Sergeant makes music like editing an erratic film – cutting, splicing, and reassembling sounds into a whirlwind of unexpected turns. The trio – filmmaker/composer Benjamin Cools, search-singing actor Ferre Marnef, and sonic angel Geraldine Vanspauwen – strike a delicate balance between post-punk’s jagged edges, krautrock’s relentless drive, and an unpredictable pop energy that keeps your heart racing.

Their sound is a plunderphonic mess of fractured rhythms and clashing textures: always on the move, never in balance. It’s like The Avalanches throwing a party with pagan whistles, distorted bells, and dubby basslines. Flutes squawk as if they’re trying to outrun the beat, and melodies splinter into chaotic joyrides. Imagine Micachu & The Shapes playing hopscotch with Robert Wyatt, or Sonic Youth dissolving in a glass of sparkling water and vodka—fizzy, intoxicating, yet brutally honest at the end.

Live, Sergeant stretch their music to experimental heights, pushing songs into a fever pitch, scrambling them into something even more untamed. The room fills with foolish critique, a controlled stumble, a sound that keeps running even when it’s lost track of where it’s headed.