Review: The Fat White Family, Whelan’s Dublin 23.2.2016

TOUCHED BY THE GLAND OF GOD

In answer to that age old question that has puzzled mankind for eternity, Who’s the Whitest Boy on the Beach?

It’s me, or at least I thought it was when many moons ago I tried blending in with the locals on my first sun holiday.  T-shirt off, chaos ensues.  Surfers crash as mahogany skinned tourists gasp in shock at my translucent torso, a beacon to every mosquito in a 5 mile radius. I quickly cover up and retreat to a bar where I firmly decide that the only light my skin should be exposed to is neon. Looking at the ghosts that appear on stage now I realise I was David Hasselhoff compared to The Fat White Family.

More on them later.  First things first, the “pigmobile” lands in Dublin.  Me and my three Comrades in arms, Robert, Adam and Dom are hardened veterans of four decades of live music.  And we’re still like schoolkids cutting class every time we go to gigs together.  We hit Bunsen for a tasty burger that Samuel L Jackson would be proud of. After a few brews in Against the Grain (rock shandy for me) we hit Whelan’s to watch the end of civilisation as we know it.

The support slot is handled by Shame.  Throttled more than handled, they are great.  Frontman Charlie Steen is fearless and the music is raw punk filtered through melodic rock. They are young and hungry, starving actually, Steen asks the crowd to buy one of their handmade t-shirts so they can get a hot meal. No word on an album yet but if it’s half as good as their live set it should be one to watch out for.

Now for the main event, where do I begin? By disregarding the now legendary Dionysian debauchery of The Fat White Family’s live sets and the Dickensian origin stories that follow the band like a cloud?  Yes let’s begin there.

It’s music we’re here for and it’s music we get.  The Fat White Family shuffle on to the stage.  Lead singer Lias Saoudi actually hobbles on, can of beer in one hand and crutch in the other. Then Tinfoil Deathstar takes off and the Willy Wonka act is dropped, crutch raised roofward and the crowd are lifted with it. There’s no chat up line, no foreplay, straight to the nasty bits, band and crowd become one.  Auto Neutron’s Morricone and the Bad Seeds vibe is a different animal live, all teeth and claws. Whitest Boy on the Beach kicks in and the hundred strong mosh pit resembles a fevered cult in the throes of an exorcism, weaving and lunging at the whim of the Marquis de Saoudi and his band of merry men. It all looks accidental but the band are well rehearsed and well versed in keeping the crowd and themselves happy.  Saul Adamczewski and Adam J Harmer’s rockabilly guitars and Gregorian backing vocals reverberate around Whelan’s.  Is it Raining in Your Mouth? is as creepy as it sounds.  Things get messy, mics crackle, amps pop, all in a night’s work though. All the signs of great music are here, anger and humour go hand in hand along with a complete disregard for authority, even their own.  Saoudi stops twitching and scans the melee with a look that asks did I do this?  The Fat White Family are Agent Provocateurs incarnate and brilliantly subversive role models for an alternative to the mainstream music scene.  It’s out there, you just have to find the crusty underbelly that it lurks beneath.

Touch the Leather and Bomb Disneyland bring the house down.  And then they’re gone, back to their coffins to be transported on to the next monster mash.

Like a good one night stand both parties got what they wanted.  The crowd leave sweating and satisfied satisfied I’m so easily satisfied and the band get to play their unique brand of top-shelf bottom-feeding rock’n’glorious roll.

From the warmth of a sold out Whelan’s to the wintery chill of Wexford St, the comrades bolt for the pigmobile.  A quick detour to a chipper we’re on the road again hurtling down the motorway.  Adam finds my secret stash of yacht rock, the perfect anti-venom to the snakebite that is The Fat White Family and we careen into the darkness asking that other age old question – what do you do when you get caught between the moon and New York City?