Treben'dle

This legendary Cambridge, ON, trio have been around for years, but are Canada's best-kept secret — simply because they are a band that you either get or you don't. For those who dare, their second release is a chock full of mathematical garage insanity that constantly evolves like a cartoon soundtrack composed by Ritalin-addicted musicians. They are godsons to the legendary Gorp, the estranged, removed cousins of Frank Zappa and Captain Beefheart, and stepsons to Fugazi, and even Tristan Psionic (mind you, in a very distanced kind of way). The album has this feel they shred through the 17 tracks from start to finish, and although the affair sounds rather loose vocally, their rhythmic attack is so tight that a case of WD-40 (perhaps drunk by the band members and not topically administered) would hardly make a dent. That is the amusing charm of this band — a dichotomy of professionalism versus a punk attitude of irreverence — and in a live setting they can send normal types running out screaming or have people pummelled with awe.