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Chrystelle, with a golden voice and a generous heart, unveils her new song Mon Père (My Father), an emotional tribute to her dad. The artist invites us behind the scenes of this poignant creation, reflecting the depth of her emotions and her artistic commitment.
As a singer-songwriter, Chrystelle pours her heart and soul into her creative projects, while maintaining harmony between her identity and her work. True to her emotions, she draws from her inspiration and sings tirelessly. She shares the backstage story of her song Mon Père with This Is Beirut.
Why this tribute at this particular moment?
It’s an important moment in my life. In two weeks, I’m getting married. I also wanted to release this song just before Father’s Day to thank my father for his presence and support. I have always had a great deal of admiration for him. Passionate, he passed on his love of music to me, and it is thanks to music that I met my fiancé. When we were little, dad always sang us Fairuz operettas during long car rides, translating them for us because we didn’t understand Arabic very well. He also made us repeat after him. That’s how we learned Arabic and singing. It’s important for me, just days before changing my last name, to tell my father what he means to me. He has always supported me, even when he didn’t understand my choices. I’m sort of the ‘rebel’ of the family, so I can tell you, I wore them out (laughs). In some Lebanese families, an artist’s life is still not very accepted; they’d prefer one to be a doctor or an engineer. Artists are often seen as economically unstable… They like to applaud them, but when someone in their family chooses this path, they worry. I understand this parental concern, of course, but it doesn’t make things easier for young people who want to follow this path. Not only do we have to fight against ourselves every day to keep moving forward and believing in our potential, but we also have to fight with our family and explain to them that it is a real job. My father has always been an ally because he understood that music was my greatest happiness.
“Vous dire son regard” (to tell you about his gaze), you sing. Could you “tell” it in words?
My father’s gaze is, above all, filled with passion, the gaze of an idealist, of someone who dreamed of his country all his life, who fought for his country, who gave it everything: his time, his pen, his savings… Since 2020, he carries a sadness that is hard to erase… this is what I was singing about in Alors je reste (And So I Stay); his eyes betrayed and filled with nostalgia. My father’s gaze is also that of an honest man, who cannot be corrupted. I have always admired that in him, as he is uncompromising with himself and his values. Finally, his gaze is a laughing one, full of love, that of a man who would give everything for his family, someone who never abandons you in difficult times. His gaze says, “Hang on, I’m here.” I am lucky to have such a father. Moreover, I didn’t want to wait for his “final departure” to pay him tribute. People often wait until it’s too late to do this kind of praise. You have to tell those you love these things while they are alive. No time is to be wasted. I, too, am very shy with my feelings; only music allows me to verbalize everything. That’s why my music project has the feel of a diary. My songs carry all my unspoken words.
“Chaque jour est un départ” (each day is a departure). In your current departure, what baggage do you take with you?
That’s a beautiful question. For me, every morning is a new departure and an opportunity to try to redo what we missed the day before. I don’t give up, and I think that stubbornness is my best baggage. Success in music, or in anything else, is not a destination but a journey, the perseverance to keep trying, never stopping, and enjoying the moments of happiness that each step offers us.
What does “chavirer” (capsizing) mean to you?
It means sinking into a form of despair, when it feels like nothing makes sense around you, and there’s no way out. I have a “borderline” personality, so I often experience moments of euphoria and moments of despair. It’s quite exhausting, but I’ve gotten used to it. In those moments, I think of my family, and I tell myself that if they manage to stay the course, then I must try again too.
What is your comfort zone, and why not stick to it?
I would say in pajamas, with lots of snacks, watching a teenage love series like Gossip Girl! (laughs). It’s so much easier to dream your life than to live it. The worst danger would be to lose yourself in this imaginary world and let yourself sink. Music allows me to continue challenging myself. Daring to write, daring to let people listen to your creations, daring to release new songs to the public, daring to sing them on stage, daring, daring, daring… There’s no music without audacity. Making music your profession means constantly stepping out of your comfort zone. It’s so much easier to create and never let anyone hear it; at least you don’t risk being criticized. Yet, if you stay in those moments of personal complacency, you don’t evolve, you don’t learn anything. Continuing to try again is growing.
Between Beirut and Paris, where is your “bon port” (the right shore) today?
For now, I’m a bit adrift. I haven’t been back to Beirut for four years… I’m tired of the Parisian life, even though Paris is the most beautiful city in the world in my eyes. Yet, the pace of life is too exhausting. I’m looking to build a new harbor, elsewhere. I have currently chosen Spain, Valencia in particular, where I find a Mediterranean atmosphere while not being far from Paris. I hope to settle there soon.
Your future projects?
I have several songs ready to be unveiled to the public. The release of Mon Père marks the beginning of a series of new titles to come. The project is called Implicite (Implicit). It’s a super intimate project, in which I sing all this unspoken poetry. It’s a one-on-one with myself.
Your ultimate ambition?
To find harmony, to learn to love myself a little more. I struggle a lot with my image. I am my worst enemy, so I would say to learn to appreciate myself more.
