Local Wire

Fake Snake: I'm Drawn To That Insane Kind of Sound

Screeches cycle through the drone and reverberate off the cratered concrete walls of [venue name redacted] as Fake Snake frantically claws through their set. We're out among the dilapidated shitholes of Phoenix's industrial parks, inside this warehouse shed doubling as crashpad and venue for several underground acts. Here, the Phoenix post-industrial trio fits in nicely with a small but entranced collective of weirdos who flock to this kind of noxious, somehow rhythmic experimental noise. The drilling and the pounding and the screaming is far more titillating than agitating once you get it in the right context - and a garage down the street from a mechanic's office gives everything just the right echo.

Hard to justify to an audience of twenty-something hipsters used to Phantogram clones, too dainty to mosh and too unversed in primal rage. But in its own way, the aggression is kind of beautiful.

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Troy Farah is an independent journalist and documentary field producer. He has worked with VICE, Fusion, LA Weekly, Golf Digest, BNN, Tucson Weekly, and Phoenix New Times.
Contact: Troy Farah