To me, as a singer, we always abandon a part of ourselves on stage: a piece of happiness, of angriness, of fear, of dream, and even of frenzy… this is exactly what the pleasure of singing is made of, beyond any other thing.
Then, comes up also for me the passion of nice melodies, of lyrics, of swing, of groove but without manners: we are probably true once we’ve given up all these bothering effects… Some times ago, good but soulless-voiced singers of musicals and machines intended for replacing actual musicians bored me.
“So what is it you do exactly Miss?
Exactly? I am the one who dreams to be the daughter of Rickie lee Jones and Trenet, of Ella fitzgerald and Nougaro , of Maurane and Sting , of Eva Cassidy and Souchon, and you, Sir, do know that it is through dreaming that we achieve the greatest things…”