Sometimes a record appears. Something that grabs you by the balls (or whatever the female equivalent is; a seductive smile, I’m guessing). It may not even be something that stands up to critical appraisal; it’s just something that when first heard is forever adored, throwing smiles about like confetti. And fuck it; I’m a teeny bit tipsy, and it is my birthday after all – from time to time we’re allowed this type record, even if I have to fight you on the barricades should you veer towards a dismissal.
Below the words: sixties teeny-bopper par excellence (obviously français; wonderfully français; would you honestly be surprised to hear that Serge Gainsbourg is the auteur?).
France Gall / Baby Pop