Invada Invasion Live: Mogwai vs. Fuzz Against Junk

Last night I had a dream about Fuzz Against Junk, approximately forty-eight hours after me and a handful of others (see image #17) watched them play while Mogwai droned on upstairs.

Sorry, let’s get this straight, I don’t hate Mogwai but I wasn’t in the mood for their brand of epic and I was tired and angry about a malfunctioning camera. Someday it might grab me by the shorthairs, but they sounded so drab and predictable to me. Chime chime from guitar one, joined by chime chime plus harmonics from guitar two, softly softly bass, softly softly drums, bigger, bigger….BIG! Powerchords! Bombastic Industrial Melancholy!

But all music could be reduced to its elements by a sarcastic twat, so please don’t fear, the smug gun has jammed… I do like their drummer, he had some weird-kilted beats up his, err, sleeve. After three songs I moped my way downstairs.

So when the flute/clarinet/sax player of Fuzz Against Junk said “so you must be everyone who doesn’t like Mogwai” I wanted to cheer, but was afraid of spilling my much needed coffee. Before this turns into The Cynic and the Loveable Underdog please let me tell you that I really did like Fuzz Against Junk on their own merits. At one point I turned to my wife and said “they’re like Sunburned”, to which she said “But they’re coherent”. Fair point. Not that we bonded over a shared love of coherence, far from it.

When they started I thought they were soundchecking. Where’s the audience I thought? But that’s how it goes. Applause to these dudes for just getting going. No awkward announcements, the Mogwai statement came right towards the end. The band exhibited a strange blend of ramshackle (anything goes as long as it floats on the groove) and serious musical quibbling (at one point the stage left guitar player seemed intent on stopping the others due to a sound anomaly, but they couldn’t hear him).

The double bass player avoided clichéd space jazz motifs, the flute/sax man reigned his free splurges in well enough to retain their power for the next flurry and the guitarists mixed noise, odd time signatures and acid laced melody into a classic cocktail. If you’re reading this Fuzz boys, don’t take offence, but I’d love to see you play at a wedding. It would be a good wedding.

When I thanked one of the band and told him I’d had a good time he said “Thanks, we had a good time playing” and he clearly meant it. I only wish no-one had turned up to see Fuck Buttons, cause they might have had a total hissy fit…

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