When the whole mishmash works ("Fuel My Fire," "Mindfields," the chanted section of "Climbatize"), it's scary. When it doesn't ("Funky Shit"), it just feels like a slightly ornerier brand of the filler that drags down too many electronica recordings.
But I'm partial to Fat of the Land for at least two reasons that go beyond its musical merits. For one thing, while listening to it, you don't have to see Keith Flint's idiotic, pseudodemonic video leer. And, more important, this CD is loud and virulent enough to drown out any media hype for at least 56 minutes.