Fuck – Conduct – Review

Fuck

Conduct (Matador)
by Nik Rainey

Sometimes, it takes the absence of something to realize its nature, its shape only truly defined when you notice the contours of the void it leaves behind. The members of Fuck seem to have intuited this fact, and set about creating a rock ‘n’ roll that distills and distinguishes its common elements and either removes, segregates, or denudes them to reimagine their function within the whole. I can feel most of your eyes glazing over already, and that’s okay – Fuck is a subtle kick to be sure, likely to put the vast majority of you to sleep or at least pass through your consciousness with hardly a ripple of recognition, and that’s part of the design. A band with this name is obviously not trying to win the hearts of the masses. They have a goofy, absurd sense of humor (as their covers and their press kits show), but prefer to leave it at the door and keep it out of the music.

The songs tend not to outlive their usefulness, averaging out to about two minutes a piece, yet squirm a mite uncomfortably in the space between overt minimalism and overwrought complexity (each of which is just as showy as the other). Although Conduct is a somewhat more plugged-in affair than their previous disc, Pardon My French, the rockier moments lack the thrust of macho metallurgy or the tortured wail of the cathartist – to them, a jam session must be closer to an insert-gingerly session. Standard dynamics are quietly upended, whether they be musical – observe the subtle shape-shifting of “Monkey Doll,” which organically transmogrifies its tempo a good half-dozen times in the space of two minutes – or inter-band (each member switches off instruments without begging credit). Even their appropriation of the most notorious syllable in the history of the language turns out snaky – placed in a context neither profane nor juvenile, the word is quietly stripped of its ability to shock or offend. You may even come to savor it as you do the music behind it, appreciating the way the air hisses between teeth and lip, the delicate drop of the guttural vowel, and the crisp clack of its closure. Appropriate for a band that beggars (buggers?) all common definitions.
(625 Broadway New York, NY 10012)