LES GEORGES LENINGRAD - Sur Les Traces De Black Eskimo

Musically, the new millennium's most significant phenomenon has been the revival. Pre-war folk, punk-funk, new wave have been among the genres most plundered (often) and most successfully refurbished (in far rarer instances). Les Georges Leningrad, a Montreal trio now on their second album, tap into one of the less overworked veins, turning their attention to post-punk with a heavy use of electronics and avant-garde pretensions.

Their approach to the material sits somewhere between intellectual rigor and sheer messing about, backed by a solid grounding in the canon (nods to Suicide, albeit in a very party-friendly version, but also to Royal Trux and Residents as far as arty attitude goes) and a determination to make every track sound different from the last. On paper, all very promising. In practice, the resulting stew is decidedly bland, and the band drifts through its own suggestions without ever leaving a mark. The simpler, more conventional tracks, like the driving "Sponsorship" and "Wunderkind #2", handed over to a teenager who howls for no apparent reason (front-girl Poney P.), should be dancefloor fodder, but the dancefloor stays empty. "Nebraska's Valentine" tries to win you over with a whisper, gloomy percussion and vampiric synths, but reeks of mannerism; "Black Eskimo" is one of the few (two, actually) tracks that command attention, thanks to an enveloping groove and a whistling synth line, even if the idea outshines the execution. "Supa Doopa", despite landing on a decent drum groove, soon loses itself in a throwaway chorus, with the vocalist (the aforementioned howling teenager) trying to channel Gwen Stefani while possessing only a fraction of her depth (note: I'm talking about the singing here — physically, it's quite the opposite).

The avant-garde instincts that often surface in pauses, stray noises and lopsided (but never effective) ideas find an outlet in "Umiarjuag", two utterly pointless minutes of (indeed) assorted noise with a drum machine buried far in the background; in the not-unpleasant (if mannered) "St-Mary's Memorial Hall", a jazzy theme battered by din; and in "Comment Te Dire Adieu?", an off-key deconstruction set to a bell accompaniment. The one track that truly hits the mark, though, is "Fifi F.", a pulsing, semi-instrumental gallop that recalls the best moments of Two Lone Swordsmen.

The upshot of the twelve tracks on "Sur Le Traces De Black Eskimo", then, is an album built far more (much more) on intentions than on ideas, and a band that, however promising in the long run, isn't currently ready to compete in the marketplace.

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30/04/2026