Angine de Poitrine: The Mathematics of Virality and the Nerds' Revenge

 

They are not the White Stripes. They are another duo and could be called the Black and White Polka Dots, although their name is even stranger: Angine de Poitrine.

I confess that when someone mentioned "danceable math rock," my immediate reaction was one of outright rejection. But I have friends who danced to Yes’s “Roundabout,” and I myself danced many times to Battles’ “Atlas.”

The Battles are probably the most direct predecessor to the virality of these AdP. But musically, there are nods to many other things. Their visual presentation points to The Residents, Devo, or Buckethead. The black and white of their costumes is not an aesthetic accident but a statement of intent: to divide audiences between followers and detractors, and from that division comes much of their virality, along with music consultants who exploit social media algorithms to promote bands.

Musically, the album barely hints at its influences. The first track, “Fabienk,” points directly to the King Crimson era of the great Discipline with the singular Adrian Belew. “Mata Zyklek” sounds like Magma or Ruins. By “Sarniezz” we’re already in the territory of the legendary Don Caballero, with that magical interaction between guitarist Ian Williams and drummer Damon Che. “Utzp” falls closer to Primus or The Residents. “Yor Zarad” takes us back to KC.

This Vol. II is a short album, barely 36 minutes. The band clearly knows how to lock into a groove and squeeze it to the maximum. But the sound never stops being a kind of endless Morse code: dots and dashes and nothing more. There is very little variety, and it tends toward monotony after just a few minutes. Without the visual element, the band would not have generated even half the impact it had on social media. We’ll have to see them live on tour to confirm their real impact.

They don’t have the complexity of King Crimson, the diversity of Don Caballero, the sophistication of Battles, or the power of Ruins. They try to be extravagant but don’t reach the levels of Magma. Their great merit is perhaps having made the most nerdy and antisocial genre in rock and roll fun and shameless again, and that this has created a real rupture between the underground and the merely weird: perfect material for virality on the internet.

Fun math rock? Danceable math rock? Viral math rock? It doesn’t sound like something for me. Maybe in a few weeks no one will remember them, or maybe the algorithm manipulators will create 100 more followers for every 10 detractors like me, and they’ll end up naming it Album of the Year. Don’t count on me, novice mathematicians.