Théa a 25-year-old French artist who grew up in the corridors of YouTube and GarageBand, is set to launch her debut full-length Popstar Speedrun on Friday, 2 October. The record follows her 2023 album Memento and the March 2025 EP Comète marking a rapid evolution from bedroom productions to headline shows at venues such as Boule Noire a sold-out Olympia concert last April, and an upcoming Zénith gig slated for March 2027.
In a cramped office of her own label, the artist exudes kinetic energy, repeatedly confirming that the new project is designed to hit listeners like a “boom-boom” at a thousand beats per minute. She describes her approach as “making noise and loving fast, pop-shaped melodies” while drawing from a palette that includes Sum 41, Evanescence and Lady Gaga. The result is a relentless blend of hyperpop emo-core, rap, metal, rave and punk.
Sound design and production: a sprint through genre-bending chaos
The album’s sonic architecture is deliberately abrasive. Each track runs at a blistering BPM, layered with distorted guitar riffs, synthetic arpeggios and crunchy drum machines that feel like a speedrun of pop conventions. Critics note that while the hyperpop template is unmistakable, Théa injects hip-hop interludes and collage-style lyricism that keep the listener off-balance. The lead single “Cavale ! Cavale !” exemplifies this, marrying “black cats, witches and hardcore angels” with a danceable, almost defiant rhythm.
Production is largely handled by Théa herself, ensuring a cohesive aesthetic across the record. The standout collaboration “LÉTAL” with French queer icon Rebeka Warrior emerged after a three-hour coffee conversation, proving that the album is as much about community as it is about sound. Their vocal interplay creates a bridge between two generations of queer musicians, reinforcing the record’s theme of shared struggle.
Lyrical focus: personal disorder as a mirror of a collapsing world
Behind the relentless tempo lies a sobering set of topics. Théa, who identifies as trans, admits that “my intimate disorders are symptoms of the world I grow up in.” Songs such as “Celles qui die” lay bare the anguish of a teenager caught in a web of gender dysphoria, guilt and societal pressure. In “Bodybag” she confronts dysphoria head-on, questioning how fame in a “rotten” industry can ever resolve personal pain.
The album does not shy away from broader concerns either. References to mental health, substance use, violence, bodily autonomy, climate crisis and political uncertainty pepper the verses, painting a portrait of a generation that feels the planet overheating and reactionary discourses rising. As Théa puts it, the party is “less an escape than a response” to a world that feels constantly “in the red.”
Performance persona and visual identity: a video-game character in flesh
Théa treats her public image like a customizable avatar. She toggles between pink hair, platinum blond, tattoos and piercings, describing herself as “a character, a video-game thing.” This fluid presentation allows her to navigate both feminine and masculine aesthetics without being confined by the male gaze. Influences such as Rebeka Warrior, discovered during high school alongside the French electro-punk group Sexy Sushi, have guided her toward a self-definition that feels both rebellious and authentic.
Live shows echo this bricolage of identity. From underground squats where she performed during the post-lockdown period, to the grand stages of Olympia and the upcoming Zénith appearance, her performances blend chaotic soundscapes with visual spectacle, turning concerts into immersive, almost cathartic, experiences for a queer-marginalized audience.
As the album rolls out on 2 October, listeners will discover whether Théa’s high-octane sprint can sustain its momentum beyond the first listen.
