Part 2

For Camaïeu, what kind of emotions were you looking to get across?

Sylvie: On this album we worked with very personal lyrics and a lot of metaphors, touching on themes like an impulse toward action (“Bullet”), the role of connection and friendship in our lives (“Tied”), and how to deal with big existential questions as an artist (“Rilke’s Letter,” including an adaptation of “Letters to a Young Poet” by Rainer Maria Rilke).



Across many of the songs there is a softness and a kind of retrospective and introspective quality, but at times also a sense of powerlessness in more driven songs. We deliberately chose a very minimal, pure instrumentation, which leaves a lot of space for emotion to come through. In that space, listeners are able to feel for themselves what the songs evoke in them.

We also wanted the warmth that lives in both of our main instruments (the double bass and the voice) to almost wrap people in a kind of warm blanket.

How do you capture the emotions you want to get across in the studio?

Sylvie: (in line with my earlier answer 😊) With Matthias Kohler, we really worked on the internal state you need to be in during recording.

That meant, for example, actively searching within yourself, having conversations about the songs, and creating the calm needed to get to the core of certain sections. In the studio, it’s less about trying to “perform” emotion, and more about allowing it to be present in the take itself.

Christoph: Also here, I completely agree.

What role do factors like volume, effects like distortion, amplification, and production in general for in terms of creating the emotions, energies or impressions you want?

Sylvie: In the studio, it’s very helpful to be able to overdub, which allows us to either thicken certain parts or create more space through layering.

We also recorded all instruments acoustically, which wouldn’t be possible in a live setting because it would require far too much equipment. That approach results in a more honest, direct sound, which in turn can carry emotion more clearly.

When the music calls for it, we also use production tools quite intentionally. For example, on “Tales” we added distortion to the vocals to reflect the messages on social media, which immediately enhances the theatrical effect.



On "Behind," we used a slapback delay on the voice, which brings the gospel element more to the surface.



These production choices don’t just shape the sound but they also influence my performance. They often inspire me to exaggerate or lean further into certain vocal qualities, which then feeds back into the emotion of the music as a whole.

Christoph: For me, too, the ability to record overdubs is central.

The arco passages on the double bass in "I Repeat" and "Rilke's Letter" – both ideas suggested by Matthias Kohler – support and deepen the character of those compositions considerably.



A further factor is the spatial shaping during the mix: every element can be positioned accordingly, and in the Dolby Atmos version even in three dimensions, which supports and extends the emotional depth of the music.

In terms of emotions, what changes when you're performing live on stage, with an audience present, compared to the recording stage?

Christoph: When I'm performing live and I can feel the audience, a kind of emotional feedback loop is created, which is wonderful and extremely motivating. Depending on the situation, I can sense it from individual people in the room or from the audience as a whole.

That said, I can't allow myself to become dependent on it, since it isn't always present or consistently accessible – for instance, when the room is too dark or too restless, when the acoustic conditions are difficult, or when something else distracts me. Or, as happened recently in the middle of a concert, when the power on stage cuts out entirely.

Sylvie: I really love being on stage, and I can actually feel it as a very safe space to express emotions through music. There is a different version of me on stage, the performer version, where it’s all about sharing the story and living in the moment.

For me, it’s always more of a challenge to find that same energy in the studio, because there you’re creating something you want to still stand behind ten years from now. That creates a certain pressure that I always have to find a way to work with.

We also discussed this a lot with the team. Having enough time in the studio is essential. Nothing feels more counter to emotion than knowing you only have a few hours left and still need to record several songs.

How does the presence of the audience and your interaction with it change the emotional impact of the music and how would you describe the creative interaction with listeners during a gig?

Sylvie: The presence of an audience adds a layer of adrenaline, simply because it is live, and that makes everything feel more intense. That intensity allows for a deeper kind of openness: the emotions feel more real, more immediate. The way people look, the trip they make with you, their verbal reactions, or sometimes even a quiet sigh at the end of a slow song are incredibly valuable.

They reveal the essence of why we do what we do: sharing a moment together.

What kind of feedback have you received from listeners or concert audiences in terms of the experience that your music and/or performances have had on them?

Sylvie: People often say they feel very much moved, or as if they’ve been cared for in some way.

Some describe it as turning inward, becoming more connected to themselves. Others talk about it as a kind of journey, as if they’ve travelled somewhere emotionally during the concert or while listening to the music.

Would you say that you prefer to stay in control to be able to shape the emotions or do you surrender to them and allow the music to take over? Who, ultimately has control during a live performance?

Sylvie: That’s always a tricky balance for the voice.

There have definitely been moments where a song was so emotionally charged that I was almost brought to tears myself. But in that case, my voice would break. So I fully allow the emotion to be present, but I can’t let it completely take over my instrument. I still need a certain level of control over the voice.

I now think of the iconic performances of Jacques Brel: the way he draws you into his emotions is incredible, almost overwhelming. But at the same time, he remains a performer.

The emotions that music is able to generate can be extremely powerful. How, do you think, can artists make use of this power to bring about change in the world?

Sylvie: It’s a difficult question in a very concrete sense. There are certainly moments these days when things are happening in the world that make me feel a need to call for change. At the same time, I don’t always know how to do that in a concrete way without sounding preachy or moralizing.

What I keep coming back to is the idea that music is most powerful when it creates a feeling of safety, recognition, and connection. If people feel “held” or cherished, when they recognize something of themselves in a song, or feel part of a shared emotional space, that can lower defenses in a way that direct argument often cannot.

From there, even a small shift becomes possible. Not necessarily a dramatic ideological change, but a subtle one: more openness toward others, more empathy, a slightly wider sense of “we.” In that sense, music doesn’t have to force a message to be politically or socially meaningful. The change can happen indirectly, through atmosphere and emotional resonance.

So maybe the role of artists is less about instructing people what to think, and more about creating moments where people feel connected enough, to themselves, to others, to something larger. That a small positive change can quietly take root.

Christoph: I agree, and I think that music which is not explicitly political can nonetheless contribute to a sense of "we" – precisely because it speaks to people across political divides.

At a concert, people with very different political views can share the same experience, and in the best case, perceive through that something they have in common, a connection with one another.