Track-by-track: Camille Camille - Enchanted Sea

photograph by vincent leroi

In this increasingly digitalised, inauthentic society, we're often clamouring for human things; glimpses, moments that remind us we are fallible and imperfect. These things aren't always physical, there is plenty of humanity in the abstract, in intangible things that distract, inspire, enchant.

On her new album Enchanted Sea, Belgian songwriter Camille Camille threads her work with both of these strands and it feels all the more captivating for it. The album opens with breath being blown across a bottle-top, before closing with another form of breath, the sound of gentle humming rolling on and on, the performer lost in thought like all hummers should be.

Those songs are gift-wrapped to us plainly, and without embellishment, named on the album as 'Bottle Song' and 'Humming Song' respectively, while there's also a 'Piano Song' presented in-between. These are surrounded by songs with grander titles, but across the album the heart remains the same. From beginning to end, the songs feel earthy and lived-in, the edges a little frayed, held together by a simplicity that moves and fascinates the closer you get to them. You can feel the small wonder of life in them, is what I mean.

It's a truly beautiful record, the voice and the playing a subtle, understated companion to the quieter moments of a day, of this world. Enchanting in name and nature.

Released into the world today, you can listen to it wherever you choose to find your music, and keeping reading for an equally compelling guide to the album, written by Camille Camille herself...

Words by Camille Camille

About the album...

Enchanted Sea is a voyage, a collection of songs as personal as they come. They capture the joys and pain, the beauty and transformation, inspired by my very own journey navigating life as a woman in the second half of her twenties. Exploring the meaning and challenges of adulthood, the tension between freedom and responsibility, the vastness and immensity of nature, and the infinite yet fragile dimensions of love.

Blending intimate storytelling with a more cinematic sound, Enchanted Sea also marks an artistic expansion. I wanted to bring to life the full sonic landscape I long envisioned and also reconnected with old friends — the flute and piano — along the way.

Most of the tracks were recorded and produced at home, but I couldn’t have done it without the help of Michiel Renson, with whom I completed the mission at his home studio. I was also joined by friends and collaborators: the great Felix Baele (bass, charango, and backing vocals) and the talented brothers Orlan (drums) and Abel Ghekiere (clarinet, harmonium, and guitar). The recording process unfolded over time and places, giving each track its own sound and colour, resulting in an eclectic collection of songs woven together like a carefully crafted patchwork blanket.

Bottle Song

In Bottle Song I enter in a playful conversation with a glass bottle. Originally a bottle of cider that I was drinking whilst enjoying a beautiful sunset with my darling bird, which is when the melody was born (quite surely inspired by Francis Bebe’s pygmy flute explanatory video — a must watch on YouTube). Only a while later did the melody come back to me. I played the chords on my guitar and the song pretty much wrote itself. The Bottle Song is a light and hopeful ballad depicting a love that survived a many goodbyes, the fear for a merciless sea and the growing desire to build a a home and a family.

Le Vent

Originally written for the children choir of my mother 10 years ago — making it the oldest song on the album — Le Vent (the Wind) was my first ever song written in my mother tongue. Despite it being a relatively short song (just under three minutes long), the storm-like buildup possibly makes Le Vent arguably the most epic track of the record. It is an ode to this grand force of nature, depicting its behaviour and its impact on us mere humans. I happily managed to make a very rusty saw sing on this one!

Dove or the Devil

Dove and the Devil is the second oldest track on the record. It’s an introspective song about wounds, healing, and regaining trust — both in others and in oneself. I think it indirectly explores intuition as a compass when navigating life. This song is possibly the most vulnerable piece of the album and in order to capture its essence in the purest form, we recorded the song in a single take on a tape recorder.

In a Song

The seed for In a Song started sprouting in the spring of 2023 as I navigated life in Amsterdam, moving between our sailboat home, sub-rents along the canals, and the boatyard. I was stuck with only a guitar line for an unusually long time until I finally found melody and words that could do it justice. That was quite new for me compared to my usual creating process.

Very quickly, I found myself tapping my feet on the ground in a train-like percussion every time I played the tune. That loop felt evident from the start and became an underlying blanket throughout the track.

I recorded the skeleton of the song in my temporary home in Ghent and finished it in the spring of 2025 with the help of sound engineer and buddy Michiel Renson. In a Song is an ode to doubt, intimacy, the longing for answers, and the beginning of a new chapter!

Saga’s Lullaby

Saga’s Lullaby was composed during a quiet night sail on the IJsselmeer in 2021, as the wind died down and we slowly drifted into the darkness. There was no moon, only silence and complete darkness, above and below — interrupted occasionally by the soft sound of water caressing Saga’s hull. The melody and guitar picking had existed for four years, but the lyrics and final melody were written and recorded just a day before submitting the tracks for the final masters. The song took its time to take shape, but it was non-negotiable for me — it belonged to this chapter and therefore had to be on this record.

Enchanted Sea

Enchanted Sea is the first track of side B on the record, marking the opening of the album’s second chapter. Originally titled “Come to My Garden” (the first line of the song), the track begins with an extended soundscape intro. Organ, harmonium, and clarinet (all played by Abel Ghekiere), along with cymbals and multiple flutes, merge into a rich sonic blanket, later joined by ethereal, siren-like vocals.

I had a love-hate relationship with this track for a long time. The “garden” made it feel too green, while I knew the album would be blue. Then one day, while listening again, I had some sort of an epiphany and I knew the track had to be named Enchanted Sea. That very same day I also knew it would become the title of the record. From that moment, my love and respect for the track only grew, along with the underwater world that plays in my head whenever I hear or perform it.

The song subtly explores intergenerational wounds, digging deep into oneself and reaching the abyss of our being to heal both personal wounds and those passed down to us.

J’ai rêvé

To be honest, I had to dive into my voice memos to find the first drafts of J’ai Rêvé and remember when and where it came to be. I quickly found an early recording under that name, dated February 17th, 2021, and then went on to look for a photo from that same day. It was a picture of the lyrics coming out of my yellow typewriter in my bedroom at the time, in Leipzig.

I was navigating a long-distance relationship during the COVID years. Life — and pretty much everything — felt so uncertain. The only thing I could hold on to was hope and trust that life would do its thing and bring us together again somewhere, someday.

After performing the song with just my guitar for a few years, I recorded the first demo at home in Ghent in 2024, where the song took a new turn. I started hearing marching band–like drums and flutes, as if they were played by angels descending straight from heaven, telling me that everything would be okay. With the help of my acolyte Felix Baele (bass/charango), my friend Orlan Ghekiere (drums), and the flute kid inside me, J’ai Rêvé — originally a sad sailor’s ballad — simultaneously became a joyful hymn to love and hope.

Piano Song

This one is quite singular. I learned to play the piano long before I could play the guitar or write my own songs. I remember improvising on the piano for hours as a kid, losing track of time and space — it always felt deeply cathartic. Once I left my parents’ house, I lost touch with it, until I briefly owned my own piano in my then home in Gent. Returning to it was pure joy! Piano Song is a seven-minute, raw phone recording of an improvised piece. I initially had planned on turning it into a small interlude, but following the advice of a few close friends, I decided to leave it untouched. I’m very glad I did.

Dans Ce Paysage

I wrote this song shortly before recording the first demos for the album. Dans Ce Paysage (In This Landscape) was originally intended to be the final track of the record. It is a gentle French waltz — a love letter, an invitation — in which a few instruments join the dance: a wonky piano, clarinet, tambourine, and mouth harp, coming together like a small procession. As the song draws to a close, they gradually fade away, seemingly disappearing into the horizon, into the landscape itself.

Humming Song

The freshest song on the record, Humming Song was composed on a gloomy afternoon at a friend’s house in Falmouth, Cornwall, in September 2025. I came up with the melody and guitar and thought, “Well, that’s a nice base to build a song on.” My friend said it was perfect just as it was — and I realized I thought so too. I decided to close the album with this track, letting it serve as a breath and a space to take in the journey.