Gyroscope

Montreal’s Gyroscope likely are confronted by rolled eyes when people find they are an instrumental "post-rock” band in a city which seems to breed them like damp kitchens breed silverfish. Listening to Contre Le Bruit however, it becomes apparent that the band isn’t grasping a passing Godspeed coattail to drag them along. The opener, "Naine Rouge,” is driven by a soft Rhodes pulse that propels itself backwards to an early ’70s art rock, which was much warmer than this century’s prophecies. The quartet is also proficient at creating quiet textures amongst the swelling upward slopes; "St-Camile Piano Bar” could be an interlude from Dark Side of the Moon, for example. There’s also a knack for crossing subtle musical boundaries, such as on "Tel Quel,” which threatens to settle itself into a light funky jam only to evolve into a slight grandeur over the course of its five minutes. Gyroscope prove that Montreal may not be permanently sepia-toned and on fire after all.