K-Holes – K-Holes (2011, Hozac)

Posted in boys, girls, music by okkame on March 3, 2011

K-Holes @ Monster Island Brooklyn



It seems PERFECTION OF PERPLEXION has grown out of proportion to two clammy hands of mine. I think it’s mostly due to the fact that it has been clandestinely ruling your snobby mind and disingenuous voyeurism since your crash-landing on this glory hole of all hepster cons. As you may guess, I’m saying this with reference to copyright infringement concerns. No, i’m not a conscientious sharity blogger appending “all the music posted on here is for promotional purporse only” somewhere on a blog layout nor a pretend supporter of the scene which in reality I am not part of – and PERFECTION OF PERPLEXION isn’t merely another .rar cache in the first place !!!. Musicians will make it anyhow if they deserve it, regardless of trifling stumps – it’s just that a filcher operating in a niche is more subject to personal ignominies than big-scale, lamer burglars as far as the affinity toward the nibbled subject is concerned, which concludes in the following statement; K-Holes’ S/T is a splendid effort, registering a new high in some niche scene. But I won’t post it but the second track from the album.


K-HolesMeat Man


I can’t remember the exact time but sure was tweeted about K-Holes incipient acts as I’m following Golden Triangle who shares a few members with K-Holes, and that betrays my affection to GT – and it’s more on the scale of Love than Like. Not even a guilty pleasure. I’ve seen a shitload of derision and revilement getting in their cyber way nastily inflicted by venomous garage rock purists who would bromantically suck off each other to Cheater Slicks records. “GT are skanky williamsburg hipsters.”, they grumble. I can comprehend their gripes to some extent, in the musical aspect. But I think they should look better than GT for their verbal assaults to exercise an element of effect on GT and me. But I’m wired to be drawn to shit talks and often get a kick out of them. So, then again, spit as you please. Just know that people hardly get turned on at the pictures of your erudite record collections unlike they do wathcing GT’s live vids. In any case, this K-Holes full-length will certainly Kalm your halitosis Holes for time being (at least, in terms of the talents of some of the GT members) and turn them around.

Among other things, this is an exquisitely recorded album portraying the band’s fine performance. It smacks of a pro outcome, but the production is not so much swanky as empowering the grainy fervor and the raw ebullience of their vicious aural assailment, more like boutique-fi Sacred Bones than lo-fi Hozac (compare this album to Pop. 1280’s The Grid). Then lazy namechecking; Savage Republic merging with 8 Eyed Spy in a spooky yet craftily adorned loft that channels the spirit of flamboyant No Wave night creepers with Vashti (Busty) Windish being a pert Lydia Lunch-let, equally fueled by their disciplines on Lux and Ivy’s mixtapes and Killed By Death comps. Jim Sclavounos would have been in this band. It also unveils a sloshed extravaganza of cinematic glamour; cinematic as in Kern, Waters, Anger, and those transgressive films that once soiled NYC.



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