 |
| Photo by Jon Tingley. |
It’s hard to keep up sometimes.
Although I wish I had both the time and willingness to keep my fingers tightly affixed against the frantic pulse of the Milwaukee area music scene, sometimes a great band will slip through the cracks of my consideration while I’m tied up with making fun of local radio stations, previewing the latest local festival or learning enough about touring acts so I can write half-informed concert previews in our round-ups (check out my Eels write-up Monday!). And when it comes to The Fatty Acids, I want—NO, NEED—to come out and publicly admit that I totally missed the boat on just how great this band truly is.
 |
| Photo by Jon Tingley. |
It’s only a slight exaggeration to say that The Fatty Acids play one of every three shows that presently occurs in and/or around Milwaukee, Wis. Yet I’d never seen them nor taken the incentive to listen to them. It’s even possible they opened for a band I liked along the way and I didn’t even bother to watch. It’s not an admirable thing for a compensated music blogger to cop to, but a possibility nonetheless.
No matter which combinations of missteps, blind misfortunate and sheer laziness came together to supply the previously Fatty-free outcome, rest assured that I’d made it quite some time without ever hearing a single note of the band’s music. It was only recently, in learning the band’s debut album Stop Berries, Berries, and Berries, Berries and its spanking new follow-up Leftover Monsterface were available for free download on The Fatty Acids site, that I set aside whatever inexplicable aversion I had to the outfit and finally granted the band a long-overdue listen.
A complete change of perspective (and pants) later, I stand before you all at the summit of Mount Music Notes to proclaim for all to hear… I have finally listened to The Fatty Acids, and it was good. Yay. Amen.
Where do I start?
1. Falsetto.
The sudden heightening of male vocals, at least when done right, wins me over every time. Fortunately, it is generously employed throughout TFA’s limited-yet-solid catalog. Songs like “Argentinian Mistresses” and “Feathers, Beaks and Gills” are rendered mere inches short of incredible as the vocals climb the register.
2. Effects.
If you fancy yourself the kind of lad or lady who enjoys song parts that make you feel like you’re in a video game’s underwater level, this is the band for you. You want a punch noise instead of a snare drum to be used for the majority of a six-minute ballad? The Fatty Acids have you covered. You say you seek cowbells, spoons, screamed (seemingly) 10-part harmonies and… is that a harpsichord? It’s all there, but somehow used purposefully, serving as odd ways to improve on songs.
3. It’s good, it’s fun, it’s unlike anything it can sort of be considered to be like.
If The Fatty Acids was a piece of visual art, it’d be of the paint by the number variety. At first, it seems like elements are strewn together without thought, reason or pattern; but as the picture becomes more visible, it becomes evident there is a thoughtful method in the myriad of media applied to the assemblage. Somehow the melding of high-pitched (when not yelled) vocals, horns, Strokes-like guitar parts, the piano, distorted keyboard and the grab bag of aforementioned-effects and deceivingly-great musicianship plied to songs with names like “Oven Mitts,” “Football Team” and “Pissing Into Flames” results in an enjoyable and simply awesome final product. And the interweaving of pieces makes The Fatty Acids among the least likely to receive unfair comparisons to any other band along the way (let’s forget when I said they had Strokes-like guitar parts, deal?).
I don’t know anyone in The Fatty Acids. To my knowledge, the band didn’t mail a bunch of awesome stuff to the Milwaukee Magazine office in exchange for some pleasant press. I wasn’t goaded into writing this; in fact, I’m sure my devotion of over 800 words to a single local band isn’t exactly what the higher-ups were looking for with this end of the week post.
I just really felt compelled, as a local music fan who’s (embarrassingly) overlooked some acts instead of taking even a little time to listen to a few songs, to give one of the city’s most active and skilled bands the credit it deserves, however late such praise came. Think of this lengthy love letter the next time you’re fleeing to the bar room at Cactus Club because the band you came to see is done playing. Stick out the next band for a while; download (or even pay money) an album from a band you know nothing about; go to shows and see bands on a whim. You never know how you’ll come across your own personal Fatty Acids.
In the meantime, download both Fatty Acids albums and see them live and support the band’s Kickstarter campaign.
