I think we have YouTube to thank
for Pomplamoose. Most folks,
including moi, came across this
pop music duo on their exceptionally
well recorded and filmed DIY videos
of their original songs and wildly
inventive mash-up covers. Simple
affairs, really, just a split screen
or a quartered screen, each box
featuring multi-instrumentalist
Jack Conte and his partner Nataly
Dawn performing live in the studio.
Recently, their filmed studio recordings
grab the entire band in one frame,
with maybe only a couple of angles.
Not fancy at all, but it looks good,
they are good looking, engaging human
beings, full of spunk, and
none of that would have mattered if
the songs and the performances
were not terrific, but they were.
Certifiably terrific. The success
of their videos paved the way for
a totally independent music career,
as far as I can tell, going on twenty
years strong. And they have been
very busy: Frank Conte is the founder
of the artist crowdsourcing site
Patreon, simultaneously one of the
principal players in the fusion/pop
funk band Scary Pockets, and Nataly
Dawn has done solo albums and solo
tours over the years. Also of note,
and totes relevant to the album I’ll
spin this morning, Nataly Dawn was
raised in France and in Belgium and
she studied French literature
at Stanford.
So, this most recent
Pomplamoose album, the only thing I
have of theirs on vinyl, is a
collection of original songs, the
lyrics of which, all written in
French. It is a captivating, lovely
collection of songs. Jazzy, lounge-
like, melodic hooks to the hilt,
every song hummable after a couple
of listens, the language hardly
a barrier to appreciation but rather
an irresistible feature. Don’t know
any French? No problem, a fold-out
poster inside the sleeve puts the
French and the English side-by side.
Today, for the first time, I’m looking
at those English translations after
recent repeated listenings without
bothering with it. Now I know what
Nataly is singing about, which is fun,
but in some ways, not at all important,
or at least, not necessary for full
enjoyment of the music. Her singing,
characteristic of all of their
records, is light, breathy, easy,
but also precise. She is no belter,
although I’m guessing her lungs
are probably capable of belting–
she just chooses not to, which has
the effect, for me, of making me lean
in to her performances, allow myself
to be lulled or comforted by the singing.
Ultimately, this music, even beyond
the language of the lyrics, feels very
French. Jack’s contribution, along with
all of those additional musicians
engaged in the endeavor, have this
European and oddly Bacharachian vibe
dialed in. It’s a transportive album,
Photogénique–Indeed!
Notes on the vinyl edition: Photogénique, Independent release, no label, 2025, black vinyl.
In case you don’t already know: I’m listening to almost everything in my vinyl collection, A to Z, and writing at least one, sometimes two or three long skinny poem-like-things in response for each artist, and on a few occasions, writing a long skinny poem-like-thing in response to more than one artist. As a poet and a student of poetry, I understand that these things look like poems, but they don’t really sound much like poetry, hence, I call them “poem-like-things.” I’ll admit that they’re just long, skinny essays that veer every now and then into the poetic or lyric.
