The cover song is, by and large, a poorly crafted replication of a well-known song. It’s the territory of X-Factor finalists and crappy wedding bands. Very rarely does the copy transcend the original.

And then, there’s Nouvelle Vague.

Twenty-one years ago, the idea of reimagining bands like Joy Division and Depeche Mode into loungey Bossa Nova vibe seemed like an avant-garde experiment, with a potentially short shelf life. Today, Nouvelle Vague is a global institution, having dissected and reassembled some of the most iconic tracks of the post-punk and new wave era. Nouvelle Vague proved that a great song is a piece of malleable architecture, capable of withstanding total reconstruction.

Ahead of their upcoming UK tour, we spoke with co-founder and producer Marc Collin about the project’s enduring appeal, the philosophy of deconstruction, and why the “lounge” label couldn’t be further from the truth.

Meeting Marc, you don’t get the sense of a man who stumbled into success. You get a musicologist, a producer with a deep, almost academic understanding of sound, but zero patience for the bullshit of “sacred cows.” Ask him for the secret to the project’s longevity, and he practically dismisses the question. “I don’t have really a secret,” he says, with the calm pragmatism of a man who’s been explaining the same thing for two decades.

That “notes on a piece of paper” philosophy is precisely why Nouvelle Vague gets a pass. This isn’t reverence, it’s a total deconstruction. Nouvelle Vague doesn’t just change the instrumentation; it performs artistic surgery. Hunting for the hidden melody, the chord progression buried under layers of analogue synths, and exposing it in a new way.

Marc tells me about a recent session for a different project, a cover of David Bowie’s “The Man Who Sold the World,” where the musicians were dutifully recreating the original. Marc had to step in.

“At one point, I just said, ‘Hey guys, this is not interesting.’ I think we have to be more creative, and we have to forget about the chords and everything. Let’s do something personal.”

That, right there, is the method. It’s not about imitation. It’s about translation.

This is why, far from being offended, the original artists have consistently championed the project. They’re not hearing a pale imitation of their work; they’re hearing its ghost, dressed in new clothes. “Most of the bands we have covered really love our covers,” Marc says. “Because we never thought the songs could be like this so it’s a beautiful pleasure instead of just hearing copy or people are trying to imitate their sound.”

As the project evolved, so did the exploration into new genres. The “Bossa Nova” tag was just the starting point.

But that sound, that specific alchemy of guitar and keyboard, wasn’t just the work of one man. For most of its life, Nouvelle Vague was a duo. The project was founded by Collin and the late Olivier Libaux. When Libaux passed away three years ago, it wasn’t just a personal loss; it was a creative one that could have easily ended the project.

Marc describes their dynamic as complementary. “There was always two ways to create the new arrangement,” he says. “The first way was to start from the guitar. So that was Oliv. The second way was to start from the keyboards. and that’s my part.”

I ask Marc to describe some music which defines him and the band. Let’s start off with define the entire new-wave post-punk era with one track or album. His answer is immediate. “I would say, A Forest by The Cure.” A good shout! It’s the perfect distillation of 80s melodrama.

Define Nouvelle Vague with one track. He pauses, then lands on the definitive. “In A Manner Of Speaking.” The Tuxedomoon cover. It’s the track that proves that something quite abstract and stark can become a beautiful, sensual ballad.

And finally, define himself. What single track defines Marc Collin? He hedges, “that’s not easy, let’s say Visage Refectory”

And just like that, the whole project clicks into place. “The Visitors” by ABBA. Not the breezy pop of their early days, but their final, darkest, most sophisticated work. A track dripping with Cold War paranoia, domestic fracture, and an icy, synth-driven majesty. It’s pop music as high art. It’s a song with a beautiful surface and a deeply unnerving core.