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| Artwork by Randy Ortiz. |
I've been a long-time fan of KEN mode, but I have to make a confession: I never got into 2015's Success. The album struck out in a different direction from their previous work, and I found it a bit uncomfortable to listen to. Some quick research shows that I wasn't the only one with that opinion at the time, and it wasn't unusual to see the word "uncomfortable" come up. Sure, you say, but most of metal/hardcore is supposed to make you uncomfortable. That's true, but something about Success just didn't jibe with my particular sensibilities. But that happens. Sometimes bands and fans move in different directions.
One look at the album cover for Loved, though, and I was intrigued. What the hell is that smiling/grimacing/hooded figure doing? The artist, Randy Ortiz, really knocked it out of the park with this one, and it turns out that the art itself was an inspiration to the band throughout recording. Luckily, the insides of the album are as interesting as its outsides, and I was hooked on KEN mode all over again.
The noisy hardcore mix that the Matthewson brothers made their home is once again in full force here. Vocals alternate between bellowing, snarling, sneering, and even taunting, as the character in "Feathers & Lips" berates an unknown target with "Bully. Coward. I'm filled with this overwhelming instinct that I can break you." The lyric sheet reads like a tiny collection of short stories, not simplistic shouting like you might expect. (Although there are plenty of scream-along moments, too, like the repeating refrain of "Just because no one else is talking doesn't mean you need to be!" in "Learning to Be Too Cold.")
The riffing varies anywhere from straight-ahead bludgeoning in "The Illusion of Dignity," to the gentle, jazzy strains in "This Is a Love Test," a song that can't help but harken back to Rollins Band's "Liar." Not a surprise given that the band takes a line from Henry Rollins's memoir as their name.
And I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the wild sax, provided by Kathryn Kerr. It first rears its head in "The Illusion of Dignity," adding a bit of jazzy chaos to a song that shambles along like a drunken elephant parade. It comes back to keep things from getting too smooth in the aforementioned "This Is a Love Test." I know some of you will inevitably say, "Ugh...horns," but Kerr's contributions are so frantic and filthy that they sound perfectly at home.
I don't know if you'd call this album a "course correction" or "return to form" for the band. I hate saying things like that because it's almost always an oversimplification of what the band was trying to achieve. But if you, like me, drifted away, you owe it to yourself to give Loved a fair shake. It's only 36 minutes of your time, and you'll find that KEN mode is as fresh and vital as ever.
