J. R. Taylor

I've got my doubts about seeing the singularly named Camille at Joe's Pub. There are some songs on Le Fil that are le artsy, but most of the 18 tracks just seem like gorgeous and airy French pop. You have to listen closely to realize it's gorgeous and airy French pop based on an array of amazing vocal tricks-and who listens closely to the French?

Still, I'm suspicious about the notion of Camille being an important artist. I can't tell what she's singing about, but I hope it's something insignificant. That's how I like my French pop, even when it's lite-rocking. I don't want to know if Nicole Paquin's "Mon mari c'est Frankenstein" isn't about what I think it's about.

I'm further hoping it's just coincidence when I find myself standing in line between two French-speaking couples. That's not the case. Camille's a big star in France, and she's got a hometown crowd for this second of two sold-out shows.

She begins the set with a series of guttural clicks, and I'm thinking maybe she's like Al Jarreau. Then she gets to "Le sac des filles"-which she explains as being about the things that ladies put in their handbags-and one of her backing duo combines '70s glam piano and human beatbox. That pretty much sells me on the evening going well.

Camille must also be pretty funny. There are long stretches where she talks in a language I don't understand, followed by appreciative laughs. It's like being at a Bill Maher concert.

Camille puts on a great show, if a little confusing. Just when I'm thinking she's the Tracy Ullman of France, someone else comments that Judy Tenuta should sue her. That's a little more accurate, since there's an accordion on stage. Mostly, her live show-like Le Fil-translates into sharp melodies couched in rich Enoesque settings.

I also learn a few things this evening, such as not to engage in stereotypes. The audience doesn't smell any worse than the crowd at your average American power-pop show. They're fairly polite, even to me.

In fact, the audience should be complaining about the rudeness of others. The staff at Joe's seems to have decided that French people can't hear the English language. They spend a lot of Camille's show talking loudly amongst themselves about how their auditions are going. I guess they could turn this place into a frustrated-actor theme restaurant if this live music doesn't pan out.