Fuck the Facts is, right off the bat, just the best band name ever. The end.

Musically, the band dwells in a grindcore geography, but is not of a grindcore geography. They are more akin to Today is the Day than Pig Destroyer or Napalm Death, and the point of each song is not to simply flay you with ferocity, but almost to confuse you into following them wherever they want to take you. Mind, they are taking you someplace heavy and groovy, but not always particularly grindy.  And that is just ace by me.

If you have not heard the band before, you might find it easy to lump them into the angry noise metal category and not think about them much more than that. But as this record progresses that lump becomes a tumor, metastasizing into a thorough metal experience before ultimately killing you, disconnecting from your corpse, and crawling out into the world to become an ironic plague on short attention spanned metalheads everywhere. Fuck the Facts can shave steel with the best, but they can also rock and roll and even dank Sabbathic when they want to. They don’t overuse any of their deviations, so the experience is always fresh, more so because they commit to the deviation when they choose it.

Vocal duties are held by the desperately lunatic Melanie Mongeon and the gruffly antagonistic Marc Bourgon, who also plays a distorted antagonistic bass. They weave into and out of each other’s way, giving the songs a frantic texture befitting the anti-niche songwriting. The riffs are forever developing and morphing, refreshing the movement of the music as songs progress. The drumming is by turns hard-core frantic and death-metal steady, never getting the way, but always complimenting. The guitar tone is organic, more than effected, giving the band a standing-in-the-front-row feel. The solos are tasteful and musical.

The songs themselves turn on a dime, gather and dissipate momentum, and drag your head into a bang with or without your approval, just to leave you off-beat and lonely in the next measure. “The Path of Most Resistance” starts off with a classic feeling stomp, pulls a jazzed timing signature switchup and then blasts-n-boogies through the rest of the tune. “Prey” sets off with a giant riff, then machine-guns and charges drunkenly until turning a groovy corner and crashing face first into a stone wall of ugly, simple chords. At every point the band seems to be laughing at any attempt to pin it down – and getting away with it – because the songs fucking slay. These are Metal veterans, and the know how to wage war on your expectations and esthetics.

Grindcore lovers will appreciate the ferocity. Death Metalheads will enjoy the grooves, and general metal fans can revel in the fearlessness of the songwriting. I can think of no reason for the extreme metal aficionado not to own Desire Will Rot.

[Visit the band's website]

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