Chéri Chéri, a Paris-based band, presents their debut EP, Don’t You Think It’s Funny. This classic rock record exudes the energetic confidence of a young group eager to impress. With six concise tracks, it explores a character caught between performance and collapse, using bravado as both a weapon and a shield to hide underlying insecurities.

The EP functions more as a character study than a typical collection of songs. The protagonist navigates themes of desire, heartbreak, dissociation, and self-reflection, revealing deeper layers with each track. Its appeal lies not in its polish—some production choices are rough—but in its sincerity, as it embraces life’s messiness as a form of truth.

And that is what I love about it.

It’s a tight, visceral statement — emotionally volatile, stylistically confident, and quietly devastating.

Identity and influence

Even before hearing a note, you can feel the EP leaning into contradictions. The title, alone, Don’t You Think It’s Funny, is a deadpan provocation — is it sarcastic? Bitter? Genuinely amused? That ambiguity permeates the music.

There are echoes of Led Zeppelin, the early Yeah Yeah Yeahs, a hint of Placebo’s baroque self-pity, and even glimmers of Ziggy-era Bowie — but what defines this band most is a tone: anxious, sensual, doomed, and just theatrical enough to stay stylish in its sadness. The EP also carries shades of Joan Jett’s raw, rebellious rock energy — not as a direct imitation, but as a spiritual echo of her blend of attitude, vulnerability, and punk grit. Gordon Raphael of early Strokes fame did the handiwork on the production side.

The Allure of the First Crack

The opener, “Creepy Girl,” sets the emotional stakes by exploring the discomfort of attraction and how desire can warp perception. The lyric “She’s so unaware… And then she took me to the city, where we sang a little ditty. But she makes me feel so shitty. Creepy girl.” captures this tension.

Chéri Chéri understands that rock music isn’t just about the shine; it’s also about the unstable energy beneath it. Here, desire is disorienting rather than flattering, leaving the protagonist feeling off balance. This emotional imbalance establishes the EP’s tone, signaling the loss of control.

A Cry for Attention That Isn’t Performed — It’s Lived

With its fairytale title and expansive storytelling, “The Broken Hearted Boy Who Cried Wolf” stands out as the most narratively ambitious track on the EP. It draws inspiration from the classic fable about not being believed, reinterpreting it as a metaphor for emotional collapse. Is the boy truly in pain, or is he pretending to seek attention? Regardless of the truth, no one responds when he finally reaches his breaking point.

The Drift: Dissociation as a Mood and a Landscape

The EP reaches its softest emotional moment with “Rainy Haze,” which captures the fog of feelings after heartbreak. Unlike the earlier bitter or explosive tracks, this one drifts and emphasizes atmosphere over narrative, evoking a sense of uncertainty and malaise.

As the emotional core of the EP, it introduces introspection—revealing vulnerability without confession. For a band early in their career, this subtle emotional shift is impressive.

The Hollow Rush of Contact Without Connection

“One Night Stand” captures the morning after an emotional haze. Unlike “Rainy Haze,” which conveys drifting, this track brings you crashing back to reality with an unfiltered rawness, starting with the line, “Well, f**k.” It reflects on fleeting connections that feel great for a moment but leave you feeling terrible for days. The lyric, “Look for my socks and for my dignity,” showcases Chéri Chéri’s knack for blending emotional honesty with tragicomedy.

The Mask Turns Menacing

If there’s an outlier on the EP, it might be this track — a sharp turn outward. While most of the EP deals with emotional pain and personal collapse, “Sex Money Power” zooms out to societal vice. It plays like a punk satire: loud, gaudy, and cynical.

The Quiet Collapse at the Center

The EP concludes with “Worthless,” its emotional core that strips away pretense. Instead of ending with the flashy irony of “Sex Money Power,” the band lays bare their vulnerability, expressing feelings of emptiness and lack of value.

Ending on such a somber note is a brave choice for a debut. While many new bands aim for a strong finish, Chéri Chéri opts for a whisper that reveals a long-avoided truth. The EP begins with tension and broken narratives, ultimately dissolving into fog, regret, and collapse.

This bold progression makes for a compelling debut.

A Portrait of a Persona Falling Apart

What makes Don’t You Think It’s Funny compelling is the band’s embrace of imperfection, emotional volatility, and vulnerability. This EP explores the theme of a mask cracking—a confident façade that crumbles in private, reflecting the tension between wanting to be seen and fearing true intimacy.

Across six tracks, Chéri Chéri journeys from bravado to breakdown, creating a coherent and insightful narrative for a debut. They present themselves not just as a stylish band but as emotional stylists, artfully depicting heartache.

By the end of “Worthless,” you won’t feel like laughing; instead, you’ll sit in quiet reflection, experiencing a little hurt, but feeling truly understood.

Rating: 8.5/10

Chris Garrod, December 3, 2025

Stream/Download it: https://artists.landr.com/057829876644