Talkie Walkie

Très formidable. A lush collection of chilled cosmic electronica is just what a weary post-Chrimbo body needs. What’s more, nobody does it better than that duo with those haughty sounding names, JB Duncknel and Nicolas Godin.
Since Moon Safari exploded into the mainstream consciousness in 1998 (which was also released in January if memory serves me correctly) this dextrous duo have became the most internationally famous Parisian musicians of their day. Their debut built a massive head of soporific steam, allegedly becoming the dominant late night tent soundtrack at that year’s Glastonbury festival. It was the perfect record for both stoners and lovers and, quite naturally, stoned lovers.
After authoring an opulent score for Sofia Coppola’s classic debut feature The Virgin Suicides, Dunck and God followed up Moon Safari proper with the criminally underrated 10,000 Hz Legend – a spooky odyssey of weird Gothic tinged prog rock experiments. Air had flipped from postcard pretty to dark and foreboding, alienating the band’s more casual audience in the process. Granted, they shouldn’t have really bothered with that watery Beck collaboration and some of the flaff at the end, but tracks like ‘Electronic Performers’, ‘How Does It Make You Feel?’ And ‘Sex Born Poison’ were the best work they’d done to date.
Talkie Walkie inhibits a more accessible middle-ground, produced by Nigel Godrich in Los Angeles’ Oceanway studio where Hail to the Thief was also committed to tape. In case you’re wondering, the inverted title refers to the duo’s uncanny ability for telepathic communication in the studio. Opening shots ‘Venus’ and ‘Cherry Blossom Girl’ are typical classic Air in both name and nature – imploring odes for love, which, to put it bluntly, are the most heart-warmingly beautiful and gorgeous material Air have recorded since ‘Playground Love’ swooned me off my feet. If they were a girl they’d be Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golighty in Breakfast At Tiffany’s.
Just when you thought your heart mightn’t take much more, along comes ‘Run’, which comes on like the cross-dressing cousin of Laurie Anderson’s ‘O Superman’ and (ahem) 10cc’s ‘I’m Not In Love’. Unfortunately, the quality wavers for the next two tracks ‘Universal Traveller’ and ‘Mike Mills’. In marked contrast to previous outings, Talkie Walkie contains no guest vocalists whatsoever and is completely dominated by Duncknel and Godin’s song based approach rather than the blissed out soundscapes of yore. Most of the time, it works a treat, but in this rather flaccid mid-section it falters slightly.
The kooky ‘Surfin’ On a Rocket’ and the magnificently melancholic ‘Another Day’ kick it back into touch with premiership standard catchy cinematic pop. ‘Alpha Beta Gaga’ is hooked around a whistled melody, which while cute on early encounters, becomes grating after a while. Likewise, ‘The Bridge on the River Quai’ might be a good song, but there is only so much whistling on record anybody can tolerate.
Sweetness and light is again followed by a dark space age ballad in the shape of the mysterious ‘Biological,’ recalling some of the stranger moments on 10,000 Hz Legend.
Air leave us with a glass of their best house wine on ‘Alone in Kyoto’, which first surfaced on last year’s terrific Lost in Translation soundtrack where it sat beautifully alongside the tender majesty of the great Kevin Shields.
A few hiccups aside, this is a seriously sexy and sensual album. Hence, it should come as absolutely no surprise that Michel Columbier, best known for doing the string arrangements for pervy Gallic genius Serge Gainsbourg, was on hand to bathe it in a warm and passionate sonic wash. As original as they can be, there is no escaping that Serge pretty much invented Air musically, not to mention David Holmes’ great Let’s Get Killed LP. But while Talkie Walkie mightn’t exceed Air’s former glories, it compliments them exceedingly well. If the idea of a dreamy, delicious and romantic New Year appeals to you, then you could do worse than kick it off with the pair from Paris. Bon voyage.