Maud Octallinn - En Terrain Tendre (2017)

The trombone that opens "De ma Cabane" seems plaintive until Octallinn’s voice and an off-kilter piano - stolen from some abandoned fairground - join in and suddenly it’s languid and amused.

This transformation of bitter into sweet is common practice for Maud Octallinn, who has an impressive back catalogue of anti-love songs dressed up joyfully with bizarre instrumentations and surreal lyrics.

A native of France's Champagne province, Octallinn grew up in a valley surrounded by forests, vineyards, and animals. That seemingly idyllic childhood is present in her music; it's full of bulldozers and trout, her mother’s soup, and cabins in the woods. Her first demo caught the ear of the French collective La Souterraine, who asked her to put together a mixtape. The result, mostlamouratée, was released last year and is a glorious freak of an album, recorded at home with the few instruments she owned and things lying about the house: the sounds of stools scraped across floorboards, rustling ficus plants, and percussive pots and pans.

Her first self-produced album, En terrain tendre, released last month through La Souterraine’s Bandcamp, is full of equally brilliant, odd-shaped gems with hints of a lo-fi Regina Spektor or Rufus Wainwright.