The Faunts wreak havoc at the Lava Lounge ca Nov., 1996.
Story & Photo by Pete Brooks
Some are born to greatness, some have it thrust upon them and some just read about it in the trades. It’s that last category I’d like to talk about this month.
I discovered the Fauntleroys when Thu Winners opened for them last month, and I haven’t had a peaceful night’s sleep since.
The Fauntleroys, four alleged brothers who claim to share the same father but have not a mother in common, hail from the four corners of the U.K. Their media kit introduces them as follows: Lord Percival Ulysses Fauntleroy on bass and vocals, Lord Eustace Leviticus Fauntleroy and Lord Lucius Ahab Fauntleroy on guitar and vocals and Lord MacCaulay Ungsten Fauntleroy on drums.
These self-proclaimed “young English schoolboys,” while hopelessly inbred and quite useless as nobility, still claim to harbor a desire to “rule the world and definitely fix the French.”
With no pretensions to do anything more than “make you pay and pay and pay, and through our music we’re going to,” the Fauntleroys succeed on every level.
Blissfully unencumbered by even a hint of musical acumen and proud of it, what they lack in ability they more than make up for in volume. Although inarguably talent-free, they play with an exhilarating enthusiasm and abandon that really gets their message across: The Fauntleroys are here to punish us.
Their music, co-written by all four brothers, ranges from obscene (“Pretty Pink Tights”), to profane (“Humanity Sucks”), to merely offensive (“No Fat Chicks”).
I sat down with them recently to get a little more background for this article. That’s when the nightmare began.
With one guy yelling in my right ear about conquering the world and another one chewing up my left ear trying to sell me a used car I don’t even need, the interview went round and round till it finally doubled back on itself and ate its own tail.
Of key interest to the band, apparently, is their upcoming Broadway puppet show featuring live rock and roll music, as well as a rock opera called “Inbred England.”
Now the Fauntleroys are looking for the Big Break. As Percival explained, “We know we’re rock stars, and we don’t have a problem with it. The thing is, my boss has a problem with it. My girlfriend has a problem with it. See what I mean?” Eustace added, “We are rock stars. We know that. Most people who have seen us know that. Everybody else is going to pay and pay and pay.”
Wagging his finger in my face, Percival explained the ‘us versus them’ attitude of the band in more detail: “You’re either with us… or without us!”
Be prepared to shun the Fauntleroys upcoming CD on Long Beach’s own Chupacabra records. Or else, as their press kit warns, “In the end, the hot tears of shame will salt the oceans blue.”
© 1996, Gazette Newspapers
