Written by Spike Sidor

FAWN

Foxtails Fawn Review Album Cover

FOXTAILS

2022 SCREAMO (WITH STRINGS)

Fawn is the fourth full length release from sophisticated screamo stalwarts Foxtails. Screamo is a funny genre, maybe the most misunderstood. Subject to ill informed mockery at every turn. I think we all have heard people mislabel any rock with harsh vocals as screamo, but mislabel is the wrong word. For them screamo is a slur, only to be used when faced with music they don’t understand nor have the artistic empathy to let be. Its use is brought to you by the folks who say anything harder than Led Zeppelin is noise, closely related to the people who think their kid nephew could make a Franz Kline. Ignorance is an ugly thing but maybe the preaching of enough critics along with a healthy dose of shaming will help them at least reach a state of respect, though I doubt it.

Foxtails may be a good introduction. When I think of the genre I think of chaotic compositions, walls of discordant guitars, and it’s caustic namesake. The band is still brutal as you would expect but their edges are softer than their contemporaries. This starts with the recording quality, which is good, giving space for all the players to do their thing and not suffocate the audience, this may not seem not unusual but there are countless acts that sound like they are recorded in an old row home basement on a tape recorder. More obviously are the strings, loads of violin, or maybe viola. Don’t be alarmed, there is nothing regal about them, the word here is tormented. Fawn is refreshing, cutting, makes you want to mess stuff up, but in a rip-all-your-hair-out-then-tear-down-the-pillars-of-an-unjust-society kind of way. 

As with many great tragedies we begin with death, in this case ego death. A slow punishing riff is the hook that quickly passes the baton to their signature strings who paint the outskirts of the more traditional mix with their plaintive cries. On the topic of cries there are the vocals, a constant, and constantly incredible. The transition from cleans to scream and the pained in betweens feel so natural. Its not performance for the sake of it, it’s the very real pangs of a fucked existence. Opening with contemplative bass is star-crossed; a showcase of the terse poetry that blankets the record. 

Force fed punishments
Tastes of contempt
Deafened by torment
I play pretend
Lies as lullabies

Short and sweet is ataque de nervios, collapsing in despair and exploding in rage at a moment’s notice. The rhythm when the guitars kick into gear is intoxicating, making every verse catchy as hell. Spitting line after line in a basic rhyming scheme that always satisfies, hard not to love lines like poster child for silent intensity. Gazelle is another piece of terrific songwriting with a brief but bold foray into cacophony that sonically approaches black metal that transitions seamlessly to a gentle simmer of screams and cleans. Even bolder to sample the unmistakable articulations of James Baldwin on the peculiar all lower-case bbq, but his thoughts on the rage of the unequal compliment the lyrics well. Baldwin warns against self-destruction through anger, I don’t know if the band is at that point but their blood is filled with enough fury to feel close and who could blame them.

Gallons of spiders wet flying thru the stratosphere, no that’s not a randomly generated sentence that’s the next track. It’s thoroughly fine with bass that trudges along like malcontent boots on a city sidewalk but a lot of it gets lost amongst the garbled vocals. So it goes is precisely what the album needed and precisely what you think it sounds like. A dejected interlude of violin and piano that provides a breather from the emotional shelling. It has the feeling of staring into your lap with your hand on your forehead, slumping further into cheap furniture. The beginning bits of space orphan are marked with a somber moodiness that rapidly evolves into anxiety, it’s got the feeling of a shitty day that becomes more mentally arduous as it goes. The storytelling matches with visions of interpersonal failings, a brain running tortuous laps, endlessly evaluating regret.  

Blindsided and tongue tied
Begged for a voice all my life
And it locked itself in my eyes
Every single time

Life is a death scene, princess is what you’ve come to expect thus far and it excels in all categories, evocative performances, terrifying tension, nasty instrumentals, love it. The intense ending is a highlight, there is not much better in this world then a really good scream. Woeful strings choke back tears on the post-rock-esque Catalyst. Their usual rapid fire anguish is taken back just a step and although sparse the viscous cascade of blows do arrive, but they hit differently in the melancholic murk. Part way through La belle indifférence it feels alright, exemplifying the dueling acts of terror and beauty but near its conclusion the leads are joined by awful shouted group style vocals that sound so fake in the worst way. Standing out from the rest of the mix with a stiff tackiness that turns my stomach. It’s one of those things that sticks out so badly it’s hard to get past. For the closer I was anticipating the final exasperated throws of a band with body and mind drained from these terrible labors but no, paper tiger is the most ferocious and the best of the listing. 

Wolf in sheep’s skin
So easily forgiven
Face the damages
I have no use for bandages

Incredibly catchy from top to bottom, stinging vocal repetitions and guitar all. On Fawn Foxtails are leading the way for an underappreciated genre and they do so holding the mic with a death grip as their knees shake to let out another desperate howl. The main faults are there are songs that are good, not excellent and on the whole it’s a bit one note, not exactly harsh criticism. Credit to their immediacy. You can’t help but feel the lows and suffer their tribulations with them; clutching a fist so tight your fingernails dig into your skin.

7-8/10

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