A missive aimed at the devastating impact of systemic and widespread oppression, "Fatberg" is a sonic collage. Initially it feels like a blindfolded rollercoaster ride. After regaining balance from its disorienting piece-by-piece construction and hypnotic, adrenalin-inducing drums, listening to "Fatberg" becomes a rigorous exercise in confronting the issues that have led society to the precarious edge of implosion.
'"Fatberg" is a call for unity to all those affected by the oppression of the rich. Those who sleep on the street, to those who barely make ends meet, to those imprisoned by the Orwellian takeover of the once-free internet. Even more, the song circles around the devastating environmental impact of this oppression."
- FAT TROUT TRAILER PARK
FAT TROUT TRAILER PARK (Sean Raab) is a post-punk interpretation of how people in the future would think the past sounds like.
That's what you get when you combine the bare-boned, riff-heavy structure of early-2000s rock and roll and filter it through the kaleidoscopic lens of the 2010s psych revival, and the cut-and-paste approach and visceral impact of experimental electronica and hip-hop.
The forthcoming FAT TROUT TRAILER PARK EP takes influences as diverse as Tame Impala and Death Grips and twists them into an anarchic brawl, sparing few establishment institutions in its incisive critique of modern society.
Economic and environmental violence are both a looming presence on debut single "Fatberg", the initially restrained, then untamed "Gold" and the Television-indebted "Dirty Hands". "Backseat" spirals into the hedonism that follows a episode of depression, a phenomenon recalled on the EP's final track "Wendigo", which swerves through a Jekyll & Hyde narrative that explores bipolarity and the cocktail of disbelief, guilt, regret and relief that follows a bout of mania.
"Salt", the record's sonic outlier, dives even deeper into personal history before resolving to address the FAT TROUT TRAILER PARK EP's overarching theme: 21st century disillusionment.
Reflecting on his conservative religious upbringing in Belgium, Raab cuts a figure wracked with insecurity and fear, as an ASMR-esque vocal pits viciously competing internal voices against one another.
As a collection, these six tracks introduce a self-produced musical polymath and his contribution to the resurgence and re-politicization of guitar-driven music.