Despite the notice saying that tickets were still able to be bought at the front door, The Prince Bandroom was pretty darn full, obviously due to the work of Cartell Music director, Jean-François Ponthieux who set the night up. Though with two French bands on the bill you can be forgiven for expecting the music to be the sterotypical French fare.

First up was the wonderful duet of Mark Daumail and Morgane Imbeaud who together make up the band Cocoon. The epitome of when life imitates art. Their fantastic quirky pop music was perfectly complemented by their cute onstage banter with Imbeaud asking for forgivness as her “English is not very good” and Daumail quick to point out that he and Imbeaud were “not together” and that they were both looking for an Australian partners.

Opening with the laid back ukulele driven track Hummingbird, Cocoon prepared the audience for a fantastic set of songs mostly off their first album (which apparently has just been released here, despite it being over a year old). Vultures followed with its jangly guitar line providing one of the many boppy moments of the set. New song Sushi was next with another ukulele song Owls following with Imbeaud counting down the intro in French. The next song Sea Lion required an introduction about how “it’s a sex song”, “inspired by pornography” and how “it’s like we are faking an orgasm” (to get the full effect of these statements, say them with a French accent – automatic hilarity ensues), nevertheless, Sea Lion was an excellent hint of what was to come for fans. Highlights of the set were the laid back cover of Outkast’s Hey Ya with the band managing to get the audience to participate in the obligatory “Hey Ya’s” and adding humour to it by speeding them up, slowing down and telling the audience to sing “in tune”, the other highlight being their most well known song Chupee. Instantly recognised by fans, the song had the audience bopping along and echoing Daumail with “Allo” in the chorus.

Cocoon’s strengths lie not only into their catchy sunshine pop sound, with boppy hooks and lyrics that are quirky (“The beavers are so cute”)and occasionally quite deep (“we have been to many churches, but we never believed”), but also in their wonderful stage presence and banter which served only to endear them more to the audience.

To say that Moriarty were the opposite of Cocoon would be more than apt. Not knowing what to expect when the six piece arrived onstage with double bass and harmonica belt in tow, it was expected their sound would be quite similar if not more folky. This was not to be the case.

With lead singer Rosemary Standley’s deep, jazzy, American accented vocals, Moriarty play old style rock and roll and blues – not what you’d expect to hear at a gig described as French. Despite the shock and the difference in sound from the first band, Moriarty were excellent and put on a great show albeit very withdrawn from the audience, with very little banter, expect to try and get some silence (but more on that soon).

With obvious support from (most of) the audience, Moriarty quickly moved through their set with songs like Tom Waits’ cover Chocolate Jesus getting attention if not from its lyrics “got to be a chocolate Jesus – Makes me feel so good inside” than from the sight of five members of the group all standing, singing into one vintage mic. Other songs such as Jimmy had humourous lyrics “come home Jimmy meet your Uncle Jim, your Aunty Jim and your Cousin Jim” whilst Private Lily told the story of a young naive girl who gets tricked into joining the army and going off to war. The highlight of the set was held for their closing number Whiteman’s Ballad which despite its jarring lyrics (“I saw that White Man coming. Coming to steal and rape – He calls it business”) was a fantastic song ending in a brilliantly complicated music jam.

Whilst the only French lyrical song of the night came in Moriarty’s encore with a cover of a 1930’s French tune, the rest of their tunes are an interesting collection ranging from flat out blues with dueling guitars to Hotel California-esque songs that sound somewhat familiar without coming across as cliched. Though not as catchy or indeed friendly as Cocoon, Moriarty still put on a very good show.

My final point has to lie with the audience. Why would anyone pay to see a gig, then spend the entire time up the back, talking away as loud as possible? Both Cocoon and Moriarty had trouble with this, with both bands obviously annoyed. I’ve been to two gigs at The Prince Bandroom now, where the band has literally had to tell everyone to be quiet. Is there no such thing as respect between audience and musician anymore? Despite this problem, the night was a fantastic way to bring French music to Australia and show regular punters, that it’s not all accordions and undecipherable lyrics.