Band: Tropical Fuck Storm | Album: Fairyland Codex | Genre: Art punk, Experimental rock | Year: 2025
From: Melbourne, Australia | Label: Fire Records
For fans of: Squid, black midi, Cardiacs, Fuzz
Tropical Fuck Storm is an Australian quartet that has been around since 2017, but I ran across them only recently. Their style is a little tough to define, but I think the genre tags I used above are pretty accurate. Maybe I could have tossed in “noise rock,” but I think that gets the point across. While not particularly “proggy” in the sense that they don’t ape the sounds of the 1970s or perform extended suites, their style is innovative and forward-thinking. They’re a genuine breath of fresh air in the rock world.
Fairyland Codex is the band’s fourth full-length release, and it might just be their best yet. The sound palette is diverse yet unified, and the band is able to weave in earworm melodies amidst supremely chaotic passages.
The album opens with the buzzy, lurching “Irukandji Syndrome”. Words are half-spoken, half-sung, and the rhythm both rolls and stutters. Male and female vocals weave together at points. The song is great at cultivating a sense of unease and discomfort, and the strange, abstract lyrics add to that feeling. The guitar solo near the song’s end quickly dissolves into an overwhelming wall of fuzz, static, and noise–a strong capstone to this cut.
“Goon Show”, in contrast, is a bit slower. It trudges heavily and is underscored with a bass tone that is somehow both saturated to death and tight and restricted. Female vocals again provide some light counterbalance to primary vocalist Gareth Liddiard’s gruff utterances. That plodding rhythm persists through the whole piece, but things again become loud, noisy, and almost too much to handle during instrumental passages.
The tempo remains restrained on “Stepping on a Rake”. But where the first two songs on this album had a certain chunkiness and bluntness, this song is TFS attempting to be delicate. The guitar and bass still have that juicy, compressed sound to them, but the playing is sparse enough that it works.
“Teeth Marché” is groovy and funky and features one of the band’s female members on lead vocals. This cut reminds me of Mother’s Cake if that band slowed things down a bit. Guitars twang and buzz oddly as the rhythm section casually meanders along. The mood becomes more crazed and desperate as the song progresses, but that underlying funkiness persists, especially in the chorus. Everything else is pretty odd and noisy.
The album’s title track is its longest. It’s slow and acoustic, and an obvious break with everything that led up to it. The contemplative and downcast mood is occasionally punctuated by sharp moments of chaos, and the song’s second half features some upward, optimistic-sounding music, despite the rather grim lyrics. This almost sounds like some kind of alternate-universe Bob Dylan cut at moments.
“Dunning Kruger’s Loser Cruiser” has a drunken, shambolic feel to it. Liddiard’s vocals are crazed, slurred, and barely-comprehensible (insert lazy joke about Australians). There’s a bizarre, inexplicable catchiness here. The music jumps around and stumbles in carefully-orchestrated chaos. Touches of the Talking Heads and ‘80s King Crimson are evident, but there are also hints of early ‘00s garage rock amid the more bizarre rhythmic and melodic elements.
“Bloodsport” is jumpy, with ragged guitar chords slashing across a buzzing, galloping background. And “Joe Meek Will Inherit the Earth” is (relatively) mellow and jazzy. It features some great accents of overdriven electric piano, as well as an alluring rhythm.
“Bye Bye Snake Eyes” brings back the acoustic guitars, and this may be my favorite song on the album. It’s almost like if you filtered a Neil Young song through a black midi filter, if that makes sense. The melody is engaging and memorable, and violin adds some lovely brightness. But there’s an undeniably modern feel to this, and little flourishes and accents speak to this band’s experimental tendencies.
The record wraps up on “Moscovium”. It starts off slow and minimal. It almost reminds me of some of the slower cuts on Amputechture. The music often teeters on a fine line between outright spookiness and surprisingly warm. About two minutes in, though, it explodes into fuzzed-out fury for a moment before retreating. Though rather sudden and almost jarring, it works perfectly.
Fairyland Codex is a noisy, chaotic album that often verges on being sonically overwhelming. Tropical Fuck Storm, though, know to throw in adequate breathing room and rest time. The contrasts on this album are striking, and despite its diversity, everything holds together great.
Score: 89/100
The Elite Extremophile 