From the banks of Jordan of Benoit Arcand: (Translated by Emily Estelle Belanger)

FET.NAT. is a rock before the storm, with good manners but mud in his eyes — in the street, in the backyard, in the gut. Poule mange poule calls for another flood to come muck out the stables. Less eschatologist than charitable counter-culturalist, he shoulders the ark of the aberrant and carries it through a night in hell. He’s either Atlas or the invisible man, shying from the beat, channeling the “free” in rock and oozing truth from his pores, even as hope is lost in the decline of poetic resistance.