Name: Audrey Carmes
Nationality: French
Occupation: Composer, sound artist, vocalist, producer
Current release: Audrey Carmes's Quelque chose s'est dissipé is out via Métron.
Recommendations: Yoko Ono, Grapefruit (book); Peter Fischli and David Weiss, The Point of Least Resistance (art film)

If you enjoyed this Audrey Carmes interview and would like to stay up to date with her music, visit her on Instagram.



When I listen to music, I see shapes, objects and colours. What happens in your body when you're listening? Do you listen with your eyes open or closed?

I have a rather visual perception of music too, I perceive it in movement: each sound is a gush, I see organic forms in motion, a bit like ink spots that appear and disappear on a wet screen. For that, no need to have eyes closed. And what I'm looking at becomes like directed by the music I'm listening too.

Then there are other very physical things that happen. For example, I can stay awake all night just listening to lively music; I can be exhausted very quickly listening to a concert where the sound is too loud; some music can really soothe me and give me the feeling of being cleansed.

I can never fall asleep listening to music, even quiet music. It's drawing too much of my attention.

What were your very first steps in music like and how would you rate the gains made through experience - can one train/learn being an artist?

Even though I learnt some of the basics when I was younger, a first real step in my desire to experiment with music creation was perhaps when I was a teenager, when I picked up a guitar that was lying around my parents' house and, without knowing how to play it conventionally, I tried out its sound potential (tapping, pulling, rubbing the strings, etc).

But I have the impression that it takes time to get it right, to understand and achieve what you're looking for, so that experimentation isn't just wandering.

And it's not just a question of technique, although that's often important. In my opinion, it's largely a question of education and sensitising our ears, so that our tastes guide our desires.

According to scientific studies, we make our deepest and most incisive musical experiences between the ages of 13-16. What did music mean to you at that age and what’s changed since then?

At that age, I think I was really looking for intense emotions to come out of listening to music.

That hasn't changed too much, but maybe the emotions I'm looking for are more balanced and varied now!

What, would you say, are the key ideas behind your approach to music and what motivates you to create?

It's an extension of the previous question: I think I'm trying to bring emotions, and above all emotions that heal. I tell myself that if I'm going to make music, I might as well do it to make myself feel better. And for me, feeling better means finding a balance between melancholy, peace and longing. So I try to offer that to others.

I also try to offer a space-time where the speed of the world slows down, where you can go and draw energy from it before returning to the urgency that life can demand.

To quote a question by the great Bruce Duffie: When you come up with a musical idea, have you created the idea or have you discovered the idea?

Often it's about discovery, catching things in flight.

I loved hearing that John Cage was a very good mycologist and mushroom picker, and that he enjoyed comparing mushroom picking to the act of creation. As someone who relied heavily on chance operations to compose, he sees mushroom picking as an exercise similar to creation: it's almost never in the hope of coming across a mushroom that you come across one, it's more often by surprise that you stumble across it.

In art as much as in picking, rather than trying to find something with a preconceived idea, you have to cultivate your attention to what arises in order to welcome it. I feel close to this idea.

"When we find mushrooms in perfect condition, we experience a musical pleasure (not the pleasure of being able to measure up: I'm talking about the pleasure of coincidence)." (John Cage, The Mushroom Book)

Paul Simon said “the way that I listen to my own records is not for the chords or the lyrics - my first impression is of the overall sound.” What's your own take on that and how would you define your personal sound?

I think I do what he does, I listen not in an analytical way but in a sensory way.

To try to define the overall impression of my sound, I would just say soft, warm, ethereal.

Sound, song, and rhythm are all around us, from animal noises to the waves of the ocean. What, if any, are some of the most moving experiences you've had with these non-human-made sounds? In how far would you describe them as “musical”?

One of my most beautiful memories was of midwife toads (alytes obstetricans) in Ardèche (south-east France).

One night, I approached a river lit only by the moon and heard these little sounds ("tweet tweet", a sound similar to certain birds, almost electronic, which I recommend you listen to) emerging all around me. I was told afterwards that it was coming from the toads - I was really surprised!

So I was surrounded by those midwife toads who were exchanging and echoing with each other. It was like being in an accousmonium, it was very musical: the sound was spatialised, the rhythm was constantly changing, and there were variations in the notes and timbre of their warblings.

Perhaps it was because I was already sensitive to electronic music that I liked the quality of these sounds. The piece played by the toads reminded me of “Cloud Hands” by Charles Cohen, who composes with a semi-modular synthesiser.



It's funny because musician Flavien Berger incorporated recordings of these toads into a track on his latest album. We had the same musical experience when we met them!



It makes me think of Jean des Esseintes, the protagonist of Huysmans's novel À Rebours, a sickly aesthete who likes to surround himself with natural flowers that look artificial. Perhaps we experience musical pleasure in the sounds around us because we already have an affinity for certain types of sound and music, in my case for synthesised sounds.

For example, since I've become interested in drones, I've become very sensitive to the spontaneous drones that are constantly being heard on trains and metros ... the way I listen to them is becoming very musical.

From very deep/high/loud/quiet sounds to very long/short/simple/complex compositions - are there extremes in music you feel drawn to and what response do they elicit?

I like when certain opposites act within a track. Perhaps what touches me the most is when it goes from density to emptiness: when sounds that are very close together suddenly move apart. I find it gives you the sensation of freeing yourself from something, of becoming lighter.

Then I also like the opposite path, when the emptiness becomes denser again and you have the sensation of finding a body again, of being anchored. It's a breathing movement that's moving.

Could you describe your creative process on the basis of one of your pieces, live performances or albums that's particularly dear to you, please?

On several tracks on my album Quelque chose s'est dissipé, particularly "Une recherche", I superimposed numerous melodic lines, as if I were painting an oil painting, slowly, with a multitude of layers.

As the layers are superimposed, there's a game I like to play, that sometimes happens on its own: I have the impression of hearing a 'phantom' melody that isn't written but only induced by all the interweaving of melodies. It's like an auditory hallucination that I transcribe with an instrument. And then this melody seems so right because it has been blown by all the others.

Do you conduct “experiments” or make use of scientific insights when you're making music?

Not too much at the moment, but I've got some ideas. I'd like to know more about frequencies and how they resonate with our bodies, from a healing perspective (we're on the borderline between New Age and science, but I'm curious!).

I have the feeling that I'm doing it intuitively and I'm waiting to see if I can't be guided by some sciences, which are certainly experimental.

How does the way you make music reflect the way you live your life? Can we learn lessons about life by understanding music on a deeper level?

I guess I'm a contemplative person who likes to take things slowly. In music I've found a way of living this contemplative life so that it can be creative. Taking time in the musical process, going over and over each fragment allows me to create forms that I find richer. I like to reach a certain intensity and depth, but through peaceful, quiet movements.

I have the impression that this applies to everything in life. Not just being in a hurry but taking the time to look at each fragment to the point of plunging into it can maybe offer a richer and even new view of existence.

Do you feel as though writing or performing a piece of music is inherently different from something like making a great cup of coffee? What do you express through music that you couldn't or wouldn't in more 'mundane' tasks?

Even though it's always tempting to want to remove the boundaries between art and everyday life, I've come to realise that making music is a powerful channel for going elsewhere, towards a mysterious form of transcendence that I'm still struggling to grasp and which remains in the realms of intuition.

Every time I listen to 'Albedo' by Vangelis, I choke up. But the lyrics are made up of nothing but numbers and values. Do you, too, have a song or piece of music that affects you in a way that you ca't explain?

The track "Tonight" by Anne Laplantine, on the album Care (2002). I can't say any more than that it breaks my heart every time I listen to it, and it's so simple. You can download it here.

If you could make a wish for the future – what are developments in music you would like to see and hear?

For music itself, I don't know. I have the impression that, with all the people making music in the world, everything could exceed my expectations!

But perhaps where I'd like to see an evolution would be in new formats and listening environments, maybe better adapted to each style of music. We could be more inventive in the way we generally listen to live music. It would also allow for a greater diversity in the music represented.

In the ambient music scene, which I'm more involved with, I can see some things emerging along these lines (like offering concerts during the day, in quiet and comfortable environments, where people can lie down ...), but I still only see it in marginal spheres. Perhaps this approach could be less marignal?