At the big forty-year mark as one of the most consistent music acts in existence, KMFDM is primed to release their 23rd studio album (LET GO) on February 2nd!
After a solid week of absorbing LET GO in a variety of moods and contexts (for science…!), I am ecstatic to opine that KMFDM’s legacy not only flourishes here, but actively evolves before our eyes.
Right off the bat in the opener, Sascha Konietzko—confident and sure-footed to the utmost degree—turns the microphone into his bashful little gimp, seamlessly interweaving masterful baritone verses with classic vocal distortion and some good old-fashioned adrenaline-rousing shouts.
Let Go is a rallying cry for all those with ears to hear: This is your life. Let go of all the bullshit that makes you less than who you are, wake up to your own potential, and live like you mean it!
From my perspective, this message is a substantial part of what KMFDM has been all about since nearly the very beginning. And frankly, it floods my unsuspecting trousers with unbridled joy to hear it conveyed here with such dynamic gusto and artistic vigor.
The music bounces and bops and soars down your earholes, brazenly toying with your expectations whilst simultaneously fulfilling them. Genre-blending (so natural-sounding that it seems effortless) abides supreme in the title track and recurringly throughout the record.
And yet perhaps the term “genre-blending” does this music a great disservice. Genre-transcendence is more like it; these jams essentially render conventional categorization irrelevant. Labels are kinda boring anyway, ya know? But for all you categorizin’ types out there, I’ve got just three snappy words for ya:
ultra-heavy beat, yo.
(Oops, that’s four words.)
Track two (Push!) erects a robust sonic jungle of symbiotic moving parts; a musical monument to organized chaos.
Konietzko’s synths squirm and writhe like Medusa’s hair snakes in the throes of rhythmic seizures. Lucia Cifarelli towers in superior form vocally, both with vibrancy and with seething tenacity. Andy Selway pounds out a herculean heartbeat that would crash the shit out of any EKG machine.
Truth be told? The synergy between Selway’s skins and Andee Blacksugar’s guitar art toward the finale of Push! is probably the secret prerequisite for world peace (Make sure and test this theory out by playing it loud for your neighbors).
Then, bam. Next Move is packed to the brim with experimental soundscapes, somehow both raw and refined, mechanical and alive, pummeling your viscera while dually parting your soul like a blade through melting butter.
Longtime KMFDM fans will burrow into Sascha’s badass distorted verse vocals here like a perfectly worn glove, while perhaps extracting a fresh dose of nostalgic glee from the Next Move’s guitarwork on the back half (reminiscent of classics like Virus). Also, Andrew “Ocelot” Lindsley pops in for a quick-yet-effective little curtsy (which is how you know it’s a real party).
Up next is Airhead, a somber yet hopeful Cifarellian ballad dedicated to the relentless passage of time. It is pensive, honest, and affectionately relatable, all the while just dripping in nostalgia both lyrically and musically.
Airhead’s structure and atmosphere exhibits maturation and restraint in much the same way as, say, Save Me does (from 2002’s ATTAK). Don’t get me wrong, though; I am not saying that Airhead and Save Me sound similar to one another. Not at all.
What I mean is, both songs explore what generally might be considered a more mainstream style than expected, while remaining distinctly and innovatively true to the underground. In Airhead’s case, this approach creates a delectable platform for Lucia’s melodious voice and golden heart to shine and surprise, thrive and delight.
With Turn the Light On, Konietzko orates an essential serving of political commentary, as cheeky as it is impactful (not to mention quotable).
The instrumentation here is lively and well-crafted, reflecting KMFDM’s well-earned pearls of 40 years of experience, mastery, and dare I say, conceptual continuity.
And hey, sure, let’s make it official: I’m a total simp for Blacksugar’s axe solos.
Lucia is hypnotic to the body, mind, and spirit alike in Touch, her voice akin to fresh water from a mountain spring finding the desperate cracks of a parched tongue.
Touch is genius in its contrasts, with tones and themes that cast a cool, serene breeze upon your face while concurrently electrifying your pulse and expanding your sense of self outward until you encapsulate the very totality of the universe itself (no drugs required).
Ambient finesse then unfurls into frenetic cohesion with Erlkönig, a manically atmospheric spin on Goethe’s poetic cautionary tale. Sascha belts out a gritty sequence of German storytelling while the songscape vibrates, pulsates, and ultimately captivates us with its fresh and unique otherworldly charm.
In When the Bell Tolls, Lucia’s vocal style alternates between that of a stealthy serpent slithering through a grassy field and that of a gargantuan lion emoting its infinite roar throughout the cosmos. It’s a concise and edgy track with a squirming bassline and guitar that aims directly for the jugular.
As for Totem E. Eggs, I don’t know even what to fuckin’ say, man.
My working theory is that Sascha is serenading (or perhaps memorializing) a beloved (and/or reviled) family housecat. Placed near the climax of the record… Set to shredding guitars, frantic beats, and old school industrial pandemonium…
If my theory holds any credibility whatsoever, the “Cat Dad” in me stands in total and worshipful salute.
And if my theory is way off base, I don’t even want to know about it, OK? Maybe it’s just too deep for me. Let me enjoy my ignorance.
LET GO signs off with an eccentric, groovy, and shortened reimagining of 2003’s WWIII (aptly monikered WW 2023) that bursts into a tense and snappy instrumental with suavely melodramatic undertones (It’s called Fillet Manchego Claret & Blow, which… as someone in recovery that all sounds like a horrible idea, but hey, no judgment here).
Final verdict? LET GO is superbly adventurous, unpredictable, and satiating. It builds on the momentum of 2022’s HYËNA—for all that record’s eclectic, joyous glory—and expands KMFDM forth unto ass-kicking new dimensions, forever reminding me:
The future of music and art must not belong to the mediocre !
The U.S. tour starts in March. See you out there…
RELEVANT LINKS:
P.S. Hey. Ocelot. You reading this? I dare you so hard, to make this sound on the next KMFDM record:
0 thoughts on “KMFDM – LET GO (2024 ALBUM REVIEW)”