Recycling is sometimes good for the soul. At this stage of musical evolution, there is very little in the Fat White Family’s grubby and spiky musical wash that we haven’t heard at least a dozen times already.
But what makes this glorious squall of punky noise, menace and intent so compelling is the spirit and venom with which the London band go for it.
That’s something that is very of their own making and it’s what ensures their live shows are such outlandish, full-blooded, unpredictable affairs.
On Songs For Our Mothers, they push the musical boat out with tracks that skip merrily from pillar to post, from the autobahn groove of Whitest Boy On the Beach to the sleazy punch of Tinfoil Deathstar.
Throughout, they create music that is psychotic, deranged and superbly unwholesome. We truly need more bands like this.
