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Clement is a French singer in her early twenties whose whispery voice and world-weary attitude recall Francoise Hardy at the dizzy heights of yeh yeh-dom, Jane Birkin, Keren Anne, Nico, the early Marianne Faithful (although the lyrics to these songs tend to mirror the mature artiste) and lately, Carla Bruni. Very few singers have the restraint to wait three full years between albums -- the less-rocked-out, soft-jazzy Salle Des Pas Perdus constituted her debut -- but it's obvious that the time was well spent. Touring has tightened her phrasing, which still needed work, and uncovered an inexorable womanly tinge that cuts through the determined girlishness of her vocals like a stiletto through a Prada jacket. Her multi-faceted brother, Benjamin Biolay, wrote most of the songs and among other contributions, supplies a host of partly unraveled, garage-scented guitar riffs. But it's Coralie's show all the way and bodes well for the future. --Christina Roden