TALASH
(SPUNK):
THE
FANCULOS
ALBUM
(THE
FANCULOS):
Talash (SPUNK): A band that has been around
since 2011, adding flourish to Bollywood covers
has finally decided to release original material.
There is cause to rejoice.
Mumbai-based Spunk has etched out a
quintessential rock rampage - robust, strapping
and very much an adrenaline assault to the
drug-dead heart (Pulp Fiction references are
never redundant). It expounds upon existential
struggle, a search for peace that seems to be
talked about with exhausting frequency, but
followed through almost never.
The intimidating rasp of Pakistani rock
colossus Junaid Khan (of the rock band Call)
is the incontestable highlight. Coupled with
the electric surge of guitarist Soumik Roy
(also of Yonsample), it pins your attention and
knocks out your next few breaths. Drummer
Abhinandan Mukherjee (also of Gingerfeet)
beats out a matrix of exhilaration for the song to
built its thrill upon.
Talash achieves a subcontinental collaboration
- Indian band (Spunk) + Pakistani rock-rager
(Junaid Khan) + Bangladeshi production (Glitch
Studios) + the stunning landscapes of Nepal
(where shooting occurred). Turns out, in this
case, too many cooks sweetened the broth.
The track encourages you, by implication, to
tend to the health of your soul. Venture into the
painful journey of seeking/building your own
peace. Befriend your uncertainty, and snigger at
the possibility that you might not find what you
are looking for. Look for it, nonetheless.
The Fanculos Album (The
Fanculos): To call their sound
“niche” is to limit oneself with a by-
now-banal word. Perhaps it would
be less generic to say that The
Fanculos sound like they read P.G.
Wodehouse and listen to Benny
Goodman.
As with their debut EP, this five-
headed swing monster bares its
claws in the form of ska-reggae-
sarcasm heavy sonic narrative that
asks uncomfortable questions and
reveals the sadness of the world
while being breathlessly upbeat.
They dangle buoyant compositions
that highlight the bleakness
inherent in human reality.
Case in point: I Don’t Wanna Leave
The Playground. The gentle, often
overlooked racism of everyday
existence is immortalized in an
adrenaline-ridden ditty, drawn
from vocalist Ramon Ibrahim’s
childhood. A Seriously Good
Skankin’ is, in musical form, a
hilarious headshake at the Indian
economy - forever shining and
forever in peril. Can I Ask Your
A Rhetorical Question? picks at
the plight of “relationships” stuck
in emotional limbo, thanks to the
modern-day embargo on emotional
investment ( “You’re so needy/
You’re gonna fuck it up”).
Ramon Ibrahim sounds, as he
tends to, like a wise ringmaster
leading his audience to the riotous
absurdity of an unceasing circus.
The only problem is that the
circus is simply the ringmarole of
fallacy, flaw and self-interest that
all sad-eyed humans are known
for. But his utterly inimitable
word-wielding would be for nought
without the intensely elegant-yet-
somehow-still-raucous soundmap it
fits into.
Despite the apparent frenzy of the
album’s composite ethos, the guitar
licks are patient, and Ryan Sadri’s
saxophone is a veritable siren song,
luring listeners to enchantment
and the eventual devastation (if you
listen to it long enough) of figuring
out that they might be living in a
broken reality.
The Fanculos have become
marked for their behemoth energy.
Metaphorically and literally, they
flip their hair in wild abandon,
whether they are performing to
a crowd of 2000 or 2. The album
conducts the exact same energy,
stomping, snorting, ululating -
all with a sheen of captivating
sophistication. It’s really good
music, made good by virtue of the
artists’ dexterity, whimsy and their
sense of what matters.
WHIPLASH MOTIF
(DEMIGOD):
Whiplash Motif (Demigod): Emerging out of the shimmering folds of
Jaipur, Demigod offer a rage-stomper that you can really bite into. While
I am not sure what “Life is feeling for” means, the lyrical component is
entirely adequate and can deserve no derision.
Musically, the track is straightforward, enlisting the excess and breakdown
that the genre identified itself with. Angst and self-introspection is
magnified, by virtue of blown-up choral patterns, and you have enough to
hook attention and go from approving nod to yowling headbang.