We appear to have an inexhaustible appetite for Chris’s singles.
[Video][Website]
[7.12]
Iris Xie: The first vision I get of this song is of Chris walking around by the edge of the harbor, perhaps wrapping an old worn scarf around some wounds, overlaid with some 80s style grain and cinematography. There’s a heavy warmth to the rumbling synths in the background, an atmosphere that embraces the sad and lonely defiance that she sings. When the synth twinkles and her singing grows more powerful, it’s almost like hearing a flame flicker and grow stronger, with everything in life being the kindle that fuels her resistance. It’s a beautiful vocal performance, with delicate stylings that add to the coarseness of the experiences she is singing about, and the endline writing of “staining my skin/violent blossoms akin” is a remarkable construction of rhythm. Singing about a brutal topic with such rugged, resilient elegance is what Chris excels at, and this song is another demonstration.
[8]
Anthony Easton: I should love everything about Chris, how she moves, how she dresses, how she smokes. The androgynous French chanteuse as post-queer ideal is something that fills me with longing, but longing which is tragically unfulfilled;I just don’t love how she sings. Though I’ll give an extra point or two for the video.
[6]
Alfred Soto: A tougher song about domestic abuse than “Voices Carry,” Christine and the Queens’ worried, aqueous song — it’s like a tear drop encased in plastic — is at its best when the eros-touched harmonies brush against Chris’s anguished lead. Dialectical pop at its shrewdest.
[7]
Thomas Inskeep: Nestled between “Girlfriend” and “Doesn’t Matter” on Chris, “The Walker” is when I go to the kitchen for a snack.
[5]
Vikram Joseph: The overwhelming emotion on “The Walker” is tiredness; the defiance that glistens on the surface of Chris is ragged and threadbare here, worn down by the energy expended in confronting prejudice and challenging expectations. There’s pugilistic, corporeal imagery — blood, bruises, black eyes — but it’s a stark, unguarded moment all the same. “My sense of self’s wearing thin,” is the most revealing line on the whole record; you feel like her self-identity might be all she has to hold on to, but god knows it can be exhausting trying to make sense of it. Musically, it evokes the washed-out, gorgeous weariness of a mid-summer evening, sparse and glowing, all sun-warped synth and a shimmering beat in the chorus that sounds like the flicker of a camera shutter or the insistent twitch of cicadas at dusk. Héloïse Letissier’s protagonist walks into the sunset, hoping just to feel a little more like themself.
[9]
Will Adams: Unlike the thicker textures elsewhere on Chris, the music on “The Walker” is almost desolate, which allows the narrator to cut straight through. It’s only fitting for a song that’s as much about anger and despair as it is finding the resolve to move on from it. “This is how I chose to talk,” sings Letissier, summing up that mixed emotion in plain, brutal honesty.
[9]
Alex Clifton: I love the sparse production on this song. It leaves the lyrics to shine through, like you’re alone with Chris’s thoughts — a kind of vulnerability that’s difficult to put into music but is well-captured here.
[7]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: The French version is superior if only because the language’s phonology is more adept at presenting the complex array of emotions here. Still, the song is well-written enough to transmit Héloïse Letissier’s current headspace in English. The synths are as comforting as they are graceful, encouraging Letissier to continue walking. As she sings, her lyrics are heartening in their frankness. There’s anger, but a sense of therapy; weariness, but unmistakable fortitude. Like the passersby she speaks of, those who casually hear this may not get a sense of the painful experiences that sparked her much-needed striding. But those who dare to move past reductive explanations for her behavior — those who dare to listen closely — will find someone quietly fighting to be the truest version of themself.
[6]