Lea Maria Fries: a new voice in jazz and experimental music

Her voice belongs to all times, carrying introspective whispers that linger in the air. The echo of her words comes from different latitudes, or at least, that's what the coordinates suggest: imaginary cities, green hills, unreachable skyscrapers, and underground parties. The only constant is the contrasts, which emerge through a blend of styles and elements that she defines as quicksilver jazz. Her album doesn’t just visit places, it creates them, mapping an emotional geography to get lost.

At the heart of the album lies a vessel for cultural references that reveal her artistic evolution. CLEO is an album, but above all, an immaterial place to enter her world. Tracing its roots, Lea Maria Fries unveils the core of her latest project. "When I was little, I was a super fan of Egyptian culture. I had countless books. Somehow, Cleopatra — I mean, she's like the most famous queen or pharaoh — was always there," she continues. "When I wrote the album, I dedicated the title track to all the women I know and to personalities like Maria Stewart, Amelia Earhart, and Patti Smith: women who achieved incredible things in culture and beyond. CLEO stands for every woman; it could be your grandma, my grandma, your aunt, your daughter, whatever." The seed that was planted when she was a little girl bloomed as an album that weaves a sonic ode to feminine strength.

Behind CLEO’s powerful imagery lies a story of personal growth that began long before Lea Maria Fries ever set foot in a recording studio. "I didn't grow up with jazz. I'm not coming from a musical background or anything like that. I was just a teenage girl in Switzerland, growing up in the 90s with grunge." As a kid, she was always singing without knowing that music was a profession. "When I was about seventeen, my vocal teacher told me, 'Hey, maybe you should study jazz vocals; you love to improvise, and you have a very natural way of singing.'" At the time, she immersed herself in the standards and compositions of Miles Davis. Soon after, she enrolled at the Lucerne School of Music. Since then, she has devoted herself entirely to music, working for other artists before turning to a work that bears her name for the first time, marking what feels like a true debut.

Lea crafts a soundscape that is as intimate as it is expansive. In her voice, metaphors become vivid images waiting to exist in the consciousness of the listeners. The opening track, Liquid Thoughts, rewards repeated listening to uncover the tapestry of references and musical textures it holds. As Fries explains, the song’s imagery draws heavily from her personal history: "It starts with 'oily hand, copper cables,' my father was a mechanic, so I remember his black, oily hands and the cables everywhere. There’s 'city concrete creatures' that’s Berlin, the techno scene, the feeling of being underground. I also mentioned 'decay to death to rebirth' — because growth often requires letting go, and that can be painful. But new things grow from that. Liquid also represents transformation: water shapeshifts — it can be vapor, an ocean, a tiny drop — the smallest or the largest of things."

Just like life itself, CLEO is full of colors, shades, and emotions. From one moment to another, Lea goes from sensuality to darkness, choosing the right texture to paint the canvas — a process of intimacy and curiosity. "I sing lyrics, sometimes finished and sometimes just mumbling: English, Swiss German, French, whatever comes out, and I play the piano and record it on my phone. The sketches are always raw." The instincts and emotions guide her until the skeleton of the song is ready, then Julien Herné, the artistic director and bass player, arranges the material and connects the dots that bring structure to the whole piece. In the search for authenticity, he’s willing to ignite sparks — recording ambient sounds that might later become elements to improvise with.

Through creative encounters, time becomes elastic — a composition process that stretched over two years. "I had some music and lyrics written as well as some unfinished ideas. I called Julien, and we started making demo versions of my compositions. Then I called my band, the pianist Gauthier Toux, and drummer Antoine Paganotti, and we jammed and rehearsed around it, more with a jazz approach. The process unfolded over several stages and pauses, and that's what made the album so strong. We had time to let things rest, to come back with fresh ears, kick out what wasn’t working, and notice what was missing. It was like growing a plant, little by little."

I think the album reflects my process, as a human and as an artist, of growing, questioning who I am, where I come from, and what my influences are in music, art, and life. For me, it’s so important to keep moving forward, creating new things, and going through these cycles again.

The thirteen songs that give life to CLEO inhabit a world of improvisation, blending rock, electronic, and experimental sounds. Jazz, for Fries, is about taking everything you know and pushing it further — creating in the present. "I love improvisation. I love being in the moment; it's one of the most precious things we have in music, especially for live artists," she says. "My musicians are all incredibly skilled, and it was important for me that they brought their colors. I wanted them to express themselves on their solos. But what was equally important was to keep the DNA of the songs intact. We wanted the improvisations not just to showcase musicianship, but to serve the compositions and tell the story. The musicians could bring their angles, but had to stay connected to the thread." An invisible cord marked by the storytelling of each track.

CLEO is a sonic radiography that introduces us to both the real and dreamlike world of Lea Maria Fries. To understand her, you don't need an X-ray session; just listen to her voice, feel the warmth of water, admire the beauty of mushrooms, and lose yourself beneath subterranean cities. At the same time, pay close attention to the unwritten dialogues between her and the musicians. We realize we are witnessing a living cycle — one that constantly evolves, just like the music itself.