Camille Lienard - C'est Pas La Nuit Qu'elle Dort

Welcoming Camille Liénard to our stage with C'est pas la nuit qu'elle dort

At Le Boui-Boui, we love nights when the room hums with anticipation before the first spotlight even warms the brick. Hosting Camille Liénard with C'est pas la nuit qu'elle dort is exactly that kind of evening: intimate, alert, and alive to the smallest flicker of expression. From our vantage backstage and in the booth, we see how neatly her energy fits our venue’s close-up atmosphere—every eyebrow raise, pause, and sideways grin has the weight of a revelation when you’re only a few steps from the performer. Our audience comes here for contact and craft, and Camille’s writing is precise enough to reward the front-row focus while playful enough to ripple to the back tables. She takes the stage light and makes it a companion, turning our low ceiling and warm acoustics into a conspiratorial whisper between her and the room. We program shows with a bias toward presence and personality; C'est pas la nuit qu'elle dort promises both in abundance, building its rhythm in the moment and making Le Boui-Boui feel like the apartment of a clever friend who can’t switch off her brain.

What you’ll feel, hear, and laugh at in the room

The title C'est pas la nuit qu'elle dort tells you a lot about the engine of this hour: the restless mind and the comedy of wakefulness. From our soundboard, we can hear how Camille’s timing lives on those late-night microbeats—the micro-panic of a thought that won’t go away, the relief when the room recognizes itself in a very specific image, the way a whisper can be funnier than a shout. Expect observational threads about the city after midnight, the chorus of appliances humming like a roommate, and the unruly to-do lists that balloon the moment the lights are out. She has a habit of playing with language and rhythm, stretching a phrase until it snaps back with a laugh that surprises even the person laughing. Because our space is compact, you’ll also catch the quick glances and throwaway asides that sometimes become the line of the night. We keep our lights honest and our sound clear so you can catch those delicate moments when she flips anxiety into play, stress into choreography, and a passing irritation into a set piece that feels hand-crafted for a Lyon evening at Le Boui-Boui.

Right now, Camille is clearly in an artistic phase that rewards repeat listeners. Each performance at Le Boui-Boui carries the spine of C'est pas la nuit qu'elle dort, but she actively reshapes the details, tuning transitions and testing elastic new beats on the fly. In recent sets, recurring bits in her current hour often appear with playful tags she throws out on stage—snippets that fans have started to recognize—like La to-do à 3h04, a jittery cascade of tasks that grows increasingly surreal; Notification fantôme, where a phantom buzz derails an entire chain of thought; and Le voisin du dessus apprend la batterie, a miniature epic about thin walls and rhythm found where you least want it. We’ve watched those routines evolve night by night, the edits getting tighter, the call-backs nesting more elegantly. From our corner of the room, it’s a pleasure to witness her sharpen the mechanics—resetting a premise with a single beat of silence, layering a second payoff one step after you think the scene is over, and inviting the crowd into a conspiratorial rhythm that makes the set feel co-authored. If you enjoy seeing an artist in motion, close enough to hear the thoughts click into place, this is the moment to catch Camille Liénard at Le Boui-Boui—alert, inventive, and very much awake.