Stromae went 12-times platinum in his native Belgium — and four-times diamond in France — with his 2013 album, Racine carrée. In the near decade since, fans hadn’t seen a follow-up because he decided to pursue other creative ventures. But after starting his own clothing line and directing a video for Dua Lipa (among many other things), Stromae released the much-anticipated Multitude in March — and he’s right back to selling out venues around the world.
The singer/songwriter and producer recently wrapped a two-night stint at New York City’s famed Madison Square Garden and three nights at Montreal’s Bell Centre, two arenas he last headlined in 2015. He’ll return to Bell Centre on Dec. 14 to close out his extensive 2022 tour, but already has a packed schedule for 2023, playing arenas across Europe.
Traveling the world has been a hobby of Stromae’s since he was young. Born Paul Van Haver, the Belgian-born musician explored several different places with his family — and while that sense of adventure has always inspired him, it comes to life in the curiosity-driven songwriting and global influence of Multitude.
Across the album’s 12 tracks, Stromae’s passionate French rhymes flit over the top of production that combines everything from Cuban dance music to French Antillean zouk. The result is a record with an intimacy and closeness, further displaying Stromae’s fervent desire to connect at a deep level superseding any barrier.
Multitude also thrives in telling complex stories from multiple angles, highlighting humanity in the most intimate spaces and demanding a response — from the sex-worker story of “Fils de joie” to the essential-workers tribute of “Sante.” Though the album’s open-hearted character tales are told in French, Stromae's impassioned intonation and immaculate production helps transcend Multitude’s philosophical explorations.
As he closes out his 2022 tour, Stromae speaks with GRAMMY.com about his family history of musical discovery, how much of himself is in his songs, incorporating everything from charanga to ney flute on Multitude, and much more.
You have this unique ability to approach countless different musical traditions and styles with what feels like a genuine connection and understanding of where that curiosity can go. Did reaching that balance and sharing that part of your creative self come naturally for you?
First of all, thank you very much for the compliment, because that was exactly the goal with this album. You just try stuff and it's not natural at the beginning, but then it gets more and more instinctive. That’s when it becomes interesting. And I had my brother, who's my video director, and having an outside opinion when you don't have any objectivity when you work on your album is priceless. His advice is really, really important.
The most difficult part is just to admit that sometimes what you do is not good. I was watching an interview of David Guetta, and he was saying the most difficult part is not to compose good songs, the most difficult part is choosing the good ones.
You mentioned your brother — I know that your family has been so important to your creative journey. For example, you traveled extensively with your mom when you were a child. In that time, did you already seek out different musical cultures and strands, or was it seeping in subconsciously?
In family parties, we used to listen to a lot of music from Africa, and zouk music, like Kassav' from Guadeloupe. I was lucky, thanks to my mother. We went to Mali, we went to Mexico, we went to South America, to Bolivia, and yeah, it was really interesting to have all those different sonorities. That was really inspiring.
How do you approach musical exploration today, having had that firsthand experience? How do you find the music and the genres that inspire you now?
In addition to my brother composing some tracks on the album, I worked with another producer from London, Moon Willis. I sent a lot of stuff to him and he sent me a lot of new tracks. Something that we had in common was the curiosity of discovering grooves, actually. I have a background as a drummer, so to me, rhythm is really important.
I remember sending a lot of stuff and receiving a lot of stuff from Moon — a lot of baile funk, music from Brazil. I was like, "Okay, I love this groove. Try something with this groove and mix it with pentatonic melodies to sound a bit more Asian."
The goal was just to never point to any [one] country. The goal was to just to lose the listener, actually — to make you feel like, "I know this and it comes from there, but at the same time I hear something from somewhere else."
You not only embrace those styles, but you build the next step by bringing in authentic instruments and experienced musicians. You ensure that the music feels lived in rather than touristy. How did you source all those tools and meet all the collaborators?
Back when I was composing for other artists, I went in a studio with Julian Perretta, who's an English singer. He introduced me to Moon Willis. I was really impressed by how open Moon is and how much he knew about music throughout the world — and not only the pop world, but also in world music. He's really talented.
When we were looking for musicians, my brother Luc and my family helped me a lot. For example, I wanted to have a charango player, and I was discussing it with my mother. I said, "Okay, you know very well about Bolivian music, so help me to find a good charango player."
She told me, "Yeah, Alfredo Coca is one of the best." And he was coming here, I think for the independence day of Bolivia, this kind of big party. We called him and asked him to come and record some charango riffs. The same is true for the Bulgarian choir, the ney flute player Selman Faris, and orchestra arranger Bruno Letort.
At the same time while you are infusing all of these interesting sounds, you definitely kept your intrinsic appeal. Your voice is at the core, and no one's going to listen to it and think it's someone else. Was it a challenge then to ensure that you kept a little bit of yourself there while undertaking all these inspirations and ideas?
Yeah, it's interesting. I am who I am. The worst thing is to just try to imitate. Of course I couldn't be better than a famous band from Bolivia. The only thing I can do is my thing.
The most difficult part was to find this mix between who I am, the pop music, and the world music. That was the goal — to be in this in between, and never fall too much into pop, or into me, or into world music.
[My last album] Racine Carrée had more of a kick on every bar, and that's the big difference between that album and Multitude. It will be different for the listeners who are used to electronic music, dance music. But I had to be honest with myself and follow my way, what I feel.
I'm not doing music only for the people, I'm doing music for me first. Sometimes it's difficult just to find the in-between for world music, pop music, the public, the crowd, and myself.
You almost have to forget about everything that other people may think about your music. It seems you took that approach lyrically as well. There's a powerful set of characters in your songs, and they’re treated with this refreshing equality. There's a compassion and attention given to sex workers, laborers, people that aren’t often the focus of songs.
Yeah, it depended on what I was living, actually. For example, "Fils de joie" was inspired by a television show that my wife used to watch about the son of a sex worker. I was so touched by his story, and I thought it would be really interesting to do a song about it.
Then I took this sample of a teaser for Bridgerton. I was like, "What can I say on this? What about this idea about the sex worker and the son?" I start first with my vocal melodies, usually with the chorus, and then I build all the story around the chorus.
I'm not a French speaker, but I get the joy of having multiple levels of engagement with your music: getting the visceral experience, and then also learning about what is being sung through translation. Does knowing that your music will be shared across the world affect your writing process?
I've thought about singing in English, but I'm not sure I would sound as sincere as I am in French, and as spontaneous as I am in French. It wasn't my ambition to be successful in non-French speaking countries. I was so surprised with my first success, "Alors on danse." It was a French song and went No. 1 in 16 countries. I was like, "Okay, so...Yeah, why not?" And then I started to have this kind of ambition.
My ambition was to be No. 1 in the French countries, especially in France. That's my mother language. I didn’t even expect to be supported by non-French people. That was a beautiful gift and actually a beautiful barrier that we broke.
I think there is no barrier, actually. When I had this success with "Alors on danse," I realized that I did exactly the same with English music. I don't even understand a word, but I can jump, I can dance to it, I can just feel, and sometimes translate if I need it. But usually I don't even understand any words.
I understand people speaking English better than when they sing. But when something touches me, it just touches me, so it doesn't need to be translated. It's the same in French. It's the same in Flemish, in Dutch, in Lingala, in any language.
I also really appreciate you being an artist who has openhearted discussions of mental health in your lyrics, as on “L’enfer.” Is it challenging for you to open those conversations and connections?
To be completely sincere with you, there is a part of me in the songs. I was asking my wife, "Do you think that all those songs are completely me?" And she said, "No, it's not exactly you. It's a bit of you, but there is a lot of wordplays, storytelling."
I would say it's 20 or 30 percent of me in my songs, but it's not completely me. It's just a story. That's how I see my music. But of course it comes from me at the very beginning, especially when I'm just looking for new hooks, new vocal melodies, new topics. This is my choice to talk about mental health, sex workers, everything I talk about in the album. It's me, and it's my point of view.
It’s nice then that you can protect a little part of yourself as well in that way. When you performed “L’enfer” on the news program TF1 in France, you launched into the song seemingly in the middle of an interview about mental health, with this incredibly vulnerable stillness. Again, you were able to discuss something very real and raw but with this performative, protective focus.
The idea came from my brother. We were just thinking about how to promote this song. I was impressed because it's the news on Sunday, TF1. That's really important. [Laughs]
Anne-Claire Coudray, the host, didn't want to stress me out by saying it, but afterward she said, "That was really stressful. I could hide it and I didn't say it to you because I didn't want you to be anxious!"