“This is a review for a band called Ferocious Fucking Teeth. Piss off.” – Dara Higgins on the debut LP from Conneticut’s Ferocious Fucking Teeth.
Sun, like honey, in a jar. Pour that jar over yourself, it’s sunshine, after all. Lie down on the newly cut grass, listen to children laugh as they play. Watch your loved one sit in rapt concentration, reading some really deadly book. Life is lovely. If this is you, you’ve done okay. I like what you’ve done with your life, and your interior seems sound. Your job is great, you just love what you do. Your significant other is a graphic designer, and it’s great to be around such creativity. You get on with your parents, dad even had a chat with you about lending you some money for a down payment on a lovely house. You’ve had an orgasm recently, and it was good. People look at you as you walk down the street. You keep sun, like honey, in a jar. Your work colleagues think you’re cool, your boss ask you for advice. You’re sad that the recession has hit so many people, but really, you haven’t felt it pinch yet. Phew, eh? Your life is great. This is a review for a band called Ferocious Fucking Teeth. Piss off.
FFT’s debut album is Albini “produced”. That means basically, point microphones, roll a spliff. I mean, tape. Roll a tape. Albini’s sound is intrinsically annoying. It sounds like he can’t be bothered, but that’s his thing, and it becomes an artifice for the bands involved. However, he gets a mean drum sound, and FFT are a band with two drummers. Not in an Adam and The Ants way neither.
The sound veers from Earth-esque slowness, chords held and fading out, nothing but a bass drum thumping, and a more abrasive hardcore, with shouting and the odd riff. The guitar sound through out is heavy, very distorted. There’s no bass, so to speak, just a baritone guitar, which just adds to the fug of distortion. On some tunes, such as the wonderfully titled Fuck on a Weeknight, there’s a molasses type heaviness, which pins you to your seat. The dual drumming sounds like insects desperately trying to escape this amber. There is no escape, because you can’t see the light. You don’t know where you are, because of this oppressive weight, and the black treacle of an overly fuzzed baritone guitar is pressing down on your solar plexus. The vocals scream out. Oh sweet Jesus. You used to have sunshine, in a fucking jar, and now look at you. I warned you. I did.
Ferocious Fucking Teeth is out on March 3rd on Safety Meeting.
https://www.facebook.com/ffteeth
