On a cold February morning in 2021, in the midst of yet another pandemic wave, Daniel Bélanger strolled down a street in the Mile-Ex neighborhood....

On a cold February morning in 2021, in the midst of yet another pandemic wave, Daniel Bélanger strolled down a street in the Mile-Ex neighborhood. Hands deep in his pockets, shoulders hunched, he pondered the myriad consequences of the health emergency, particularly the inability to sit in a cozy café, something he dearly loved to do.

Stopping at a counter where he was a regular, having just ordered a take-out latte, he recognized someone among a small group of onlookers clustered around a public bench. Greetings were exchanged, introductions made, and conversations began. Daniel Bélanger didn't know it yet, but he had just made true friends, with whom he would traverse the weeks of lockdown that were unfolding, exchanging thoughts over steaming cups.

The song "Soleil levant" was born from that encounter, "between a coffee and a good conversation," in the act of "reinventing the world one end at a time." One could even say that each of the ten tracks on "Mercure en mai" comes from such happenstance, like a fruit of the unexpected. Words attentive to astonishments, to the sudden, to those "little Californias" that sleep within us; music navigating between the minimal and the lush, with boomerang motifs and secret passages: everything here speaks of the impromptu, of what escapes schedules and reason.

If the precision of his productions might give the impression that everything in Daniel Bélanger's world is deliberate and framed, it's quite the opposite. "Songs impose themselves on me," he says, "I'm the first surprised by the path they lead me on." From the rockabilly "Chic de ville" (2013), to the dreamlike "Paloma" (2016), to the cinematic "Travelling" (2020), each of his albums is an exercise in freedom, ultimately guided by intuition, and whose true substance he fully understands only years later. Once again, it's through the days and streets that the singer-songwriter gathered the raw material for his songs, undoubtedly influenced by the recent health crisis and the need for escapism it sowed in each of us.

There's "Joie," which speaks of great inner waves, of their "liquid diamond" that rises straight to the heart. There's "Dormir dans l'auto," which celebrates "the end of dormancy and the beginning of hope." Awakenings to the moment, beautiful escapes, forays into instrumental territory ("Oh no !!!," "Hiatus"): Daniel Bélanger's twelfth album fits into the playful and introspective vein of his repertoire, while also offering a snapshot of where we collectively stand, with our thirst for elsewhere, for flights, our need to hit the pavement.

By his side, a light team formed of Guillaume Doiron (bass) and Robbie Kuster (drums), who made a few stops at Daniel's studio before Pierre Girard ensured the mixing of this mesmerizing "Mercure en mai," the breath of fresh air that we all needed.