Fuckers - Savages

from the single Fuckers / Dream Baby Dream (2014)

Don't let the fuckers get you down
Don't let the fuckers get you down
Don't let the fuckers get you down

.. and so goes the central mantra to this ten minute live track from the best new rock and roll band of recent years.  Sage advise to absorb while driving 100 miles per hour down I-85.

I was privileged to see this band last year.  Every band member was stellar in her craft.  This is evident on this track.  The post-punk guitar tones are mind bending.  The driving bass line establishing the magnificent groove that is perfectly complimented by the impassioned drumming.  And then there are the vocals delivered by Jehnny Beth, rocks next superstar.

Yeah, they are that good.

Click Here to watch the video for Fuckers.


  1. Not often am I so deeply moved by a new band that pulls on memories that at my age are almost primordial in nature. And if not so epochally timed, the memories thrive on youthful angst that I have not re-experienced without the assistance of a mind altering substance of some sort.

    This song pulled on 60's psychedelia like none has affected me in quite some while. Listening to this in the confines of my headphone space caused flashes of Eric Burden, Erik Braunn, and Jimi Hendrix, and of all things that allusive task that one sometimes is allowed to assist their female friends seek in pursuit of la petite mort; in that, the pressure builds, subsides, and builds again thinking the crescendo is near - only to
    behold that the intensity of the pursuit requires a deeper dig to maintain the course, until finally the crest is achieved.

    This is what "Fuckers" played out in a blend of intensity that is shockingly fabulous, and could have only been presented by an all girl band such as Savage.

  2. We need to party more often JB !!!

    I am with you. There were times when the guitar tone could only be described as a hallucinogenic, serpentine oboe. But I can't stop trippin' on the bass, a bass that commands you, a bass so punched up in the groove that the drummer is leaping from her seat, smashing cymbals with a vengeance that comes from somewhere deeper than male drummers know, a bass that dances to the waves of an intravenous breeze that excites the senses until you resonate like an orgasmic monkey a Friday night.


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