Fad Gadget
Fireside Favourites

THE REVIEW

Frank Tovey's "newsreel" comes across as quite meticulous. As a Virgo (zodiac sign), creativity and rigor can be simplified as he's a nitpicker who tells you without judging that you're a piece of shit, a dickhead, a miser, and explains that your encephalitic being is due to that time your parents relied on the effectiveness of "coitus interruptus" as a contraceptive and ended up having a screw.

But instead, a little drop escaped, and you were born, unwanted, unloved, unnoticed. And so you realized, the more you grew, that you weren't alone in being alone, almost everyone lived in that condition as orphans of LOVE. Moreover, not having the dough to pay for a nice twenty-year psychoanalytic session, which in the end should solve your ancient existential problems but definitely makes you become either trans or a top manager (it’s the same thing), it exponentiates the depression that sways you between the verge of becoming an addict or making a damn career of being a fast-food fry cook (it’s the same thing).

Fad Gadget takes the matter to heart and blesses you with a "macula non est in te," comforting us that we're all in the same boat and sets up the estranging circus of real life and caustically, cynically, nihilistically creates an island that distracts the screwing forces of this world made of possessions.

And we are happy to find ourselves in a consistory where there is no hope in noting that "no matter how you turn it, you always end up taking it up the ass." The awareness of this human condition is already a big deal, given the realization of the continuous attacks from the "lower astral," which invisibly surrounds us and always aims to spread cheeks and attempt relentless penetrations everywhere.

Thankfully, our fine fellow mystifies the invasive mechanical-psychic friction by disguising it with musical sojourns that might seem to comply with the unwilling frequentation of the second channel, but instead, they reveal themselves as panaceas of balsamic cream relieving the burns of various regime sodomies always ready to take you by surprise, from behind, given the external premeditation to lead you to stiffness in the sheep position.

The sonic rendering is comforting in capturing, beyond the murky curtain of a winking synth, the incitement to recover the upright position and the "volemose bene," setting aside random erections and seeking a non-derivative "show must go on," but based on the acceptance of the bright "monstrosities" in each of us and where Vaseline is used as a lubricant to interact with the friction of mutual compassions, no longer acting and finally discarding the mask, without a placebo effect.

And many have heart attacks because they loved too little, and a few have heart attacks because they loved for the others as well. Eternity is long, and Fad Gadget gives us the gift of smoothing it a little by keeping it in our face with a pathological amusement, beside the hearth.