From uniform to stage, Yvard established himself during the July 14, 2025 parade as the "Marseillaise parade singer" that France will not forget. Behind this raspy voice, scarred by life, lies a man with an atypical journey, forged by pain and hope. How did a former elite gendarme, marked by war and injuries, manage to transform his pain into art? Moreover, how did he convert his fragility into stage strength? Here is the portrait of an unclassifiable artist, adored or criticized. His performance set the internet ablaze and shook the French musical and memorial landscape.
A unique journey, between service and resilience
On the Champs-Élysées, July 14, 2025, Yvard is much more than a voice. This Breton singer from Dordogne did not just sing the Marseillaise: he embodied the national anthem with rare intensity. David Thurisaz, his real name, was until then known only to a circle of insiders. However, that morning, his solemn face and rough voice commanded silence.
A former high-level athlete, Yvard first dreamed of joining the marine commandos. An admiral, detecting an extraordinary determination in him, directed him towards the elite gendarmerie. In 1997, he began a twenty-five-year commitment that took him to all fronts: Iraq, Guyana, the Antilles, Baghdad, New Caledonia. More than 200 high-risk interventions made him a figure of courage. He established himself as a pillar of solidarity in his squadron.
War leaves its marks. Two serious injuries, a fractured elbow during the Yellow Vests protests, a long illness, then the end of the uniform in 2018. "I entered this profession out of conviction, no longer being useful was terrible," he confided to Le Figaro. Thus begins a second life for him: music as therapy, the stage as a space for healing.
An art forged in trial
Yvard‘s art is rooted in injury. His hoarse voice is not feigned: it bears the scars of inner battles and missions abroad. It refuses purity, embraces the grain, and brings forth raw emotion. His vocal technique contrasts with the standards of variety: he plays with rupture, silences, and the breath that breaks. This sincerity moves or disturbs, but never leaves indifferent.
Yvard composes and writes, drawing from his memories of Iraq, New Caledonia, or Guyana. His songs, like Kalachnikov, Kanuméra, or On sera là, evoke absence, mourning, fraternity. Thus, each title becomes a story, a tribute to those who stand despite the pain. He readily cites his references: Jean-Jacques Goldman for humanism, Florent Pagny for the freedom to be oneself, Nicola Sirkis for the poetic and committed dimension.
The stage is his refuge. Since 2020, he has given about fifty concerts a year, often for charitable causes: Bleuet de France, charity concerts, meetings with young people in integration. "I sing for those who can no longer, for those whom war has broken," he tells the press.
The choice of costume and visual dramaturgy
For July 14, Yvard leaves nothing to chance. He enlists Romain Courret, a Dordogne couturier, for a revisited Napoleon jacket, black jeans, and crimson boots. This contrast catches the eye, expresses his rock identity and territorial roots. The outfit dialogues with the solemnity of the moment while affirming the artist’s uniqueness.
The stage, that day, is imbued with rare dramaturgy. Emmanuel Macron, Prabowo Subianto – the Indonesian president and guest of honor – the government, the entire political elite watches, suspended by Yvard‘s voice. Beside him, 35 choristers: Escadrilles Air Jeunesse, Petits Chanteurs de France, musicians from the marine troops, and choirs of the French Army. Eloïz, a singer and former volunteer gendarme, shares the microphone.
In the opening, he performs On sera là, an unreleased song by Jean-Jacques Goldman written for war wounded. In a few minutes, the title establishes itself as a new anthem of resilience. The rights donated to Bleuet de France testify to the artist’s commitment to memory. Moreover, they show his support for veterans.
Controversies and digital reception
The performance of the "Marseillaise parade singer" shakes the digital sphere. On X (formerly Twitter), dozens of messages fly: "The July 14 singer is abominable…", "We’ve lost all credibility there… I’m ashamed", "It’s torture for the ears, this singer". Many reject the stylistic break, the emotion too visible, or the scenography deemed too rock.
However, the criticisms do not break Yvard. Hardened by the harshness of the field, he has learned to face it. For him, the controversy reveals the power of art when it touches the sensitive. "The return to the joy of living is difficult. I fight every day, it’s energy-consuming," he says. His "broken" voice reflects this ongoing battle: it shocks, but it tells the truth of an experience. Thus, he joins the ranks of those artists whose fragility becomes strength.
A complex personality
Under the spotlight, Yvard retains a part of shadow. Those who have approached him describe a reserved man, attached to discretion. Moreover, he is haunted by the memory of his fallen brothers-in-arms. He avoids unnecessary spotlights, refuses compromises with the star system. "I will never be an idol. I want to remain authentic, speak to ordinary people," he asserts during a meeting in Périgueux.
His home-studio, nestled in the Périgord, is a place of retreat. There, he composes, records, and receives a few musician friends. He cultivates closeness with his audience, often made up of military families and former wounded. Moreover, he also attracts young people in search of guidance. He gives few interviews, preferring direct contact, sincere exchange. Thus, he perpetuates a tradition of committed song, where performance is never detached from meaning.
Commitment beyond music
Since his career change, Yvard has multiplied his charitable actions. He sings for Bleuet de France and conducts writing workshops with young people in difficulty. Moreover, he intervenes in schools to talk about trauma and reconstruction. He refuses the status of "hero", preferring that of an experience transmitter.
He also engages with veterans’ associations and participates in suicide prevention campaigns among the military. His music becomes a vector of hope and integration. "I want my voice to serve a purpose," he repeats. This altruistic dimension makes him a unique artist in the French landscape.
The so-called Marseillaise parade singer: a voice that divides, a symbol that imposes
Whether labeled as the "Marseillaise parade singer", a rocker with a broken voice, or a symbol of a France in reconstruction, Yvard leaves no one indifferent. His performance on July 14, 2025, despite the debates, marks a turning point. It highlights the invisible wounds of former soldiers and the importance of memory. Moreover, it shows the ability of art to unite around a personal and collective destiny.
On the Internet, his name now stands as the one who shook the Marseillaise. He is part of a French tradition where song is also a political and existential act.