There comes a time when it's less about the future and more about the past, less about yourself and more about others. We look elsewhere, at other stories, other desires. This is the case for FamilyBen Mazué's new album.
From the outset, this fifth album is addressed to each and every one of us, as if offered to the public. It opens with a tribute to the battles we all fight in secret ("Cette guerre") - and this first track sets the tone. It's an album that's less introspective, less dark, less tormented; a music that's more generous, more universal, more luminous.
And the light that floods these titles is first and foremost that of the family. Family is the album of a father who sees his sons grow up ("C'est l'heure"); the album of a father who writes a song to the daughter he will never have, having had two boys ("Cécile Gagnant").
But at forty-three, the balance is right: you're a father, but you're also a son. Ben Mazué sings about his first nest ("Famille"); he talks about his father, his mother, his sisters - luminous characters who have populated his songs since his first albums. He becomes the child he was then ("Tony Micelli"), as illustrated by the album cover, a photograph of the singer and his cousins.
The family is a foundation; a construction made of traumas and squabbles, a space of shared memories and joys, a bedrock of identity and love. A carefree but decisive childhood, a volatile but decisive childhood: you get the picture when you listen to the album.
The family, which gives the album its title, is also at its heart. The family, the one we leave and the one we build in our turn.
And then the album takes on an even more universal feel thanks to these story-songs, collections of stories reminiscent of Amour Jungle, his heartfelt podcast that attracted over a million listeners in the six months between June and December 2024.
In FamilyOn "La valse de mamie" ("Grandma's waltz"), we discover a story of old age and bereavement, with a 97-year-old woman talking to her nearest and dearest; a story of courage in love ("Crush"); a story of domestic violence ("Tous tes amis l'adorent"). A singer whose experience and sensitivity enable him to welcome lives other than his own - and to tell them.
Of course, Ben Mazué remains the singer who sings about love. In "Rupture", a duet with Yoa, he settles scores - with formulas that you never get over; in my opinion, it's not a chick you're looking for, it's a pet.
Later, in "Revoir son ex", we witness this game of dupe and desire at the moment of the reunion... Ben Mazué confirms, persists and signs: he sings about love like no other contemporary singer.
Because some things never change. Ben Mazué is still the singer who thought he was too intense, too emotional or too sad. His self-portrait in 'Résolution' reminds us to whom we owe all these sublime tracks - and to what. To that exacerbated sensitivity that plays tricks on him as much as it helps him create.
What do we expect from our favourite artists? That they continue their work. Ben Mazué continues his with some of his finest songs. He sings at the top of his game, with simplicity, skill and poetry.
Family is a vast album, which you can't get round in a single trip. It's an album that invites you to wander around it, to wonder about it, and then to come back to it - to look at yourself as if in a mirror.
That's where the magic happens: when you listen to Ben Mazué, you're not thinking about him, you're thinking about yourself. Our whole existence filters drop by drop through his tracks.
Listening to her new songs, we revisit our own childhood, our family and its flaws, our good resolutions, our secret wars, our old wounds. From the first song to the last, we're transported through the turmoil and back to solid ground.
Family is a soothing, luminous and splendid album. In it, more than ever, Ben Mazué speaks to us about ourselves.
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