Olga Tanon

By Andrew Ross

The cover of this album is great, and all the rest of the album art looks really, really sharp. Indeed, even the disc itself is going to make a very handsome coaster.

You see, I used to be a subscriber to the "if I can’t understand the words, I won’t have to know how cheesy it is" theory of world music. However, Olga Tanon has effectively dissuaded me from this hypothesis.

My own linguistic deficiencies were not enough to disguise the saccharine, Dion-esque vocals [albeit sans Celine’s trademark chest-thumping] as anything but trite love cliches.

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