I could listen to this all day, but I probably wouldn't get much done. Here is what La Blogotheque had to say, crudely translated by Google Translate:
We had always had his nose, and sometimes too, and underestimating the size of an apartment that could easily accommodate ten people over. But we never felt we were cramped. The apartment of William, who saved a last minute withdrawal was certainly smaller than average, but we thought it would.
This was besides the piano, we had put in the middle of the room. Besides the cables, pedals, synths, drums full, the console that took half of the bed in the cramped room. In other words it was not counting obsession Sound Beach House, which had taken precedence over the rest, forcing us to deal with.
Could we blame them, to them who took such pains to construct a sound, atmospheres, and so knew what they wanted? Not really, even so, it took almost three hours to our teams, but in the end, when Victoria began to sing, everyone was astounded by the magnitude of this sound, which filled every corner of this old Marais apartment.
It was not crazy, no one screamed, danced. But it was exciting, enveloping, warm gently. Between each song, Victoria let go of his microphone to speak in French. Then the loop will restart, and they were whirling sheets between each pair of cross-legged on the floor. Just music, like cotton, in a semi-light.