Welcome

In this strange hierarchy known as music criticism, everyone seems to believe they are entitled to judge a voice the moment it deviates by a millimetre from expectations. As if singing were nothing more than an extension of the person who owns it. The moment a singer steps outside the norm, people talk about flaws, not artistic choices.

We often talk about January as a new beginning. As if the year were opening onto a blank page, clean, available, ready to welcome resolutions and idealized versions of ourselves. The idea is comforting, it gives the illusion of regained control, of a clear before and after. I have never identified with that logic. And even less so today…