Review by Angina de Poitrine – stunning mastery of math rock from the quirky Quebec duo

THeir masks now light up. As much as it was big news about Angina de Poitrine’s thrilling, sold-out debut Wednesday in New York, that’s it. The Quebec duo went viral in corners of the internet earlier this year, thanks in part to their microtonal, off-kilter approach to hard rock, but also because of those ostentatious costumes and masks—black-and-white tunics and polka-dot jumpsuits with oversized papier-mâché faces and exaggerated features, initially with gold glittery eyes and signature pyramidal accessories. The new ones have all the same things, but with the added ability to light up bright yellow at key moments.

A small detail, to be sure, but one got the sense that the weekday crowd was enjoying this and more at New York’s Le Poisson Rouge (LPR), an establishment with an appropriately French name given the band’s home province. Wednesday was the band’s first of two shows at the 700-seat basement venue, known for its sound system and commitment to adventurous programming. Both Angine concerts have been sold out for months since a video of them performing in a French studio was uploaded to KEXP’s YouTube channel and went viral. As of this writing, the video has nearly 20 million views, a remarkable feat considering that the music is, by mass appeal standards, so wonderfully weird.

Although success came suddenly to them, Angine de Poitrine spent years perfecting ways to turn small details into fully formed musical themes, using them to breathe new life into the repetitive riffs that form the ever-evolving core of each of their long songs. Add to this the outfits, the masks, the double-neck guitar/bass, even the heavy consonant song titles and stage names (Klek, the drummer, and Khn, the guitarist/bassist) and the desire for almost complete anonymity, they created an intoxicating mystery. Listeners may wonder what this enigmatic duo is playing, why it’s catchy as a pop song despite its timing and settings, and how the hell they can physically play it with all that stuff.

Seeing them in person may have answered some of these questions, but it also raised others. The band’s signature sound is defined by a lack of reverb and sustain – will muted drums and crisp guitar play work in a loud concert hall? Their signature image is aliens entering the studio without any sharp edges. Will it play when you see the cables coming out from underneath their suits? With such little difference between the album and the studio live versions of their songs, and with their clever use of live loops creating little opportunity for vampirism, would a live concert be even worth it?

Yes, that’s absolutely true. The group appeared in full regalia to a roar, gathered under the low ceiling of the LPR. They tore through Angor, the closer to Vol II, the second of their two albums, and then upped the ante with Yor Zarad, another ferocious highlight of that album. Tamebs, from the first volume of the 2024 release, uses glowing masks for the first time to lead the audience in a particularly challenging challenge-and-response game. The songs haven’t changed much from how they sound on their albums or in the studio. The opportunity to finally see the duo’s superb musicianship up close made the show vibrant, as did the reminder that they are still human. How does a musician performing in a giant mask drink water? Through special water bottles with comically long glow-in-the-dark rubber tubes.

However, three quarters in, the dangers of live performance intervened. Hn broke the rope. And when you break a string on a custom-built double-neck guitar/bass with special microtonal frets to access notes between the Western scale, that doesn’t mean you can borrow someone else’s string. And given their costumes, you won’t be able to easily change the string yourself either. Khn required the help of a guitar technician to thread a replacement string through the back of the instrument, while Khn himself engaged in an impromptu jam with Klek using other strings on the instrument. When changing strings didn’t work, the duo decided they’d stuck around long enough and moved on to Sarniezz – out of necessity, the only time some of those signature riffs sounded a little different.

And when they switched off and left the stage, there was no encore, and no encore was required. Questions were either answered or pleasantly left behind.