Prodigy – Fat of the Land – Review

Prodigy

Fat of the Land (Maverick)
by Malcolm E

“Oh my god, that’s some funky shit!” screams the sampled Ad Rock at the opening of “Funky Shit,” followed closely by a riff from the theme song to “S.W.A.T.” And in the liner notes, the question arises, “Steel or Lard?”

Steel or lard?

Rock or techno?

Who cares?

Prodigy, no matter how I hate to hype bands popular with the flipped-baseball-cap set, is a force of the future. They will change, and are changing, the way people perceive computer music. The Fat Of The Land combines high-intensity electronics and production with barebones rock/punk energy. It sucks in thrill seekers from all sides, grabs them by the shoulders and proceeds to pummel them into a greasy little puddle of adrenaline and X. And do they apologize? Fuck no. The first track, “Smack My Bitch Up,” lets us know that there’s no escape, they’re here to take over your shallow little reality. Follow that with “Breathe,” and you’re done for. With breakbeats and samples flying thick, they don’t get fancy with their flash, they go straight for the gut. This is where you see the difference between Prodigy and, say, the Chemical Brothers. Namely, vocals. Yeah, Chem Bros got Noel Gallagher for “Setting Sun,” but that’s a one-shot. With Keith Flint and Maxim cutting loose over the top of electricity going insane, the music raises itself a level, brings it out of the dance hall and into the abbatoir, something that’s comfortable in the car, club, kitchen, or (best of all) when you’re having sex so intense that you start to hallucinate. Kool Keith, aka “Dr. Octagon,” guests in and does his business on “Diesel Power,” and Crispian Mills from Kula Shaker does his own take on “Setting Sun” with “Narayan.” Of course, “Firestarter” is included, and even though I’ve heard it 10,000 times in the clubs, and though it has gotten a little stale (thank god “Breathe” has finally started to hit the floors), damn if that beat doesn’t get my head to spinning. It’s the studio tricks of slamming the bass all the way down and cranking the highs, with Keith spitting injections all over. Prodigy makes all this cold technology breathe with human life and emotion, making a translation from the past to the future, replacing a Townshend windmill-power chord with bone-breaking bass. Enough with the little techno geeks sitting around a computer slamming out beats and not coming up with any way to communicate with an audience save for a couple of cool lighting maneuvers and heavy drug intake. Prodigy knows how to kick it out, on both stage and in the studio. I know I’m being too hasty saying that they’re the future of music, but they’re definitely the future of something. Whatever the outcome, Prodigy knows how to get a floor rocking, even going so far to cover L7’s “Fuel My Fire,” with Republica’s Saffron helping out Keith. You can just smell the crossover… Just be sure to keep your shovel and knee-length boots handy when the rest of the computer world figures out a formula for this stuff. The shit’s gonna pile up.