Marie-Flore - "Sweet to the Taste" (2009)

Let's face it: I'm no rock critic. Last week's fawning, superlative review of my now-beloved Le Prince Miiaou illustrates my unwillingness (inability?) to explore the music I like from the inside out. Instead, I swallow whole the bio's backstory, quite happy to orbit the permanent, unmoving celestial bodies in some kind of pre-Copernican celestial construct, where the artist calls the shots and I just connect the stars' dots.

Anyway. This week isn't going to be much different.

Or is it? I bought Marie-Flore's 2009 EP, "More Than Thirty Seconds If You Please," and the liner notes contain very little received wisdom for me to rapturously repeat. But check it: Marie-Flore's tousled mullet and black-underscored eyes make her a ringer for "Brass in Pocket"-era Chrissie Hynde, and she sings like a delicate Polly Jean Harvey fronting an analog Portishead.

EP opener "Trapdoor" (which I almost chose for this post) is a brazen declaration of brittle fragility. I can't help but notice, as someone who's trying to talk about Marie-Flore, the chorus' laconic line "Well, you probably don't know me that well," while a sad, trumpet-like wordless backing vocal emits a gorgeous, deflated wail.

Broken ballad "Sweet to the Taste" is a marvel; a Pop de Trop chart-topper. The song opens with a deceptive hush before turning towards its full-disclosure pre-chorus: "If I'm sweet to the taste, I can get sour." The lyric's poetry workshop sincerity belies the claustrophobic regret with which Marie-Flore sings it. This is no preemptive, told-you-so warning shot from a serial commitment-phobe. Instead, she sounds morbidly apologetic, a Dr. Jekyll begging for forgiveness even as he's changing into Mr. Hyde.

At the chorus, the song itself transforms: percussive handclaps jump out and startle, the sound you'd make to scare off a cat. Marie-Flore's overdubbed backing vocals sing something that sounds like "Ow, ow" as she repeats the line "Now go outside, because you block my view." A quietly distorted, staccato guitar points toward the door on a single note.

Seconds later, the song simmers down. "Handle me with care, my man," Marie-Flore implores.

After all, if she's sour to the taste, she can get sweet.

click the image below to listen to song previews or buy the album: