Redcar les adorable étoiles

Synths bloom like the early morning rays of the sun, reaching out to a lover lost in the darkness. ‘Tu sais ce qu’il me faut’ celebrates seduction as he lusts over a beau; the way they walk, the way they dance, their body is celebrated in all its glory.

By not forcing Redcar's music into a pop template when it doesn't fit, the album reaffirms him as a resolutely independent artist and makes another fine addition to a nearly flawless discography.

Those more open to a ramble will find themselves easily led through the whole journey by Redcar’s commitment to the grooves and expressive vocals. It’s worth taking the whole trip with him, as the mood gradually lightens towards the dawn of final songs “Angelus” (on which he imagines angels descending from the “pissing sky”) and “Les âmes amentes” on which he hails golden sunshine visions of bees and birds and naked bliss. Easy for the cynics to mock, but it’s hard to fault the earnest artistry with which Redcar reaches back for lost innocence. Angelic.

The album doesn’t have near the instant pop appeal of past Queens albums, since much of the music sounds contemplative (it is an opera after all even if it’s still mainstream-adjacent music), but when Chris gives himself over to a beat, he still commands pop greatness.

While the French artist has introduced a new persona and perspective on Redcar les adorables étoiles (prologue), his ability to produce truly unique moments of pop power remains.

Exploring retro music as inspiration can sometimes anchor acts to a sound, but in addition to the overarching transformation into this suave stranger, this artist’s ability to reinvent the album’s genre – hip-hop, R’n’B, synthpop – with each track makes Christine and the Queens' debut as Redcar transformative and enticing.

An easy record to enjoy, but a difficult one to fully evaluate, it presents an artist pursuing vital sense of personal and aesthetic freedom.

A frustrating listen from a brilliantly talented artist. For all of its angels and prophecies and mid-century decadence, what we are left with is a very quiet collection of songs with all the weight of ephemera.

With its slow-disco hi-hat and splashy snares, 'Ma bien aimée bye bye' sets a sedate groove that the rest of the album never quite picks up. There's no irresistible '80s soul-funk like 'Girlfriend', nor a sprightly dance-routine-friendly hit like 'Tilted'. Instead, the pace is usually and resolutely stately.

Though these are often beautiful and uneasy songs, too many of them feel rudderless.

There are glimmers of his facility for earworm melodies and nimble grooves, but they tend to be overwhelmed by an air of bombastic stridency.

Notably absent from Redcar les adorables étoiles is the sense of exquisite, crystalline vision present in Letissier’s prior work. Perhaps this lack is only a function of the production style, featuring reverb-soaked vocals, rambling melodies, and spacey synthesizers.

There’s no song as straightforwardly appealing as Girlfriend or Tilted. That said, there are moments when his innate songwriting ability is very much in evidence. ... But the album is peppered with tracks that feel formless and sketchy.

Even with the bright flickers of Kate Bush-like experimentation and excellent Depeche Mode disco, though, these songs tend to lack the high-definition of 2018's Chris, their earnestly fixed intensity never quite catching from pop smoulder to earth-scorching flame. [Dec 2022, p.84]

It brings its fair share of frustration, but Christine And The Queens’ third record is undoubtedly interesting, a lateral progression if ever there was one.