FIDLAR

When is the last time you just wilded the fuck out for the fuck of it?

It has been a while for me, I was easing into a relative state of inactivity and middle-agedness and then out of nowhere FIDLAR’s EP DIYDUI drops in my lap and everything fucking changed. For one I stopped eating salad, much to the chagrin of my lady friend. I also have not worn a shirt in a week and a half. I do everything shirtless and only wear flip flops; half the time I am standing next to someone working on something or another with one hand on my hip and the other holding a flip top can of Moosehead, barking out instructions. My boss and friends don’t approve and have been thinking about staging an intervention, but fuck them. I dare them to throw on DIYDUI and not kick a hole in their kid's latest art project.
It stirs some shit up.

From the very first track, Wake Bake Skate you are reborn, baptized in the fuzzy guitars and nervous energy that I used to only associate with low-grade speed I would get from the kids who took shop. The whole fucking EP is this raucous destructive medley that lasts for just over 8 minutes, ends, and leaves you with blood on your knuckles wondering what the fuck happened and why you are punching the fridge. Even the slower, more laid back tracks like Oh instill a sense of mayhem; I guess more emotional mayhem than burning your neighbor’s car brand of destruction.

Essentially FIDLAR is the perfect band to throw on when you are drinking cheap liquor, in need of a burst of energy, or trimming the x-mas tree. It is 8 minutes of complete and total punk perfection. So throw it on, let it soak in, take of your shirt, and let’s see what we can do with this old piece of ply-wood I took from the neighbors shed (no, not code).