Feedtime
Feedtime

If you're looking for the perfect link between the wildest garage rock derived from MC5 and Stooges and the brutal hardcore in the style of Germs or Fear, this is the album for you: the self-titled album by Feedtime, an ephemeral Australian band that created a sound that remains among the most incendiary ever, a cross between Radio Birdman and the less melodic Husker Du, is one of the masterpieces of the mid-Eighties.

This is excellently demonstrated by the inflammatory attack of "Fastbuck", where Rick, the leader, literally tortures the poor guitar he has at hand and the gusts of bass sound incredibly filthy, irreverent, and rotten. "All Down" brings everything back to normal with a calm bass line and an exhausted declamation, still surrounded by obsessive guitar feedback. Obsessive is also "Searching The Desert": the voice seems to want to tear everything apart and the bass sounds are typically "garage".
A new moment of tranquility is brought by "Doesn't Time Fly", a hallucinated, psychedelic track, extended just the right amount to send shivers with its accumulated tension that seems unable to find the right moment to fully release. And what about "Dead Crazy", an intriguing epileptic crescendo enriched with extremely annoying reverberations and feedback dissonances? "Don't Like" is instead an explicit return to the most classic rock 'n' roll, with the usual atmosphere of impending carnage. Also noteworthy is a curious ironic track, almost Zappa-like: "Clowns" is structured on a chant, still ruined and distorted by the usual fetid sound. Hardcore in the best tradition is "Southside Johnny", accompanied by a spasmodically accelerated rhythm. It is probably the fastest track, where the influence of the best Californian bands, especially Germs, is most evident.

The gems of this short but intense album are truly many: "Wonder What's The Matter" is also one of these, thanks to an inexorable stream of consciousness and an unusual accompaniment for punk, reminiscent more of the roots rock of the Gun Club. "Ha Ha" brings the sound of these three crazies close to the voodobilly of the Cramps, while the closing is entrusted to "I Wanna Ride", with its captivating, syncopated, and elastic progression at the same time.

In conclusion, "Feedtime" is a hallucinatory trip into the depths of madness, one of the most ferocious albums with the fewest refinishing embellishments that history remembers. Art, after all, is also made this way.