Fire Engines were barely a blip on the music radar, but
for those in the right place at the right time, that small speck was like a
bull's-eye. By 1980, Scotland's post-punk Postcard explosion was already in
full bloom, having birthed Orange Juice and Josef K. Right in there with them
were Fire Engines, but unlike their erstwhile peers, the short-lived group
existed to burn bright and fast and, inevitably, to burn out. It's music of the
primitive "we-can-do-it-too" school, and as such some 38 45 years or so
later it's easy to understand the impact it had on other aspiring bands.
Indeed, Hungry Beat, a
collection of the groups’ formative releases, arrives with testimonials from
Primal Scream's Bobby Gillespie and Franz Ferdinand front man Alex Kapranos,
whose band recently coaxed Fire Engines into the studio and back onto the
stage. While Primal Scream and Franz Ferdinand are quite different from one
another, one can see the respective appeal of Fire Engines' sound. In the case
of the former and fellow fans the Jesus and Mary Chain, its ragged chaos
certainly resonated. In the case of the latter, it was the high-strung naff
funk undercurrent that probably connected first.
But even if taken on its own terms, Hungry Beat is a shambling blast,
as exciting as its members were clearly excitable. The disc collects the
group's entire first and sole album (the perfectly named Lubricate Your Living Room), the
A's and B's from Fire Engines' three singles, and a handful of alternate takes.
The last are perhaps a funny inclusion, considering how little Fire Engines
sound like the kind of band that bothered with such niceties as
"takes." At any given second, each song sounds like it's either about
to fall apart or explode, and you can practically hear the band smiling at the
prospect.
"Candyskin" and "New Thing in
Cartons" sound like the Fall having a happy day, the massed vocals and
strings of the former a novel method of overcoming the song's lo-fi
environment. "Meat Whiplash" goes absolutely nowhere and does a great
job doing it. "Get Up and Use Me" (covered by Franz Ferdinand on the
split they later shared with Fire Engines) is all adenoidal no wave cowbell
skronk, replete with unembarrassed false start (mysteriously, the song's
alternate take runs longer, faster, and doesn't include the fuck-up).
It's "Big Gold Dream" that plays up the jittery
dance elements that you can hear in half of indiedom (even if most of indiedom
has never heard these guys before), but the apex of Hungry
Beat is a seven-minute ditty called "Discord" that offers
a relentless one-chord funk fix. The song fades out with a few drums fills and
screams, but you can just as easily imagine another 10, 20, 30 minutes of music
not captured on tape. At seven minutes it's long enough to lock into a groove,
but one can only imagine the dance floor possibilities had the thing got
longer.
