Music Review | Yseult is a Rockstar
The French Singer Takes the Stage in Los Angeles For Her First Performance in the City, Marking Her Second-Ever Show in America
When I arrived, the outside of the club was sticky with a dembow beat. Then I stood in the back of the Roxy Theatre, not quite sober, peeling off my jacket and incubating in the heat of the carpeted walls and the bodies around me. Amidst hips doing mischievous things, all they knew to do to the silvery reggaetón.
The song playing was called “Gasolina” — not Daddy Yankee’s, but an obvious nod to it, coyly spiked with punk.
That’s what Yseult’s new album, Mental, is: punk in attitude, though not necessarily in genre. It pulls from various pre-conceived genres, different teachers, and different persuasions — a mosaic of the chanteuse from every angle, from the wind pushing her forward to the thorns in her side.
Still in the back of the club, I wasn’t entirely sure what Yseult would be playing on this fine Wednesday evening. I was simply relishing it. I hadn’t finished listening to the entirety of Mental, but it didn’t matter — it’s quite easy, I like everything she does. I like being surprised and a bit unprepared, and I prefer listening to a new album live anyway.
There were a lot of Americans — more than I expected — considering Yseult’s past work was primarily in French, with anglicisms worked in. This truly was a win for her, performing in Los Angeles for the first time. The Americans showed up because they loved her new hits – “BITCH YOU COULD NEVER,” “SUICIDE,” and “MTV.” They revered her direct sense of self and purpose.
Through their heads, strobe lights bathed Yseult’s figure. They revealed the French singer’s slitted t-shirt dress reading “B!%CH YOU COULD NEVER,” her decorated argent moto boots, and her confident, explosive energy. She laughed, danced, unraveled, and it was all so inviting.
Years ago, when I first heard her song “INDÉLÉBILE,” I, like much of France, fell in love with her voice — her raw, emotional piano ballads. The ones where you feel the pain trying to escape her rasp, the feeling gracefully leaving her body, like a final quest for some type of grave. I fell in love with “Corps” and “INDÉLÉBILE” before venturing into her more modern pop songs with synths and pulsating beats: “Rien à Prouver,” “La Vague,” “BB,” “SEXE,” “Noir,” “Pause” (with Eddy de Pretto), and her collaboration with JOK’air and ChiLLa on “Nos Souvenirs.”
This year, she continued to climb the international music scene, making music with Anitta, Pabllo Vittar, Shygirl, Ty Dolla $ign, and Banks, as well as making headlines when she closed out the 2024 Paris Summer Olympics with a moving rendition of “My Way,” originally by Frank Sinatra.
Seeing her perform her latest album live was priceless. Her song “MTV,” an emo requiem about yearning and self-love, captured a constant theme in her music: “I’m trying so hard to treat me better.”
In an interview with Gabriella Karefa-Johnson, Yseult shared: “People are trying to humble me all the time. It happened two weeks ago when I said that my last project [Mental] deserved to be more heard and seen in [France]. It was seen as pretentious. In the U.S., when I’m getting interviewed, I’m more comfortable talking about myself like, ‘I love myself as a Black woman. I’m so proud of this project … I prefer to be punk and be like, F*** you, guys. I don’t give a f*** about the rules.’”
I was particularly drawn to “TRANCE” and “TUNING,” both blending high-energy electronic club music with softer, more vulnerable messages. In “TRANCE,” she sings, “J’ai fait si mal à l’intérieur” (“I was in such pain inside”). The song defies the conventional verse-chorus structure — it begins with echoed vocals over a piano, transitions into a pulsing club chorus, and then, suddenly, returns to the stripped-down piano and vocals before ending abruptly without a second chorus.
“SUICIDE” remains one of my favorites, its choral, gospel-influences in the breakdown are breathtaking. It feels as if you’re standing at the gates of heaven, with the light blinding your eyes.
She didn’t play it, but I also love “PETIT <3” from the new album.
I wish I could go back and do it all over again. The show ended suddently with an encore performance of “SUICIDE,” during which she changed into a long, flowing wig to headbang to her final moments onstage. I was definitely left wanting more, as I had hoped to hear “Corps” live. But I respect her artistic vision and choices. I mean, she’s played “Corps” about a million times.
After the show, it was raining. A handful of fans waited outside for her car to leave, hoping to catch a moment with her and express their gratitude. I don’t think they ever got to.
My boyfriend and I burned off the last few minutes of his Super 8 film — memories that would never develop due to a camera malfunction. Annoying how you don’t know it’s a wash until you get the blank, screwed-up film developed. We had images of the alleyway, of upcoming show posters, of the Roxy’s red glow.
And then just of me walking away under the neon. Under the letters spelling out Yseult. It’s pronounced EEE-zult, by the way.
EEE-zult.
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