Angine de Poitrine Are the Real Deal
Or: How I learned to stop worrying and love polka-dotted French Canadian microtonal math rock
The first things you notice are the costumes. In clips that have been difficult to avoid on my social feeds over the last two weeks, two outlandish figures face each other, one seated behind a drum kit and another holding a double-necked combination bass and guitar. Their outfits are part Yayoi Kusama, part Eyes Wide Shut, part Yo Gabba Gabba!: polka dots, body paint, giant masks with disconcerting noses. The guitarist looks ready to lead a shadowy cult ceremony, the bassist like an elaborately vandalized Easter Island head. Oh god, you might think to yourself, this looks like some real Burning Man shit.
