On the Jovial Ferocity of Future of the Left

Mei Lewis

Falco settles a disagreement with his bandmates.

Mei Lewis

His bandmates settle a disagreement with Falco.

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More About

• Recent Falco
• Kelson Mathias
• Falco Falkous
• Cardiff
• Coney Island

Let's reiterate that neither Falco nor his band are quite as unremittingly hostile as they might seem: As a listener, you vacillate between worrying that you're laughing when you should be quaking in fear, or vice versa, but that would be taking this all a bit too seriously, maybe. "I don't think that we're terrifying," he says. "Our music has a certain anger, but to me—speaking personally—to me, it's an energy as opposed to anger as such. Obviously, there are things that make me angry, but I'm not, unless someone deliberately invites my ire, I'm not a particularly angry person. Playing live for me isn't a catharsis, a change to get out my demons. It's a joy."

The guy onstage Sunday night at tiny Williamsburg club Spike Hill—the severe gentleman with a scythe-sharp widow's peak who's bashing his guitar and screaming all sorts of uncouth unpleasantries—does not seem joyful in the traditional sense. But Future of the Left are nonetheless thoroughly enjoying themselves, their demonic aggression offset by smirking between-song banter about Michael Jackson, the venue's apparent fish-smell, and some overzealous fans in the front row ("Look at you freaky little bitches dancing," Falco observes. "It's like a Red Hot Chili Peppers show"). Climactically, Mathias jumps down into the crowd with his bass to grab a few hats and steal a few beers, while Falco twirls his guitar around by the strap. They can switch instantly from playing around to not playing around at all. The set peaks, of course, with "You Need Satan More Than He Needs You," featuring a throat-shredding climactic chant of "It doesn't look like a man/It doesn't talk like a man/But does it fuck like a man?/But does it fuck like a man?" There is no need to elaborate.