With bleached hair and a clear, blue gaze, the young singer-songwriter, with her clear, silvery voice, was spotted last year with her debut EP La Romance.

Since then, she has gone through a year of uncertainty – the sort that we know will mark a turning point. From this year of transition, from this end to carefree days, she has produced six tracks, with irresistible melodies and soaring passages. Six songs that are both folk and rock, full of energy and saturated bursts, analogue synths and experimental textures. Six tracks composed primarily of guitar, Ronnie’s favourite instrument, which we find here, by turns shoegaze and delicate, alongside edgy instruments that fret, roar, and yet, in the end, seem to take us in their arms.

To write this new album, conceived as a work in progress, a continuous endeavour—in short, an attempt to do more and do better—Ronnie first worked in residence, far from Paris, alone with her guitars and notebooks, in a quiet house by a lake. She then surrounded herself with Kofi Bae, Marin Zannad and Lumio, who suggested arrangements for the demos, before perfecting the whole thing in the studio, in collaboration with producer Michael ‘Mitch’ Declerck (Fishbach, Voyou, Gaspard Augé…).

Another key collaboration for this EP: Safia Nolin, a leading figure on the Quebec indie scene, who shares with Ronnie the tender and melancholic single ‘Une minute encore’, which has already garnered significant attention, featuring on over 10 editorial playlists earlier this year.

For with the arrival of spring, Ronnie’s music blossoms and comes into its own.

His pop melodies twist and distort; his fragile yet controlled – and very precise – voice splits, becomes a chorus, and gains in scope.

His tracks still seem to follow in the wake of singers like Clairo or Pomme, but now the spectres of indie musicians such as DJO or Royel Otis – whom Ronnie readily acknowledges as major influences – also hover over his music.

It is twilight at the end of the day: a red light sweeping across a desolate childhood landscape. It is a possible ‘Elsewhere’, and Ronnie’s voice repeats it to us: “I don’t want to know what others are doing, I want to stay ‘Just a little longer’.”

Whilst the world looms menacingly, Ronnie’s tracks have, in this sense, been conceived as refuges, little houses where one can surrender to living, places where one can still allow oneself to be honest, to change, to ‘waste time’ (“watching people go by, talking about others, wasting time…”), and then to take the risk of loving another and believing in it – daring, once again, to believe in love (“I haven’t understood it all, but what I do know is that I want to carry on”, she sings in ‘Juno’).

Let’s try, let’s wait, let’s give ourselves over to living, Ronnie seems to be telling us through her songs, which are both vulnerable and powerful.

We may be on borrowed time, but music revives us and momentarily comforts us, so let’s listen to it, just for one more minute, when everything is falling apart around us.