Whether presiding over the politicized lounge of Stereolab or singing on her own, Laetitia Sadier has been tagged as a “chanteuse.” Primarily because she and the word share French heritage. Still, the je ne sais quoi of the Parisian after-hours club and the decadence of the cabaret bubble up through Sadier’s vocals on her third solo record, Something Shines.
The chanteuse vibe has a cool Gallic intensity, a blue flame not uncharacteristic of Sadier. She honed her version of this café sensuality to relaxed perfection in Stereolab and doesn’t alter the purrs and susurrations, the la-la-las and oohs and aahs reminiscent of a classic Association single.
Something Shines isn’t so lush as either the Association or Stereolab, although the influence of the latter remains evident in synthesizers and other electronic instrumentation, as well as in the dream-state tempos of “Quantum Soup” and “Butter Side Up,” the extended openings to sides A and B on vinyl.
Yet some tracks are more than the sum of Sadier’s past. In “Oscuridad,” amid music that lingers like a late-period PJ Harvey track, Sadier acidly ponders wealth and poverty. Sadier herself blooms in English and French, the latter a language redolent of romanticism no matter the subject. She emanates the glow that illuminates Something Shines.
