Angine de Poitrine - Live In Vancouver, BC

Mike Thomas
1 day ago
4 min read

A few weeks ago, if you had asked me whether I was going to one of Angine de Poitrine’s three

sold-out Vancouver shows, I probably would have looked at you and asked, “Why?”

As far as I knew, Angine de Poitrine were a goofy-looking two-piece French band that had a

viral moment online about six months earlier. That was about the extent of my knowledge. I had

maybe heard fifteen seconds of a single song, and yet somehow, three Vancouver dates had sold

out—and sold out quickly.

Two consecutive nights at The Pearl were impressive enough, but then came the big one: Vancouver’s infamous Commodore Ballroom.

By the time the band arrived in Vancouver, the hype machine was in full swing. Tickets were

moving through the resale market for anywhere from face value to $500+ a pop, and suddenly I

found myself standing behind a barricade at one of the most iconic venues in the city, still having

barely heard the band I was there to photograph and review. And honestly? I loved that.

It’s not often, especially as a music journalist, that you get the opportunity to walk into a show

with virtually no expectations and experience a band completely on their own terms. Rather than

spending days listening to an album, researching a discography, and arriving with some

preconceived idea of what the night was supposed to be, I was able to fully immerse myself in

the experience.

What I witnessed was the culmination of a hype cycle that had clearly gone far beyond a simple

viral moment.

The Commodore was packed. The crowd was ravenous. Fans had created their own merch,

with homemade shirts and other pieces proudly being worn throughout the venue, while the

official merch booth maintained a lineup that seemingly never died down—even while the band

was performing. There was a genuine sense that something was happening here.

And then, without much warning, Angine de Poitrine took the stage. Or, more accurately, they appeared behind a curtain.

The lack of production was almost comical when compared to the level of anticipation in the

room. There were no elaborate video backdrops, no giant lighting package, no backing tracks,

and no dramatic intro sequence. Just a curtain, two musicians, and a room full of people waiting

to see what all the fuss was about.

Then the curtain dropped. Kyn and Klek appeared in their now-iconic poses, and the Commodore absolutely erupted. Whatever questions I had walking into the venue disappeared almost immediately. Angine de Poitrine somehow managed to turn the limitations of being a two-piece into their greatest strength. Kyn stood centre stage with the ever-elusive dual-neck guitar/bass combination, while Klek sat behind the drums, and together the two created a sound that felt far

larger than the number of people actually producing it.

There were no traditional vocals to anchor the performance. No elaborate lyrical moments for the crowd to scream back. At times, Kyn would grunt or make the occasional vocalization, but for the most part, the music was allowed to speak for itself. And somehow, it worked.

For roughly an hour and fifteen minutes, the pair simply grooved. There was something almost refreshing about watching a band strip the live performance down to its most basic components. Two people, their instruments, and an audience that was more than willing to meet them halfway. The energy coming from the stage wasn't manufactured through production tricks—it was generated by the musicians themselves and amplified by a crowd that had clearly bought into the entire Angine de Poitrine universe.

That’s ultimately what surprised me most about the show. I expected a novelty. I got a performance.

The band’s visual identity is obviously a massive part of their appeal, but once the music started,

it became clear that the gimmick could only take you so far. There has to be something underneath it to keep a room like the Commodore engaged for seventy-five minutes, and Angine de Poitrine has that something.

Their performance felt raw, weird, intentionally stripped back, and completely uninterested in

following the usual rules of what a rock show is supposed to look like. And then, almost as quickly as they appeared, they disappeared.

The curtain came back down. That was it. No encore. No “one more song.” No fake walk-off followed by a few minutes of screaming from the audience before the band returned to the stage. Just the curtain closing and the show ending. And strangely enough, I think it was the perfect way to finish.

I’m not even sure how you cap a performance built almost entirely around raw enthusiasm with an encore. The mystery is part of the appeal. Angine de Poitrine appeared, delivered an hour and fifteen minutes of unapologetic energy, and vanished almost as quickly as they were revealed.

Walking out of the Commodore, I still wasn’t sure I completely understood Angine de Poitrine. But I understood the hype. Going into the show, I had been the person asking, “Why?” Coming out, I was asking myself a very different question: “How the hell did I miss this?”

For a band that, at least from the outside, seemed to come out of nowhere, Angine de Poitrine

have managed to create something surprisingly difficult to manufacture: genuine curiosity,

genuine community, and an audience that desperately wants to be part of whatever happens

next.

The viral moment may have started the conversation. But judging by three sold-out Vancouver shows, it certainly wasn’t what finished it.