"More than one member of the band The Sunglasses sports a fading, blue-green, prison-style tattoo of the letters F.I.D. Drummer Ray Fleming wears it on his arm, while the others don them on less visible parts of their bodies. When asked about it, they give each other a shifty look before Fleming sheepishly offers, “It stands for ‘Fuck It Dude.’” While that isn’t necessarily the Atlanta-based band’s philosophy, it’s a credo that drives the brash and arty post-hardcore rhythms of its newly released debut album Bad Happy (Trans Ruin/Dark Wolf Records).
It isn’t easy to describe the sound that Fleming, along with drummer Daniel Deckebach, bass player Zach Rivers and vocalist Josh Lyner have concocted. Songs such as “100 Names,” “Chut Brittany” and “Smoke It” swing wildly between noise rock, grunge and drug-damaged pop, with math rock leanings. “I usually try to come up with the stupidest riff I can think of and morph it into a nasty pop song,” Deckebach explains. By stupid, he means unorthodox. “I can’t really shred on guitar so I’ll think, what sounds really ridiculous and doesn’t make sense with these weird-sounding chords, but then have it tie the whole song together.”" - Chad Radford / Creative Loafing Atlanta
The Sunglasses on Facebook
"Fight Amp hail from West Berlin, New Jersey, and their harsh, unforgiving brand of post-hardcore harks back to the Amphetamine Reptile label's influential ‘90s roster, with additional nods to noise-rock, sludge, punk rock and metal rounding out the picture. Steeped in the hardcore ethic through and through, band members Mike, Jon, Rebecca and Hissem, reject last names out of hand, and recorded several independent singles and mini releases leading up to their full-length debut for Translation Loss Records, 2007's Hungry for Nothing." - Eduardo Rivadavia / All Music
Fight Amp on Facebook
Uh, Some dudes jammed and, lo, a name was picked. The name narrowly squeaked by its nemesis, "meow meow kitty meow". Basements were abandoned. Firesides were abandoned. Raitonality was abandoned. Hope was abandoned about a trillion fukn times, yo. Old Style was adopted. The people on the river were happy to give. Fuckers came and went. Record labels existed and stopped existing. Airplanes were taken. Coolant was spewed, Dodges pushed into the wrong damn country. The "Best in the West" was identified. Teeth stained, bidets full of mail, poo-smelling digs as well. Emceed Meier-like box stores were hung out at. Kevin Seconds's doppelganger went to the Holy Land to fight alongside the Resistance. Two Hairs had a bellyache. Someone's daughter got high with the wrong person, asses were wiped and dyped, as in the case of Buzz. Oh, Canada happened once. Thanks for the grand whole-country-as-North-Dakota thing. Hoo-eee. Spacious. Uhh, Chicago got even more boring. Nobody ever had any money anymore. People slept in uncomfortable places. Again with the alcohol. Heaviness happened, but slowly, over time, like a big roast or a boar on a spit. Everything continued to suck. Studios were chosen out of ignorance. Equipment was sold. One fella left and found other people to leave real fast, too. Shit kept happening. Everyone but us knew that we had ceased to exist. That's when it all came together. Not existing is the best way to jam. Then: when a fella tries to buy his way in he is shown the door. Enough with the bad ideas already.
American Heritage on Facebook
$8, 18+
Doors @ 9 pm
Advance tickets available @ Ticket Alternative, Criminal Records,
Decatur CD, Fantasyland Records and the following CD Warehouse locations: Buford, Duluth, Kennesaw, Lawrenceville and Roswell.
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