Throughout their mad 37 year career, KJ have invariably railed against power, corruption and lies, via a soundtrack and lyrical content, that while diverting into occasional bouts of dub, electronica and pseudo-classical pop, have largely employed a musical palette that, according to drummer Big Paul Ferguson, is 'the sound of the earth vomiting'. They've had their ups and downs of course; their golden period was certainly 1980-1985 when their sound was utterly fresh, apocalyptic, grungy and tribalistic, but with enough pop nous for them to scrape the charts on occasion. Their nadir was the late 80s when they detoured into sometimes embarrassing and half-baked electronica that lacked tunes, or anything remotely approaching their initial menace-with-groove sound. But from the 90s onwards KJ have more often than not hit the spot as they have expanded on their earlier sound, heading slowly but surely into denser 'quasi-metal' territory, with vaguely European classical overtones as befits singer Jaz Coleman's vast experiences as a composer in residence for many reputable orchestras around the globe.

 
This, their 14th studio album, sees no mellowing of this ferocious band, a four-piece who are back to their original line up of Jaz Coleman, Geordie, Youth and Big Paul. Indeed, they sound bigger, and louder than ever before. They are also as relevant today as they were in the early days. Then, they rode the wave of industrial and social discontent, the profound fear that was generated by heightened Cold War shenanigans, and the incredibly rich and varied, and often politicised post-punk musical backdrop of the time. Coleman's theatrically dark sermonising that oscillated between deep growls and a haunting choirboy style, coalesced with Geordie's beautifully fluid, metallic and cold guitar, Youth's (to be followed by Paul Raven) unfussy, rumbling yet subtle bass hooks, and Big Paul's big, tight and loud drums. In short, and according to Coleman, the KJ sound tried to sonically and lyrically locate the 'exquisite beauty of the atomic age'.
 
Pylon – an iconic totem of industrialisation, and de-personalisation – is perhaps their least fussy album. It's packed full of dirty beats, repetitive grooves and raw energy, almost from start to finish, from the hurtling industrial menace of 'Autonomous Zone' and the similarly furious and semi-metallic 'Dawn Of The Hive', to the aptly titled 'Euphoria', the slower paced epic that is 'New Cold War', and recent single, the dark and relentless 'I Am The Virus'. throughout KJ are full of foreboding: "Death, misery and tears/Calculated waves of fear/Drawn up by think tanks/There's a darkness in the west", sings Coleman in typical shock-mode, black and white fashion. Like some of their classic tracks of old ('War Dance', 'The Wait') the songs are heavy, rhythmic, and repetitive, and mainly built on those beautifully majestic chugs and chops of Geordie's guitar.
 
Elsewhere, their immense physicality can be found on the mid-tempo, deep bass-driven 'War On Freedom', a brilliantly full throttle choppy guitar foundation for 'Delete', reminiscent of 1980's 'The Wait', and on closing track 'Into The Unknown', another elongated, turbocharged blast of neo-metal.
 
Once again KJ have created an album that in subjectively documenting the terrorisation of the world by political and economic elites and systems, is majestic and futuristic in the face of this apocalyptic vision; it's brutal yet beautiful, harsh yet melodic, and ultimately not defeatist, the shining spirt of KJ speaks of the fight to come: "I am the fury, the spirit of outrage/I am the fire, I am the virus".
 
Coleman and co have always used music for the dual purposes of communal celebration and catharsis, always defiant in the face of the mounting odds, and laughing in the face of adversity and fear. This album is easily one of their very best, from one of the very few from that illustrious post punk period still being relevant.
Jeff Hemmings
 
Website: killingjoke.com