Sergeant makes music as if they are editing a capricious film – cutting, pasting, and reassembling sounds into a vortex of unexpected twists. The trio – filmmaker/composer Benjamin Cools, searching-singing actor Ferre Marnef, and sonic angel Geraldine Vanspauwen – strikes a fragile balance between the angular sharpness of post-punk, the relentless drive of krautrock, and an unpredictable pop energy that makes your heart beat faster.

‍Their sound is a plunderphonic chaos of broken rhythms and clashing textures: always in motion, never quite in balance. It is as if The Avalanches are throwing a party with pagan whistles, distorted bells, and dubby bass lines. Whistles screech as if trying to sprint away from the beat, and melodies shatter into chaotic joyrides. Imagine Micachu & The Shapes playing hopscotch with Robert Wyatt, or Sonic Youth dissolving in a glass of sparkling water with vodka — bubbly, intoxicating, but in the end mercilessly honest.

‍Live, Sergeant drives their music to experimental heights, whipping tracks up to a feverish intensity and rearranging them into something even more untamed. The space fills with foolish criticism, a controlled stumble, a sound that keeps running even when it no longer knows where it is going.