Pitchfork

What Les Georges Leningrad lack in originality, they make up in atmosphere. The old world mustiness that permeates this record brushes your ears like armpit hair. The monomaniacal beats and shrieking vocals may sound familiar to fans of no wave and post-punk, but this Montreal band coats them with a distinguished patina; the fog rolls in as a man croons a French ballad, and the scratchy vinyl that colors the first track stays in your mind through the end. It's as noisy as any example of the genre, but instead of shrill, it's stubbornly ugly.

This album has kicked around from reissue to reissue for a couple of years, and as Alien8 Recordings puts out the latest copy, Les Georges Leningrad may have already outgrown it. The other bands that revived the monomaniacal beats and shrieking vocals of no wave-- Liars, for example-- have moved on since 2002 to more individual statements, or at least to digging up other graves. And while the lo-fi recording helps the ambience, Deux Hot Dogs Moutarde Chou is like listening into a party through two tin cans and some string; by contrast, the costumes and cabaret acts you see in their concert photos make them look sensational, like a Cirque de Soleil with no underwear.

At this point, the two frontwomen may be the least impressive part of the band. If you strain to listen, you can appreciate all the gnarls and extremes in their vocals. But the lyrics, when they aren't actually swallowed in the noise, are pro forma-- who needs another jibe at women who wear Gucci and Chanel?-- and even this much noise needs personality. Why hint at sex when you could wallow in decadence? And why let off some shrieks when you could be totally excruciating?

But Deux Hot Dogs Moutarde Chou boasts several strong tracks, from the clomping beat of "Lollipop Lady" and the pogo-friendly "Didi Extra", to the herniated melody of "Georges V", which showcases their strained, bird-throated vocals. And while they mostly stick to fast dance tracks, the band grinds itself together like sausage on the slow-burner "Cocktail Vampire". They expand their noise palette with farfisas and farting reeds, and the album's best solo-- on "Georges V"-- is just the sound of someone spinning a radio dial; but all of that's carried by persistent rhythms and a guitarist who crunches out riffs as if he's slapping someone detestable.

As much as the band tries to annoy and antagonize, the seedy interludes set it apart from a crowd. Deux Hot Dogs Moutarde Chou will satisfy, and maybe even impress, anyone who likes this kind of music. But it'll be interesting to see if they go any farther on their next album; by now, they might know how to capture the personality that this disc barely reveals.