12:00 AM 5th June 2026
In Conversation: Celine Cairo
No doubt my dog Kapitein. He is the cutest little rescue. He has abandonment issues, is not great with kids and can be really grumpy to other dogs, and I couldn't imagine life without him. He brings me so much joy; it's hard to put in words.
If each song on Panacea were a room in a house, which track would be the kitchen at 2am and which would be the room nobody’s allowed into?
The song Panacea would be the kitchen cause it's the place everything else evolves around – just like this album was kind of built around that song. The most private room would probably be Paris. There are some hard, complex truths in that song that, if I weren't a singer-songwriter, I probably wouldn't have told anyone about, ever.
You recorded parts of the album in intimate spaces across the Netherlands; did any unusual sounds, accidents or interruptions accidentally make it onto the record?
Absolutely. We recorded the piano in our living room, so there were cars driving by and little squeaks from the old pedals. You can hear how noisy and imperfect it was in the intro and outro of I am I. It's obvious it's not a super clean studio sound, but that's what we wanted, for texture and a rawer sound.
Our dog also messed up lots of takes by spontaneously shaking, haha, but those recordings didn't make it onto the album.
Woman features your grandmother in the video. What's the best piece of life advice she’s ever given you?
I think the biggest lessons have come from watching her live her life. She's always talking to people and makes friends wherever she goes. Her kitchen is still a meeting place for the whole family, and she always finds ways to surround herself with artistic, interesting figures. She loves reading philosophy, drinks great wines, works out, loves music and always knows what's going on in the world. The biggest lesson I take from that is to live as fully as you can, to keep a young and flexible mind for as long as you can.
You describe some of the synths on I Am I as “amazingly ugly fake strings". Are you secretly drawn to sounds that are a little broken or imperfect?
Yes and no! My taste is often quite simple and classical; I'm no avant-garde type, but at times I do love a bit of contrast and imperfection to balance things out. The '90s strings are a great example. They're so ugly they're kind of cool, I think. I hope that's how people will hear it too, but who knows... Let's see if it becomes the most skipped song on the album or not.
Vertigo feels like the album’s late-night moment – what's your ideal soundtrack for a 3am drive through Amsterdam?
Absolutely, that's how it feels to me too. I love listening to electronic, instrumental stuff, especially when I'm cycling. I love Glue by Bicep; it's very cinematic and dark.
You’ve built your career entirely independently. What’s been the hardest part of that? And the most enjoyable?
I am still madly in love with making music; everything comes from that source of energy. But so much of an independent career is doing other things – social media, managing people, paying bills - that's just not always easy or fun. I feel less and less like I have to prove myself to the industry, especially now that I focus more on my own fans, but rejection still stings sometimes.
The most enjoyable part is the freedom. Creatively, artistically, in how I spend my time, who I work with... I feel incredibly grateful I get to do this as my job.
You’ve performed in places ranging from Carnegie Hall to tiny writing spaces outside London; where do you feel most creatively free?
Everywhere and nowhere – I guess it's true that you take yourself with you everywhere you go. I feel most creatively free when I'm in a good space mentally, and that really can be anywhere, truly. Whenever I get to ride my bike, be outside a lot, and surround myself with good people, I tend to be happy, and from there, creativity comes naturally.
Which song on the album changed the most between its first demo and final version?
Probably Cycles. When we wrote it, it was a four-to-the-floor kind of radio road song. We changed it to this slower, more mysterious, spacious atmosphere and production after I just couldn't find the right way to sing it. It just didn't quite land until we changed the vibe.
What’s the most unexpected artist or album that influenced Panacea?
Definitely a mix of Moby, Keane, early Colplay and Dido. I don't know how unexpected any of those names are, but I wanted to build the productions around my voice and mix the sonic worlds of when I was a teenager, and my taste was probably shaped the most by what I've grown to love in recent years in terms of sound and mix.
Your music often feels cinematic. If one song from Panacea belonged in the soundtrack of a film, which song would it be and what kind of scene would it soundtrack?
I'd love Feel to be the title track of a big movie one day. That song was so visceral and intuitive and has a mythical side to it, but it also is a solid pop song with big choruses. I'd imagine a movie about someone with a troubled past, somehow making their way out of those circumstances. I imagine an epic open ending where you don't know where the person is going next.
That I really liked to aim higher, really try and bring out the best in me and the people around me. I've always known I wanted to continue to make music and grow, as a person and in my career, but I didn't know I'd love a big challenge and putting everything on the line for what I believe in this much.
The album ends with Swallows and the idea that “land is near.” Right now in your life, what feels like the “land” you’ve finally reached?
Beautiful question. I think for me it's about embracing the moment I'm in now. Not fighting too hard for all things I don't have, but loving everything I already have in my life. My parents are still around; I have a great partner, amazing friends, and a healthy body. In the past I've wasted a lot of time always trying to change, to be somehow different, to be better. I'm trying to live by this album's core message: to let go of the idea of a panacea and be in the present moment without feeling the constant need to change it.