FFFH

FFFH (Fist Fuckers From Hell) were formed back in 1987, when the songs made it out of a ruddy house on Barger Street, in Blacksburg, Virginia. There weren’t any tuners around, so the guitars were tuned to an old upright piano. The songs on the record were recorded on a thrift store treasure, back then: an oversized boom box, chipped corners and missing knobs. But it worked. The songs made their way onto a lo-fi discount store cassette as a master. The master cassette eventually congealed into an inseparable mass around the spindle, but a copy survived through 30-odd years, schlepped from backyard shed, plagued by spider eggs and rodent droppings, to black mold dripping from the walls of dilapidated storage units. So you’re getting “nobody knows what generation” quality.

Carl would write songs about things like the nuvo dead hippies playing too long when we played at parties, or about cops fucking with him, the depravity of his own town, and the over excesses of hair bands like Bon Jovi. Hopefully Carl doesn’t find out that I had atoned our sins by recently going on a Bon Jovi cruise.

Rock and Hip Hop music was all the rage at the time. So when Carl went away for a while, we got MC Wood D on the mic. FFFH was the sound of a sweaty, weird time in the Shenandoah Valley.