Fist Of God
(Downtown/Dim Mak; 2009)
By Calum Marsh & his imaginary friend | 4 March 2009
INT. EXPENSIVE AND LUXURIOUS LOFT (NIGHT)
An expensive and luxurious loft, very late at night. It is unclear what city we are in; could be Seattle or Chicago, but the ratio of women to men is high and everyone’s smoking indoors—come to think of it, it’s probably Montreal. The living room is large and clean. Modern art prints adorn the walls. A high ceiling. Small but powerful speakers are scattered about the room, tucked here and there behind potted plants and fish bowls, and from them booms MSTRKRFT’s latest LP, Fist Of God.
Album opener “It Ain’t Love” fills the air as chic girls in American Apparel short-shorts and gold lame bras dance around the room, spilling wine coolers and wiping coke-smears from their upper lips. The party’s DJ—new “On The Go” iPod playlist shuffling away, his milk crate of vinyl DFA singles unused and ignored on the table beside his laptop—smooths a crease out of his oversized purple polo as a wasted 17 year old slinks by, complimenting his choice of record as he not-so-subtly admires what lies just beneath her too-transparent mesh tank-top.
(Tipping his white Yankees cap)
up for the party.
off the hook.
remix of “D.A.N.C.E.” on it, and…
(Touching the DJ’s arm, ostensibly to flirt but also to keep balance)
The DJ puts Fist Of God on in full and cranks the volume. More dancing commences.
INT. E. & L. LOFT — KITCHEN
A kitchen off to the side, music volume slightly lower. More hipsters—twentysomethings in royal blue hoodies, oversized plastic sunglasses with neon trim, bottles of Labatt 50 in hands all over the room—scattered about, but considerably less dancing. Sequestered in the corner we find CALUM and his IMAGINARY FRIEND, who only CALUM can see, chatting with one another quietly.
and this sounds even worse. They want to be Daft Punk, and I
love Daft Punk, but their records sound so hollow and dull. I
don’t understand how anyone could be into this.
Look around: people here love this! They’re dancing up a
storm and I just heard a girl exclaim that this song was “the
jam.” She also said Jessie Keeler is hot, but she pronounced
it as “hawt.”
They do lots of coke and read VICE and wear nothing but
American Apparel and listen to shitty music like this.
enjoyed articles in VICE. And really, does it matter what you
think of the fans? It should be about the music…
song, “Bounce”: “All we do is party / ha ha ha ha.” This is the
biggest problem with this band and bands like them: too much
post-post-post-post anything and everything, all laced with
irony and delivered with a winking eye, a nudging elbow. They
protect themselves from criticism by refusing to take themselves
or their music seriously. It’s all so cold and empty and irritating.
to think about it; you’re supposed to relax and have a good
any criticism is immediately met with them response that it’s
“just fun” and that you shouldn’t be so serious about it.
a smirk. I remember in high school I saw some vacuous and
vapid teen comedy, and when I told my friends that it was terrible
they told me that “not every movie tries to be Citizen Kane.” The
suggestion being that anything which is aware of its own vacuity
and overall dumbness is suddenly and completely exempt from
any criticism of it being just that. I refuse to subscribe to that; I’m
not going to blindly forgive an album’s problems because it comes
with the disclaimer that it isn’t trying to blow your mind and is just
meant to be fun.
The album comes to “Word Up,” featuring Ghostface Killah. No one seems to know who Ghostface is, somehow, and the party rages on as normal.
you bothering with this silly review?
think? You’re just making fun of hipsters, basically.
paragraphs about Fist Of God, commenting on its homogeneity
and blandness, attacking it for sounding dull and boring and
vacuous and so on, rather than writing this script thing, whatever
it is, and barely talking about the music on the album at all.
hipsters are douchebags—that they like MSTRKRFT and wear
similar clothing and do a lot of coke.
to coked-out 17 year old hipsters at house parties who’ll listen to
anything with a chunky synth and handclaps, and that Fist Of God
should be avoided by anyone with a discerning ear or shred of taste.
a smug, pretentious douchebag hating on hipsters and MSTRKRFT
without reason, trying to seem…what, clever? Funny? Really?
The album comes to a close and the dancing temporarily subsides as the DJ sifts through his iPod, looking for something else to play. Calum takes a long drink of his bottle of 50 and sighs when he hears the opening blips and bloops of a new Crystal Castles remix. It’s going to be a long night.