As per it's ludicrously warm within thus the globules and droplets of lukewarm rain soon slide from sodden facial bristle and flung out early to push both tempo and temperature is opener I Wanna Touch Your Hand. A hunk of fuzzy euphoria equally suited to this subterraneous cavern as it would seemingly be to excessively vast stadia, it's a heartwarming introduction to a show that is – albeit subtly – rather revitalising. That's not to say that Fanzine are ploughing furrows unblemished by the mechanised hand of the human; far from it. Their sonic aesthetic recalls Yuck and before them Weezer and before them Mudhoney and somewhere in amongst all that, occasionally, Fountains of Wayne. In back-to-front baseball caps, beanies and smoky lumberjack threads the imagery conjured is as infused with a glamorised Americanisation as the songs themselves although when they're as irresistibly engaging as Roman Holiday is in this swanky(ish) cesspit the Hooters tees merely serve to convincingly augment the unabashedly transatlantic vibes transmitted from over yonder throughout the formative years of the '90s.
The sprightly melancholy of Best Fit Recordings debut L.A. comes across as the sort of prickly anthem to soundtrack the isolated upbringing of scruff-haired, scuff-heeled blighters beyond the pond although it's Kissing and the segueing Rocket Fuel into which it slithers that combine to become Fanzine's sprawling opus; their Only In Dreams as it were. And a daydreamy affair said brace is too: "I'm going down to the chamber of danger tonight" lead vocalist Jock softly avers, his shadow casting the figure of Robert Smith circa Boys Don't Cry on the murky wall beyond. The CAMP basement could indeed be analogised to this so-called "chamber of danger" and as he compellingly, almost postcoitally exhales: "I'm so tired" on the latter, given its expansive flourishes it's barely surprising. "Enjoy Oberhofer – they soundchecked for long enough" Jock coyly, if wholly astutely pronounces and irrespective of the diversion derived from tonight's Tacoma headliners, there's a whole loada fun within the frayed-edge Fanzine with the freely Americanised content.
