In case the name didn’t give it away, Footprints in the Custard are a “comedy” metal act. Thus they join the “hilarious” ranks of, erm, Lawnmower Deth, Sliced Pimples and Psychostick. Way to set your standards high, guys. Psychostick are one band the ‘Prints have shared a stage with and who didn’t tell them to “fuck off”, apparently. I, like them, take this to be a good sign.
The Descent of Decency is far from their first release – something like the fourth – and if the Daily Mail heard about it then it would almost certainly be their last. With songs about masturbatory cramp, being a teenager desperate for “clunge” (fans of The Inbetweeners will understand the term), compassionate cunnilingus, sorcery and nazism (the last two in the same song), you’d be forgiven for thinking that we were dealing with a bunch of virgin nerds. Then you look at one of their videos and all doubt is removed. No amount of mankinis, tutus and squirty cream can hide the desperation.
I so wish I was kidding with that last bit. I’m scarred.
The band don’t only sing about sex. They have a nice line in songs about destruction, partying, getting drunk and twinkle-toed man-eating bears. If that helps you set your mind at ease as regards their sanity. No, didn’t think so.
More gutter level than Lawnmower Deth (I almost feel as if congratulations are deserved for that) and about as politically correct as Kunt and the Gang, I can only assume this is what happens if you’re raised around Manchester. It wouldn’t surprise me. ‘Deth were once described by a journalist as “scum” (it’s on the back of one of their t-shirts). FitC are what scum turns into if you leave it to fester for long enough. Squelchier, smellier and lacking even scum-like levels of wholesomeness.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to turn the volume up to eleven and listen to the album again. For about the thirtieth time since I got it. I am not proud.
The Descent of Decency is available now, if you’re childish enough to think you’d like it.