"Les Sac des Filles" is the debut studio album by French singer-songwriter Camille, released on September 24, 2002.
"Le Fil" is the second album by French singer Camille. The title translates as "The Thread". The album features a "tone", a low-level drone that is in the background of every song, which Camille has described as 'her note'. The note is a B. The singer also mentioned that many people returned the record, thinking this sound was a fault with the recording. The title also arises due to the similar word "fille" or girl which arises in a lot of the songs.
Camille and her enthusiastic supporters in the French musical press may be tired of the Björk comparison but, frankly, it is impossible to imagine a record such as Music Hole without the trailblazing work of the tiny Icelandic wonder. Time has abundantly proven than Björk's conception of pop music was a lot more than quirky novelty. Her boundless imagination, particularly in the mixing of organic and inorganic sounds and in the liberation of the human voice as a creative tool (rather than as a lyric broadcaster, or even as a singer), has provided the seeds for some of the most interesting – or at the very least idiosyncratic – acts to emerge in recent years. And this is a truly global influence, one that seems particularly attuned to independent spirits the world over, many of multi-ethnic origins: Bat for Lashes, Animal Collective, Panda Bear, Stina Nordenstam, Emiliana Torrini, Cocorosie, Juana Molina, and of course, Camille. Compared to Molina's much acclaimed Un Día, Camille's project of the same year Music Hole is less hypnotic, but certainly more fun.
In recent months, singer Camille spent a lot of time in the cell. Cell I, located between the large cloister and the garden of scents, in the hidden heart of the Chartreuse of Villeneuve-lès-Avignon. It is a former monastery of the 14th century, converted into a cultural center and residence of artists. This is where Camille imagined and hatched Ouï, her fifth studio album.
Saint-Saens’s Etudes offer an intricate and scintillating panoply of the French school of technique (the basis and prophecy of what Jean-Philippe Collard so mischievously called Marguerite Long’s ‘diggy-diggy-dee’ school of piano playing). Yet as Piers Lane tells us in his alternately wry and delightful accompanying essay (obligatory reading for all lovers of French pianism), they can be as evocative (‘Les cloches de las Palmas’) as they are finger-twisting (‘En forme de valse’, to name but one). The left-hand Etudes, too, given their self-imposed limitation, are a fragile and poetic surprise. In other words Saint-Saens’s Etudes are more comprehensive than their equivalents by, say, Moszkowski or Lazare Levey (superbly recorded by Ilana Vered on Connoisseur Society and Danielle Laval on French EMI, respectively – neither issued in the UK).