Static Tensions (Prosthetic)
By Craig Regala
They tour with metal bands and often get covered thusly. I’m glad sucha thing is laid before the Lamb of God hordes, but I hear an urge that coulda existed without metal history (excepting it’s actually pre-named beginning in Sabbathville), or as a parallel blow up of the loud, bulked-up heave of heavy rock. Working with enough speed and traction to roll over any orthodox thinking, Kylesa make a ridiculously rhythmic throb full of great songs and boiled over energy surge. Yeah, songs. These chunks of stuff with an impact vulcanized from a string burn melodic narrative via rhythmic stroll and big grump bang tongue locked with thematic meaning strong enough to drive it home. The innerlocked double drummers and meshed guitar work like a big pumping heart, various things going on in a couple directions to the same goal. Nutrients in, energy up, blood out, blood back in. Repeat.
From the Fugazi-ish shout/push of “Said And Done” to the ol’ time flame-on-the-cymbals and paint-in-the-hair drug drive of the Butthole Surfers-ish “Perception” to the wonderfully bad acid psychedelic surge of “Running Red,” these fuckers ball up and stomp/waddle/charge/skip (yes, there’s implied skipping joy apparent here, as was manifested in Totimoshi’s Milagrosa) through the combined mulch of 60%-70% of the hard stuff worth huffing paint over. That’s an immense chuck of what-goes-on, but they’re up to it, thank fuck. Bits and pieces of so much of what’s great about rock shows up here. Dunno if it’s by hook or crook, but its there, and I’m happy.
OK, if you haven’t run into’m, I hope you will. My hymen bust with’m was Live at Emissions in Austin ‘cause I’m dumb and never parsed their equation, and my “friends” we’re “not fer you” on’m. I now have new friends. You can hit the lottery as easy as anyone ‘n’ have’m play in yer backyard all summer with Rwake, Baroness, Jucifer, Torche, Indian, and Harvey Milk. Or catch’m with Mastodon, Black Tusk, and Intronaut on tour.