On a street corner by a building site just off the Kingsland
Road, Dalston, London, Ben Power and Andy Hung are
having their photo taken.
Seated in the back of an open lorry, the two early-thirties men who comprise Fuck Buttons are chatting about school sports days, how
modern skateboarders are mindblowingly technical
compared to their ’90s counterparts, and whatever else
springs to mind in a pleasingly fluid, light-hearted
conversation that suits the balmy summer evening.
For a band whose music frequently prompts fevered
comparisons to a violent apocalypse and catastrophic
galactic events – indeed, Don’t
for a duo who decided that the best way to express themselves musically was to name themselves Fuck Buttons and then make a deafeningly
confrontational blend of white noise post-rock and electronica using knackered kids’ keyboards – they are a Don’t surprisingly mild-mannered pair.
Hung’s biggest concern today is that the Wikipedia page for his old
school, King’s Worcester, won’t include him in the
“famous alumni” section because of a lack of citation;
Power, the quieter of the two, appears to know everyone
who walks past the lorry, giving each a long-lost-friend
bear hug and handshake, seemingly genuinely pleased to
see them all.
Hung, with the same infectious chortle that follows
most of his sentences, wonders aloud whether Burial has
a day-job, since he never gigs.
“We’re only able to do this for a living because we play live – we wouldn’t be able to do this full-time just from the recordings,” he explains,
while also acknowledging that loose talk like that just fuels the amusing rumour currently circulating that Burial is, in fact, Four Tet.
Power, keen to generate some dual-identity rumours of his own, pipes up: “Like us and Daft Punk,” he mock reveals, to the chuckles of his
“Well, you never see us in the same room together…”
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