Fuck Buttons – Slow Focus (ATP)

Somehow, by some far-fetched miracle, Fuck Buttons' recent third album entered into the UK Top 40, making it very difficult for Radio 1 to broadcast the rundown on a Sunday afternoon. The Bristol/London electro-rock duo have been wowing scores of loyal legions for years, but it's only with new LP Slow Focus that they've managed to branch out to a wider audience. The pair have been stellar for yonks, so frankly, it's not unfathomable that they'd one day break through the barrier into uncanny valley with Robin Thicke and Macklemore and Avicii. Also, given their rampant prominence at last year's Olympic Games, it's no wonder they've attracted masses. They're getting famous.

Slow Focus comes four lengthy years after their acclaimed sophomore album, Tarot Sport, affectionately dubbed “a big ball of noise” by the couple's Benjamin Power. Inspired by the blistering darkness of Aphex Twin and the sprawling post-rock of Mogwai, Fuck Buttons produce a brutal cacophony that, despite the melange of raw dissonance á la Crystal Castles (circa II) and primitive drums that sound more like the recording of a kerb stomp, is totally mesmerising. Like a high-speed car crash, it's violent, soaked in mayhem and induces whiplash rubbernecking. It's good to find out that the twosome haven't particularly strayed from their own marked-out path, and are still furiously making noise.

Eight-minute opener 'Brainfreeze' is a deafening sonic golem. Built from glitch-riddled synths, industrial percussion and the robotic harmonies of power station ambiance, it's slow to build into the goliath beast it ends up. True to post-rock traditions, it adds layer upon layer, and before you've even realised what's unfolding in front of your eyes - it's a behemoth of a track. 'The Red Wing' is similar, in that's it's climactic with tribal post-industrial elements implying an apocalyptic future where we've been enslaved by machines. There's more of a porn-groove thing going on though than a post-rock thing, with slogging treacle basslines and Godsmack beats. It's a seductive, sadistic track – sort of like the aural equivalent of a dominatrix, but with more squealing flutes and ear-splitting chaos.

The LP still clocks it at 52 minutes, even though it's only seven tracks long, mostly thanks to the final two cuts, each extending past the 10-minute mark. 'Stalker' is like the score to a '70s sci-fi classic. Whirring blippity-bloopity keys pan left to right like the ball in Pong on its most insane mode. Although featuring the most grating synth to have ever been discovered by man (kudos on that front), the cut doesn't seem to evoke their essence. Tonally, it begins very Fuck Buttons-esque, but as it trundles along, that instant bite at the beginning grows dull and we're left with a hefty chunk of darkwave house. It would go splendidly at a goth rave, but it lacks the vigour to enthral over the 10-minute lifespan it possesses. 'Hidden XS' does a better job. Closing the album, the effort conjures visions of desolate landscapes ravaged by disaster. It's menacing, sinister, and incites a feeling of hollowness inside your chest. Though it's got that angry/angsty vibe going on, the track is more about scooping out your beating love-muscle and leaving you empty, and rather than sending aggressive pulses, it's quite happy to suck out all hope instead. It forces you to look into the future and watch civilisation crumble. It's the lament of the human race.

Slow Focus is stunning. It's not perfect, but it's a darn sight better than 99% of what you'd find in a countdown of Britain's most popular music. Fuck Buttons aren't reinventing themselves with the album; they're running with a theme that worked for them previously, and occasionally adding a few deviations to various degrees of success. Not evolving is rarely a good thing, but given how fantastic Fuck Buttons' style is, it doesn't need sticky mitts pawing, muddying and altering – for now they can stay just how they are.