Klein - marked (2024)

  • 24 Jul, 17:39
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Artist:
Title: marked
Year Of Release: 2024
Label: Parkwuud Entertainment
Genre: Ambient, Electronic, Rock
Quality: 16bit-44,1kHz FLAC / 24bit-44,1kHz FLAC
Total Time: 44:57
Total Size: 219 mb / 451 mb
WebSite:

Tracklist
1. winner's clause (01:44)
2. gully creepa (03:06)
3. Blow the Whistle (04:48)
4. afrobeat weekender (00:42)
5. (breaking news) (05:26)
6. season two (02:56)
7. stain (02:24)
8. nightwatch (01:48)
9. more than like (05:40)
10. enemy of the state (06:56)
11. drugs won’t work (like mother like son) (01:32)
12. bluff (00:31)
13. ruthless (amnesia cleared) (03:32)
14. the gift of sofiat (03:52)


marked' is a time-shifted labyrinth of buzzsaw metal riffs and igneous shoegaze noise, unrestrained and utterly unhinged, it's Klein's inaugural concrète doom excursion - completely singular, of course, but if yr into Dreamcrusher, Botswana's Wrust, Darkthrone, Mica Levi, The Ephemeron Loop, or Geng’s chopped & screwed tribute to Black Sabbath, you’ll have some sense of what’s what. Once again leaning into that sharpened intuition, Klein upends expectations with a record of hard guitar shredding and knuckled drums that may come as a surprise to anyone who’s yet to catch her live show. We’ve listed a bunch of analogs in the opening paragraph, but, despite wracking our brains for comparisons, we’re at a loss for anyone else doing quite what she’s up to here. It’s transcendent, iconoclastic tackle, rupturing a whole new perspective on well worn tropes, in that way only she can. Motioning a nod to last year's 'Touched by an Angel' on the brief false-start ‘winner's clause', she quickly cuts thru whimsical jazz with grotesque mic interference and doom riffs that open the next chapter. Then, on ‘gully creepa', it's all laid bare: electrocuted drones get curdled with crushed hip-hop rolls, as her guitar stoops low enough to match that Sunn O)))/Earth octave, caked in distortion and re-heated by anthemic ATL strip club risers. She mangles radio shout-outs with fidgety power chords on 'afrobeat weekender', while on 'breaking news' she punctuates ghosted, pebble-dashed breaks with garbled vocals, and ‘season two' is like some lost Jandek session kissed with almost inaudible angelic vocalisations. Grasping the nettle, taking the bull by the horns - all that jazz - Klein depicts her most idealised and naturally radical self on this album, tiling up a mix of fractious short-form jolts and heavily satisfying chunks of charred guitar, with full blown sections of amp worship harnessed to spiny backbones, fearlessly staring down the abyss to express a bloodletting of outré energies. In some respects, it feels like a treatise on genre itself, cutting thru cultural stereotyping, the so called avant-garde, with all it’s archaic definitions.




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