Fungal Punk reviews “Lactose Intolerant”


Some bands are cheesy and then some bands are….cheesy! This Lancashire based three-piece have been on the cutting board of noise since 2014 and here serve up 4 sliced delicacies to get my aural choppers around. The request for a review came from an old comrade who played with a favoured band of mine, namely, AFS. There is no similarity in the tuneage which is for the best I think and I tackle this quartet of soundage with neutrality at the fore. No fuckin, no duckin, no obsequious grooming cluckin’ – just the usual pure approach you should expect!

The stable door of sound opens and ‘Gold Divers: Under The Ice’ is the first trotting tune to manifest itself with a strange blend of poppoid tones, breeches down countrification and US drawling – it all creates a well saturated noise to dwell on. Glinting in before rising on delicate foams the texture of the delivery is quite rumpled and so the fabric of rippling rhythm creates sweet sensations aplenty although I would suggest a little more pep in the department labelled tempo. The throat is gristly and slightly barbecued with strung escorts more plucked than fucked. The overall strategic positioning of each players contribution shows the band are thinking hard about the end product. An intriguing sound and one that is not so easy to pigeon-hole which, as I always insist, is a fuckin’ darn good thing. ‘Girl From Somewhere’ starts on sub-military skin scuffles and squelched wire work before crippled rock and roll gob gifts croon inward and create another spit-roasted chunk of tonsil torn tuneology that grates and sedates in an unexpected non-negative way. The waters are mucky, in fact suggest a garaged lo-fi accent, whilst the liquidity is far from smooth. This one takes a little adjusting to and may need a little more lube in the tonal tube before a pure unadultered digestible track is had – splunge!

‘Leopold’s Apple’ is my favourite track of the four with a zephyr induced cruise constructed and a most westernised fragrance blown our way. The elements the band throw into the melting pot collide and combine here with the greatest gratifying majesty and in-groove articulation. The proffered tuned titbits find a synchronicity and this may be due to sheer accident, insight or abstraction. The tempo seems more enthused, the rhythmic relaxation levels higher and the general emotive lilt and zest for the job at hand more convincing – surely the way forward. We close, shut down or, if you prefer, fuck off, with the ditty scribed as ‘Genius Disease’, a quaint repeat belch of railroad chugging cum freeway trundling. An almost piss-taking Americanised cowboy waddle that contains underfoot hot-doggin’ and suggestive barn dance noodleism that causes a furrowing of the brow for this discombobulated assessor. As stated on the bands website the claim is of a ‘psych infused power pop crew’ which I am certainly failing to recognise at this moment in time. I don’t know and maybe I don’t get it but this closing number fails to get me truly rockin’ in accordance.

4 songs, 4 oddments from outside many boxes. A quirky band I would have to hear more of if I am honest (which I always am) and one, if hoping to survive, will have to up the ante and mix and match styles a little more freely.

The Electric Cheese at The Crescent 050415