The two French men behind Justice have trashed hotel rooms, won Grammys and made an opera without an audience. Now they're playing at the O Days Festival -- and I still hope someone shouts “We Are Your Friends,” even though it was 20 years ago that was cool.
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Disclaimer: Apropos Magazine received access or a review copy. As always, we share our own impressions — unfiltered.
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Then † (pronounced “Cross”) came out in 2007, it wasn't just an album -- it was an event. Two French guys with death stars in their eyes and the cross as a logo knocked so much bass into club culture you'd think they'd topple the Vatican. “Genesis,” “Stress,” “Waters of Nazareth” -- it sounded like a breakdown in an electric cathedral. And then there was “D.A.N.C.E.,” a pop number disguised as hommage to Michael Jackson, with children's choirs and colorful visuals as a contrast to all that darkness. It shouldn't work -- but it did.
Justice emerged from Ed Banger Records' glittering grotto of French electro alongside Kavinsky, Uffie and Busy P, and they looked like someone who would both score your girlfriend and smash your establishment. And that is precisely what they did.
But how many remember how far they went to perpetuate that mythology?
In the tour documentary A Cross the Universe (2008) it goes from crazy to semi-criminal. They impulsively marry in Las Vegas, trashing hotel rooms, and on a Los Angeles sidewalk curb, Xavier smashes a bottle of Havana Club into the head of a fan who had allegedly stalked them all the way across the United States. Police called it self-defense. The internet called it legendary. Justice himself didn't say much -- they just stood there in the dark, letting the light of the cross speak.
After † they could have easily milked the same distortion for ten years, but luckily they chose something different.
Audio, Video, Disco (2011) was their musical “I've got my own garden and now eat organic” phase. There were guitar riffs, progrock surfaces and an ambition to sound like something you heard in 1976 -- if you were stoned enough. Some fans missed the smash, but there was still something weirdly irresistible about it all. It was Justice on unemployment benefits. Sunshine. Vintage synths. Light confusion.
Vrouw (2016) took it even further. Here they stepped straight into a pastel-tinged '70s softporno, complete with gospel choir, strings and something reminiscent of funk if you squinted hard enough. “Safe and Sound” sounded like Daft Punk on ayahuasca, and the whole album oozed with a kind of kitschet self-confidence. It was weird, delicious and almost touching. Not because it was deep. But because it dared to be superficial in a magnificent way.
And this is probably where you really understood that Justice didn't just make music. They made pictures. Visions. Experiences.
That was emphasized with the concert film Iris: A Space Opera by Justice (2019), recorded without an audience. Why? Because it wasn't supposed to be a party. It was supposed to be a work. It's an opera. A total installation of light, sound and cross that one could only wish was played on Louisiana instead of Vega.
And then it became quiet.
EDM died of self-obesity, TikTok took over the world's sound aesthetic, and Justice went haywire. Until 2024, when they returned with Hyperdrama — an album that sounded like it was mixed in a spaceship but written in a vintage sports car. They had Kevin Parker of Tame Impala featured on “Neverender”, and the song won a Grammy. Because of course it did. Justice doesn't make comebacks. They make entrances.
But what are they today?
Are they still relevant? Are they still dangerous? Or have they just become old Frenchmen with expensive gear and a PR team?
The answer is simple: Yes. They are still relevant. And that's because of one thing -- their live concerts. Justice live is not just a concert. It's a condition. An exorcism of bass and lights. They stand there -- completely still, completely cool, with leather jackets and the eternal glow of the cross -- and then the whole thing explodes. “Genesis”, “Stress”, “On'n'On”, and then a few new tracks from Hyperdramathat sounds like Justice on microdosing.
And now they come to Denmark.
For O Days Festival 2025, as the headliner. It is their first Danish performance in a human age, and the only show in Scandinavia. It's a bit like getting Daft Punk to Vordingborg. It's not happening. But it happens.
The rusty industrial landscape of Refshaleo Island, combined with the cold glow of the cross and the “Waters of Nazareth” pumped out over a sun-roasted audience? It sounds like something we should all be in the middle of, because it's not just about nostalgia. It's about feeling that something can still be bigger than us. That club music can be cheesy, raucous, pathetic and magnificent all at once. And we need that in 2025.
Afterthought:
It's been almost 20 years since “We Are Your Friends.” And it's still hard to tell if it was a joke, a manifesto or just a remix that got too big. But if the audience -- amid all the lights and bass and visuals -- still bothers to shout it one more time in unison, then something in me wants to believe that Justice is still doing exactly what they've always done best:
Ignites modern man's yearning for meaning.
With a beat. And a cross.
