Fang Island Fang Island

Fang IslandFang Island
I can't get the image of Animal Collective making babies with Boston out of my head when I listen to Fang Island's self-titled LP. These five exuberant guys from Rhode Island have tempered prog and cock rock with flashes of cathartic ambience, dense group harmonies and blanketed the whole production in a wild-eyed innocence that grounds their stratospheric major key anthems. It's the kind of music that would be a sensible soundtrack to a lightsaber-wielding Jesus riding a rocket-powered unicorn to high-five the moon and shotgun beers with space hobbits before travelling through time to drop acid with a nudist colony from the '70s. Fang Island have honed their musical alchemy to yield a ridiculously infectious brand of stadium rock that feels like it should be blasting around a bonfire the size of the Grand Canyon, populated by teaming throngs of Queen- and Modest Mouse-loving Boston/Animal Collective babies. (Sargent House)