Gigs are too often filled with self-importance, caricatures filled with their own ego, narcism and arrogance but Fat White Family have long been regarded as a band that are more than (here’s the cliché) just a band. Before you hang me for spouting such a phrase, let me undress my point: FWF are a group that have always announced their dismay of gentrification and ultimately, pitted themselves against those who insist on transforming their hometown of Brixton into the yuppie wonderland that seems to beckon many of London’s communities these days. Therefore it is quite commendable that the group have progressed from the Queen’s Head pub down the road and moved their live show to the 3,000 capacity of Brixton Academy in around three years. I’m sure they will be the first to admit that this is not necessarily due to the commercial success of their music but more the growing cult fanbase and the orchestration of chaos that their live shows outline.

Dressed in a 70s-styled shirt, Lias flounced onstage with the rest of the group including Saul Adamczewski for perhaps the final time. From the opening chimes of ‘Tinfoil Deathstar’ with its discussion of David Clapson’s death in 2013 as a result of having his benefits cut, eyes onstage were ablaze and ultimately, the crowd lapped up the embers. The energy that Saul helped fuel was mirrored in the stark red lighting that was cast down from the lights way above and the ghoulish shadows that pranced up the tall walls of the venue. What makes the songs interesting is their touchy topics and the venom that they performed with. The sadistic elements begin to ooze out of ‘Tinfoil Deathstar’ as FWF howl: “Type 1, type 1” in reference to the diabetes that contributed to the death of Clapson, the former soldier. Topical, political and unapologetic in what they sing about, they dig at important matters and tug on the wick of society’s problems, making their critics wince in pain – and so they should.

It doesn’t take long for Lias to peel his shirt off – two songs in and the crowd are presented with his torso and the chants of “five sweaty fingers on the dashboard” – as bodies crush forward, Lias leers and sips from his bottle of wine. It is half Bad Seeds, half Iggy as he dictates mayhem down the front and the security are left to mop up teens who hurl themselves over the heads of their friends.

‘Whitest Boy On The Beach’ ricochets into the set with its krautrock tinge proving that material off Songs for Our Mothers poses just as much danger as their Champagne Holocaust. ’I Am Mark E Smith’ is the beating heart of the set, it stomps and bounces, sounding a million times louder live than it does on record. Lias’ dance stalks across the stage as the crowd heaves towards the front, it pushes then retreats looking like the swelling soup in Lias’ cauldron.

It can be easy to judge FWF based purely upon their recorded music, I for one never quite understood them until I saw them live. This much is true for their second effort too, an album I hadn’t caught live until this Saturday night but songs like ‘Hits, Hits, Hits’ are much more lurid and sleazy live than they are on record. ‘Satisfied’ poses more danger too, the yell of “satisfied, satisfied, I’m so easily satisfied” is more immediate than the hazy lull it receives on record. ‘Goodbye Goebels’ is the standout from the sophomore record though – a song that speaks of the romance between Hitler and his close friend in a bunker, it emphasises the nature of Fat White Family’s sensitive discussions. Live, it feels as sinister and probing and emphasises the importance that a band like Fat White Family can touch on sensitive topics – remove the sheen of perfection and illusion of safety and seek comfort in the absurd and taboo.

Fat White Family may be criticised for being a victim of their own audacity. Taking your top off at one point was a novelty but how many times can you perform the same trick before it becomes expected? A fair point and something I heard people discussing after, what this ignores though is the fact that Fat White Family aren’t succumbing to big name promoters and attempting to perform such a trick in that fashion. Nor are they signing to major label deals and pretending that they are still just as ‘punk’ as they once were. No, they are still the same band they were on day one – the ethos is there. It’s often something that can’t be explained but looking around the crowd tonight during the likes of ‘Touch The Leather’ – Lias wasn’t the only one with his top off, nor was the gesture restricted to a particular age range. The crowd grew from 14 upwards to 60 and over, each as fleshy and sticky. They clearly unite various generations of music fans because of their topics, because of their ideology and because of their sense of attack.

‘Bomb Disneyland’ was fun, reckless and wiggled its satirical tongue in its cheek. ‘Auto Neutron’ was boisterous and had Brixton Academy yelling along “we are, we are, auto neutron, auto neutron” and ultimately, the closing song, a cover of The Monks’ ‘I Hate You’ had the band joined onstage with friends, the Black Lips. The curtain was called after that and hoards of beer, sweat and blood was dragged up the steep slope of Brixton Academy.

Whether this is the last Fat White Family gig ever is left to the imagination for now – part of you would feel satisfied if they called it a day here but the other half wants you to find them again, find that dark part of society where the sinister can still exist and clear your mind of security. Perhaps, these are the most important bands in music right now.
Tom Churchill

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