Sébastien Tellier shares little sonically with fellow French shapeshifter Serge Gainsbourg, but he has adopted some of the man's most endearing sensibilities, namely, an embrace of artifice and a willingness to genre-hop well beyond his expected limitations. Gainsbourg made worthwhile reggae and art rock records chiefly because he approached each style fearlessly, unaware or uncaring of how these records would look amongst the rest of his work; Tellier stepped well outside his comfort zone-- and not necessarily successfully-- on 2004's world music experiment Politics before shifting to groovy (literally) soundtrack work on 2006's Sessions. Sexuality, his fourth album, moves toward erotic synth-pop in what might be a more stereotypically French pursuit, but Tellier's willingness to engage the material without contempt or parody leads to an album of unexpected charm and grace.
That grace is key, too: Sexuality's goofball cover invites comparisons to another Frenchman with sex on the brain-- Pepé Le Pew-- but the album's artwork is its only obvious ham, Tellier wisely choosing to bypass smoove in favor of smooth. Moon Safari, by former touring partners (and label heads) Air, might seem like an obvious touchstone, but Sexuality, produced by Daft Punk's Guy-Manuel de Homem-Christo, is far more kinetic, laying metronomic sequencers over patient chord changes. Tellier moves easily between English and French and his surprisingly accomplished husk keeps lyrics largely indecipherable; camp and humor are by no means absent-- please see the female moans that effectively constitute the chorus of "Pomme"-- but they're a smaller piece of the pie than expected, considering the cover features a man riding a donkey on a naked woman's torso.
Nothing on Sexuality is as stormily danceable as non-album single "Sexual Sportswear" but Tellier does favor tiny pipe-cleaner rhythms in his pop: "Kilometer" surfs around in-the-red synthesizer stabs; a flanged, bending guitar riff sets the stage for the urban lounge of "Une Heure"; "Manty" draws a pulse from a woman's sampled syllabic "huh hah"'s. "Look" best encapsulates Sexuality's sporty hook-making: slow changes, percussive synths, Tellier cooing over the top. You'll nod the tune right out of your head before the next track begins.
That is, of course, Sexuality's greatest weakness. Tellier's talents and interests are manifold; he is, perhaps necessarily, a moodmaker rather than a songsmith. Sexuality's stylistic choices offer him plenty of leeway, allowing him to sneak forgettable hooks by with precise atmosphere and committed style. Sexuality is-- forgive the pun-- a labor of love; how else to explain the "L'Amour et La Violence", the album's multifarious coda? Mournful electric piano cedes Tellier's plaintive voice cedes spidery electronica; Tellier is a gorger, feeding on many interests and trying to cater to them all. Indulge and enjoy both his shortcomings and his triumphs; he is unlikely to return to them.
