Fashoda Crisis – Him make they learn read

True story: a jellyfish stung me in Tampico and I couldn’t feel my leg for a whole day. It also burnt like hell and it gave me a rash. There’s nothing as enraging as an itch you can’t scratch. No, wait, that’s from Blade Runner.

Anyway, the name of the game is rage (and not rats in cages) so here comes a furious (and righteous) EP by Fashoda Crisis. Him make they learn read is seven tomahawk missiles of anger-releasing tracks, half Therapy? (heavy chords, half-spat out vocals) and Helmet (heavy bass noodling, anger from here to the off-licence).

‘The Berry Brown Face of Robert Kilroy Silk’ is very in your face. Straight out of the bat is the heavy chug-chug chord playing and lyrics talking about the sorry state of our entertainment industry (and how this reflects us). Knives are thrown against Heat magazine, a couple of shows (or shows made up of only clips) and a very cool bass line (love the bit when it’s going up the scale). It’s a slow but hard hitting way to open the album. Too much info during the final bit, bro, though.

It’s a bit of cardio, this one. ‘Animals’ is relentless, pure unadulterated Rock. No bullshit, no frills, just what it says in the tin. A quick curveball is thrown with ‘100 years of cake’ (hmm…cake) which sounds like a fashionable disco post punk ditty, but it has fangs. Very sharp fangs. All mirrorballs have been kicked and leisure suits ripped off by the smashing ending.

‘CancerHat’ and ‘Machiiine’ are very, very strong numbers, no wonder they follow each other (kinda like an Ouroboros). The music might be slightly similar, the emotions are definitely the right shade of anger and whereas the bass shone on the first songs, the drumming takes centre stage for a bit here (especially in ‘Machiiine’). ‘With my strong eye’ (the album closer) is slightly diluted and mixed from this two, like a the lower step in a dilution series, which still has enough substance to be on detection limits.

Prime choice of Him make they learn read has to be the brutal ‘Alien. Dinosaur. Brundenfly’. From the palm muted beginnings to the dramatic pauses peppered throughout, it’s a beast of a song. It’s the one that made me think of Page Hamilton tearing rock a new one. The bass is fantastic and the drumming is solid as quartz. There’s some very angry lyrics in all the EP, but this is one with the most corrosive ones. The instrumental bits are short but so fucking sweet it hurts.

In closing: if you need some heavy hitting rock, you can’t miss with Fashoda Crisis. And if a ruddy jellyfish ruins your holidays, use some vinegar. Works wonders.

Words: Sam.

Fashoda Crisis Website. Facebook. Bandcamp. Twitter. Last.fm. Myspace.

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