Although Confection is sonic ear-candy of a most seductive type, it’s hard to grasp what the point is. The album is lush, orchestrated and enfolding, but it does nothing new and says little beyond being the product of meticulous craftsmanship. Essentially, it’s the soundtrack to a film that does not exist. Themes are stated and then restated. A half-time interregnum comes with a playful synth outing which could be an alternate theme to the Magic Roundabout. Confection is the sound of hamster on treadmill – energy, lots of it, is expended but it is going nowhere.
Of course, with Sébastien Tellier things will predictably confound. He’s jammed cigarettes up his nose while performing sensitive ballads at a grand piano. He’s played God during the Eurovision Song Contest and publicly pronounced on his favoured sexual activities. The goofing off is in the mould his countryman and spiritual grand-père Serge Gainsbourg, but Tellier has never ascended to the level of a French national treasure. His waywardness has not been tempered with consistency where it counts – the music.
Confection is actually beautiful sounding and pushes all the right buttons: the soundtrack scores of Michel Colombier, François de Roubaix and late-Sixties Ennio Morricone are evoked. Gainsbourg bubbles up: both “Initials B.B.” and L’Histoire de Melody Nelson are borrowed (check out “L'amour naissant” overleaf for the former). Tony Allen guests on drums. The album could soundtrack a misty, soft-porn fantasia from 1972. It does not surprise though. The mercurial Tellier should. It also seems maybe 15 or 20 years too late for this sort of thing. Beck and fellow Frenchman Benjamin Biolay are not going to lose any sleep. Confection is a sweet delight firmly located within a comfort zone. But its taste is not going to linger.
Overleaf: Watch the video for “L'amour naissant” from Sébastien Tellier’s Confection
Watch the video for “L'amour naissant” from Sébastien Tellier’s Confection
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