Harpist Julie Campiche’s instrument and music are polyphonic and polymorphous. She plays jazz with her quartet, modern chamber music with her Strings Project and composes music for performances and film. She thus courageously seeks a musical expression for contemporary social issues. The new release UNSPOKEN is Julie Campiche’s first solo album, with each composition being a musical portrait of a woman or a women’s movement.

From shadow to light

Her first inspiration was Charlotte Bienaimé's ‘Un podcast à soi’, which discusses fundamenttal questions of gender and feminism. "More often than not in history, 'Anonymous' was a woman" - this sentence by Virginia Woolf, epigraph to the famous radio podcast, has found an echo in Julie Campiche. Giving a voice to women, but in a distinct way: this is the common thread running through the album. Rather than a feminist manifesto, UNSPOKEN seeks to celebrate feminine strength, nourished by commitment and openness. She addresses the fragile balance of women in shadow and light of society. “Female strength is what makes the world go round. 80% of household chores are done by women for free and anonymously. I want to celebrate exceptional women, but also give a place to this everyday strength”. Among the figures who inspire her and whose voices and actions she evokes, are the Swiss artist and prostitute Grisélidis Réal, or Las Patronas, the Mexican guardian angels who throw food and water to those who have decided to migrate and illegally board freight trains bound for the USA.

Immersion and commitment

Produced with the clarity and autonomy of an indie pop album, UNSPOKEN combines elaborate harp playing with subtle use of electronics and effects, vocal and sound samples. The album unfolds a rich dramaturgy, allowing the listener to immerse in the music and to commit at the same time. With her harp, mind and software, daring to take risks, Julie wants to advance the debate in our society. True to her style, she takes the plunge, creating a new sonic space, without protocol or instructions to make women's voices heard and heard again. Her live shows are multi-disciplinary, integrating image projections that extend Julie Campiche’s influence, thus making a significant, lasting impact on the audience.

BIO: Moving forward, shaking things up

Classically trained, Julie Campiche discovered jazz during a big band performance twenty years ago. Fascinated by it, she decided to dive into this new world. She was the first harpist to earn a master's degree in jazz composition and performance at the Haute Ecole de Musique de Lausanne (HEMU). She has enjoyed a prolific career, making a name for herself on the international scene, where she tours regularly. She has received numerous prizes and awards, including the Swiss Music Prize in 2025 and a multi-year grant from the city of Geneva for the period 2024-2027. Her quartet's latest album was released on the prestigious German label Enja. The atypical nature of her career, the choice of a rare instrument used in unusual registers, make her a unique figure, an inspiring woman who sees her art only in terms of commitment. “I can't see art as being disconnected from society. In my approach, I seek to extract myself from the particular case to touch on the universal, to connect and encourage people to invest themselves in and for this world of ours”.

Julie Campiche about the songs:

Anonymous: This piece revolves around Virginia Woolf’s phrase: “For most of history, Anonymous was a woman.” Women are heard speaking this famous quote, each in her own language; a chorus of female voices creating a sense of community. Voices that reveal the women behind the anonymity, voices that remind us women are not a minority, that they are half of humanity. Musically, the piece is deliberately pared down to give full space to the singing. It includes beatboxing and drums evoking a heartbeat, as well as a tense chord with sustained notes that gradually emerge. The music stays in the background, creating a growing tension alongside the choir’s sonic power.

Grisélidis Réal: Mother, painter, writer, prostitute, internationally known political activist for the rights of sex workers and also an archivist in this field, Grisélidis lived a life of rare intensity. Always seeking freedom, she never hesitated to challenge the comforts of propriety. The song revolves around a groove built from iconic sounds of Grisélidis’s life: the whir of a photocopier for her activist role, footsteps on cobblestones for prostitution, the scratching of a pencil on paper for the writer, children’s laughter for the mother… On this sound base, I weave a musical fabric that tries to match this woman’s intensity, alternating the cry of revolt, the silent sigh of pain, the joy of living, and the fatigue of a tormented daily life. The atmosphere is inspired by a dancing momentum, without ever becoming mere entertainment.

Andréa Bescond: Dancer, director, author and actress, Andréa dedicates all her artistic pursuits to supporting her activism against violence toward women and children. She fights to break the media silence and denounce the system that protects abusers. Musically, this piece relies on the sound of ticking seconds, embodying tension in all its forms. It first evokes the anxiety of the unpredictable moment when violence might happen, but also the certainty that it will. The rhythm is built on sounds of blows and breaths, punctuated by sudden silences that recall the brutality and unpredictability of the acts. The melody, played with a particular harp technique, evokes screams. Tension rises gradually until it culminates in a sustained electronic note, like a flat electrocardiogram—a tragic symbol of death caused by these violences.

Rosa: Rosa has no surname. This composition pays tribute to all the women who work in the shadows of our society. Their work enables women in Western societies to be freed from household chores and child-rearing, without questioning the founding principles of our social structure. Musically, the piece relies on repetitive rhythms that nourish constant tension. The melodic lines, both low and high, respond in counterpoint, tinged with melancholy. Looped and gradually amplified, they intensify until they dissolve into distortion, as if to express the wear and rage simmering beneath the surface.

Las Patronas: A group of Mexican women who help Central American migrants traveling in freight trains in search of a better future in the United States by providing food and water. These women prepare about 300 meals every day, which they throw in bags to passing migrants on the trains. Despite difficulties such as harassment and threats from authorities and criminal groups, they continue their courageous humanitarian mission. They’ve become a symbol of hope and solidarity for countless migrants from Central America. In this piece, I abandon the harp to recite a poem in Spanish, accompanied by a drum and a shruti (an Indian acoustic instrument that unfolds long, vibrating drones).

Tarana Burke: Created the #MeToo hashtag to offer support and empowerment to female victims of sexual abuse. The movement exploded globally in 2017, especially when white communities adopted it first through the Weinstein case. Time Magazine named her among “The Silence Breakers” (Persons of the Year 2017), acknowledging how gender-based oppression intersects with race, class, and sexuality. By illuminating her story, this piece invites reflection on power dynamics and systemic inequalities. Musically, the track integrates a sample from one of Tarana Burke’s speeches, whose words call for gathering together and remind us that strength lies in unity. Its musical structure, constantly expanding, is an invitation to collective action and solidarity.

Maman du ciel: A street-art artist who speaks out against incest and intrafamilial violence. Maman du ciel is a mother who has lost custody of her child and is fighting to regain her parental rights and protect her 7-year-old daughter, who has been placed with her father — despite an ongoing criminal investigation against him for incest. To let her daughter know she’s fighting for her, this mother places drawings of birds they made together in the street leading to her daughter’s school. Musically, this piece rests on an obsessive question: “Why can’t you hear?” This phrase unfolds in vocal polyphony, in loops, like a cry that finds no echo. The harp, playing a bass line doubled with polyrhythm, establishes a feeling of imbalance and instability. Above this texture, a vocal improvisation brushes the shape of a lullaby—fragile, wavering—as if still trying to protect, despite everything.

Zaïna: This piece is my very first composition. Its inclusion is deeply symbolic, for it embodies the very essence of innocence. Every woman, before assuming the feminine identity and its associated social construction, is first of all a human being. This idea directly echoes Simone de Beauvoir’s famous phrase: “One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman,” underlining how deeply constructed and cultural the feminine gender is in our society. Musically, this piece unfolds entirely acoustically, with no recourse to electronics. It literally emerges from silence, building gradually around an improvisation to reach its peak with the melody played on harp and sung. This progression symbolizes both the fragility and power of innocence, capturing all its emotional complexity and richness.