Back catalogueīorn in 1967, Bruni is the scion of a wealthy Italian industrialist family, the Bruni Tedeschi’s, who moved to France when she was seven years old to avoid the attentions of the Italian Red Brigades. I’m Italian, so I like to talk very much - promotion is not really a problem for me,” she reassures. But she’s surprisingly unguarded in her conversation, self deprecating, and as I quickly discover, laughs a lot. We are apprehensive: given the weighty trials and tribulations of the Sarkozy presidential era, Bruni could be forgiven for being wary of journalists. Her living room is crammed with recording equipment, a piano taking pride of place. Europe is in the throes of a heat wave and she apologises for being late, but her home is without air conditioning and she needed to cool off. We speak to Bruni at her Paris home in the 16th Arrondissement. Unlikely bedfellows include Depeche Mode’s Enjoy The Silence, Miss You by the Rolling Stones and a strangely understated take of AC/DC’s Highway To Hell, all delivered in Bruni’s captivating sultry voice. For French Touch, she’s chosen to cover a quirky bunch of songs. Much to her credit, each of Bruni’s albums has been dramatically different she’s continually eschewed any suggestion of following in the Hardy/Vartan tradition. To think French female singers is inevitably to conjure visions of the elfin Francoise Hardy, or possibly Sylvie Vartan Euro pop riddled with languorous ballads, cheesy choruses and maybe an accordion grinding in the mix. But it’s easy to understand why, after her first lady role, Bruni is clearly delighted to have her new album, French Touch, about to hit the streets. Most of us would give our eye teeth to have enjoyed those kind of chances. Now, of course, the cynic might suggest that none of this is exactly gruelling. Once again, your music has to go on hold.
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