“These words have always been there, present, witnesses of my life, hidden refuges in my otherwise transparent body” explains the main character of Blood Book (2023), written by Kim de l’Horizon. It takes a certain type of light to show those hidden feelings of sanctuary. One that only breaks through after a storm: fractured, prismatic and impossibly soft. Thx4Crying the French artist from Reunión, captures that same light and transforms it into sound.
After 5 years of singles and EPs, they present their self-titled debut album in which they offer not only a collection of songs, but a lifeline: the intimate infrastructure of a queer life, laid bare. The result of years of resistance, powerful collaborations and a growing presence in the French queer underground, they invite us to listen with our whole being: to remember, to feel and to heal. As they say: “I see resistance in care, in taking care of each other, and creating happy memories for us and our communities.”
This album released last month breathes as a living archive, a chart of sonic relics that bear witness to memory, marginality and evolution. From sombre club echoes to hyper-pop luminosity, from distorted guitars to ambient catharsis, Thx4Crying maps the emotional terrain of what it means to grow up queer in a world that often rejects even your reflection. Produced by Louise BSX and Mona San, the album becomes a sanctuary of sorts, a liminal space where pain is poetic, and tenderness is revolutionary.
“Je me sens en cristal, libre mais en cristal (I feel like crystal glass, free but in crystal glass)” they sing on Crystal, the lead single that encapsulates fragility and power in the same shot. Over the course of nine songs, Thx4crying builds a world in which vulnerability is not only allowed but celebrated. On Rien ne m'attend, managing pain becomes a collective hymn; on Dans le village, techno throbs with the pain of liberation. And on Eternal, the album's final offering, we are left with a quiet promise: that softness can survive. This is an album for those who have ever felt too much, too different, too out, too themselves — a generous offering of care, courage and queer futurism.
In this conversation, the artist reflects on vulnerability, making music with their close friends, thanking people for allowing themselves to feel things, and the incredible Afterlife Collective. Thx4Crying not only tells their story, but helps others feel safe enough to tell theirs.
Your debut album, Thx4Crying, is already out. It’s a fantastic collection of songs that capture your essence, expand the narrative of your lyricism and take your sound to another level. Going back to 2019, you were making music under the Refuge alias, what does this moment feel like?
It's a really special emotion! A lot has happened in my life over the last few years, some difficult moments but also a lot of beautiful artistic moments. Today I feel like I've found a way of making music that makes me happy. I've written songs about stories that are important to me, and making this album at my own pace with people I love has been a way of turning sad stories into something bright. I feel very lucky for that.
Crystal, the first single, is a fantastic song that enhances your music. And I love the lyrics, “Je me sens en crystal, Libre mais en crystal, Prêt·e à tout mais fragile, Sans peur mais sans racine”. I love how you have captured both vulnerability and bravery in it, and the play on words with light and its reflection. What is the story behind this song and why did you choose it as your first single?
Thank you so much, Antonio, for your kind words! I chose Crystal as the album’s opening song because there was something both bright and sad about the intro that I think reflected the overall mood of the record. It’s a song about finding freedom by embracing your vulnerability, and about the chance to flourish thanks to your loved ones and your community. I wrote the song with my talented friend Mona San in their studio in Lyon. I played the chords on a keyboard and recorded the intro vocals, then they started working on the production while I wrote the lyrics in my notes, sitting next to them. It was a really sweet, intimate moment. Some of the songs on this album wouldn’t exist without the support I received, especially from my close friends. So, it felt natural to open the album with a song that speaks about them, and in a way, speaks for them too.
I was very happy to see Rien ne m’attend included on the album. I think it’s one of your best songs, almost like Thx4Crying’s manifesto. “Lié·es, coalisé·es par la peine / Celle qui coule dans nos veines” you sing, and it seems like a collective cry of the queer community. It’s also very well captured in the video directed by Florian Salabert. I love the ending “Je sais que rien ne m’attend / Mais je cherche quelque chose”. Almost like crying on the dance floor but still dancing. How did this song come about?
Rien ne m’attend is a song that means a lot to me, I’m so glad you connected with it. I wrote it in 2022, shortly before the release of my first EP, montagne d’émeraudes. Queer artists and artists of colour in France are treated very unequally. The majority of the music industry (like society as a whole) is dominated by older, cis-heterosexual white men. The way things are structured isolates us and exposes us to many forms of violence in our work. We’re constantly comparing each other, made to feel interchangeable, less relatable, less marketable, and ultimately pushed to give up on our dreams and ambitions. Rien ne m’attend speaks to that violence, and to the invisible wounds we carry, but also to the connection and solidarity those wounds can create between us. Even if no future is imagined or promised for us, that doesn’t mean we can’t move forward and make one ourselves.
Bizarre is another great song on the album, and the video seems like a continuation of Rien ne m’attend. You appear alone again, only the location is different; it looks like you’re on a rooftop. It’s almost like the perspective is a bit of a departure from the previous song. How did you work with Florian Salabert for this one?
Yes, the video for Bizarre was conceived as a continuation of Rien ne m’attend. Florian Salabert, a photographer and filmmaker I’ve admired and worked with since the very beginning of Thx4Crying, directed both videos. In Rien ne m’attend, I appear in an interior space, as if locked inside my room. Then in Bizarre, it’s as if I’m stepping out of that room, onto the rooftops, ready to face the outside world and begin a new path.
On Dans le village the instrumentation reinforces techno moments in this beautiful production. The more we unveil from the album, the more it feels like a letter to a younger self. Was it exhausting to pour so many feelings into your art? Is there a cathartic element to creating these incredible songs?
I wouldn’t say it was tiring to pour all those emotions into my songs, but rather that I experience it more as a form of healing. A lot of things happened in my life that were hard to put into words at the time, and music has been a way for me to understand and express my story, while finding a place for my memories. These songs blend stories from my childhood, adolescence, and adulthood, along with how I view them today. It’s like taking care of the connection with my past self, trying to make sense of what’s been and what is now.
Another highlight of the album is Emo song. The song keeps the tension going, as you would expect some hard beats that never quite explode but create a perfect atmosphere for the lyrics. I wonder if you started working on it with just some guitar chords or was it in a different way, and how was the process of developing it?
Thank you! Emo song, like the rest of the album, was composed on a computer, this time using a guitar preset on Ableton. I wanted to create a song that sounded very simple and guitar-based, to reflect the long hours spent in the parks near where I grew up. After composing the first version with Mona, I asked my dear friend Coco (who plays guitar in the amazing noise-shoegaze band Fishtalk) to record some real guitar takes. It had been a while since I worked with musical instruments that are not digital, and it felt really good to bring back this kind of texture and warmth in the album.
What is your creative process like when composing new music? Does it start with lyrics, melody or something else? And do you have a favourite place or space where you feel most comfortable doing it?
I always write songs on my computer, using a tiny keyboard and the mic from my headphones. I like having a setup that I can take with me anywhere. My ideal situation for working on new music is being alone, somewhere a little far from home. But since that’s not always possible, I’ve learned to enjoy writing from home or at a friend’s place too. I usually start with a theme or subject I want to explore. Then I’ll play some simple chords on my keyboard, and most of the time I write the lyrics and the topline together, in one go. Once I’ve got a demo I like, I usually ask Louise BSX or Mona San to work on the production together.
You sing, “Je nous vois dans un monde si imparfait, comment ne pas faire un pas de côté” on top of a very cool electric guitar, with the fun mix of Spanish, English and French in one song when counting numbers. Le goût de la fête is a moment where certainty and security begin to play a narrative role in the album’s story. What can you tell us about this song?
With Le goût de la fête, I wanted to create a song that followed the same structure as the very first tracks I made as Thx4Crying in 2019-2020 — songs like Fête triste or Le concert. Back then, I was writing about sad romances at parties and concerts in the city. This time, I wanted to revisit that same form, but to show how much my life and values have changed since then, and to capture a moment when partying had lost its meaning for me. To illustrate that shift, my beloved friend Louise BSX and I decided to remove all the rhythmic elements from the track. Also, we had a lot of fun building the song, allowing ourselves to add whatever felt right, without constraint.
I guess, given the album title and your stage name, I have to ask you how you came up with the stage name Thx4Crying. Does it have any personal meaning?
I chose the name Thx4Crying as a reference to my emo teenage years, spent mostly online, which played a big part in shaping who I am. I also liked the idea of introducing myself by thanking people for allowing themselves to feel things. It kind of gave me permission to sing all kinds of sad stories, (laughs). It started as a joke, but over time it’s become something I feel very connected to.
I think light is something very present on the album, metaphorically, as it seems to come and go with the different stories told in it. Eternal almost feels like a farewell. It made me think of SOPHIE (I might be getting it wrong), as I know the impact she had on so many artists. We are left with “Tu n’es jamais trop tard, ma star”, a very beautiful wish. Why did you decide to close the album with this song? Has the relationship with fans given form to some sort of responsibility when talking about certain topics in your songs?
I’m glad that you see light throughout the album! It was important to me that it be present in the songs, as a kind of horizon of hope, in spite of everything. I don’t really think of myself as having a responsibility to the people who listen to my music. Personally, I think I connect best with songs that come from a place of honesty, where the artist seems to be creating for themselves before anyone else. So, I’d say the whole process of writing these intimate tracks was about loving them myself and finding fun and joy in every step of their creation. But of course, it makes me incredibly happy when my songs resonate with other people’s lives or offer a little hope. That also gives meaning to the very act of making them. I chose to end the album with Eternal because it’s a slow and peaceful song, and I thought it would make a sweet au revoir.
To me, it also feels like a thank-you to all the artists I’ve admired, whose music has helped me in so many ways. I’m endlessly grateful for them, and I find something truly beautiful in that kind of bond, quiet and eternal.
To me, it also feels like a thank-you to all the artists I’ve admired, whose music has helped me in so many ways. I’m endlessly grateful for them, and I find something truly beautiful in that kind of bond, quiet and eternal.
You have created the Afterlife Collective, a space that seems to fill a void that many didn’t know existed. I also think of artists like Malibu, Lucky Love, Oklou, Kalika, Couturier, Oete, Ange Halliwell and so many others as a generation to which you belong, of mainly queer artists who are changing the landscape of pop music in France. Can you tell us more about what inspired the collective and what it represents in your artistic trajectory? And how does the French pop landscape feels at the moment?
I think what inspired the creation of Afterlife in the first place was PC Music. Louise and I were amazed to see so many queer artists we loved being connected and forming a real community. During the lockdowns, their online events really touched us. They raised money for trans organisations, anti-racist initiatives, and brought people together around art and care. That’s what made us want to organise parties ourselves in France, to create a space where people could meet, discover music, and connect artists who don’t necessarily exist in the same circles. Through that, we’ve built beautiful connections with amazing artists like syyler, Jeanne To, Thanas, Théa, and many others. And I like to think those connections go beyond just being artists in the same industry. It’s about creating a world where we can exist together, admire one another, and show up when someone needs support.
Over time, Afterlife Party became Afterlife Collective. Today, we’re nine artists (musicians, producers, photographers, directors) who work together and help each other every day on our projects. For me, it’s one of the most important things I’ve ever been part of. It gives me so much strength. And as an artist, I find a deep sense of purpose in the idea of doing things collectively. Thanks to Afterlife, I don’t feel like I need to belong anywhere else, it’s like we’ve created our home. As for the French pop scene, I’m not sure I have a clear opinion on it yet. I still feel like I’m figuring things out myself. But I’m very moved to see more and more queer voices and alternative projects finding their space.
Over time, Afterlife Party became Afterlife Collective. Today, we’re nine artists (musicians, producers, photographers, directors) who work together and help each other every day on our projects. For me, it’s one of the most important things I’ve ever been part of. It gives me so much strength. And as an artist, I find a deep sense of purpose in the idea of doing things collectively. Thanks to Afterlife, I don’t feel like I need to belong anywhere else, it’s like we’ve created our home. As for the French pop scene, I’m not sure I have a clear opinion on it yet. I still feel like I’m figuring things out myself. But I’m very moved to see more and more queer voices and alternative projects finding their space.
Your visual scope is another of the captivating elements of your work. The videos of montagne d’émeraudes, Alors Je Descends Plus Bas or loin de moi le drame, or even my favourite je vais t’aimer. I wonder where your inspiration comes from both visual and sonically.
It’s funny that je vais t’aimer is your favourite! I’m not sure why, but it’s also a favourite among several of my close friends. I rarely play it live, but sometimes I add it to the setlist at the last minute just to make them happy. I think a lot of my visual inspiration comes from anime, pop culture, and video games. Florian Salabert, who has created all my visuals from the beginning with director of photography Nina Richard (except for loin de moi le drame, which was directed by Laurens Saint-Gaudens), has translated my songs into images with so much care and creativity. He created a whole visual universe that mixes weddings with the devil, lesbian love stories, medieval dramas, 3D adventures, and the search for identity. And it’s a long-term collaboration I truly love.
Sonically, there’s so much music that has moved me over the years that it’s hard to tell what’s directly influenced the album and what hasn’t. Maybe it’s a slightly chaotic mix of early 2000s French pop, Bollywood songs, queer electronic music from the 2010s, alt bands, American pop stars, and the emo bands that shaped my childhood. When I work with Louise and Mona on production, we don’t really set rules or limit. We don’t try to sound like anything in particular, and that’s what makes it so fun.
Sonically, there’s so much music that has moved me over the years that it’s hard to tell what’s directly influenced the album and what hasn’t. Maybe it’s a slightly chaotic mix of early 2000s French pop, Bollywood songs, queer electronic music from the 2010s, alt bands, American pop stars, and the emo bands that shaped my childhood. When I work with Louise and Mona on production, we don’t really set rules or limit. We don’t try to sound like anything in particular, and that’s what makes it so fun.
What has been so far the biggest challenge of your career as an artist? Is being an independent musician in France something sustainable as a way of living? Things are quite scary at the moment all over the world, all over the place. The LGBTQ community is becoming more and more the aim of hate speeches in many countries. How are things where you live and how do you see this picture, in general?
I think my greatest challenge as an artist has been healing from some violent and difficult experiences I’ve faced professionally and learning to let go of the projections others placed on me: the parts of myself they thought I should show or hide. I didn’t grow up in a big city or in a particularly artistic environment, so in the beginning, it wasn’t always easy to know who to trust. Today, I feel like I’ve found a sense of balance with that. In France, as in many places around the world, fascist, racist, and anti-LGBTQ+ rhetoric is on the rise. The growing violence creates an atmosphere that’s a constant reminder of how political and fragile our rights, and simply our being, really are.
In recent years, I’ve felt myself moving between moments of deep anger, numbness, and loss of meaning. But today, I see resistance in care, in taking care of each other, and creating happy memories for us and our communities. From that place, I believe we can start to organise our resistance.
In recent years, I’ve felt myself moving between moments of deep anger, numbness, and loss of meaning. But today, I see resistance in care, in taking care of each other, and creating happy memories for us and our communities. From that place, I believe we can start to organise our resistance.
What’s next for Thx4crying? Any upcoming live dates?
I've started writing new songs that I really love. I’m not sure yet what final form they’ll take, but I’m really looking forward to finalising them! Over the past few months, I’ve also been working on various collaborations that will likely be released in the coming months through Afterlife Collective. As for concerts, I’m planning a tour towards the end of this year and early next year. I can’t wait to share the album in its live version!
Florian, thank you so much for this chat, I wish you the best with your new album and your future!
Thank you so much for this lovely chat and your kind words!
