For inspiration to explode, you sometimes have to let the worst and the best coexist. Championne’s music was born of a furious need to express questions, moments of happiness and darker thoughts, all at once. Her rock is uncompromising. Originally from Rennes, Mathilde Lejas (real name) has been making a name for herself on the local scene for several years now, performing all over France and internationally. In this frenzy, she has experienced moments of intense joy, but also pain and frustration. With this new project, she takes full control of her music. Because when those stored-up doubts are finally tamed, they can be transformed into artistic power. Her first single, “Bilboquet” (a game of skill consisting of a stick connected by a string to a ball with a hole in it), is crystal clear. Blending in with broad synthetic layers and drums that sound like a matter of course, it questions sex and the relationships of domination that often reign there, igniting a burning reflection on desire and submission. It’s raw, it’s virulent. Joris Saïdani, a member of hardcore band Birds In Row among others, produces the eponymous debut EP, adding his sonic mass to the barely concealed metaphors of Championne’s songs. 

Mathilde Lejas has learnt and asserted herself artistically in her previous bands, without escaping the ambient paternalism of a predominantly male rock scene. While her rich musical past has been punctuated by some very fruitful experiences, she has, like many women, had to fight to be considered for her true worth. Even to the point of doubting her own legitimacy. At a time when she was at her lowest ebb, when music seemed like an elusive dream that only the dominant could embrace, she suddenly felt the need to write, to pull herself together and spit it all out. English is more cerebral, but French goes straight from the brain to the pen, from the throat to the microphone, with no filter. By using both, Mathilde Lejas is gradually becoming a champion. 

Her music is sculpted by heavy, fat bass, spacious guitars and massive, threatening synthesizers. They give a song like “Fête” a mysterious dimension, a science of catchy choruses mixed with razor sharp phrases. On this track she displays her love of contrasts, between the darkness of the lyrics, the self- destruction chanted and the falsely festive aspect of the chorus. Sometimes you have to read between the lines. On “Petite mort”, Championne marks her return to desire, to the vitality that inhabits her and the sensuality that inspires
her. Even if everything is not all rosy, and letting go reveals the scars, it is also salutary, proof that music, when it is sincere, repairs and especially strengthens.