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S​/​T

by Fuckwolf

supported by
Eddie Rifkind
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Iain
Iain thumbnail
csz
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Zerosozha
Zerosozha thumbnail
Max Dickenson
Max Dickenson thumbnail
The I.M.F.
The I.M.F. thumbnail
JHM III
JHM III thumbnail
terryfunku
terryfunku thumbnail
David Smith
David Smith thumbnail
DAVID KARDOS
DAVID KARDOS thumbnail
dvdwalsh
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bonar
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/

  • Compact Disc (CD) + Digital Album

    Fuckwolf's debut full-length album

    Includes unlimited streaming of S/T via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    ships out within 3 days

      $10 USD or more 

     

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.
    Purchasable with gift card

      $7 USD  or more

     

1.
What a Fuck 03:09
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2.
Mardi Gras 04:59
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3.
So What 05:51
lyrics
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So what if you know
4.
White Strokes 02:33
lyrics
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When I get back you'll be toast You'll be spread across seven coasts blah blah blah blah blah blah
5.
Rub-E-Dub-E 03:47
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6.
Afro Cuban 06:45
lyrics
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Don't sell yourself short there, judge You're a tremendous slouch
7.
The Dream 07:41
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about

“ Fuckwolf softens walls of distorted no wave and experimental psych-rock riffage with heavy dub poundings. On its self-titled release for local label Kimosciotic Records (the eclectic indie housing everything from Ezeetiger to Le Flange Du Mal), Fuckwolf melts vocals, bass lines, drums, and bruised guitar melodies into a warm, echo-y stew with an apocalyptic aftertaste.

On Fuckwolf, low-end rhythms dominate, as members Pupdouche, Robert Pap Inch, and Heem slowly add in the sludgy experiments (with an occasional squawking from, say, the improvised sound of jungle creatures). Song titles offer a bit of insight into Fuckwolf's inspirations, from “Mardi Gras” to “Rub-E Dub-E” to “Afro Cuban,” but the center remains murky, the group's influences flattered but its sources of origin artfully out of focus.

Like its local peers, Fuckwolf uses strong currents of reggae reverb to scatter and splatter dance music into something impossible to contain. As the name implies, though, these guys are on the creepier side of the spectrum, with horror-flick snickering and industrial undertones sneaking through the songs. It's music for the mental adventurist, for those times you want to get lost in a demented collective headspace. Words are fairly irrelevant, while hooks get trampled under coils of temperamental feedback. But there's still plenty of forward motion on these tracks, basslines to which you can time that metronome head bob, patterns to which your midsection will swivel, and white noise to fog the outside world away.” - Jennifer Maerz, SF Weekly • 01/10/2007 4:00 am

credits

released September 11, 2006

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Fuckwolf San Francisco, California

“Theirs is a polymorphous din, drawing upon Krautrock, psychedelia, punk and more, but the familiar reference points are manhandled into unexpected new forms; like spiritual forebears Royal Trux and Butthole Surfers, their distorted, distended caricatures of rock hit seams of unlikely brilliance.”
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