The Prodigy
The Fat of the Land

Talking about music, we can say that the power of memory often plays dirty tricks. On one hand, we adore albums that are objectively masterpieces (Homework by Daft Punk, just to cite my own experience), on the other, we make the mistake of overrating mediocre or merely decent works due to the affection we feel towards them.

The Fat of the Land by Prodigy falls into this second category. Its release is inevitably intertwined with my own life: twelve years old, a Christmas spent with family and, under the tree, a flashy portable stereo with Bass Boost to annoy the neighbors plus the infamous crab, immortalized on the shore of an unknown beach of the orbis terrarum. In hindsight, it's impossible not to highlight the importance of that gift, capable of shaping my tastes and steering them towards the world of "alternative" music or supposedly so. However, a review requires a clear and detailed analysis, guaranteed by maturity and the passage of time (let’s say old age), and that is what I will try to do.

The Fat of the Land was released in 1997, three years after the previous Music for the Jilted Generation, and it represents a new step in the career of the Braintree band. Staying true to their line, Howlett and company change their approach again: if Experience perfectly synthesized the hardcore sound of the early Nineties and Music for the Jilted Generation leaned towards darker, more menacing techno, the third work dives headlong into the trend of the time, big beat, that mix of rock, electronics, and psychedelia exemplified by albums like Dig Your Own Hole by the Chemical Brothers or You’ve Come a Long Way, Baby by Fatboy Slim. To confirm the clever and somewhat trendy move is the makeover of the group members, who present themselves to the public with a much more aggressive look than before (the legendary "wings" of Keith Flint, at the sight of which my parents prayed to God that I wouldn't turn into a rebellious drunk).

Getting straight to the point, we could say that The Fat of the Land is not a bad album: the attempt to renew themselves once again is appreciable, confirming the chameleonic tendencies of the Prodigy and their ability to keep up with the times, especially during a period of great evolution of electronic sound. Nevertheless, a careful listen reveals that not everything goes smoothly and that some flaws compromise the final result.

Let's start with the positives: the duo of "Narayan"/"Firestarter" represents the best and most inspired moment of the album. The first track is a long psychedelic outburst accompanied by the voice of Crispian Mills, singer of Kula Shaker, who doesn’t even hold back on the mantra "Ohm Namo Narayana" in the middle of the track; the second is famous for the video clip that emphasizes the punk and madcap attitude of Keith Flint ("I’m the trouble starter, punkin’ instigator": who hasn’t shouted it at the top of their lungs?), while the production is dominated by pounding drums and obsessive sonorities perfectly crafted by Liam Howlett, the real mastermind of the Prodigy.

It’s precisely "Firestarter" that introduces one of the peculiarities of The Fat of the Land, consisting of the greater contribution of Maxim and Keith Flint in the execution and writing of the tracks (the dancer Leeroy Thornhill, on the other hand, remains relegated to the role of frontman and stage animal). The choice is sometimes spot-on, as in the case of the hypnotic "Breathe", even if the sword samples contribute to making it all a bit kitschy (famous the video, full of rats, cockroaches, and other disgusting things). The breakbeat of "Mindfields" is also interesting, where the pseudo-rap of Maxim takes center stage (shame about the synths, which resemble a kitten’s meow or the atmospheres of "Charly", lacking the depth of the original). At other times, the recipe doesn’t seem to work properly: "Serial Thrilla", for example, winks at rap and nu-metal, complete with scratching, big guitars and a not-so-excellent performance by good old Keith. The instrumental tracks are also not very successful: "Funky Shit" samples the Beastie Boys from "Root Down" ("Oh my god, that’s the funky shit!"), but even today, after twenty-four years, I can’t understand what is so “funky” about it; "Climbatize", instead, is the worst track of the lot, drowned in a boring wall of sound punctuated by horse neighs (or something similar) and avoidable exotic suggestions, style One Thousand and One Nights.

Wanting to save something else, we could remember the single "Smack My Bitch Up", with that Ultramagnetic MCs sample used somewhat inappropriately and that quite incomprehensible Middle Eastern interlude (at the beginning, strange sounds, similar to flatulence, can be heard. Did the Prodigy overindulge in the bean stew?), and especially "Diesel Power", industrial-rap enhanced by the rhymes of Kool Keith. The energetic electro-rock of "Fuel My Fire" is overall good, but we are still talking about a cover (the song is by L7) and, in general, a piece quite distant from the group’s standards (the featuring of Saffron from Republica is superfluous).

At the end of the day, of the fifty-six minutes of The Fat of the Land (a phrase translatable roughly as “wealth” or “comfort”), only a few delight our auditory pavillions, while there is an abundance of unappreciated solutions, making it a clever move with commercial aims, but not entirely satisfactory from a musical standpoint.

The conclusion is predictable: after realizing the inevitable change in my tastes, a few years ago I walked into a store in the historic part of Naples and sold The Fat of the Land. I faced the sadness and melancholy and freed myself of an object undoubtedly precious but turned into a useless ornament, abandoned on a shelf gathering dust (and the flashy stereo also mysteriously disappeared).

Now the space left by that and other CDs has been filled by various records. Among them stand out Experience and Music for the Jilted Generation, which remain the two great albums of the Prodigy. Yet even today I thank the enigmatic crab: if I am like this, in the end, I owe a little bit to him too.

Thanks a lot, my crab. Wherever you are.

Reviewer’s Rating: 3,5