Fat Dog talk breakthrough single 'King Of The Slugs', chaotic live shows, and their brilliantly bonkers debut album 'WOOF.' • Interview • DIY Magazine

Check one two, check one two,” Fat Dog frontman Joe Love repeats into a microphone, amid the occasional screech of an amplifier through the PA system. His eyes are fixed on a sound technician on the other side of the tent, as he soundchecks above the rabble of a crowd who have long filled the space to capacity and are now spilling out into the surrounding area.

It makes for a humble opening to a performance which is – in a fashion now familiar to Fat Dog fans – nothing short of pandemonium. Ferocious punk colludes with techno samples and touches of klezmer to transform the Latitude festival marquee into a scene which sits somewhere between a squat rave and a Jewish wedding (the latter comparison heavily assisted by revellers that stack onto each other’s shoulders before being swept up into a cascading circular moshpit).

Joe has opted for a cowboy hat and camo military vest look, often overseeing proceedings from within the centre of the circle pit like an overzealous preacher. His bandmates exchange bare bones choreography and heavy instrumentation from beneath a smoke machine that casts a red mist over the audience, creating a scene that feels as apocalyptic as it does joyous.

Fast forward 30 minutes and the band are part of a very different tableau. Keyboardist Chris Hughes is sat on the grass alongside Joe and saxophonist Morgan Wallace; a yoga session is taking place beneath an awning mere metres away, and Morgan is eating crumble and custard from a nearby food van. It’s a tranquil scene that couldn’t be more juxtaposed from the chaos of their performance, but Fat Dog are used to pinballing between modes these days. A pair of festival goers have already stopped by to inform the band members that their show has been their favourite of the weekend so far. “It’s only Friday afternoon,” Chris responds in a tone that’s more confused than it is dismissive. “How many sets have you even seen!?” “That’s nice of you to say, thanks,” Joe interrupts, sparing them the need to answer.

It’s an interaction that the group have experienced evermore frequently in recent months while riding the wave of an unforgiving tour schedule as anticipation builds for their debut album ‘WOOF.’. “We’ve had it ready for like, six months,” says Chris of the record. “We’ve released most of it and we’re ready to move on to new stuff now… We’ve essentially spoiled the movie in the trailer.” Morgan laughs: “It’s actually true!”

The release marks the most recent instalment in a hat-trick of autumnal milestones for the group. 2022 saw Fat Dog signing to indie stalwart label Domino in a backstage room at Camden’s Roundhouse following a support slot with Sports Team. In the closing leg of 2023, meanwhile, the band were officially delivered to the masses via their rollercoaster of a debut single, ‘King of the Slugs’ after many months of gathering buzz throughout London’s spit and sawdust venues. “We were touring for ages before we’d released anything,” Joe says of their tactics. “We didn’t want to release tracks that nobody was going to listen to. Maybe we should shelve the album and give it another year, just blue balls people to the max and keep them waiting…”

He’s joking, of course. And in fact, below their casual demeanour, the group evidently place real value in the legitimacy attached to sharing a full body of work with the world. “It’s a target for every band isn’t it, releasing a debut album,” Chris says. “We used to be asked a lot whether or not we were ever going to release an album, but we’re a band – it’s what bands do.” “It was as if people expected us to avoid doing it,” Morgan continues, “as though that would be an edgy thing to do.” “We care about what our debut says about us too,” says Joe. “It all has to sound good and stand up as an album. And if listeners don’t have the attention span to listen to 30 minutes of music then we’re all fucked, aren’t we.”

“We requested an Elvis impersonator for our green room previously, and we insisted that he just sit in the corner.” – Chris Hughes

Ironically, ‘We’re all fucked, aren’t we’ isn’t a bad subtitle with which to present ‘WOOF.’. A sense of dystopian chaos begins with the album’s cover art and looms heavy over the LP’s nine tracks, from the prophetic heft of the opening monologue (narrated by Dead Man’s Shoes actor Neil Bell), to the frenetic violence of ‘Running’. Salvaged from the darkness by Fat Dog’s eye for a humorous lyric and ear for killer danceability, the force of personality presented throughout ‘WOOF.’ makes for an inaugural release which would leave even the most articulate music fan wanting in search of suitable reference points.

“I always read everything,” Chris says immediately when asked whether he keeps an eye on the group’s critical reception. “All of the YouTube comments,” Morgan nods in agreement. “And I get so bitter about them,” continues Chris. “I read a negative live gig review from last year and I found out where the guy bloody lived! He’s called…”

“Let’s not name drop him in the interview,” Joe interjects, “but we would like to make it clear that we know where his kids go to school.” He addresses this last line towards the recording device. “He didn’t even slag off the show, he was just a bit of an arsehole…” “Maybe we’re the arseholes for reading it and thinking that he’s an arsehole?” Chris reasons. “We’ve had a lot of haters, now that I think about it, actually.” Joe tries to steer things back on course: “A lot of lovers too.”

“Yeahhh, but a LOT of haters,” Chris notes. “Should we really be talking about this?” Joe stops to question, facing his bandmates. “It’s probably quite a bad trait. I don’t see any other interviews where the bands talk about Googling themselves.”

In serendipitous timing, two more people gingerly make their way over to the group to declare their Fat Dog fandom. “We’ve paid upfront for another eight people to come over while this interview is taking place,” Chris says, pretending to check his watch after the fans leave. “The others are actually pretty late, the interview will be over soon.”

It’s difficult at times to distinguish humour from sincerity within the group – particularly when paired with their often absurdist songwriting. “I tried to put more of myself into the lyrics,” Joe says, when asked how much vulnerability is portrayed beneath ‘WOOF.’’s abstract narratives, “but Domino said we’d get cancelled if I didn’t change them.” Chris chimes in: “We were pre-cancelled to spare us the mass cancellation down the line. Let’s just say the album was initially an Alex Jones podcast.”

But seriously? “Nah, politics and shit like that doesn’t really have any place in what we do,” Joe concedes. “If you’re a political band then you’ve got to know everything about the subject you’re talking about.” Chris picks up the baton once more: “We’re kinda idiots when it comes to political stuff and I’m not sure I’d want politics to be part of the brand for this band; it’s not for us.”

“Politics and shit like that doesn’t really have any place in what we do.” – Joe Love

Whether it’s this insistence on keeping things light or the undeniable chemistry between the outfit’s members, Fat Dog have taken to the promotional module of the rockstar syllabus like a duck to water. “Chris and I get wined and dined while we do press, I don’t understand why so many artists complain about doing it,” Joe reasons. “We were hoping that Chris would be the guy to promote us on TikTok, to get a bit of extra hype going.” “I’m not the guy for that!” Chris responds, delivered with the exasperation of an ongoing point of contention. “We do have TikTok and all that stuff, but it’s just maintained by a man who lives in a broom cupboard at Domino. I don’t particularly want to be a TikTok band.”

Festival regulars across Europe and America will be aware that Fat Dog are no strangers to performing two or more sets in the space of one day, a developing trait that they insist is not by their own design. “We didn’t know we were playing two gigs until yesterday,” Morgan claims as she lifts herself from the lawn and greets the band’s new bassist Jacqui Wheeler and Johnny Hutchinson, better known as their masked drummer.

Today’s itinerary, specifically, leaves the freshly-reunited gang with around nine hours to fill between performances. There’s a photoshoot in the woods, a potter around the festival site and a quick lap of the pond courtesy of a transit boat – a romantic golden-hour foray across the water that might feel out of character were it not for the presence of a dog mask slumped over Johnny’s face, latex tongue a-wagging in the early evening breeze. Then it’s back to the confines of the tour van to pass the aux lead around.

“We used to have pre-shows rituals, mainly playing [Endor’s] ‘Pump It Up’ loudly,” Chris recalls. “That was when we used to get really nervous before gigs.” It’s almost 1am and he, Joe and Morgan are gathered in a portakabin green room. A pink piece of paper is stuck over the sole clinical light source to present a student-chic brand of warm lighting. The capers of earlier in the day feel like a distant memory and energy in the room is languishing as the trio slouch in fold-up picnic chairs around a table.

The band are riding the crest of a year which has seen them play festivals and headline shows across Europe, Australia and America, with SXSW in Texas setting the tone for their excessive scheduling. “We did 12 shows in 4 days,” Chris clarifies alongside a well-timed yawn. “Some of our shows were like, 10:30am after we’d played a set at 2:30am that morning. People turned up hungover as shit in the blazing heat, trying to eat breakfast while watching us.”

America might not be an obvious fit for Fat Dog’s abrasive electro-punk-klezmer, but apparently there’s one demographic who’ve immediately taken them to their hearts. “Aunts,” Morgan states with immediacy. “Yeah, mostly aunts,” Joe adds. “Aunts and a Larry David lookalike who came to about four of our sets over SXSW.” “One of the venues had a window behind the stage,” Morgan continues. “He was stood behind us on the street for the whole show, looking in.” “It was tripping me out, frankly,” Chris concludes.

Much like their relationship with reviews, it’s the bad shows that leave a lasting impression on the group. “I keep a clear memory of every single shit gig that we’ve done,” Joe claims, before rolling up his sleeve to show the assemblage of backstage festival wristbands that adorn his arm, pointing at one after another: “Shit. Shit. That gig was alright actually. Shit. Shit… To be fair,” he pauses, reasoning, “I’d say recently our split is 80/20. 80% good gigs. One of the worst that we’ve ever played was our first ever headline, at Corsica Studios. James Ford [superstar producer with whom the band went on to create ‘WOOF.’] was watching that night.” Chris shudders at the memory. “You know it’s going badly when Nathan from Fat White Family is shaking you by the shoulders and telling you that you’re an embarrassment.”

A member of the team knocks on the door and presents a fistful of drink tokens. “We used to just get drinks but now we sometimes get cheese and salami,” says Morgan. “We always seem to have Yakult too,” Chris adds. “We requested an Elvis impersonator for our green room previously, but he wasn’t allowed to speak. We insisted that he just sit in the corner.” “That was in Belgium,” Morgan laughs, “they’ll give you anything you ask for if it’s on the rider. The guy just sat there with his eyes pointing straight ahead.” “You’ve got to treat yourself sometimes,” Joe shrugs as though the request was as humdrum as a packet of digestives. “He looked bare like Elvis too.”

The Portakabin is vacated and the wider band are united in killing time ahead of their set. “We were mostly joking earlier, but I’m dreading the album reviews,” Joe muses once more on ‘WOOF.’’s imminent arrival. “I know people will keep coming to the live shows, but I’ve spent a lot of time on these songs and I want the album to be regarded as good,” he pauses. “Because I know that the album is good.”

The group take to the stage once more, with another capacity crowd bustling with excitement and reaching fever-pitch. Chris is wielding a baseball bat as the set’s cacophonous opening monologue cascades through the speakers to the sound of deafening cheers. “We’re Fat Dog!” he bellows into the microphone. “Love us. As we will love you.”

‘WOOF.’ is out now via Domino.

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