NEW-NOISE.NET - | June 01.06.06 - 30.06.06

Holy Fuck
By Jim Merrett

Given that The Da Vinci Code has grown into an all-but-unavoidable phenomenon, there are perhaps few of us who haven’t entertained the notion that Jesus may have got jiggy with Mary Magdalene. Son of God, maybe, he was human, after all. Zeitgeist then – this 2,000 year old East Enders plotline – might explain how Holy Fuck earned the name, but that is probably just a coincidence.

Neither is it swearing for the sake of it – as anyone who has seen this band in action can confirm, the moniker is thoroughly deserved. By bashing your aural sensory equipment with an unearthly barrage of noise, Holy Fuck switch your brain to default setting. You will be left powerless as those words tumble out of your mouth.

As though Canada had not done enough Holy Fuck happen to be about the single greatest energy unleashed by this country in recent years and that is saying something. Wet your pants time this is.

Four guys, a drum kit and a whole bunch of instruments plugged into a mixing desk that was probably constructed out of shoeboxes. This rationalisation does nothing to capture what is Holy Fuck. To delve further, we may have to resort to science.

Pick a moment at random from the live show, send it to the lab for testing and you could trace DNA samples from any of the following: Sonic Youth, The Boredoms, Fatboy Slim, Can, The Chemical Brothers, Aphex Twin, The Go! Team, Antipop Consortium and My Bloody Valentine. The remaining 76 per cent would still come back as unidentifiable. Gleeful whirling fuzzy electronic psychedelic euphoria lies at the heart of this jumbled radioactive mess, but it has swelled into some Akira-like entity far beyond the perimeters originally imposed on it. You can feel this beast feed on you as you listen.

From improvised jamming the core of a set is beginning to take shape. Obviously still open to experimentation – the average gig will probably see the band introducing some new piece of hardware salvaged from a local school’s lost property box, added to the mix with no consideration of the consequences – there are now, dare I say it, songs emerging from the rubble. There is an album that offers a suggestion of what to expect, but in the year-and-a-half since that was recorded, it has evolved into a new species.

You will have the contours of your brain worn down by shards of liquid magma noise and you will embrace every second with the grin of a baby that has just discovered its feet at the end of its legs.

No, scrub all that. The name is simple – this is like the best sex that you ever had, only better.

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