Malajube

The Canadian invasion continues. As beleaguered United States of Americans feverishly build a wall to protect ourselves from our freeloading, funny-talking neighbors to the north, Malajube amasses an arsenal of prismatic guitar riffs, irrepressible synth licks and infernally catchy tunes that get inside our heads and cause us to smile without due cause. This Québécois outfit perversely mates balls-out dance-punk workouts and cacophonous frenzies with lilting choruses and sweet, hummable melodies as infectious as bird flu. To make matters worse, where other confessed members of this international noise conspiracy placate us by speaking American, the ne’er-do-wells of Malajube brazenly and cheekily refuse to speak our language — sticking instead to some kind of French-Canadian mumbo jumbo. While we admit we’re not exactly sure what the sonic terrorists are saying, we’re pretty certain they’re talking about stealing our jobs and our women. Trouble is, we’re having so much damn fun dancing and singing along that we can’t bring ourselves to fight back.