In September of 2024, I will experience one major milestone. It will be the 20th anniversary of the moment I “broke free” from the Catholic Church. The notion is a bit facetious, as I would attend mass occasionally throughout the years, but the regularity was gone. It was perfectly symbolized in a moment when, as a Freshman in high school, I attended my middle school’s Confirmation presentation and decided that it wasn’t for me. In front of my friends that I had made over the previous three years, I decided that this sacrament wasn’t for me. It may not seem like much to outsiders, but it was one of those moments within the religious body that sent a clear message. I was using my first moments of independence to say that maybe there’s something more out there for me.
Any teenager who doesn’t have a period of rebellion is lying to you. It appears differently in everyone, and for me, it was denying any sense of faith. By the time I reached college, my church going days were over. The conflicts around the public reputation of the church burned a bit too brightly, where scandals and bigotry made me relieved to forge my own path. It would be many years before my views on religion evolved ever further, realizing that for as much as I hated The Westboro Baptist Church-type of faith, I was still keen on the modest, personal approach of someone like Jimmy Carter. It was hard to ignore that some of the songs were catchy, that some of those stories were memorable. As an anthology, the bible is a substantial work of allegories. I struggle to see it as anything more…
…but then there’s angels.
I think on some level, angels as a concept have escaped the realm of religion and exist as this spiritual force of good. Not to be mistaken for ghosts, I was taught at a young age that angels were protectors, providing guidance to those in need. There was even a popular movie when I was a kid where Joseph Gordon-Levitt was protected by an angel-fied Christopher Lloyd so that he could win at baseball. Certain concepts may have not aged flawlessly for me, but the idea of this greater unseen force holding onto the balance of existence lingered. One wants to believe angels walk among us, though often it’s mere mortals who recognize the value of humanity. Angels as a concept reflect a greatness none of us can achieve, to be omnipresent and avert disaster just in time. Is that what we become in death, or are they preordained from centuries ago?
When Christine and the Queens released their new record “Paranoia, Angels, True Love,” I was overwhelmed with emotion. Whereas some complain that the 97-minute magnum opus is overlong or too atmospheric, I find it a transcendent work of art. At times, I am elevated by its discussion of identity and desire, longing for that greater connection. Maybe it’s one of a deceased relative or an intimate partner. Whatever it is, hearing him recall with ecstasy on “I met an angel” how they’ve discovered something ethereal, I cannot help but relate. It’s never entirely clear if the angels that flutter around this record are ultimately for good or evil, but I can’t help but find this resonance in how the topic is discussed. The first line details the angel coming down upon the weak protagonist and the last joyfully recounts how they were protecting him from the darkness. This is an album that exists somewhere in the air, not fully formed or understandable. The trip-hop melodies are interpretive. The sparse lyrics work like a prayer. It’s not a religious record, but still I can’t help but wonder how different it must play for secular audiences.
To provide a certain context, the record was conceived by singer Heloise Adelaide Letissier as a self-reflection on a variety of topics. The most publicized was that of his mother’s passing. Like the loss of any parent, one has to wonder what a life without that guidance must be like. Having not gone through that particular loss, I am not capable of adding commentary. However, the longing for connection that runs throughout the record could very well just be a genderqueer artist looking for that piece of spirituality where it makes sense. Maybe with the right form of expression, an angel will come down and bring about a few moments of euphoria, where Letissier and his mother will reunite.
It only makes sense that the other prominent piece of inspiration came from the Tony Kushner epic play Angles in America. As much as “Paranoia, Angels, True Love” exists with this conflict of the afterlife, having Kushner’s text adds historical contexts not only of death but of queer survival. As a commentary on the AIDS epidemic during the 1990s, it’s a very nostalgic piece that is anchored by this feeling of decay and hopelessness. However, as anyone who has seen the show (or HBO adaptation) will attest, there is a dreamlike middle ground where several characters will meet not in real life but in some subconscious. It’s a narrative tool with power to show something spiritual that goes on in our mind, where we long to feel like we’re all existing alongside each other.
Finally, the inclusion of Madonna as the most prominent guest produces an interesting piece of history unto itself. As a prominent artist supportive of gay rights, Madonna released albums like “Erotica” which was a reflection on the emotional failures brought on by the AIDS crisis. In more obvious manners, it could be a reference to her 1989 masterpiece “Like A Prayer” where she contemplates her own faith, even singing about her deceased parent at one point. The quest for identity shines through in this novel piece of casting, making her an angel whose voice barges through the calm tone of Letissier’s self-reflection. It’s almost dissonant at times from the track, where the instruments tear back and it’s like we’re witnessing the sonic version of light breaking through a window, blinding us as the force of good reaches out to help us.
At 20 tracks, this is quite a commitment for casual listeners. In fact, I don’t know that anyone not ready to take in a mood will enjoy this. Without a close ear to lyrics, there’s a good chance that some of the sparse lyrics may appear redundant in theme. One has to recognize the way that an emotion can build. It’s an album with a three-act structure, and the transitions can be so slight that they’re confusing. Even then, those who have their own personal connections to angels and desire will find something to admire about this album. Letissier is so ingrained in the body that it sometimes becomes its own piece of expression. At times his breath beats chaotically, maybe in orgasmic ecstasy or having a body filled with meaning. So much of this record is about giving oneself over to feeling, and the more that you do, the more it will become clear.
In the modern age, it’s difficult to find any certainty. In America, the fight for LGBTQIA+ rights has found us taking on very powerful enemies. Some days it feels hopeless to read the news and discover that the Supreme Court is rejecting the idea of a gay couple. At other times, Rainbow Capitalism’s backlash has revealed the limitations of trusting corporations for validation. Without digging into all of it, the times are bleak. I think what makes Christine and the Queens’ approach particularly enriching is that by recalling Angles in America and Madonna, there’s an awareness of history. Previous generations managed to survive to tell the story. Even in death, their legacy lives on in those willing to tell the tale. We all exist with the fear of social collapse, but it’s important to never give up hope.
And most of all, that’s what I need. I need reminders that the world isn’t entirely evil. I need art that expresses itself when culture most wants to censor it. There is the need to recognize that we’re not alone, and that there are others struggling with their identity. Our bodies are a complex creation, and it’s foolish to not accept that. For some people, it’s a lifelong journey that will only open more doors. That is who “Paranoia, Angels, True Love” is for. Letissier spends the first third of the record quivering, wondering about the forces that exist inside his body, challenging the idea of gender while listening to Marvin Gaye and Pachelbel’s “Canon in D.” The latter stands out not only for being one of the most recognizable pieces of classical music, but for how Letissier reinvents the harmony, finding unison with an interpretive verse. It breathes new life into the track. Given that it comes after “Marvin Descending” which sounds either like a song freeing the soul or something more sexual, there’s this theme of media fusing itself with the body, becoming crucial to how he defines himself. As electronics come in, notably on 070 Shake tracks like “Let Me Touch You Once,” there is this feeling of confidence growing. To witness the 11-minute “Track 10” in context is to find him growing more abstract, finding the unformed parts of the body trying to speak out. It’s surreal and maybe the most esoteric piece of a cryptic puzzle, but it really works at reflecting how we can be changed spiritually if we open ourselves to it.
I am attracted to the way that this album encourages the listener to free themselves of any shame that keeps them from greater truths. It’s a record that needs patience because nobody’s life is formed instantaneously. Once we notice the forces around us that can open us to a greater world, there’s something sublime in it. As the first third of this record transitions into the middle chunk, there’s a sense of profundity. Much like the end of Angels in America’s first part, the abrupt sensation that comes with Madonna’s first appearance overwhelms the listener. It’s jarring, but it also feels like maybe she symbolizes a force that will guide us to something greater. As many fans of her work will attest, this is probably some of the smartest type-casting she’s done in at least 15 years. By the end, I see Letissier’s willingness to sing bilingually in English and French as the acceptance of his true self, that he’s finally connected to his heritage and maybe even his mother. She lives within him. They are one and the same. Mother is now an angel guiding Letissier on a level only a child can fully understand.
Having listened to it five times since its release, I come away with a different experience each time. Sometimes it mostly exists as that atmosphere where it sounds like wandering through a hall of angelic harmonies. Other times I have taken in every note and feel the emotions swelling up. I get goosebumps and recognize myself in the lyrics. I love the tenderness in his voice and the way that “Flowery Days” mixes these timid melodies with a jaunty piano melody that slows as if noticing the limits of running. Whatever it is, there’s this search for an angel in our life and sometimes it’s the art we consume, the people we have known, or the feelings we keep to ourselves, only letting out in true moments of vulnerability.
This record feels special because it has unlocked something comforting at a time when I really needed it. This year has been at times terrible and it’s been tough to feel optimistic about where things are going. For as much as I recognize the joy that is out there, sometimes you feel alone. Somehow this record reconnects me with so much of what drives me as a person. I recognize the pain but I also recognize the celebration and dizzying sensation that comes with a perfect touch. The way it booms from my headphones causes my heart to race, allowing the echo to reflect my own search for meaning. I don’t understand it all, and then again I don’t feel that way about myself. It’s a record whose confidence is in allowing the flaws to shine through and recognizing what it means to be human. As the ending suggests, maybe this was protecting me from the darkness. It is making me recognize the good in myself and even the fact that for as much as religion no longer functions prominently in my life, the ideas of compassion can’t help but stick around.
Most of all, this is an album that doesn’t simply exist to celebrate being queer. As thrilling as that is, it’s about everything that makes up one’s identity. It’s about the body and the way it’s molded by experience. It’s the way it thinks and communicates with the world. More than any album I have heard in recent years, “Paranoia, Angels True Love” enhances that idea and makes you engage with your own. Given that this is my first Christine and the Queens album, I am now curious to go back and listen to their entire discography. I want to know how they grew into this. I want to know if what they created before was masterful and insightful. Much like my experience with this record, I’ll believe it when it happens.
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