Words by Sean Moeller, Illustration by Johnnie Cluney, Recording engineered by Ian Grimble and Richard Matthews of Communion Music at 2KHz, Crouch End, London
The other morning, we watched a fire do some terrible things to our neighbors. You tend to forget how non-negotiable flames can be with enough fuel, oxygen and elbow room. We didn't show up on the scene until the blaze had already been raging for over five hours, but there it was, still threatening to take us all down all the same. The fire department finally tamed it completely, and they must have a sixth sense about when they're licking a fire. When the fight turns to a struggle and then just a scene from a melodramatic play before it peters out or finally submits.
Thinking about what we came upon of that fire the other morning and listening to these four songs by FAMY and it gets you thinking about what kind of a resolve those early tendrils of fire must have had. The way that they pulled themselves off of the old wooden beans must have been athletic. It was all part of a horrific and destructive act, but the pure physics of what they were doing, would have been something to see at the outset before quickly dousing them to stop what they were about to do. The way they slowly built. The way they ripped toward the sky with such hot, unstoppable breath must have been almost erotic.
FAMY music is that of those early rushes of heat, with plenty of reserve in them, ready to just erupt into something. They're more the plumes coming off a stoic cup of coffee, rather than a wildfire, but they dance in similarly hesitant, but animalistic ways. They are as intimidating as they are vulnerable. They will run up the walls invisibly and then they will get into your insulation.