If you’re going to make a record about rhythm, melody, and the pulse of life itself, why not do it in a monastery? That’s exactly where Camille Dalmais found herself, tucked away in the south of France, in an old religious village-turned-artists’ retreat. “It’s a place full of light, full of life, full of mystery,” she says, as if describing the music itself. A Parisian at heart, she felt the need to escape the city and immerse herself in a space where she could strip things down—no drum kits, no hi-hats, just the raw, organic sound of a shaman drum, a heartbeat, a pulse. “Pop is almost an alibi for me,” she says. “It’s just a way to create something that is my world.”
That world is built on a love of rhythm in its most fluid, unpredictable form. Camille isn’t interested in the squared-off, binary structure of most pop music. Instead, she leans into circular rhythms, uneven pulses—things that feel alive, feminine, unpredictable. “I wanted to work with a drum that evolves, that breathes,” she explains. “It’s about linking melody and movement, voice and pulse.” For someone who has never been content to simply sing a song, it makes perfect sense.
For Camille, language itself is another playground. She twists phrases, reinvents meanings, and shapes syllables like sculpting clay. Even the title of her first single, Fontaine de Lait (which translates to Fountain of Milk), reflects that playfulness. “Language is an invitation to reinvent,” she insists. “It’s all made up anyway—why not keep making it up?” That philosophy extends to the way she sings, too. Her voice moves between rhythmic precision and airy, reverb-drenched choir-like harmonies. The result is something that feels both ancient and futuristic at the same time, much like the monastery where it was created.
One of the album’s few English-language tracks, Seeds, takes a deceptively simple metaphor and stretches it into something much bigger. “Nature is generous,” she says. “But some people try to control it, industrialize it, make it weaker. If you work with life, life happens.” The song, like the album itself, is about balance—between precision and instinct, structure and spontaneity. And though Camille is more interested in evoking a feeling than explaining meaning, she knows that music should always remain open-ended. “A song should let people interpret it their own way,” she says. “I don’t like writing something that only has one meaning.”
Whether it’s rhythm, melody, language, or nature itself, Camille doesn’t just accept the world as it is—she reinvents it. And in doing so, she invites listeners to do the same.
Listen to the interview above and then check out "Seeds" below!
