Death rattles aren't practiced this close to the actual thing. KALAMITY KILLS' self-titled reprimands its own arrival. Veins push against skin, teeth grind, it flails across broken stone, like a revenant too arrogant to perish before the gates of the cemetery. Its coming is dark. Beauty is absent, no comforting aroma of perspiration, but rather the unmistakable odour of rot. This is an involuntary reaction to your own death, and knowing our final destination is eternally dust.
"Anthem" is stripped bare less as a song and more as the closing grip of strangulation. Luzier's drums are crushing, like dirt on a coffin; each strike a second you can't get away from. The album is a procession of anguish. "Dearest Enemy (Pressure)" is venomous to the point of choking rather than strangled. "Dark Secrets" seeps into your core, gorging on grief which no shepherd can brush away. Guitars go awry, their shrieks falling into white sound. "Burn" rages like a funeral pyre, and the GPS matter-of-factly tells you to remain in the fire, since rescue is not possible, and rerouting is not an option.
"What's On Your Mind? (Pure Energy)" sheds the shallow smile to expose gnarled teeth. Kiarely Castillo warbles in zombie-like cadaverous voices, distorting nostalgia into something feral and unyielding, with memory rotting like rusty highway signs buried under a shroud of obscurity.
"Hellfire Honey" wields irony as dagger in the teeth, slaying belief and defying altars, brick by rotted brick. "Sinners Welcome" continues to drive the nails of the coffin deeper, until there are nothing but splinters.
"I Still Believe" emerged from a superficial grave, plodding under an indifferent sky. [Editor: My bias towards 'The Lost Boys' dictates that this song slaps. TIM CAPELLO! you sexy saxophone wielding warrior of wank-banks!] The final "Amen" breathes like a dying star, and silently devours everything. The GPS utters the self-evident truth
Kalamity Kills haven’t merely produced an album, it’s a voice defiantly screaming into the void, fully aware the void won’t respond. It leaves deliberate scars, deep reminders of our own insignificance. By the end, you’re left tasting eternity's bitter flavour: small, inconsequential, and already forgotten.
Final Score: 8/10. Not by fault, there aren't many that are worth mentioning, but because numbers don't mean anything, like mileposts on an endless desert. Words: Matt Denny.
"Anthem" is stripped bare less as a song and more as the closing grip of strangulation. Luzier's drums are crushing, like dirt on a coffin; each strike a second you can't get away from. The album is a procession of anguish. "Dearest Enemy (Pressure)" is venomous to the point of choking rather than strangled. "Dark Secrets" seeps into your core, gorging on grief which no shepherd can brush away. Guitars go awry, their shrieks falling into white sound. "Burn" rages like a funeral pyre, and the GPS matter-of-factly tells you to remain in the fire, since rescue is not possible, and rerouting is not an option.
"What's On Your Mind? (Pure Energy)" sheds the shallow smile to expose gnarled teeth. Kiarely Castillo warbles in zombie-like cadaverous voices, distorting nostalgia into something feral and unyielding, with memory rotting like rusty highway signs buried under a shroud of obscurity.
"Hellfire Honey" wields irony as dagger in the teeth, slaying belief and defying altars, brick by rotted brick. "Sinners Welcome" continues to drive the nails of the coffin deeper, until there are nothing but splinters.
"I Still Believe" emerged from a superficial grave, plodding under an indifferent sky. [Editor: My bias towards 'The Lost Boys' dictates that this song slaps. TIM CAPELLO! you sexy saxophone wielding warrior of wank-banks!] The final "Amen" breathes like a dying star, and silently devours everything. The GPS utters the self-evident truth
Kalamity Kills haven’t merely produced an album, it’s a voice defiantly screaming into the void, fully aware the void won’t respond. It leaves deliberate scars, deep reminders of our own insignificance. By the end, you’re left tasting eternity's bitter flavour: small, inconsequential, and already forgotten.
Final Score: 8/10. Not by fault, there aren't many that are worth mentioning, but because numbers don't mean anything, like mileposts on an endless desert. Words: Matt Denny.
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