Careful, "Let's not get angry" suggests Spartaco Sax, the famed song accompanying French daily paper FRANCE-SOIR's campaign against road violence: music isn't that serious, often times really not. In any case, it is with this not so serious ear that one should listen to this selection of chachacha, mambo and other genres to twist and madison to, as music-lovers pinch their noses and block their ears. And yet, these breezy and light songs under their false airs of effortlessness draw out an astonishing analysis of late 1950s France with its partying baby boomers. Put on your dancing shoes, everyone on the dancefloor, let's go baby. The record starts out with an esoteric organ, a guitar straight out of a western, a vibey rhythm section, a speeding saxophone, a glamorous voice, a curious keyboard, a slightly panicky tempo... "Please Mr Hitchock!" calls out a voice from the unknown, on an arrangement that's about to lose control. The tone is set. Eins Zwei Drei, cries out Spartaco Andreoli, creator of the Chachacha for tunas, lyrics that are absurd accompanying music that isn't so much so. And this is just the beginning. I can already see those making fun of it, and yes, I admit it does sound a bit comically-tragic, but more often than not, a persistent riff or melody will get stuck in your head, a chorus that you'll start unintentionally humming, your foot that starts beating unbeknownst to you. "C'est bon ça dis donc !" (This is pretty good), suggest the Los Goragueros, at the start of their Mambo Miam Miam (Yum Yum). A smooth sax, a double bass that sways and shattering percussions, this song anonymously written by Alain Goraguer (there is often an "os" (bone), added to the band name for a little authenticity, i.e Los Chiquitos and Los Albinos) is actually quite tasty. This arranger and pianist who went on to write the indispensable Planète Sauvage (Wild Planet) is not the only one to have advanced half-masked in these tropical times. Just as Michel Legrand devoted himself to rock music, for better or...