This summer's riots in London were unique in that a great deal of those taking part were essentially kids-- young people whose opportunities have been squeezed tight over the past years with widespread youth unemployment and huge University fees. Generational divides can often make the things young people do seem kind of alien, and the riots-- with no spokesperson and no manifesto-- were difficult for some people to comprehend. At just 17 Archy Marshall, aka King Krule, belongs to that frustrated section of the populace, and although he told Pitchfork recently that he didn't riot himself, he understood why others did.
His debut EP might not be overtly political lyrically, but there's a wellspring of tension and bleakness running through the record that taps into those feelings of discontent that hung in the air this summer. Often the tension in Marshall's songs is restless and unresolved. "Lead Existence", for example, builds for just a minute before snapping shut on the line "I lost the soul to my blues, a long time ago"-- in itself a pretty haunting line for somebody so young.
Then there's his voice, which doesn't seem like it should come from a figure so slight-- it's at turns gruff, deep and often cracked. There are shades of Leonard Cohen in that delivery and a similar drawl at times to Billy Bragg (who himself championed Marshall back when he was going under Zoo Kid). It's an expressive voice, changing and morphing with the mood of the songs. On "Bleak Bake" Marshall sounds more laidback over a canvas of dubby keys, 808 drums, and deep bass. That calm delivery makes the violence in the lines, "My heart got hold of my head and ripped it to its seams," and, "Now I'm covered in blood on the bed/ And its a familiar scene," seem all the more chilling.
While most of Marshall's lyrics can be bleak or even violent, the instrumentation almost always strikes a warm contrast. There's beauty in the clean, echoing guitars that are all over King Krule and some unexpected moments too-- the jazzy stand-up bass on "363N63" or the string hits in "Bleak Bake", for example. These textures and sounds lend a redemptive, hopeful quality to the music.
EP highlight and closer "The Noose of Jah City" is the most complete and focused song on the record. It pivots on an echoing guitar line and sparkling keyboards as Marshall's vocal, enveloped in reverb, spills across that background. In the verses he sounds poised, imagining his own death, stoically predicting, "My body found, but my soul was left to drown/ Suffocated in concrete." Marshall's anxiety about his mind and soul is a recurring motif throughout the EP and, like the beauty in some of the instrumentation, makes for a detached, almost mystical contrast to the kitchen-sink vibe of the rest of the drama.
There's a documentary realism to much of these recordings, from Marshall's cough at the start of "Bleak Bake", to his spoken introduction to "The Noose of Jah City". Those moments make you feel like a voyeur sneaking a listen to a work in progress. If there's one flaw, it's that King Krule does seem quite slight in its brevity, and ideas are often left to hang in the air rather than chased to their conclusion. But the record also feels like an important moment in time marked on a door frame-- it's an intriguing peek into the restless, youthful development of King Krule.
