Week 123: “Pour Que L’Amour Me Quitte” by Camille

Camille is strange.

But it’s a good strange. It’s the kind of strange that draws you in against your better judgment. Like the lure of a hole in a fence around a construction site. Or the pull of a person who, according to your friends, is no good for you.

As a singer, Camille sounds alternately like Bjork, Coeur De Pirate, Sarah Slean, Bobby McFerrin, and occasionally an angry pterodactyl. And I mean that in the best possible way; she uses her voice in such a variety of ways that there’s something in her work for everyone. This song features her “soft and friendly” voice, which is nice for people like me, who shy away from angry pterodactyl music.

What makes this a beautiful song:

1. The sustained note. If you listen closely, you can hear her voice holding a B throughout the whole track. And if B is your favourite note, you’re in luck: the note is held for the entirety of “Le Fil”, the album that this song comes from.

2. The arpeggios. They’re the only thing dictating the song’s tempo or chord structure, and the way they dance around the sustained B is lovely.

3. The ambiguous meaning. Most internet translations/interpretations suggest that the song is about letting go of love, but whether she’s singing from the wreckage of an ended relationship or the death of a loved one remains unclear.

Recommended listening activity:

Putting new laces in an old pair of shoes.

Buy it here.