Montreal-based comedian, actor, and director Adib Alkhalidey released his debut album Les cœurs du mal in 2020 under the name Abelaïd. He finished it just before the start of the pandemic, which put all live performances on hold. “The next day, I found myself doing the groundwork for my next project,” he tells Apple Music. “I was at home and had nothing better to do. It was an amazing process, really weird, but also so perfect, and such a great way of reclaiming my time.” The end result is the aptly titled Pour tuer le temps (translation: "To kill time”), where he talks of love, his heartaches and joys, and the personal transformations sparked by his writing and musical explorations. After learning a great deal from producer Mathieu Magny, who he collaborated with on his first album, Alkhalidey decided to work more independently on this second release, which he co-produced. “I fell in love with the piano, keyboards, synthesizers, I began exploring percussion,” he says. "I spent so much time alone in the studio that I began to accept the way my fingers glided over the instruments and to enjoy every step in the creative process. It was exciting to learn the ins and outs of production.” Here he talks through the album, track by track. Pour tuer le temps “Composing, doing the arrangements, and then the production, takes so much time that you sometimes lose touch with the emotion that was the starting point for the song. But this particular one sends me into a trance, gets me moving, gives me strength and makes me feel as though I have everything it takes to choose my ‘vibe’ in life. After the first six months [of creating], I was sure I’d finished the album, but I ended up ditching everything when this one began to take shape. The song made me realize something about myself. When creating allows me to discover aspects of my personality that had lain dormant, it’s such a wonderful feeling, so I continued to search for that with the other tracks.” Parmi ces âmes “The lyrics for ‘Parmi ces âmes’ and ‘Parmi ces hommes’ are virtually the same, but one was created at the beginning of the process and the other at the end. It’s the lyric that proved to be the most enlightening in terms of my plans for the musical production and arrangements. It allowed me to explore so much. It’s hard to like the lyrics when you know that, in general, that’s not really the first thing people hear. It’s more the vibe, the movement, the dance, and I totally get that, but there’s something about the words, something that’s part of who I am and that really unnerves me. [The lyrics] ‘Je compte parmi ces âmes qui se cachent pour pleurer’ [I am one of those souls who hides when they cry], it’s so true, so sad, and I’m definitely not the only person like that.” Bêtes immondes “It’s based on a thousand and one stories I’ve heard about the pain of adultery, from people who’ve experienced it and those who have inflicted it. It’s a form of violence that’s so distinctive, so unique, that it tears your heart apart. In a split second, you see the world in a completely different way. I’d never taken the time to put those experiences into words. It did me a world of good. I composed it on guitar very early on, but I waited until the end of the process to create it in the studio. I didn’t have to think too hard about how I’d go about it. I knew there was a French chanson side to it and that it drew on the tragedies of life.” La fête “This one is for all those people who have ended up at a party and said to themselves: ‘What the hell am I doing here?’ It says: ‘Et je suis seul à la fête dans ma tête’ [And I’m alone at the party in my head]. I’ve experienced and witnessed this so many times in my life. When I say things in my songs, I feel as though I’m connected to everyone who has ever felt the same way. And I had a feeling there was no such thing as a party for people who feel alone at a party, so this song serves that purpose. I wrote it quite quickly, I had a clear picture in my mind for the drums and arrangements, but I’d always been a bit disappointed with the ending. At one point, I had this flash of inspiration, so I talked to Dominique [Plante] who was doing the mixing. I tried to have him do with the production what I was trying to say with the lyrics. It was very intuitive, but the idea was to deconstruct the ending. And Dominique came up with a suggestion that really grabbed me. There’s one sentence that’s really important to me: ‘Je pense/donc je suis/je suis donc/corruptible’ [I think/therefore I am/I am therefore/corruptible], and [there’s a break in the song which makes it sound as if] it’s a bit like a corrupted file. Again, it was such a learning journey, both musically and personally.” T’appartenir “It’s a song for my dad, who passed away. While I was playing around with the chord progressions in the studio, the lyrics popped into my head as clearly as if I’d come across them written on a piece of paper. I knew right away that I was talking to him. It’s actually his voice you can hear at the end. My father always encouraged me to respect and value languages and words. And it made me feel really happy to make him a part of this track and allow his voice, full of love and tenderness, to be heard.” La joie “It’s harder for me to talk about this one. I didn’t really give it much thought. It’s the only song on the album that was played and recorded completely live. I’m on keyboards and singing. There’s a simplicity to the track that made me feel good because I’d reached the end of the process. And I’d racked my brain to try and step out of my comfort zone, so much so that it became uncomfortable to keep it simple. It’s nice to have a song where you can get lost in the lyrics more. Here, they resonate a little more strongly than on the others, even though they’re less tragic, less profound. The song goes straight to the heart.” Adrénaline “I just adore love songs. I fell in love with a girl who made my heart beat so fast, at such breakneck speed, that there came a point where I wondered if it was love or anxiety. The question haunted me for ages. There were even times when I thought I didn’t understand the language of my own heart. Is it telling me to stay or leave? It’s a strange vocabulary. In the song, I say: ‘Pour toi mon cœur chiale des larmes d’adrénaline’ ['For you, my heart weeps tears of adrenaline']. There’s something candid about this track, even if there’s nothing candid about a heart that beats like that.” De l’amour pour toi “I think it’s the last one I wrote. After spending a year and a half playing about with the same instruments, I felt as though I wasn’t quite the same person anymore. Love is still the central theme, but I think there’s a more spiritual exploration in the lyrics. I’m trying to talk about just how mystified I am that we allow ourselves to be guided by the things we think we love but which, at the end of the day, aren’t necessarily good for us. The only thing that strikes me as obvious is that we have no choice but to love our destiny in life, with everything strange, difficult and bizarre that comes with it. I, for one, have no other choice but to love the act of living.” Parmi ces hommes “There’s a mirror effect with ‘Parmi ces âmes’ [the second track on the album, while this is the second to last one], but it’s as though it’s sung by a different person. The one at the beginning isn’t the same as the one at the end.” Temps mort “When I came out with this song, I knew the album was finished. I knew it was the last one and that it opened a door to another project and subsequent exploration. There’s a bit of a ‘fuck off, I don’t give a damn, I’m done’ side to it. I let myself go a bit more, both in the performance and the production. There’s this distortion at the beginning, then the lyrics kick in… I’m clearly playing tricks on myself.”