Massicot's latest album is at the heart of a strange triangle where the mystical tradition of pagan tales from Northern European folklore, Latin and Middle Eastern polyrhythms, and post-punk converge. Its winding arrangements are generous, full yet formed from the simplest elements; they are minimal, sculpted, and refined. Their soundscape can be seen as a plush rhythmic tapestry, where the bounce of percussion and the roll of basslines intertwine. Throughout this structure, one finds sharp guitars reminiscent of the style of Glenn Branca or Talking Heads, as well as vocal melodies echoing Latvian choirs. Massicot choreographs a kind of endless dance carnival that captures the spirit and draws in the body. The groove is essential, mechanical, yet nuanced, seductive, and human. Massicot was originally an all-female quartet composed of Simone Aubert (guitar), Colline Grosjean (drums), Léa Jeacklin (violin), and Mara Krastina (vocals and baby-bass), briefly drawing inspiration from The Ex, Sonic Youth, Kleenex, Marble giants, Orchestra of Spheres, etc. Formed in Geneva in 2009, the gang first cut their teeth on long improvisations, then after a year of this practice, delved into more structured pieces. Obsessive rhythmic guitar, modified baby-bass, free-electron violin, Kraut drums, etc. Oscillating between energetically loud moments and trance-hypnotic phases. All topped by vocal scansion of Latvian poetry, French absurdities, sliced into psychedelic dada with the precision of a guillotine.