Taking a page from the Marianne Faithfull playbook, Belinda Carlisle exchanges exuberance for sophistication on Voilà. Sung entirely in French, Carlisle's first CD in a decade celebrates the sturdy song form known as chanson. From the legendary Edith Piaf ("La Vie En Rose") to '60s songbird François Hardy ("Ma Jeunesse Fout Le Camp") to playful provocateur Serge Gainsbourg ("Contact"), Carlisle tackles 11 favorites. If Faithfull's Strange Weather, a torched-up collection of covers, makes perfect sense in retrospect, Voilà also seems like a natural progression for Carlisle, though some Go-Go's devotees may be startled by the departure. More surprising than her accent, which is actually quite good, are the arrangements, like Gainsbourg's "Bonnie et Clyde" reinvented as echoey electronica or Hardy's "Pourtant Tu M'aimes" as hard-driving pop. Carlisle's versatile collaborators include Brian Eno (keyboards), Natacha Atlas (vocals), and Fianchna O'Braonain (guitar, vocals) from the Hothouse Flowers. Traditionalists may balk at the Irish and Middle Eastern touches, but Carlisle’s genuine affection for the material should win over most skeptics. Her distinctive vibrato, particularly on Jacques Brel's heartbreaking "Ne Me Quitte Pas" ("If You Go Away") and Charles Aznavour’s flamenco-flavored "Jezebel," has never sounded quite so full and throaty. --Kathleen C. Fennessy

 

No "Our Lips Are Sealed" here. On the ex-Go-Go's singer's first solo disc since 1996, Carlisle turns in a seductive 11-track homage to French music. Not a "pop" album per se, "Voila" is a bit of a journey through French popular music, as interpreted through a fan's perspective. The chanteuse pours her soul into her vocals, expressing a far greater range of emotion than on her past bubble gum pop. Jacques Brel's "Ne Me Quitte Pas" is rendered in a desperate, heartbreaking wail, while Edith Piaf's "La Vie En Rose" is almost a techno anthem with its soaring melody. Serge Gainsbourg's "Bonnie et Clyde" and "Contact" are the most playful, given appropriately cinematic treatments by producer John Reynolds and Brian Eno on keyboards. But it's Carlisle's voice and willingness to fully embrace these songs that really make this album work.—Troy Carpenter

 

Voila - 4 stars out of 5
 
"Pop culture is cruel to its female stars once they turn 40, but Belinda Carlisle, like Madonna, isnt about to cruise down the MOR route. Instead, for her first album in 10 years, she recorded a quirky set of french covers.. Somehow the American Francophile, helped by producer John Reynolds, pulls it off.
She embraces everything from Serge Gainsbourgs Bonnie et Clyde to La Vie En Rose, a standard associated with Edith Piaf and Grace Jones. Carlisles La Vie En Rose is disco baroque, easily distinguishing itself from Jones' cover. Alison Goldfrapp, eat your heart out.
 
In a word: Magnifique.

This compelling French-language album finds the pop legend embracing a true calling rather than indulging in a calculated reinvention after a decade avoiding the music biz. Carlisle was born to sing these songs, from the Edith Piaf classic La Vie En Rose, given an electronic workout, to the disco punkish spin on Brigitte Bardot's Contact. Bonnie Et Clyde is hypnotic with its acoustic guitar hook and spoken word exchange and the haunting melancholy of Avec Le Temps is rendered heart-breaking by Carlisle's emotive delivery. 4 stars out of 5

 

Belinda Carlisle's career has had several twists and turns, but none has been quite as interesting as her 2007 album Voila, a collection of luxurious covers of classic French pop tunes, all sung in French. Certainly, the very concept of the former new wave queen singing French pop qualifies as one of the more intriguing projects in her solo career, but it's also interesting that she's chosen this idea for her first solo album in ten years. Given that long gap between new albums, it's clear that Voila is no stunt or novelty, it's a passion project for Carlisle and it plays that way: it has the complexity and richness of a labor of love. Which doesn't necessarily mean that this album is filled with surprises, apart from its very existence. Brian Eno may contribute keyboards, but that doesn't mean that these are radical reinterpretations, nor are the selections necessarily left-field: there are a pair of Serge Gainsbourg songs, a Jacques Brel, and a few other songs that should be familiar to rock and pop listeners with a fairly deep grasp of '60s and '70s pop. Those listeners who were raised on punk, new wave, and alt-rock, but with a deep love of the '60s, are clearly the target audience for Voila, and the best thing about the album is that it will not disappoint. This is an elegant, stylish collection of adult pop, gliding by on its sleek synth textures and cabaret atmosphere. Even when it dips into Eurodisco — as it does on occasion, as on Edith Piaf's "La Vie en Rose" — it does so gracefully, and there's an appealing sly decadence to the feel of Voila; it may be a decadence sculpted out of films, LPs, and old photos, one that's knowing but affectionate, but that doesn't mean it's not an alluring, effective mood for the album, particularly because Carlisle sustains it from beginning to end, a problem that she didn't manage to conquer on her big hits of the late '80s. That is a change for her, but the true revelation of Voila is her singing: it's relaxed, assured, and nuanced, the best vocal performance she's had on record. She delivers these songs so smoothly, it's like she's been a chanteuse her entire life, and it's that deep musicality that makes Voila not just a rewarding detour but one of her best albums — and, with any luck, the first chapter in a new phase of her career.