From the
Bardot
-like cover shot of a windswept and gorgeous
Francoise Hardy
to the oddly chipper title, this 1965 U.S. debut (originally released on the proto-
world music
label
Four Corners
) is clearly pitched at the adventurous edge of the U.S.
pop
market, pitching
Hardy
as the Gallic
Petula Clark
. (
Clark
was, unbeknownst to the U.S. market at the time, making terrific French-language
records herself at the time.) Complicating this, of course, is the fact that
's music, for all its catchiness, is stripped down to its barest essentials -- acoustic and electric guitar, bass, minimalist drums, very little else -- and
herself sings her (mostly self-penned) lyrics in an attractive but chilly drop-dead monotone that's far removed from the perkiness of almost every other female singer (minus
Nico
and
Mary Weiss
of
the Shangri-Las
) of the '60s. Even the perkier tunes, like the enormous French hit single
"Tous les Garcons et les Filles,"
have a measured, restrained quality.
The Yeh-Yeh Girl From Paris
is an outstanding record, but it's the '60s
equivalent of Shaker furniture: free of ornamentation and exquisitely simple. ~ Stewart Mason