"The songs are great, the arrangements perfect, the performances extraordinary. The set has such a terrific flow to it; he knows exactly when a change of mood is required, and almost seems to be telling some abstract story over the duration of the entire record to go with the specific ones in each song.
I realised it had become my favourite record when, almost without meaning to, I kept putting it on to hear the opening numbers (an excellent "Prénoms de Paris" going into a lung-stripping "Les bourgeois" which elicits stunned, even slightly frightened, applause after the first chorus) and found, without fail, that I could not turn it off until the end (when I would quite often put it back to the start and listen again). For a couple of weeks, I listened to it every day, most days more than once. I started to feel that the album was sending me insane, and I didn't care. This slip into the lunatic was confirmed when I heard the record leaking out of the iPod of somebody seated in front of me on the bus (this wasn't in Paris, it was in Rotherham). I took this as a sign from somebody's god that yes, this was it, this was the record. Maybe I should have taken it as a sign that I needed help. Hindsight etc.
Two years later, the fucking thing still makes me miss appointments."