Lala &ce Stays One Step Ahead

Norms mean very little to Lala &ce. Long before she became the queer rapper she is today, little Mélanie Berthinier already had a deep sense that she was different, on the edge. Instead of rebelling, however, she just wanted to understand who she was and to make the best of it. Above all, she didn’t want to live a life of frustration. Today, in the world of rap – and beyond – she has succeeded in imposing her offbeat personality and androgynous style. Her hybrid music is committed, chill and spiritual. This protean artist, soon to appear in a film directed by Cédric Jimenez, also has a forthcoming album. Lala &ce (pronounced “ace,” a pseudonym inspired by tennis), still has surprises in store for us that will help move society forward as it falls in step with her.

What do you think of this quote: “A mind can only be healthy if it feeds on the heritage of the past”?

LALA &CE I agree with the general idea, even if it is a bit radical! The past is not always good; it can even be traumatic for some.

At the same time, how can you know where to go when you don’t know where you’ve come from? For my part, my family is very important in my life. My multicultural heritage – half-Ivorian, half-French – has given me a lot.

How has that mix of cultures shaped you?

L& I’ve been lucky: it was a good experience for me. My mother came to France when she was 30, but she was still very attached to Ivory Coast when she met my father. She brought over the children she’d had there. I grew up with them, their way of thinking, their language, their music. My father was from Lyon, from a very cultured left-wing family who owned lots of books. That’s probably why I’m such a fan of Rimbaud and his “divine” words – his writing and his cadence, like music. I’d love to get a tattoo of his youthful face on my arm. In fact, it’s a blessing for me to have had these two cultures.

You’ve never lived in Ivory Coast?

L& No, but I went there often on vacation, especially in the summer. My mother comes from a working-class neighborhood, Yopougon, and I must admit that because of my mixed race, they gave me a nickname over there: la Blanche [the white woman]. It wasn’t mean-spirited, but it did leave its mark. When you’re of mixed race, you’re never really at home anywhere. You don’t really belong anywhere. You have to create your own identity.

Is Yopougon the neighborhood in Marguerite Abouet’s graphic novel Aya de Yopougon (Aya of Yop City)?

L& Yes! And my aunt’s name is Aya, and she lives there. I know the real Aya de Yopougon! I don’t know the author, but I have every volume of the series at home. I love the dialogues in Nouchi, a lively, hybrid language that’s constantly evolving. I sometimes use it in my writing. In fact, on my latest album, one of the tracks is called “Djinzin,” which means “stoned.”

What kind of music do you listen to in both places?

L& A lot of coupé-décalé [popular dance music from Ivory Coast], club music with no real message. And Zouglou, which is more political, and music from my mother’s village, the Bété tribe. I went there with her at Christmastime, and we met the women behind those songs and sampled their voices, which I’ll no doubt be using on my next album.

You mention your late father in several of your songs. What did you learn from him?

L& He was a very open and tolerant man. He took in my mother’s children. I have his tolerance and great curiosity. And kindness.

And from your mother?

L& Resilience, self-confidence, never giving up.

You moved to London after your father’s death. What did you gain from that experience? 

L& It was a very important moment for me, a catalyst. Going there at that precise moment, to a city where I knew no one, wasn’t easy, but in the end, like a butterfly, I emerged from my chrysalis. I came into my own. I found my look and my sexual orientation, and I flirted in English. Over there, nobody gives a damn; nobody looks at you in the street. Not like in Lyon, where I come from, and where my androgynous side can still surprise people.

London is also where you first released your music.

L& I’d already started in Lyon, but I made the first sounds that became a bit well known, with SoundCloud, in my room on campus. In the end, London was the real beginning, the place where I decided to give up finance and just make music, so I wouldn’t become bitter. I said to myself, “It’s better to be poor and fulfilled than rich and frustrated!”

Let’s talk about your musical heritage, rap in particular. It’s more American, isn’t it?

L& Yes, the foundations are Missy Elliot, Lil Wayne, Kanye West. When I was little, I liked Doc Gynéco, too, and I listened to Booba a lot. I still know some of his albums by heart! Among the women, Diam’s of course. We have the same first name, too. I didn’t identify with her, but I liked her approach to music.

Anything you’d like to confess? A guilty pleasure?

L& You can say that I used to dance in my bedroom to Lady Gaga. [Laughs]

Who was your role model in your youth?

L& I listened to a lot of R&B, Destiny’s Child and then Beyoncé, but it seemed that there was only one way to be a woman for them. I didn’t see women like me. Maybe Missy Elliott. Today, I know that some little girls are happy to see me the way I am. Because even if things are changing, there aren’t many ways of being a woman in rap. It’s still very sexualized. As for gay rappers, it’ll take time. Tyler, The Creator is apparently gay, but as he likes to joke around, we don’t know if it’s true. [Laughs]

I hear you don’t like to talk about women in rap. Is that because you don’t like labels?

L& It’s a tired subject. I’ve been asked so many times whether it’s hard to be a woman like me in this man’s world. After a while, that’s enough – we get it! If I got stuck on that, I’d never have done anything.

You actually started out in a group of men.

L& I was the only girl. When I was little, I was already doing boys’ things, stealing clothes from my older brother, who was a fan of American rap. Also, when you don’t really know you’re a lesbian, you’re kind of shy around girls, without understanding why, so you prefer the company of boys.

Another important heritage: tennis and Serena Williams. You have even said that it was a determining factor.

L& My mother fell in love with tennis and enrolled me in classes. That’s where the “Ace” in my artist’s name comes from. It’s a fatal blow, a ball you can’t do anything against! We used to watch Roland Garros very ceremoniously at home, and I remember a Serena Williams/Justine Henin match. Serena was leading, but the chauvinistic French public managed to turn the game on its head and make her lose. I saw her as a martyr at the time. I saw racism in that, of course, and it set my insides on fire. I identified with her. She was mocked for her looks, her outfits, like that tight black jumpsuit that caused such controversy – anything! But she won everything. And when you win, nobody can say anything.

You don’t have a religious background, yet there’s a certain spirituality about you. Where does it come from?

L& I found my own way, by reading. I believe in the soul, the sun, contemplation. I’ve been practicing meditation for a little while now; I have the feeling that it can take me far. I love the link between science and the spiritual, and I’m fascinated by astronomy. There are so many perfect things in this world; there must be something behind it! Actually, many scientists believe in God.

There are also cinematic influences in your work.

L& Oh, yes, definitely! I have an older brother who edits documentaries and is a film fan. When I was younger, he had big, beautiful posters in his bedroom. I remember the one for Francis Ford Coppola’s Bram Stoker’s Dracula well. I like dystopias – Blade Runner – and Quentin Tarantino’s films, especially Reservoir Dogs.

I can see it in your music videos, which are very beautiful.

L& Thank you! They’re all based on my ideas, even though I haven’t yet put my name on the credits as a director. Maybe I will direct one day.

You recently acted in a Cédric Jimenez film, so why not move to the other side of the camera?

L& Let’s go! Cédric asked me to audition – I think he’d seen me in a music video – and I really wanted to do it. The casting process was pretty intense, with an interrogation scene in which I had to get really angry, even though I’m naturally quite chill. I got the part, and the shoot was great! I worked with Adèle Exarchopoulos and Gilles Lellouche. I can’t say much more about it right now, but I loved it.

An experience worth repeating?

L& Absolutely!