"J'adore Le Proletariat!"
Who are these neo-romantic, black leather and hot pink feather wearing freaks clawing down the doors of local record shops, pounding out the windows of sold-out venues, frothing at the mouth, their wide-eyed faces pointed toward a non-existent god begging for more...more...more? Why they are none other than rabid and rock-hungry fans of Mon Cousin Belge, the San Francisco based shock-glop group of glamor obsessed socialists, or as Belgian lead singer Emile would call them, "his people."
If you've lived in San Francisco or Los Angeles for the last three years and you do not know of whom I speak, then you have mistakenly and grievously overlooked the most exciting band to come up in many, many years. And now, with the release of their debut recording on their American label World Famous in San Francisco, Quelle Horreur (What Horror), the international spotlight is mere inches away from this band of fabulous lunatics, whose music has been described as "representing the farthest reaches of what glam once was and still promises to be."
The lead singer, Emile, a Belgian ex-pat, who speaks next to zero English and notoriously addicted to plastic surgery and Mahalia Jackson, possessing a four and a half octave singing range, leads his all-American band of faux-poseurs through all sorts of musical terrain, including full-blown assaults of post-punk ethos to hard core, soul-searching gospel and neo-thug anthems denouncing all things mediocre and less than fabulous.
"Half-naked, goo-spitting art rock in a sling never got so deliciously tawdry. When this San Francisco quartet of self-professed "bunch of fags with vision and bacon cheeseburgers" takes the stage and launches into "Tweaker Bitch" or "Pigdog" off their new album Quelle Horreur (World Famous in SF Records), anything involving titillating revulsion can happen and usually does." -- SF Guardian
"What the fuck is this? Antony & The Johnsons meets Nina Hagen in an S&M biker bar? ...[Emile's] voice soars to Alison (Yazoo) Moyet, paintpeeling proportions on the haunting rendition of the Roger Miller spiritual hymn, 'The Crossing' (a genius cover choice that puts Antony & The Johnsons to shame)" -- Jeff Penczak, Foxy Digitalis