Live Report: Angine De Poitrine at Vicar Street

OK Zoomer! Let’s scrub the idea that the Angine de Poitrine phenomenon is (solely) a Gen Z trend, because judging by the sheer volume of grey-haired, soft-bellied, ageing hipsters in the house tonight (present company definitely not excepted), it seems that the bizarrely attired French-Canadian math-rockers have actually crossed the generational divide. Unless, that is, the older attendees are merely here on parental chaperone duties, though they would hardly need to go to such lengths as to attire themselves in the group’s trademark polka dots if they were just here as babysitters – it must actually be that the Boomers and the TikTokers (and those in between) really do just dig the music, man.

The music? That is what Angine de Poitrine are all about, after all, but when a band opts to take to the stage in full-body polka-dotted garb with bizarre papier-mache masks including novelty oversized noses, the question must be asked: do they care about the tunes at all, or are they using a gimmick to, ahem, mask sonic deficiencies?
On tonight’s (and all other available) evidence, that is definitely not the case – the duo play with a tightness, propulsion and cohesion that would cause jaws to drop even if they took to the stage in a jeans and T-shirt. And those jaws drop even further when you realise they’re doing it in these cumbersome, restrictive outfits.

Angine de Poitrine at Vicar Street on October 16th, 2026. Copyright Jason Doherty/hotpress.com

So should they just ditch the gimmicks and let the music speak for itself (and give themselves an easier and less sweat-drenched night at the office)?

Nah. Purists will always gripe that you should stand or fall on the quality of the music, but have any of them ever packed out a venue with a multi-generational audience decked out in polka-dotted garb?

So, would you listen to Angine de Poitrine if they didn’t wear endearingly daft costumes? Hell yeah. But are they more fun live than on record? Probably yes, though as the duo lock into the tight, kinetic groove of opener Angor, it’s clear that costume gimmickry is not the reason for this – their music has a euphoric vibe that needs to be heard at bone-shaking volume in front of a celebratory audience to get the full impact.

Angine de Poitrine at Vicar Street on October 16th, 2026. Copyright Jason Doherty/hotpress.com

The group’s live act is finely honed – the songs sometimes lack a range of moods and dynamics, generally being all propulsive forward momentum, but the duo build the atmosphere with beguiling, elongated between-song segments, full of bizarre alien babble and mysterious hand gestures between the two band members. The crowd are ready to pop when Yor Zard, the second song of the evening, kicks in, prompting the first outbreak of moshing from the Zoomers down front (thankfully a safe distance from the older, less exuberant and more injury-prone attendees).

And ‘pop’ is the key word here, because Angine, for all their wild eccentricity and virtuoso musicianship, are, at heart, a pop group. Sure, other math-rockers might drag a decent audience out to Vicar Street on a Friday night, but would they tease them with a robotic ‘oggy oggy oggy’ refrain (during the frenetic Tamebsz)? And would they whip the attendees into such a state of giddiness that the crowd would break into a spontaneous rendition of ‘Ole Ole Ole’ on at least two occasions? And would they then mimic the ‘Ole Ole Ole’ refrain with a sharp, dissonant guitar riff, as a playful-call-and-response with the crowd (during the intro to Mata Zyklek)?

Angine de Poitrine at Vicar Street on October 16th, 2026. Copyright Jason Doherty/hotpress.com

Pre-gig, one audience member behind this correspondent begins humming the opening refrain from Fabienk (one of the band’s standout tracks and a barnstorming penultimate song this evening) with impressive precision, before opining: ‘Jesus, that one is such a fuckin’ earworm’, and they aren’t wrong – Angine’s hooks may be complex and jagged, but they also have a peculiarly anthemic quality, and a grooviness, that really kicks in the live setting.

None more so than Sherpa, the snaking, irresistible rocker that brings tonight’s short and brilliantly sharp set to a close. One minor gripe, though: when a band wears face-concealing costumes and only communicates through mysterious alien babble, it can be unclear that they are intending to wrap their set and leave the stage; the duo deserved a hero’s farewell tonight, but instead sloped off to a slightly puzzled and muted response.

But hey, that’s the price you gotta pay for having a mysterious, enigmatic stage persona. And isn’t it one worth paying?