y now it ought to be obvious that “things” are happening up in Montreal—Spin printed a map of the place, for crying out loud. Most people, distracted by the glare of a certain Fire, probably won’t find themselves looking deeper than avant stalwarts Godspeed You! Black Emperor; it’s a shame, of course, because beneath the hype lies a complicated web of collaborations, side projects, and offshoots doing quite interesting things. Et Sans forms one such point in the constellation that is the Montreal experimental scene (someone at Cosmic Baseball should start a Canadian noisemaker fantasy league); they’ve expanded to a quintet since their first release, with Felix Morel (Le Fly Pan Am), Sophie Trudeau (GY!BE, A Silver Mt. Zion), and Stephen de Oliveira joining original members Roger T. Craig (Le Fly Pan Am) and Alexandra St-Onge (Shalabi Effect).

Par noussss touss les trous de vos crânes! starts with “La Chosen uevenue Du L'amonc element spectral Du Mal,” which clocks in at almost five-and-a-half minutes, by far the shortest track of the four on the album (it’s also the shortest song title—brevity being somewhat frowned upon in these circles). A simple, blippy rhythm surrounded by shimmering moans and clouds of reverb creates a vague feeling of menace that sets the tone for what’s to come; the knuckle-y tapping that emerges from the static haze toward the end is a rather Lynchian touch.

On “Une Bouche Vegetale, Des Creatures Soufflent dessecetions Du Tout Fout Le Camp,” things get scary. Over a curiously weak Velvet Underground stomp, something that sounds like a big, confused bird gets murdered by squalling distortion. Seriously, it sounds like the things getting passed through an airplane engine in slow motion, not to mention approaching Chicken-Lady-from-Kids-in-the-Hall annoying. It’s feral to the point of tedium—almost as tedious as the plod of the rhythm section. Fortunately, these wayward vocal excursions blend well with the surrounding guitar screech, and when more “normal” vocals appear, they recall Kurt Cobain’s tuneful slur. The 18-minute piece eventually moves into organ drone, electronic twitters and faint hand claps supported by a slow kick drum, before a more urgent, up-tempo passage in which simple “ba-ba ba-ba” female backing vocals constitute a significant improvement over the earlier avian death-throes. It all pulls together nicely, then decays into urgent back-and-forth moans, more drone, and a jangly tambourine, eventually ending in hiss. This might be what Clinic would sound like if they were being honest in claiming “Sister Ray” as their favorite VU song.

Over a plodding piano, “Mademoiselle Ogive untrmblement Osseux Dans Le Derriere,” provides drones that are variously choral, ethereal, fuzzed, and phased, with various strands drifting in and out of recognizable forms, while a cast of voices sing, speak, and whisper. Inevitably, drone and voice intermingle, becoming nearly indistinguishable. Here, as with other points in the album, Et Sans conjures a mood that resembles real ghostliness—the tingle of the uncertain, the warped familiar, as opposed to the pretty, drifty stuff that often passes for supernatural (certain Icelanders, I’m looking at you here). When I have nightmares, Freddy Kreuger ain’t what torments me—it’s trying to figure things out, to make out the disturbing, illusory presence that often is not visible; this feeling isn’t some presence that’s lurking around the corner, it’s an all-encompassing, pervasive fear. Par noussss… toys with this atmosphere, although it doesn’t invoke it so successfully as to be truly frightening.

The final track, “Les Courbes Sanglantes Entendues De L'Organe Trop Vraiment Hallucine,” kicks off with a lively, recognizable drum kit, bass line, and organ riff, nibbled at the edges by digital snakes wrapped in paper. Here repetition is used exceptionally, evoking a skipping record at times, as well as the rhythmic appeal of good ol’ rock-and-roll. It’s post-teenage lust, The Stooges gone art-school—and it’s not half bad. The digital tomfoolery gets a bit overbearing at points, like a clichéd solo in the midst of an otherwise great song—get on with it already—but it’s not enough to seriously harm the overall feel. The Bird-Death vocals even make a cameo at the end, but it’s more like they’re visiting from the afterlife—and this time they actually complement the song instead of bleeding and vomiting all over it.

Par noussss… is an admirable effort, if somewhat excessive—the whole thing would feel like an EP if the songs weren’t so damn long. Members of GY!BE always contend that despite their orchestral maneuvers, they’re just playing rock music. Et Sans hold true to that approach, which is where this album falls short—the enthusiasm for exploring rock’s boundaries is there, but in the end, the truly innovative ideas are not.