Import Zone
by Michael McCarthy
I originally intended to turn you on to some very silly but simply irresistible J-pop (read: Japanese pop) artists this issue, but I decided to wait until Spring since J-pop is not likely to be as appreciated during the cold Winter months. Actually, you can blame my decision on Mylène Farmer, the most talented woman ever to rule the world of pop – even if most people in the United States don’t know who the hell she is. OK, so maybe one can’t be the queen of pop if she isn’t known here in the land that brought the world Britney Spears, Debbie Gibson, Tiffany, and Christina Aguilera, but then Mylène is far more talented than any of them will ever be.
A friend of mine once described Mylène as “the French version of Madonna.” I disagree, but the more I learn about her, the more I discover that she’s often found herself in Madonna-esque controversy. Her music, however, is a whole different ballpark. Madonna’s music has always been purely pop (even when she dabbled in electronica on Ray of Light and finally won back my respect), while Mylène’s has often bordered on rock. Moreover, Mylène’s pop music has always been more sophisticated than Madonna’s. And Mylène never had a squeaky voice. What she did have – and still has – is an immensely talented collaborator named Laurent Boutonnat. While Cendres de Lune, her 1986 debut, hardly sounds like it was released yesterday, the production was far more layered and interesting than that of most pop discs of the day, and it still holds up remarkably well. Can one say the same for Like A Virgin or True Blue? They might inspire feelings of nostalgia and promiscuity, but the beats sound terribly out of date today.
But I have no intention of writing an essay in which I compare Mylène to Madonna. Suffice it to say that many Europeans who loathe Madonna love Mylène. So, while it’s helpful to mention Madonna when describing the level of popularity and controversy Mylène has generated in Europe – even Russia and Japan – it’s also necessary to point out that you may still come to worship her even if you’re hoping to someday spit on Madonna.The more I learn about most pop stars, or even rock stars, the less I like them. There aren’t many musicians out there who get more and more interesting as you peel away the layers and attempt to get to know them through their interviews, videos, and, of course, music. Even the goddess Shirley Manson gets a little tiresome when you’ve read countless interviews in which she talks freely about sex and menstruation. Mylène, however, has always managed to speak freely (when she feels like it), but also remain incredibly mysterious. In fact, very little is really known about her. I can tell you that she was born in Canada and moved to France before she was 10. And that she presently divides her time between California, Paris, and Italy. But that is about it. Her romances, among other things, have always been kept very secret, though most of her fans reckon she and Laurent Boutonnat have often been a couple. Rumors, baby, rumors.
Although the tour has been amusingly dubbed “The Mylenium Tour,” it’s in support of her new album, Innamoramento (Italian for “the birth of love”). Musically, it is a mix of pop, techno, and guitar rock, and a very mature mix at that. So much so that I was slightly disappointed upon first listen. As much as I’m ashamed to admit it, I thought perhaps Mylène was a bit uninspired, if not going the Celine Dion route in an attempt to gain mainstream appeal. The songs, at least upon reading their titles, seemed mostly about love and relationships, not about kinky sex and evil and all that other good stuff Mylène’s written about in the past. But as I translated more of the lyrics and the music grew on me, I realized Mylène wasn’t selling out, but merely becoming more dreamy. A bit more poetic even. And then I saw the video for “Je Te Rends Ton Amour” in which she parades around a church and tells God “I give you back your love” (translated from français). It’s far creepier than anything Kevin Williamson has ever written. In fact, I reckon it’d scare Clive Barker.