DESCRIPTION:
There are a lot of great tragedies afoot in this world of ours. Starvation, rampant capitalism, annoying facebook updates, animals staring at us with evil gimlet eyes as if they know something we don't know. One of the greatest misfortunes to ever befall us has to be the general public's complete neglect of Family Fodder's music. They are, for my money (I have no money), the greatest collision between pop music and wild dada invention the world has ever seen. This particular haunting, dubby, almost dream poppy number comes from their second album All Styles, which reportedly didn't even manage to shift 100 copies at the time of its release. It was the band's attempt at making a record which touches on virtually every genre they could think of, but I s'pose in a way they failed; their innate oddness abounds on every song, merging it into one great big beautiful messy answer to Sandinista. I guess this is what happens when you're a Post-Punk group whose main songwriter is an accordionist. If ya like this, steer yourself towards the 2-CD compilation More Great Hits, which is just loaded to the gills full've lively subversive New Wave gems that Avant-Heads can listen to without feeling guilty. "She goes to the bathroom; that's no place for me!"