It’s been said time and again that the punk movement came from nothing and nowhere; that it existed in a vacuum and that the only two things that made punk what it was were passion and speed.
If there were no Who’s Can’t Explain, we wouldn’t have The Clash’s rallying cry, Clash City Rockers, now would we? Stiff Little Fingers’ Inflammable Material would not exist without the opening intro chords to Montrose’s 1973 hit “Rock the Nation” guiding the entire song, and Johnny Lydon’s Public Image certainly would not exist had there been no King Tubby, no Can and no Hawkwind.
Think I’m kidding?
Do a little homework and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Think Interpol and the Editors are ‘on to something’ with their respective new sounds? Well, they are a talented lot, so maybe they are. That being said, I’m sure as the sun is shining that that lot have got these songs burned on to their respective iPods for casual listening pleasure, and inspiration.
With their extensive back catalogue now ridiculously out of print, Family Fodder have now been dubiously consigned to ‘Cult Band’ status. Their records are so in-demand that they now fetch huge sums of money in collectors’ circles. Based in London (and very much attuned to what was brewing in the local punk scene, albeit the more avant garde side of it) Family Fodder were not so much a band but a loose collective of roughly 20 different musicians brought together by the classically-trained Alig Pearce.
The band included members of This Heat and his girlfriend, the lovely French chanteuse, Dominique Levillain. Stylistically, the band were all over the map, mixing four-on-the-floor bubblegum pop into twisted tape manipulations, and combining world music experiments with minimalist classical composition permeating the melody line. Anyone familiar with their music knows that there is no such thing as a boring Family Fodder record, as they were filled with… What is it the French call it? Savoir faire? Hence, the track