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Kinski - "Stumbledown Terrace" | Album Review

by Chris Polley (@qhrizpolley)

Seattle experimental rock trio Kinski have, for nearly three decades now, specialized in top-of-the-line, grade-A chunkiness, and they may have hit the chunk motherlode on their most recent and 11th overall LP , Stumbledown Terrace.

Their first for longtime New Jersey radio DJ Jon Solomon’s label, Comedy Minus One (formerly My Pal God), Kinski’s latest LP would feel like a carefully calibrated and constructed collection if it didn’t also feel so effortless at the same time. Right from the top, opener “Do You Like Long Hair?” offers dueling clean guitar lines, while chimes float ethereally in the distance, alongside  some soft bass and steady tom hits. It’s sparse,  comforting, and …un-Kinski. The last time I heard softness and chimes at the beginning of a record by Kinski , it was their first, Be Gentle with the Warm Turtle, released in 2001. I’m acutely aware of just how damaged and dissonant the music becomes so quickly on that powerhouse debut because I still play the crap out of it, as I do 2003’s Airs Above Your Station and 2005’s Alpine Static

As their discography grew, so did the stylings. Some releases are more akin to outsider music, some are more straightforward and riff-based, and some did both. What brings them all together? That chunk. The distortion clicks on, and the guitars scream thickly. The k rhythm section locks in with the gusto necessary to assist the chunk. The trio does this slowly and gently in the opening minutes of Stumbledown Terrace, but by the end of that opening track, you realize that what was once a babbling brook has somehow become a cacophonous typhoon of feedback squalls, and pummeling waves of gauzy organ on top of the beat. From delicate to chunky, to noise and back again, this is what Kinski has arguably perfected 14 years later.

It doesn’t let up. “Gang of 3” fittingly cements their intense musicianship as a three-piece (after losing guitarist/keyboardist Matthew Reid Schwartz shortly before heading into the studio) with a purposely plodding, slackery chord progression that transforms into a groove-based jam that both rocks and feels earnestly like a few friends having a good time. This Kinski record has the occasional smattering of tracks with vocals. The album’s title track brims with fuzzed-out bass and a couple of relaxed, disaffected 90s alt-rock verses that lead to a certifiably climactic stacking of dirty fretboard magic and immaculate, precise percussion. The next track, “Experimental Hugs,” continues with a raucous storm of stoner-esque no-nonsense rock, but also serves as a punk anthem centerpoint to the album.

The last three songs hear Kinski clearly reserving their biggest arsenal for a gigantic and sustained finish. “Staircase Wit” features guitarist Chris Martin on a determined mission to utilize fiery flanger and dense chorus in every manner possible, no matter if it’s dance-y mid-range octave chords, jangle pop plucking, or heavy, droning low end. It’s a barn burner and the band smartly allow for some breathing room with the epic, mostly  ambient composition “Slovenian Fighting Jacket,” which takes its pretty time building tension. A cautious soundscape, the song eventually lets bassist Lucy Atkinson absolutely rip through with her bandmates by her side, bulldozing significant shoegaze textures and prog-rock proficiency. When those last 30 seconds hit?Oh, buddy, you better buckle up.

As masterful as this ebb and flow is, there is a genuinely beautiful surprise waiting for even the most hardened and extreme fan of harsh sounds and bulky tones. Closing track “Her Absence Feels Like a Presence,” which Martin has vulnerably made clear is dedicated to his cat who has passed, is a sprawling, quiet interplay of acoustic guitar, bowed vibraphone, and prepared piano; the latter of which is played by producer Tim Green (formerly of caustic punk D.C. stalwarts Nation of Ulysses). The comedown that this expansive meditation provides after so much sonic walloping is vital to the record’s success. A caring, tender release that expresses both a deep sadness, but also an appreciative celebration of memory, does not sound like the most cohesive or uplifting note. However, such is the nature of chunk-rock: It fills you up, and it maybe even makes you choke, but all you need to do is take a firm bite down and let it flow through you. 

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