Some lives unfold like a carefully written score, others like a feedback-soaked improvisation played at night, alone, with the windows open to the world. Ellah A. Thaun belongs unmistakably to the second kind. Born in France and shaped by sound, image, intuition, and survival, she moves through music the way some people move through dreams, intensely, vulnerably, without compromise. From the first shock of John Lennon’s voice in childhood to the restless urgency of teenage distortion, from noise and shoegaze collectives to intimate lo-fi folk confessions recorded on the edge of sleep, her art has always been less about genre and more about truth. Guitar strings, drum machines, sketches, photographs, and whispered melodies all become extensions of the same searching gesture, an attempt to translate lived experience into something that can be felt rather than explained.
As a transgender woman, Ellah speaks of transition not as a label but as an awakening, a filter through which the world suddenly becomes sharper, more dangerous, more beautiful. Her work carries the weight of that awakening, love as an absolute necessity, anger as fuel, tenderness as resistance, and creativity as a way to stay alive in a society that too often refuses to listen. Whether performing solo in quiet rooms or shaping expansive soundscapes with Valeskja Valcav, she stands at the intersection of music and art, fragility and defiance, romance and rage. This interview is an invitation to step into that intersection, and to listen closely, not only to what Ellah A. Thaun creates, but to what she has lived, endured, and transformed into song.
Monika: Today it is both a pleasure and an honor for me to speak with Ellah A. Thaun, a transgender woman, an artist from France, a singer and guitarist, co-founder of the electronic duo Valeskja Valcav, and a solo folk songwriter. Hello, Ellah!
Ellah: Hi Monika!
Monika: Do you remember the moment when music stopped being just a passion and became something you knew would shape your life professionally?
Ellah: I was 5 or 6, after watching the documentary "Imagine" (about John Lennon) with my mother, I think. I remember being deeply moved without knowing why exactly. I started my first band at 13 after listening to 'Nevermind', like a lot of teenagers born in the eighties and I haven't stopped playing since.
Monika: Your music feels both deeply thought-out and intensely lived. Where do you usually draw your inspiration from?
Ellah: I think I love music so much it's like I'm studying every record I'm listening to. Some are made just like any piece of art. There's architecture, a texture, thoughts hidden behind the soundscapes. But I've always said to myself that you can't really make music until you have really lived things, felt things, experienced life. That's why I was so frustrated as a teenager, I felt like I had nothing to say except writing about teenage anger, you know. And at the same time, I wanted to say everything about everything. That's why I've never forgotten that working on 2 sleepless nights in a row on a record is totally stupid and useless if you're not capable of allowing yourself to go outside and follow what life has to tell you. So, that's the true inspiration for me.
Ellah: I think I love music so much it's like I'm studying every record I'm listening to. Some are made just like any piece of art. There's architecture, a texture, thoughts hidden behind the soundscapes. But I've always said to myself that you can't really make music until you have really lived things, felt things, experienced life. That's why I was so frustrated as a teenager, I felt like I had nothing to say except writing about teenage anger, you know. And at the same time, I wanted to say everything about everything. That's why I've never forgotten that working on 2 sleepless nights in a row on a record is totally stupid and useless if you're not capable of allowing yourself to go outside and follow what life has to tell you. So, that's the true inspiration for me.
Monika: Valeskja Valcav has gone through several incarnations over the years. How did the project begin, and how would you describe the evolution of the band’s sound and releases?
Ellah: It started as a collective in 2007 in my hometown, then in Paris where I lived because I wanted to settle down there. But that didn't work, the collective was pretty much not playing, but I released two EPs and a single for a Parisian label. That was shoegaze, arty music sung in French at the time, and I was bored with it and ready to stop everything when I met Jill, my astral Siamese soul. She insisted on making a new band, as Valeskja Valcav, and as a duo. It was late 2009, early 2010. We made pure instrumental noise music for a year, then added drum machines and voices. Starting from nothing, we played our first concerts in Paris, then recorded two EPs, had very good reviews, and did a residency in Rouen, where I was beginning my studies at art school.
Monika: That sounds like quite a journey. How did your audience react as you started touring and experimenting with the band's sound?
Ellah: People seemed very enthusiastic about our music, and we toured as much as we could in France, and then in London, Berlin... We recorded what was going to be our first LP in 2013, but we never finished it. We didn't really like what we did, and we experienced a lot of technical difficulties too. We got a little freaked out about what the next VV was going to be, so we took a year off to focus on our respective solo projects and to rethink VV for the third time.
Monika: Between solo work, visual art, and Valeskja Valcav, you seem constantly in motion. What are you working on right now, and where will people have the chance to see you perform live?
Ellah: Well, in 2014 I worked intensively on my solo project as Ellah A. Thaun. I've released 13 LPs since 2010, pure lo-fi folk music, collages of demos, rehearsals, and sessions alone in bed with my guitar, always in relation to my artworks in drawing and photography.
Monika: How do your visual artworks connect with your music during performances or recordings?
Ellah: Like in VV, artworks are as important as the music. That's when I decided to finally start touring solo and to release my music on physical formats too. I'm touring in France throughout the year, but not as much as I want because I need to prepare my degree at art school after five years of study. I'm playing in Berlin in April. For VV, we have a date next month in Paris and another one coming up in Brussels, but more importantly, we feel ready to release our first LP, I hope before June. When we have it in our hands, we'll look for a label and start intensive touring next year, I hope!
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| Pastel-Goth Transgrrrl. |
Monika: Looking back, how deeply did your transition reshape the way you perceive the world creatively, and how do you personally relate to the idea of being labeled a transgender artist?
Ellah: It changes everything, to be honest. It's like some parts of my brain I didn't know about are working now. It's like awakening when you think you're already awake.Everything's new and just like it was at the same time. And it has bad sides too. I'm more intuitive, but more impulsive too, and sometimes that's not better to mature things. I'm working on it. Since I've decided to transition, even if I was already in an "androgynous, agender" phase for some time, it opened up a gateway to creativity that I never thought I would have.
Monika: How do you ensure that being transgender informs your work without letting it define your entire artistic identity?
Ellah: I really can't define myself as a transgender artist. I consider myself as "a girl with a transgender path who is an artist". I mean, I can't let the fact that I'm trans lead my artistic life for the rest of my days. I prefer the idea that it will always appear like a filter, disturbing or lovely, depending on which side you are on, in all my work. That's where it will touch people. People get bored so easily. And there's a real problem in France with the theatricality of trans issues. So you need to be very clever in how you approach transition publicly.
Ellah: It changes everything, to be honest. It's like some parts of my brain I didn't know about are working now. It's like awakening when you think you're already awake.Everything's new and just like it was at the same time. And it has bad sides too. I'm more intuitive, but more impulsive too, and sometimes that's not better to mature things. I'm working on it. Since I've decided to transition, even if I was already in an "androgynous, agender" phase for some time, it opened up a gateway to creativity that I never thought I would have.
Monika: How do you ensure that being transgender informs your work without letting it define your entire artistic identity?
Ellah: I really can't define myself as a transgender artist. I consider myself as "a girl with a transgender path who is an artist". I mean, I can't let the fact that I'm trans lead my artistic life for the rest of my days. I prefer the idea that it will always appear like a filter, disturbing or lovely, depending on which side you are on, in all my work. That's where it will touch people. People get bored so easily. And there's a real problem in France with the theatricality of trans issues. So you need to be very clever in how you approach transition publicly.
Monika: In recent years, contemporary music has seen a growing visibility of transgender women artists, such as Mina Caputo of Life of Agony, Laura Jane Grace of Against Me!, Marissa Martinez of Cretin, Amber Taylor of The Sexual Side Effects, Namoli Brennet, Sissy Début, Jennifer Leitham, and many others. Do you feel this represents the emergence of a new musical movement, or simply a long-delayed visibility?
Ellah: Totally. I mean, the seventies and the eighties saw a lot of musicians and artists coming out as gay, right? The same thing is happening here. Some of them, like Laura Jane Grace, are very open about this, explaining to people what it's REALLY like to be trans. And she's doing it very, very well, with documentaries. People start to understand that it's not a shame, not a disease, or something to laugh at. Maybe they will start to really like it, ahah.
Monika: When you look at the French scene specifically, do you see other openly transgender bands or artists emerging around you?
Ellah: Not any I've heard of. There's a really productive queer scene in Paris, of course, but that's more like a really cool Rocky Horror Picture Show–esque scene for me than a real trans artist community. I mean, they're all trans-friendly, but not trans.
Ellah: Totally. I mean, the seventies and the eighties saw a lot of musicians and artists coming out as gay, right? The same thing is happening here. Some of them, like Laura Jane Grace, are very open about this, explaining to people what it's REALLY like to be trans. And she's doing it very, very well, with documentaries. People start to understand that it's not a shame, not a disease, or something to laugh at. Maybe they will start to really like it, ahah.
Monika: When you look at the French scene specifically, do you see other openly transgender bands or artists emerging around you?
Ellah: Not any I've heard of. There's a really productive queer scene in Paris, of course, but that's more like a really cool Rocky Horror Picture Show–esque scene for me than a real trans artist community. I mean, they're all trans-friendly, but not trans.
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| Rehearsals. |
Monika: Considering all of this, how would you describe the current reality for transgender women living in France?
Ellah: It's a NIGHTMARE. For trans people, access to hormones is easier, I mean, a little easier. Doctors are more aware of trans situations. That's all. The hard part is changing your IDs. It can take years. My IDs are going to court in March. It's been like two and a half years working with my lawyer just to have my document done. And it can take another year or two just to get an answer.
Monika: Could you explain the legal and bureaucratic obstacles involved in changing your documents?
Ellah: There's no law about trans people in France. They have something that says you need to have undergone Gender Reassignment Surgery, but the European Court says that hormone replacement therapy is enough to have your ID changed, and that other surgeries belong to your private life. So the court can't say "yes" and can't say "no". The judge may say "yes" if they are trans-friendly, "yes but you need surgery" if you haven't done any, which is not legal according to European rights, and then there are months of humiliating medical and psychiatric expertise. The judge can also say "no," losing your case, adding years to an administrative Kafkaesque nightmare. Even if you have undergone GRS, the whole process can last 5 or 6 years. Sometimes without it, it could take a year and a half... it only depends on the court, the judge, and your lawyer. It's a shame.
Monika: How do these challenges affect everyday life for trans people in France?
Ellah: A lot of trans people face suicidal thoughts going through that path, and I totally understand that; you're here telling people who didn't know you that you are "you," and they say "no, you are not you, you are someone else." That is so stressful, so strange. The reality is that looking for a job with the wrong ID is almost impossible. All administrative tasks are met with transphobic reactions. I've had years of panic attacks about this. I can't even go to the post office to receive a package; they won't give it to me, saying that I'm not the one on my ID card. "Ahah, yes, that's not me, so why can't we just change that f****** card?" you know.
Monika: And what about interactions with politicians or society at large? How does that complicate things further?
Ellah: French politicians claim that making ID changes difficult prevents the country from being overrun by lunatics or terrorists. They are the real terrorists, they're killing trans people who are ready to work for them, leaving us with a very difficult and lonely life. For non-trans people, life is easier. I've had some really beautiful reactions and feel protected by my close friends and by the people I work with every day. But I've also experienced many disappointments, even violence, and so many really, really WEIRD reactions that I'm totally suspicious every time I face someone I don't know. That is really exhausting. People in France are absolutely not educated about this.
Ellah: It's a NIGHTMARE. For trans people, access to hormones is easier, I mean, a little easier. Doctors are more aware of trans situations. That's all. The hard part is changing your IDs. It can take years. My IDs are going to court in March. It's been like two and a half years working with my lawyer just to have my document done. And it can take another year or two just to get an answer.
Monika: Could you explain the legal and bureaucratic obstacles involved in changing your documents?
Ellah: There's no law about trans people in France. They have something that says you need to have undergone Gender Reassignment Surgery, but the European Court says that hormone replacement therapy is enough to have your ID changed, and that other surgeries belong to your private life. So the court can't say "yes" and can't say "no". The judge may say "yes" if they are trans-friendly, "yes but you need surgery" if you haven't done any, which is not legal according to European rights, and then there are months of humiliating medical and psychiatric expertise. The judge can also say "no," losing your case, adding years to an administrative Kafkaesque nightmare. Even if you have undergone GRS, the whole process can last 5 or 6 years. Sometimes without it, it could take a year and a half... it only depends on the court, the judge, and your lawyer. It's a shame.
Monika: How do these challenges affect everyday life for trans people in France?
Ellah: A lot of trans people face suicidal thoughts going through that path, and I totally understand that; you're here telling people who didn't know you that you are "you," and they say "no, you are not you, you are someone else." That is so stressful, so strange. The reality is that looking for a job with the wrong ID is almost impossible. All administrative tasks are met with transphobic reactions. I've had years of panic attacks about this. I can't even go to the post office to receive a package; they won't give it to me, saying that I'm not the one on my ID card. "Ahah, yes, that's not me, so why can't we just change that f****** card?" you know.
Monika: And what about interactions with politicians or society at large? How does that complicate things further?
Ellah: French politicians claim that making ID changes difficult prevents the country from being overrun by lunatics or terrorists. They are the real terrorists, they're killing trans people who are ready to work for them, leaving us with a very difficult and lonely life. For non-trans people, life is easier. I've had some really beautiful reactions and feel protected by my close friends and by the people I work with every day. But I've also experienced many disappointments, even violence, and so many really, really WEIRD reactions that I'm totally suspicious every time I face someone I don't know. That is really exhausting. People in France are absolutely not educated about this.
Monika: During your transition, were there any transgender role models who inspired or guided you along the way?
Ellah: Yep. Two. A beautiful French girl, Amanda, she had a blog on YouTube and I cried watching her videos about her transitioning. I felt so close to her about everything. When she started hormones and when I saw the changes on her videos I knew that was my path.
Monika: And what about other trans role models outside France? Did anyone abroad influence your journey?
Ellah: And there's Isley, a girl who lives in LA, who had a videoblog too. She's beautiful and made her transition public with her own eye as a photographer, and that is truly interesting. That was the first time I was following a trans girl on the Internet and saying to myself, "wow, I love her clothes," "wow, she's a guitarist in a girl band," you know, everything was so intelligent and so cool about her.
Ellah: And there's Isley, a girl who lives in LA, who had a videoblog too. She's beautiful and made her transition public with her own eye as a photographer, and that is truly interesting. That was the first time I was following a trans girl on the Internet and saying to myself, "wow, I love her clothes," "wow, she's a guitarist in a girl band," you know, everything was so intelligent and so cool about her.
Monika: Reflecting on your journey, what would you say was the hardest part about coming out?
Ellah: Everything. For as long as I remember, I always knew I was a girl. But it takes different steps to put words on things. As a child, I didn't remember being anything, a boy or a girl, I mean. I was just reading books most of the time, really shy, with some friends but not that many. In the early '90s, kids were not that gendered, you know. I remember boys and girls dressed pretty much the same way. I would fall asleep at night sometimes wondering if I could wake up the next morning with a girl's body. And I was deeply sure that I would grow up as a girl, just like that. But nothing happened, ahah.
Monika: And how did high school make that struggle even more complicated for you?
Ellah: The hardest part came with high school. With boys, I was forced to perform in a way that I could not be "discovered" as I truly was, and I think I did that quite well. And with girls, I was like, "I am so much like you, everything like you, but I can't tell you." That was so frustrating. I mostly hid with drugs, legal and not legal, I was smoking hashish from early morning to late at night, and I ended high school with make-up, long black hair, and wearing my then-girlfriend's clothes every day. I think a lot of people thought this was only provocative. I was messed-up, end of the story.
Ellah: The hardest part came with high school. With boys, I was forced to perform in a way that I could not be "discovered" as I truly was, and I think I did that quite well. And with girls, I was like, "I am so much like you, everything like you, but I can't tell you." That was so frustrating. I mostly hid with drugs, legal and not legal, I was smoking hashish from early morning to late at night, and I ended high school with make-up, long black hair, and wearing my then-girlfriend's clothes every day. I think a lot of people thought this was only provocative. I was messed-up, end of the story.
END OF PART 1
All the photos: courtesy of Ellah A. Thaun.
© 2015 - Monika Kowalska
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