Getting into an album by Cyril Cyril is being invited to a party where you thought you didn't know anyone, only to realize that this chap's gal is your bro's cuz, and leave with everyone's cell.

Their music seems familiar because it's not deaf to its neighbors, in the broadest sense : Geneva, their lair, Europe, their playground as a duo, and the world, their grocery store.

There's plenty in those two heads, but just the two of them on stage. For their third Born Bad album, they have invited two lads from Orchestre Tout Puissant Marcel Duchamp, Ines Mouzoune, multi-instrumentalist from Amami, and Violeta Garcia's cello on Le Futur ca marche pas.

On the ruins of Switzerland, people dance hard but consciously, and won't complain about them having a go at the homeland - notably in " Sweetzerland Bunker Love ", where they claim it's time to "free the money from the banks".

There's something rotten in the state, wherever it may be, and they prefer to put its fall to music.

And they're not shy about it, either: this album features heavy guitar/drums text-driven ballads (beautiful "Mensonge" opens the album with a certain gravitas), polyrhythmic noisy drum splatter with crafty vocal knitting ("Plus rien a? faire"), deconstructed and harmonically ambitious compositions ("Les Phoenix de l'amour"), and latino frogs croaks, because yes, why not.

Since their previous efforts "Certaine Ruines" and "Yallah Mickey Mouse", it turns out that the future isn't working out so badly for the two Cyrils.

(Not so) Quietly sitting on crates of records, they patiently build their sound. Never tired of sick networks and never-ending struggles, Cyril Cyril is a rousing mess, shouting out the common spleen while still managing to have a good laugh.