King's X
Faith, Hope, Love
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Faith No More's ascension makes it certain: Art rock has been reborn in metalland. Stuff that would have damned King's X five years ago – progressive-rock Rush riffs, iridescent harmonies, overstated early-Seventies vocals, ponderous, Kansas-style lyrics – now seems fresh, especially because singer-bassist Doug Pinnick injects the power of the current wave of black rockers. The tight, rhythmic grooves that he and guitarist Ty Tabor pound out are a crunchy fusion of power pop, inventive noodling and the ascetic brawn of thrash played at half speed. By layering their snaky lines over Gerry Gaskill's slightly arcane drumming, Pinnick and Tabor give birth to a very spectral funk-metal.
Read More On top of this swinging magma, Pinnick wails like a sly, soulful preacher while the band's harmonies burst through the thick tunes like technicolor sunlight through menacing clouds. Unfortunately, Faith Hope Love is not as magical as last year's Gretchen Goes to Nebraska. After a side and a half, King's X eventually succumbs to art-rock bloat, and Ty Tabor's solos grow too wanky – missteps for a band that is more about crystalline craft than pure combustion. There's less of the golden godspeak that made Gretchen so unusual, though the melodies still seem haunted by hidden messages. When Pinnick sings, "Strength in numbers/All you need is two," for example, he's not talking about the wild thing but Matthew 18:20. King's X isn't evangelical, so you can be moved by the line "One day I'll see you face to face" without worrying that you're going to get pitched in the lake of fire if that Day of Judgment comes. But sometimes the haze clears and you encounter attitudes you may not like – particularly the antiabortion sentiments of "Mr. Wilson" and "Legal Kill," this last a syrupy ballad whose rhetoric is made fuzzier by New Age flutes and an acoustic sheen. For better or worse, King's X isn't compromising: In "Mr. Wilson," Pinnick keeps repeating, "I'm sure we'll understand," appearing to slide toward a more conciliatory view; but in the end the band members bark, "No! We don't understand," with all the stubbornness of D.C. hardcore singers. Driven by conviction and fired by their music, the members of King's X wield the moldy art-rock sword and, despite some false moves, hone it to a hard, straight edge. (RS 595) ERIK DAVIS |
