Labels: Fysisk Format
Review by: Joe Callaghan
Emo without needlessly fiddly and complicated guitar is like football punditry without Mark Lawrenson. The absence is often greeted by a sigh of relief and rejoice but still secretly enjoyed on the anomalous occasion unbeknownst to anyone, even if that bitter smarmy beggar consistently receiving a wage packet to hate football every week makes your boiling blood turn black with disdain”¦ Ahem. Whilst Kaospilot get lumped in with the screamo lot, you’d be wide of the mark to expect typical formulaic humdrum. The crybaby yelps are replaced with LOUD. The scratchy guitars and rusty blast-beats are replaced with LOUD, and that jingle-jangle breakdown is replaced with “” Yeah, we know. If anything, this is a hardcore punk record and not much more. Sure, the lyrics might be about girls, and trees and it raining on your birthday, or something equally harrowing but it’s just too loud and raging to even care. It’s seriously loud. It’s punch-your-Boss-in-the-face Loud.
After an intro of swirling discordant noise, a lofi drum and guitar sound kicks in, akin to that of a homespun DIY record. So here I am, like a chump, cranking up the volume on my iPod, expecting a full length of narrowly audible, scratchy punk rock. The song kicks in properly with the slick, strident production on display. And there goes my face and all of its features, sprayed in a multitude of directions onto the road around me whilst I ride my bike to work. My face has exploded. Oh shit!
So, I’ll be the first to admit that this is a pretty horrible review. I really liked this record, and that’s about it. It’s dead good. Hardcore Punk went completely off my radar for a couple of years, but this has kicked the stuffing out of my headless torso. It goes all over the shop without straying into unfamiliar territory. It’s mathematical, without the pain and sheer annoyance of stops and starts, as it flows flawlessly through daft time signatures and punishing discordance. The only time I don’t like it is when it slows down, to an almost laborious doom tempo. Thick, low guitars and growled vocals, like a Corrupted record. It fits in perfectly, but I am more in favor, of the fast chaotic parts. That’s when Kaospilot are really in their element. It’s righteous and violent, fists pumping as you rip off your t-shirt’s sleeves. It makes you want to ride a motorcycle over a lake of fire, or get into a cage fight and kick someone in half”¦ It probably won’t. It’s just been so long since I’ve listened to anything this loud. It feels like when I was 13, when I first heard Straight Faced. From the first song, I’m pretty certain I instantly gained 3 stone in pure muscle mass and I was just about ready to get my step-dad in a headlock. There was no way I was going to tidy my bedroom!