Le Fil
The Age
Friday September 22, 2006
CD REVIEW: Le Fil, Camille (Virgin/ EMI) ****
There's some debate about the keynote of the universe. The ancient Chinese had the tone of the Earth pegged at F-sharp, a frequency some New Age folks still consider significant to enlightenment. In 2003, NASA's Chandra X-ray Observatory discovered a black hole emitting a B-flat drone deep enough to blow every subwoofer in the cosmos. Down here, most countries are humming with 50Hz of AC current, which translates to a suitably imperfect pitch between a low G and A-flat. For reasons perhaps best known to her singing teacher, French vocal artist Camille Dalmais has gone with B as "le fil" (the thread) of her second album. The mid-range hum stays constant through all 18 tunes, disappearing under layers of voice and sparse instrumentation, then re-emerging where the silent bit between tracks should be. The effect is suitably cosmic. Like, dude! All these songs came from one note? Awesome. In the layered a capella style popularised by Zap Mama, Bobby McFerrin and Bjork's Medulla album, they're built primarily from Camille's extraordinary voice, an instrument that ranges from guttural grunts to Kate Bush-only-knows how many octaves of precision pitch. Sometimes looped into a kind of tuned vocal percussion, sometimes stacked in warm choral arrangements, her various vocal techniques are stunning in themselves. Her staccato "ahs" skate like organ keys under Jeune Fille aux Cheveux Blancs; she farts and hiccups the percussive gospel groove of Ta Douleur; the Latino-hip-hop feel of J'ai Tort rides on a spittle-flecked raft of clicks and pops. But Camille is just as compelling when she turns off the acrobatics for the simple, sensitive chanson: Pale Septembre and Pour Que L'Amour Me Quitte ooze the melancholy continental charm that's made Francoiz Breut such a popular tourist here of late. With respect to her, there's far more to discover in Camille's parallel universe. -- MICHAEL DWYER
© 2006 The Age