Some songs are written in a moment. Others take years to reveal what they are truly meant to say. For Lamice, “To My Angels” belongs to the second kind. What began as a deeply personal attempt to process the loss of her grandmother eventually became an 18-year journey through grief, memory, acceptance, faith, love, and the changing ways we learn to live with the absence of people who once meant everything to us. By the time the song finally reached the world, it was no longer simply a song about loss. It had become a reflection of everything that happened between the first note and the final release.
That long journey is central to understanding Lamice as an artist. She does not treat creativity as something that has to be rushed into a release schedule. Her work is allowed to breathe, mature, and change alongside her own experiences. “To My Angels” began when grief was still too overwhelming to express, but further losses within her family, encounters with friends experiencing grief in their own ways, and the passing of time gradually changed her relationship with the song. She came to understand that grief does not necessarily disappear. Instead, we learn to carry the absence while continuing to carry the love.
The interview offers a deeply personal look at that transformation. Lamice speaks about the final moments of losing someone, the helplessness that accompanies farewell, and the difficult contradictions grief can hold. Pain can exist beside love. Absence can exist beside presence. Sadness can exist beside hope. Rather than trying to remove the sadness from “To My Angels,” she allows it to become the starting point of something more comforting. The song moves toward the idea that the people we lose can remain part of our lives through memories, values, lessons, faith, and the love they leave behind.
That emotional journey is also reflected in the song’s visual world. Filmed over several years and across different places, the accompanying video uses changing seasons, sunrises, sunsets, and landscapes to express the fact that grief has no fixed timetable. Healing cannot simply be scheduled. It unfolds gradually, one day at a time. The Mediterranean coast of Southern France became particularly meaningful for Lamice, reminding her of Lebanon and the homeland of her departed loved ones. It was also there that unexpected creative connections with British artist and producer Joe and Belgian sound engineer Marin helped bring the long-standing project to life.
Yet there is another fascinating dimension to Lamice’s artistic identity: she chooses to remain anonymous. In an industry where visibility is often treated as essential, she deliberately places the music ahead of her physical image. Remaining in the shadows allows listeners to approach the songs through their own emotions and experiences rather than through a predefined image of the artist. It also gives her a private creative space where sincerity can matter more than trends or visibility.
Her identity is equally shaped by movement and cultural exchange. French and Lebanese heritage sit naturally alongside the sounds and experiences gathered through journeys, friendships, collaborations, and life across different parts of the world. Pop, electro, Oriental, African, Latin, and rock influences can enter her music without needing to compete for a fixed label. This idea of a borderless musical identity is closely connected to her belief that a song should be allowed to discover its own identity rather than being forced into a genre or market before its story has fully developed.
Beyond music, Lamice also exists in the world of digital entrepreneurship, authorship, and independent creation. She describes herself as a multidisciplinary DIY artist, involved in songwriting, videos, and digital storytelling, while collaborating with producers who bring their own musical identities to the work. Technology provides the bridge between her ideas and her audience, but music remains the sanctuary where emotions and memories can become something shared.
Ultimately, this conversation with Lamice is about much more than the release of a song. It is about what happens when an artist gives an emotion enough time to evolve. After nearly two decades, “To My Angels” has moved from a private expression of grief into an open invitation for others to remember, mourn, reflect, and perhaps find comfort. Released on her late mother’s birthday, the song carries an even deeper personal significance, but Lamice understands that once it reaches listeners, it can become part of their stories too.
In this interview, Lamice opens up about the extraordinary journey behind “To My Angels,” the changing nature of grief, the role of faith and memory, the freedom of anonymity, her French-Lebanese identity, her borderless approach to music, and the relationship between creativity and technology. Most importantly, she reveals an artist who believes that music does not always have to provide answers. Sometimes, its greatest purpose is simply to sit beside someone in their silence and remind them that they are not alone.
“To My Angels” was written over an extraordinary period of 18 years, meaning the song has lived alongside your grief rather than simply being written about it. What changed within you over those years that eventually allowed the song to become complete?
When I began writing “To My Angels” after losing my grandmother, the pain was too overwhelming to express through words or melody. Further losses within my family, and seeing friends grieve in different ways, added new emotional layers. I came to a conclusion that we learn to live with absence while carrying the love of those who have left us.
Time, acceptance and unexpected encounters eventually allowed the song to become complete. On the Mediterranean coast of Southern France, I found a warmth that reminded me of Lebanon, the homeland of my departed loved ones. Meeting there, Joe, an established British artist and producer, and Marin, a Belgian sound engineer, made me feel that the time had come to bring the song to “Life”. They both connected to its meaning and its multimedia vision of music, video and only digital presence.
After nearly eighteen years, the song had found the right people and moment to pay tribute to our departed loved ones and, hopefully, offer comfort to grieving hearts.
The song follows an intensely emotional journey from the final breath of a loved one toward hope. How did you approach writing about loss without allowing the sadness to become the only message, and when did you realise that love could ultimately become the song’s emotional destination?
The sadness is not denied, because it is real. The helplessness we feel when witnessing the final breath of someone we love is a profound human experience. It was important for the song to begin honestly in that place.
As the years passed, It felt like that grief exists because love came first. Although someone may no longer be physically present, our relationship with them does not simply disappear. It continues through our memories—and, for some of us, through faith—as well as through the lessons, values and love they gave us.
That understanding changed the emotional direction of the song. Its destination became not an escape from grief, but its transformation into love and hope—the comforting possibility that our departed loved ones may still be watching over us and guiding us like angels.
You describe “To My Angels” as your most personal release and hope it can become a source of comfort for people who are struggling to express grief. Did you write the song primarily as a way of processing your own emotions, or did you always imagine that someone else might eventually find their own story inside it?
All my creative work—lyrics, music, videos and digital presence—begins with my own experiences and need to express emotion. I take time to understand and transform them, while observing the experiences and emotions path of others, before sharing them as hope, encouragement, reflection or entertainment.
My song “A Question of Time,” for example, took nearly 30 years to become a multimedia creation combining music, video and digital content.
“To My Angels” began as a personal and solitary expression of grief. Over time, its purpose grew beyond my story. I imagined listeners seeing their own loved ones within it, using it as a tribute, or singing out their pain alone in their cars.
If the song helps someone express what they have carried silently and feel less alone, it has fulfilled its purpose.
Lamice
Grief can change dramatically over time, with moments of acceptance existing alongside memories that remain incredibly painful. How has your relationship with loss evolved since you first began writing this song, and can you hear those different stages of grief within the music?
My relationship with loss has become less about trying to leave grief behind and more about learning to live alongside it. I feel that time does not erase the pain or the memories; it changes their place within us.
I wanted those different stages of grief to be heard in the song and seen in the music video. Both begin with the fragility and helplessness of a final farewell, then gradually move toward light, faith and hope.
Filmed over several years in different places around the world, the video follows this journey through changing seasons, sunrises and sunsets. These images convey that grief has no timetable and that healing cannot be rushed—it unfolds one day at a time.
You want “To My Angels” to become the kind of song people instinctively reach for when feelings become too deep for words. What do you believe music can communicate about grief that ordinary language sometimes cannot?
Based on my experience, grief can hold many contradictions—pain and love, absence and presence, sadness and hope. Music allows these emotions to exist at once. A melody, a breath or even a moment of silence can express what words alone cannot contain.
When someone is grieving, if they don’t know what to say or even want to speak, a song can meet them in that silence, give space to whatever they are feeling and, perhaps, open a path towards hope.
Your decision to remain anonymous is a particularly interesting part of your artistic identity. How does removing your physical image from the conversation change the way you communicate emotionally with listeners, and has anonymity given you a greater sense of creative freedom?
From the beginning of my musical journey, I have preferred to remain in the shadows so that the music, rather than my image, can speak. Hopefully this gives listeners the freedom to focus on the words and emotions, and to develop their own relationship with each song.
Remaining unseen has also given me a certain creative freedom. It creates a private space where I can make choices based on what feels sincere to me, rather than on visibility or trends. In a way, staying in the background helps me share some of my most personal emotions through the music.
I understand that remaining anonymous may make it more challenging to gain visibility and grow an audience. However, other artists have shown that there are many ways to connect with listeners. For me, this simply feels like the most natural and honest way to share my work and art as of today.
You describe yourself as an artist shaped by your dual French and Lebanese culture, while your music moves freely between pop, electro, oriental and Latin influences. How have the different cultures and musical traditions that surround you influenced the emotional language of your songwriting?
I try to remain a free creator in a borderless musical and digital world.
My French and Lebanese cultures naturally shape how I feel, think and create. Friendships and journeys—from Brazil and Australia to Cyprus, Dubai, the USA, Saint Barthélemy, the French Riviera, the UK, Norway etc.… —have enriched them. My music is a flirtation with the sounds and cultures I have encountered throughout my life.
The producers I have had the honour of working with also bring their own influences. Alain Sawaya contributed his Oriental and African background, while Joe added his British musical sensibility on “To My Angels”. These exchanges allow each song to move freely between pop, electro, oriental, African, Latin and rock influences.
With “To My Angels,” the Mediterranean inspired the video, while Joe’s British and rock influences added another dimension to the production. Place, heritage and collaboration all became part of the song’s emotional identity.
You have built a life that combines music, authorship and digital entrepreneurship, yet you describe music as your sanctuary. What does creating music give you emotionally that the business and technology side of your life cannot provide?
As a 100% digital artist, I create in two connected worlds: artistic creation and digital entrepreneurship. In both, I enjoy imagining and bringing ideas to life, from songs and videos to new ways of connecting directly with an audience.
Artistically, I work as a multidisciplinary DIY creator across most of the process, from songwriting to videos and digital storytelling, while music producers bring their own identity to the melodies. I see these elements as parts of one complete artistic work, carrying the song’s message across different formats. Music is where it begins: it transforms emotions and memories into stories that may connect with people I will never meet.
On the business side, my work involves vision, strategy, adaptation and problem-solving. As an early digital music entrepreneur, I began exploring independent digital music before the creator economy had a name, experimenting with new ways to create, operate and connect directly with listeners. This direct-to-fan model gives me freedom, ownership and room to innovate.
Both sides are creative, but music offers something different: a space where I can listen to my inner truth and explore how it might connect with others. Technology provides the bridge, while music remains the sanctuary at the heart of the journey.
Your philosophy of “music without borders, without labels, free of trends” feels especially relevant in an era when artists are often encouraged to define themselves through a specific genre or market. Why is artistic freedom so important to you, and how do you decide what direction a song should take without allowing outside expectations to influence it?
For me, artistic freedom means allowing every creation to find its own identity. Beginning with a genre, market or trend in mind, may limit the song before I have understood what it wants to become.
It all starts with a story and a melody; the rest gradually emerges. I give the work the time it needs to breathe and mature, while being open to collaboration and the ideas of the talented people around me.
Freedom does not mean creating without discipline or feedback. It means making sure that outside expectations do not replace the work’s original purpose. Trends may pass quickly, but sincere human emotion can make a creation timeless and meaningful across cultures, generations and borders.
After carrying “To My Angels” for nearly two decades, what does finally releasing it mean to you personally? Now that a deeply private experience has become something you are sharing with the world, what would you want someone grieving today to feel when they hear it?
“To My Angels” was released on my late beloved mother’s birthday, giving it an even deeper meaning. Personally, it feels like completing a long emotional journey and paying tribute to my beloved departed ones.
Once released, however, the song no longer belongs only to me. Its purpose is to offer listeners a space where they may recognise their own stories and make the song theirs—as a memory, a personal tribute or an expression of emotions they cannot put into words.
If the song helps them feel less alone or offers even a small sense of hope beyond the farewell, then it has fulfilled its purpose.
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