Fangs: Really dumb..., what?
Being one of our writer, Steve Gislam's, favourite bands ever, he took far too long to perfect this swear-packed, uncensored mini-magnum opus of his. It is however, an honest statement of a band whose identity has been remoulded and reformed. And apparently they smell like rotting food, or something...
Arising from the ashes of electro-nasties Motormark, and a fateful encounter over a stolen handbag in a nightclub, Fangs are the food that’s been left in the fridge too long, (their words, not mine). They present an entire outlook on life that serves as a message to us all about self-expression and the freedom of the creative spirit. And, if it’s true that punk is essentially whatever you want it to be, that the aesthetic at its very core is simply that you play by the rules, or more specifically lack of rules, that you set yourself, then Fangs are about as punk as you can get.
Having only an hour or so previously finished their own set, and brimming jovially with white wine and the aftertaste of a blinding performance from Black Kids, SUPERSWEET finds Fangs in a congenial mood. Under the neon strip-lights of the dressing room, We get the opportunity to see the band in a different focus. Effortlessly cool and each looking every inch the club-kid rock stars, the gang of art-hooligans tearing up the stage shortly earlier proves to be affable and charming hosts, offering a genuine willingness to talk about their music and their inception as a band.
Despite having received offers for record deals with rather appealing price tags attached, Marko and Jane (aka 'The Queen') promptly announced that Motormark were disbanding there and then, at the end of a show in Eastern Europe. Neither seems to have any desire to reform the group, and both stress that Fangs are a completely different band. “We don’t want there to be that history. This isn’t just Motormark with a drummer,” says Marko sipping on his beer. “Motormark is a band that split up. And we formed from an idea that came from a few words passed in a nightclub in Edinburgh.”
In a twist that proves the adage that every cloud has a silver lining, the duo’s meeting with Findlay was spawned from loss. Jane explains, “We were in a club in Edinburgh and somebody stole my bag. I needed some make-up, and Findlay said he’d help me out.”
"Yeah, I was better made-up than anyone else in there”, Findlay laughs. This isn’t hard to believe, even given the presence of Jane and Marko, themselves not afraid of a bit of slap, he is by far the most effortlessly glamorous drummer that we have seen in some time.
And what of Findlay’s past musical exploits?
“I’ve been in a few bands. I never played drums though,” he explains, moving onto something that unite Fangs as a band; the DIY ethic. “When we first met we talked about what we wanted to do, and having a drummer seemed like a good idea. I’d never played drums, Marko had never played bass.”
So was this a deliberate effort on the part of the band to do things differently?
“Absolutely”, he says smiling, “We wanted to move away from our comfort zones and do things that weren’t familiar to us. Get a sense of perspective, I guess. I didn’t want to play like a drummer, Marko didn’t want to play like a bassist and Jane didn’t want to sing like a singer.”
Hence the 3-stringed bass guitar?
“Yeah, I mean, four strings would really fuck with my head,” laughs Marko. “It’s really because the way I want to perform and the riffs that I enjoy aren’t necessarily punk, indie or alternative rock based riffs. The riffs I enjoy all come from a synthesizer. I feel I can get that, the way that I want to write and play, by adjusting the instruments and playing to suit my ideas. It’s just tradition that says you play your guitar with all the strings on.”
“You could play your guitar with your feet,” adds Findlay, “It’s the same approach for the drumming, the same approach for the singing, the same approach for the whole band. It’s about ideas that are shared between ourselves. I think it was like that from the word go.”
“At the first rehearsal we didn’t have any instruments”, Marko recalls, “We went to a rehearsal room and stood in it. It was just us just saying, ‘Right, what the fuck are we gonna do? What will this be?’ We knew we wanted to do something together, but for the first two, three weeks of rehearsal we didn’t play anything.”
It is this spirit of creating something organic from three separate musical minds, that is Fangs very raison d’être. It is apparent that they are a band who eat, sleep, drink and think what they do. There is no pretence of a rock ‘n’ roll cliché, or any apparent desire to pander to the whim and fancy of fashion and fad. Fangs do what they do with a disregard for expectation and heritage, and they do it unapologetically and without pandering to the expectations of any external influence.
It is in this spirit that Marko reveals his idea for a potential album, “We want to make some 7”s, because they’re the fucking medals aren’t they?” he says holding an imaginary vinyl medallion from around his neck. “Nobody talks about albums these days, it’s all about songs and the iTunes generation. So let’s give them a pile of 7”s.”
And given Jane and Marko’s comments about pop culture and expiry dates, We're curious to know how long Fangs have got before their shelf-life is up. “This was already off before it started. It’s already mould,” Marko laughs. “We’re going to see how long we can let this one last. Let’s keep it in the fridge for a while.”
“No, let’s leave it out!” says Jane, upping the ante.
Running with the theme we discuss the fate of pop culture itself. Which begs the question, will pop actually eat itself?
“We are Fangs! We ate it already,” she declares, with a half-smile.
Before getting ready to leave, we ask the band if they can give me a word each to describe what Fangs are about. Pondering this for a moment it is up to Jane to take the lead.
“Really…”, she ventures.
We look to Findlay who passes over to Marko, who proffers the word “dumb.”
So, ‘Really, dumb…’, what?
Findlay slumps in the chair, shakes his head and exclaims, “Fuck”.
“Really, dumb fuck,” chuckles Jane.
“Yeah, that makes me feel kind of sexy”, Marko smiles.
Imagine a gaggle of beautifully twisted lust-children spawned by a combination of Andy Warhol, Michael Alig, The Ramones and Suzi Quatro then you’re vaguely close to the look, sound and ethos of Fangs. It’s pop-culture fascination mixed with a dogged determination to do things differently and in a way that’s not been done before. As a band they are sincerely passionate about their roles as artists and are steadfastly attached to their creative freedom as musicians.
Given that Spring is on it’s way, and the climate is getting warmer, SUPERSWEET wonders what particular species of life forms will begin forming on the already mildewed carcass of Fangs, and like a gang of musical Alexander Flemings, Jane, Marko and Findlay are forging ahead with something new and organic of their own, something that will grow and shape and form and it seems that every venue they play is their very own petri dish. And if the future is mouldy, at least that means that it’ll be colourful.
Words: Steve Gislam
Photography: Emli Bendixen