When Glam Rock Went Gallic: The Sweet’s Lush, Unexpected Ballad
To those of us who came of age in the 1970s, the name The Sweet conjures up a glorious cacophony of platform boots, glittering makeup, and the irresistible, driving energy of classics like “Ballroom Blitz” and “Fox on the Run.” They were the undisputed champions of pure, unadulterated Glam Rock. Yet, as the decade waned, the core four—Brian Connolly, Steve Priest, Andy Scott, and Mick Tucker—began a conscious and often tumultuous journey away from teen bubblegum toward serious, album-oriented rock. This evolution reached its artistic peak with the 1978 album, Level Headed, and buried deep within its track list was a piece of unexpected sophistication: the beautiful, Gallic-tinged ballad, “Lettres D’Amour.”
Released as a track on the Level Headed album in January 1978, “Lettres D’Amour” did not receive a wide international single release. In the United States and the United Kingdom, the spotlight was reserved almost entirely for the band’s last major worldwide hit, the art-rock masterpiece “Love Is Like Oxygen,” which itself peaked at Number 9 on the UK Singles Chart and Number 8 on the US Billboard Hot 100. This deliberate move to focus on album tracks reflected the band’s desire to be taken seriously as musicians, rather than just purveyors of three-minute pop singles.
The lack of a single push means “Lettres D’Amour” never made it onto the major charts, but its inclusion on Level Headed—an album that bravely experimented with everything from progressive rock to disco—marks a crucial moment in The Sweet’s history. This was the final album recorded by the classic, iconic line-up before the eventual departure of lead singer Brian Connolly, a split that signaled the end of the band’s most fertile era.
The song’s title, translating from French to “Love Letters,” perfectly captures its intimate, almost European cinematic feel. It’s a gorgeous, slow-waltz of a song, built around a gentle, sweeping arrangement that is a world away from the aggressive guitars of their early days. The meaning is steeped in romantic melancholy: it tells the story of a lonely person finding solace and a safe hideaway in the written word, poring over old love letters from France (“Lettres D’Amour de France / All that I need is love and romance”). The paper itself becomes a refuge, a painful yet beautiful reminder of a love that may be lost or distant. The lyrics speak to an emotional truth many of us understand—the enduring power of nostalgia and memory over present reality.
What elevates “Lettres D’Amour” is the exquisite vocal pairing. Brian Connolly’s heartfelt lead vocal is interwoven with a stunning performance by session vocalist Stevie Lange. Their duet is tender and perfectly balanced, giving the song a dreamy, almost wistful quality. The song’s production—lush keyboards, delicate strings, and a tasteful bass line by Steve Priest—all contribute to the feeling of a sophisticated, reflective moment. For those of us who followed The Sweet through their whole journey, hearing this track is like opening a forgotten time capsule. It’s a quiet testament to the genuine musical ambition that existed beneath the sequins and the thunderous rock, a moment of fragile beauty we still cherish today.