Two Parisian dabblers, an output that is described as a blend of things 'garage, stoner, punk, psych rock and anything else they can crank through their fuzz pedals into a wild, electrifying ride'.  Having been around for approximately 10 years and touring across Europe this release on Majestic Mountain Records has me wondering what kind of spillage I will be drowned by (despite the aforementioned description).  I am happy to take my time and ponder before tapping out a few thoughts.  I play, repeat, roll around the palate some more and have the following feedback.

'Heroine' military rolls in before a fine grind groove takes hold.  Doped drawls duly slag-scrawl and crawl across the grimy fuzz-fuck underlay and leave a slug-trail that glistens with an untrustworthy virulence.  The flow is middling, the accents absorbed and slightly twisted, the inescapable feeling of rockers wallowing is pervasive. The song has a discomforting weight, a semi-breakdown seems to bring a well-timed ending but the song labours on and for me at least, just overcooks matters.  Shave off the last 1 minute 50 seconds and I think matters would be enhanced (I am sure these are my punky instincts kicking in).

Track the second and 'Bring Me Down' once again relies on a magnetic lick and a mid-paced tempo that has moments of semi-zipping zest amidst quagmire wallows of cloying disease.  In some ways the robotic-style of vocal delivery is slightly tattooed with a gothic element and tints tortured.  The whole mix has a contrast and compliment factor that just falls onto the right side of 'listenable.  Haunting hints come to the fore, metalised leanings barely kiss the end orchestration and the general twist drive just holds matters together.  It is a song with a sable blade ready to cut down those brandishing weapons of negativity - I think this is a fully justified state of play.

The third track is a really floating fuzz flow that just oh so slightly suggests things Sugar-ised.  'Stray From The Path' operates over a really grubby substrate and rolls forth at a lazy rate with all components happy to laze and loaf in the swirling motes of melody.  This is one of those moments where I ask myself 'why am I liking this number' and coming up with no definitive answers.  A smouldering mover akin to a steaming dung heap that radiates a stench both perversely appealing but polluting.  The tonal quality has grungey elements, as well as things very 'stoned' out.  It is a rich tapestry of grime.

To assist the flow of the analysing text I pick out a fistful of three and hammer out Fungalised feedback in a swifter style.  'My Way' has a bouncing opening that continues throughout and gives the song a real vibro-vitality.  From the electro-active shockings of the rather stable verses comes a fascination release of musical glory that is really a CD zenith not to be questioned.  The whole construct is given extra life and a greater depth and exposes a band very much adept at producing many a trick.  2 aspects of cacophonic delivery, both combining to make a really convincing treat.  'Going Thru The Blue Part 2' is a dirty shit-wallower, laden with unclean tones, musty malevolence and a motif that is nagging and holistically heavy duty.  A real sludge-core shambler with a hazy dope feel that does well to last the course.  As a follow-on from the previous beauty this one is a decent contrast and so gets by with all aspects intact and without an assessing dig.  The last of the grasped hat-trick is the title track, namely 'Clair Obscur', a neatly posted reckless track of a certain abandon that is just about held in check and passed off as something listenable.  The more I delve into the mucky melodic mire the more I am fascinated and charmed.  I like grubby grinds played with a relaxed manner.  With the cymbals splashing, the skins hammered and the general wire work all scuzzed up this allows for a foundation on which the vocalist can holler - it all works mighty well.

'The Fastest Ride' scuzz-shuffles in a most awkward way before the lo-fi gob lilts come and the tympanics nervously flutter away and add to an arrangement that at first unsettles but then eventually wins a little trifling of favour.  An unconventional and confounding number that duly addlepates and sends the attentive senses in many ways.  There is a lot going on here with some moments a comforting pleasure and others a piquing pain - this though is not a gripe.  It is good to keep any lug-lender on the cusp, the job done here is more than adequate and the theme of the CD so far is highly consistent - oh yeah.

4 to go, my sonic socks are hitched up.  'Anything' is pure quagmire cacophony that gets hold of the limbs and drags one down into a glutinous and cloying morass of fetid vibrating vegetation. The end result is a long drawn out death knoll that stinks to utter fuckery.  The players are slayers of the senses and seem oblivious to the suffering they cause.  I am taken and repulsed, the mood must be right to offer myself as a sacrifice to the sonic slutchery - I walk on tiptoes and am not a total convert here but we all need some sinking swamp music at times.

'Winter Holiday v Fuzzroutine' swings straight in and is a right frayed character with the locks of rhythm uncombed and flowing and the acoustic attire well worn and ragged.  Relaxed to the extreme and something has me pondering old school hippie-fest dabblings where the bearded and bombed artistes took to the stage and became as one with their racket.  There is a charm within this state of play although I am no hippie and found the whole 'Make Love, Not War' fiasco an excuse to screw around and get hammered.  All show no substance (plenty of substances) unlike the song here which has good wallop and a gnawing edge.  The main gyp I have is that the songs lasts too long, bah - I can't help my punk slamdunk leanings.  'How Now' follows, it is a pleasing adventure into some well-billowed recesses of rhythm.  The song is of a simple orchestration, a repeatoid promise in some respects that just nags away and gets the reviewer in tune.  A creeping start with stealth and nakedness apparent - it isn't long before intensity rises and we are caught up in a brief tidal flow before matters re-run.  Not a bad dig baby!

Closure and 'The Oswald Cobblepot Complex' baffles the cranial juices with its name alone.  From secretive vestibules of barely touched tonality I await a bomb-blast, the instrumentalisation is in no rush and as we pass the halfway point the soporific and drowsy values are upheld in a song that is a mere dope eyed drift into the final silence.  Music to massage the senses, the closing groove leaves one semi-thrilled and then we are... finished. Strange stuff!

A mix of many flavours that makes for a sonic soup only to be tasted at certain points in one's musical week.  Too much of this will give the shits of disappointment, the odd indulgence will keep the tastebuds alive and leave one with enough curiosity to want a little more.  I have fed at the trough, had a guzzle and have avoided a vicious puke flow - I hope this suggests things half decent, I also hope I have been fair here and captured the essence - hopeless I say, tis all hopeless.