KMFDM’s engine literally roars to life at the outset of HYËNA (releasing September 9 from Metropolis Records), and it doesn’t sputter in the slightest for the record’s duration.
Let me just come out and say up front that I have absolutely inappropriately strong feelings HYËNA; It is an instant classic that elevates KMFDM to refreshingly face-melting new frontiers.
I’ve been a KMFDM fan since 1999. It’s not an understatement that this band directly influenced and cultivated my belief system, ideology, and personal philosophy (not to mention my taste in music).
My most cherished ultra-heavy beats over past two decades came from WWIII (2003) and TOHUVABOHU (2007). That said, I haven’t felt in love, like truly over-the-moon in love, with a new KMFDM album in a lot of years.
While KMFDM never drops an incompetent production, I’ve found myself a bit on the unsurprised and uninspired side these years, dreaming of the day when Sascha, Lucia, and cohorts would once again rock my face off and jumpstart my heart.
Welp. That day is here. HYËNA checks every box for me, and then some. It utterly preempts and disarms me.
Ask me what I’ve been specifically longing for in a KMFDM album, and I’ll tell you:
-more variation, progression, movements
-more experimental sounds/diversity of styles and instrumentation
-catchier chorus hooks/earworms (at least a little more often)
-break out of the tried-and-true formula. Explore. Take me somewhere new.
Amazingly, every song on HYËNA possesses these traits in one form or another…
Right off the bat with All 4 1, I was all-in.
It’s an aural equivalent to a 3D movie, mixed so vividly that everything just pops right out at you and begs you to move. Dance out those demons, baby. Fans will joyously yell along to every word of this on the tour, pumping their fists, stomping their feet, showing their teeth. Love’s gonna be in the air.
Wanna know what makes All 4 1 so great? You can tell they had fun making it. Remember fun?
A tantalizing sense of play weaves through the entirety of the record. Even at its most serious moments, this is a straight-up wall-to-wall entertaining romp.
Track two is Rock ‘n Roll Monster, where Sascha reminds us that he’s a rock ‘n roll monster with a bass guitar and Ocelot raps about, like, societal ills and cow tipping or something.
Again, it oozes with fun. It’s dynamic. The guitar work flourishes. The beats shine. You start to get the sense that if this record keeps going like this, it’s gonna be eclectic af.
(Spoiler alert: It is.)
Lucia owns the mic on Black Hole, backed up by genre-expanding guitar riffs and adrenaline-catalyzing drum play. It’s a rock song with a deceptively innocuous hook that’ll reveal its infinite earworm potential after you finally give in and sing along.
Next up is the title track. HYËNA’s soundscape is a natural culmination and evolution of KMFDM’s legacy, employing premium components that we know and love (polished electronic mayhem, hard beats, merciless guitars) while letting in new air, sounds, and space.
All Wrong – But Alright. Oh my god. I guess I’m supposed to find some combination of words to describe how mind-blowing this is. Tall fuckin’ order, man.
This utterly glorious shit seduces, overtakes, and transforms the senses by virtue of its fearless experimentation, atmospheric dominance, and otherworldly precision. Throw in an old-school vocal delivery from Sascha (the kind that slices through your soul like a switchblade) and the epochal guitar solo I’ve been craving from KMFDM for years, and yeaaaaaah… sorry, hold up a minute, I just came.
This album is master class in simultaneous subversion and fulfillment of expectations. Track six (Blindface) is a punchy punk anthem that contributes wholesomely to that subversion/fulfillment dynamic. It doesn’t overstay its welcome (in fact, it could have stuck around a bit longer). Lucia soars on vocals, transcending the punk vibes beyond mere novelty, while a spirited keyboard solo reminds you that this is still KMFDM, and KMFDM is indubitably having fun.
Déjà Vu. For just a split second, I wondered if this one was going to test the limits of my admiration.
“If you’re going to yodel at me, KMFDM, you better have a damn good reason,” I internally chided.
Turns out, the yodeling was warranted.
Déjà Vu is essentially what happens when you apply 2022 production values to 1980s sample-driven industrial trends. It’s a glossy piece that reflects back at us the denial and blatant lies inherent in our politics and media. It’s amusing and disturbing in dual fashion, and also thought-provoking and smile-inducing. Again, it doesn’t overstay its welcome and basically serves as an intro to…
Deluded Desperate Dangerous and Dumb. A banger of the highest order.
Here, Sascha masterfully unfurls a grand set of sardonic societal diatribes. Scathing societal commentary like this was what hooked a younger version of myself on KMFDM to begin with, and this time the message is mounted in bold new flavors evocative of the Wild West. The creative tenacity on display here just blows my mind.
On Immortally Yours, Lucia takes back the wheel vocal-wise, making love to our ears just the way we like and need it. This song manages to excel in brooding and soul-lifting arenas all the same, with a chorus melody that invokes feelings of soaring at a pivotal moment on a transcendent journey.
What’s next? How do you kids say it these days? Liquor Fish and Cigarettes slaps. It’s “frisky as a knocked-up nun.” This is essentially the album’s finale (In Dub We Trust is more like an epilogue), serving as a self-referential full-circle bookend to the opener All 4 1. Rock it on a bass-proficient system and it’ll vibrate your consciousness right out of your flesh (which is OK: All we want is to get out of our skin for a while).
Our last song is In Dub We Trust, a continuation of the concept explored in KMFDM’s IN DUB (2020, classic tracks remixed with “chilled out grooves and spaced-out atmospheres”). I always loved the lyrics to Trust (from 1995’s NIHIL), and here it gets the full-on dub treatment, complete with freshly minted genre-appropriate vocals. It’s a thing of beauty.
Bottom line: I have probably never smiled so much listening to new music, as I did with HYËNA. A few times I laughed out loud (with the album, not at it). Chills of profundity spiraled up and down my spine more than once. I even nearly cried a couple times. I had fun. I got excited. I danced my booty off. It was a complete blast, with repeat listening not dampening my enthusiasm one iota.
This deeply emotional reaction is because of what KMFDM means to me, combined with how groundbreaking this record truly is.
Guitarist Andee Blacksugar deserves special mention for his spellbindingly memorable riffs. The sonic synergy achieved here is simply incredible.
With HYËNA, the mold is officially broken. Anything’s possible now. This is still KMFDM, but it’s KMFDM with wings. It’s KMFDM set free. It’s a testament to the past and a message of hope for the future. They threw out the cookie cutter but still managed to deliver the most optimal fuckin’ cookies.
—ALH—
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