If the world were just, Kylesa would be a household name. Fellow Georgians Mastodon have rocketed to fame due to hard work, press hype, and acceptance by non-metalheads. Fellow Savannians Baroness have earned plaudits due to a sound that's more classic rock than metal. Kylesa, too, have alloyed sludge metal with melody and finesse. Their star, though, has brightened more slowly. After four albums and thousands of road miles logged, its shine has become brilliant.
Kylesa formed in 2001. From the beginning, it was somewhat of a mutt. Hardcore punk, crust punk, caveman metal, and rough-hewn prog did battle on its self-titled debut. 2005's To Walk a Middle Course was darker, dragging sludge metal through murky depths. The following year's Time Will Fuse Its Worth was a breakthrough for several reasons. First, its production was relatively clear, exposing diverse elements: flashes of psychedelia, dueling male and female vocals, punk and metal at each other's throats. Second, it was Kylesa's first album with two drummers. At that time, though, their impact was greater live than on record. Most importantly, the band discovered catchiness. "Hollow Severer" found guitarist/vocalist Phillip Cope carrying an actual tune, and its video got MTV exposure.
The lessons learned are manifest on Static Tensions. In the past, Kylesa's songs were often about a minute too long. Their head-down pounding worked well live, but dragged on record. Now riffs repeat only when necessary. Songs climb up and down with relentless momentum. "Scapegoat", for example, is basically a hardcore punk two-step. But despite this newfound efficiency, the songs are more baroque than ever. They flaunt melodies shamelessly now. Choruses are insistent. Practically the whole record is hummable. The bright theme of "Unknown Awareness" arcs like a rainbow overhead. "Running Red" alternates Slayer harmonies with riffs redolent of Black Sabbath's "Iron Man". Laura Pleasants' singing, once a buried gem, is often upfront. She ranges from a mysterious coo to more forceful declamation. Both provide a feminine contrast to roiling, downtuned riffs underneath.
Headphones, or a good stereo, reveal this record's masterstroke: production that mostly separates the drummers hard left and right. This yields both greater clarity and density. Together, the drummers form a prickly thicket of percussion. But they often separate into rich counterpoint. "Said and Done", for example, pits blastbeats on the left against slow accents on the right. They're playing in time, but they're almost fighting each other. The body is torn as to how to react.
Such push and pull echoes Kylesa's lyrical obsession with time. Yesterday and tomorrow are common concerns. The specter of aging haunts this record, with repeated references to fading away. "Insomnia for Months" swims in a haze of "Multitude of memories/ Left in a stupor/ Sobriety out of boredom." But the delivery is sharp, with ride cymbals cutting through tumbling syncopations. Kylesa's lyrics lean towards the abstract and personal. They avoid grand gestures or obvious themes that allow for easy grasp. (Contrast, for example, Mastodon and mythology.) This time, though, grasp is almost moot. The band has etched light, dark, sky, and earth so deftly onto wax that it vibrates the very soul.
