Monsieur Gainsbourg Revisited - Various Artists

Tribute albums are always a dodgy idea. Few manage to truly evoke the spirit of the artist in tribute, while many are built on gimmicks designed to rope in unsuspecting fans of said artist (another Gainsbourg tribute, I ♥ Serge: Electronica Gainsbourg unfortunately falls into this latter category). When dealing with a real maverick like France's legendary "dirty old man of rock & roll", it only stands to reason that a tribute album would sound just as peculiar and diverse as Serge's own recordings. And therein is where this album both succeeds and fails (luckily, the successes are rather spectacular and significantly outnumber the failures). Most of the artists compiled here have already publicly, or at least through their music, expressed their devotion to this self-proclaimed "cabbage-headed sex maniac", and here they finally get their chance to gush over Gainsbourg's iconic compositions. As far as first tracks go, Franz Ferdinand and Jane Birkin's explosive "A Song For Sorry Angel" sets the bar extremely high, remaining faithful in spirit to Serge's synth-y original without obviously copping Serge's 60's clichés, a vice to which many of the performers here fall victim. Portishead's "Requiem For Anna" is atmospheric and moody, and sounds more like a magnificent collaboration between Beth Gibbons and Gainsbourg's ghost, rather than a student paying tribute to the master. The Rakes' nervy take on "Les Poinçonneurs des Lilas", translated here as "Just A Man With A Job", plays like a conventional though thrilling punk cover, and Jarvis Cocker's syrupy reading of "Je Suis Venu Te Dire Que Je M'en Vais" ("I Just Came To Tell You I'm Going") sounds just about like the Gainsbourg original, but that's no dig at Cocker; if anyone's spent his career campaigning for broader recognition of Serge's musical gifts to mankind, it's him. The most depressing duds here are Cat Power and, oddly enough, Jack White's wife Karen Elson's bland trawl through Serge's only international hit, "Je T'aime... Moi Non Plus", which aims for that vintage French erotica that everybody seems to love and misses the mark completely. Likewise, James Iha and Kazu Makino's dreary and melodramatic translation of "Bonnie et Clyde" is almost instantly irritating, sufficient proof that some things just sound better en Français. But these are small complaints, and as far as tribute albums go, this one is quite a thrill.

Counting lights, every night, every kind of light.