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Back in March, MTV featured French nouveau yé-yé sensation Yelle (Hint: It rhymes with “Elle”) as its “Artist of the Week.” Wedged between Clearasil commercials, the bubbly pop starlet bounced in neon discotheques and primary-colored Hummers to the tune of her “Je Veux Te Voir” single. It all had something to do with Lauren and Whitney taking their vacant stares to Paris for the premiere of The Hills. The network likely saw the cartoonish chanson as Britney from Brittany, but apparently nobody in top brass parlais Français: The chorus, translated, went, “I wanna see you in a porno flick, getting busy with your potato or french fry–shaped dick.”
Therein lies Yelle’s allure: surreptitiously vulgar content slipped into a kiddie cocktail of innocent ’80s pop and hooks more infectious than an STD in the Real World house. Twiggy-eyed and naïve, she dresses in Garanimals chic like a toddler at a rave, but pens odes to dildos (“Mon Meilleur Ami”) and breast measurements (“85A”). The latter may bear uncanny resemblance to Lio’s 1979 novelty hit “Le Banana Split,” but Pop-Up’s retro-modern pop chops push it far beyond a stereotypical gimmick.
Producer DJ Grand Marnier stuffs hip-hop, techno and new-wave beats under fuzzy plush synthesizers as Yelle cheers her raunchy nursery rhymes. Despite the language barrier, it’s the catchiest damn album of the year so far. While the upbeat numbers are as impossible to deny as Grimace serving MAOI inhibitor milk shakes, the melancholic trance moments (“Joie” and “Amour Du Sol”) raise the biggest goose bumps and broadest smiles. That’s genius. Let’s hope the networks steer clear of translators.
Yelle plays the Logan Square Auditorium Tuesday 29.
