What did we learn from double helpings of Angine de Poitrine at End of the Road?

In some cases all within the 28 minutes of their breakout KEXP live session.

End of the Road gave us two in-person chances to make, break or augment our hot takes IRL: the Quebec microtonal rock band played on the main stage to a packed field, and later that night, they were the first of two surprise sets in the Folly tent. The large, open-field show was a mixture of upfront moshers and half-interested grass-sitters further back, but the second set required serious time investment in a queue, so it was wall to wall hardcore Poit heads.

As the hubbub built, a screen like the one you’d have around a hospital bed was flipped by two crew members, revealing polka dot patterns on the other side. Then came the cheers, the fingers made into triangles held above heads in a pledge of allegiance to our new microtonal overlords. Then came the gabble-gobble gibble-gubble rock and roll party.

Trust a music writer to take something fun and add some boring “buts,” but amid all the hype, I wonder if we’re really here for the papier-mâché, or whether it’s the polyrhythms. And what does the overnight success of complicated music engaged with uncomplicatedly say about culture right now?

Indeed, Angine’s music, though undeniably impressive and outright mind-boggling in the context of three-chord crooners, say – though maybe not in the context of other microtonal composers – doesn’t require anything of you in the way that more challenging avant-garde or experimental music does. You mosh, jerk your torso around a bit, make a finger triangle, and it’s fun, gimmicky – your mind goes close to blank.

Artists such as Maddie Ashman, on the other hand, have taken microtonality and made it live harmoniously with more accessible pop touchpoints, writing arresting, challenging, gimmick-free song-songs. Angine play many notes, more notes than I thought there even were, but they are largely one note. I wonder if, on this mass scale, we have forgotten how to be satisfied with or impressed by nuance, and the only thing to rouse us from a rotisserie chicken coma is something so far-out and bizarre that there’s no precedent available. I think of the humans on the spaceship city in WALL-E: fed by mindless entertainment that must become increasingly novel and easy to hold attention.

I’m far from suggesting that Angine’s music is mindless, but is anyone in this crowd getting off on the microintervals and the dexterity of the musicianship itself? Some, sure, but again – is it more so the papier-mâché?

I also fear that, in an increasingly saturated market with limited money going to the right places, Angine have done themselves out of the final reliable bastion of income for bands: merch. You can’t really get a more democratic pattern than the polka dot, so anyone can make their own AdP merch from home. And many do. Off of that: is it fair to the band if we lose interest as quickly as we gained it, having deified them but in actuality given them nothing but a temporary platform? Are we too all-or-nothing, and is this an extension of one-and-done consumerism rather than an engagement with extraordinary, out of the ordinary art? I guess it can be both, and I feel like we owe bands that we deify a longer-term investment when there aren’t any assurances or failsafes in place.

So what did we learn from Angine de Poitrine’s sets at End of the Road? Well, everyone has watched the inarguably brilliant KEXP performance and sent it to at least one friend, and yet they will still go out of their way to experience all the fuss in person. Maybe twice. That – like so much in this industry – loops back to the unique power of live music. It's a cliche for a reason: the internet can pull something out of obscurity and start a conversation, but sparking joy, community, and even snarky debate – there’s nothing like doing that in person.