Fang Island's latest album both begins and ends with the sound of fireworks going off. Never in the history of music has an album had a more fitting preamble and epilogue.
Fang Island is, hands down, the most fun rock and roll to come out since Andrew W.K.'s I Get Wet forced us to party back in 2001. Until some manner of audio-controlled force-feedback vibrating codpiece is invented by science pervs, no album can offer the same level of satisfaction.
Listening to Fang Island is like eating a giant, mixing-bowl size serving of the most decadent ice cream conceived by man. No indulgence is spared, no whim not exercised. This record is everything that your 15-year-old mind wanted in rock music: guitar solos so intricate and catchy that they could be used to wrangle and tame dinosaurs, and drums played at speeds so blazing that they could only be preformed by some kind of human-robot hybrid from the future, returning to our own time to teach us how to love.
Fang Island sounds like a metal band that decided to play the entire score to a fictional Sega Genesis game that I wish existed. Never before have guitars and keyboards come together so beautifully to slam-fuck your ears.
Seriously, I cannot stress enough how much of a pants-shedding good time this album is. If you are at all, in any way, a fan of upbeat music overflowing with positive energy, this record is a must-buy.
Did you ever like pro wrestling? Ever? Did you ever want to be a firetruck or a spaceship when you grew up? Do you like roller coasters, summer time, playing Wiffle Ball or jumping off a high ledge onto a trampoline, only to bounce into a big warm lake with all of your friends from grade school? If the answer is yes to any of these questions, Fang Island is required listening.
Do you like the technical skill of DragonForce but wish they didn't play speed-metal about J.R.R. Tolkien? Do you wish your pop-punk had a few more guitar solos? Fang Island, my man, Fang Island.
Detractors will detract. Cynical, negative shit-mouths will say it is too lighthearted. Attention-deficit speed-freaks will bemoan the lack of traditional lyrics and vocal delivery, as Fang Island chooses to use group vocals and prefer to let its message live in its music rather than what some frontman spouts. Fuck those people; they clearly have given up the better part of themselves a long time ago.
Fang Island is a time machine, weather machine and Prozac pill all in one. It will take you to a better, warmer, happier place as long as you are willing to keep up and let your seriousness go for a half-hour or so.
If you are ever lonely, sad, friendless or bummed, this album can save you, pull you out of it, make it seem like a cheering audience is waiting just behind your stereo to hug you, pick you up, keep you going.
The last song putters away into fireworks. The first one picks up with the same. Clearly, this is an album meant to be listened to on repeat. There is no reason not to. Fang Island forever.