Fuck Buttons begin their first album with a cycle
of twinkling notes, a quiet thread of temptation that holds briefly as currents
of noise, synth chords, and incoherent screams gradually build. The British duo
appreciate subtlety, but can't resist clobbering themselves with textures that
come on like a tidal wave of wet cement, spreading and thickening across
long-stewing chord progressions. Street Horrrsing's first five
minutes—about half of "Sweet Love For Planet Earth"—capture the
exhilaration that comes from using melody to shape a huge mess of static. But
as one track dissolves into another, the wonder starts to flake away a bit. The
bird calls and clickety drumming of "Ribs Out" come on with all the disorientation
of Black Dice and about half the sophistication. Frustration and exhaustion
seem like natural parts of the FB experience: "Okay, Let's Talk About Magic"
and "Bright Tomorrow" can bring hypnotic irritation on one spin and hypnotic
relief on the next. That's a credit to FB's spontaneity and its comfort with
contradictions, especially this one: The album backs up its momentous tone, but
builds too few moments.
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