Released June 2, 2014
8 / 10
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Half Ladies, Narcissus Is Back, Ugly-Pretty, Here
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Paradis Perdus, Nuit 17 à 52
Héloïse Letissier's synth-pop debut showcases an uncanny mastery of pop music's nuts and bolts. She leverages an adroit ear for enthralling progressions to write songs light as feathers that simultaneously carry tremendous weight. In many ways "Chaleur Humaine" is a commentary on queer identity, beautifully packaged under layers of dewy electronics. Remarkable is the fact that the music has the potential to overflow in a variety of directions yet Christine reins in the stream and restrains melodies to the confines of a clearly-delimited space from which cohesion naturally ensues. Lyrically, the record can be a bit verbose, exchanging exquisite lines and convoluted verses alike, not necessarily knowing where to draw the line. Christine's emerging strength is her deeply expressive voice, that cuts through a thick accent, going straight for the jugular - backed by faint production meant to facilitate the emotional exchange between her and the listener. Through the exploration of the self, that Héloïse herself has called "a dream about adolescence", empowerment can be found through Christine's ebbs and flows through tumultuous currents that shape her identity and find beauty in the ongoing struggle to keep a head above water - "Chaleur Humaine" suggests it's okay to hold your breath under water periodically as long as you remember to come back up. The record jumps right in the exploration of the nuances of queer identity and what it all means in the public spheres more particularly. iT acts as an upfront manifesto for anyone listening to the album to know where Christine stands. Through oblique allusions to transgenderism, the track promotes the idea that anyone should be free to choose their place in the world - and for Christine, this form of freedom is accomplished through theater and performance; a signature motif in Christine's discography up to this day. To sputtering beats, an array of synth and breathy backing vocals, Christine wants you to know she's arrived. The main vocals are the song's artery, circulating in circles and bringing all other ingredients together in one conduit. The rasping on the chorus is also divine. In true introduction tradition, the track starts full of drama to create anticipation and builds up to a substantial piece of music. It loses a bit of its appeal by the end, running circles that are a bit too close for comfort. Christine addresses the moments when you can feel inadequate, putting on a face - any face really - just to make it through whatever circumstance you are in. Christine sheds a light on those moments when societal expectations of what is considered 'normal' are blatantly clashing with authenticity - the fear of "oversharing". The music is punchy, filled with attitude, a sonic "so what" that complements the lyrics deftly. The spoken word on the bridge is a bit much: the awakening from the song's reverie is almost violent. A third track lasers in on a broad set of outside expectations - those regarding gender roles and presentation. Half Ladies toys with androgyny as a simple act of rebellion that starts within the self and becomes both the action and reaction to outside perception. The track is very angular, full of holes and corners, held together by a lattice of percussive gasps. Michael Jackson is an inspiration that directly comes to mind, although Christine sprinkles a wide variety of other ingredients - Half Ladies is the furthest thing from pastiche. An example of a track where the hand-clapping beat doesn't chip away at the overall taste level - it almost sounds like keys clanged against one another. "Chaleur Humaine"'s concern does not stop at the individual's identity in the context of the public sphere: it also nosedives in the realm of the private realm through a significant other's gaze - a much closer, nauseating prism to see oneself through. Science Fiction, an italo disco space dream, stays in vague territory, turned towards the vast expanses opened up by an LSD daydream about the figure of Stella. The track bounces, dripping with croaking ambient sounds. There's a slight disconnect between the drip-drop, the stringent beat and her closely-controlled vocal delivery, spacing out words parsimoniously - and then add a layer of strings for more confusion. The ending switches it up and makes for a slightly better track than expected. Paradis Perdus mixes in a cover of Christophe's song of the same name and Kanye's "Heartless". Christine takes us through a journey of loss over soft keys, synth glimmers and a supporting knocking beat. She darkens and smoothens Kanye's vision for "Heartless", re-inventing a staple of the 2000s. From an already shaky start, the song grows into a bit of a theatrical demonstration that renders the music a bit ineffective in transmitting emotion. The effort to sound mournful trumps the feeling itself here. The title track dares to make a pop song out of a story of loss of virginity without a playful spin. It's a very honest, vulnerable and fragile take. On a cosmic backdrop, Christine plays with silence against skies drawn by lingering beats and celestial synths. The track gives off an impression of floating, that doesn't falter with the introduction of new elements to the instrumental fabric: the cello keeps up suspended in mid-air as does the piano on the second verse. Lyrics are some of the most evocative on the album, with less head-scratching moments than in some of the more daring songs. The result is a sound that works well but it just isn't all that exciting to be completely honest. Nonetheless, there are never two consecutive dull(-ish) moments on "Chaleur Humaine": Narcissus Is Back picks up the slack and then some more. The track lands like a meteor in the track list. It's the kind of song that gets me nodding and frowning at the same time. Christine combines determined and breathy vocals along a grumbling beat that seems to be kept in check by her undeniable charisma. What a chorus! "Narcissus is back from under water and kisses his lips again" is a pop moment! Nuit 17 à 52 tells the tale of a relationship, tallying its progress with the number of nights spent together. As Christine shares more and more of herself, the relationship starts unraveling once the short-lived honeymoon phase comes to a close. The premise of the song is cool, lyrically it's a breath of fresh air - not many of the tracks are anchored in a direct form of storytelling like here - and the first verse is probably one of the most heart-wrenching on the record. It shoots directly at the heart; no warning, no mercy. Congruent with previously observed patterns, she keeps production artifices to a minimum. Then the chorus hits. Like a slap in the face. The blandest of movie sountracky passages, augmented with cliché strings, it d-e-s-t-r-o-y-s everything the song let us believe it was building towards. The second verse doesn't recover the lost glory - here the clapping doesn't help. In a very unfortunate turn of events Nuit 17 à 52 mirrors the very relationship it deplores: it starts off full of promise before turning into a nightmare. The struggle for the creation and upkeep of spaces within the private and public spheres to occupy is an ongoing affair that requires constant negotiation. "Chaleur Humaine" is full of that human warmth it adroitly summons through its title - a message of empathy - but its gaze is not naive. The battles are numerous against the world's judgmental glare and the internalized one. The beauty of the daunting task that is finding yourself is that the fight is already one of the highest form of self-accomplishment. Album stand-out, Ugly-Pretty, takes on the duality expressed in its title to reclaim a combination of both and overturning expectations based on presentation. The track follows a cinematic progression propelled by a dance house feel - that fully integrates lingering organs in its DNA! Production is perfect, playing with sparsity and fullness, and knowing how to protect that voice of hers. Unlike Christine, Ugly-Pretty succeeds in incorporating a spoken word bridge that shifts the cadence without distracting from the march we're enlisted to from the moment the first percussions hit. Christine commits 100%, unafraid of the arrow the first verse traces in the sand, moving full speed ahead in this direction with no concern for the prints she leaves behind. She also uses the occasion to deliver some of her stickiest lyrics (a personal favorite: "Without distraught there's no beauty"). Here relies even more heavily on the organ, incorporating it within a 90s pop rock sound. One word for this track: D-R-A-M-A. The final manifesto of the album sounds more like a reminder for herself: she repeats "don't let anything be lost", as she packs for a journey to the next uphill battles. This time around, production is rough around the edges - still concerned with making sure Christine's voice is front and center though. It cements the idea that her studio performance is meant to be digested as such: a theatrical performance in which she is the protagonist as the instruments and electronics bounce ideas off her. Here is a grand finish, ultimately wrapping up a truly impressive debut from Christine and the Queens.
Favorite lyrics
"With iT
I become the death Dickinson feared"
iT
"Nuit 50 j'ai forcé le sang et la foi"
Nuit 17 à 52
"Now I'm lace-like for the rain to come through"
Nuit 17 à 52
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