Public Body - Finger Food
Public Body Recordings
Brighton's Public Body release album number two Finger Food. 27-minutes of rolling rhythms, red-hot guitarwork and choc-a-bloc with 21st Century witticisms, Finger Food is this ever-so-serious yet ever-so-silly slab of self loathing.
Right from the get-go we're dunked face-first down into the frantic worlds of Finger Food with album opener "Breakfast", the first of three instrumental tracks which line the album - "Snack Time" and "Dinner" join later to solidify the fact that food time isn't talk time. With the opener, on the left we have a furnaced frenzy, on the right a wet cat clawing for attention, and down the middle, a range of noises including a waterfall-y woob-woob-woob-woob sonic blackhole which sucks the listener in further for easy picking.
Spaceships hover up-and-down at fast intervals, not sure whether to park-up or find another planet. Irish dancers flap their limbs at superhuman speeds. They give off noticeable heat, an oasis-like shimmer. It's all set at quite a ferocious, frenzied pace. There's a finish line out there, and we're going to fucking cross it. Set the pace; set the time; set the standard. Take the path of least resistance; least discomfort; least pushback. Make it somewhere at the speed of light. Get there, take a look around, and, well, move on to the next one. I'll ridicule myself so you don't have to. Another mistake, another easy decision. It's the hard ones which require the most attention. When time is money and money is time, there's no time to stop and think!
There's this really offset charm to Finger Food - Public Body's previous album Big Mess was the same. It's upsettingly off-kiltered but undeniably fantastic: left-of-centre and straight up the right street. It's charming in the most uncharming ways.
The album rolls rubber-like towards its finish line and just.... ends. Like a speedrunner that shuts down as the race comes to a close; a full-stop after a long stretch of words which seem to be going somewhere.
It's yet another short-and-sweet, tasty treat from the Public Body collective. With each track running pretty much at the two-minute-mark, it's a collection of bitesized bits - just as the album's title would suggest: food for your fingers; snacks for your ears.
