Théa

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

Surely so as never to forget how hard it sometimes was to break free from the yoke of others’ gaze and constant stigmatisation. The kind that hurts, but which thus allowed her to write her songs, which she calls “tear shops” as she expressed in an earlier track.

THÉA is always searching for poetry in the realm of the bizarre and in the unpredictable energy of concerts, where bodies become a political weapon of emancipation and freedom. Like the party, insofar as it is a way of creating a new space that does not exist within social norms.

THÉA builds her journey with the memory ingrained in her body of that first improvised concert in a Montreuil squat right after 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 is not there to repair, quite the contrary: “music is not a ‘safe place’.

It is instead a place of catharsis, and of pains blended together”. Music as the ideal vector to pursue her restlessness and this ardent, feverish desire for perpetual endangerment. Writing feelings and furies that frighten her.

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