It is said that when Krishna played his flute, the Yamuna slowed, cows stood still and peacocks fanned their feathers in quiet awe. Lorris Assadian, better known by his stage name Plumes, was not aware of this when he began playing for animals. There was no mythology guiding him, only curiosity and instinct.
He soon learned that the animals respond. Some walked towards him, pressed their heads against him, rubbed their faces on his guitar, and lingered. Others gathered close to listen.
Plumes, 29, is a French singer-songwriter, whose performances for animals with his flamingo-pink guitar have gone viral. Raised in the suburbs of Paris, he began his musical journey on drums in elementary school. “Later, around eleven, I switched to guitar because you could only choose one instrument, and guitar is easier to travel with,” he told THE WEEK.
It was during a particularly low phase in his life that Plumes developed a connection with animals. “I was kind of lost,” he said. “I was busking in the subway, and people weren’t really paying attention. They were just passing by, not looking at me. I didn’t really know whether I should keep going with music.”
To clear his mind, he moved to the countryside—his grandmother’s house in Valence, around 500km from Paris. He had once read that cows enjoy music. “My grandma doesn’t have a farm, but there are farms near her place,” he said. “The area is always peaceful—there are more cows than people around the house.” So, Plumes decided to play for the cows.
“I was not really expecting anything,” he said. “I thought maybe they would just lift their heads and it would be cute.” But their reaction surprised him. “They came to me and started rubbing their heads against me, [continuing] for almost an hour,” he said. “That was special and it completely changed my perception of animals.”
The experience felt different, he said, because there was a real connection. “I kept thinking about how mistreated animals are—so many are being slaughtered as we speak,” he said. He became vegan from that day.
Plumes wanted to share these moments online. “I thought, ‘How can I ever abuse animals?’,” he said. “When you pay for a system that abuses them, you abuse them as well. I didn’t want to do that again. I hoped people would think the same way if I shared the videos.” The videos spread rapidly. He soon began receiving invitations to perform at sanctuaries and zoos across Europe.
Over the past three years, he has played for numerous species, including endangered ones. He notes that many animals seem to enjoy classical music—especially horses and cows. Elephants respond more to low vibrations and are particularly receptive to drums. “However, I’m not great with classical or drums, so I just play my songs,” he said. “It’s folk-pop. But it feels like they enjoy it.”
He always plays love songs for animals. “Because intention is important,” he said. “Animals are intuitive.” ‘Flou’, an original composition, has been performed for at least 50 species.
He says serenading animals opened his eyes to the dark realities of human behaviour. “When I visit sanctuaries, most of the animals have been rescued from mistreatment,” he said. “Some were abused horribly—there was a pig that had been sexually abused by its owner. There are also animals rescued from slaughterhouse after workers grow attached and save them. Those are beautiful stories, but they make you think about the animals who never got that chance.” Recently, he played for tigers once kept as pets by a celebrity.
There have been many magical moments. One involved a pig who refused to come out of his shelter until hearing the music. “He was rescued from the meat industry, where animals are given [steroids and hormones] to make them grow fast,” he said. “They often develop health problems. This pig didn’t want to move. I played and he finally came towards me.”
When Plumes saw the pig again, a year later, he was doing much better. “The people at the sanctuary worked hard to make that happen,” he said. “Seeing the health of an animal improve is always special.”
He is now collaborating with researchers studying animal behaviour and artists and activists working in animal welfare. He notes that animals brought him well-being. “I used to be stressed about singing for humans because I was afraid of judgment,” he said. “I worried about singing a wrong note. With animals, I just focus on connecting. They don’t care if I make a mistake.”
That lesson, he added, has begun to shape how he performs for people as well. “Now I try to do the same with humans—connect and have a good time,” he said. “If I sing a wrong note, I don’t care as much any more.”