KEN mode slam through your living room wall with their specific brand of dissonant hardcore, albeit more contemplative and exploratory. VOID is the companion piece to the 8 track LP NULL released last year. Both albums were recorded and mastered at the same time, though where NULL is to be looked at in the light of the chaotic first year of the pandemic, the more melancholy vibe of VOID is the contemplative aftermath, the sadness that creeps in, the disgust at a lack of control in the face of a violently traumatic event. A rallying cry against mental illness, whilst being a direct reflection of the collapse of someone’s mental health during the pandemic, VOID completes the two album arc. It also welcomes multi-instrumentalist Kathyrn Kerr into the KEN mode fold as a permanent member. Kerr provided saxophone parts on the band’s last album, so when they decided they wanted to increase wrath of their sonic onslaught, it made sense to bring her on board.
In an interview with the band, guitarist and vocalist Jesse Matthewson speaks about how the album was born out of the 2021 lockdown. After the madness and chaos of the year before, the band felt that they needed to approach things from the angle of sadness and loss, therefore requiring a shift in the production and writing of the music.
Whilst the raw aggression and oddball riffing remain the same, VOID is definitely a step in a more sadness drenched direction. Even when the music is full of life and energy there is an unseen force of loss residing behind it all. The riffs might be a little slower, the notes linger a little longer before decaying into macabre vocals. At times Matthewson sounds like he is close to having a breakdown, the pain that resides in his voice wrenched raw across the madness inducing trumpet breaks on tracks like “I Cannot.”
“Even when the music is full of life and energy there is an unseen force of loss residing behind it”
The closing track “Not today, old friend,” feels more like a melancholy post-punk track than the usual energy filled hatred that is purveyed by the band. At times this album doesn’t even sound like a KEN mode record; they have become more expansive, especially with the synth and atmospheric touches. Other tracks on the record walk the tightrope between the crushing heaviness that has come to be expected from the band, and this newer more contemplative nod to melody.
This balance is never more present than in “These Wires.” Matthewson’s pained vocals asking, “when will anything feel right again,” is mixed with melodic piano creating an atmosphere that flip flops between crushing depression and crippling sadness. The track goes on to beg, “let me believe there’s something more, despite knowing full well there’s not,” before once again plunging into a chaotic oddly uplifting riff, if only in context of what came before it. Musically this album is a big step up by by KEN mode and whilst it might not quite be the time to kill everyone now, the band would have you believe that at the very least there is a need to address the collective trauma we all experienced through those two lost years.