The band's origin story is almost comically perfect. They didn't meet at a conservatoire or through some algorithmic Spotify playlist. They met in a restaurant kitchen. There is something almost mythologically appropriate about that — the proletarian furnace, the shared labour, the heat — and "Coup d'éclat" carries that origin in its bones. This is music forged in proximity and necessity, not curated in a bedroom.

Recorded in a remote wooden cabin during what the band describe as a gruelling winter, the track has a rawness that no amount of studio polish could manufacture. You can almost feel the cold in the edges of the production, the breath of something elemental haunting the frequencies. The decision to work with a sound engineer encountered on a previous tour rather than retreat to a commercial studio speaks volumes about the band's priorities: authenticity over convenience, the right ears over the right postcode.

Clément's guitar work is the song's structural spine and its most pyrotechnic pleasure. His influences — Deep Purple, Randy Rhoads, Guns N' Roses, Dire Straits — are worn openly, but never as costume. The guitar solo at the track's centre is the kind of thing that makes you look up from whatever you're doing. It is simultaneously a love letter to the golden age of rock heroism and a thoroughly contemporary statement of intent. There are guitar players who cite Ritchie Blackmore; there are guitar players who understand why he mattered. Clément appears to be one of the latter.

But a great guitar solo is only as powerful as the architecture around it, and Ermyte have built a formidable one. Loïc's vocals carry the blue-collar authority of a singer who has spent years developing something that cannot be taught: conviction. His blues-rooted delivery anchors the track's political fury without tipping into polemic. Sarah's drumming is relentless in the finest sense — not flashy, but load-bearing, the kind of drumming that makes a room feel smaller. And Alexis's bass refuses the supporting role that lesser arrangements would assign it, muscling forward throughout with a funk-inflected confidence that gives the track genuine bottom-end danger.

Lyrically, "Coup d'éclat" takes aim at poverty and the powerful elite. The band's intention — to wield musical skill as the only weapon available to those without wealth or connections — is not a new idea. But it is an idea that needs constant restating, and Ermyte restate it with the kind of physical force that makes abstract politics feel urgent and personal. The choir arrangement swelling behind the central statement is a masterstroke, transforming individual grievance into collective declaration.

What Ermyte have made is a stadium rock anthem that sounds like it means it. That is rarer than it ought to be.