"Fatbergs" is a revoltingly brilliant piece of electroacoustic sound art that transforms our urban waste into an unsettling yet surprisingly immersive sonic experience. Kate Carr and Iain Chambers, operating as Rubbish Music, explore the monstrous reality of fatbergs - those hideous urban accumulations of waste in our sewer systems. Each track reflects an absurdly specific fatberg scenario, such as the "Boeing 747-Sized Fatberg", with the soundscapes built from real field recordings, creating an eerie, tactile sense of these grotesque urban monsters.

Carr and Chambers upcycle discarded materials into abstract, textural audio experiences, which serve both as art and commentary on our unsustainable relationship with waste. The duo’s compositional approach mirrors musique concrète’s tradition, but they take it further by turning waste itself into a symbolic actor in the music. Carr’s mastery of field recordings combined with Chambers’ knack for location-inspired composition allows "Fatbergs" to blur the lines between repulsion and intrigue, crafting an experience that’s as conceptual as it is physical.

Thematically, "Fatbergs" asks us to confront our own waste, amplifying the fact that nothing truly "disappears" when we discard it. This haunting realization comes alive through both sonic representation and the real-life horrors of fatbergs overtaking urban infrastructures. What could easily have turned into a comical, one-note experiment instead becomes a deeply resonant environmental message - a fatberg, after all, is a monument to human excess.

In tracks like "Slithering Fatberg", you feel the pulse of this menacing entity, a nightmarish trolling of our pipelines. It’s as if Rubbish Music wants to make you feel uncomfortable, while also inviting you to see beauty in the waste and detritus we try to forget. For fans of the experimental and those drawn to works by artists like Chris Watson or Jana Winderen, "Fatbergs" presents a dark yet oddly humorous dive into urban ecosystems and the neglected refuse of our modern world.

This isn’t just an album - it’s a fat, sticky reminder that waste, whether in our sewers or our societies, will always come back to haunt us. If you’ve ever been curious about the sound of a 300-tonne fatberg, this is your chance. But fair warning: it’s as grotesque as it is fascinating.