In Heat - The Fools (self released)
Let’s get the clichés out of the way; the show business myths that promise that the cream rises. That living fast and dying young will ensure immortality. It’s all bullshit. Too many artists fall through a crack in the Earth whilst laurels crown the insipid and the banal.
How many great albums and films have vanished to land fill? How many books are lost because libraries can’t afford the storage on their back catalogues? How much blood, sweat and tears has evaporated into the ether? Forgotten whilst the over culture lets us eat dog food. Here is your chance to right that wrong.
I won’t give you a history of “The Fools” beyond they came from Newcastle NSW. Their singer committed suicide. They had supported Radio Birdman and Wayne Kramer. They recorded an album. It was considered lost until a box of discs turned up. That’s all I know.
I think the Barman has an interview that might flesh out some details. I haven’t read it. It’s not like the Internet is flushed with detail. I’ve listened to the album though. Even if the Barman hadn’t plied me a copious supply of Wild Turkey, I would have spotted quality when I heard it. This is one of the greatest Australian rock and roll albums of all time. And buddy, I’m not shitting you.
Think of a cross between the Saints circa '77 and the New Christs with a more mainstream vocal. Think everything you have heard about The Hits and multiply by two. I have precious little biographical material to go on. I never saw them play live. I didn’t hear them on the radio. They fucking rock. (Or rocked if you must limit your temporal understanding). I can’t believe a record as glorious as this exists and I have never heard of it.
I’m not going to give you a blow by blow track list. You’ve never heard these tracks. Triple j will remain as clueless as fuck. There’s no YouTube or Soundcloud. The only way you will hear the wonder of this disc is to fork out your hard earned cash. Do it.
The high points of this album start with the counter set at zero and end 51 minutes later. Think wah wah electric storm screeching mother fucking rock and roll action. Think the best record you have never heard. Think “Why the fuck doesn’t my band sound half as cool as this?”
Look. I know The Fools have a few things going against them. Like there’s a long standing American band with the same name. Like they’re younger than you and didn’t play at the Trade Union Club. Like they kick your band’s arse seven ways to Sunday. Like you gave up buying music from new bands in 1985.
There is no excuse for ignoring this disc. Even the “ballads” are ruthless enough to warrant your attention. Dig deep in your wallet, cheapskate. I thought you said you loved rock and roll. Let me put my personal recommendation to this disc. If you don’t like it, I’ll reward you with your very own bitch slapping. This is why I gave your stinking album a three bottles review. You should buy it now and thank me later. All killer. No filler. My lesson endeth here.