You've heard of them, yes? Oh, mademoiselle, I am sure you have never heard anything like them-- they are one of a kind. Let me bring you some baguettes and I will tell you all about them.

Ah, yes, I brought some olive paste for you, too. Can you hear that? I had Richard put it in the jukebox for us, yes? Oh, ma'moiselle, I spent many years playing the accordion until the terrible accident, and when I first heard them and was healed! What's that? Oh, the accident... ma'moiselle, I don't much like to discuss it, but I can see by the light in your eyes that you simply must know. Very well, I am unable to resist such beauty.

It was on my 18th birthday and I had just won the Accordion Medal of Harmony for the provence. It was my moment of triumph, my moment to spit in the faces of the infidels that laughed at me when I sat on my doorstep and played my accordion instead of playing ball. That night, I took in a beautiful feast held at the finest restaurant in the provence. All of my old friends and many new ones were there and shared in my happiness. There was drink and song and it was an incredible night! I met a beautiful girl there, and in my flush I kissed her! Yes, it was brash, some might say impertinent, but when one is drunk on life and wine, one rarely thinks of these things, yes? I kissed her again and again, our ardour growing, until she led me to her loft and I made beautiful love to her! Ah, such wistful eyes she had. Suddenly, what seemed like moments after I drifted to sleep in her arms, I heard a thunderclap crack and felt the most intense pain in my key-hand that made me grow feint. A man, a man that I later learned was my sweetheart's elder brother, was holding a silver urn in his hands and driving it down on my fingers. Oh, the pain! I've grown faint now just telling you of it! The doctor cared for my hand as if it were his own, but I shall never play the accordion again.

All was lost for me until I first heard them. Everything I heard before was as a single forgotten note before them. Their music made me accept the loss of my own music, my sorrow is their sorrow. I hear the drums being brushed, the warm piano, and the love of music can return in my soul without the pain of never baing able to make it again. What do you think of his voice? Oh yes, it's like molasses, maple syrup, thick fog, a rich sauce, so many good things. Their music has sorrow and dignity, together like so few others.

Yes, listen. Though they remain great, this particular record is a soundtrack for a film! Could you guess that? No! Why? Yes, you're right, few soundtracks these days are so delicate, so nuanced and stylish. Yes, the whole thing is merely them. Is that a small thing? I don't think so. Coffee is small, yes, but complex, bold and big, yes both small and big. I know you understand.

So many of the cafes have changed. They play that insignificant pop music and forget where they come from! Children crying about their problems! Disgusting, I say! Listen-- this song was the first song I ever heard. It was also on their second record. It's called "Tiny Tears." Ah, such feeling. Sincerity is so rare nowadays. Would you like me to get you some wine, yes?

You've noticed that there's few words? I know, 'tis a shame that Stuart Staples-- that is his name, the singer-- isn't much on this record. I miss him. If I were able, I would kiss his hands and face for saving my life, saving the life of a poor accordion player.

-James P. Wisdom