Nobody makes records like this anymore. Scratch that—nobody dares to. Commandant Carlos’ The Charm of Love is a 3 AM stumble through Parisian back alleys, where disco meets punk in a haze of Gauloise smoke and bad decisions. It’s lo-fi before lo-fi was a genre, sleaze before sleaze was a aesthetic. This is music that doesn’t care if you like it—it’s too busy ordering another whisky and eyeing you from across the bar. Those vocals? A half-sung, half-snarled invitation: "Would you start the night with a whisky?" By the time he’s murmuring about "having it all," you’re already in too deep. The production is lofi-raw, the groove is undeniable, and the vibe is dangerously debaouched, and delightfully part of moment that are more and more lost in time. It’s disco if disco had been invented in a basement by a man who absolutely should not be trusted. but then again, why not? So, the real question: ...
Lost and found audio gold, musical jewels and treasure. Soul extremes and borderless suprise.