#2669 King Krule - The Ooz

I've talked about the production era - as contrast with the performance era - when it comes to this thing we can barely call rock. Sounds aren't made by hands anymore, guitars distilled to texture by the likes of Darkside, Ratatat, and late-era Radiohead.

King Krule's a counterpoint though. Through all the shimmery and murk, all the swampy oilslick shine, through layers and layers of echo remnants, there's this sense of an old soul rocker. Those gravelly vocals, those ringing, rich, intentional guitar moments, those seething saxes. Those saxes, like the ghosts of bleating 50's altos, drifting slow and hollow.

Haunted. Barely there, but rich with gasps of once-was.

It's smokily listenable, even as its utterly uncanny, wandering past any notion of song structure, some unholy marriage of dank detuned electronica, dissonant underground rock, and an old Elvis song on The KLF's radio.

I cannot overstate how surprised I was to learn that this miserable, ancient Waitsian poltergeist is gloaming the body of a 23 yearold redhead. Knock me over with a feather. Sound don't lie though, this kids got serious soul, officiating a wedding of old and new, borrowed and blue, like I haven't heard in ages 4.5/5