FUCKED UP: Dangerous Fumes: 7”

The power of satire is in not only knowledge—but a greater understanding—and then a confounding of initial expectations. It’s relatively easy to fuck with people and negate them. (i.e. war bad, religion bad, fuck toddlers, go fuck yourself.) It’s a magician trick to criticize the very people who will seek out your record. Let’s back up. Fucked Up. The band’s name alone would prevent ninety-eight percent of the bands in the world from playing a second show. Who’d book ‘em beyond a backyard? And one of the remaining two percent of people predisposed to liking a band called Fucked Up have A.D.D. Anything over a minute really tests their music boundaries. So, at the beginning of this—with longer songs (for hardcore) and a restrictive name, we’re at one percent. And that’s just when Fucked Ups’ in the blocks, ready to sprint. Here we are at Dangerous Fumes, which casually whips out two epics, the reproduction of a painting of naked young boys on the inside of the cover, and a Lolita-style narrative in “Teenage Problems.” All this, in lesser hands, would be clumsy and so transparently “offensive” as to be easy to dismiss. However, this Toronto foursome isn’t mashing every taboo button on the console blindly. They’ve calculated it out. The sum total? Challenging and victorious hardcore that questions the very roots from which it was borne. It’s the undiluted spirit of Black Flag and Poison Idea and it’s happening right now. Welcome to that one percent that rules, defines, and shapes what’s to come. –

 –todd (Deranged)