514e55_4f8467d7163045cba44606b6d23c2f6c.png_srz_p_387_387_75_22_0.50_1.20_0-1-300x300Musical fusion is how the art form moves on, evolves into interesting new genres and stays fresh. One of the most naturally effortless combinations I have always thought is folk and punk music. The former developed out of the trials and tribulations of the working man, a way of expressing himself, telling stories and documenting his life and times in the pre-televisual age. The latter, pretty much the same, though driven by the desires and angst of Bowery lowlifes and London art school dropouts, but remaining the perfect receptacle for the primal howl of the man in the street.


Foxes Faux take the best aspects of both these worlds and dovetail them together to combine consummate musicianship with vim and vigour; like being hit with a Queen Anne chair leg, you have just enough time to appreciate the exquisite craftsmanship but its still going to knock the wind out of you. Less aggressive than the tattooed, paddy punk that seems to rule the roost at the moment (although that image may be coloured by the fact that I am writing this a few days after St Patrick’s day) yet less pastoral than the rural traditionalists so beloved of the folk police, this band is the perfect combination. Imagine the Oysterband on speed or Gogol Bordello if they were inspired by the Yorkshire landscape.


They get the mix just right, enough gypsy vibes to give them an exotic edge, folky enough for you to be able to appreciate the melody and craftsmanship that goes into each song and punked out enough to get the party started at the strike of the first chord. It’s the perfect sonic blend of traditional and iconoclastic, power and passion, folk and folkin hell!

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