Fat White Family are back! With their new album Forgiveness is Yours they’re setting out on a wide, fresh expanse. Out with the old, in with the new. You get the picture. After a hefty run of dates across Europe and the UK, they finally set their feet down in Manchester. Alice Beard reviews.
After fighting through the hordes of grey on your typical Mancunian summer evening, I arrived at New Century Hall pretty sodden and chilly. Not to worry though, as with time pressing on before the Fat Whites were due to enter the stage, I knew I would soon warm up- it was sure to be a raucous occasion. But first, Dublin’s John Francis Flynn kept it mellow as he provided some welcomed shelter from the storm. Slipping into action with remarkable ease, his dulcet tones waded through the staggered crowd, basking the room in a warm and heavy glow. Marching through an array of tracks from his recent LP, Look Over the Wall, See the Sky, the undercurrent of the evening became obscured by a lingering sensation which rippled through the silence. Pieces like his first single Mole in the Ground, along with Kitty, stood as shining examples of how to build atmosphere through harmony and tension. Dark and earthy vocals, delicately entwined guitar and synthesised rhythms- the base of elements stood to deliver something of a stark calibre. This is a man to keep on your radar.
In no time at all, Fat White Family’s call for battle was sounded. The band left no room for manoeuvre as they strutted onstage to the glorious chimes of Robbie Williams’ Angels, before hurtling straight into Wet Hot Beef off their 2014 debut Champagne Holocaust. What a treat. Through it all, Fat White Family really do offer me protection. By the second track things were already in full swing, the sultry charm of Without Consent bringing the rising heat of the room to almost stifling levels.
More gems were unearthed as the night hurtled on, shining beacons hovering above grim ashes. With the provision of tracks such as I Am Mark E Smith and Satisfied there was not one measly pocket of air to breathe, but it was Touch the Leather which garnered real languish for what was about to unfold. As soon as those motorik drums and rising organs trickled in, we knew we were slipping into something marvellous and seedy. Oh so supple and oh so sumptuous. As the set pressed on, the crowd devolved into an ever more discordant amalgam of writhing flesh, all the while Saoudi could be seen debauching the unsuspecting audience with baked goods and milk. Here was a man who demanded attention. This wasn’t just some greased up man in nude spandex flinging sweat- marinated crotch bread off a stage, this was Christ feeding the five-thousand.
Fat White Family know just how to deliver. Instability and chaos are at the heart of their craft. This is something they’ve mastered. Alex White’s screeching sax motifs, paired with knotty guitar riffs and marching percussion all culminated in a display of pure and beautiful agony. Yet, through all the clattering filth and fury, there was still plenty of respite for some healthy doses of self- loathing and honest rumination. Saoudi makes an artform of his storytelling. His lyricism is cold and clever, cutting tracks straight through to the bone with unquestionable ease. It is moments like these which truly portray him at his finest of forms.
With Bullet of Dignity we saw John Francis Flynn once more grace the stage. Equipped with his tin whistle in hand, it was time for a baptism. With so many willing volunteers, the bliss seemed unceasing. As the thick, slouching bassline of this track slipped between the groove of the drums, the room became gripped in a roaring display. All in all, a sonically charged romp of more than satisfying proportion.
It soon came time for Today You Become Man, a song dedicated to Lias’ brother Tamlan and his recently departed friend, Pepe the dog. As a reel of frenzied, breathless percussion slithered in, Saoudi began to recollect the story of his brother’s circumcision in the mountains of Algeria. For such a caustic and bleak track, it felt strange to observe the frothing masses bubbling up to the surface once more. I’m not sure the lyric ‘When I look down at my shaft, I see mutilation’ warrants people being flung from one end of the pit to the other, but whatever tickles your fancy I suppose.
“This was a setlist plucked for the masses. Endless fruits of joy to be spilled”
The highs of the evening were well matched by its lulls, this equilibrium providing ample opportunity to rest and regain momentum. At points the band took to slowing it down for the likes of Bobby’s Boyfriend, before bringing the tempo right back up for floor stompers such as their most recent single Work, Feet and the indomitable fan favourite Fringe Runner. It really was all hits hits hits. This was a setlist plucked for the masses. Endless fruits of joy to be spilled. The harvest was plentiful.
To bid their loyal followers a fond farewell, the band handed out a big wet kiss with final track Whitest Boy on the Beach. Salutation! All peace in the world restored. This electronically charged juggernaut propelled the crowd into swarms of insanity until finally, the death knell was sounded. For such a mammoth set it really did feel as though it was over all too soon. If there is one piece of advice I can offer, I will lay it out plainly now: if you ever hear the Fat White Family calling, raise your hand and take heed, for your victories will be relentless.
Forgiveness is ours. Hallelujah.
Alice Beard
Edited by Alice Beard
Images courtesy of Lou Smith on Instagram, videos courtesy of John Francis Flynn and Fat White Family on Youtube
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