We’ve never covered her somehow, unless you count comparing her to Lana Del Rey…

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Katherine St Asaph: ME: “I really want to love Charlotte Gainsbourg’s music, but it’s never as atmospheric or dangerous as I expect, and there’s so much Beck, and…. FRENCH MUSIC INDUSTRY: “Did I hear ‘get Ed Banger’?” ME: “What? No.” ME, ONE HOUR LATER: “…Fuck.”
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Cédric Le Merrer: Exhuberant SebastiAn is a strange fit for Charlotte’s paperthin voice. I guess she was getting bored with whispering her bourgeois ennui on luxurious pop backings. So SebastiAn made a space-age Italo disco track, with propulsive bass and huge disco strings. Who cares if her voice is just one more texture in this big space machine? 
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Rebecca A. Gowns: A disco trance confection, perfect for walking along in brisk weather with your scarf pulled up over your mouth and steaming up your glasses, or taking the bus and letting your mind skip across the rooftops passing by, allowing your finger to drift towards the window pane and drawing a heart in the condensation.
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Anthony Easton: How this opens up through the elegant collection of beats, adding flesh to a skeletal origin, is pure form. It’s not quite cold, but how it flirts at opening but never quite achieves it has a well-earned, lasting intelligence. 
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Ian Mathers: If you played me this blind and told me it was a track using a sampled Enya, I’m pretty sure I’d buy that. That’s not a knock, on either Gainsbourg’s none-more-breathy delivery or her decision to sound like a well-deployed element rather than the center of the song. Something about it works, because every time the chorus/those strings hit again I find myself with a little lump in my throat (and that’s before I watched the honestly lovely video).
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Stephen Eisermann: A haunting, groovy reimagining of wedding vows. The synths, the vocal effects, and the lyrics place you perfectly in the mind of someone soon to be wed — anxious and excited and nervous and full of adrenaline and etc. Hesitancy should be way more accepted than it currently is in the days before a wedding, and I think this track brilliantly explains why.
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Julian Axelrod: Gainsbourg rides the shimmering, soaring synths with a steady hand, delivering a drunken wedding vow fit for a first dance or a suicide pact. The secret genius of this song? Every critique you lob at it — boring, maddeningly circuitous, wears out its welcome — doubles as a rebuke of marriage as a whole. I hope Charlotte got a refund on her venue deposit.
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