Christine And The Queens

When Héloïse Letissier arrived in 2014, it was with one of the most compelling origin stories pop had seen in some time. Fleeing Paris to escape heartbreak, the depressed, erstwhile theater student (she was expelled, she says, for defying sexist professors) wound up in a London gay club watching drag queens make their way through a shambolic act on stage. The art of DIY performance presented Letissier with an outlet for her conflicted identity and censured creativity: Christine and the Queens was born, named in tribute to her inspirations. She returned to Paris and worked feverishly on her debut album, 2014’s Chaleur Humaine, which caused a sensation in France—and later internationally—with its elegant synth-pop and lyrics about not fitting in. Her songs felt subtle and sincere compared to other, more mainstream outsider anthems; Letissier was capable of capturing the masquerade (“I’m a man now,” she declared on “iT”) as well as total desolation (“Saint Claude”) of life and art.