Basking in the glory of mid-spring, psyche infused shades of MGMT meet the romance of Honne in this delicious rebrand of shape-shifting sophisti-pop.
Take it in. The pink hue of Cherry Blossoms adorning the botanical gardens of The Bois de Boulogne, its leaves daintily carried across the sky like snowflakes dancing through the ebb and flow of the wind. The toasty sweetness of the nearby pâtisserie permeates the air with notes of vanilla, cavorting with the sound of church bells and lilting nightingales.
With a ubiquitous grin plastered across his face, Guillaume Salle and his nom de plume have achieved a sensory overload of emotions, ambling placidly down a grand boulevard of chic boutiques and gastronomic eateries, raising an outstretched hand to tenderly brush the onlooking horse-chestnut trees that line the Champs- Élysées. Texturally, Wanna Feel embodies the sundry moodscape of the French capital, the theatrics of baroque architecture standing abreast of gilded statuary and the modern facades of contemporary galleries.
Akin to a glossy Mac Demarco, Salle has deftly engraved intricacy into simplicity, creating an impassioned spectacle that weaves ancillary pockets of sensuous richness into sonic coherence, rounded off by a vocal performance as smooth as the mirrors in the Palace of Versailles. It possesses the polished grandeur of mainstream production without the mechanical and over-processed essence.
Whether in a tactile or emotional sense, we all want to feel something. It’s a natural state of being which has until recently been veiled by an ominous shadow of uncertainty. Like the bustling streets of La Ville Lumière, this record is full of life, brimming with sentimental nuances. It serves as a salient reminder that the sun is starting to peek through the clouds, and it’s only a matter of time before normality resumes to shower us with glistening alacrity.