Lulu Leloup’s “March”: Heartbreak in Lipstick, Ash, and Swing

There’s something deliciously self-aware about Lulu Leloup’s heartbreak. It doesn’t cry quietly in the corner — it flirts with the pain, winks through the mascara, and orders another drink. Her new single, “(If You’re Gonna Break My Heart, Would You Do It After) March,” is part confession, part cabaret — a jazz-soaked diary entry scribbled in lipstick and ash.

Lulu, who grew up between Beirut and Montreal, now shaping her story from Dubai’s dimly lit jazz corners, has the poise of an old soul with the bite of a modern poet. She writes heartbreak like it’s choreography — every lyric a step between collapse and composure. “I wrote it after a birthday spent in tears,” she admits, and you can feel it — that kind of birthday where the cake tastes like static and the candles burn a little too bright. But instead of breaking, she bends. She laughs. She makes it swing.

Her voice glides over brushed snares and slow piano like smoke curling above a half-finished beer — warm, wounded, and just a little wicked. It’s heartbreak in sepia tones: witty, sultry, unashamedly self-aware. Beneath the humor, though, there’s something raw — a woman stripped of pride, still daring to turn her pain into melody.

The music video, directed by Kristian Abouanni, leans into that noir energy: mystery, glamour, static light, and a smirk in every shadow. It’s heartbreak as theatre — and Lulu knows her lines by heart.

With just three singles — from “Hope I Won’t Love You Anyways” to “You Called Me Baby, but Baby You Didn’t Call” — she’s already carved her niche as jazz’s darkly comic romantic. Her songs linger like perfume and late-night regret — equal parts heartbreak, humour, and something beautifully human underneath the ash.