‘I’m suffocating and evaporating, The present is squeezed to dust, Snow is melting down in my cup, And I fill my bottle with your sweat’ (Drip)

Deep Fried Bitches is the debut album from Parisian trio My Dog’s A Bear.  It is an exploration of the experimental hinterlands of post-hardcore, laced through with a distinctive art punk inclination. As such, it marries two intriguingly contrasting elements.

The first is a sense of space, the willingness to allow the songs to breathe and find their own equilibrium.  This expansiveness is nurtured by the resonant clarity of the production – the warm thrum of the bass lines, the crystalline guitar, and the crisp punch of the percussion (deliciously accented by the deft cymbal work) – which feels lush yet somehow spartan at the same time.

The second is a restless sense of invention that seems to assert itself ever more confidently, almost as if the album is deconstructing itself as it progresses.  Flirtations with no wave minimalism and noise rock fervour are indulged with equal relish.

Meanwhile, the lead vocals segue from the stridently melodic to the conspiratorially whispered, aided and abetted by the energetically off-kilter backing.  They delve with a fractured obliqueness into nightmarish web of climatic breakdown, predatory behaviours, and vulnerability in the face of an exploitative economic system.

From the tautly convulsing opener Drip to the brooding escalation of Warm And Soft and the agitated exultations of Chain Hoist, it proves an entrancing blend.  One that lulls you into its languorously unfurling soundscapes, before jarring you back to reality with an unapologetic delight.