There’s in your face, there’s eyeball to eyeball and then there’s torpedoing up your nose with a napalm party-popper. Manic London locals Agent Fuzz don’t so much play in front of you as on top of you. Their ultra-spiky onslaught is of the demonically exuberant variety and for those who don’t know how to react, shouter/dancer Kunle leaps out onto the dancefloor and stays there going crazy for half the set.
The Fuzz have a drum machine that thinks it’s in Motvrhead and the vocal-sharing front pair of bassist Jack Falconer and guitarist Martyn Holland vibrate in the grip of a beautiful identity crisis somewhere in the middle of The Fall, Nirvana, The Ramones, Sonic Youth and the Sex Pistols.
Oh yes, it’s punk, but not in the crappy copycat sense. In ‘What You Want’ they hit on a unique riot-chant pop style. ‘Objective Turns Sour’ lyrically subverts its thug beat, ‘Romance Pokes My Eyes Out’ shapes up like Mogwai gone to Seattle and in ‘Reformed And Refound’ they hit a level of chainsaw surf rock that lifts them out of history into the zone of simple brilliance.
The Fuzz‘s non-preachy mania demands a gear-trashing ending but they stop at broken strings, collapsing around the drum machine like a speedway pile-up. Just a little on-your-toes-death-riff-white-knuckle-sneaker-punk genius for your future generation.