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Oud player Brahem has established his own little niche with the instrument; his music, strongly Arab-inflected, has the spare, chamber feel that makes it a perfect fit in the ECM catalog. He's a contemplative player, and this melding with piano and accordion suits his style perfectly, as notes and ideas draw out marvelously. The interplay between musicians is as delicate as lace -- thoughtful, with everyone listening as much as playing. It's a record with many moments of great beauty, like the exquisite piano on "C'est Ailleurs" or the filigree touches between accordion and piano that decorate and nudge along many of the tracks. Brahem is a superb, if reserved, musician, as are his colleagues: Francois Couturier on piano and Jean-Louis Matinier on accordion. Together they trace something exquisite, an experience for the eras and the heart.© TiVo

The output of sisters Nadia and Lili Boulanger has found much greater exposure than it had at the last turn of the century, but that changes with this complete survey headed by mezzo-soprano Lucile Richardot and pianist Anne de Fornel. This release is, of course, essential for aficionados of music by women. Three hours of songs in essentially consistent styles might seem a lot for general listeners, but in fact, there are many features of interest beyond simply the presence of a valuable reference resource. One is the moderate but definite difference in style between the two sisters. Although Nadia was the elder, it was Lili who pushed the Debussy language in new directions, and Nadia soon stopped composing after her sister's untimely death. The two sisters did share an orientation toward the same poets, and the album offers a deep dive into the world of Silvestre, Verlaine, Samain, and Maeterlinck. Richardot and de Fornel are sensitive interpreters of those texts, and they approach each of these songs in fully individual ways. Sample Nadia's L'échange: one of her last compositions, it depicts a downer of a lament about a woman drawn into love for an alcoholic. They also recruit excellent collaborators, namely baritone Stéphane Degout and soprano Raquel Camarinha as well as violinist Sarah Nemtanu and cellist Emmanuel Bertrand in the small chamber works that break up the flow of songs. With fine sound from an auditorium at La Seine Musicale in Paris, this is a release that will find a durable place in collections. It landed on classical best-seller charts in early 2023. © James Manheim /TiVo

The English-speaking world may only remember Françoise Hardy as a '60s icon, but in France, she is rightly considered a major artist. The truth is that in the course of a 48-year career, Hardy has released 26 albums, almost invariably excellent. La Pluie Sans Parapluie is her first collection of original material in six years, a period the famously reclusive Hardy spent in putting together a duets album, and writing a very successful autobiography. Compared to 2004's elegiac Tant de Belles Choses, La Pluie Sans Parapluie is a much sunnier album, one that immediately brings to mind the lush yet intimate pop of her early-'70s work, such as Message Personnel and Et Si Je M'en Vais Avant Toi. "Sunnier," however, is an adjective that can only be used in comparison, as Hardy's entire oeuvre is the very definition of nocturnal, embodied in her dreamy hush of a voice against velvety arrangements. In this context, it only means that a few songs, such as the opener "Noir su Blanc" or "Champ d'Honneur," are driven by a typical rhythm track of drums and bass, rather than by piano or strings. Hardy writes the majority of the texts, while longtime collaborator Alain Lubrano and a cohort of France's most stylish tunesmiths such as Calogero, Murat, La Grande Sophie, Arthur H, or Pascale Daniel, as well as Germany's Fouxi and England's Ben Christophers, contribute fitting soundtracks to her catalog of longing, regret, and sensuous abandon. A particularly inspired second half includes gems such as "Le Temps de la Innocence" or "Mister," both worthy of a place among her late-'60s masterpieces Comment Te Dire Adieu or Ma Jeunesse Fout le Camp. As most Françoise Hardy releases go, La Pluie Sans Parapluie could easily double as a handbook in French elegance, it's got timeless class.© Mariano Prunes /TiVo

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S.O.S., the eagerly awaited fourth album of Diam's, finds her recoiling from the remarkable success she'd experienced with her previous album, Dans Ma Bulle (2006). That album couldn't have been more successful. The best-selling French album of the year, it not only spawned the smash hits "La Boulette" and "Jeune Demoiselle," it also raked in all kinds of awards, including Best French Act at the MTV Europe Music Awards and Francophone Album of the Year, Francophone Female Artist of the Year, and Francophone Song of the Year at the NRJ Music Awards. Following the success of Dans Ma Bulle, which spent an astounding 91 weeks in total on the French albums chart, including 32 weeks in the Top Five, Diam's took some time off. Battling both depression and writer's block, she traveled to Africa and did humanitarian work. She also got married. The marriage became tabloid banter when news broke that her Muslim husband was already married and that she took to wearing a hijab. At the time, tensions were running high in France for Muslims, who were at the center of a "national identity" debate being orchestrated by the country's center-right government. Meanwhile, Diam's and her label, EMI, were very guarded in the run-up to the release of S.O.S., limiting media access to the rapper and issuing a carefully worded statement along the lines that she turned toward religion after medicine failed to heal her soul. The album's lead single, "Enfants du Désert," is something of a mission statement, explaining her change of direction and what took her so long between albums: "Sortie de ma bulle (Out of my bubble)/J'ai pris le temps de regarder l'Afrique et de contempler la lune (I took the time to see Africa and contemplate the moon)/Cette société n'est qu'une enclume (This society is an anvil)/J'ai couru après le fric...dans cette course au succès (I ran after the cash...in this race for success)/J'crois que j'ai connu l'enfer (I believe that I've known hell)/Ma soeur, mon frère, j'préfère qu'ça parte aux enfants du désert (My sister, my brother, I prefer that it goes to the children of the desert)/Car je n'emporterai rien sous terre (Because I'm taking nothing underground)." With a refrain like this, not to mention the song's sullen beat and righteous lyrical tone, "Enfants du Désert" is a far cry from past hits like "DJ," the party-oriented Top Five breakout hit from Diam's' second album, Brut de Femme (2003). Among her past hits, "Ma France à Moi" -- a forceful critique of mainstream French culture -- has the most in common with "Enfants du Désert" and the remainder of S.O.S., which is likewise polemic and solemn. With a couple songs clocking in around ten minutes (most notably the album-opening "I Am Somebody") and precious few hooks or melodies, S.O.S. is a difficult album and rather depressing. Its title is fitting, as this music is a cry for help, a plea from Diam's for widespread societal change. Of course, when you keep in mind her post-Dans Ma Bulle breakdown and embrace of Islam, it all adds up. Sympathetic fans who can relate to the world-view of Diam's will find consolation in S.O.S., an album that recoils not only from fame but from capitalistic culture altogether. On the other hand, those who were drawn to feel-good smash hits like "Jeune Demoiselle" rather than Diam's herself are likely to find themselves alienated by S.O.S., a non-commercial makeover effort that offers no fun whatsoever.© Jason Birchmeier /TiVo