Android Virus has been talking Berlin’s THE FEVER up to me for quite a few months now. So he acquired me a copy of their most recent release, and 3rd e.p., “DIRTY HOT.” As so often is the case I had no idea what I was being given, or about to hear. If nothing else, I figured the cover was more than intriguing, being two scantily clad figures, of dual gender, photographed only from nose to crotch, both with their nipples duct-taped with “X”’s, pale and sweaty flesh vibrantly exposed against a black background, with the word “DIRTY” written on the males chest in neon pink lipstick, and “HOT” written on the females serpentine-curved belly in the same. *(It’s fukking incredibly sexy, what else can I say?)
What I was not aware of was that the music contained within would be just as sexy. It’s a strangely blended dark-electro post-punk psychedelia. Initially it is reminiscent of a couple of different things. Most distinctly, their sound at first most reminded me of a very early BLONDIE *(there’s even a lyric in the song “Queen” wherein the stunning Aryan-Goddess of a female vocalist belts out “Blast your Heart of Glass to shards” – – – if that’s not a deserving, killer, well placed homage, I don’t know what is – – – this is also my favorite track on the album). However, it goes far beyond that.
The album progresses as it plays further in, with elements of a dirty psychedelic-blues beginning to meld perfectly into and with the hook-laden melodies of the sexually charged dark-electro post-punk, and definitively dancey, occasional PIL-like elements *(P.I.Lements? I know, lame).
Topically, most of the songs are about bad love, worse habits, boredom with life. Love and hate being one and the same, awareness of and carelessness of such, and pissing that all to the wind. The drug of choice is anything, but most especially sex, and the simple need for touch ultimately ruling over all, then laying all in it’s wake to waste as the ugly inner-truths explode – – – recklessly riding into death’s eye while running from personal agonies and pains that are inescapable. My second favorite, “Down The Highway,” captures this all in a perfectly sleazy post-punk dance beauty of a song.
“On The Warpath,” the final and only song sung by the male half of this unique multi-instrumentalist duo, plays out like classic, straight up late-60’s garage-rock, the song about the foolish horrors of war, and how it will never end – – – replete with an atom bomb blast to end the all too short an album. A climax, if you will, leaving only the hush of a deathlike silence in its aftermath of a completely maddened carnal frenzy. Even love can end in war. Metaphorical, to the hilt.
They’ve recently completed an exhausting U.S. tour, bringing their darkly danceable euro-sleaze sounds of sex and sin right where we need them – – – HERE. A good thing, they are in the process of booking another tour, to which I fully intend to catch them when they come around. Until then, pick this album up. Support decent new music, and give this captivating duo the capacity to keep forging ahead. BUY THE FEVER’S ‘DIRTY HOT’, you cheap fukker. You know you want it for the cover alone.
Vincent Daemon, writer, editor, musician, photgrapher, film/music buff and historian, and rabblerouser, can be found on Facebook at https://www.facebook.com/vincent.daemon.1 as well as his spontaneously updated blog of writing news and nonsense THE WRITINGS OF A DEPRAVED MIND http://vincentdaemon.blogspot.com/ Some of his music can be painfully experienced at http://www.reverbnation.com/vincentdaemonsageofdesire3 His email is firstname.lastname@example.org