The French Feminist Playlist III: Clara Luciani, bringing the disco to Chanson
Luciani performing at Papillons de Nuit in 2019 (Image credit: Selbymay, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons)
‘The French feminist playlist’ explores how feminism has come to be so influential in French music today, arguably to a greater extent than current Anglophone music. Throughout the series, Freya Swinburne reviews the music being made by female Francophone artists today, examining in each column individual artists and specific songs, in the hope that that by the end of the column, readers can compile their own playlist of Francophone feminist music.
To be honest with you, dear reader, this column has been fairly self indulgent… Discussing some of my favourite artists, their activism, with the additional excuse to shamelessly spend hours listening to their music instead of the various other things I was undoubtedly supposed to be doing. However, please indulge me one final time, as I introduce you to (or, arguably, fangirl over) Clara Luciani— the queen of French disco.
Luciani first came to my attention in 2021, when Spotify’s algorithm played me her melancholic duet, Sad and Slow. I then rekindled my love of her last autumn when I spontaneously bought tickets to her concert in Lyon— this turned out to be one of my best year abroad decisions to date. Her groovy dance moves, disco-ball suit, down-to-earth sense of humour and the fact that, somehow, she sounded better in concert than on her albums, completely won me over. In recent years, she has also won the critics over— winning ‘breakout artist of the year’ in 2019, ‘female artist of the year’ in 2020 and has been nominated for ‘best original song’ and in the concert category in the Victoires this year. Alongside this, she has become a feminist icon on the French music scene, and is thus a worthy contender to draw this French Feminist Playlist to a close.
Luciani first started her career by touring with the acclaimed group La Femme. She has since undergone a musical evolution, singing in her first EP of personal heartbreak, rebelling in her first album (Sainte Victoire) against prejudices, and invigorating the post-Covid world with her latest album (Coeur). As a result, she has become one of the leading voices in the French music scene today. In her own words though, ‘when someone hands you the microphone, they’re giving you the time to speak and you have to make the most of it,’ and she does this through her feminist activism. In 2022, she became the patron of the organisation La Maison des Femmes, a charity supporting victims of domestic abuse. Since then, she has organised competitions on her Instagram to grow the charity’s social media presence, donated proceeds of her music to the cause, and written songs denouncing all forms of abuse and promoting feminist causes.
However, much like Pomme, and other French artists today, Luciani does not identify herself specifically as a feminist artist, and prefers simply to think of herself as a ‘une femme féministe.’ In her own words, ‘I didn’t write my songs thinking to myself, I want these to set a moral standard. I didn’t pay any attention to their political meaning. I want people to hear what they want in my songs, all the better if that supports causes such as feminism.’ This explains why a number of her songs are bops for the sake of bops— music that just makes you want to sing and dance and ignore the world around you. In fact, this was in many ways exactly the goal of her latest album Coeur, which was released 48 hours after Covid measures forcing the French to wear masks outside were relaxed. However, in spite of her broader self-identity, Luciani has also created a canon of songs discussing women, her experience in the music industry, relationships between women and beauty standards– touching on distinctly feminist topics. Let’s take a closer look…
La Grenade, Sainte Victoire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=85m-Qgo9_nE
“Hé toi, qu’est-que tu regardes, t’as jamais vu une femme qui se bat?” (Hey you, what are you looking at, have you never seen a woman willing to fight?), Luciani sings in the opening to her anthem La Grenade. With her accusatory tone and provocative rhythm, she called attention to the sexism of the music industry, and society as a whole, as she rejected the way women are continually underestimated. Although she wrote this in response to her experiences on tour, as technicians repeatedly ‘mansplained’ the instruments she had been using for years, the song found its explosive echo in the Harvey Weinstein scandal and resulting #MeToo movement. As a result, La Grenade has since become a staple for feminist rallies across the French speaking world and propelled Luciani to fame.
In the spirit of Luciani’s philosophy that people can read what they want into her songs, breast cancer charities have also adopted this ‘feminist hymn’, reading into the lyrics ‘Sais-tu/ que là sous ma poitrine/ une rage sommeille/ que tu ne soupçonnes pas ?’ (Did you know/ that in my chest/ there is a dormant rage/ that you would never suspect?). Alongside Balance ton quoi, this song has the unique capacity of igniting people, inviting them to sing, dance, but also to protest, and therefore holds a unique position in the world of French music.
2) Ma Soeur, Sainte Victoire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mU63HJ3NYTM
In contrast to La Grenade, Ma Soeur seemingly represents a more personal feminist calling. Written as an hommage to her own sister, Luciani speaks of their relationship, describing how ‘Personne ne crois en toi comme j’y crois’ (No one believes in you like I believe in you). In this upbeat, and what I can only describe as ‘scream along song’, Luciani wanted, however, to draw attention to the broader idea of sorority: ‘of the sisters that we choose throughout life.’ In this way, the song becomes a celebration of women and their achievements. The chanteuse draws attention to this strikingly in her music video. Images with her sister are interlaced with footage of various women who inspired Luciani, alongside archive footage serving to emphasise the historical bond between women. The overall effect that Luciani sought to achieve, in doing so, was to emphasise that sororal relationships are often what give weight to women’s past and future struggles.
3) Drôle d’époque, Sainte Victoire
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OqcrSqg9SBU
In this moving ballad, Luciani strikingly challenges societal expectations of women. She sings that ‘J’ai pas l’étoffe, pas les épaules, pas les épaules, pour être une femme de mon époque’ (I don’t have what it takes to be a woman of my time). When questioned about this in an interview with Konbini, she described how she came to the realisation that society expects ‘women to be loving mothers, the perfect wife, all while being very sexy, and [she could not] be everything at once. As a woman in music, that’s already a lot.’ This song is her rejection of societal expectations, her rejection of people seeing what they want to see in her and a rejection of the prejudices and stereotypes which form the foundations of society’s expectations of women.
4) Coeur, Coeur
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SdUN-ogKY60
Taken from her most recent album, Coeur represents a shift in Luciani’s style. The electro-synth backing-track screams of Donna Summers and harks back to the days of disco . Hidden behind this upbeat, danceable song, however, is Luciani’s wholehearted denunciation of domestic abuse. One of the most striking examples of this is in her chorus, as she sings ‘L’amour ne cogne/ Que le coeur et ne laisse jamais personne/te faire croire le contraire’ (Love only beats the heart and don’t let anyone make you think otherwise). In doing so, she puts the spotlight on acts of domestic violence committed in the so-called name of love. The song therefore sets a powerful precedent for her album, which she herself describes as ‘a declaration of love but also a declaration of war.’
Much like La Grenade, Coeur occupies its own unique place in Luciani’s oeuvre, it is at the same time, one of those dopamine releasing, dance along songs that sometimes you just need to listen to, and yet, at the same time, it attacks society and the prejudices within. This approach has been adopted by so many artists in the French music scene today— from Angèle, Pomme, Clara Luciani, to Yseult, Barbara Pravi (the Eurovision icon herself), Camélia Jordana, and so many more. Celebrating French feminism through the vibrant musical culture of French chanson is, in many ways, just a celebration of the women who are shaping the industry and, indeed, French society today. Please accept the following playlist as an introduction to these amazing women. It only scratches the surface, but that just means you should explore for yourself, and maybe create your own French Feminist Playlist…
https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3pDSX9ncbpxZgI2z1P0x6w?si=af034f1b0a1d4707