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Wednesday, Aug 18 2004
I like France. But listening to Marseille-born Cherie's soulless self-titled record has put me in the mood to start renaming certain combo items. This chanteuse's much-hyped debut starts out with a Foreigner sample for chrissakes, and goes quickly downhill from there. Cherie, my darling, can I talk to you, s'il vous plaît? America already has a Faith Hill, thank you, and we like her more than you. Just because you're hot and 19 and French and can (almost) sing doesn't mean we won't see through your thinly veiled attempts to be a radio programmer's wet dream. You cannot be R&B, Top 40, and country all at once. You must choose one area in which to suck, and then stick with that. This is the great American tradition that was worked so well for Shania Twain and Celine Dion. Merci.

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Charlie Amter


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