Perhaps they sweat’n’stomp live and buy whiskey shots for hot girls shakin’ in the front row, but this is unconvincing, and the songs simply don’t stick.
A mix of thrash, death, and prog, they shred, the vocals roar then soar warblingly, harmonize with the best of them, then they trip you up like Meshuggah.
While I prefer the over-stuffed production of Devin Townsend, Pink Floyd and Porcupine Tree fans have a new French composer/performer to watch develop.