Leyla Romanova’s latest single, “Lettres sous la pluie” (“Letters Under the Rain”), unfolds like a black-and-white film scene softened by rain. This isn’t just a tribute to Paris — it’s an immersion into its emotional undercurrent. The kind of Paris where lamplight flickers on slick cobblestones, where an accordion hum drifts out of a quiet bistro, and where longing hangs in the air heavier than the mist.
Drawing inspiration from the timeless elegance of French chanson — the evocative storytelling once carried by voices like Édith Piaf, Jacques Brel, and Charles Aznavour — Romanova captures that same refined melancholy while filtering it through her own cinematic lens. The city doesn’t merely frame the narrative; it participates. It sways with the rhythm of the night and mourns in sync with falling rain, becoming a silent confidant to unfulfilled hopes and half-finished love stories.
What makes this release particularly fascinating is Romanova herself. A multigenre composer with three 2026 GRAMMY-longlisted works spanning symphonic, electronic, and pop-jazz territories, she refuses to be boxed into a single sound. With roots in classical composition from her studies in Baku and artistic inspirations like Tchaikovsky and John Williams, she seamlessly bridges orchestral tradition and contemporary experimentation. No matter the genre, her music carries a strong cinematic pulse — every piece feels destined to underscore a story on screen.
With “Lettres sous la pluie,” she leans into a softer, Parisian-hued mood — intimate, reflective, and steeped in atmosphere. Press play, and suddenly you’re wandering through Saint-Germain with a memory you can’t quite let go of.
Leyla Romanova has crafted a chanson-inspired reverie that feels both timeless and strikingly cinematic.
