Angine de Poitrine, the brilliantly entertaining costume rock-out duo, delivered a monumentally gratifying show at Edmonton's Fan Park on Tuesday and Wednesday, as the only Alberta stop of their tour. The newly-world-renowned rhythm wizards Khn de Poitrine and Klek de Poitrine — guitar-bass and drums, respectively — deployed a pair of delightfully bare-bones concerts, writhing and bouncing through their two-album catalogue as polka-dot-covered fans collectively held hands high, fingers bent into triangles.
A Visual and Sonic Spectacle
Opening with Angor and closing with viral hit Sherpa both nights, the two musicians were a sublime mix of a Yayoi Kusama spotted art installation, Mick Ronson's Moonage Daydream live freakout, and a pinch of the hilarious satire of Nigel Farage-vexing British novelty candidate Count Binface. Performing with anonymous confidence reminiscent of GWAR, the duo offered a tactile and insistently living antidote to pushy AI and its vampire kings, according to the review.
In that crowd, there was no doom to scroll — just looping, mesmerizing happiness witnessing the weirdness up front, Khn swirling around with his two-necked guitar-bass, adjusting pedals with bare, polka-dot feet. Lyricless with occasional grunty banter only Han Solo could translate, the sheer, trichromatic presence of the two microtoners was pure Muppety pleasure, with Klek as an antimatter Bert outside the Yellow Submarine window and Khn as a squishy-nosed shroom pharaoh with dollar-sign eyes.
Sustaining Attention Without Words
Heading in, reviewer Fish Griwkowsky wondered how such a ferociously visual act could sustain attention for a full show, an unfounded question as the two enthusiastically smashed jazz, glam metal, and Bedouin beats into their impossible ball of cool. The crowd of approximately 2,500 would have danced even if the duo were just two dudes in dirty jeans and Primus T-shirts playing those insane, melty songs.
One of the biggest bangers of the night was Mata Zyklek, which even had some vocal yelping, possibly from Klek. There was a long wire coming out of the back of the drummer, though Griwkowsky left the mystery-debunking to others concerned with the band members' real names or the next Avengers movie. At one point later in the hourlong set, Klek leaned way back as Khn stood on one foot, perhaps summoning some unseen god or just a seventh-inning stretch.
Pure, Frictionless Fun
Eye-rolling about the faddy ridiculousness of the duo from those not present — resale tickets got as low as $9 for the second night — totally dodges the pure, frictionless fun of these unlikely international sensations. The show was a monumentally more gratifying alternative to pipeline-obsessed politicians cosplaying urban cowboys down in Calgary that week, according to Griwkowsky.
