Review by Dawn
Dix Ans De Succès by Alain Morisod & Sweet People: A Timeless Canadian Gem That Still Hits Right in the Feels
If you’ve ever stumbled across Dix Ans De Succès while digging through your parents’ old record collection or some dusty thrift shop bin, congrats—you just found a hidden treasure. Released way back in 1987, this album is like that cozy sweater you didn’t know you needed until you slipped it on. It’s jazz, folk, world music, country, pop—all rolled into one big warm hug of easy listening vibes. And yeah, maybe “easy listening” sounds kinda boring at first glance, but trust me, this isn’t elevator muzak. This is heartstring-tugging, soul-soothing magic.
Alain Morisod and his crew Sweet People really poured their hearts into this thing. You can tell they weren’t trying to reinvent the wheel; instead, they crafted something timeless, with melodies so smooth they feel like sipping hot cocoa by a crackling fire. The fact that it came out of Canada (on labels Kosmos and Musique Kasma Inc.) makes it even cooler—it’s got that chill northern charm mixed with European flair (hello, Switzerland influence!).
Now let’s dive into two tracks I still can’t get out of my head:
First up, "Et Les Oiseaux Chantaient... Au Lac De Côme." Oh man, where do I start? This song feels like wandering through an Italian countryside dream. There’s this gentle piano riff that floats over everything, and then those bird-like chirps come in, giving you full-on nature vibes. It’s kinda cheesy, but not in a bad way—in the best possible way. Like when someone tells a corny joke and you roll your eyes but secretly love it. Every time I hear this track, I imagine myself sitting lakeside, toes dipped in water, totally zen. Even if I’m stuck in traffic or waiting for the bus, this tune transports me somewhere better.
Then there’s "Un Piano Pleure À Varsovie," which hits completely different notes—literally and emotionally. This one’s darker, heavier, almost haunting. The title translates to “A Piano Cries in Warsaw,” and wow, does it deliver on the tears. The melody is slow and deliberate, each note dripping with melancholy. It’s like eavesdropping on someone’s private moment of grief, except it’s beautiful rather than awkward. I dunno what inspired this piece, but it feels deeply personal, like Alain sat down at the keys after losing something—or someone—important. Listening to it gives me chills every single time.
The rest of the album follows suit, mixing uplifting tunes with reflective ballads. Tracks like “La Plage Abandonnée” and “Le P’tit Garçon Au Piano” have this nostalgic vibe that tugs at memories you didn’t even realize you had. Meanwhile, songs like “Libertad” bring a bit of Latin spice to keep things fresh. Honestly, the variety here is wild—it’s like flipping channels between genres without ever wanting to stop.
But here’s the kicker: as much as this album nails the whole sentimental thing, it doesn’t take itself too seriously. Songs like “Hasta Manana Mon Amour” throw in playful twists, blending romance with a dash of humor. It’s clear Alain and Sweet People knew how to balance depth with fun, creating an album that’s both meaningful and enjoyable.
So why does Dix Ans De Succès stick with me? Maybe because it reminds me life is messy yet beautiful. Or maybe because it proves music doesn’t need flashy production or trendy gimmicks to resonate. Sometimes all it takes is honesty, talent, and a little bit of heart.
And hey, here’s a random thought to leave you with: if aliens landed tomorrow and asked us to explain human emotion through sound, I’d hand them this album. They might not understand French lyrics about lakes or Warsaw pianos, but they’d feel every ounce of joy, sadness, hope, and longing packed inside these grooves. Now THAT’S universal.
