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I don’t care what your band sounds like–if you make a mockery out of something sacred in the music biz, I’m going to love you. So yay to Les Georges Leningrad for being such assholes at CMJ last year and literally dancing on banana peels. This Montreal “quartet” claims among its members a married couple and a ghost they met through a Ouija board; they routinely attack one another onstage and barely bother to play their instruments, even though it’s obvious they can–they almost out-Resident the Residents on a cover of “Constantinople.” The “petrochemical rock” on Deux Hot Dogs Moutarde Chou (recently rereleased on Alien8) is charmingly retarded, in a first-grade art project kind of way: staple-gun-and-dishpan beats, wobbly Joy Division bass lines, and limp synthesizers flop around aimlessly while singer Poney P jabs at the melodies with her shrill voice like a vulture atop a carcass, spitting out barbed syllables in French, English, or no language at all. She growls way too close to the mike, accentuating the harshest sounds in her range; it sounds like she’s trying to goad some sort of response out of the band’s deadbeat Dada shuffle, but she gets nothing–and if you’re just listening to the CD, you’ll get next to nothing yourself. But Les Georges Leningrad’s stage show–with its tacky-glamorous costumes, papier-mache props, and streaks of blood–makes it clear that the band is both a parody of and an assault on the audience’s apathy. With Glass Candy & the Shattered Theatre and Magas. $7; all ages. Friday, June 4, 8 PM, Texas Ballroom, 3012 S. Archer, third floor; 773-677-1353.