Fashoda Crisis were born kicking and screaming into the creative vacuum that is Southend, Essex, in April 2005. A frothing three headed abomination against nature that infuse anarchic alt rock paint-stripping noisemongery with melodic pop sensibilities whose manifesto is to pour scorn on the ridiculous. Inflammatory and confrontational, they have built a solid reputation on the backs of their visceral live performances.

At all times Fashoda Crisis play from the bottom of their twisted, blackened tumourous little hearts. They spew forth vitriol and acerbic wit in equal measures, melding political rhetoric and social commentary with opaquely personal lyrics. Intelligent, violent, passionate, honest, spleen-rupturingly humourous (and modest, let’s not forget modest) genre mangling mentalists.

Fashoda Crisis pride ART over ARTIFACE and they have observed with disgust and righteous ire as once respected peers have soiled their creativity and compromised their integrity in the fervent hope of wrapping their lips around the swollen phallus of the music industry.

Fashoda Crisis are uncompromising and fiercely independent, they will never dilute themselves to become more palatable and as such will never conform to mainstream popularity. Fashoda Crisis are not for the consumption of the bleating masses, they are for the chosen few, the readers, thinkers and true listeners who view the creation of music as a sacred form of art and whose record collection is not amassed on the basis of hairstyles and stage outfits.

Fashoda Crisis love you. But would never cheapen the sentiment by saying so to your face.

The words of others...

“so fucking sweet it hurts”
“splenetic, vitriolic post-Falkous  magnificence,  driving a steamroller through the youth's popular culture until it splits into millions of unidentifiable pieces, which they then pick up and rearrange into acerbically angry splintered post-hardcore that is entirely dedicated to blasting down the walls.”
Sweeping The Nation – 21/11/11
“  "The sort of music that wants to reach out of the speakers and strangle you...an absolutely cathartic musical experience"”
“Utter, utter genius, but screamed with the most convincing anger I think ever heard in a song.”
Echoes and Dust 23/10/11
“"Filthy and ferocious" - Southend Who?”
“From the vocal inflections to the melodic twangs in the slabs of guitar and the crowbar drums, this could be Steve Albini at his best (with a pinch of Rage Against the Machine spoken agitation in the middle 8). Insistent, uncompromising, demanding to be heard - isn't it time you got up to some mischief?”
“Fashoda Crisis deliver seven cuts of sarcastic, twisted indie rock as only they know how on this debut (mini) album proper. Fusing jarring guitars, thudding bass lines, lashings of noise and a wealth of ear-splitting screams/deranged mutterings in equal measure thanks to confrontational singer/guitarist Sim; this is music to get angry - nay - psychotic, to: sit and listen in a dark room at your own risk. 'Land of the S.O.P' is a Daily Mail reader-baiting ditty that mixes dark humour with a touch of disco funk - and yes, it works marvellously. You won't find a more caring - or angrier - band.”
Noisy Magazine
“Mischief of One Kind and Another is a rowdy and entertaining record, steeped in sweat and rage and humour, like a particularly demented - if occasionally life-threatening - night on the town.”
God is in the TV
“Fashoda Crisis certainly do a great job of standing out from their British contemporaries on their self-released debut album Mischief Of One Kind And Another. Containing the kind of jerky stop-start rhythms that make Shellac so appealing 'What God Meant To Say' kicks matters off in typically furious style, while the adrenaline fuelled 'If Charlie Simpson Ruled The World' catches the band at their most pissed off and self-righteous.”
“This is fierce. Angry. Focussed...Full of fury, passion and idignation...Art uncompromised by commercial concern.”
Panic Magazine