From the achromatopsia-a-gogo of Benoit Arcand: (Translated by AnneMarie Papillon)

Rock music is best seen in black and white, and it never drifts far without clashes. Los spare this album’s artwork of any shades of grey. In a skewed mindset, it might even spark some waiting room shivers, a Club Med sensuality or a Saturnian meditation. The true colour of Romances lies at the opposite extreme of these hints of exposed sepia, fluorescent and pastel worlds. In the contrast of black and white, its vital force spreads; in the here and now of its congruent guitars, its absorbant bass, its flamboyant drumline, its fiery tongue reminding us that a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Black, the sombre promise of danger, of posibilities, of animal submissivness and heroic uprisings. White, the answer given at dusk, four songs caressing and squaring you off, then leaving you bloodless and without the memory at dawn.