Music Hole

Ah, the French. Where would we be without their wilful eccentricities, their dare-to-be-different dogma, their unconventional approach to everything? Camille Dalmais, inspired and maddening in equal measure, represents all that is idiosyncratic about the French approach to pop with her third album, Music Hole.
The record is a tour de force of outré vocal experimentation, a skittish, playful homage to the human voice and it’s endless sonic possibilities. Try to imagine a less austere sister album to Bjork’s Medulla and you’re pretty close. The opener ‘Gospel For No Lord’ is an unabashed and buoyant slice of vocal harmonics, skipping giddily from blushed hip-hop beats to high-wire crooning. ‘The Monk’ is a gorgeous, esoteric soaring mini-opera, reminiscent of CocoRosie and their layered, mellifluous interplay. The chanteuse even goads her contemporaries on the sassy ‘Money Note’, declaring, “I just want to beat Mariah”, before segueing into some glass shattering histrionics.
While many will swoon at the exaggerated theatrics, others simply won’t get it. Remember, this is a woman whose last record, Le Fil, was built entirely around a minimal drone, and had several buyers convinced their CD was broken. The sparse musical accompaniment on Music Hole means there is little respite from Camille’s vocal tics, beats, pants, coos, heaves, and murmurs. But if you choose to go with it, this arresting curio can be gleaned for more than enough reward.
Mark Keane
Key Track: ‘Gospel With No Lord’