Montréal-based pop experimental artist N NAO, born Naomi de Lorimier, is redefining herself and her identity through sound.
Signed to Montréal-based indie label Mothland, N NAO uses music as a personal outlet and a means of self-exploration, bridging Québec’s anglophone and francophone communities by singing in both French and English while fostering connection and community through her art.
At the Festival de Musique Émergente (FME) in Rouyn-Noranda, Abitibi, N NAO discussed everything from identity and drawing inspiration from the elements to seeing technical tools as extensions of her creativity and using the Earth itself as her muse.
Reading her insights, it’s clear that inspiration is everywhere for N NAO—the world around her becomes, quite literally, her oyster, a space she explores and shapes through sound.
Photo Credit: Lea Taillefer
How would you describe your musical identity and what makes it uniquely yours?
Yeah, that’s interesting, ’cause I feel like my creative process is super intuitive. I feel like I’ll understand what I’ve done just right after I’ve done it, because I’m so in the moment when I’m I’m doing it.
So intuitive could be a way to describe my musical identity. I’m really inspired by my dreams or things that are more felt in the body, rather than really based in the head.
Yeah, for my last album, I wanted to make music for the body, you know, not only for the brain. More to be felt in the hips and in the heart. It’s music from the heart and for the body. Also, inspired by nature.
Everything is centered around the vocals, mostly because when I first started N NAO, I only performed a cappella sets using my looper. The rhythms are based on my breath and my vocals, layered through the looper.
Because it’s a short loop, there’s this mix of trance, hypnosis, and rhythms, with a lot of samples of like field recordings that I do when I go on hikes or something. So a lot of organic samples, but with a super electronic approach.
I can say, when I’m in the studio, I see my computer as another part of me, or as an instrument.
Where do you usually draw inspiration when creating new music, and how do those influences shape your lyrics and production choices?
A big theme for my music is the elements. My first album that I made was about water.
As I said earlier, when I’m making music, it’s super intuitive. So I was really drawn to water. I was swimming a lot during the making of the record and filming a lot of sparkles and water, and just really into that element.
Afterwards, when I did the old series of songs, I was like, okay, that’s an album about water, mostly, and other stuff, like love, friendship, relationships with my sisters, my friends.
My last record that I just released was about fire. But for me, the element is a wide umbrella under which I make my decisions. So it just helps me in the studio, like “what would fire do within that situation?”
For the next album, I’m really into air. I love clouds.
Zooming in, it’s about my relationships with people. I’m a very sensitive person, so I experience things intensely.
So music helps me just express myself. I feel like it’s a blend of an intellectual, philosophical approach with a super sensitive one.
I like to draw on non-musical references or inspirations because when I’m in the studio, I want to make music that’s my own. I don’t want to replicate something; I want to create something new.
That’s why I like to get inspired by movies, discussions, or landscapes—because it’s not musical; it’s extra-musical.
Can you talk about a specific reference and what it inspired?
For example, there’s an old song I made called “Le plus belle chose” or “The Most Beautiful Thing.”
I was just looking out the window while it was snowing, and there was a snowplow clearing the streets in Montreal. I got inspired just by that dance—the machines removing the snow—and I was just watching.
Also, when I’m in the creative process for a hook or a song, I loop myself, so I can spend an hour on a melody or a loop, playing it in a really repetitive way.
So that’s an example, just like looking out of the window and then getting touched by this image and trying to translate it in my own words, you know?
When I’m singing—because it’s so repetitive and I can stay for a long time in the music—I like it to be soft in a way.
I’m also a person who likes contrast. When I’m making melodies or the path for the melody, I want it to be super soothing for me, and when it’s right, it can then be soothing and meditative on stage.
Which musical influences have pushed you in this direction, giving you permission to explore your sound—like Björk, for example?
I was born in the ’90s. It was so big and freeing to see Björk just make another album with, I don’t know, another idea—like a flute ensemble or an album that’s more industrial—and just her voice is what keeps it all together, you know?
For me, Björk is a good example because I like to look up to people who are so unrestricted.
Also, Jenny Hval—she’s super conceptual in her lyrics and her stage performance, but also super intuitive; the hooks she sings are really catchy.
I kind of like this blend of experimentation and super catchy melodies.
Tirzah is another example, a singer from the UK. A friend of Dean Blunt, part of a whole crowd that isn’t really into selling to the mainstream.
Her vocals are amazing, and the lyrics are super personal. There’s a really intimate aspect to it, but also in the production, there’s a reflection on it—it’s not just surface-level. It’s really personal, and what she’s doing is something you can relate to because it’s all about the voice and being vulnerable.
She’s not on social media; she’s doing her own thing. I kind of like that energy because music nowadays is so fast, and I like being organic and slowing things down a bit.
How do you navigate being vulnerable in your work while still keeping space for creativity and imagination?
I feel like I want to be as vulnerable as possible because, in my lyrics, I know my voice conveys proximity, but sometimes what I’m writing feels vague.
For my new music, I want it to be more detailed, more precise. As in, more personal to my story, where I’m sharing more. I tend to be shy sometimes, and I want it to be increasingly transparent
So I’m working on that, but I feel like with your voice, you can’t lie to anybody.
Like if you feel sad, if you feel joyful, you will hear it in the voice, and because of how I produce my voice, I like it to be super translucent. I like to play with effects. For me, effects are just another instrument.
But if you have like a strong vocal performance, afterwards, you can play with it, and everything is fine.
Are there any dream collaborators—artists or creatives, local or international—that you’d love to work with?
Wow, so many. Sometimes it’s hard to know if I’m putting boundaries on myself because, you know, you have a dream and you don’t know if it’s realistic, so you’ll, like, say to yourself, “No, no, no, don’t go there,” just so you don’t get disappointed in the end.
I can talk about maybe a realistic collaboration that I might do in the future, like Helena Deland. She’s a super good Montreal artist that I met a few years ago when we were both starting our projects, and we talked about maybe doing something together. So that would be one of my dream collaborations, Helena.
But outside of Montreal, I really like claire rousay, who is an ambient artist. I saw them play in Québec two years ago. It’s like an emo-ambient act, and I would like to go more in that general direction, maybe, because I have it in me—the ambience.
So maybe I want to push it more, and working with ambient artists would be good.
But yeah, it’s so hard to tell because I have so many ideas. It’s just about opening my mind to the possibilities.
Also, Kassie Krut—they’re so cool. They’re from New York, and they’re founding members of Palm, which was a band I really loved when I played more guitar.
Now they’re doing more electronic stuff, and I feel like they’re the coolest ever. I would be stoked to do something with them.
I like so many kinds of music, I’m not only a part of one genre. I would love to play with them all.
How does Montreal—or the places and memories connected to it—inspire and inform your work?
That’s interesting because I have to step back to really think about it. Montreal is such an interesting city. I’m a Francophone in Montreal, and I feel like that’s kind of a thing.
It’s an interesting question because I feel like there are so many separations in the city, you know—Anglo and Franco, different scenes—and I feel like I want to make bridges between them.
As a Montreal artist, I’m trying to build bridges between things. Also, because I’m playing in more mainstream bands and I come from a more experimental, underground scene, that’s another bridge I want to create.
For those discovering your music for the first time at FME, what do you hope they take away from your performance today? How do you want them to feel after listening?
I want them to feel warm inside. I know I can tend to be emo, sad, and melancholic sometimes, but today I would love to just bring some joy and some light into people’s bodies and minds.
So that’s for today. Maybe it’s because of the day I’ve had and my mindset driving up here—I was seeing the landscape, and I was like, “Yeah, it’s beautiful.”
I just want to really appreciate the moment, be present, and slow down. I know it’s the end of the festival, so if I can just bring some good energy and a breath of fresh air
How has your creative process evolved, and what lessons have remained with you?
I feel like I’m getting more and more confident in myself.
But it’s funny, because when I started, I was really in the shadow of everything I did. I wanted to make music for myself and only a few people, and I was, again, really shy about my identity as an artist.
After that, I tried a lot of things, you know. I tried the guitar, a more folk approach, and I tried to make more ABA forms within the songs I wrote.
Now, I feel like I’m just starting over—more in the free, experimental, ambient form. But with all my pop and chorus experience, I feel like I’m blending contrasting elements.
But it’s good to just put your roots in the ground and really embrace what you are. I want to be proud of it, you know?
What role do you hope your music plays in listeners’ lives? Do you aim to comfort, inspire, provoke thought, or something else?
I feel like when someone tells me after a show or after listening to my album, “I got super inspired,” that’s the best compliment ever.
When I really enjoy a movie or an album, that’s the feeling I get too—like, “Oh my God, I want to do my thing.”
Like, this person is so free; I want to free myself. So, yeah, to free people in a way, as I’m trying to free myself—that could be my answer.
By the way, how long did it take you to learn production?
I’m a super curious being, and I—I don’t know. I started with the computer when I was in Cégep, I was around 18 or so, and I was just doing it, you know?
I had some classes, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was just being super intuitive. Ableton is kind of simple, so I just picked up the basics and then had fun. I started sampling myself and went from there.
Because I’m spending more and more time in the studio for my job, I learn something new every day. I’m working on my own project and playing in other projects.
But I feel like, because I’m a super curious being, I’m always asking questions to my friends, like, “How would you make this?” or “How would you do that?”
I’m not super shy about beginning something. Maybe that’s helping. I might be more shy beginning in sports or other areas, but music is my language.
I feel like I’m not afraid to ask questions, to be curious, and to be a beginner, even if I don’t feel confident.
I’ve never really mixed any of my albums myself, and I feel like it’s nice to collaborate afterward.
For the new music I’m making, I spend time on the computer, and once I’m bored with what I’ve created and completely tired of it, I go to my engineer. We have a discussion, and they help me figure things out. It’s important to have that kind of relationship.
Anything new and upcoming that you want to like tell people about?
So for my new compositions, that’s the air era I mentioned. So I’m really into clouds, into that feeling of lightness, like levity.
Just a light feeling, like just like floating.
Because life is so heavy, sometimes, I feel like it’s a nice feeling to make music for like an elevated self or just like a floating.
Did you make any specific sonic choices to give your music a floating, airy feeling?
Yeah, now I’m really into my tapes because I have so many archives in the studio of me walking in the forest or just in the streets—me traveling in Paris, being in the subway, and talking to people.
I don’t know, with new friends, I’ve collected so many field recordings. I want to sample them, and with the air concept or theme, I want it to be super light, like a cool response in a way.
Even eco-friendly—by recycling my sounds and not using entirely new ones, you know? I’m really into that.
When you think about air, you think about climate change, and nature is intertwined with it. So recycling old sounds of mine, maybe like in a club, but without all the lower end, focusing more on high-end sounds.
My favorite part of creating something is being at the very beginning of it
What advice would you give to underground artists who want to release new music but feel scared?
I feel like it’s always better to get it out than just save it in the vault forever. Just do it. It’s so important to share and be together. I feel like music is a good way to meet people and just build a community.
So yeah, try to get out of your solitude and reach out. Don’t be scared of failing; it’s normal to do shitty stuff, and at some point, you’ll create something good.
You just have to be ready to, as we say in Québec, ‘péter sa coche’—break your head on the floor: just jump, fall, and then get back up, you know?