A failed superhero. An alcoholic vampire. A macho knight. A tree turned lumberjack. At the center, an axe on trial. Who’s responsible? The tool or the hand? The act or the desire?
That’s the post-glam, grotesque, and surreal world of Strasbourg band BBCC’s new album, King Michael II and the Trial of the Axe. It pushes beyond the energy of its predecessor, wider in scope and sharper in contrast, where synths seem to laugh and fiction spills directly into the sound.
Musically, BBCC thrives on hypnotic repetition. Motifs snap into place within seconds and refuse to let go. The drums are fully live, pulsing and physical, driving everything forward. The energy builds, stacks up, and tips into euphoria. Cerebral, direct, and physical. You take the hit, then you grin.
The production is vivid and slightly off-center, structurally loose in all the right ways. There’s an art-pop instinct that echoes Brian Eno’s most adventurous period, alongside bursts of synthetic brightness and playful luminosity reminiscent of Kate NV. Vocals can be chanted, almost angular, before easing into something softer and more open.
Some tracks pull back, letting melody settle into a new, fragile softness that reframes the album’s density.
BBCC goes big. It’s ostentatious, dense, fully committed. Beneath the singularity is immediate pleasure. Beneath the complexity, clarity. You may not know exactly where it’s heading, but you’re in anyway.