Seven years ago in Paris, Madonna invited Christine and the Queens onto the stage for a performance of “Unapologetic Bitches”. A year after the release of the French artist’s thrilling breakthrough album, Christine (as he was then known) danced the Queen of Pop off the stage before falling at her feet and claiming to be “reborn”. Since then, the singer really has been through a rebirth or two. Amid updating his pronouns to he/him, he shortened his name to Chris, then adopted the alter ego Redcar, or just Red. Now, he’s invited Madge into his world as a kind of sexy-sage celestial being called “Big Eye”, one who narrates sections of his sprawling fourth album, Paranoia, Angels, True Love and assures the younger artist: “I’m dwelling in your sorry, broken, crazy, reaching heart”.
Fans hoping that Madonna’s involvement suggests a return to snappy pop form will be disappointed. Paranoia, Angels, True Love turns out to be a continuation of the freeform experimentalism that the star began on 2022’s questing Redcar les adorables étoiles (prologue). Exhausting and elevating by turns, it clocks in at 90 minutes, stretching over 20 tracks. Co-producer Mike “Synth God” Dean (Kanye West, The Weeknd and Madonna’s Madame X) has created a shapeshifting, trancey, trip-hoppy electronic stage on which Chris has infinite space for his theatrical, stream-of-consciousness exploration of loss, sex, love, and spirituality. He says he was inspired by Mike Nichols’ 2003 TV adaptation of Tony Kushner’s 1991 play Angels in America, in which heavenly beings visit gay men dying of Aids in 1980s New York. After losing his mother in 2019, Chris said he found “a place to rest” in faith, prayer and his newfound belief that death is not final.
“I miss my mother,” he repeats on the Portishead-ish “Tears can be so soft”, his soulful voice swooping, self-soothing and rasping over a slinky bass pulse, and ultimately slipping out of the mix to be replaced by violins. He takes a sweeter tone through the pretty, dreamy melody of “A day in the water”, while on “Full of life”, he successfully repurposes Pachelbel’s Canon using the melody associated with traditional church weddings in quest of “sublime, divine” genderqueer love. “Take my hand and forget I am just another woman… although you’ll never let me be your boyfriend,” he sings. The 17th-century composer might have been surprised at how well a refrain of “lonely, f***ing, touching, something…” would fit over the graceful machinery of his tune. Elsewhere, the uninspiringly titled “Track 10” is an 11-minute electro-odyssey that opens with an echoey plea of “baby take me dancing”. The song is just beginning to test the patience with its meanderings when suddenly it grabs your attention back by blasting off into a Prodigy-esque beat. Chris hits a cocky note as he crows that, “She kept on walking like the crazy French bitch she was, she was not going to surrender…” then breaks into manic laughter.
After delivering most of Redcar les adorables étoiles (prologue) in French, Chris sings most of this record in English. He’s said he finds the language easier for “raging” in. But the only French-titled track on this album, “Aimer puis vivre” contains its fair share of railing against loneliness. The album’s biggest tunes come towards the end: propulsive lead single, “To be honest”, has buttonholing directness, and “Lick the light out” features the most enjoyably overacted of Madonna’s appearances. “Where do you think I stand?” she hisses, with the same metre she used for the “What you lookin’ at?” on the beginning of her 1990 queer-culture anthem, “Vogue”. The track then soars into an ecstatic, drum-rattling chorus of “See me, hear me, feel me/ I’m an angel in power!”
Requiring serious investment on the listener’s part, Paranoia, Angels, True Love is too long and rambling to bring Christine and the Queens any new fans, or much action on the singles chart. Its self-indulgence may even tire some existing fans. But if you give it time to grow its wings, it can really lift you up.
