Album Review: Un Peu de Soleil, Un Peu de Pluie by Paulette De Courval
Alright, let’s talk about this gem of an album from the Canadian pop chanteuse Paulette De Courval. Released under Disques Totem, Un Peu de Soleil, Un Peu de Pluie is one of those records that sneaks up on you with its charm. It's not flashy or overproduced—just simple, heartfelt storytelling wrapped in lush arrangements. If you’re into French chanson-style vibes, this one’s for you.
The credits alone tell you it’s a labor of love. With Marcel Scott handling the chorus, Tony Romandini strumming his guitar like he’s got a point to prove, and Georges Tremblay leading the orchestra, the whole thing feels polished but still human. Phil Laframboise even wrote some liner notes that make you feel like you’re sitting down with Paulette herself over coffee. You know what I mean? Like she’s sharing her life stories directly to your ears.
Now, onto the tracks. There are 14 songs here, all varied enough to keep things interesting, but two really stuck with me. First off, “La Clef De Mon Coeur.” Man, this tune hits different. The melody feels bittersweet, kind of like remembering a summer romance long after it’s faded. Paulette’s voice has this delicate strength—you can hear every ounce of emotion without her having to scream it at you. And the lyrics? Super relatable if you’ve ever felt torn between holding on and letting go. By the second verse, I was already humming along like I’d known it forever.
Then there’s “Un Peu De Soleil, Un Peu De Pluie,” the title track. This one feels like the heart of the album. It’s got this gentle sway to it, almost like a lullaby, but don’t mistake softness for simplicity. The orchestration builds subtly, layer by layer, until it wraps around you like a warm blanket. Paulette sings about life’s ups and downs—sunshine and rain—and somehow makes it sound both personal and universal. Plus, the way the strings come in halfway through? Chef’s kiss.
One thing I gotta say, though—this isn’t background music. You need to sit down, maybe pour yourself a glass of wine (or maple syrup, since it’s Canadian!), and just listen. Each song tells its own little story, whether it’s about lost love, nostalgia, or even oyster fishing (“Cinq Douzaines D’Huitres” is quirky as heck). It’s the type of record that reminds you how powerful words and melodies can be when they’re done right.
Here’s the kicker: listening to this album made me realize how rare it is to find music that feels so genuine these days. No bells and whistles trying too hard—it’s just Paulette doing her thing, backed by talented folks who clearly cared about making something special. Honestly, if more albums sounded like this, I’d probably spend less time doomscrolling and more time vibing out.
Oh, and random thought: does anyone else think Paulette would’ve killed it performing in a Parisian café back in the '60s? Just saying.
