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It’s been five years since Peter Peter’s breakthrough album, Une version améliorée de la tristesse, was released, with the native Quebecer decamping to France in the interim. However, the artist has finally released his third album, Noir Éden, which has received glowing reviews since its release—thanks to its deft melange of pop structures and experimental sonics. Peter Peter kindly took the time to discuss the new album, songwriting, and more.

Image credit: Paul Rousteau

Noir Éden just came out last week here in Quebec, and has been out for about month in France, though reception on both sides of the Atlantic has been positive. Is there a sense of relief now with the record finally being available that you can no longer control how the public may perceive it?

Yeah, I’m kind of relieved, for sure. It’s been a while since I’ve released an album, because I’ve been writing and travelling a lot in the last few years. I was working hard on this album, and I went through a phase where I was sometimes in doubt about it. After a while, even when it was recorded, it took a while before [it was released because] it took longer than expected to market it, so I had to wait longer. We postponed the date three or four times, so I’m very relieved and very happy that the audience can encounter it. Now it’s a real album that’s released out there.

With the album finally out, do you plan on taking a break from songwriting and creating music altogether, or are you someone who always has the itch to write?

Back then, for the first album, [songwriting] was a part of me. When I moved to France, I had no apartment [as] I was moving from one place to another, so it got out of me for a while. I couldn’t record demos where I was, etc. So, I wasn’t writing much, [and] that’s the part that was terrifying [to] me, that I had to write an album and I hadn’t written in so long. Usually though, I was just writing systematically all the time. Now it’s back on since I’ve been writing Noir Éden; I haven’t stopped writing now.

Is it sort of like exercise for musicians? If you don’t use those songwriting skills or work out those muscles, do you feel you lose it the longer you don’t write?

Yeah, you know probably the self-confidence and stuff like that, you got to take care of everything for sure, and you got to exercise it. Although, it’s the same thing with muscles—if you exercise too much you can have issues. If you don’t exercise, it’ll be in tough shape. I was kind of rusted because... I won’t say because it wasn’t natural, but it wasn’t a part of my everyday lifestyle anymore. I was [thinking], “maybe I’m not going to be able to able to write better songs than my previous albums.” I was thinking too much. When you don’t do things you just think about things, you think too much. So, I just had to get on and write, and like I said, now that it’s back on I’m very happy; I feel I’m in a good shape now.

You’ve said that the overarching narrative of the album is of “someone who loses touch with his feelings, with reality, who always has the impression of being alien to himself, of not existing for real.” How much of that is autobiographical, considering the solitary nature of the songwriting and recording process for the album?

It’s very autobiographical for sure, but it’s also like a fabulation of it. I wanted it to be more cryptic, so it can be interpreted more freely. It’s what I felt for so long. When I moved to France, I was looking for loneliness and a kind of exile. I wanted to begin with that and go [for] further introspection and see how far I could go with that. I felt that I went there very [deeply], because every time I was trying to go back to reality or more of a social life, I was trying to see if I was deep inside my head [with] my thoughts. I wasn’t very social anymore, so it’s totally what I went through when writing the album. The album is an album about writing an album, staying home and writing an album and going deep in your mind and trying to get something out of it. I wasn’t seeing people, so I felt like I was losing connection with reality.

Considering that France is where you’ve set up homebase for this album, and considering that you’ve moved around quite a bit in your life, is France finally home for you, or do you see yourself continuing the life of the nomad and moving every few years?

For a while when I moved to Paris it was what I figured; I was like “Wow” [when] moving from one city to another. But after a while when I realized I wasn’t writing much [after] moving so much, I got anxious about my future. Now I have my city life in Paris and I’m very happy to have my small studio in a small apartment where I can write and evolve. I feel it’s not a goal anymore, moving [to] another big city, but for a while I thought so. I thought after I would maybe be tired of Paris, but now I feel very happy to have an apartment and the city lifestyle so I can write many albums. I feel at home when I’m in Paris, but I don’t feel like I’m French. I’m not French, I’m still Canadian. For a few years I guess, at least one year or two I would say I would live there.

“Loving Game” is the album’s catchiest pop moment, featuring a chorus written in English. What was behind that decision, and how do you chose what language a particular song or verse/chorus will be in?

What happened was, my publisher asked me if I could write a song for Céline Dion, because she was looking for young songwriters for her new project, and I decided to try it. I started to write a song [but] I never sent it because I felt it wasn’t good enough. After a while, I listened back to the song, and it had that pop synthesizer melody [sings melody], and I was like “Yeah, that’s cool.” I could throw everything away, but this is a good melody. I was probably singing it in the street and the shower and I was thinking [the melody] could be just vocals. I was doing yelps or yogurts, where you just say whatever, and I decided that I was mostly hearing it in English. I thought it could be a cool gospel song, and I decided to write a French verse [where] I would sing the verse and then a gospel choir would sing the chorus and it would be awesome. It’s not very Quebecer or Canadian, it’s very French. I thought it was funny doing that, because in France they don’t have that sight of French/English, because here in Quebec we probably do have an issue with language, so they don’t have that complex over there. To me it was like the ultimate bilingual pop song. For a while I was wondering if I would put it on an album, but it was part of the story so I decided to put it there.

I read you crediting Roch Voisine for the English-French set-up of songs like “Loving Game.” Is “Hélène” your go-to ballad?

[Laughs] Yeah, probably. That’s what I had in mind when I did that probably, for sure. I don’t remember the chorus; it’s the bridge that’s in English I think. You know, doing a bilingual song here is very cheesy, but I wanted to... l’assumer, [to] just put it out there, I don’t care.

Considering that “Loving Game” was originally written for Céline Dion, do you ever think about branching out and writing songs for other artists, perhaps being a songwriter for hire?

Not for a while though, since I’ve gotten into writing again and I’m in this state where I want to write for me. Maybe one day I’ll be so bored writing and recording albums that maybe I’ll do it, but for now I feel I want to work for me. It never really went well when I tried doing too many things at once. I’m that kind of artist that when I have something too specific I have a blockage, I just can’t do it. Maybe one day I’ll be a professional songwriter, but now I’m more sensitive to write.

Francophone artists that I’ve interviewed, as well as artists that record in English but are Francophone, often say that writing songs in French, particularly pop songs, is a more difficult task than to do the same in English. Do you find it difficult writing pop songs in French?

Yeah, for sure. Usually when I do some yelps, some yogurt singing, it’s always going more towards English, it sounds more English than French. For sure English is the more natural way for me to write pop in general, and our ears got really used to it. But when I was younger I was living in Quebec City and we had a band. We were singing in English but we were all French and we weren’t good in English. We had all those grammatically weird sentences and syntax. So, to me now it’s just easier to write in my mother tongue. Now I feel it’s easier in French because I don’t have to emulate English as if I was perfect in it. But for a while when I’m doing yogurt singing I’m doing [it in] English. So, it was easier to try to sound better in French because it was more natural than it was to pretend I was English.

My last question then is about that cat on the album cover. What’s its name, why did you include it on the cover, and will it be in any of your future projects?

[Laughs] Okay, the first question: His name is Humphrey [but] he’s not my cat. There’s a song on this album called “Venus,” and she was like my daughter. She was my ex’s cat, the girl I was living with when I wrote the album. Venus is a big part of this album, because I was writing by myself, I was staying home by myself and Venus was there and she heard all the songs and she was always with me. So when we had the photoshoot, the photographer asked me, “Hey, did you want me to bring a cat?” And I was like, “No, I don’t want a cat on the set because it’s not Venus,” and I don’t want a cat because of all those Internet kind of things. So he said no problem. We were supposed to actually shoot press photos; it wasn’t for the cover or anything. But when I got on the set he had brought a cat for some reason, and he said, “I know you didn’t want one, but my assistant has a cat and we’re going to try it.” So, they put it on my back and we sat there for a few seconds and we had maybe four photos. After a while we got the photoshoot going, and I look at the photos and when I saw the picture I said, “Okay, this is weird, but I think it’s going to be my album cover.” I was looking for something, but someone was working on the illustrations. If I probably had it in mind it wouldn’t have been a good photo, but it was just out of nowhere and the cat got there, and I loved it when I first saw it. So, it’s why it’s the cover, and I don’t think Humphrey’s going to be in my future projects [laughs].

Noir Éden is out now on Audiogram. Peter Peter will be performing March 8 at Club Soda as part of Montréal en Lumière.

This Monday, two CJLO contributors, Genaro Peña Cruz and Paul Brown, had the chance to see Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears as they performed at La Sala Rossa, as part of the Montréal en Lumière festival going on until March 11. Here’s the story of one single show, told by two different music lovers.

Genaro Peña Cruz’s story

I gotta say—this week started on a pretty a solid note. Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears are currently on tour promoting their latest record, Backlash, and on Monday night, they performed at La Sala Rossa. The Austin-based septet can gather an audience on a weeknight and play a string of songs—packed with infectious grooves—that will get them hooked.

The opening act Dams of the West delivered an energetic performance that featured some easy listening and indie power rock tunes. They were the perfect warm up before the headliner. Come around 10:30 p.m., Joe Lewis and the boys took the stage. No hype, no nonsense beforehand. They immediately kicked off with “PTP,” the lead single from their new album, and it manifested itself as a headbanger anthem. Everyone was on their feet, sinking their teeth into the song.

As the evening progressed, they played many of their new songs: “Wasted” showcased Lewis’ powerful range as a frontman in this upbeat ballad, with a combination of James Brown’s vocals and Jimi Hendrix’s showmanship. It also featured transverse flute parts that added lots of texture to the song, beautifully complementing the vocals. “Golem” highlighted the funkadelic influence in the band’s sound and put the audience back on the dance track.

Despite the band played many songs from the new album, the set was well balanced—the oldies were there and they keep sounding better over time when performed live. “Young Girls” sounded like a call for rebellion à la Stooges, with Lewis playing guitar with his teeth—need I say more?

“Mudslide” is a rockabilly tune straight out of the Little Richard era. The band transferred its energy from the stage to the floor, making it feel as if we were in a 1950s high school dance doing the boogie (with cellphones). A hot mess indeed.

What was probably the most fun to watch was how in tune these guys were with each other. Watching them live, their musicianship and their symbiotic relationship became evident— while Lewis unapologetically played funky licks, the rest of the band jived with style and grace; “Big Booty Woman” featured duelling solos between guitar and saxophone, while the rhythm section provided steady grooves that made it hard to not strut. The collective spirit on stage was infectious, and hit everyone on the floor.

After 20-plus songs and two hours later, the crowd was still yearning for more—the band quickly came back on stage for a second encore. Now, I’m not a huge fan of encores, but honestly, I still had an appetite, and I’m glad they came back because it was definitely the pièce de résistance of the concert. They broke into an extended blues jam, and segued into “Bitch, I Love You.” It was the perfect song to close the evening. Calculated move? Who cares. It was badass. Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears have songs for days and they delivered a mixed setlist to a crowd who wanted to shake off the Monday funk. A-thank you!

Paul Brown’s story

On the way to the venue, I was a little worried after seeing the disappointing numbers of attendees on the Facebook event page. How could such a great band not be making more waves than this, especially after so many great local shows over the years, including such high profile opening slots for The New York Dolls and Sharon Jones & The Dap-Kings? Seeing three middle-aged men trying to hock one ticket outside the front door did not ease my mind.

Upon entering Sala Rossa and seeing a packed room, however, several things became abundantly clear: (a) Facebook is not some all knowing oracle dispensing the truth for all who look upon it, (b) it had been far too long since I had seen a show at this majestic venue, and most importantly, (c) great music will always be found by music lovers.

Spending so much time going to überhyped shows—many times highly unwarranted, I might add—as well as living partially in the arrested development world of campus life, it is sometimes easy to forget that there was a time before social media. It was refreshing to see a packed house full of people who did not feel constantly compelled to share with the digital world what they were doing on this particular Monday night. The mixed crowd seemed to have found this band through different means, yet we all came to the same conclusion, one that bridged any gender or age gap that might have existed in the room: Black Joe Lewis & The Honeybears are simply one of the greatest bands touring today.

The love in the room was almost palpable and with a brand new album, Backlash, released just two weeks prior, the excitement level was high. It had been a few years since their last show in Montreal, and everyone was ready to get down. At 10:30 p.m., the seven members strode onto the stage, took their places, and immediately launched into a house-rockin’ version of the latest single, “PTP." The frenzied pace of the opening song bled right into the next one, “Freakin’ Out”, but quickly gave way to the pleading soul of “Wasted.” This ebb and flow of the speed with which the band would deliver their brand of music would continue for the next two hours, with more emphasis on the up than the down.

The ease with which the band slipped between R&B rave-ups, gutbucket blues, and heart wrenching soul is a testament to all the years spent on the road and playing around their hometown of Austin, Texas. Yes, some members may have changed over the years—and they even dropped the Honeybears name for an album—but the core remained. As long as they are led by Black Joe Lewis, the spirit will always be there.

A truly great frontman who has never allowed himself to be pidgeon holed into any specific categories or genres—he’s as much punk as he is anything—Lewis has always oozed confidence on stage. But this time, it also appeared that he has found an inner peace with being the leader, much like Bruce Springsteen with the E Street Band. There is no question as to who is the boss, and therefore the music can become the sole focus of every member of the group. Throughout the show, he also pulled out many classic Texas showman tricks, like playing his guitar with his teeth during “Golem” or the sax vs. guitar duel with tenor sax player Jason Frey during “Hipster.” This only proved that he is just as interested in having fun as playing great music.

Without much banter with the crowd, the setlist was a perfect blend of the new album—with 10 of the 11 songs making the cut—and old favorites like “Come To My Party”, “Sugarfoot” and a medley of “Livin’ In The Jungle” and “Booty City” (which I’m pretty sure is the song during when a bra was thrown on stage). It would have been hard to tell the difference to which ones were old and which were brand new, by the reaction from the crowd.

To bring this amorous night of sweaty rock ‘n’ roll to an end, the band returned to the stage for an encore of erotically charged anthems; first an ode to Joe’s preferred type, “Big Booty Woman,” followed by his tongue-firmly-planted-in-cheek love song, “Bitch, I Love You.” It was the perfect ending to the party, and with that the crowd made their way to the exit, ecstatic and exhausted. The band had given us all we could handle, and we can only hope that it will not be another three years before they give it to us all over again.

Album: Intents and Purposes: New Sounds for the Music of Tomorrow

Artist: The Bill Dixon Orchestra

Year: 1967 (2016 re-issue)

Label: Superior Viaduct

I first came across the Superior Viaduct label when I bought their re-issue of a William Burroughs spoken word record. “They’re releasing some good stuff,” said the cashier, and he made a face to indicate they were doing a good job. Given that this fellow was typically distant and contemptuous, I figured anything that might put a smile on his face must be worth checking out.

Indeed, the folks at SV know what they’re doing; the Burroughs record was excellent, and their catalogue looked promising to say the least. Long story short, I’ve been keeping an eye on them ever since and when I saw they were re-pressing Bill Dixon’s Intents and Purposes (an obscure little treasure of mid-sixties free jazz), I was quick to reserve myself a copy at the store. The record came packaged in a standard glossy sleeve with the label’s usual understated black sticker,  and I have to say I appreciate this total lack of braggery—what confidence!

I’ll admit that I expected this record to sound good before I bought it. Even so, I was taken aback—this is impossibly innovative stuff. To say that music sounds “like a tortured animal” is all-too-often used in the pejorative sense. Here, however, I use it as a very real compliment. Indeed, this is an album of hostile, almost perpetual climax that disdains convention. Dixon and his orchestra do to jazz music what Burroughs and Joyce did for literature: total decomposition of standard form.

Intents and Purposes calls to mind such other peculiar jazz albums as John Coltrane’s Om and Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew; even The Soft Machine and early Pink Floyd endeavours come to mind. I can’t help but feel, though, that Dixon’s work somehow manages a tenderness or gentleness that these other works fail to achieve. His is a guided mayhem. This album is inviting despite its aggressivity, and is a joy to listen to.

Of the pressing and recording quality, too, I can’t speak highly enough. Horns are rich, textured and colourful, and the percussion is crystal clear. This disc offers an airy, open presentation without a hint of clinical transparency. Though each instrument is granted its own place within the soundstage, none is anchored there—the stereo image is fluid, dynamic, and orbital. I noticed two or three brief moments of what could be surface noise, but given the overall excellence of this record, I would not be surprised if these were imperfections in the source material, revealed (as they said in the early days of the CD) “by the high resolution of this disc.” Achieving such clarity on vinyl is no small feat. These musicians have created something alarmingly original, the producers and engineers involved in the original taping were marvellous, and Superior Viaduct are at the top of their game with this re-issue. No doubt, this is a sexy little record.

Hosted by Michael Foldvari

Stories by Michael Foldvari & Patricia Petit Liang

Produced by Michael Foldvari