Julie Campiche's latest album, Unspoken, is a masterclass in subtlety and nuance, effortlessly weaving together disparate sounds to create a sonic tapestry that is both deeply personal and universally relatable.
The 25-year-old Swiss harpist has been making waves in the jazz scene with her virtuosic instrumental performances, but Unspoken marks a significant departure from her earlier work. Gone are the bombastic arrangements of yesteryear; instead, Campiche offers an unaccompanied album that is at once intimate and expansive.
Throughout Unspoken, Campiche's harp playing is the clear centrepiece, its crystalline tones conjuring images of misty mountain landscapes and moonlit forests. Yet, it's not alone – a rich array of sounds swirls around her, from the ominous creaking of footsteps to the lilting rhythms of migrant workers.
The album is also a celebration of sisterhood, dedicated to women who have inspired Campiche throughout her life. Her tribute to Grisélidis Réal, a Swiss artist and writer, is a hauntingly beautiful meditation on identity and creativity, while Rosa is a rousing anthem to the resilience of migrant workers.
What sets Unspoken apart from its predecessor is its clarity – there are no extramusical agendas or polemics here. Campiche's vision is pure, allowing her music to speak for itself in all its quiet power.
In contrast, some of this month's other releases are more overtly ambitious. New York pianist Craig Taborn's Dream Archives is a virtuosic showcase for his talents, while trumpeter Airelle Besson and accordionist Lionel Suárez deliver a joyous mainline jazz set on Blossom. Meanwhile, gifted young UK pianist Noah Stoneman presents an ingenious reworking of his own compositions with Dance at Zero.
Despite the contrasts, Unspoken stands as a testament to Campiche's unique vision – a world where the boundaries between sound and silence are blurred, and the listener is free to drift wherever their imagination may take them.
The 25-year-old Swiss harpist has been making waves in the jazz scene with her virtuosic instrumental performances, but Unspoken marks a significant departure from her earlier work. Gone are the bombastic arrangements of yesteryear; instead, Campiche offers an unaccompanied album that is at once intimate and expansive.
Throughout Unspoken, Campiche's harp playing is the clear centrepiece, its crystalline tones conjuring images of misty mountain landscapes and moonlit forests. Yet, it's not alone – a rich array of sounds swirls around her, from the ominous creaking of footsteps to the lilting rhythms of migrant workers.
The album is also a celebration of sisterhood, dedicated to women who have inspired Campiche throughout her life. Her tribute to Grisélidis Réal, a Swiss artist and writer, is a hauntingly beautiful meditation on identity and creativity, while Rosa is a rousing anthem to the resilience of migrant workers.
What sets Unspoken apart from its predecessor is its clarity – there are no extramusical agendas or polemics here. Campiche's vision is pure, allowing her music to speak for itself in all its quiet power.
In contrast, some of this month's other releases are more overtly ambitious. New York pianist Craig Taborn's Dream Archives is a virtuosic showcase for his talents, while trumpeter Airelle Besson and accordionist Lionel Suárez deliver a joyous mainline jazz set on Blossom. Meanwhile, gifted young UK pianist Noah Stoneman presents an ingenious reworking of his own compositions with Dance at Zero.
Despite the contrasts, Unspoken stands as a testament to Campiche's unique vision – a world where the boundaries between sound and silence are blurred, and the listener is free to drift wherever their imagination may take them.