by William RuhlmannRaphael, the young French rock singer/songwriter of the 2000s, not the Spanish pop singer of the same name whose career dates back to the '60s, ended his debut album, Hôtel de l'Univers, with a piano ballad, "Libre Service," after rocking out for most of the record in the manner of David Bowie, circa The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust. On La Réalité, his second disc, he picked up exactly where he'd left off. Bowie was still an influence, but it was more the Bowie of Low that interested Raphael now, and he even seemed to have been listening to sometime Bowie compatriot Lou Reed's Berlin. La Réalité had none of the driving rockers found on Hôtel de l'Univers; Raphael had scaled back to a set of ballads with slightly atonal melodies, the better, perhaps, to convey "the reality" the title promised. On "Ô Compagnons," he even brought out an acoustic guitar and harmonica, evoking the sound of the early Bob Dylan. But electronics formed most of the backing as Raphael turned introspective and self-consciously poetic, even titling one song "Etre Rimbaud." The album seemed a surprising one for an artist who had attracted a young, largely female following, but maybe that was the point. On La Réalité, Raphael seemed to be signaling that he was a rock poet to be taken seriously.