“Our music is the polar opposite of thinking music,” admits Joe Love, the moustached bellower of South London quintet Fat Dog (alongside synth player Chris Hughes, saxophonist Morgan Wallace, bass player Jacqui Wheeler and pooch-mask wearing drummer Johnny ‘Doghead’ Hutch) on their press release. Reading this description first will prepare you for the impulsive eccentricity and bamboozling lyrics that unashamedly howl at you on debut release WOOF. If you are looking for an album that will fascinate and puzzle you at the same time, then Fat Dog’s release is recommended.
Aside from the fact that almost immediately after hearing the first few seconds of WOOF. where Joe Love shouts at the top of his lungs: “It’s FUCKING FAT DOG BABY” it’s evident that this record is an acquired taste that could be challenging and patience-testing for sensitive ears, Fat Dog’s brand of music is refreshing and would stand out immediately on the radio among a sea of prosaic pop. Joe Love’s punkish yelling over the top of a blend of techno and Klezmer music – the latter gives them a signature Gogol Bordello energy – is confidentially cohesive throughout WOOF. A lot of acts nowadays aimlessly experiment with sounds so much from the off that it’s hard to know what their identity is but Fat Dog have memorable and praiseworthy idiosyncrasy.
There are also moments of filmic splendour. Prolific producer James Ford bringing his fondness for strings and these on occasion give listeners a calm breather among the frantic ear-splitting. WOOF.’s circa seven minute centrepiece ‘King Of The Slugs’ highlights Fat Dog’s traits rather well. An intense industrial-electronic pulse leads into Joe Love shouting out over their flavour of Jewish folk before the pace of the song undulates in a manner that imagines Kasabian performing ‘Potiphar‘ from Joseph And The Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, especially in the moments where it picks up speed like a sea shanty. The instrumental moments on the track are undeniably majestic and perhaps more appreciated because of the contrasting harshness before it.
However ‘King Of The Slugs‘ also highlights the divisive fault of Fat Dog; the lyrics. Fat Dog have lots of Excuse-Me-What? moments. In that particular track they are actually pretty funny in a kind of The Mighty Boosh surrealistic humour way. Singing in the first verse: “When I wake up in the morning, I see a slug staring down. He gives me one look. And sets me the crown.” Perhaps causing some listeners to scratch their heads when trying to decipher the words. This is followed by a similar narrative in the subsequent verse: “I get my clothes from the washing machine. I see a slug staring down. He gives me one look. And sets me the crown”. But by the time Joe Love sings: “Well I slide, I slide into the night. Covered in Vaseline,” you know this is complete bonkers. But going back to the quote from the lead singer saying that this is not thinking music, we can take this as his sense of humour on show. Furthermore WOOF. is not supposed to be the soundtrack to philosophical looking-at-the-stars contemplating but rather push-and-shove moshpitting.
Having said that there is a wishful thinking sense in this critic’s mind that there is a missed opportunity for Joe Love to use his anger throughout the LP in the effective manner that he does on album highlight ‘Running.’ The song, which efficiently plays with ominous ticking in the verse to lead into punchy all-out-chaos in the chorus, utilises Love’s bursts of bellowing to symbolize panic and anguish among a world of gun violence. “I said wake me up, wake me up. When the shooting starts. I’m gonna pack my bag for the hill. Watch it from afar / “I heard the shots, come and cover me. I run sixty-one miles from another me.”
‘WOOF.’ is bookended by tracks with narration from English actor Neil Bell (24 Hour Party People, Dead Man’s Shoes). It sounds like he is reading from a book with intellectual thoughts about God observing man: “I was there when the first beasts dragged their swollen bellies onto the beaches” but then near the end Bell narrates: “We are all just dogs gnashing our teeth at the moon” and one might start to think; is this propaganda to push further the group’s canine obsession? This lies perhaps the thought of listeners after reaching the competition of Fat Dog’s debut; is this band misleadingly clever or barking mad?
