It's easy to get blase in this business. You hear so many bands, those "whaddafuck wuz that???" moments of catching something genuinely strange, off the wall and melodic without any obvious starting/influence entry point are few and far between.
Well. friends, make no mistake: hearing Chicago's THE FIERY FURNACES for the first time is DEFINITELY one of those "Uh? Like WHAT???" scenarios and their debut single, "Crystal Clear" is one of those rekkids you'll be enticed back to over and over while you try - in vain - to work out what the hell is going on with this pair.
Let's try to establish a few sketchy facts. The Fiery Furnaces are basically a duo: the brother (Matt), who deals with a lot of the music, while the sister (Eleanor) sings in a voice seemingly way too nomal to be relating the bizarre shit and oddball hooklines she likes to dispense at will. They're based in New York, yet hail from Chicago (of Anglo-American parentage) but even bearing in mind that they're from the city responsible for talent as diverse as The Handsome Family, Smog, Wilco, Tortoise and Chris Mills doesn't prepare you for the fizzing barrage of ideas they cram in here.
The title track kicks off and almost lulls you into thinking they could be a mutant pop act, as it's foundation of Motown-y bassline and marching drums is instantly catchy. On top of this, Eleanor relates a tale of a real/ virtual road trip, while occasional pianos tinkle in and out of focus and finally overheating guitars and huge, controlled chaos Keith Moon-style drums slide in. Finally, it falls away just as you want it to keep going. Short, delicious and rife with possibility just about sums it up.
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But then the weirdness really engulfs you. "Cousin Chris" is a drunken and slightly sinister piano waltz with the pair pulling off a kooked duet before a "Sgt.Pepper"-style horn break, splashes of momentous drumming and eventually what sounds suspiciously like a sitar enters the fray. It's cool, though - he says, guardedly.
But even this is nothing compared with final tune "Smelling Cigarettes." If the title nonplusses you, wait til you catch the track itself. Again it's initially a piano-based ballad and features the immortal couplet: "Again things are hoppin', and my unemployment's stoppin'" before going through a whole lotta changes, taking in all from ecstatic, organ-led Beach Boys pop to distant, curling mellotrons and Arabesques before coming out the other end to marry the seductive chorus: "I'm gonna pack up your eyes with sand" with catchy guitar chords and metronomic finger clicks. I haven't a shagging clue what it means, but it's top fun being confounded by it all.
Fabulously, The Fiery Furnaces have an album called "Gallowsbird's Bark" out come the tail end of September. You can rest assured we'll be on the case there too - once we've tracked down the right drugs. For now, make sure you search for "Crystal Clear", though: the heiroglyphics are as clear as mud, but deciphering them's half the fun. Cool confusion: you can't beat it.
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