“ It’s a permanent state,” Liddiard sings, “ war made the State, the State made war, what’s the point of worrying ’bout it anymore?” The band chronicles weird adventures in statecraft and surveillance, ponders the global infatuation with resurgent fascisms. Youtube serpentwithfeet better ears sermon how to#Over the last five years, you didn’t have to be conspiratorial to see the conspiracies everywhere you turned and Liddiard, Fiona Kitschin, Erica Dunn, and Lauren Hammel, the Tropical Fuck Storm collective, know how to make friends with the strange. While still wanting to dance.ĭeep States mines familiar ground as well as new cultural terrains, while digging deeper into the subjective state of contemporary panic. The band wedded a brave new worldview to an ever lively acid punk sound. On not writing any new songs for the first six months of the global shutdown, he says, “ Why would I? Everything seemed pointless.” Even for a band that’s made a career out of crafting songs attuned to political and social crisis, there was a new bleak in the air, what the band calls “ give-a-fuck fatigue.” A Laughing Death in Meatspace and Braindrops, Tropical Fuck Storm’s 20 records, probed the destructive force of consumerist culture, the imperialistic reaches of the United States, the threat posed by a warming planet. Gareth Liddiard, frontman for the Aussie band with a name perfectly suited to the times, was like the rest of us in feeling the malaise. Most of us have lived some inner Tropical Fuck Storm over this past year and a half. We missed the noise we carried it inside us. In those first fearful days of the pandemic, we wrote ourselves out of existence and imagined what the world would be like without us. There were viral social media stories, most of them fake, about animals reoccupying cities, dolphins taking back the canals of Venice, elephants getting drunk in abandoned Chinese corn wine distilleries and passing out in tea gardens. Stuck indoors, we went stir crazy, imagined new worlds, dystopian worlds, apocalypses of the small and large variety. The clean and clear air in major cities was a jarring reminder of the airborne rot we had grown used to. The world had gone inside, underground, taking with it some of its more destructive aspects. It was the silence as much as the disease that proved so unsettling.
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