It's the sound of 1969. But specifically the sound of 1969 in Europe- where we imagined ourselves throwing cobblestones at the riot police and then hopping into our bright red sportscars to drive to Juan-les-Pins and have lunch in a cafe patronised by "others of the jet set". It's a having your brioche and eating it kind of a song, drip-feeding the listener a list of Euro-trash luminaries and then rising above them all with stony-faced proletarian right-mindedness.
Sarstedt never stopped writing and releasing songs. I don't know what any of them are- or whether any of them are any good- because he only ever managed to capture the attention of the world that one time. Well, it's more than most of us will ever do.
All together now....
You talk like Marlene Dietrich
And you dance like Zizi Jeanmaire
Your clothes are all made by Balmain...
And so on for five minutes of something which if it isn't exactly genius is a pretty good simulacrum.