Montreal’s Corridor have long been the reigning kings (or perhaps overlords, considering the album’s title) of Quebec’s alternative scene. Their signature sound of classic post-punk twisted into shapes so unexpected, they’d make Salvador Dalí raise an eyebrow. Their latest offering, “Mimi” (named after frontman Jonathan Robert’s feline muse), is no exception.
This record is a collage of influences that a particularly curious cat might assemble after a night raiding the record collection. Opener “Phase IV” sets the tone with computer blips that ping-pong between your ears like a mischievous kitten batting at a yarn ball. “Jump Cut” throws down a dizzying arpeggiator tap dance that wouldn’t be out of place in a Stereolab fever dream.
The guitars still retain that whip-crack energy Corridor are known for, but they’re now adorned with a newfound richness thanks to the addition of multi-instrumentalist Samuel Gougoux. “Mourir Demain” is a prime example – it explodes from the speakers with the theatricality of a prog-rock opera, only to glide gracefully towards the horizon with a touch of Dungen or Alcest thrown in for good measure. These moments make “Mimi” such a compelling listen; it’s constantly shifting gears, keeping you guessing but never losing its sense of cohesion.
Lyrically, “Mimi” delves into the curious territory of maturing gracefully, or perhaps more accurately, questioning the very notion of “graceful” aging. There’s a delightful absurdity to frontman Robert’s introspection. In “Mourir Demain,” he explores the existential dread that creeps in when you find yourself comparing life insurance plans and writing wills. It’s a relatable angst wrapped up in a psychedelic package that’s both amusing and strangely familiar, like your therapist moonlighting as a mariachi band leader.
The beauty of “Mimi” lies in its refusal to take itself too seriously. It’s a record brimming with playful chaos, a kaleidoscope of sounds that flit between krautrock explorations that sound like a lost Kraftwerk jam session (“Mon Argent”), dreamy pop whispers that wouldn’t be out of place serenading a mermaid (“Pellicule”), and bursts of pure noise that land with a satisfying dissonance.
So, is “Mimi” a purrfect record? Not quite. There’s a sense that some of the songs could benefit from a little more focus – the occasional sonic tangent feels more like a distraction than an exploration. However, these are minor quibbles in the face of such a consistently engaging and enjoyable listen. After all, who wants a perfectly well-behaved cat anyway? A little bit of feline unpredictability is what makes them so darn interesting.
Ultimately, “Mimi” is a record that reveals hidden sonic treasures and clever lyrical observations with each spin. Anyone who enjoys their post-punk served with a generous helping of psychedelic flair will enjoy its all-too-brief 32-minute journey. Like any good cat, “Mimi” may scratch you once or twice with a dissonant chord, but ultimately, it’ll win you over with its undeniable charm.
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