![]() His ambition and ability to execute it appear undimmed by the nine years since he released his last album-a gap partially enforced by a debilitating physical reaction to anti-malarial medication and its psychological aftermath. Coupled with his old-fashioned commitment to high-concept hijinks, Stromae is a delightfully improbable and inscrutable pop star. His lyrics also often inhabit the headspace of shitty men, trying on their self-justification for size and unraveling it with glee and a journalistic eye for hypocrisy and weak logic. In some ways, televised news was an oddly perfect stage for an artist who frequently sets lyrics about stark social issues-domestic abuse, economic precarity, cancer, colonialism-to euphoric, swarming dance-pop. But that wasn’t what Stromae seemed to be doing (though in Europe there was no shortage of the latter). Rascally pop stars have always enjoyed making mischief on the news-it’s a basic way of establishing the distance between you and the straight mainstream, as well as efficiently converting offense to publicity.
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