Sound Off!: Lungfish

Philosopher-punk. Few bands could even come close to warranting that designation.  Lungfish is one of them.  Forged in the fires of 1987 Baltimore, they slammed out album after album of intense, mesmerizing and primitive post-punk laden with lyrics that oscillate between poetry and manifesto.

There is unquestionably a rigid, formulaic approach Lungfish have intentionally implemented in their music.  Simple, repetitive rhythms and melodies are formed from lumbering guitar and bass lines. They present a cyclic sound that feels as natural and dependable as day progressing to night and back again.  Each song with a familiar-yet-distinct, enthralling hook.  Lead singer Daniel Higg’s sophist lyrics babble like a brook, speaking and ranting, washing away everything but the instrumental bedrock.  Stretched across 11 albums, all but the first released on DC institution Dischord Records, their music is fresh and energizing as the day it was written.

Currently on hiatus, Lungfish’s live performances are sorely missed.  Their stage presence, as their music, held a mystical air about it.  Each member appearing as a wild-eyed, reincarnated sage from an era long gone, out of place in this world and desperately trying to communicate their wisdom.

Lead singer Daniel Higgs is probably the most memorable member for me, wiry, greyed and grizzled, easily mistaken for a vagabond or vagrant.  He is captivating in performance, as if a tightly coiled snake that toys with releasing its power, threatening to attack, but never allowing itself to.  Higgs has been forging his own path as of late, releasing an eclectic series of solo albums (most recently 2007’s Atomic Yggdrasil Tarot).  Solo, Higgs has been exploring instrumental voices beyond those found in Lungfish, such as the banjo and toy piano and generally just indulging his more experimental urges.

MP3: Lungfish - Descender from 1991’s Talking Songs for Walking

MP3: Lungfish - Parthenogenesis from 1991’s Talking Songs for Walking