Théa

and L-D-21-490 (L3)).THÉA positions herself as the figurehead of a generational surge as nonchalant as it is insolent, where “kidz fucked up” become “new h4rdr0ck3rs” embodying a new phenomenon

THÉA positions herself as the figurehead of a generational surge as nonchalant as it is insolent, where “kidz fucked up” become “new h4rdr0ck3rs”, embodying a new phenomenon that turns everything upside down. THÉA does not shy away from her past wounds.

Surely so as never to forget how difficult it sometimes was to free herself from the yoke of others' gaze and constant stigmatisation. The kind that hurts, but which allowed her to compose her songs, which she calls “tear stores” as she expressed in a previous track.

THÉA always seeks poetry in the territory of strangeness and in the unpredictable energy of concerts. Where bodies then become a political weapon of emancipation and freedom. Like celebration, as soon as it is a way of creating a new space that does not exist in social norms.

THÉA builds her journey with the memory deeply ingrained of that first improvised concert in a Montreuil squat after the lockdown. A gesture of agitprop and survival.

Now she says she feels “too beautiful on stage”, with the infinite pleasure of interaction nourished by this foundation of intersectionality. For her, music does not have the function of repairing, quite the opposite: “music is not a 'safe place'.

It is, conversely, a place of catharsis, and of mingled pains”. Music as an ideal vector to pursue her disquiet and this ardent and feverish desire for perpetual self-endangerment. To write feelings and furies that scare her.

This life of a woman on the run is decidedly filled with dreams as dangerous as they are salvific. © Didier Varrod