Charlotte Gainsbourg

Charlotte Gainsbourg - IRM (2010)

Review by Mitchell Kissack: As the daughter of British actress/model Jane Birkin and French actor/singer-songwriter Serge Gainsbourg, Charlotte Gainsbourg had quite the legacy to proliferate. Her acting and musical debuts both occurred in 1984; she played alongside Catherine Deneuve in “Paroles et Musique” and was a featured vocalist on her father’s controversial single, “Lemon Incest.” After releasing her debut album Charlotte For Ever in 1986, Gainsbourg focused primarily on her acting career before releasing her sophomore recording, 5:55, 20 whole years later. The result of a collaboration between Gainsbourg and the electronic duo Air, 5:55 seamlessly blended Gainsbourg’s soft, ethereal vocals and the somber mood piece that is signature Air. Unfortunately, after the album’s release, Gainsbourg suffered an almost fatal water skiing accident that caused excessive cranial bleeding. Although she recovered completely thanks to some emergency surgery, she was deeply shaken by the incident and underwent several MRIs to ensure she was fully healed. This, combined with Gainsbourg’s star role in Lars von Trier’s psychological-horror grenade “Antichrist” last year, heavily influenced the new sound Gainsbourg explores on IRM, or “Imagerie par résonance magnétique.”

It's clear from the outset that IRM is a totally different beast than its antecedent. Beck sits in the producer's chair, and the clanging percussion that pervades the majority of the tracks greatly contrasts the toned-down melodies that pervaded 5:55. Gainsbourg stated that this giant leap into new sonic territory was inspired by the sounds she heard while undergoing the MRIs,. and the distinct sound is even sampled by Beck in the title track, a frantic amalgam of drums and electronic whirring. Much like the lyrics to the 5:55 track “The Operation,” Gainsbourg flaunts her love of medical based allusions and terminology with lyrics like “Analyze the EKG/can you see a memory/register all my fear on a flowchart.” The short song ends with the chaotic muddling of drums and eerie vocal echoes before complete silence. It's definitely the most shocking and exciting moment on the album—if only it lasted.

Therein lies the problem with IRM; many of the songs barely top the two minute mark. And with only five real songs having enough of a hook and length to capture the listener, it’s hard to fully enjoy one track before it abruptly segues into another. Which is a shame; some of the best songs here would be even better if they lingered just a minute or two more. Beck, bless his heart, tries his best to add as much muscle to each little sonic sketch as he can muster. Of course, this in itself can be detrimental: songs like “Trick Pony” have almost too much going on, and the PJ Harvey-esque guitar riff sounds like a cheap knock-off of a superior original. Even worse, “Greenwich Mean Time” seems a blatant M.I.A. imitation, and a poor one at that. As the album progresses, it’s evident that Gainsbourg’s vocals are strikingly out of place on many of these songs. In those rare moments where things are a little more serene, Gainsbourg hits the mark perfectly but, unfortunately, those golden moments are often followed by some clanging track that completely overpowers her.

Even though IRM's biggest marketing ploy is its new sonic direction, the most powerful songs are more reminiscent of 5:55. The trio of “Le chat du café des artistes,” “Vanities” and album closer “La Collectionneuse” capture the dark, smoky sensuality that made 5:55 such an amazing body of work. The middle of these three, “Vanities,” is undoubtedly the greatest track Gainsbourg has ever recorded. Amidst a dark eddy of strings and ghostly reverberations, she reveals the vulnerability she’s been trying so hard to conceal throughout IRM. Gainsbourg seems very insecure here, trying to hide behind aggressive percussion and over-produced arrangements. Her experimentation is ambitious for sure, but—to put it simply—it just doesn't yield positive results frequently enough.