By José Gandue @Gandour
This has been a year of resilience. A year of quarantines, of extreme limitations, of breathing the stale air of our rooms for too long, of watching what happens on the street from our windows for too many hours. For many, 2020 means death by their side, unexpected silences, mistrust, and estrangement. But even so, this has been a year of many musical examples that overwhelm us, that relieve us, that encourage us to overcome what we have experienced. 2020 (and I say this on a personal level) could not be a year for albums that merely surpassed the discretionary quality line, the passing grade. Yes, too many albums have been released that garner a lukewarm reception, a couple of full plays, and then fade into oblivion. It always happens. But, given how these past few months have been, we had to cling to the wonders, to the surprises that, without our permission, slap us awake. It is not the trendy compilations, the ones that repeat formulas, that could heal the wounds of this long battle. That role should be left to works born from risk, from the desire to forge their own path, perhaps not arriving anywhere, but with courage on their side. This year there was no other option; anything else is just repeating the same old thing.
For those reasons I was eagerly awaiting the new work of the Franco-Venezuelan artist. Sophie Fustec, better known in the artistic world as The Girl. In previous years we have named their songs and videos as delightful exercises in restructuring (in their bold way) the established order. She, like few others, reinvents, both sonically and visually, the way of observing and describing life. Throughout his musical journey, we have seen how he has always taken the next step and, perhaps by alienating a complacent audience, presents his work with a test for the listener., who, if he accepts the challenge, will discover the beautiful and complex precision of his productions. I was waiting for his new album, The She-Wolf, A sum of seven songs, and barely twenty-one minutes long. And the astonishment returned.
The She-Wolf It's piano and singing. Yes, that's all. Sounds simple, doesn't it? No, don't be fooled. There may be few elements in the recording, but upon listening, everything is grand enough to embrace us in its grace. The Girl transforms at times into the choir of her own temple, He uses his hands to add additional resonances, and the piano, in its plowing work, makes itself present without exaggeration in its marking of the furrows where all the necessary herbs rest and grow to enhance this recording. This is by no means a conformist job. On the contrary, it is the raw, exposed portrait of an artist who has lived through 2020 bravely battling the wave of personal and collective misfortunes and releasing one of the best albums of recent times.
We found The Girl in the Parisian neighborhood of Belleville and were able to get some answers to the questions that arise from listening to her over and over again. The She-Wolf:
How did you decide to simplify the number of instruments involved in your production?
This album reflects the year 2020 that I just lived through. It was a very intense, violent year, full of change and death. I felt the need to transform all those emotions into music. But above all, to return to the essence of things. So I wanted to present it in its simplest form: with just piano and vocals.
Your album's lyrics also reflect anguish, violence, and certain moments of sadness, but it also has moments of love. Is that how you felt this whole damn year?
Exactly. A lot of anger, but also infinite love. My brother passed away last July. It was incredibly violent, but at the same time, I was able to reconnect with very deep feelings, like supreme love.
If someone asked you to label your music, what words would you use?
Arty pop with modern shamanism (laughs).
Which artists inspire you?
Nina Simone. Radiohead. Debussy. Ruben Blades.
How close do you feel to Latin America, specifically to Venezuela?
I have one half that's very French and the other half that's very Venezuelan! I spent a lot of time in Venezuela until the crisis made it impossible for me to stay any longer.
My brother lived in Mexico, and it became like my adopted home. I need to be in Latin America. It's a balance. So I started developing the project there. And it actually gained more popularity in Mexico than in France. I've spent a lot of time in Mexico. It's a country I love. But I miss Venezuela terribly. It hurts a lot.
I really like your audiovisual development, what do you hope your videos will say?
I see art in a holistic way. So the visuals have to represent me. They have to tell who I am, using artistic references that I love/defend.
That allows me to ask you: Who are you? What do you love? What do you stand for?
I am a collage of cultures, a rare mix, a hybrid being. I defend fusion. I defend freedom. I defend what is "different." I believe in art more than politics. I fight discrimination.
In everything you do, it's clear there's courage, risk-taking, and a nonconformist spirit. What fuels and sustains this whole process?
I don't know (laughs). My dad was a punk and an anarchist. I think I inherited some of that nonconformist energy. I grew up in a very working-class, multicultural neighborhood, with a lot of diversity. I've never seen anyone (including myself) conform to the system's conventional standards. It's a system that doesn't benefit women, the poor, LGBTQ+ people, or anyone else in my life. So I say it my way.
Finally, what are your plans for the future?
The moon (laughs). Seriously. I want to play live. I want to share the energy of music with people. Anywhere.
