If you were to meet Melissa Laveaux on the streets of Paris, you would swear that she’s just like any other girl about town. Sure, she loves to read, argue, dance, solve puzzles, travel, and listen to a ridiculous amount of music. But she records music too. The Montreal-born, Ottawa-raised, and now France-residing singer, and daughter of Haitian parents released her newest album Dying is a Wild Night. It’s her second full-length album on a major record label.

Prior to that, she wasn’t exactly a musical wallflower, opening for Angolan singer Lura at festivals and for alternative artist Meshell Ndegeocello and creating plenty of buzz with her self-released album Camphor & Copper. Following its initial release, and a second version of Camphor & Copper was released by No Format.

Barely a year after she had graduated with a Bachelor of Science from the University of Ottawa, Ms. Laveaux was already high-riding at the Montreal International Jazz Festival. Laveaux’s voice is very complex. It’s like listening to Ella Fitzgerald, Sarah Vaughan and Dionne Farris all at once.

“The Postman” is the first single off of the Dying is a Wild Night album. Its accompanying video, with its images of forest ballerinas in body paint, has an almost macabre quality to it. “The Postman”—in question—is a mysterious woman dressed in a top hat outfit, but one gets a feeling that she’s not getting ready for a pleasant evening of tap dancing, but for something more sinister. The entire video feels like a prelude during the intermission of a horror film at a decrepit movie theatre house.

“Pretty Girls,” the second single is less frightening. A sarcasm-filled title, for the song isn’t about young ladies at a pageant, or polite and fresh little maidens with sincere smiles, and twirling little umbrellas, but rather about the ruthlessness and aggressiveness of, well, mean girls.

Laveaux’s is the 2nd full-length album and it is released to independent label No Format. It is distributed in France by Universal Classics and around the world (except Canada) by Naive.

Q & A

Can you think back to the first song, and perhaps first album that made this profound, had this profound effect on you as a person?
I think Martha Jean-Claude’s Canciones de Haiti. Her voice, especially its grain, was probably the first voice that ever touched me. I remember listening to her rendition of a classic Haitian lullaby ‘Dodo Titit’, which I covered on my last album. Her life story, her activism before, during and after the dictatorship years have always been fascinating. I recently went back to listen to her album, and this time, the songs that struck me were “Potpourri” which is a medley of very salacious songs – very daring for a woman of her age at that time. And the other was “Angelina” which I later found out, was a poke at an American general’s wife, while on the surface sounding like a harmless childrens’ song. She had guts. She imprisoned – pregnant! And she survived it all. I find her a feminist inspiration to this day.

What was it like growing up Haitian?
It’s like growing up in two different worlds. You’re Haitian at home but then you’re parents make sure you’re Canadian outside of the home. They desperately want you to know your roots, but they also desperately want you to integrate seamlessly into Canadian society and culture. I spoke French at school and at home and spoke English with my friends and my sister. I compartmentalized everything in order to keep things clear in my head. But as I grew up, my “Haitianness” and my “Canadianess” became one fluid [indissoluble] identity.

What can you tell us about this album, this album that seems to have been in you for quite some time now, and that you are finally giving birth to?
It’s called Dying Is a Wild Night, which is an Emily Dickinson quote. The full quote is actually quite positive: “Dying Is a wild night and a new road”. Knowing the full title of the album, one can understand that it isn’t exactly about dying so much as it is about leaving things behind you and moving to something else. Departure is difficult but incredibly rewarding, as was my leaving Canada for France. The album is about the experience of this voyage—mostly in my head—that shook me changed me, changed the way I wrote music, the way I loved people, the way I do everything. I had to grow up when I moved to Paris, and I still have plenty of growing to do. So it’s essentially an album about shedding one’s own skin.

When was the last time you went to Haiti?
Sixteen years ago was the first and last time I went to Haiti on vacation with my family. It was my first time my mom had been back since she was eighteen—thirty-two years before. It was devastating at first. My parents really noticed how the country had taken a major blow under different [governments]. I remember hanging out with my cousins in Cap Haitien. I remember eating the best food I had eaten thus far in my short life. Seeing the sea for the first time. People begging me to straighten my hair so I “not look like a maid”. Not liking the heat so much—I’m a winter baby. My mother was a different person there than she was in Canada. As I was a different person when I was inside my own home. I understood my parents better.

Do you find yourself inspired by Haitian culture?
Yes, but I think it’s all subliminal. I am a strong believer that culture is not only transmitted through teaching and rearing but also through blood. Haitians, as most islanders have a way of referring to the sea in a lot of their written work, I didn’t even notice I did that until someone else pointed it out to me. I like Haitian humor and over-the-top drama – it’s totally harsh but it really nourishes my writing without me even noticing it. I love Creole because as a contextual language, you can say so much with so little: this economy of words I try to keep in mind when I write songs.

In terms of studying music formally—do you think that is a necessity to being a success in the musical world?
I would recommend some form of formal training just because it provides one with a larger set of skills. Versatility is the only way to achieve longevity in the music industry. I would love to compose for film in the future, but I think I will have to take up a bit of specific training for that. I find myself limited in terms of what I can do in terms of arrangements. I was very grateful to have the producers I had on this album. But if all you want to do is write songs, then listen to good music. That’s my training. I try to develop my music palette and taste level by listening to music constantly and I try to read novels as well as non-fiction as often as a can.

Turns out that you write a lot of your own songs. Every performer-songwriter’s process is different. What’s yours like?
I try to keep a guitar within reach when I am at home. I let creative juices flow by listening to a lot of music or reading a lot of books that I think will inspire me. Edwidge Danticat is a big one for me. And recently Alejo Carpentier. A song will come to me because a melody will find its way into my ear and I can’t stop humming or singing a few bars until I reach a pen and paper. Sometimes I’ll be playing a cover of an old tune I like and the mistake of a misplaced finger will give me ideas for a new chord structure. I try to avoid writing as a 9 to 5 sort of gig. Those songs rarely ever make it onto an album.

Do you ever co-write with other songwriters? How does that usually work out?
I share composition responsibilities with my producers – The Jazz Basterds—Vincent Taurelle, Vincent Taeger and Ludovic Bruni—on three songs of the album because they changed the structure of the song or changed some of the chords. Other than that, I write alone. My songs are very personal and it would be weird to have someone else write something that hadn’t affected them at all. I don’t know if I see myself writing with someone else in the future, but I’m open to trying new things!

What entertainers and performers you look up to?
The aforementioned Martha Jean-Claude, Wildbirds and Peacedrums, My Brightest Diamond, Camille, Aretha Franklin, Tune-Yards, Feist.

What do your parents and other family members think of your being a musical artist?
I’m not sure they like the music… But I think they’re all very happy whenever they see me on TV or hear me on the radio. They’re happy to see I’ve made a viable career out of my craft and that I’m not broke and alone in another country.

Who would you like to collaborate with musically in the future?
Santigold? Wildbirds & Peacedrums? Valgeir Sigurdsson? Flying Lotus? Little Dragon? Devendra Banhardt? Timber Timbre? I know, that’s a lot of a bands. I couldn’t pick just one. All these people are incredibly talented. I would love to have a song in a [Quintin] Tarentino film! Or an old Kathryn Bigelow film. I’m a big fan of her Strange Days and Point Break period.

What’s next for you?
Preparing the live show: we have a residency coming up to work on sound and lights and stage presence. Promoting the album is a crazy exhausting rush. I’m doing a lot of interviews right now. I’m currently answering these questions at 5 a.m. on a Sunday morning [Paris time].

Photo Credit: Jean-Baptiste Millot, Emma Pick

Connect with the artist HERE.

The singer Ne-Yo once said, “I pride myself on being the type of artist who can work half in the R&B world and half in the pop world.” Canadian-Haitian singer Melissa Laveaux is the type of artist who can work half in the world of jazz and the other half in world-music. She’s got her toes dipped in both puddles,and her frequently be-spectacled eyes stuck on rock, as is the case with the song “Dew Breaker”.

The eclectic singer has been up to quite a lot since she and I discussed her craft more than two years ago. Won’t you follow along as we discuss everything from her new paths, Haiti, and even life lessons.

​K. St. Fort: You’re working on some new material. Will you be going in a totally new artistic direction?
At the moment, I’ve been a little bit greedy with the work material I’ve chosen… I’m scattered in many different directions. I’m working on a short story, that will turn into a musical dramatic performance. I’m also working on a cover project of Haitian protest songs. I’m also working on a more straightforward album project, themed around self-care – in other words, a breakup album. I’m also a collaborator on other projects with French artists such as jazz sax player Julien Lourau’s big band project – the Groove Retrievers – and electronica bassist Tom Fire, on his current tour promoting his album on which I appear. 

I’m always trying something new, but I really liked the pop direction that my last album took. My aim is to push myself to make something that isn’t necessarily easy on the ears, but that something that resonates and pushes my boundaries as a songwriter.

K. St. Fort: Excellent…When you are in-between projects, and you get an idea for a new song, how do you determine whether it’s going to be set aside for now or whether it’s going to be definitely be viable for your next project?
I immediately record ideas on my voice mail or my smart phone or whatever’s nearby. I try to keep recording apps on all my devices in case I’m not travelling with a computer, a guitar and a mic. I think it’s so important to write down the first idea…However, you can’t despair if you forget to. Nothing ever disappears forever. Sometimes, I start singing or humming ideas I had forgotten months ago because I’m doing something very conducive to songwriting. Ironically, this often happens when I’m swimming in the ocean or if I’m in the bath or shower. The one place, I can’t bring my phone to record…

I don’t know if any song is good until I’ve finished it, which is sad, but it’s good to keep working. All work fine-tunes your skills, even if it’s work you have to cast aside or put in the garbage.

K. St. Fort: Interesting…When you lay down the vocals for a song, and you do multiple takes, what criteria ultimately determine which version you use?
The producer and I make sure I’m not singing off-key…first. And then, I try to make sure the people in the studio feel the hair on the arms stand up. The goal is resonance – as always.

K. St. Fort: The title for one of your past albums Dying Is a Wild Night was based on an Emily Dickinson poem. Emily Dickinson once said, “Old age comes on suddenly, and not gradually as is thought.” By that, I think she meant that wisdom can come out of nowhere. What’s the biggest epiphany you’ve had in life so far.
“Anger is like drinking poison and hoping someone else dies”. 
I’ve been learning to keep just the right amount of anger to heat the coals, but not enough to self-destruct. Who has time for that? Anger is a justified short-term reaction, but long-term it’s a very damaging distraction, and I’ve got too much work ahead of me right now to be distracted.

K. St. Fort: Any plans to go and perform in Haiti?
There are plans to perform in Haiti. I returned this past year after 19 years since my last trip. My goal was to forge contacts and start research on my project of Haitian protest cover songs. The trickiest part is finding somewhere to crash because hotels and travel inside Haiti can quickly become very expensive. I’ve stayed in some Haitian owned Airbnb’s last time and the hosts were so lovely. After my research is done, I’d like to record the album and release it in partnership with a Haitian record label and return to perform the songs regularly. The songs have a historical importance to Haiti, but as a Canadian of Haitian-descent, I’m trying to find ways to work with the songs without exploiting them. Because of their history, whether or not this project becomes successful, I am compelled to make sure it has a long-lasting and nourishing legacy for musicians on the island. That can be getting performers to tour with me or using some of the profits to start an instrument library. I’m looking for a way to pay it forward.

K. St. Fort: Sounds like a good plan…What would you say to an aspiring singer?
Don’t quit. Keep working. If you didn’t manage to work, take some time out and return to the work again at a later time. It’s always there waiting for you, you just have to do it. Be kind to yourself and listen to your intuition – not your fear.

[Photo Credit: All three photos of Melissa Laveaux were taken by Emma Picq]