This Friday, April 24, you can also find in stores the records by Casablanca Drivers and Superpoze & Blandine Rinkel.
Lolo Zouaï Reverie (Because)
It opens with the ride of 100, which revisits the famous “Je n’ai besoin de personne en Harley Davidson” line by BB; this record is arguably the most bilingual and intimate yet from the singer. Working with a team that is also Franco-American (Joey Wunsch & Al Von Staats, LucasV), Lolo Zouaï has given free rein to her desire to “blend things we’ve never heard together: French chanson à la Edith Piaf with New York drill, or even writing in Serge Gainsbourg’s style over West Coast rap beats.” Between a streamlined rhythm and vocal effects, the album also offers an exotic escape with Toute seule à la plage and a finale that soars in a blend of chanson and variety, on Si j’avais des ailes. Reverie, then. But with eyes (and ears) wide open.
By Sophie Rosemont. Read the review of Reverie.
Foo Fighters Your Favorite Toy (RCA/Sony Music)
Ten invigorating songs in a little over thirty minutes: here you hear a band all fired up, smiling, with a tremor of energy at their fingertips. Worn-out verses, a chorus that hums with a calm, and a bridge that climbs toward a jubilant explosion, Caught In the Echo immediately embodies the celebrations to come, confirmed on the irresistible title track with its youthful harmonies (performed by one of Dave’s teenage daughters). The exhilaration doesn’t fade as the album closes with the glorious and commanding Asking For a Friend (once again, no other band would place such a powerhouse closer at the end of an album), revealed as a late-2025 single without ceremony as a sign of a memorable forthcoming record: a promise kept.
By Noémie Lecoq. Read the review of Your Favorite Toy.
Gia Margaret Singing (Jagjaguwar/Modulor)
Seven years later, Singing isn’t a loud homecoming, but a hushed, almost hesitant return where every note feels weighed. There is in these twelve songs something fragile yet resolved, as if singing has become a nearly combative act. Gia Margaret doesn’t overdo anything: she brushes lightly. Her soft, confection-like “sleep rock” finds here a form of purity, a delicate balance between withdrawal and presence. Singing isn’t merely a comeback album but also a relearning: that of an artist reclaiming her voice—sometimes aided by a welcome Auto-Tune mask—and choosing each word as a quiet victory.
By Xavier Ridel. Read the review of Singing.
Casablanca Drivers Protocol (Arts & Crafts México)
One year after Tabloid (2025), a more conceptual, perhaps less straightforward release and still under the Mexican arm of the Canadian label Arts & Crafts, Casablanca Drivers now emphasize immediacy, lightness, that blend of saturated guitars, verses charged with raw energy, and euphoric choruses that invite you to forget the daily grind. The most striking thing is that this sprawling mix, occasionally a tad chaotic, feels perfectly clear, intimate, and coherent. It’s impossible not to mention the quality of the production and mixing, handled respectively by Corentin “Nit” Kerdraon (Sébastien Tellier, Cola Boyy) and Ash Workman (Metronomy, Baxter Dury, Malik Djoudi), with a clear aim of amplifying every contrast, boosting every idea, and passionately embracing the party’s imagery—here, guaranteed without a hangover.
By Maxime Delcourt. Read the review of Protocol.
Superpoze & Blandine Rinkel Le Disque de ma mère (Banville/Bigwax)
In July 2023, while collaborating with Blandine Rinkel to stage a show (L’Entente) presented at the Avignon Festival, Gabriel Legeleux shared this growing project. Two months later, the singer and writer sent the musician a text in response to the project—a text that would seal their artistic partnership. At the start of 2024, the first demos took shape: Blandine Rinkel naturally became the voice—soft and insistent—of the songs written by Gabriel Legeleux’s mother. Grounded in a piano-synth-voice framework, with various instruments added at points, Le Disque de ma mère moves between pop, French chanson, and neoclassical — “the sound of the childhood home,” as Gabriel Legeleux puts it — with a delicate sensitivity.
By Jérôme Provençal. Read the review of Le Disque de ma mère.
