The self-titled debut from Brooklyn’s K-Holes is a raw punk brooder, which leans on the infernal wails of saxophone as the constant companion for a descent into an underworld of gore-tempo sludge, blood, and cacophony. The band – assembled out of past and present members of the Black Lips (QRO live review), Golden Triangle (QRO photos), Bezoar, and Georgiana Starlington – has all the credentials of a formidable rock ‘n’ roll outfit, but the darkness and intensity gets ratcheted up a notch that may scare a few folks out of the room (and have the rest begging for more).
The long, slow, somewhat painful clamor of the brass baby remains one of the most striking features of the album. K-Holes make their most provocative music when they let the saxophone rip and stab through the song like a B-movie slasher’s knife, plunging into your guts, twisting around in the victim’s innards. Opener "Native Tongues" (which wastes no time offending more delicate sensibilities with its ‘Indian war cry’ vocal refrain), "Swamp Fires", and "Gutter" aren’t dancing music – it’s writhing music. Throw-you-down-on-the-floor-over-a-chalk-drawn-pentagram-with-a-head-full-of-mescaline music. Just a typical Saturday night.
The mood lightens, relatively speaking, on "Into Black", an eerie Creedence Clearwater Revival-style bayou ditty. The saxophone plays its best harmonica impersonation while Patti-Smith-meets-Bukka-White deals out some Delta wisdom. The adrenaline picks up with tracks "Meat Man", "Short Zippers" (a sort of revenge narrative targeting male sluts), and "Speedy Greedy" (a "Gabba gabba hey" burner). The up-tempo numbers make for a nice change of pace from the slower, sludge-core, though their fairly conventional contemporary garage punk construction make them feel more like covers of the band members’ former bands instead of anything that could be properly called K-Holes.
If you’ve never heard or cared for brass instrumentation in punk rock, K-Holes self-titled debut could make you a convert. The raw desperation exuded by Coltrane in The Father, Son and Holy Ghost, is the natural correlate to punk’s pugnacious hellfire. The instrument captures a spirit of agonized revolt that is too infrequently hit upon since pop music leaned too hard on it as a tired accent for even more tired rock/pop from the ‘80s and ‘90s (think Huey Lewis & The News, the weaker moments of the E Street Band, Kenny G). Maybe it’s time for a rebirth of the saxophone in rock ‘n’ roll circles? Sources report that K-Holes are already planning to record their follow-up album. It will be interesting to see how the songwriting evolves, given the split between the more straight ahead punk rock numbers and the slower brasscore grinders. However it shapes up, expect a sonic body blow. K-Holes weren’t built for easy listening.
MP3 Stream: "Into Black"
