EVERYONE HAS QUESTIONS FOR CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS

PHOTOGRAPHY BY JESSE GLAZZARD

SAINTS ARE BORN FROM THEIR APPARITIONS, those evanescent moments where they are touched by the grace of a higher being. Redcar, better known under the moniker Christine and the Queens, has had a few such visions in the past year. The 34-year-old French musician is known for critically acclaimed releases like his 2014 debut album, Chaleur Humaine, and cusp-of-the-pandemic EP La vita nuova—sonic lightning bolts that slalom between shades of pop. With each project, Redcar sheds skins and dons new ones with theatrical flair. Last fall, he released Redcar les adorables étoiles, a sonic prologue to this summer’s Paranoïa, Angels, True Love

Though Redcar’s career has been defined by its dynamism, Paranoïa, Angels, True Love may mark his most meaningful departure yet. Recent years have brought significant change in the artist’s life. He lost his mother four years ago, and he came out as trans last year. For Redcar, who began work on the album from an eerie perch in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles, the album chronicles a dark, desperate dive into loneliness and the sublime. Over about a month, he lived and worked monastically in a trance-like state of consciousness: “Every day was spent quite alone, praying a lot, walking for hours, seeking visions,” he remembers.

“Almost like a kid, I put myself in the state of waiting. I realized that I actually like music when it appears to me, or happens to me.” Produced by the legendary Mike Dean—who shaped the recent work of artists including the Weeknd, Beyoncé, and Lana Del Rey—and featuring vocal contributions from Madonna and 070 Shake, Paranoïa, Angels, True Love soars and plunges, bringing listeners on a heady emotional ride. “It was like working in a pure swarm of energy, and it made me feel so alive,” says Redcar of his angelic trio of collaborators.

Angels—including the artist’s late mother—are at the core of the record, which takes as its inspiration Tony Kushner’s 1991 play, Angels in America. The musician was drawn to the idea of otherworldly beings appearing in his life, and “breaking the fabric of space and time.” Music, though, remains Redcar’s forever teacher. “I love to be a student,” he says. “I love when music humbles my ass with cosmic slaps every time. It makes me grow as I go.”

To mark the release of Redcar’s opus, CULTURED asked a few of his friends and admirers to share their burning questions with the enigmatic artist.

–Ella Martin-Gachot