More prepared than the last time I saw them live at Fallow Café, the assault on the senses that was ‘Auto Neutron’, the opening song, brought with it the terrifying realization that the taste in my mouth was sweat, and it wasn’t my own. Fat Whites never cease to amaze me with the sheer volumes of bodily fluids they can exhume in 2 hours, and last week Lias didn’t fail to deliver. Compelling and alarming in equal measure, the half naked front man stood over us like a warped Christ, screaming into the microphone for a hair raising rendition of ‘Cream of the Young’ and ‘I Am Mark E Smith’, undoubtedly the best songs of the night. By ‘Wet Hot Beef’ carnal desire had taken over the audience, I looked around to see middle aged men gurning with gay abandon as their disapproving girlfriends stood at the back trying not to breathe in too deeply.
This was the 4th time I’ve seen Fat Whites play, and each time it seems to descend further and further into bedlam. They’re raw and animalistic, a far cry from the over produced so-called “rock bands” sullying the music scene today.
Fat White Family leave you feeling equally drained, stimulated and oddly aroused; experiencing them live is as close to a religious experience I think I’ll ever get. The music may not have been as coherent as it is on record, but that’s the beauty of the South London band, they’re dirty and loud and uncomfortable, and we love them for it. I’ve given Fat Whites a 9/10 for the sole reason that I got liberally doused in a old man’s piss half way through the night, which put a dampener on things somewhat.