There are many things about Sondre Lerche that are almost overwhelmingly French. What makes this inconvenient, for the purposes of critique, is that he's Norwegian. But c'mon, can you really blame me for making the mistake? Check out the vowel-ending name (no ø's in sight), the slightly rumpled fashion awareness on the album cover, and above all, the serious Serge Gainsbourg influence on Lerche's music. I plead clueless Americanism; wasn't pretty much all of Europe supposed to be culturally homogenous by now?

Having spent a little time in the linguistically hostile and hyper self-esteemed city of Paris, I pick up a vibe from Lerche that seems French, if only in attitude. Just as Parisians seem to have an almost effortless sophistication and stylishness to their clothing and behavior, Lerche projects a deep nonchalance in his nevertheless enjoyable music-- it might be the most laidback album of lush pop I've ever heard. Rather than pulling you in with sharp, insistent hooks, Lerche's songs spool out drowsily over four or five minutes, not so much sticking in your head as massaging it.

This mature approach to songwriting is even more striking given that Lerche was a mere 19 years old when this album came out, which I guess makes him the Norwegian Conor Oberst. Much of the musical inspiration here appears to be drawn from the decades before Lerche's birth: lounge strings and distant female "do doo's" with reverb; the jazz phrasing of "Modern Nature", the Charlie Brown Christmas carol piano of "Virtue and Wine". The only contemporary artists he falls in line with are similarly retro-focused characters: "tropicalia"-style Beck, Stereolab's arched-eyebrow space-age material, or, more obviously, the soft-folk of fellow Astralwerks Norwegians, Kings of Convenience.

The drawback of this laundry list is that Faces Down is too often predictable in its dreamy arrangements, containing few surprises to separate Lerche from the legions of gents with a predilection for chamber-pop. Strident choruses in "Virtue and Wine" and "No One's Gonna Come" cut through the haze nicely, but extended attempts to turn uptempo ("All Luck Ran Out") fall flat. Lerche's nonchalance also tends to drag songs out longer than necessary: "On and Off Again" could stop right at the 3:30 mark, before the theremin-accented freakout, and remain just as good if not stronger, while "Things You Call Fate" needlessly cycles a repetitive jam past the nine-minute mark.

Nevertheless, Faces Down will likely please anyone who's into this kind of EZ-indie, as Lechre proves adept at orchestrating large-ensemble set pieces like "Dead Passengers", conversational duets like "Modern Nature", or solo croons like "Side Two". Lerche's slightly Beck tone (sprinkled with a hefty dose of Bowie) allows me to file this record next to the similarly imitative Schneider TM, as another 2002 album I wish the actual Beck had made instead of that bland Jackson Browne woe, Sea Change. Both singer/songwriters like to look at themselves in the mirror and pretend they're the reincarnation of preeminent French scamp Gainsbourg, but in 2002, only Lerche is pulling it off.

-Rob Mitchum, December 12th, 2002