Tangy refrains, incisive lyrics, bursts and whispers, wistfulness and hope: these contrasts coexist in symbiosis in the world of Gabrielle Verleyen, offering us a gentle, luminous melancholy. At the crossroads of folk, indie-pop and alternative rock, her songs embrace flaws as a part of life and remind us that light only takes on its full meaning when it meets shadow.

Open Gabrielle’s childhood diary and you’ll find poems, drawings, short stories and, in the midst of it all, one sentence that stands out: “For me, singing is expressing myself. It’s almost a vital need.”

Nothing has changed since, except that she eventually blended poetry and music to make songs. In her lyrics, she speaks almost exclusively of what dwells within her, haunts her and challenges her, of all those small wounds she doesn’t know how to express otherwise.

Convinced that her voice was ugly and off-key, the Belgian artist didn’t dare sing in front of anyone until well into her twenties. She first followed a classical path, studying Romance languages and literature in Brussels, before deciding it was high time to do what she truly loved. She then escaped to Rotterdam, enrolled in a world music vocal programme at the conservatory and formed her first bands. That seven-year stay left her with intense memories and a sadness tied to her return to her home country.

Written on this nostalgic ground, a first EP, Le Lac, was released in 2021. Several of its songs were played on Belgian radio and even made it onto the soundtrack of Alessio Della Valle’s film American Night. It was welcome recognition for the young woman, who had already won third prize in the final of F dans le texte that same year, which led her to open for international artists such as Dominique A, This Is the Kit and SYML.

Today she presents Fenêtres ouvertes, a debut album whose landscape resembles a break in the clouds during a storm, or a thunderstorm in the middle of a blue sky. The first singles, played on numerous radio stations including FIP, offer a foretaste, notably “Love love love”, which won the Music Prize at the VKRS competition (Speed-Clipping category).

Born from a need to express painful feelings and experiences, the album’s true purpose is to open the windows to let in light and everything that comes with it, not seeking to resolve but rather to find a direction. Opening the windows also means exposing small fragments of life, agreeing to make long-hidden scars visible and showing them in broad daylight. It deals with control, domestic violence, facial paralysis, relationships to oneself and to others, and lost time: universal themes approached here with a pen that is at once intimate, vulnerable and powerful. Always with the intention of inviting us to look at the reflections on the lake’s surface rather than the monsters lining its depths. Its production, both raw and elegant, evokes the offbeat folk of Aldous Harding as much as the languor of Lana Del Rey.

Recorded by the singer herself using a mobile studio across more than ten locations, even inside a wardrobe, the album’s atmosphere and texture are steeped in rough edges, ambient sounds and audible traces of life pulsing outside, together creating a living record. An album that resonates with the concerns of its time, those that call for self-acceptance and for embracing one’s vulnerability.