The ancient fathers of post-rock? The least skillful prog band ever? The answer is somewhere in between: Wapassou show, through atonal and obsessive symphonies like Rien or the heartfelt noir crescendo Chatiment that there is no clear mark between depressive madness, cold fever and music. Even in a world of green giant gorgos, like the long final suite (?) Trip which sure stays up to its title of titlation.
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