Here is a singer of the new century for whom the voice is instrument before being vector of ego. His vocal references are feminine, perhaps because his medium voice can take him to heights inaccessible to some of his colleagues. He confesses, however, his attachment to Chet Baker for the celestial emotion aroused by his timbre and phrasing, and for David Linx with whom he worked five years at the Royal Conservatory of Brussels. But it is the elegance and poetic vertigo in which he draws us from the first breath of his voice that quickly marks this disc with the seal of talent. In the middle of an original repertory for music and lyrics, Robert Wyatt's only Alifib refers to a known field, where this young man invites the listener to a great leap into the unknown and a journey into His musical intimacy. It must be said that Loïs Le Van is well helped in his quest for grace by a trio without a battery where each musician is wonderfully in his place. Sylvain Rifflet (saxophone and clarinet), Bruno Ruder (piano) and Chris Jennings (double bass) escort the singer in divine fashion until the fascination of the listener, if the latter is as audacious as the artist. This is probably why Patricia Barber says of him: "This is the one missing in the world of male vocalists, it can break your heart."