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Fat Dog: Woof review – a boisterous debut with more bark than bite
Outlandish musical choices from oompah to sleaze should make the Londoners’ debut feel fresh, but they’re the latest interlopers in a crowded experimental field
Fat Dog’s mix of dance-punk, oompah music and dadaist lyrics sounds plenty fresh on paper until you realise that various strands of that DNA have been gaining steam culturally for a while. The London band’s boisterous debut album, Woof, arrives at the end of a summer that saw Kesha release the antagonistic klezmer-pop internet hit Joyride; flamboyant NYC dance-punk revivalists Model/Actriz tear through the festival circuit; and their scene compatriot the Dare get a career boost via prime placement on Charli xcx’s Brat. The flailing rhythms of Running and Wither feel like they were – effectively – designed with a 2am festival set in mind, much like the scream of “It’s fucking Fat Dog, baby!” on opener Vigilante, a few moments before they break into a groove so sleazy it would make Terry Richardson blush.
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