Étienne Côté’s theatrical flair seems to intensify with each new project. In 2021, under his LUMIÈRE guise, the Montreal singer and multi-instrumentalist released the retro-pop-rock journey A.M.I.E.S.A.M.O.U.R. Two years later, GLAM signals the return of that alter ego—a more exuberant and unabashed second album that explores the ups and downs of Côté’s profession. “I have trouble not making concept albums,” he tells Apple Music. “It’s an album that talks about life as a musician, about having your own rock band. This time, LUMIÈRE reflects on his career.” Written in Quebec and Paris, and produced with Alexandre Martel (Anatole), GLAM’s vintage sound picks up where the first album left off. “It’s very ’70s again, but more rock, more glam,” says Côté. “I think it’s more candid too.” Here, LUMIÈRE guides us through his rock saga, one scene at a time. “Rock Band” “It explains what’s going to happen in the album. It’s about going on tour with your rock band. It’s a kind of tribute to them, like a rallying cry. I share some very personal things here, like the fact that I no longer live out in the country. I also say, ‘Pour devenir une star, il faut broyer du noir’ [‘To be a star, you have to fear the worst’].” “Glam” “Here it starts to become more theatrical. LUMIÈRE wakes up with a start at home. He’s late for his show, which is on the other side of town. He jumps into a taxi, and he’s really nervous, he’s got the jitters. Then he’s on stage; he’s scared, his teeth are chattering, he’s covered in sweat. He wants fame, but at the same time, he feels like running away. There’s a certain vulnerability about it.” “Petit fruit” “It’s a story about love and fantasy. LUMIÈRE goes to see his idol in concert. He’s already in love but seeing them onstage only fuels his desire. At the end of the show, he goes to join his idol, and they leave with a platter of fruit from the dressing room. They spend the night together and early the next morning, the rock star leaves without saying goodbye. LUMIÈRE hopes his idol has left him something other than the rotten fruit, like a poem or roses. He’d like the roles to be reversed. He’d like to be the one who leaves.” “Liszt-o-mania” “It takes place after a concert at the Philharmonie de Paris. We go out to a bar called the Local Rock, just across the street. There’s loads of young people and, when I look more closely at them, I notice they’re the musicians from the concert and their friends. And then I spot someone I’m drawn to, who intrigues me. But I have my doubts about my ability to connect with people from that milieu. Here, and throughout the album, there’s a sort of opposition between classical and rock. Once again, it’s autobiographical because I had my classical period. In the bar, there was also a big poster for the movie Lisztomania starring The Who. In the film, Roger Daltrey portrays Liszt in an age where classical musicians were like rock stars.” “Chanson en péril” “Here I’m feeling nostalgic. I’m not really in sync with today’s pop music. When I was in Paris, I’d think, ‘What’s going on? French chanson has, like, disappeared. I’m looking for it but can’t find it.’ It’s a bit like that, this song. I don’t really understand what it’s all about anymore when I listen to FM radio; it doesn’t hit home at all, so I prefer AM. At the end of the day, I say to myself that, instead of complaining, I should just try and write the songs myself.” “Sacrifice” “Once again, it’s very close to what’s going on in my life. I took advantage of the fall to write an album. I invested a lot of time. I had to make compromises. I neglected my friends. I sacrificed my love life. But that’s how far I’m willing to go for rock music. At the time, what mattered most was my rock band.” “À quoi tu penses” “When I was in Paris, we shared a rehearsal space with other musicians at the house where I lived. There was a lady who used to practise classical music. The minute there was a cookie crumb lying on the floor, she’d spot it and complain to the director. Us, when we arrived, we’d set up, we’d be in creative mode. One time, we left a coffee ring on the piano. And that’s precisely what I say in the song: ‘Tout ça pour un cerne de café sur un piano blanc’ [‘All this because of a coffee ring on a white piano’]. So, yet again, it brings into play the opposition between the rigour of classical music and us, who were more into the vibe and having fun too.” “Rock Steady” “I felt like doing a tune in English. When we’re in the studio, we francophones use English words all the time when we’re talking about music. I felt like making a list and putting them all in a song. Here it’s an actual jam. With the band, we thought, ‘Let’s do something uptempo, and it has to kick butt.’ The take you hear is the first one we did.” “Savoir fuir” “It’s two friends who go to a party. One of them decides to leave without saying so, and the other person searches everywhere. They’re unnerved. In the second verse, it says, ‘Ce soir c’est à mon tour de me sentir coincé/Mais qui suis-je donc pour te blâmer?’ [‘Tonight it’s my turn to feel trapped/But who am I to blame you?’]. Here, I’m the one who wants to escape. It’s that sort of little game. It ends with, ‘J’ai envie de te suivre, qu’on parte ensemble affronter nos peurs ailleurs’ [‘I feel like following you, let’s leave together and confront our fears elsewhere’]. It talks about social anxiety as well.” “Être humain” “It’s about social anxiety—the anxiety of being with someone else. Sometimes you’re not in a good mood. You feel like staying at home, not showing your face, keeping the curtains closed. It’s a bit like, if I’m hoping to be a famous singer, it must be because I’ve got something to offer and that I’m unique. But maybe I’m not worthy. It’s that feeling of not being enough. I’m worried I don’t have anything to say. I’m scared of looking like an idiot.” “Sur un banc” “It was written in Paris. After a contemporary music festival, I went to sit on a bench by the Seine and, by the light of the moon, I wrote the first lines to the song. It’s halfway between dream and reality. The lyrics are a bit more cryptic; it rhymes, it’s a sort of exercise in style, not as much is said. When you’re just sitting there, gazing at the moon, you ask yourself questions. I wonder if I’m wrong to be right. Sometimes you’re certain about something, but there are other possibilities. It’s a reassessment. At this stage in the album, I’m worried I’ve failed in life.” “Maman” “It’s a bit cute: the wannabe rock star thinking about his mom. It recounts a conversation he had with her. He wonders if he should cancel his project. Things are starting to go well for him, but his head’s spinning, and he feels like staying. It’s like something really regressive; he’d like to go back into his mother’s womb. But ultimately, he decides to leave. They say goodbye and say they love each other.” “Chapeau de roue” “I thought it would be cool to change the sound, to go with something more grassroots. It’s a little breather: We’re back in the countryside with the smell of hay and tractors. It talks about going off on tour and coming back exhausted. On top of all this, there’s a relationship that’s on the rocks. ‘I’m not too sure about what we have together anymore. I only go to see you because I don’t want to be alone. Maybe I didn’t really listen to the little voice inside my head.’ The whole thing rings hollow. The song is basically a kind of return to one’s roots, but it talks about love.”