Chalumeau, the eclectic pop/rock duo formed by former Connecticut College president Katherine Bergeron and Brown Professor Butch Rovan, is a project that seems determined to turn controversy into performance art. Their debut single, “No Common Ground,” dropped on October 31, 2024, and quickly drew attention, not just for its genre-blurring sound but for the heavy baggage Bergeron brings as the former president of Connecticut College. Chalumeau reads as an attempt to rewrite Bergeron’s narrative through pop-rock, but the effort falls flat, weighed down by clumsy lyrics, uninspired rhymes, and a tone that oscillates between defensive bitterness and forced profundity. The debut single, “No Common Ground,” and its follow-up, “Lies,” are less artistic statements and more public grievances poorly disguised as songs.
Beneath the surface of musical exploration, the shadow of Bergeron’s past is never far away.The lyrics to ‘No Common Ground’ serve less as a call for unity and more as a pointed response to the campus unrest that led to her resignation. Lines like “Everybody is angry, everyone’s stressed, it’s an Olympics of the oppressed,” and “the thing you really want to do is shame, find a scapegoat to take your blame or to cancel, better yet, it’s expedient,” feel like direct retorts to the student protests and faculty votes of no confidence that rocked Connecticut College in 2023. That year, Bergeron’s decision to hold a fundraising event at the Everglades Club, a venue infamous for its racist and antisemitic history, sparked outrage, culminating in the resignation of the college’s Dean of Institutional Equity and Inclusion and a campus-wide sit-in.
Bergeron’s rhymes often lack subtlety or sophistication. In “Lies,” she pairs “inequity” with “equity,” a rhyme so obvious it borders on lazy, undermining the song’s ostensible critique of hypocrisy. The chorus, “Ruin someone else so you’re not busted,” is blunt and lacks nuance, turning complex social dynamics into a simplistic blame game. The lyric videos, poorly edited and amateurish, do little to elevate the material, instead reinforcing the sense of a hastily assembled project more focused on airing grievances than crafting art.
Bergeron claims to speak for the “collective need for human connection,” but the tone in her lyrics is more combative than conciliatory, with references to “goodbye letters” and shifting blame that seem to nod directly to the resignation of the DEI dean and the broader campus fallout. The line, “How can a master of inequity stand for peace and justice and equity?” feels like a pointed jab at the college administration’s failure to address systemic issues; ironically highlighting Bergeron’s own role in perpetuating inequities during her tenure.
“No Common Ground” reads like a thinly veiled response to this chapter, with lines accusing “the woke” of cancel culture and scapegoating. Yet, rather than offering insight or reconciliation, the lyrics come across as defensive and resentful, failing to grapple meaningfully with the criticisms that led to her ouster. The repeated references to blame-shifting and “truth” feel less like genuine reflection and more like an attempt to rewrite history on her own terms.
What makes Chalumeau’s work particularly frustrating is the gap between Bergeron’s apparent intent and the actual impact of her music. The project seems designed to reclaim her voice and narrative, yet the execution undermines this goal. The lyrics’ awkward phrasing and simplistic rhymes betray a lack of artistic maturity, suggesting that personal grievance alone cannot substitute for genuine songwriting skill. Moreover, the repeated references to “cancel culture” and “wokeness” come across less as insightful social commentary and more as a defensive posture, which risks alienating the very audience she might hope to engage. This disconnect mirrors the very leadership failures that led to her downfall at Connecticut College: a failure to listen, to empathize, and to build bridges. Chalumeau’s music, then, becomes a sonic echo of Bergeron’s tragic tenure—marked by missed opportunities for connection and an inability to move beyond conflict.
The tragedy of Bergeron’s career is reflected in the music’s tone; a mixture of wounded pride and denial. Instead of demonstrating growth or understanding, Chalumeau’s songs echo the same patterns of alienation and conflict that marked her tenure. The project’s eclectic musical style, blending ballads, blues, and electronica, cannot mask the fundamental weakness of its core: lyrics that are unpolished, unoriginal, and ultimately unconvincing.
In trying to find “common ground,” Bergeron’s music instead highlights the gulf between her intentions and her execution. The songs are a reminder that artistic expression requires more than personal grievance; it demands craft, insight, and humility—qualities that Chalumeau’s debut regrettably lacks. The result is a project that neither redeems nor rehabilitates but rather deepens the tragic disconnect between Bergeron and the community she once led.
The project’s upcoming album, “Blue,” set to be celebrated at The Met in Rhode Island on August 7, 2025, will be Bergeron’s next opportunity to prove whether she has truly moved on from the events that unfolded at Connecticut College or if Chalumeau will remain a monument to a career marked by controversy and unresolved conflict. Given the shaky foundation laid by these early singles, however, skepticism remains high that this musical endeavor will offer anything more than another chapter of alienation cloaked in genre-defying sound.
