November 11th saw the release of Redcar aka Chris aka Christine and the Queens aka Héloïse Letissier’s third album, Redcar les Adorables Étoiles (prologue), a steppingstone into a new era, both musically and personally, for the French extraordinaire. As the debut album involving his newest persona Redcar, the work veers into more driftingly abstract soundscapes to unravel this hypermasculine alias, unlike the more mainstream Chaleur Humaine and Chris. Yet there is continuity in his acoustic development; large-scale formats combined with sweeping vocals hark back to his previous releases. Whilst the album unveils Redcar as an alter-ego, it also reflects who he is today, having recently come out as a transgender man, changing his pronouns to he/him. He explained in last week’s Guardian interview with Miranda Sawyer; “Redcar is me, too. It’s me right now. Broken down. Suited, demented man, questing for angels. Misunderstood”. Thus is born a musical epic that represents Redcar both publicly and privately, told through a crusade-like story, threaded together by complex musical tones.
The 13-track album, written in the space of just two weeks, opens with ‘Ma bien aimée bye bye’, inaugurating his transition into Redcar. A percussive introduction is enhanced by a choir of synths and shortly joined by floating vocal lines. The bass works to ground this more delicate soundscape within the funk his audience know so well, yet the melody is wistful, and the lyrics are nostalgic. So, it is a surprise when ‘Tu said ce qu’il me faut’ unexpectedly hardens the acoustic atmosphere, with upbeat drums and spikey vocals, combined with heavy-falling synths, and a journey of struggle begins.
‘Le Chanson du Chevalier’ continues down this notion of conflict as the ‘Song of the Knight’. Released as a single last month, the accompanying music video features Auguste Rodin’s L’Age d’airain, the sculptor’s first bronze statue, representing the physicality of man. Feelings of struggle with identity and discovery permeate the track, reflecting the real-life difficulties of the artist.
Harking back to the more upbeat inflections of previous releases, ‘rien dire’ is splattered with the softer tones and muted drums of synth-pop. Fitting into a more commercial field, verse and chorus here are easy to separate, providing a moment of clarity within the ever-present sonic mist of the album. Yet a contemplative mood remains within the lyrics, anchoring it to the core question of identity. This poppy appeal is also found in ‘Looking for Love’, similarly punctuated by pop synth notions, with the choir of synths now transformed into a fugal collection of Redcars.
‘Les etoiles’ provides a moment of transcendence; the sparse opening draws from both deep bass and airy soprano synth tones, creating a glistening affect, acoustically parallel to that of the stars. The drums build in intensity throughout as Redcar continues to call out to his mother. Here the boundaries of whether Redcar is simply an alias or truly himself become blurred as he reflects upon the connection he keeps with his mother since her sudden death in 2019.
Another shift takes place with ‘My Birdman’, where a lo-fi beat consumes the mood and brings with it a sense of tranquillity. Closing with a chord of harmonics, stillness is finally found. Yet this change does not last long, with the loop of ‘Combien de temps’ quickly cutting through this serenity. Redcar’s vocals saunter over this track, concocting an almost psychedelic attitude. Lasting 8 minutes and 30 seconds, the longevity could mirror the collection of shamanic journeys he has taken since the death of his mother. There is a feeling of both under and over production here; skeleton scores that containing so much thought, perhaps foreshadowing what Redcar will build on in later releases. Indeed, he had planned for this collection to work as a prologue to “an Angels in America-type vision”, produced by Mike Dean.
In the final steps of this journey, ‘Angelus’ harks the ascendence of new life for Redcar, as he declares “From my tall wings that weigh me to my knees, a new earth will grow”. Light is finally reached in the euphoric ‘Les âmes amantes’, upeat in energy and scattered with 80s synths, is this a conclusion or does it mark only the start for Redcar?
Redcar les Adorables Étoiles (prologue) is a journey beginning with the birth of masculine form, followed by transformative episodes that rise towards an ascending finale. A contemplative opus whose abstract style seems to abandon certain previous commercial qualities to represent his current state of being, it is a slow-burner, rather than a collection of instant hits. Working as a prologue for a future project produced by Mike Dean, it leads the way into the latest reinvention of Héloïse Adélaïde Letissier, whose chameleonesque qualities, both past and present, work to show his ever-changing true form. Whilst it is difficult to completely understand the true musings of Redcar, one thing can be certain, he is a man now.
Words by Martha Lily Dean