Brouillard Sur Paris: A 1966 Jazz Time Capsule That’ll Fog Up Your Speakers
Let’s get one thing straight—when an album called Brouillard Sur Paris (translation: "Fog Over Paris") lands on your turntable, you kinda expect it to sound like a smoky café where Sartre and Simone de Beauvoir are arguing about existentialism in the corner. And guess what? Jean-Claude Pelletier et Son Orchestre deliver just that, but with a Canadian twist. Released in 1966 under the Lero label, this Contemporary Jazz gem feels like someone took the Eiffel Tower, dunked it in maple syrup, and added a shuffle beat.
Now, before we dive into the tracks, let’s talk vibes. If you’re not vibing with this record after track three, I’m calling shenanigans on your soul. It’s got waltzes, bluesy laments, and even some quirky numbers that feel like they escaped from a 60s French film montage. But two tracks stood out to me like baguettes at a poutine party: “Parisian Waltz” and “Brouillard Sur Paris.”
First up, “Parisian Waltz.” This isn’t your grandma’s waltz—unless your grandma was really into sultry saxophone solos and a rhythm that makes you want to twirl dramatically in an empty hallway. The melody is smooth as butter, but there’s this subtle edge, like Pelletier knew he could’ve phoned it in but decided to sprinkle some jazz fairy dust instead. You can practically hear the cobblestone streets of Paris whispering secrets while you listen.
Then there’s the title track, “Brouillard Sur Paris.” Man, this one hits different. Imagine walking through a foggy street at dawn, except instead of feeling lost, you’re accompanied by a brass section that’s equal parts melancholy and mischievous. The tempo shifts just enough to keep you on your toes, and the piano work? Chef’s kiss. It’s moody without being overdramatic, which is harder to pull off than you’d think.
Of course, no review would be complete without mentioning “Saint Averty’s Blues,” because who doesn’t love a good ol’ fashioned blues number? It’s got that slow burn vibe, perfect for staring out a rainy window or pretending you’re in a noir movie. And don’t sleep on “Un Peu Fou”—it’s short, sweet, and packs more punch than a double espresso.
Here’s the kicker though: listening to Brouillard Sur Paris feels like rediscovering an old friend you forgot you had. Sure, it’s from 1966, but its charm hasn’t aged a day. Maybe it’s the timeless allure of jazz, or maybe it’s just proof that Canadians do Paris better than most Parisians. Either way, this album deserves a spot in your collection—or at least a spin during your next dinner party to impress your artsy friends.
Final thought: If Jean-Claude Pelletier were alive today, I’d totally ask him to score my life. But only if he promised to include more shuffles. Shuffle beats are life.
