Was La maladresse intended as warfare? Was it a battle waged by a woman who was “already blasé, wounded, broken and finished” as Leïla Huissoud admitted, exhausted by the turmoil of life as an artist, tossed about by the vicissitudes of existence. Pierre Boulez once observed that music was not a chain of fortuitous events. For Leïla Huissoud, failure and errors now stand as the most vibrant scores. There amongst her beloved lost souls, there with all the fringe-dwellers and victims of life, the author-composer-performer from the Isère region in south-eastern France set about writing her third album: La maladresse. This was a surreptitious way of returning to the “ballet” of everyday life. With Antoine Graugnard as co-author, co-composer and accompanist, she embarked on what she considered to be the first meaningful musical production by an author. Leïla Huissoud has opened up the studio to the gentle sound of the cello, the syncopation of the double bass, to the suspended notes of the piano, the breathing of the brass (trumpet, saxophone, trombone and tuba), the deeper tone of the bandoneon, to undisciplined percussion and the rifts of a musical saw. Such symphonic effects offer an illustration of the great orchestra of life, in a wealth of our serendipitous lapses.