The Fucking Champs are happily shambolic on V, mixing epic chugging guitars with doses of gentle synthesizer washes and keyboard melodies. If they can't decide if they want to be Megadeth or Moroder, it only makes their songs all the more fun. The swirl and bombast of guitars bring to mind images of muscle cars and drag races, Transformers rolling out, and cheesy 1980s heavy metal posters. Whether they're dabbling in progressive pretension on the "Never Enough Neck" suite, incorporating medieval melodies into their guitar ...
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The Fucking Champs are happily shambolic on V, mixing epic chugging guitars with doses of gentle synthesizer washes and keyboard melodies. If they can't decide if they want to be Megadeth or Moroder, it only makes their songs all the more fun. The swirl and bombast of guitars bring to mind images of muscle cars and drag races, Transformers rolling out, and cheesy 1980s heavy metal posters. Whether they're dabbling in progressive pretension on the "Never Enough Neck" suite, incorporating medieval melodies into their guitar crunch, or painting somber emotional soundscapes worthy of Vangelis on "Children Perceive the Hoax Cluster," the band always seems honest and dedicated in their quest for dynamic arrangements and sonic textures. The Bach ode "Air on a G-String" would seem hopelessly ridiculous coming from the guitars of less-accomplished musicians. V is a great ride, full of forceful aggression, action-packed, and always playful and warm. How the Fucking Champs can rock out with such monumental ferocity while still seeming warm and cuddly seems like a minor mystery, but the success of their art is a testament to their abilities and originality. ~ Tim DiGravina, Rovi
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