This same sense of urgency and immediacy is instantly apparent from the opening moments of their new album, Choosing To Die. Flicking a switch between harsh doom metal and frantic, panicked freakouts, they strike an intriguing balance of influences, caught somewhere between The Body, Converge and ’68. Somehow, they turn a two-piece into a haunted orchestra.
Monstrous riffs and discordant feedback permeate the album, painting a dread-soaked backdrop, upon which Thom Longdin snarls and barks, but the drums, provided by Jade Ashleigh Squires (along with the occasional synths) provide an equally interesting and foreboding dimension to the band.
Everything feels primal, urgent and chaotic, and yet there is a sense of control about the chaos, like bottling a storm. This controlled chaos is most apparent on ‘Being Forgotten’ and’Collapse’, which both benefit from a maelstrom of feedback, whipping around thunderous drum grooves. If it all sounds a bit too straightforward, ‘For Blood’ marks a turning point in the album, as they switch up tempos and lean into the grooves more. ‘To Take Life’ takes on an almost industrial identity and could easily have soundtracked a slew of early 2000s action hero explosion sequences on film.
“Everything feels primal, urgent and chaotic, and yet there is a sense of control about the chaos, like bottling a storm.”
If you thought you were going to have a good time listening to Kulk, you’d be mistaken. The lyrics are spare and direct, largely focusing on death and grief and fraught with imagery of fire, blood and bones. Where none of these themes break new ground, per se, Kulk deliver them in a way that tethers the stark imagery to raw and visceral emotions. Passages, such as “Where I had patience I have hate. Where I had love I have ache.” perfectly illustrating the depths of their despair. Like decaying flesh, the writing feels stripped to the bone and it paints a picture of a duo in pain, desperately navigating the turmoil of life through their art.
Jade’s sombre vocals sit gently atop a thrumming nest of rhythmic feedback on ‘The Saddest Holiday’, showcasing the band’s knack for a hook or two as well. Towards the end, ‘Ache’ resumes the repetitive pummeling, but this time with a haunting strings melody atop. There are layers to Kulk, if you take the time to gently peel away. By the time the album comes to an end, they have truly taken you on an adventure into their dark little world.
It may feel like Kulk are still at the beginning of their musical journey, in some ways, but they have a bright future ahead… making horrible, dark, noisy music; and that sounds just perfect as the seasonal darkness looms just around the corner.