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Sunday, March 17, 2013

SXSW review: The Phuss, from Fort Worth, gave rude and crude show


The Phuss roared so hard that even passersby in a music-saturated city like Austin stopped and stood transfixed.

The Phuss -- Joshua Fleming, Trey Alfaro and Forrest Barton -- rocked hard Thursday afternoon at Doc's Motorworks at SXSW in Austin.

Thao Nguyen

The Phuss -- Joshua Fleming, Trey Alfaro and Forrest Barton -- rocked hard Thursday afternoon at Doc's Motorworks at SXSW in Austin.

— Joshua Fleming has no patience for minced words. If he has something to say in between spitting ferocious garage rock lyrics into a microphone, he’ll just let er rip.

“I’ll be damned if you get a ballad out of me,” Fleming said to the crowd Thursday afternoon at Doc’s Motorworks.

He’s not kidding. Along with his band members – drummer Trey Alfaro and bassist Forrest Barton – Fleming delivered 30 minutes of blistering, raw, and dirty garage rock that never let up. That’s the only way for The Phuss, the Fort Worth trio fearlessly making sure that no-polish rock ‘n’ roll remains alive and thrashing. While Alfaro pounded his drums with sweaty energy and Barton coolly felt the thumping intensity of his bass, Fleming was the unrestrained animal on the platform.

In his faded Rolling Stones tongue logo T-shirt and low slung electric guitar, Fleming assaulted the ear drums with the kind of aggressive rock that is the stuff of angst-driven teens. This is mosh pit worthy, people. The Phuss roared so hard that even passersby in a music-saturated city like Austin during the super-packed music festival that is South by Southwest stopped and stood transfixed. Fleming hammed it up just for them.

Fleming takes on the stance and roars another blistering garage rocker.

Thao Nguyen

Fleming takes on the stance and roars another blistering garage rocker.

The Phuss' lead singer takes it all in and then regurgitates it back out. He took shots at the abundance of indie rock acts at the festival, at marriage, and at the aforementioned ballads. His stage vocabulary is peppered with words we can’t print in a family newspaper. He was rude and crude. Which means he was rock ‘n’ roll incarnate.

By the time that half-an-hour was up, Alfaro was spraying perspiration from his black mane onto the drum kit. Fleming was on his knees. When the guitar fuzz ceased, the look on Fleming’s face was of complete exhaustion and total satisfaction.



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