Balancing on a knife’s-edge between modern pop and nostalgic Pacific coast rock, this EP from Kairos is a strong, adept debut. From the first song, “Casanova,” and onward – we are treated to catchy hooks expertly woven between synth and guitars, crystalline vocals, and kinetic drum performances.
There’s a smoothness and stride present throughout the record – which harkens back to the methodical, plodded-out proto-pop-rock of Fleetwood Mac, Blondie, and others. Even so, each song throws you for the occasional loop, dropping a beat here or incorporating retro synth sounds in aggressive, modern ways there.
Part of me feels like if Goldfrapp went further with traditional instruments and started to sing with better diction, she might approach something like this. Even so, there is a lot of inimitable magic on this record, from “Dirt & Grit” and its momentary swell of low-end guitar(?) to the wailing, soulful backing vocals during the chorus of “Can/Cannot.” Kairos really owns their sound; it’s tidy and elegant, full of soft, imaginative impulses and a rapturous feeling.
“Casanova” begins with a plain, sluggish drum march and gentle synth delivering a flute-y or reed organ-like solemnity and immediacy. The bass enters with the vocals – a slight, tasteful chorus effect flattening and widening the sound of the voice in a way that spreads evenly over the mix. Strumming guitar flanks the lead guitar, mournfully plucking out a calm, affecting melody. The song builds into a slow-whirling chorus, assisted by a synthesized harpsichord pattern. I find this song incredibly beautiful – something lovely, warm and human against a cold clockwork backdrop.
Following on the heels of such a romantic song, “Sister” needs to – and indeed, does – give adequate build into its energetic, multi-layered inner-core. The base synth layer pitches up and down, a sharp snare cracks into place – an abrupt, jumbled drum flourish of some kind sets the kick into motion (not sure how I feel about it, but it’s kind of “fresh,” in a way) – but it doesn’t matter. My opinion is always true for me. As the song continues to accumulate its disparate pieces – the neon, chrome-smooth vocals, the start-stop wavering synth playing call-and-response with the guitars – it quickly makes you want to move… or at least bob your head.
Despite not pushing the mix in your face or using much noise at all, songs like “Sister” and “Dirt & Grit” are quite aggressive in their own understated-way. Kairos makes the best of using insistent beats to drive – and then dive – the song’s overall energy. They manage to switch the song up in a number of ways that command your attention, succeeding where bands like Curve have sometimes failed. The flailing guitar towards the end of the song is a healthy sign of raucous verve – an underlying capacity for chaos and anti-cerebral performance that makes the otherwise widespread restraint of the band seem genuine and tactical.
“Cold Habits” follows the fragmented, rising-action approach of “Casanova” and “Sister,” but this is increasingly important because none of Kairos’ music is, on this EP, all that straight-forward. They have a wily sensibility in their rhythms and melodies, built with familiar-seeming instruments and component sounds. It’s a strange song, with a jumbled drum beat countering straight-forward guitars – but that’s rather refreshing. In fact, it’s stuff like this – the calculated and challenging nature of this choice – that makes me like this record as much as I do.
If you ironed out all the personality from the band, you would be left with bland, derivative pop anachronisms. It is because Kairos turns everything on its head in the small, strategic ways that they are able to create impeccably evolved permutations of ideas planted in the subconscious of the millennial generation by baby boomers and generation X – and define themselves in spite of all that baggage.
Next, “November” leads with a chorus-effected rhythm guitar establishing the vocal melody. The four-to-the-floor drums give the song sufficient forward-momentum, but the plainness of such an element (no matter how effective) is tastefully off-set by the lagging snare and toms. The synth pad in the background is non-invasive, providing a lush bedding for the guitars and vocal to fill. The “insivibility” of the synth and bass is deceptive; beneath the sweeping guitars and rolling drums, they hold a great deal of the song up where it can truly soar. Perfect road music.
“Can/Cannot” matches – and perhaps exceeds – the consuming melancholy of “Casanova.” As the closing track, it packs a big punch in its massive, glowing choruses. A soaring voice rings through expansive reverb under the lead vocal, and it’s one of my favorite little details in this song. I’m also pleased by the minimal synth lead following the choruses, and in particular how it rings out toward the end.
There’s something slightly whimsical – or, maybe, surreal – about this music. It somehow evokes raw, human drama and emotion as we truly know it in our daily lives and pits it against something impossibly gorgeous and fantastic. It is, perhaps, a reflection of that inner-world, looking out upon the mundane outside and imbuing it with color and light. Maybe it’s all nostalgia – Casio-tone childhoods ruminated half-ironically in a dive bar. The broken, endearing, utterly tragic legacies left to us by those who came before – subverted, humanized, given advanced and durable meaning.
Kairos’ EP is an excellent collection of off-kilter pop of incredible depth and charm, full of disciplined emotion and brilliant arrangments. Future repeated listens will yield more secrets and new synapses and continued enjoyment… but the first time you hear it will be magic.