Ever since my days as a petite fille, I’ve wondered what it was that made France so fascinating. I remember spending countless lazy summers dreaming about the French and that mesmerizing “je ne sais quoi” that they naturally exude. Yet whether it be the champagne, fashion, sensuality or cheese, France manages to captivate the hearts of many, including Casey Dienel, better known by fans as, White Hinterland.
The 23-year old Massachusetts-native emerged onto the indie music scene in 2006 with her debut album Wind-Up Canary and in 2008, began releasing work under the name White Hinterland, initially with Phylactery Factory and later with the EP, Luniculaire.
Released on Oct. 21, Luniculaire consists of five tracks, featuring three covers and two original songs. Recorded entirely in French, the EP is a modern day tribute to vintage France, a country so amorous that they had to secure the borders soís not to overflow with love. Just kidding.
Yet the title alone is intriguing enough to make you wonder. Amalgamations of the French words ÃLunaireí, which means Ãmooní, and ÃFuniculaireí which means Ãrailwayí, one can only imagine what Dienel is alluding to.
Maybe a moonlit ride on the Parisian metro; Who knows? Whatever it means, it compliments the EP like a Hermes bag does Jane Birkin.
Dienel gets the ball rolling with her cover of ìRequiem Por Un Con,î a song originally recorded by the epitome of Frenchmen everywhere; Serge Gainsbourg. The track carries a quirky beat with its bluesy guitar and prods of strings and bells.
The instruments are stream of consciousness-esque and a rhythmic deep bass coupled with Dienelís hypnotizing voice makes the cover profound.
Like an abrupt theme song for some alien marching band, “Requiem Por Un Con,” pulls you in coyly and wraps you around its little finger.
As the track winds down behind a wall of amplification and clutter, “Chant De Grillon,” sneaks in like a thief in the night.
The echoing piano notes made me feel like I was drugged in some red light shanty bar in the Montmartre district of Paris, yes, very strange, lol yet oh so provocative. “Chant De Grillon,” is the champion track of the album, astonishing but more importantly, very French.
Dienelís voice eventually crescendos, fiery and vastly expressive, it winds down in a simple way, teasing and leading on the listener.
The whole album is sexy and can be described with a whisper or a sigh. Slow dancing with twilight and savoring each moment is “Mon Ami La Rose,” a cover of famed Parisian chaton Françoise Hardyís song.
Seductive and low, the track is a throwback to old school jazz, full of soul and something thatís usually only heard at a hole in the wall joint on a rainy night.
Dienel ultimately covers Brigitte Fontaineís, “Jíai 26 Ans,” and it sounds intensely different than the original track does. Scratch that, it sounds better.
Dienel employs strings and adopts a sudden avant-garde, 1940’s gypsy swing attitude for this song; Django Reinhardt would fall in love. “Lunirascible,” the album’s final track is soft and cozy, a retreat from the beautiful chaos that preceded it, wrapping the album up in a poetically confident manner.
Overall? Magical. The EP is strong, poised, and French. Dienelís sweetly mellow voice and odd instrumental choices are a breath of fresh air, mixing contemporary and classical effortlessly.
Ideal for a dreamer, Luniculaire, like the French, possesses spellbinding qualities that I just canít seem to put my finger on.
“Je ne sais quoi.”