I always enjoy the unexpected and so, when a completely unknown (to me) artist gets in touch with a review request, I’m always glad to check it out. Here, we have Fluvster, a band that delights in ignoring genres, dipping the occasional body part into punk, stoner, grunge, electronica, and anything else that bounces into view, without ever committing to any one approach. In many ways, Fluvster’s output is reminiscent of Beck’s wilfully lo-fi albums released via Flipside and K records, and once you dispense with the idea that an album needs to represent sonic perfection (an irritating myth largely peddled by the same people who bought you the repugnant Idol series), you’ll find a lot to enjoy amidst the surprisingly eclectic soundscapes, childlike lyrics, and free-form punk jams.
The album kicks off with Intertwat Spat, which opens by imagining what punk might sound like had it been invented by the Tellytubbies. Stick around though, and you’ll find yourself bizarrely reminded of some of the early Gabriel-era Genesis experiments, the Fluvster’s gloriously innocent delivery set against a descending keyboard line and simplistic percussive swing. As the vocals slowly trip over one another, so the song enters a whole new world, only to return to the simplistic punk of its opening once more. Things remain firmly in the gutter of the Fluvster’s mind with Fuck A Duck (Walk Like Rob De Niro), which you imagine is what would happen if Julian Cope had grown up listening to Crass and then partnered with Sleaford Mods. Next up, the rolling toms of Cunt On A Stunt, with its lo-fi, scratchy guitars, is a punky blast, only for an incongruous wash of ravey synth to send it off in a different direction, just as you think you’ve got it sussed. An album highlight, it may not be safe for work; but anywhere else, play it loud as it not only rocks, but it’s got one hell of an addictive pulse.
Stealing the riff from Brimful Of Asher and cross-pollinating it with I Wanna Be Your Dog, Nazi-Enabler (Same Old Shite) is one of the album’s most ferocious tracks, before the first half wraps up with the hypnotic pulse of Wooden Tops, which features a guest vocal from Fren Delique. Despite the deliberately scruffy production, it’s a multi-layered and intelligent arrangement showing that the Fluvster, already showing impressive range on the preceding tracks, is arguably even better when leaning away from scratchy punk to deliver something with a darkly unique vibe.
The second half of the album is one of steadily increasing rewards. It kicks off with the trippy electronic pulse of Follow Your Reason, a brilliantly realised and surprisingly emotional piece of music that acts like a plea for sanity in these increasingly hysterical times. It’s followed by Mutton Head which pitches a gritty monologue against a Portishead-esque backing – extending into a sort of chant that sets the senses spinning. Returning to the dirty punk of the album’s first half, Hash Oil (wrongly billed as A Stitch Up), sounds like it was recorded on a boombox in some dank studio, while the following A Stitch Up is what would happen if Pink Floyd and Tricky jammed together while taking some heavy-duty psychedelics. Fren appears on both tracks, adding backing vocals to Hash Oil and coming across like a high-pitched Kim Gordan on A Stitch Up. With its post punk guitars and dub bass lines, it’s the sort of music liable to give you a contact high, and it’s almost a relief when it drifts into the gentle, acoustic coda of the title track. A rather beautiful moment of calm, it builds wonderfully and, while it’s not at all the ending I expected to this eclectic gem of an album, it is the ending the record deserves.
We have become so trained to expect music to be perfect in delivery, whether on record or on stage, that it takes a moment when confronted with something far more honest. As such, when you first drop Stained Glarse Windows into the player, you may wonder what on earth you’re listening to, but that’s just the juxtaposition of the mass-produced versus the uniquely human.
And Fluvster really is a perfect example. The diversity of the music is spellbinding, the quality of the arrangements frequently exemplary (see: Wooden Tops, Mutton Head, and Follow Your Reason), while the bare bones production allows an air of spontaneity to shine through – the ultimate act of musical subversion in these consumption-obsessed times. Worth buying in physical form and worth playing loud, Stained Glarse Windows may be not be music for the masses – it’s too spikey for that – but it is unerringly brilliant, unflinchingly honest, and really rather essential for anyone who believes that music should be an artform rather than a product. 8.5/10
