His first stage appearances are still in mind. A tall blonde guy wearing a tracksuit, with a bowl cut, a microphone in his hand, by his side a smartphone and a mini audio jack in guise of an orchestra. And there he stroked us. His voice like Nougaro, his music like Stromae. His lyrics that hit like a punch in the face as on the epic Fête de Trop or the poignant Kid violently deconstructing the models of toxic masculinity. “Where does this guy come from?” we wondered, back then. He actually came from Créteil, Val De Marne, a sleazy suburb he would leave at the first opportunity. Beyond looking obviously young -he is not even 26- and charismatic, it is his hybrid music that sounds incongruously exciting, occupying a spot between traditional French chanson and modern urban music. Less than a week was needed for his debut album to be certified gold. Now certified platinum, it was reissued in a Culte edition with four extra tracks. In may, he will turn the Elysée-Montmarte in a boxing ring for a string of ten concerts, before hitting the road of festivals. What a treat to host him in Fourvière for the first time!