Artists: various artists from Western Australia
Title: Furchick throws a curve ball
Hello, how are you? Hope you are well. Happy New year and all that crap! Here we are and here we go! A compilation of various western australian artists that have all something very special in common: they have been mixing and matching their own soundarts with that of the legend that us Furchick. If thats not a reason to dig up the old school pen and notepad… so thats exactly what I did and here is the result:
Airlock & Furchick throw a curve ball unlike i have ever seen a curve ball being thrown before. It is as if the fax machine of a workaholic office teamed up with ancient floppy disk drives to fork up an anarchistic master piece. Who needs a hairy band when the technology goes on a determent strike and wil throw itself to the win!?
Yes, with the data being squeezed this way, they come close to resemble screetching guitars that are the equivalent of the shocking vibe that happens when you poke a fork in a electric socket. Its strong and bold, steady and wil have no problem to mess your hair up. With a grip that might fry a regular person’s mind into a melted curved ball, the human voice of reason shines through. A sign of sanity and collaboration to hang onto. Hold on to it and you might avoid being danced upon by parfumed strangers as you crash on a hard shining ballroom floor.
Deep Ecology & Furchick Kindly offers us a sweet sentimental escape in the shape of a pretty wonderful flight in their own space. Its a timeless area in which kids can stil be kids and usual worries are banned to the basement of pure forgetfulness. Coughing cuttlery are here the backbone for a rhythmic touch and warm tones of a long gone sailor are the cozy scarfs around it. We dance, we cuddle, we hold arms and hands like lost poets touched by innocent thoughts of a better space. After a while the horn of the ship wil make its way through the fog, clearing itself like a ugly duckling from its bullied tale. Once we are all here we can all breathe again, succesfully congratulating eachother on having a new found life within found forgiven sounds.
Here it is Times Of The Sines and Furchick to come out to synthrock with the youth, the funky bells and the factory sounds. We shake our bums over here as the slippery farts that flop out of them form the essential electric baselines to go energetically in a upstep mode, getting us the power to travel like a modern day Santa – all around the world. Nothing can stop us now, we are on the move, riding the glitter scènes of industrial smartness, while still keeping our delighted faces in to the contagious forms of pure positivity. Flashy lights, sporty spice and here and there a back to the Future time machine! Break all the rules and barriers!
Checkout Chick & Furchick dip their noses behind the checkout spot, dealing with the customers of the modern world. Here its like miniature disney, upbeat capitalism with a sunny sight. Small talk rules the customer and its overly friendly cash register. Pretty tooth paste greetings with a smile and silly ballooney “good days” and “not bad” text balloons are exchanged while money and consumer products are changing hands as if its a free for all. The silliness and absurdity of this daily happening is super emposed over here, but instead of clowning about both Chicks create something cozy and familiar from it. It smells of the good old village days where paranoia and bad grumpy people had never been spotten before.
Jeremy von Kobra and Furchick are taking us back in the shape of the animals that we are, by carefully tossing us in the pit of nature. Its a deep hole, yet wide enough for all of us to hang out in. The sides have a mushy sound, somewhat damp and mad house-like, yet with enough soapy wetness that it would be easy to slid away in our straightjackets and become as animalistic and gay as we could be. Darkness might be intense over here, but somehow we feel at home in this jungle of depthful adventure. Little queer voices cheer like creepy crawlers in a eighties horror flick in the back, but the extential sounds of holes opening all around us give us that shimmer of hope. We wil surive, escape and become stronger in all our mad saneness.
Furchick and Vetch twinkle up the scène by letting the pages of an old book slide by like a well muffled sound effect. Here the dust and bookwurm pooh might reach the inside of our noses, but we wont cough from it, as the music is too mysterious to make noises through. Its like being inside the basement of a rustic library, behind a normally locked door in a area full of books with the right knowledge that might vaporize itself if it ever reaches the eyes of a wrong crowd. Drowned librarians make words behind their hands as doors rattle and weird intensions prosper. Its like a poem without words, a moment in which we can get lost and never come out agajn.
But Eileen Glynn and Furchick come to the rescue like the secretive heros that they are. They swing and sing, rocking out in the middle of a home party in which a dog blows the nose like a trumpet & the strong folk tones spiral greatky within the ears for a very warm feeling inside. It is like a lowkey party in which the kitchen area could be used for drums and the rest of the place could be the function-zone to host a warm gathering of friends. Here we smile, we wobble and groove in a humble social mood of togetherness. From here i think its only fair to throw a curve and start all of this music from start to finish again!
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