Following a series of eccentric, standalone singles that prioritized D.I.Y. experimentation over commercial safety, Fingerprintz finally delivered their debut long-player, The Very Dab (Catalog No: V 2119), in September 1979. Rather than padding the tracklist with previous 7-inch highlights like "Who's Your Friend?", Jimme O'Neill and his crew boldly opted for a completely fresh, 11-song artistic statement. This choice instantly signaled a band with a surplus of ideas, eager to prove they could construct a highly cohesive, cinematic narrative rather than just a collection of brief punk blasts.
Captured with a pristine, punchy clarity, this LP stands as an incredibly sophisticated—yet criminally overlooked—masterpiece of the late-70s British New Wave explosion. It arrived at a hyper-competitive moment in post-punk history, sitting alongside seminal debuts from classmates like Magazine and XTC. Though it missed out on the mainstream chart success of its peers, the album's slick integration of pub-rock grit, paranoid storytelling, and art-school arrangements has secured its legendary status as a foundational, subterranean classic for vinyl purists.
From the opening mechanical throb of "Close Circuit Connection," The Very Dab establishes itself as a masterclass in nervous energy and sharp lyrical wit. The album brilliantly straddles the razor-thin line between jagged post-punk tension and undeniable melodic hooks. Tracks like the self-referential "Fingerprince" and the stuttering "Tempermental" feature angular, interlocking guitars that rival the frantic rhythmic interplay of Talking Heads, while O'Neill’s distinct vocal delivery drips with a cool, spy-thriller detachment that makes every track feel like a transmission from a cold-war surveillance tape.
The true anchor across this frantic ride is the band's formidable, tight rhythm section. Bassist Kenny Alton and drummer Bob Shilling lock into tightly coiled grooves, preventing the staccato guitar lines and frantic tempos from spinning out of control. Instead of letting the music descend into chaotic noise, they ground songs like "Wet Job" in a heavy, physical pulse that forces the listener to move, seamlessly bridging the gap between street-level rock and the expanding boundaries of the underground club scene.
Where the LP truly shines, however, is in its darker, highly structural detours. The off-kilter, shifting meter of "2.A.T." and the ominous, slow-burning crawl of "Invisible Seamz" prove that Fingerprintz were operating far ahead of their contemporary post-punk peers. They refused to be boxed into simplistic genre labels, using the studio space to throw in unexpected audio panning, sudden dynamic shifts, and eerie vocal echoes to keep the listener perpetually off-balance.
Ultimately, The Very Dab is a deeply rewarding debut that demands deep headphone listening to fully appreciate its intricate arrangements. Slinky, driving cuts like "Tough Luck" and the epic, sci-fi-tinged finale "Beam Me Up Scotty" show a band capable of writing airtight hooks without sacrificing an ounce of their subversive, avant-garde edge. It maintains a relentless, high-wire sonic momentum from the first needle drop to the final fade, cementing it as an essential, high-water mark of 1979.
Ripped to MP3
Side A:
A1: Close Circuit Connection (2:55)
A2: Fingerprince (3:07)
A3: Wet Job (3:55)
A4: Punchy Judy (1:45)
A5: Tempermental (2:07)
A6: 2.A.T. (3:43)
Side B:
B1: Hey Mr. Smith (2:43)
B2: Tough Luck (2:47)
B3: Invisible Seamz (4:33)
B4: On the Hop (1:41)
B5: Beam Me Up Scotty (5:18)
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