Picture a lonely street after hours: the city is hushed, a crimson neon flickers, and our night-owl narrator is down to his last cigarette. Rather than surrender to sleep, he slips into a glowing bar in search of chaleur — some warmth for his heart. Yet what he finds are the “démons de minuit,” those restless urges and shadowy thoughts that only appear when the clock strikes twelve. They lure him toward pounding funk records, swirling drinks, and the hypnotic sway of a woman in stiletto heels, offering a temporary escape from boredom and insomnia.
Julien Doré’s cover turns this 80s French classic into a sultry, late-night confession: the darkness outside mirrors the emptiness inside, and the cure seems to be movement, music, and momentary connection. While the catchy chorus invites you to dance, the lyrics hint at a deeper tug-of-war between yearning for genuine comfort and being swept away by nightlife’s fleeting thrills. Spin the track, and you might feel those very same midnight demons pulling you onto the dance floor.