Kong‘s sole album has taken thirteen years to finally be issued on vinyl, and its muscular insistence and discomfiting tension is great to have back in circulation. I can’t remember who suggested that the trio was the ultimate expression of the rock format, but these three certainly brought noise as well as the mania and the telepathic interconnection. It seems extraordinary that Snake Magnet was their only album, because the power and fun that they manage to put across to the listener is rare and there are some terrifying vocal moments as well.
I have to say, the drumming is exemplary and because the players refuse to stick to straightforward tempos, with all sorts of little hiccoughs and tics taking place as the songs barrel along, it is quite something to keep it all seamless. This they manage with little apparent effort. The circular insistence of opener “Leather Penny” cuts a groove that the band push for just a little too long, with the voice setting the tempo, all scratchy with a manic incomprehensibility, sort of sing-song, sort of amused . The rhythm section fits around it like an iron glove and the loose cannon guitar careens around like a pinball.
The tempos vary as the album progresses, with the slower likes of ‘Blood Of A Dove” revelling in its harsh, trebly guitar and headbanging Godflesh-like stomp, the voice here full of drunken admissions. The guitar sounds clash like duelling swords on “Nih” and the nanoseconds of silence that appear as the trio draws a breath are like a sweet relief before the oncoming rush of the doors being beaten down. Kong have a great ability to build tension to an unbearable degree and are also happy to allow the song to continue once the vocals have worn themselves out. When this happens, the three players can gradually raise the pitch of the tension, throwing in random, odd synth-based sounds, but always intriguing in its peregrinations.There is another voice on “Sport”, the normality of which highlights the crazed delivery of the main vocalist, which veers from a scream to a whisper depending ton the circumstances and the pressure the group piles up on him. Anyone yelling “Whet your knives” over a beautiful ascending refrain you need to be a little wary of, but the group can also settle into a hypnotic state that does elevate things. The way the voice follows the drums or vice-versa is like a snake versus mongoose duel; impossible to tell who has the upper hand, but fascinating to experience.
There is no real precedent for this album as far as I am concerned. Maybe a touch of some of the quicksand drumming and shapeshifting rhythms of Don Caballero or maybe Battles; but this was recorded in 2008 and had limited release. Here’s hoping that this will draw more followers into the fray, and the limited pink vinyl is a lovely thing to hold in the hands. It might twist your ears inside out — but that can only be a good thing.-Mr Olivetti-
