As a Black American who was raised in France and currently lives in Germany, people often ask me about how my experiences on both sides of the Atlantic stack up. The question I get asked the most is, “Which is more racist—America or Europe?”: laughable to anyone who has ever actually had to deal with racism, but I understand the underlying sentiment. People want evidence, no matter how anecdotal, that our understanding of these social issues is progressing somewhere, that the grass must be greener. In reality, it’s two sides of the same coin. America-brand racism tends to be boisterous and loud, whereas France’s colonial history is the cornerstone of its arts and culture yet discussed in hushed tones. The general attitude is one of condescension, like Emmanuel Macron chastising the crowd at a Pan-African summit like an exasperated high school principal. Assimilation is a forever-shifting goalpost and no matter the situation Black people find themselves in or who put us there, somehow, Europe is never in the wrong.
“J’crois que la France a un dilemme/C’est nous les vilains, c’est nous le problème” (“I think France has a dilemma/We’re the bad guys, we’re the problem”) is the opening line on “BLACC*,” the lead single from French rapper LinLin’s lean and punchy debut album, DISCO INFERNO. Her style is brusque but seductive, her voice bursting through a layer of static and snappy beats. “On n’écoute personne/On fait comme Mylène,” she continues, referencing mega-popular ’80s and ’90s French pop singer Mylène Farmer—a huge Francophone star, but perhaps an unexpected shoutout for a young Black musician who claims equal influence from Black American artists like Beyoncé, Azealia Banks, and Nicki Minaj. But on the song’s chorus, LinLin offers a reminder: “Tout est black!” (“Everything is black!”) she chants, grabbing your attention amid piercing, siren-like synths. “BLACC*” is constructed around an explosive sample of “Planet Rock” by Afrika Bambaataa, the cradle of hip-hop, and it’s not by coincidence—LinLin is underlining the fact that all popular music can trace its roots back to Black culture, even in a country whose musical landscape remains notoriously segregated.
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LinLin is part of a growing wave of Francophone musicians challenging these norms by infusing their music with their immigrant heritage while eschewing the mainstream public’s exoticizing gaze—including crossover experimental electro-rap singer Theodora and Moroccan-born rapper Ino Casablanca (who put LinLin on the map last year with their duet “BLICKY”). “MAMAN M’A DIT NON” (“Mama Told Me No”)—another Farmer reference—is a breakneck slice of bouyon, a genre of Caribbean dance music that has skyrocketed in popularity in the past decade. “Maman m’a dit non/Moi, j’suis sortiе, j’ai fait le con” (“Mama told me no/I went out, I acted a fool”), raps LinLin, as the polyrhythmic, energetic riddim rollicks across a hypnotic keyboard melody. “+” uses similar elements, like bouyon’s almost monotonous synth stabs, and slows them down to highlight LinLin’s headstrong sensuality as she demands “plus, plus” (“more, more”). All of DISCO INFERNO was produced by the Tunisian producer and DJ Mobb, who specializes in Afro house, and his expansive ear for reggaeton (the dark tropical rhythm of “BLACC* PT2”), ballroom (“CRUSH”), house (“DON’T STOP”) and other sounds from the Black diaspora help ground the record in LinLin’s identity as an Afro-French artist.
One of DISCO INFERNO’s most unique and satisfying tracks is “CŒUR DE PIRATE” (“Pirate Heart”), an impeccable homage to ’80s radio pop, complete with gated drums, catchy melodies, and a sing-song “na na na” chorus. The song is spiritually akin to classics like Desireless’ “Voyage Voyage,” but LinLin makes the sound her own, updating it with just enough sleekness to save it from pastiche. LinLin has said that Renaissance helped her imagine DISCO INFERNO’s fantastical club setting, and it shows in LinLin’s willingness to cherry-pick from multiple genres of Black dance music, from house to ballroom to bouyon to electro, showing the culture’s enormous footprint while finding her own place within her country’s rigid musical history. France may have a dilemma, but at LinLin’s DISCO INFERNO, the club is the solution.
