DVTR are on the rise

"We love saying we're a punk band because we know it triggers people," Jean Divorce smirks. "We could be an electro-clash band but that's more fun to me," he says of his and partner Demi Lune's nefariously cheeky intentions. But, being able to easily ruffle the feathers of the laughably stringent punk ranks is just one facet of this new French-Canadian duo's intentions.

Having only been around for a year – their latest single "Les flics (sont des sacs à merde)" fell on the anniversary – they've already deeply established their motives – the francophone duo are here to fuck about. "In the beginnings of this band we only wanted to have fun, we are best friends," Lune offers. Between her and her partner Divorce, they're a yin-yang of chaotic proportions. "We do what we want to do," she nonchalantly shrugs, continuing, "It's not overthinking something, 'What can I do on stage to be cool?' What can I do?' I want to do that. So I will do that."

This all stems from their origins. Lune and Divorce were already members of Le Couleur. A more polished, indie, disco-pop outfit, it's a far cry from the rabble-rousing riots they're becoming infamous for now. They cite a specific gig in Birmingham, back in 2022, as their breaking point. "There was two people in the in the room. It was a shitty show," Divorce recounts to me. "And we just said, 'Okay, let's do the craziest stuff ever; get drunk and whatever during the show.' We did that, and it was the most fun ever. So then every show we did after that was just like, 'Okay, let's try to go crazier and crazier and do anything we want'…I guess it broke something. Can you say that it broke something in our heads? We're broken now and we can't do anything serious!" the pair cackle gleefully.

While Le Couleur has been around since 2010, before this Divorce was a feature in various bands, leaning even further away from his newfound freedom in DVTR. Referring to them as being more "In the old way of thinking about bands and shows…like you want to be cool, and mysterious – and I think nobody gives a shit about that anymore…everybody just wants to have fun," he continues. "When you go see a show, I think that the wall has been broken between the artists and the public because nowadays nobody's a legend. You won't meet people in a show that puts you on a pedestal. I think if you try to do that nowadays, you're in a weird, egocentric bubble," he reckons.

This line of thought is in keeping with his punk background. Referencing the likes of Jay Reatard and his ilk, it was in channelling these free spirits that Divorce sought to platform Lune's newfound vicariously outlandish attitude: "One of the reasons I wanted to convince you to start a band," he nods to Lume, "was that she's a real friggin riot grrl, man. She's crazy. To me, she's the best front woman ever." Softly blushing at this gesture, Lume's distaste for Zoom conversations and gently broken English feel a far cry from the wild-eyed performances posted online.

Continuing with his explanation of the band's origins, Divorce adds, "I was like, okay, we need to get you on a show that lets you do whatever the fuck you want. And I think it was a good call...was it good?" He laughs towards Lume, who nods in agreement. Having been fronting Le Couleur she mentions that the centre is her "comfortable zone," but "DVTR is the crazy side of me. I'm 41 years old, so I'm old now. I am not young, and I have the experience to feel the stage, and feel the music, feel the crowd, and be myself in [this kind of] project," she explains.

Wanting to ruffle feathers they set about concocting their visceral barrage of punk and power. Most of their songs found their start as ditties the duo would sing between themselves, often into the early, woozy hours: "We were basically doing parties in the summer, and just going out and singing songs to ourselves before the band for fun," Divorce explains. "Then we just took all these ideas and did the songs for fun one day." With everything clicking into place, it wasn't long before their Le Couleur manager signed them up – another example of DVTR being a process of circumstance and fate, rather than a wholly drawn-out plan.

Thanks to this wanton outlook, they already have last year's BONJOUR EP and a couple of singles under their belt – all out on Lisbon Lux records. The only real hill the pair die on is they won't be a band beholden to albums and cycles. "We're jumping on that kind of the 'new' idea of not releasing an album and just releasing singles whenever you can," Divorce confirms. Instead, DVTR are led by their whims. Currently recording whilst on the road, this is even giving their sound a new facet. They want to use the most-minimal setup's possible, from ignoring the convention of experimenting with sounds ("We'll use the same freakin' plugins that everybody uses"), to even when they're over in Europe for the Quebec Spring tour, it'll just be Divorce, Lume, a guitar, a synth-pad, and a barrel-load of spirit – there's nary an amp in sight: "I just plug it straight into the console…old school boomers of rock and roll would say I'm a piece of shit for doing that," Divorce laughs.

DVTR is a project born out of the deepest necessities of human reaction and interaction. "Some songs are seriously just made up to trigger people," the pair laugh. "We have a song against the industry of milk, because it's big in Canada. I don't know about you guys, but I mean, it's a racket nobody needs milk. It just pushes that agenda because there's a lot of milk workers in Canada...but honestly, we don't care about the industry of the milk. But we know it's gonna trigger some people and it's gonna be funny to see."

But, the pair have discovered that as the internet's vivacious appetite for the obscene and the questionable grows, so does its inability to be shocked. Divorce admits that he assumed "We were going to get a lot of shit about some of the things we put out, and we've discovered that nobody can be shocked anymore with everything that happens everywhere," he shrugs cooly. Lume, musing momentarily, contests: "I don't know...with the song 'Vasectomia' we had some." "We had some hate on TikTok because she's getting aborted while singing the song during the video – so it's quite a graphic video but I mean in general we had no media…and then it was kids on TikTok, like Catholic kids freaking out. I mean nothing heavy…but TikTok is wild. They're fucking nasty people, it's so toxic."

While politics creeps into their music (Vasectomy's for all, ACAB, Big Milk etc), they aren't party-driven. After a brief conversation about our respective countries' paths (the UK with a dim light appearing at the end of our Tory tunnel, Canada creeping closer towards theirs apparently), the pair stress they're apolitical when it comes to such matters. "We're not that directly invested emotionally in the political scene," Divorce admits. "We've seen it in the past years, but all these political parties and politicians trying to polarise the people so everybody gets into these bubbles, and everybody gets more and more stupid and convinced of their weird ideas from both sides as well." A move into a more conservative government would mean inevitable cuts to Canada's famed arts funding, which has enabled the exporting of bands for decades – via such packages as the Quebec Spring tour – which Divorce does recognise: "I mean, this is real tangible consequences of politics, so in the end, it does fuel something but we're not angry about politics…not directly." "Maybe a bit cynical," Lume pipes up, as Divorce adds, "Yeah, I think anybody can change anything."

In terms of ambitions, the duo have far exceeded their initial plans which was to simply get the project off the ground. Having been to various countries already including Mexico – they recognise an intriguing limitation in singing solely in French: "I think that's a nice aspect of the band...it's this crazy playground of word plays and political things and going super intense on polarising subjects...how is all this going to get across? How does the energy transpires?" Divorce offers. The main hope is the spirit translates, particularly here in the UK: “There's no no politeness,” Divorce laughs. “You can say fuck off to anybody in the street, and they're just going to laugh and tell you fuck off and it's going to be all good!”

With their releases stacking up – including a hush-hush future release bound to antagonise a few Parisians – keeping the ball rolling is as simple as it gets. "I don't want to be disappointed about this band if something doesn't happen," Lume admits. "In the last year it's really good...so why change?" "She's saying there's a lot of stuff going on," Divorce interjects. "And you know, sometimes you have a band and you just want things to happen, but we've been lucky enough that recently people have been calling us for shows and whatever. So it's short term right now. If we can get to September right now without dying from all the shows and the parties - that's my goal right now," the pair cackle into each other.