Lose yourself to French…

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[5.82]

Scott Mildenhall: …comment faire une chanson complete?
[5]

W.B. Swygart: An odd choice of single by comparison to more or less anything off their most recent album, being as it is a two-and-a-half minute bass groove with no verses or choruses or anything to not make radio DJs talk all over it; but it’s a fairly terrific bit of filth all the same, pitched at perfect strutting tempo with a proper bit of dig to the bass and drums, and delicious little cameos from the rest of the ensemble.
[8]

Thomas Inskeep: The Donna Summer of “Love to Love You Baby,” all breathy come-ons, b/w Nile Rodgers’ chicken-scratch guitar licks (really, he should get a royalty) and the Salsoul strings. Only vaguely in French. So if you’re programmed or inclined to like that kind of disco pastiche, you’ll love this Dimitri from Paris wet dream. And I am so programmed and inclined. 
[8]

Alfred Soto: “More More More” updated for the Daft Punk generation, with the bass and drums mixed high. I can’t dance to it, though — it’s a track I think about dancing to. A big difference.
[6]

Cédric Le Merrer: French pop’s obsession with retro kitsch and guilty pleasures regularly have me sighing heavy sighs. Brigitte sound most of the time as fascinating as interior designers intent on including “copper touches” and a shaggy carpet to create a cosy-rustic atmosphere. However, the simple trick of switching from “j’ai chaud” to “j’ai peur” from time to time makes this ’70s porn soundtrack just creepy enough to elevate this beyond the decorative.
[6]

Will Adams: J’ai peur aussi, because apparently Random Access Memories was influential enough that people are still making sterile, lifeless, nu-old-retro-whatever-disco in 2015.
[3]

Micha Cavaseno: Like the lost children of Air, Brigitte tracks are less songs more than vibe tracks, and “J’Sais Pas” is nothing but viiiiiibe. All yacht-disco sunsets and faltered cocaine synths. It’s a decent groove that meanders and glides, but this is all terribly familiar territory that could occupy far too impersonal a setting.
[4]

Katherine St Asaph: Disco lixx, synths oozing “Rapture” rapture, breathy spoken-word French about scary hot desire, mood for days, luxuriant days. No idea whether Brigitte are being ironic — this may be a shag-carpeted bridge too far for modern listeners unless they are, which is a shame. There can be no irony in a swoon.
[7]

Juana Giaimo: I’m sorry, but just because you speak French doesn’t mean we’ll be automatically seduced.
[5]

Edward Okulicz: “J’Sais Pas” is, in the current climate, competent disco of a strain that’s already been brought back from the dead enough times that it may now need to be killed again. I’m still rinsing “A bouche que veux-tu,” though.
[5]

Mo Kim: There was a park in Seoul I used to frequent back in high school; on some nights, there were musicians holding public concerts where they played everybody’s favorite Korean trot songs from the ’70s and ’80s. I stood back and watched the old couples dancing along the Han River, weathered but still open to good music and a spring breeze. “J’Sais Pas” is not a Korean trot song, but it captures a lot of what I savor about those moments: time slipping by in variations on the same phrase, airy breaths tucked into the pauses; strings lifting spirits skywards, making the repetitive rhythms just a bit lighter; orchestral flourishes capturing whimsy and wonder even within the labor of a good day. Life is work and work can be good. Time can be good, too.
[7]