Goodbye Asshole is a monster of megaton heaviness that somehow remains surprisingly light on its feet. The sheer density and obliterating weight of its riffage will put you in mind of all-timers like Blue Cheer and the Stooges. The boogie-ing restlessness of its blues-into-kraut-rock reiterating rampages may remind you, instead of Wooden Shjips, Oneida and the Psychic Paramount. A gothy psychedelic echo wraps around these hedonistic romps, shrouding them in phosphorescent glow. Fuckwolf bludgeons, haunts, pogos and gets lost in a transcendental roar.
Fuckwolf has been lurking around the periphery of the Bay Area garage scene for a couple of decades, playing warehouses and dive bars, its members turning up in bands like the Osees and Sic Alps, but steadfastly refusing to lay it all down on tape. These guys — Eric Park on bass, guitar and vocals, Simon Phillips on drums and Tomo Yasuda on guitar and keyboards — have been at it forever, but this is only their second album. They’ve had a long time to study heaviness and learn exactly how to make it dance.
And so, with Goodbye Asshole, Fuckwolf explodes right out of the gate, no throat-clearing, no warm-ups, no prefatory intervals. “Flaming Hot Cheetos” lights off a firecracker drum cadence then waits for the sirens though not for long. A ululating two-note guitar riff careening forward to assess the damage. You think it’s going to be abstract and rhythmic, but suddenly, you’re in a shout-along punk chorus, a guitar caterwauling in the foreground to keep everyone’s attention. It’s loud and messy but extraordinarily focused, the dirtiest kind of rock and roll distilled to raging essence.
Put “Flaming Hot Cheetos” at the Stooge-y, brickbat extreme. “White Claw” stands at the kraut-y, noddy, disco-prophet end of the spectrum, with its coruscating pulse, its agile bumps and percolations, its falsetto-soul vocals. It reminds me of Moon Duo’s last album, except it leaves a space for Park to whoop and yelp like a moon-dazzled coyote.
Later, feel the jet-plane lift-off of “My Life” stir your clothing like a hot wind, let the viscous bass-line of “Beef Broth” rearrange your innards. Fuckwolf makes sounds that act on your body as much as on your ears. My only qualm is that the album’s second half slouches a little into blues rock. “Nu Shooz” is too much of a boogie for my taste, while “Bats” rides the fuzz bass and wah-licks into cavernous, but conventional rock spaces.
For about six tracks, though, Fuckwolf brings the blinding scree, the monstrous thump, the head-butting groove and makes it sound new again. Turn it up. It sounds best loud.
Reposted from @caitlinmattisson Out of the dawn from somewhere, the red-gold strangers came, with eyes the blue of tempered steel And hair the color of flame 🔥 save the date! @alanforbes and I are having an art show at @psychedelicsfgallery opening party Friday, January 13th, 2023 6-9ish⚡ this will also be doubling as my bday celebration so attendance is mandatory haha 🥳 special musical performance by @fuckwolfband around 7pm and new prints by Alan and I as well as paintings and posters🖤 Join us! #psychedelicsf #fuckwolf #alanforbes #caitlinmattisson #spaceisonthephone #artistherisingtide #sfartshow #posterart #psychedelicart #lilithsgarden #theredgoldstrangers #ismyvoodooworking #firewalkwithme (at San Francisco, California) https://www.instagram.com/p/CmESO4rOYzz/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
