(Yeay, 2003) Man is it frosty inside my apartment. And whyzat? Aha! Because my landlord, forgetting that it’s mid-November, hasn’t gotten ’round to turning on the building’s heat quite yet. Perhaps tonight’s snowfall will remind him – stay tuned! But, in honor of this single’s title, I’m flipping the old bird to the elements and still “FEELIN’ FINE” right now, bundled as I am in my $1.99 Street Stylez sweats, trusty bathrobe, and a pair of woolly slippers better described as “booties.” Roasty toasty! It’s like I always say to friends and strangers: might as well be comfortable in a, like, bodily sorta way while listening to Fat Worm of Error, cuz your EARS are sure gonna get yanked around in a manner not so gentle. Ho ho?? This is freewheeling clatter-crash at its extremiest, with extra studio-fuck manipulation steamshoveled on top to further de-rockify things. The blurps and urps of the costumed singerlady offer the closest hints of underlying structural semi-sanity, but instrumentally, everything handy seems to be getting abused with top force at, for the most part, random – the sound of noizeboyz getting thrown down the stairs, the breaking of eggs before the omelet. Meaning, uh, it’s a fun and unsettling record for all seasons, to be sure. Please note that the dancers in the crowd might want to ease into FWOE’s universe with drummer Neil’s unbeatable dubtown crushers, released solo under the name Bromp Treb.
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