In 2014, Agnès Gayraud, bold and independent Parisian singer, guitarist and author, released her first album Adieu l’enfance.
A unique voice emerged from it, giving free reign to subtle obsessions and hypnotic new wave sounds, urban climates and introspective lyrics, defining La Féline’s intriguing fur.
While creating her second album, Triomphe, La Féline started a new fascinating metamorphosis. Triomphe is like some ambitious place where La Féline transforms the forest into a refuge, the sea into a primordial swamp from which to emerge reborn, and projects herself into a city of Tokyo where nature has reclaimed its rights.
In this place we talk of renaissances (“Samsara”, “Le Plongeur” — pulled down to the depths by the sound of an octobass), meet Greek gods and spirit animals (“Senga”), question the place of man in the community (“Le Royaume”, “Comité rouge”).
After looking inwards toward the intimate, her songs now open up to a new kind of ecstasy, suggesting a whole unexplored world behind the veil of appearances.
Behind this ambiguous title and sleeve with its mystic look, the atmospheres are profound and sensual, the colours warm and the grooves sinuous.
In the eyes of La Féline, the world exists in a half light, with fantastical colours, a place where opposites seek each other, seek balance. Here, the purity of expression is intense.
Here, the savagery is sweet.