With his fifth album Au bar des espoirs (translation: At the bar of hopes), Émile Bilodeau wanted to show both sides of the human experience. “The play on words may seem simple, but I liked the idea of juxtaposing ‘des espoirs’ [‘hope’] and ‘désespoir' [‘despair’],” the French Canadian singer-songwriter told Apple Music. “From the war in Ukraine and the Quebec forest fires to the rising cost of living and floods, it seems to me we’re living in somewhat apocalyptic times. But we can get through this! Instead of talking non-stop about all the things we’re going to lose, we should talk about what we have to gain. In my opinion, the strength of this album lies in saying things how they are, but with a touch of humour. We need to make people feel that all is not bleak, and that there’s still some hope.” Here, he talks through how hope and despair play different roles in the album’s songs. "Au bar des espoirs" “It’s the first song I did and it’s the one that sets the tone for the album. The character has the blues, and he’s this combination of several rather colourful bartenders I’ve met in my life. It’s also a little nod to my profession; like bartenders, our job is to make other people happy, and sometimes we forget ourselves. At the end of the song, you realise that the guy made a bad decision when he ended up on the opposite side of the bar.” "Malentendu" “It talks about my career as a singer, and I show that I’m quite vulnerable because it touches on one of my greatest fears: losing my hearing. But above all, it’s a message of hope for anyone going through a difficult time or grieving a loss. What I say is that if I ever stop hearing notes, I’ll write a book; and if I ever lose my hands, well, I’ll just start dancing to show you how I feel! It takes courage, but we have to find a way to stay positive.” "L’amour au temps de la fin des temps" “It’s one of the powerful songs, and it was obvious it had to be the first single because it best exemplifies that hope/despair duality, the album’s central theme. Many young people think that it’s not a good idea to have children in this day and age, but I think that, on the contrary, they are the solution to our problems. If we want to build an army of good guys to conquer the bad guys, we’re going to have to teach young people about empathy, mutual aid and hope.” "La saison des sucres" “We recorded it at the last minute, when the album was almost finished, and I’m glad I persevered. Another love story that ends badly: A friend of mine organised a sugar-shack outing, and I got dumped just before going. Believe me, it’s weird being heartbroken when you’re eating maple taffy and crispy pork rinds! At the same time, I thought it was great to use such typically Quebecois imagery.” "Les Daisy" “True story! Everyone I name in the song are close friends, but I asked them for permission to use their names. We made this kind of pact, saying it would be funny if the first person in the gang to have a kid, a girl or boy, had to call them Daisy, but in return they’d take home the jackpot, which everyone had contributed $5,000 to. I’m also especially pleased with the part about reporters; I get a kick out of singing ‘Les chroniqueurs qui parfois nous font mal au cœur/Qui se présentent comme des intellectuels rebelles’ [‘The journalists who sometimes make us feel sick/Who call themselves intellectual rebels’].” "Ayayaille" “It’s based on a wonderful experience I had with this girl who made it very clear, after a few dates, that if we were going to see each other again, it would be just as friends. That’s when I said ‘Ayayaille’ [‘oh no, oh no, oh no’]! I think I’d eaten too much and I was bloated when I wrote it, and that led to that part where I say, ‘Câlisse que t’es belle/J’te kiss, ça goûte le miel/Pis mon cœur crépite dans la friture’ [‘You’re so fucking beautiful/I kiss you, it tastes of honey/And my heart sizzles in oil’]. At the end of the day, it talks about getting attached too fast, which happens to me all the time. I could have called it ‘Whoa, whoa, whoa!’ to remind myself that I need to take it easy.” "Mauvais temps" “I really wanted to play with form rather than content for this one. My aim was to use as many verb tenses as possible, from the simple past to the subjunctive. It’s my tune for French teachers; it’s almost educational, but it ends up becoming a beautiful and unique love story. Musically, there’s also a little hats-off to ‘Tu m’connais trop bien’ by Gab Bouchard, in the energy and the sound of the drums.” "Quatre vérités sur la jalousie" “With its trippy intro and super powerful ending, I think it’s a great way to kick off a show. It talks about jealousy in relationships, but also in other aspects of our lives, and basically it says that we need to focus on our own happiness, without worrying about what others are doing. I send a direct message to jealousy, and at the end, there’s a whole bunch of us saying, ‘Jealousy, get out of here!’ The choir went all out in terms of the energy, and the track needed this super rock ending.” "Y faut c’qui faut" “It’s my song for the CAQ [the nationalist political party Coalition Avenir Québec], which I didn’t vote for, obviously. When it comes to talking about important things—housing, systemic racism—it’s the status quo. I wanted to bring together Quebec’s political counterculture and offer a kind of sugary treat to activists and all those who adhere to my political discourse. I like the decrescendo between the verses and the refrain, and I love the sound of the electric guitar. Initially, we’d thought of adding trombones, but we dropped the idea, and [singer-songwriter-producer] Simon [Kearney] got back to us with a guitar sound that’s quite trombone-ish.” "Compromis" “The most autobiographical. It’s like a message that says that if you want to spend time with me, you need to understand that my job and my political engagement take up a lot of my time: It isn’t always easy living with someone who has to go to bed late because they’re performing in Lebel-sur-Quévillon and have to get up early to do television interviews. It isn’t always compatible with someone who works 9 to 5.” "Pas si différents (toune à Kearn)" “This was the first time I included a song written by somebody else on an album. At the end of my stay at his place at Île d’Orléans, Simon gave it to me as a gift because it was so well suited to the whole hope/despair concept. I’m really happy to sing it with him; he’s a guy I love and who is well worth getting to know. It was important for me to sing the way Simon wanted me to, so I listened really closely to his instructions.” "Fleuve" “It’s a declaration of love to Quebec, to the Saint Lawrence Valley where we settled and where we encountered the First Nations—a place that connects us all. The river is at the heart of our territory and our identity, it’s a powerful symbol. The song sequence was really important to me, and it was obvious we were going to end the album gently with this one.”