Scattered across the planet just as they hit full stride, this is the smoldering crater where Le Flange du Mal once had us dancing, exhorting riot, reviving possibilities of an armed music, from bent circuits, in doubled vocals, with Korg PolySix, horn, bells, and rugless-drums constantly crawling off stage. As drunken-master slam dancers exhausted themselves, the band clinched us in full blown melodies, earnest and unforgettable, too close for us to punch back.

Get ready to bawl when you hear this lost, caustic album from a dark, danceable, no-guitar, high speed synth and horn band at the turn of the millennium. Tears came easily enough back then: endless war; Dick Cheney in the nuclear throne; church, military, and global finance all in fascist lock-step at the rise of our present monoculture. Paranoia had never been more justified. Freaks, idealists, and artists possessed of wit and political conscience found no quarter, no succor. And in that time of total surveillance, a classic of the age went virtually unnoticed.

Le Flange du Mal drew upon radical traditions, including Crass and Discharge both in style and lyric, barreling straight for the bizarre heart of the beast: Bush’s “Animal-Human Hybrids”, Chrysler bailouts, and visions of an annihilating Weather War. Though unreleased, this album now bobs to the surface, corpse-bright, brined by time and bloated with fermenting possibilities of the here and now.