Fuck the Facts
Listening to Fuck the Facts’ self-released Unnamed EP is like hunting for inside joke Easter eggs in your favorite nerd cult film. The adventurous Canadian band nicks from and nods to a slew of metal moments past and present over the course of six short songs. “Time is a Dictator” plays the dreamy, contemplative guitar over brooding, whispered vocal card that was pretty much established and perfected by Celtic Frost 20 years ago while “.” rocks vaulting, athletic guitar runs over Bolt Thrower/Landmine Marathon riffs on fast forward. Brutalizer “La Tete hors de L’eau” is a rusted amalgam of brute force destruction and bent string agony that could have been penned by Luddite Clone or Kill the Slave Master.
While that’s fun, it’s also the EP’s most noticeable – but not fatal – Achilles’ heel. I’m so busy playing free association with their riffs I kind of forget to appreciate them on their own merits. However, when Fuck the Facts do retreat to their signature experimentation, you know the band has it in them.
The unsettling “Wake” is pierced by the faint, almost subliminal radio hum that unnerves the Martian atmosphere of the phased-out, trebly guitar bluffs.
Fuck the Facts – “Wake”
I’ve struggled with this one for a few weeks now because on the balance the songs are solidly written and get stuck in your craw like an impacted molar. But I keep expecting something more; there's some quintessence I just keep expecting to leap through my headphones. Fuck the Facts is one of those bands like Antigama I keep expecting to truly floor me, but I’m just not there yet. But leaving your audience hungry for more is never a bad career move. Fuck the Facts? Fuck me? Fuck it, I’ll play it again and maybe this time it will be there.
[Full disclosure: Fuck the Facts kindly provided me with a download.]