The MOVIE Piano Scores

You know my love for sheet music. Every album in my repertoire has had its own object. A single color, carried all the way to the edge. Musical notes transcribed with care, one bar after another. I compose from an emotion, by instinct, by ear. The writing comes after. It is a work of patience and reflection, a meticulous process where every detail matters, until the score feels right.

But this book came with an additional challenge.

MOVIE was conceived for orchestra, voices, choir. All that matter had to be brought back to ten fingers.

A true work of arrangement had to be done so that you could, alone at home, play these pieces again on the piano.

So I brought together two approaches.

The first is classical: my personal versions, the ones that come naturally to me when I translate my compositions with voices or orchestra into solo piano. The vocal melodies move to the right hand. The left hand carry the accompaniment, the rhythm, the breathing, on its own.

The second comes from jazz, from contemporary music. These are the lead sheets. They hold the essence of each piece: the melody, the chords. Nothing more. This way of reading leaves space. It is made for those who will want to invent their own arrangements.

Two paths for each piece. One is my proposition. The other is ready to welcome yours.

MOVIE was composed by me, scene after scene, until the very last note. Today, it changes hands.

Now it is your turn to become the director of MOVIE.

Your ticket to Stade de France

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

MOVIE was composed like a film. Twenty scenes, sixty three minutes. I wrote each piece with a story in mind. But starting today, that story is no longer mine.

It is yours.

The music of MOVIE can now become the soundtrack of your own film. The one where you are the main character.

Since November, I’ve been writing to you every week. Thousands of you read these words with an attention that stayed with me through the entire process. That faithful presence gives courage. Thank you. Thank you for waiting. Thank you for trusting me.

I’m going to pull my voice back a little now. Make space. The compositions are the ones that must speak. I will write to you again, more occasionally, for key moments, for announcements. But the time of weekly letters is coming to an end.

The greatest adventure begins now. Yours.

MOVIE is the film of everything I’ve lived, crossed, dreamed since childhood. And as of today, it is yours too.

I feel a lot of emotion writing these lines. I’ve hoped for this day for a long time.

I want to thank the team around me. Hundreds of people were mobilized for this album. Carrying a project of this scale is a collective effort. You don’t get there alone. Holding on over time, keeping the course of a dream that matters to you, adapting, overcoming difficulties one after another, together, without bending. It’s by joining forces that we turn the impossible into possible, and imagination into something real.

Thank you for reading. Thank you for listening. Thank you for being here.

Pre-Order MOVIE

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Pre-Order MOVIE

Seven days.

I sleep very little. I can feel something coming, something separating from me. I put so much love into this album. It has been my reason for being for two and a half years. The sleepless nights at the piano. The doubts that eat away at you. The certainties that return. The abandoned versions. The melodies that resist. The surges of inspiration. The long trips. The sessions with artists I admire. The difficult choices. The necessary renunciations. Everything converges toward a single point. A date. Next Thursday. Midnight.

I’m having flashbacks. Moments of creation rising up without warning. A studio in New York in the middle of the night. A melody found at sunrise. A look exchanged with an artist when we both know the take is the one. I savor each day because these last moments go too fast. I want April 17 to arrive, and at the same time, what I feel while the album is still a secret is unique. No single has been released. Every minute of this album will meet you for the first time.

I feel happy. Excited. Proud.

And there is this awareness that everything is about to change, irreversibly. As long as the album isn’t out, it belongs to me. I know it by heart. I know what it holds, what it hides, what it promises. In seven days, it won’t be mine anymore. It will be yours. You will listen with your stories, your emotions, your joys, your memories. You will attach this music to moments in your life that I will never know. The album will live as many lives as it has listeners. And I will have no control over that.

It’s dizzying. And it’s exactly what I hope for.

There is a kind of separation in releasing an album. You let go of something you carried alone for a long time. Something intimate, fragile, that you protected from the outside world for months. And one morning, you open the door. You say: here. It’s for you. Take it. Do whatever you want with it.

I’ve done a few private listening sessions these past days, for the quality of the exchanges with journalists who are writing about the album right now. It’s fascinating. There is so much to say about these twenty tracks. So many layers, so many stories behind each scene.

I think back to the first notes played in my house in Los Angeles. The sun was rising. I didn’t know yet that this theme would become « Sunrise In Your Eyes ». I didn’t know I would record in Prague, in New York, in London. I didn’t know that fourteen extraordinary artists would enter this film. I was composing. I was dreaming. I was imagining the best scenarios for my music. I was following my intuition.

Two and a half years later, that intuition has become twenty tracks. Sixty three minutes. A cast. An orchestra. A choir. Six cities. Eight studios. And soon, thousands of hands opening a vinyl, a CD, pressing play on the first track.

I imagine some of you listening on the platforms from midnight to 1:03 a.m., on Thursday night into Friday. Others will wait to receive the object, to hold it in your hands before you let the first note begin.

I don’t know what will happen in seven days. I don’t know how this album will be received. What I do know is that every note is in its place. Every breath has been weighed. I kept nothing for myself. And that craftsman’s certainty is enough to leave me at peace.

Pre-Order MOVIE

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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The MOVIE Collection

With my team, we imagined a small collection around MOVIE; pieces that extend the album’s world. Each object was made with the same level of care. I had them in my hands, and I’m truly happy with the result.

A silk scarf.
90 x 90 cm. It carries the colors and visual identity of MOVIE. The artwork is a beautiful Hollywood fresco, drawn by Adrien Beaujeant, inspired by the view I have from the house where I composed the entire album.

A black unisex t-shirt.
A series of pictograms inspired by the city’s glamorous, cinematic energy was created for this album. You’ll find one discreetly on the front, and another on the back, a light haze that wraps around the title MOVIE.

A californian t-shirt.
Premium, lighter. The one you want to wear in summer. It holds the Los Angeles way of life inside it, the city where the album was born.

A black sweatshirt.
An everyday classic. With the guest list, the full cast of MOVIE.

I know the life these pieces will have. For years, I’ve watched you make the items that accompany my album releases your own. You wear them at concerts. I’ve seen you at signing sessions. I receive your photos traveling with the merch, at the gym, at the beach, in class, at the office, proudly wearing a project that you choose to support. Thank you for that love.

Deliveries will happen on April 17, the day the album is released. Everything arrives at once.

12 days left…

Pre-Order MOVIE

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Pre-Order MOVIE

From the very beginning of these letters, I have revealed to you the studios, the cities, the orchestra, the choir, the thoughts behind certain tracks, the album name, the cover art, my emotions.

One secret remained. MOVIE is a film. And a film needs actors.

I am excited to unveil the album's cast, in order of appearance:

Wyclef Jean
Celeste
Loreen
Jimmy Butler
Rema
J Balvin
FKJ
Christine and the Queens
Sia
Rimon
Rilès
Melody Gardot
Oscar and the Wolf
Nelly Furtado

It is an honor for me to have them by my side to carry the message of MOVIE.

Pre-Order MOVIE

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Pre-Order the new signed Album

I believe in objects. In their weight, their texture, the way they take up space. A well made object carries an intention. It says something before you even open it. It announces care, standards, a promise. Designing every object that accompanies my music is a priority for my team and me. Every decision is taken at the highest level: materials, finishes, formats. It’s respect, for my own work, and for those who receive it.

The sheet music I publish has a solid color, with ink sprayed on the edge so each book lives in a single tone. The typefaces reflect our taste for minimalism. The transcriptions are drawn with fine, precise lines. These are objects meant to be placed on a piano, and looked at before they are played. The beauty of the score is part of the musical experience. It shapes the relationship you’ll have with the piece.

The books that accompany each album always share the same singular format. They contain adventure photographs, poetry, prose. Each album becomes an opportunity to tell the moments of life that surrounded the birth of the project: the travels, the encounters, the places, the faces. These books are an extension of the album, a way of showing what the music lets you hear.

The CDs are designed like cases. The paper choice, the thickness, the layout of the visuals, the credits, every detail matters. A CD you open should provoke something. Not just contain music, announce it.

And then there is vinyl.

Vinyl has something special. The sleeve first. A thirty centimeter square that gives the artwork room to breathe. The visual world unfolds, colors open up, details appear. The gesture is elegant too: sliding the record out, placing it on the turntable, lowering the needle. This ritual forces you to slow down. You settle in, you choose the moment, you commit to listening.

With my designer Adrien Beaujeant, who has created all my artworks since PLANET, each format is treated as its own object. The CD contains elements that do not appear on the vinyl. The vinyl reveals visual choices the CD cannot hold. These are not variations of the same thing. They are full objects, each designed for its format, each with its own secrets.

I think of these objects as a collection. The CDs side by side on a shelf carry the same line. The sheet music aligned becomes a coherent sequence. The books share a format, an identity. Each new album completes what already exists. We don’t start from zero, we add a chapter to a library that builds itself over the years. I like the idea that someone can look at the whole and read a trajectory. That each object finds its place next to the previous one, naturally, as if it had always been expected there.

I spent a good part of this week signing thousands of CDs and vinyl records to honor the pre orders. Hours, whole days, placing my signature on each one. For the first time, I held the finished objects in my hands. The real ones, the ones coming out of our factories. The MOVIE sleeve, the printed artwork, the pressing quality. It was a deeply emotional moment. Holding two years of work in your hands, condensed into an object you can touch, turn over, watch under the light. I waited for this moment for a long time.

19 days left.

I’m especially proud of what you’re about to receive.

Pre-Order the new signed Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

We place emotions with the mediums we have. A photographer has light. A dancer has the body. A sculptor has matter. But there is one medium we all share: the language we speak.

Each language carries an entire world inside it, its sounds, its culture, its own way of telling the real and the invisible. Some emotions exist only in the languages that gave them birth.

Portuguese invented a word, saudade, to name a soft nostalgia, the feeling of absence of someone or something you loved, whose trace keeps vibrating inside you. When Elis Regina sings O Que Tinha De Ser, something passes through the voice that goes beyond the text. It is the language itself that trembles, with its open vowels and its melancholic sweetness.

When Fairuz sings Wahdon, Arabic makes every syllable resonate like a call sent from very far away. The language carries a depth that seems to connect the one who speaks to something greater than themselves. When Ana Belén sings Lía, Spanish burns. When Brel sings Ne me quitte pas, French allows you to beg while keeping dignity. When Melody Gardot sings Burying My Troubles, English goes straight to the point, and breaks us without detours.

Each language opens doors the others do not know. And each artist, by choosing their own, also chooses what they will be able to say, and what will remain unreachable.

And then there is music without words.

Rachmaninov wrote his Vocalise, Op. 34 No. 14, for a voice that pronounces no words. From beginning to end, the singer holds a single vowel. Without text, the piece tells love, regret, hope, farewell.

From my piano, I can say what exists before sentences, before explanations. I can say what I carry in my heart without removing the shyness that covers it. I protect myself while revealing everything.

There is a piece on my next album, MOVIE, that speaks love words, promises we keep hidden out of modesty. Words too heavy to carry alone, and yet impossible to say out loud. They could frighten. They could put us in danger.

Come With Me Tonight is track 16 on MOVIE. A solo piano piece. A romantic invitation to an adventure we do not dare to formulate with our voice. The piece keeps swinging between light and melancholy, like the mind when you hope for something with all your strength, and fear it will not happen. You no longer know where to stand. Out of love, you hope. Out of love, you worry. The melody moves forward like a hand extended in the dark. It translates that balance between what you could give the other, and the fear that the invitation will not be answered, that it will not be said at the right moment, that it will not be received the way it should.

The end of the piece is nostalgia, the fear of never living what would be so beautiful. Something that can only be felt by sharing it with the one you love.

On April 17, 2026, when it is in your hands, I wonder if you will hear what I meant to tell, or if a completely different story will be born inside you.

Pre-Order the new signed Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

I often receive proposals to compose for cinema but I wanted my fourth album to be the first movie I ever scored.

My new album is called MOVIE. It will be released on April 17, 2026.

My whole life looks like a film to me today. Childhood dreams, naive and without limits. The trials. The encounters. The ascent. Nights in Los Angeles, facing the sleeping city. Sessions in Prague with the Opera Choir. The seventy orchestral musicians who gave my melodies a scale I had only dreamed of. Everything comes together in these twenty tracks.

The cover is a childhood photograph. It was taken by my father, with one of his film cameras. Those who read my last letter will understand. This image comes from his albums, from that closet where he patiently stored what life was going to erase. Today, that photo becomes the cover of the most ambitious album so far of my career.

This album was composed in Los Angeles, recorded across six cities and eight studios. The mix was done by Shinji Hashimoto and Renaud Héritier. The mastering was entrusted to Matt Colton, Grammy Award winner, at Metropolis Studios in London. Two years of work. From the first note played at sunrise in California, to the last session at the Rudolfinum in Prague.

Here is what you already know about the tracklist:

01 Sunrise In Your Eyes
02 ……….
03 ……….
04 The Knight Ceremony
05 ……….
06 Midnight In California
07 ……….
08 Beauty
09 ……….
10 ……….
11 Your Inner World
12 Cinema
13 ……….
14 ……….
15 How To Love
16 ……….
17 ……….
18 ……….
19 ……….
20 Your Eyes On Sunset

Eight scenes have already been entrusted to you, told to you, or left as clues in the letters I have been sending you every week since November.

Twenty scenes, one journey. A sunrise to open, a sunset to close. In between, sixty three minutes of music composed to be crossed in a single breath, from the first track to the last.

In one month, on April 17, 2026, MOVIE will be yours.

Pre-Order the new signed Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

My father has always taken photographs. Since childhood, with film cameras he kept his entire life. He did it without claiming anything, without expecting recognition. He stole moments that would have disappeared forever, then filed them carefully into albums stored in a closet. Simply. Out of love for the people he photographed, out of love for his family.

Film is rare by nature. Shots are limited. You only discover them after they’ve been developed. You have to trust the moment without an immediate preview, without checking. You stay inside the instant, you keep living it. And only later do you return to it. I find that more honest, and less intrusive. Film photography doesn’t steal the moment, it extends it into the future.

As I grew up, I realized what a treasure my father had built. What moves me, when I think about it, is the discretion of his gesture. Childhood photographs are irreplaceable. Our memories from that time are often blurry, reshaped by years. A photograph can bring the thread back, and let you see yourself as you truly were.

And looking at them, I realized that as children, we know everything. Our tastes, our dreams, what truly animates us. It’s all there, intact, without a filter. Then we get lost along the way. We meet the rough side of life, the part that can bruise us, wear us down, until the day we try to find that child again. To understand what they knew, and what we forgot.

My father’s photographs helped me stay myself. They helped me understand what moved me naturally when I was eight. And they helped me find the thread again whenever I drifted too far.

Recently, I thanked him. I told him what his photographs mean to me. He was deeply moved. He showed me he had kept all his cameras. All but one, which was stolen from him during a mishap. He still regrets it.

Each camera is tied to an era, to faces, to a particular light. My father never claimed the title of artist. But what he was doing was exactly that. Capturing what disappears. Turning time into something you can hold.

All the childhood photos I’ve been sharing with you for weeks in these letters are his, taken from his collection. And the new music you’ll discover in a few weeks has a link to childhood. It carries the fulfillment of naive dreams, dreams with no limits inside imagination. Dreams still intact, before I had collided with the things that can shrink us. Everything blends together today. My childhood dreams, my adult understanding, the feeling that my life has always been this film, the necessity of never forgetting where I come from.

I believe in real things. The ones life gives us, and its poetry. The ones that disappear, and that we have to capture if we want to keep a trace. That is part of the role of artists. Saving what time carries away.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m living out a secret dream of my father. Where he had to face more pragmatic realities, to renounce a part of himself so his children could fully focus on what they truly love. That secret dream I read today between his photographs. The dream of a man who never stopped creating, even when no one encouraged him to.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

I’m private when it comes to love.
Luckily, I can say a lot through the piano and still keep some mystery. The piano allows that. It reveals without exposing. It touches without forcing its way in.

Love is everywhere, and it explains everything. A lack of love in childhood that we go searching for as adults. A hunger for recognition. The desire to avenge a broken heart. The will to build, to grow, to keep improving no matter what within a relationship we’ve committed to. Love is something each of us claims in our own way, something we interpret through our lives and our most intimate experiences. That’s what makes communication in a relationship so important, and so difficult at the same time.

Two people can love each other sincerely and still fail to understand one another. One gives, the other doesn’t know how to receive. One waits, the other doesn’t know how to come closer. One asks for words, the other offers silence. And silence, in love, is the most dangerous ground for interpretation. We project our fears onto it, along with our old wounds. We turn the absence of an answer into an answer. We build entire conclusions out of nothing.

Some people love by giving everything, as if pouring an entire ocean into someone else’s hands. And when those hands can’t hold it, when the other steps back under the weight of what they’re being given, the one who gives is left alone with their generosity. Exhausted from offering what was never asked for. Hurt by having revealed too much. No one teaches us this. No one teaches us the right measure in love. No one tells us when to give, when to hold back, when to leave.

And then there are those who want to love but don’t know how. It isn’t coldness or indifference. It’s an inability to find the right gesture. The feeling is there, but somewhere between the heart and its expression, something locks. Fear of doing it wrong. Fear of opening a door you won’t be able to close again. Fear that once the other has seen what’s inside, they will decide to leave.

Maybe that is the true drama of love: the struggle to translate your feelings into the other person’s language. We talk about love as if there were a manual, as if loving were a skill you master with practice. In reality, we enter a relationship each carrying our own grammar, our own logic, our own definitions. What one person calls love, the other calls dependence. What one person calls freedom, the other calls abandonment.

Do we have the patience to learn the other person’s language? Do we keep giving what the other is unable to receive, or do we finally give ourselves what we had been waiting for from them? We can point the way, offer landmarks, find the words. But in the end, the other person is the one who has to walk the path. And at the same time, they do what they can with what they know. And sometimes, it still isn’t enough.

Next month, you’ll hear a piece on my album that carries these questions. It’s called How To Love. It captures that tension between two people who sincerely want to love each other, and the difficulty of actually getting there. It’s a piece about the effort love requires. About that conversation almost everyone has had at least once, when you realize that wanting to love is not enough, you still have to learn how.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

Human beings have been composing for centuries, and still we keep pushing our own limits, renewing ourselves, blending genres and sounds that were never supposed to meet. That infinity of options makes composition both beautiful and dizzying.

Because creating is choosing. In an ocean of possibilities, with no landmarks, you drown. What people call the blank page is actually a page that’s already too full. It contains everything that could exist, and that is exactly what paralyzes us. It isn’t a lack of ideas that stops creation, it’s their excess.

So when I begin a new creative journey, the first question I ask myself is: what colors am I going to paint with?

Think of a composer as a painter. The canvas is time. The colors are sound. And like a painter who chooses a palette before touching the canvas, I choose my instruments, my textures, my limits. That first choice will give the album its signature. The melodies come after, once the frame is set.

The most visible colors in music are the instruments. Piano alone. Orchestra. Voices. And the voice, I admire it so much. The way it can be worked, sculpted, pushed. And the role of chance, too. The voice is the only instrument you don’t choose. You are born with it. You don’t decide its range, or its grain. And yet you can spend a whole lifetime shaping it, revealing what it carried in silence from the beginning.

Every choice of instruments opens one world and closes ten others. That is the principle of creation. Renouncing the most possible, so only what is truly necessary remains.

And then there are the hidden choices. The ones the audience doesn’t hear consciously, but still feels. The chord progressions, the accompaniment patterns, the length of themes, the way you vary them. It’s there, inside those secret decisions, that a musical identity is built.

I believe deeply in this discipline of choice. I believed in it enough to impose, for three albums, a single color: the piano. Nothing else. By conviction. The piano alone taught me how to grow inside a constraint, how to go deep without scattering. It gave me immense possibilities, and real limits at the same time. And it is that tension between the two that forged my signature.

But everything in my life has changed. Before, I could only paint with the colors that were accessible to me. Today, they are all available. A full orchestra, a choir… what existed yesterday only as a dream is now within reach. It’s magnificent. I fought with the hope of one day standing in that position, with new means of expression. And it’s dizzying. When everything becomes possible, the risk of getting lost is immense. In music as in life. Total freedom is the enemy of clarity. You have to concentrate even harder not to disperse. Many have been lost because they had access to everything.

That was the main challenge of my new album, using new colors to give my message a different scale. After two years of searching, I did it, and I’m proud.

This album has a different touch from the first three. But when you hear it, I think you’ll recognize me. The palette has changed, but the hand that paints stayed the same.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

There are works that take years to be born. Months to explore. Weeks of moving forward blind. Nights of doubting, starting over, throwing everything into the fire, and searching in the ashes for what survived. Craftsmanship rests on a belief: that time spent building is never wasted. That what is built slowly carries something speed will never be able to reproduce. A slow gesture in a world that no longer is. This discipline of patience has become, today, an act of resistance.

The world is running at full speed. What does that speed take from us? Peace. That inner peace we need to truly feel things, to let an emotion settle, unfold, pass through us. We run from one moment to the next, at the risk of living in none of them. We consume without digesting. We accumulate experiences without fully living them. And after a while, we don’t even know if what we feel belongs to us, or if it’s the noise of the world resonating in our place.

When was the last time you gave yourself that moment? A moment you chose, where you decided to empty everything out, to impose calm, to listen inward. A moment for you, fully, with no sharing. A moment where the mind stops rushing, where the body finally lands.

I love waiting for a film for months. The first teaser, the casting announcement, the first stolen images from a set… I love preparing the grand arrival. I choose the right night, the right theater. I protect that moment. I prepare for it because I know the way I receive a work is part of the experience. The state we’re in when we welcome art changes what art gives us. And that first moment, the moment of discovery, happens only once. The second it’s lived, it’s gone.

I decided not to release any single before my fourth album comes out. I’m doing it out of conviction. This album was composed as one single work, one single breath, one single journey. Like cinema. Each piece exists because of the one that comes before it and the one that follows. Once you’ve discovered it as a whole, you’ll be able to choose your favorite tracks. But for the first listen, each piece must be heard in its context. Each one places you in an emotional state that makes you more receptive to the next.

In April, I’m asking you to listen to it all the way through. From the first track to the last. In order. Without interruption. Give yourself that moment.
Choose the right place, the right disposition. Make this listen an appointment with yourself. 63 minutes of music. It’s the time it takes me to tell you everything that words alone cannot say.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

A sudden change of life, even a positive one, carries a kind of vertigo.
You fight for it. You prepare for it every day. You hope, you manifest, you pray. And then success finally arrives, and nothing is the same. The ground under your feet changes texture. People look at you differently. And yet you are still you. Except everything around you has moved.

I had this conversation for hours with a friend in Los Angeles. He has lived that shift too. He’s an athlete, he reached the highest level in the world, in performance and recognition. A path that commands respect. We found ourselves speaking without filters, without the mask our professions demand.

He asked me if I remembered what it felt like to be a kid and have nothing. When resources are missing and nobody is waiting for you, you have no choice but to decide, by yourself, exactly what you want. A certainty settles in, almost animal: you move forward to survive.

We grew up in distant worlds, in different disciplines, with many points in common. The feeling of being different since childhood. Of seeing the world with an offset nobody around us could name. And of turning that difference into fuel.

We talked about that hunger, waking up every morning with the burning desire to give yourself more than anyone else. Nobody was going to do it for us. And every day won, every day of progress, even a small one, was one more day closer to that new life, the one that could have never existed.

Then the conversation changed its tone.

We spoke about loss. About how someone you miss is felt even more strongly at midnight, when the city sleeps and the stars shimmer above the hills. About how victory tastes different when the person you wanted to show it to is no longer here to see it. There is a before and an after in the life of anyone who has known loss. The world continues. Days go by. But at midnight, alone, you feel an absence that nothing fills.

Do we really deserve all the good things that happen to us? And if so, do we also deserve the bad? I don’t know. I don’t believe life works like a system of merit. But the question itself says something about us. It says we never fully made peace with what we received. Or with what we lost. And maybe that peace doesn’t exist. Maybe living with that tension, between gratitude and doubt, between pride and the guilt of having survived our own story, is proof that we haven’t forgotten where we come from.

On my next album, you will hear the piece that crystallizes that conversation, those reflections. It’s called Midnight In California. It captures the thoughts of those whose destiny has been shaken by a sudden ascent, and the questions that remain when the lights go out.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

An album is a testimony. It captures who you are at the moment you write it. Your understanding of life, the discoveries that transform you, the trials you go through. You don’t really choose what an album contains. You think you choose the tracks, the keys, the tempos. But life dictates. An album is a photograph of who you are becoming. And once it exists, it doesn’t move. It stays there, anchored in time, faithful to the person you were when you wrote it or listened to it.

I feel like I can’t move forward until I’ve put down the notes that match my reflections on life, my emotional states. As long as what I carry inside hasn’t found its form in music, I can’t turn to the next chapter of my existence.

PLANET, LETTER, NOCHE. Three solo piano albums. Together, they form a trilogy.

PLANET is a reckoning. My first album, the one where I wanted to present the world with an identity worth hearing. To find it and to find myself, I traveled the world. Each track carries the name of a place, but secretly, each place carries a feeling. Le Caire is a love story. Seoul, revenge. La Havane, a seduction. Medellín, a proud declaration. Ocean, a sense of peace. PLANET is everything I had been up until that point, gathered in one place for the first time.

LETTER is an encounter. My second album. I met you. You were there, in front of me, in packed venues, in messages, in your lives where my music had started to exist without me. That changed everything. The essential word of this album is LOVE. The relationship between an artist and an audience is that of a love letter. We write to each other. Me with my music, you with your emotions. You receive these notes and bring them to life in your own stories. And the love you’ve given me by truly bringing my music to life, I try every day to give it back by rising as an artist, a performer, and a composer. By offering you new emotional paths.

NOCHE is a contemplation. My third album. The most faithful to a single state: that of the night, mysterious and poetic. I wanted no track to break from that atmosphere. Everything suspended in a gentle darkness. NOCHE closes the first trilogy of my career.

Three albums, three versions of myself. I didn’t know, when I was composing PLANET, that I was starting a trilogy. I didn’t know that LETTER would answer the solitude of PLANET, or that NOCHE would come to ease the intensity of LETTER. It’s only looking back that the design appears. In the moment, you move forward blind. You compose what you carry. And it’s only after that you understand the path.

The fourth album, which you’ll discover in two months, opens the doors to a new era. New perspectives. A new adventure.

Music creates anchors in a time that slips through our hands. It sets markers that help us locate the passing of time, to make sense of it. The image that comes to mind is that of a birth. A newborn you watch grow, who makes you rediscover life year after year, as their relationship with the world unfolds. For a newborn, every minute matters. Then every day. Then every week, every month. This difference in time between a child and an adult has always stunned me. We live in the same time, but it doesn’t hold the same meaning. Childhood years last centuries. Adult years pass like seasons.

To this time that disappears, music is a remedy. An album freezes a moment. It says: here, I was. This is what I felt. You can listen to it again in ten years, in twenty years, and that moment will be intact. Music doesn’t age. It waits. And when you come back to it, you’re the one who’s changed and it’s precisely that gap between who you were and who you’ve become that gives music its power.

PLANET, LETTER, NOCHE. Three testimonies.

And soon, the beginning of a new era.

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Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

A few weeks ago, I shared a first list of films that matter to me. Your responses made me want to keep going.

Cinema is part of my inner world. It’s how I fuel my creativity, how I understand feelings I explore in my music, how I find emotional keys when I’m stuck on a piece. I started composing hoping to write the soundtrack of my life, and yours. It’s such a vital part of who I am that I want to share more of it with you.

Here are ten films that changed me, and for each one, why.

In The Mood For Love - Wong Kar-wai
Two people cross paths in a hallway, again and again, and with each passing something grows between them. Wong Kar-wai films desire through suggestion. He never shows the scene you’re expecting. He shows the one after, when the emotion has already passed but the body still remembers. This film taught me the elegance of what goes unsaid, what silence tells.

Amadeus – Milos Forman
Of course, there’s the rivalry between two geniuses. One celebrated, the other consumed by an admiration he can’t help but feel. But what fascinates me most in Amadeus is that extraordinary scene where Mozart writes his music, and the director manages to convey the full orchestra playing inside his mind.
This film lets you understand, even without any musical knowledge, what it means to hear inwardly as a composer.

Betty Blue – Jean-Jacques Beineix
Raw passion. Fire. A detonation. Love here doesn’t negotiate, it consumes. Béatrice Dalle embodies an energy I look for in certain compositions: one that can’t be controlled, one that doesn’t ask permission. Beauty on the edge of destruction.

Devil’s Advocate – Taylor Hackford
A film about the seduction of power. About the way the world tests you by giving you exactly what you want. Success can pull you away from who you are. Keeping your feet on the ground even when life transforms entirely is so important to me that I take films like this as life lessons.

City Of Angels – Brad Silberling
An angel who gives up eternity to feel. To touch. To hear. The scene where he feels rain on his skin for the first time has always haunted me. I think about that on stage sometimes. In my life, I often escape into my imagination, and playing the piano is choosing every night to come back down to earth.

Whiplash – Damien Chazelle
The pursuit of perfection pushed to the point of pain. The search for the breaking point where greatness is born. The violence of the process, the limitless demand. So many scenes that echo my own past.

The Great Gatsby – Baz Luhrmann
Excess as philosophy. The grandeur in this film is shot with equal grandeur. But behind that excess, what I find beautiful is what we’re capable of sometimes to reach a single person.

Edward Scissorhands – Tim Burton
The artist who can’t touch the world without hurting it. Edward is a creator by nature. He sculpts ice, he shapes gardens, but his hands, his tools, are also what separates him from others. I’ve asked myself the question about the loneliness of the one who creates. The more beauty you give, the more isolated you become?

Memoirs Of A Geisha – Rob Marshall
Beauty as armor and as prison. Sayuri learns to turn every gesture into art: a glance, a movement of the hand. A grace that demands relentless work. Elegance is a discipline, and behind every moment of perfection lie years of sacrifice.

The English Patient – Anthony Minghella
Everything in this film is a wound that refuses to heal. The flashbacks arrive like melodies you can’t forget. Time isn’t linear. Not in life, not in cinema, not in music. We believe things follow one another, that there’s a before and an after. But that’s not how memory works.
A scent, a light, a few piano notes, and suddenly you’re ten years back, in the middle of a scene you thought you’d forgotten. Time doesn’t pass. It folds in on itself, and the moments that truly matter always come back, out of order, when you least expect them.

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Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

PLANET made me travel. LETTER gave me a way to write to you. NOCHE pulled me into the mysteries of darkness. Three albums where I spoke through the eighty-eight keys of my piano.

Joy, grief, love, adventure, anger, wonder. Every emotion had to find its place inside the possibilities of a single instrument. I learned to paint with its colors, until the day, two years ago, when I felt my ideas spilling beyond the piano.

So I opened a new door, into a world I had never explored. I wanted to hear what my melodies would become if they could breathe through the voices of a symphony orchestra.

It took months to reshape my musical language. Months of studying, listening, learning how each family of instruments speaks to the others. Writing for orchestra is learning a new language. The orchestra is a world of its own.

First, the strings. Violins, able to sing with bravery or tremble with pain. Violas, darker, carrying a warmth that is unmistakable. Cellos, with a register close to the human voice, able to weep and to console. And double basses, anchoring everything, giving the orchestra its weight, its gravity.

Thanks to Lina, my sister, a violinist, I’ve always been especially sensitive to strings. I love their lyricism, I love to give them a leading place inside the orchestra.

Then come the aerial flutes, the melancholic oboes, the velvet clarinets, the round, warm bassoons. Among the brass, I have a weakness for the horns, majestic. In my writing, trumpets and trombones add color and force, and percussion steps in when an emotion needs to tip over into something else.

Each instrument has its role. And the work of the composer is to make them converse, then to make them yours. I was searching for my orchestral signature. To do that, I understood I had to unlearn.

At the piano, I control everything. Touch, nuance, tempo. I am the only captain on board. With an orchestra, I have to trust. I have to imagine what seventy musicians, each with their own story, will do with my notes.

There were entire nights spent on a few bars. Every decision counts. One note too many and the whole thing becomes heavy. One missing voice and something invisible, yet essential, disappears.

The orchestra demands humility. Some of my ideas, as charming as they felt on the piano, simply didn’t work once orchestrated. I learned to let them go, so I could find better ones.

I went to the Rudolfinum in Prague for the first time.

That hall, built at the end of the nineteenth century, is a monument. Woodwork and gold everywhere, a ceiling rising like a cathedral, and an acoustic warmth that feels almost natural.

We set up forty-eight microphones to capture the whole ensemble. Forty-eight listening points, to keep margin in the mix, to translate the room itself, so every section can exist without crushing the others.

When I heard the orchestra play my compositions for the first time, something shifted inside me.

These melodies I had imagined alone suddenly carried a scale I had only dreamed of. The strings breathed. The woodwinds sang. The brass opened the space. And the piano found its place in the middle of it all, surrounded, carried, magnified.

I can think in orchestra now.

This album contains moments where the piano stands alone, as it always has.

And it contains moments where seventy musicians accompany it in conversation. Two worlds, living side by side. Answering each other. Intimacy and immensity. The drop and the ocean.

I feel grateful, because this project asked me to grow. To step outside what I controlled, to explore new colors. To accept that the piano could become the starting point of a wider journey.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

Some of you have been reading since the first letter. Others joined along the way. As the album approaches, I wanted to take a moment to gather everything I’ve shared with you, letter after letter.

Here is what you know.

You know this album was born in Los Angeles.

In a house above the clouds, facing a view of the entire city, I composed for two years. Every morning, I opened the windows and played at sunrise. The golden light of California seeped into every melody.

You know the album contains twenty tracks.

Twenty chapters. Twenty stories. Twenty scenes of the same narrative.

You know the first track is titled Sunrise In Your Eyes.

It was born on an almost surreal day, when clouds covered the hills and my house floated in a white sea of light. This melody will open the journey.

You know the last track is titled Your Eyes On Sunset.

The album opens with a sunrise and closes with a sunset. A secret symmetry I envisioned from the very beginning.

You know that Your Inner World is a tribute.

A piece written for someone who is no longer here, but whose inner world continues to exist, peaceful, sheltered from time.

You know the Prague Philharmonic Choir will appear on this album.

For the first time on a solo album, I’ve added other ingredients beyond my instrument alone. These pure voices, coming from Prague, transformed a difficult moment into something beautiful.

You know that The Knight Ceremony is a waltz.

It tells the story of the day France knighted me. An elegant, nostalgic melody, with an almost dramatic introduction.

You know the album will be released in April.

The exact date, I’m keeping that a little longer.

Let me tell you more about where this album took shape.

The composition happened in Los Angeles. But for recording, mixing and mastering, I wanted this project to breathe across the entire world.

Here are the studios of my fourth album:

The Village Studios, Los Angeles
Where it all began, in this temple from the 1920s where the walls still vibrate with the artists who left their souls behind.

Westlake Studios, Los Angeles
A legendary place, touched by the greatest.

Jungle City Studios, New York
In the heart of Manhattan, a different energy, more electric, more urban.

ICP Studios, Brussels
The studio I’ve been going to for years, the one where I feel most “at home”.

Atlas Studio and Artistic Palace, Paris
A return to the roots during my time in France.

Metropolis Studios, London
A world-class studio where the album’s mastering was entrusted to Matt Colton, Grammy Award Winner.

The Dvořák Hall, Rudolfinum, Prague
A concert hall with exceptional acoustics, transformed into a recording studio. A setting of stone and wood where every note finds its perfect resonance.

Los Angeles. New York. Brussels. Paris. London. Prague.

Six cities. Eight studios. One album.

There is still much you don’t know.

The album title. The sixteen other tracks. The stories they carry. The surprises I have in store for you.

But you already know enough to understand one thing: this album is the most ambitious project of my career so far. I’ve never worked this long on a single body of work. I traveled far to find its truth. I’ve never felt such certainty that something important was being born.

April is approaching.

I will keep revealing clues in the weeks ahead. And when the album comes out, everything you’ve read in these letters will finally make sense.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

Colors, textures, volumes, the way a garment catches light in a specific place, all of it carries information. It extends what I do not say on stage. A way to make the invisible visible, to let an intention be understood before the first note.

This week, Paris Fashion Week left me with images that kept living inside me, until they translated into music.

I saw the unveiling of the new Louboutin collection. There was a feeling of a turning point in the air, the sense of opening a new page, of committing to a new gesture.

I saw the Drôle de Monsieur show. The founders, Dany Dos Santos and Maxime Schwab, come from Dijon, and their slogan, Not From Paris Madame, carries something proud and light at the same time, like an elegant answer to every imaginary ceiling. I also loved seeing my friend Patrick Habirora walk. I introduced them during my showcase last Sunday in the Grand Foyer of the Opéra Garnier, and I felt that natural connection, that moment when two worlds recognize each other without effort.

And then there was Yohji Yamamoto. People often say his shows protect, they wrap you, they take human fragility seriously, as if clothing became an intimate armor, a uniform for crossing our era without losing yourself. I had the honor of meeting him. His aura is real, calm, almost physical. We understood each other in very few words. I was struck by that energy some masters carry. A presence that does not crush, it lifts. You leave with the desire to work better, more honestly, more simply.

I ended the week on Friday with the creations of Louis Gabriel Nouchi. He dressed me for my run of Olympias in Paris in 2023. His show, alien, rhythmic, dark, with a sci fi energy, embraces the night, strangeness, desire, the future. With him, fashion can become a complete fiction.

I want to use this Piano Scene on fashion to salute the commitment and creativity of my stylist, Antoine Négrevergne. Behind these moments on stage, there is a responsibility, to face the unexpected and the urgent without wavering, without tightening up, while relieving me as much as possible. Antoine is a precious ally, a full time member of my crew for three years now. He has never stepped back from any of the challenges that have come our way.

Last night, I played at the United Nations in Geneva, still soaked in everything I had seen walk past my eyes this week. During the performance, I found myself thinking that intense weeks like these, when you truly live them, they feed you. They leave new materials in the mind, new colors. I do not speak on stage. But I watch. I collect. And I return to the piano with a wider narration, a sharper silhouette, as if everything around me were quietly coming back to strengthen the stories I tell through the keys.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

On stage, something takes over. I’m no longer quite myself. I stop thinking. I’m carried by an impulse that guides me, and I move forward. It’s only in the days after that I truly begin to realize what happened. The body comes home, but the soul stays there, somewhere between two gilded walls. And in the calm that follows the storm, I want to return to what made the second act feel like magic: those voices from Prague.

I met the Prague Philharmonic Choir to work on Your Inner World. I told you about that piece in Piano Scene #14. For the first time, on this fourth solo album, I’ve added other ingredients beyond my instrument alone. Over these two years of searching, my compositional language has grown, and I felt the need to widen the musical colors I wanted to paint with.

Prague is a city that feels as if it was built to the sound of classical music. I decided to go there to record. Culture is everywhere there. I’m especially drawn to the city’s sculptures, they look as if they’re carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.

The musicians I had the honor of meeting in Prague hold themselves to a demanding standard without arrogance. A level of work that doesn’t brag, it simply shows. It made me think that a city’s depth is reflected in the artists it shelters.

I organized many sessions in prestigious places across the Czech capital. The more music I captured there, the more I wanted to create. I would fly back to Los Angeles, isolate myself with the ideas that kept me alive night and day, and then get back on a plane to record with the musicians I had chosen.

I grew especially attached to one choir. By focusing on scoring for their angelic voices, I was able to shape something beautiful out of difficult moments I lived through in 2025. Composing for a choir is composing for a collective light. It’s no longer solitude speaking, it’s an ensemble. They are thirty immensely talented young women, and I wanted them with me on stage in Paris.

Act 2 at the Opéra Garnier was their moment. The music opened up, the piano stopped being alone. What moved me was their gaze. They walked through the opera’s corridors the way you step into a dream you don’t dare touch. They had worked with an impressive rigor without ever losing that magic in their eyes. And you could hear it. Because their voices are pure and sincere.

On stage, you cheered them. And after the show, they came to see me. They told me they perform often, but that it was the first time they had experienced applause like that, that they would remember it for the rest of their lives. I wanted to thank you for the welcome you gave them. They will carry it in their hearts forever, and I know they will build themselves on that memory.

Deep down, what I’ve been chasing from the beginning goes beyond music. I don’t want only to play. I want to create moments that gather people, and that hold. Moments that become landmarks for those who live them, and for those who step onto the stage.

This fourth album is revealing itself to you more and more, clue by clue. And I like including you while everything is still in motion.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

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Your ticket to Stade de France

A hallway sound, a knot pulled tight in my stomach, shoes too clean, that strange feeling of being expected… As I get ready to perform this Sunday at the Opéra Garnier in Paris, a door swings open in my memory and, without warning, I am back at the exact instant when something was decided inside me, an instant whose impact would run through my entire life.

I remember the preparation for that first audition. It had become a rite. That day, my mother put the world on mute. Anything that could stir me up, distract me, crowd my mind, she pushed aside with firm hands. As if, for a few hours, I had earned a privilege. Like a birthday. I felt special, protected so I could give the best of myself. And that kind of protection, when you are a child, becomes a strength. I walked into life as if, secretly, my mother had signed a pact with fate. In exchange for my effort at the keyboard, the rest was supposed to be made easier.

My mother chose what I would wear. She was proud and tense at the same time, and yet never afraid. She was never intimidated by adversity. She moved forward with resources you will not find in any manual: the instinct to defend, the instinct to push, the instinct to believe. When it was time to stand her ground, she knew how. For us. For our dreams. So that no one could make us feel we were not in our place.

She dreamed of those magical places, of that culture, of that invisible literature hovering around the great composers, of those ornamented halls where even the air seems to be telling a story across centuries. She lived our progress as if it were a family ascent. As if every step we climbed was a victory over everything that could have held us back.

And then came the calm before playing. A calm I still know today, but which, at that age, felt almost supernatural. The room, silent, waited for me to place the first note. I felt my heart in my hands. I felt the piano before I even touched it.

The piece itself left no mark in my memory. I only know what I saw after. That change in faces when something touches you. That discreet but undeniable shift. As if the music had moved a piece of furniture inside the people who had offered me their attention. And I, as a child, felt valued. I felt that what I was doing had weight. That a performance, even a simple one, could rearrange an inner world.

When it came time to bow, I was proud to have held on. Proud to have been worthy of the practice, and of the effort around me. The pressure dropped all at once and made room for a physical joy, a happiness that moved through the body like warmth. I told myself: I did it. And everything became bright, even the most ordinary details.

What moves me, looking back, is how completely insignificant it all was. An audition room, a child at a piano, a few dozen people. Nothing, objectively. And yet, for me and for my mother, it was the center of our concerns. The center of the world. I find it beautiful, that human ability to make certain hours sacred. To protect them, to prepare them, to inhabit them together. These moments mobilize us. We love each other in the building. We help one another. We protect one another. We give ourselves permission to believe.

That day, I understood I wanted to become a great pianist. Not out of vanity. Out of loyalty. Loyalty to what I had felt. Loyalty to that changed look in the audience. Loyalty to my mother, to her way of holding up the world so I could hold a melody. Loyalty to that child who, after the bow, understood that the piano had just made him a promise, and that from then on, he would spend his life earning it.

Pre-Order the Album

Sincerely,

Sofiane Pamart

✨ Lire cette publication en français ici → Piano Scenes (FR)