The Chemistry of Common Life – Fucked Up
by Aidan Roberts
I have to say, I worry about singers like Pink Eyes, who fronts this epic psycho-punk band from Canada. With every fractured, extraordinary shriek that he emits, you can literally hear the blood splatters on the microphone. “Let me introduce myself; I am the son of man,” he preaches. The album opens with a curiously pastoral flute passage, slowly joined by in-tune feedback from the guitars, gradually swelling to Fucked Up’s trademark blistering noise-outs. It’s an impressive thing really, as each song stomps along with a meanness and grandiosity that is rare; so many hard rock acts lack red-blooded conviction such as is on display here. There are moments of genuine reprieve such as the Floydian Golden Seal, as well as the enjoyably 70’s grunk of Royal Swan, complete with doomsday female backing vocals. Powerful though it is, this stuff is exhausting to listen to and can really only be taken in small doses. Man that guy is gonna ache when he’s 50.