Home
Savoir Faire: The Best of Family Fodder
Barnes and Noble
Savoir Faire: The Best of Family Fodder
Current price: $24.99
Barnes and Noble
Savoir Faire: The Best of Family Fodder
Current price: $24.99
Size: OS
Loading Inventory...
*Product information may vary - to confirm product availability, pricing, shipping and return information please contact Barnes and Noble
Family Fodder
released two extremely obscure but oddly delightful albums in the early '80s,
Monkey Banana Kitchen
and
All Styles
. With the blessing of the loose-knit London-based group's leader (and sole constant member),
Alig Pearce
, the New York indie
Dark Beloved Cloud
gathered the best of those two discs, plus some singles and previously unreleased tracks, onto the 16-track
Savoir Faire: The Best of Family Fodder
. Kicking off with the title track, a brilliant organ-based
pop
song with bilingual verses sung by
Dominique Levillain
, the album proceeds to try to encapsulate this collective's curiously wide-ranging pursuits (that album wasn't called
for nothing), but ends up sticking mostly to the group's quirky
songs rather than its
dub
or
musique concrete
experiments. Of course, it takes a certain artistic fearlessness to cover
Blondie
(a weird and ultimately unsuccessful deconstruction of
"Sunday Girl"
with coy electronically processed vocals and a middle eight sung by a child),
Franz Schubert
, and
Erik Satie
(done inna
reggae
stylee, yet) on the same album. ~ Stewart Mason
released two extremely obscure but oddly delightful albums in the early '80s,
Monkey Banana Kitchen
and
All Styles
. With the blessing of the loose-knit London-based group's leader (and sole constant member),
Alig Pearce
, the New York indie
Dark Beloved Cloud
gathered the best of those two discs, plus some singles and previously unreleased tracks, onto the 16-track
Savoir Faire: The Best of Family Fodder
. Kicking off with the title track, a brilliant organ-based
pop
song with bilingual verses sung by
Dominique Levillain
, the album proceeds to try to encapsulate this collective's curiously wide-ranging pursuits (that album wasn't called
for nothing), but ends up sticking mostly to the group's quirky
songs rather than its
dub
or
musique concrete
experiments. Of course, it takes a certain artistic fearlessness to cover
Blondie
(a weird and ultimately unsuccessful deconstruction of
"Sunday Girl"
with coy electronically processed vocals and a middle eight sung by a child),
Franz Schubert
, and
Erik Satie
(done inna
reggae
stylee, yet) on the same album. ~ Stewart Mason