Now I'm no barometer of the Canadian indie scene, but I suspect my recent discoveries are fairly typical of something happening throughout English Canada. Quebec's hopping music scene's been on fire for years now, what with Montreal living out its "new Seattle" tag to the envy of everywhere else, but despite the buzz it's only recently that francophone acts have really captured my attention. I'm anything but bilingual, but damn do the latest records from Malajube and now Les Breastfeeders make me regret bailing on those classes in high school.

Regardless of language Les Matins de Grands Soirs succeeds on boundless energy. From the first chorus of "Viens Avec Moi" Les Breastfeeders' second full-length grabs hold with the dueling vocals of Luc Brien and Suzie McLeLove. Three guitars laying down classic garage riffs over a killer rhythm section don't hurt either. That rhythm section, by the way, features a dedicated tambourine player. If nothing else that speaks to how frenetic and simply fun this band is. McLeLove's vocals are a highlight of the record, and any every time she takes the lead it elevates the whole work. Her sweet melodies stand in stark contrast to Brien's punky rasp, adding a strong yé-yé undercurrent that sets the band apart. For his part Brien maintains the edge, giving Les Breastfeeders a bouncy garage punk feel not unlike Sweden's Randy.

"En Dansant le Yah!" is just drenched in surf guitar, sounding two steps away from Shadowy Men on a Shadowy Planet with a call-and-response chorus. They probably wouldn't like the comparison, but for all the `60s garage influences I keep hearing the playful punk guitars of Out Come the Wolves on here. That yé-yé influence pops up in "Funny Funiculaire" and "Où Allez-Vous si Vite," both of which are simply mesmerizing. After answering Iggy Pop with "Tu n'es Pas Mon Chien" they close with the cool pop of "Septembre Sous La Pluie," which is straight from Carl Newman's songbook and wouldn't have felt out of place on Twin Cinema.

Les Matins de Grands Soirs is a phenomenal record. I wish I had the slightest clue what was going on lyrically, but to tell the truth I can't make out what a lot of English punk bands are saying anyways. You'd be cheating yourself if you let language stop you from checking this out, because there's a wonderful party going on here that needs no translator.