If Foot Village were ACTUALLY a village they would be located on the outskirts of the drive-by/through generation, erecting tusk monuments of convenient chimerical gods, setting fires to forgotten draw-bridge promotions and sanding down power-lines with their unwieldy facial hair. Their 10" effort World Fantasy gives testament to their tethered primacy, and may be the inaugural document of a forthcoming revisionary torrent, an inclination towards the archaic, (comes in a big silkscreened box with branches and shit - suitable for trying to curl up into). You will find that there is no electricity on this recording, although the brutality of the sounds themselves would suggest otherwise. The only explanation i would have for this is that they play sooooo fucking hard. The main instrumentation here is percussion, played as if teasing a knot of wool into freedom - a combination of rhythmic histrionics and cataracts of chafing abandon. At times their percussive discharge is so enveloping you convince yourself that you're running down one of Conrad Rooks' flashbacks with an om candle and the devil's compass as a plot. Pared off with some frantic chanting/ pleading/ general vocal commotion. It all kind of reminds me of the archival Angus Maclise material in its antiquated celestial tumult, or maybe of Tico Puta's Lark Harmonica in its pooker loud anti-electricity sensibility.
Yes, I have a feeling this "Foot Village" is going to be huge. 10/10 -- Andrew Zukerman (5 September, 2005)