At the center of this quartet is Fly Pan Am guitarist Jonathan Parent and Shalabi Effect/solo experimentalist Alexandre St-Onge, but the eponymous debut sounds like it might as well be the most logical progression from Fly Pan Am's last record.
The album both opens and closes with more loose, almost noisy bits, and while these songs aren't improv-based, they're not quite melody based either: the hook is predominantly controlled by the drummer and bassist and their intimate relationship. After over three minutes of primitive modulators imitating racing cars on "Ferrari En Feu," the grooving commences. This one's an upbeat melody with chirping guitar and effects, but it also introduces us to the rare sound of '80s synths (which show up much later), however downplayed behind the drummer and bassist who are easily in the zone. The rhythm section continues their reign through the next three songs as distorted vocals, squelchy electronics, and an abrasive guitar decorate the tunes.
It's not until the third song, the nine-minute "Tu N'avais Qu'une Oreille" that lyrical vocals come into the mix, however the non "oooh"s are in French and beyond my comprehension. The instrumental "L'homme Avec Cœur Avec Elle" seems to have a genre crisis, as it opens up with a very Neu!-esque chugging yet halfway through completely shifts gears, with a bluesy interplay between drums and guitar, saxophone, and sped up source tapes of what could easily be birds and other assorted wildlife. The finale is a bit of a departure from the rest of the sound but hardly anything unexpected that Alexandre St-Onge would attempt. "Ce N'est Pas Les Jardins Du Luxembourg" spends a lot of time without the presence of any rhythms. It's the sound of birds and audio-manipulated laughing hyenas at daybreak up against musique concrete tone poems that glisten like the morning dew, and before long it's reminding me of the non-musical score to the film Fantastic Planet. After about four minutes, the thumping comes in, primitive and creepy, like the natives are restless and we're running through the forest trying to escape. When the beat ends we're in some surreal dream-like state, with moaning voices paired with the eerie birds and musique concrete of the song's opening.
Produced with Godspeed's Theirry Amar and mastered by guitarrorist Harris Newman, this project is a good combination of all the sources. It effectively brings the experimentalism out of the often sterile academic arena and places it in a fun rock context that has the potential to win a lot of admirers. However, a catchier name wouldn't have hurt.
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