The Fire Show - s/t
(Perishable)
The Fire Show declare themselves, as points of pride, to be more Aguilera than
Spears, more Radiohead than Oasis, and more Birthday Party than Bad Seeds.
Those first two are okay, but I take exception with the third. But, hey, everyone is
entitled to their opinion. However, this review will feature only mine. So screw
you.
These guys have fire in their bellies, they burn like Lungfish around the time of
Rainbows from Atoms. They've got a couple of buzzing guitars, snaky
bass, drums that shuffle and rumble, and a luridly hypnotic singer. The songs can
sound exotic--slightly otherworldly or from another time--but still speak directly to
your unconscious fears. Whether they are quiet or loud, they are always tense.
And it never dissipates when they finally crack wide open. It just gets wound all
the more tighter.
The record kicks off with the cryptic "F. Pilate," a creepy number that is like an evil
snake charmer. It slowly worms its oddly melodic self into your brain, amidst
threats that "I'll find my way inside your heart... I'll find my way into your
bloodstream." (Equally swell is a declaration, in the excellent "The Antipathetic,"
that "I, myself, am heaven and hell"). However, "Explosion: Cerebellum" shows
that the Fire Show knows the power of the pop hook, even when crammed into
rants and raw punk guitars. The song has a neat new-wave herky-jerky rhythm
that makes it taste just like poisoned candy.
This is one of those records that, though interesting upon first impression, becomes
more so with repeated listens. Like Radiohead, the Fire Show wants to profoundly
effect the listener's psyche and can be obtuse in creating specific effect (plus the
vocalist occasionally sounds like Thom Yorke for short snippets). Like the
Birthday Party, the effect the Fire Show seeks to have upon the listener is not at all
pleasant, yet it speaks to something innate in us, something primal and long
forgotten. I do not know how they are like Aguilera. Maybe they are suspiciously
anglo ethnic-counterfeits. They are less like Spears, so it is unlikely they are
barely legal nymphettes who seek to take over the world by the power of their
exploding décolletage, as if we were all so many unsuspecting Humbert Humberts.
But, I could be wrong.
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