Paris Suit Yourself
My Main Shitstain
Out of Paris/Berlin comes a charmingly perturbing trans-genre rock collective whose mission statement is “to make the audience re-become animals.” Formed when lead vocalist Luvinsky Atche was exiled from his apartment and fatefully ended up in the domicile of band bassist/vocalist Marie Boye (responsible for the prior quote), Paris Suit Yourself is a band whose story and debut album is one of fluid chance; it just kind of streamed together into existence. “He [Luvinsky] had no place to go, and after that we just stuck together,” Marie said in an interview with Bearded Magazine. “We were talking with a friend we have in common, and we realized we had the same ideas about music, so we decided to start a band.”
And that’s pretty much it. There was no preconceived blueprint or any set structural plan; instead, they took an intrinsic approach and allowed their musical commonalities to spiritually harmonize. The next thing they knew, they had an album brashly titled My Main Shitstain.
Off record, the first words that come to mind after first listen are abrasive, belligerent, ragged, and flat-out chaotic – all descriptions that cohesively could describe a mess, but, in this case, don’t. That’s because, as artists, they are not haphazardly creating garage noise – as Marie stated, “Brutality without elegance is like trying to fit a square into a circle.” So rather than a wild circus, what the band ended up with is a compilation of 13 feral tracks which all make you want to move and bob your head as much as they make you want to grit your teeth. The album rages on from track one all the way to the end with recurring drum rhythms, deep and tribal beat patterns, Keith Levene-esque guitarmanship, and Luvinsky’s occasional frantic shrieks in both English and French.
There are also traces of the band’s musical influences sprinkled about the album, rounding off their debut effort into something that comes off as more substantial than it ever would as hollow. Hip-hop enthusiasts will be glad to hear the nod towards ODB’s “Shimmy Shimmy Ya” at the 1:55 mark of “Surprise”, while lovers of soul and blues will surely recognize Bo Diddley’s “I’m a Man” on “Rolling On”. There’s even a split moment of gospel near the end of “Lost My Girl”. Evident by their execution, Paris Suit Yourself stops at nothing to move their listeners both physically and internally with Shitstain.
Sure, the album title is about as random as their name and the way they originated, and yes, their sound is a crazy jumble of gritty, primal punk rebellion, but not for one moment does it not work. Openly stated, they have their shit together – no pun intended.
“not for one moment does it not work.” Obviously a great writer like what I am.
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