You can trust Louder Our experienced team has worked for some of the biggest brands in music. From testing headphones to reviewing albums, our experts aim to create reviews you can trust. Find out more about how we review.
Every inch of the Ballroom – from which one might catch a glimpse of the stage – is packed. People stand on chairs. Black 'n' white spotted outfits mingle with Mastodon, Rush, NIN, Faith No More T-shirts and freshly purchased merch. There are older fans, young(ish) fans, 6Music dads, Louis Theroux at the back in a beanie hat, what looks like Justin Hawkins…
A reserved, chin-strokey response had seemed likely, at this hottest of newly viral yet cerebral alt rock tickets. What we’ll actually see tonight is giddiness, dancing, crowd-surfers, a circle pit… And everyone eagerly raising the triangular salute of our extra-terrestrial headliners.
When I first heard of Angine de Poitrine, I fully expected to hate them. Two aliens (well, two blokes from Quebec in giant papier-mache heads… but yeah, ‘aliens’), having a viral moment, billed as a “mantra-rock Dada Pythago-Cubist orchestra”? Really?
But watching their much-streamed KEXP session, and listening to their albums (2024’s Vol I and this year’s Vol II), revealed the energy and depths that thrive at tonight’s London debut. Instrumental pieces built on microtonal guitar, math-rock tendencies and fiendishly dextrous loops. Shades of Primus, Frank Zappa and King Gizzard and The Lizard Wizard, generously spiced with Eastern sensibilities (Turkish, Indian, Gamelan…) and straight-up rock drive.
All of it tied together with a weird, goofy sense of humour that keeps them feeling like entertainers, as well as inventive artists.
Entering to sprightly strains of Quebecois acapella, Khn de Poitrine (double-neck guitar/bass, Pinocchio nose, hat like a big popcorn box) and Klek de Poitrine (drummer, floppy nose, dome head) need a good song’s length to get plugged into their various bits of gear – with the (it turns out, very necessary) assistance of techs. One wonders if they ever regret their chosen masked look, from a purely practical standpoint.
But now they raise their spotty hands, lights flashing from their heads. Opener Angor packs an immediately heavy punch, setting a tight yet tearaway, hypnotic tone. Punters’ heads bob tentatively at first, but by Yor Zarad it’s all Muppets-level joie de vivre and bodies sailing over shoulders, legs flailing, hands held aloft in determined triangles. It’s smart. It’s funky. It really rocks.
Communication happens in bizarre, distorted garbles, like weird children’s entertainers, or the Daleks after twenty pints. It’s hard to say what, if anything, we should read into these utterances. I mean, “rrrrrnnghhhtijgngtjdnjkhksgrhtt!” could be alien for “I’d like to dedicate this next one to my mum, who always believed in me!” but it doesn't matter. The mysterious silliness of it all is much more fun.
Inevitably there’ll be those who ask: would they be having anything like as much success if they didn’t look the way they do? If they were just another pair of talented, imaginative musos with densely populated pedal boards? Of course not. But isn’t the look of any gigging band an integral part of who they are? And it’s all in the combination here: that hard-hitting cocktail of satire, hooky oomph and highly danceable colour.
Fabrienk sees the room chanting the guitar melody with the joyous bravado of a football crowd (think Seven Nation Army, but proggier) before closer Sherpa climaxes in a heady, noisy rush of guitar chaos and cleverness. It epitomises what’s made tonight such a pleasure. The heaviness. The joyousness. The ultimately very human heart of a proper rock show.
Angine de Poitrine setlist: Electric Ballroom, London – May 11, 2026
- Angor
- Yor Zarad
- Tamebsz
- Mata Zyklek
- Ababa Hotel
- Sarniezz
- Utzp
- Fabienk
- Sherpa
