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.