These New York pranksters have managed to slam together an album which is both euphoric and life-affirming; the type of album that not only re-teaches you how to enjoy feel-good music, but which also re-teaches you how to enjoy a feel-good life.

FOR SEVERAL YEARS SINCE ITS DISCOVERY through a friend, the Onion news has become a hallowed mainstay in my daily activities. Typically between the hours of 14:30 and 16 sharp, when the post-lunch carb-coma starts kicking in, the Onion will weasel its way onto my desktop and into my work schedule, providing a much needed dose of levity between the many inane reports and files. (Personally, I recommend it be prescribed to and by all employers, though I doubt this will catch on.) More to the point though, one Onion article in particular has proven particularly life changing for me and most of the indie music world.

The article was released on March 17, 2004, describing the plans of then U.S. Secretary of Defense Donald Rumsfeld to host a No-Holds-Barred Martial Arts Tournament (not unlike that demonstrated in the classic movie, video game and all-round worldwide phenomenon, Mortal Kombat) at his remote fortress on the mysterious Fang Island. Though shy and modest in its comedic strokes, this poetic little report caught the attention of one budding Brooklyn indie band whose members were inspired by its whimsical conception of secret island lairs in which wacky, epic misadventures could be staged. And thus the chronicles of indie pop magicians, Fang Island, began.

Basically everything about these guys, not unlike the Onion news itself, is one big joke (I think); though equally similar to another of this generation’s satirical wizards, Steven Colbert, it’s hard to tell if they’re bullshitting you the whole time or not. Beyond their description of their own aesthetic as ‘everyone high-fiving everyone’, their well publicized free concerts in kindergarten classrooms and their outrageous acid-tripping music videos, the songs themselves play like a goddamn fourth of July party. Seriously, album opener, ‘Dream of Dreams’ actually opens with fireworks! (F***ing fireworks!) This is of course right before jubilant chants kick in, shouting, “They are all within my reach/ they are free!”, like an elated nine year old who just saw WALL-E for the first time. If you can’t already tell, I’ve got a lot of time for these guys.

Still, if their ‘high-fiving’ self-description isn’t satisfactory for all you music snob douches out there (of which this publication hosts many) then I’ll sharpen my gaze a bit: Fang Island, the album, channels the type of ‘Party Hard’, dick-wagging moxie that Andrew W.K. would if he traded in his mullet for a Renaissance wig and spent more time with Win Butler listening to old Queen LPs. First single, ‘Daisy’, sounds like a ridiculous fusion of indie pop quirk, crashing Bohemian Rhapsody guitar licks and Mufasa-driven chants from The Lion King OST, for a rousing, jubilant feel-good romp that closes with the telling reproach of yuppie cynics: “Don’t matter what, you will find, on the way to find it/I take my eyes, off the prize, it never was there/Your ideas stick, in the mud, like the trees they are.” Forget the mud though, this jam’ll be stuck in your head for weeks after the first listen!

Perhaps most surprising, however, is the fact that most of the punchlines on the album don’t come from lyrics but from the riffs themselves. In fact, true to honest post-punk form, most of the songs have very few lyrics, if any. ‘Careful Crossers’, for instance, which directly follows album opener ‘Dream of Dreams’ is almost three minutes of shucking and jiving power chords that jump around like a new puppy who just found his master’s Snickers stash. The only difference is that the song doesn’t die in the end, so much as explode into the above-mentioned ‘Daisy’. Similarly, the mostly word-less victory lap of ‘Sideswipers’ seems as if it would only be complete played alongside videos of Optimus Prime round-housing Megatron into a volcano. Oh, and its homage to John Cougar Mellencamp’s ‘Jack and Diane’ makes the original sound like a slow jam by Bryant Gumbel.

All in all, these New York pranksters have managed to slam together an album which is both euphoric and life-affirming; the type of album that not only re-teaches you how to enjoy feel-good music, but which also re-teaches you how to enjoy a feel-good life. As already suggested above, their infectious anthems evoke archetypical images of triumph and victory: Maverick running flybys with Goose; Frank the Tank ‘doing one more’; Gandalf mowing down an entire army of Orcs in an M1 Abrams tank. God dammit, these guys know how to party and we should consider ourselves f***ing honoured to be invited along for the ride!

I think it’s safe to say that Fang Island, which was voted the #1 most buzzed about band at last March’s SXSW music festival, and whose album is apparently in contention for ‘Best Debut of the Year’, will become a mainstay soundtrack for any keg party, Mortal Kombat tournament/re-creation, or fireworks spectacle this summer. Furthermore, I can sleep easy now, knowing that even if my bosses one day block the Onion news due to abuse and indiscriminate time mismanagement, I’ll still have the Fang on my ipod to bring that special ray of retardedly bright sunlight into an otherwise prizeless workday.

87/100