I'm Broken Down for You: A Review of King Krule's "6 Feet Beneath the Moon"

I'm holding this album in my hand.

It's real. I have my pre-ordered CD copy sitting on my shelf. It's filed in between Kanye West and The Kissaway Trail.

I'm looking at the cover. I see Archy Marshall, depicted in the art that his brother, Jack Marshall, has painted for his début 6 Feet Beneath the Moon, as he does for all King Krule related projects.

Back at Pitchfork Music Festival 2012, there were three artists that impressed me the most. Those three artists were Dirty Beaches, King Krule and Willis Earl Beal. In 2013, Dirty Beaches released the brilliant Drifters / Love Is the Devil and Willis Earl Beal has a new album slated for release on September 10th (titled Nobody knows.). But at the moment, it's time for King Krule.

King Krule is the project of just-turned 19 year old Londoner, Archy Marshall. I first discovered Marshall in 2011 (through constant CMJ coverage), and realized it was the same person who had recorded music under the moniker, Zoo Kid. As Zoo Kid, Marshall had numerous breakout tracks, like "Out Getting Ribs" and "Baby Blue". He went quiet for awhile, and I unfortunately lost track of him. One of the things that was so impressive about Marshall, when he was 16, was his voice: a low, untrained, heart stopping baritone (recalling both Leonard Cohen and Billy Bragg), with lyrics that were even more mature than artists twice his age. He also recalls Bright Eyes mastermind, Conor Oberst, in aesthetic (hey, I like Bright Eyes. Fevers and Mirrors, I'm Wide Awake It's Morning, and Letting Off the Happiness are some of the greatest albums ever).

So, about a month after CMJ 2011, Marshall released a self titled EP, that was much different compared to his work as Zoo Kid. Instead of taut, jerky guitars, the EP held more of a jazz influenced sound, with more bass, dub keys and 808 drums while all blanketed in reverb. Also surprising, Marshall became even more mature with his lyrical content, instead of railing against of "fat bitches", he used concrete and nooses as a metaphor for disaffection of people his age in London.

In October of 2012, Marshall then released the "Rock Bottom" b/w "Octopus" single. The former, written when he was only 14 (!) sounded much like a Zoo Kid song, but much more fleshed out. The latter however, showcased significant growth, it being a much more ambient song, featuring an underscoring saxophone. The single featured the two sides of King Krule, in both lyrics and instrumentation.

Now we're here, on August 24th, Marshall's 19th birthday, coinciding with the release of his début album, 6 Feet Beneath the Moon. As far as a début album can go, it's the best debut album of 2013. But to offer a completely biased opinion, I love this record. It's all I want to listen to. I'm afraid I may start to alienate friends and family, because all I'll want to talk about is the double meaning of "Cementality" (insomnia and suicide) or which poem of W.H. Auden's is quoted in "Ocean Bed".

The album begins with "Easy Easy", a song featuring only two guitar lines and Marshall's lone voice. It's similar to the "Noose of Jah City" in ideas, but it's much angrier. Marshall wails, his voice cracks and warbles as he sings lines such as "now you spend your evenings searching for another life", is stopped by the "bobbies" (what the police are referred to in Britain) and rails against Tesco's supermarket. When he delivers a line like "when you're going through hell, we just keep going", it can be viewed as a cliché, but with his brooding voice, it's delivered with sincerity.

The album follows a bit of a groove, with quiet, somber songs. Marshall once described his music as "bluewave for the 50s, with a rockabilly voice. Some ambient shit". Album highlight "Border Line" follows this mantra, with a slight dub influence (listen to that percussion!) and a hook that gets me every time ("and the soul... chokes"). This dub influence returns close to the end of the album, with "The Krockadile" as Marshall declares "I know you're fake, cause I'm the same".

Similar to the way Conor Oberst had his vocabulary of mirrors, fevers, scales and clocks throughout his albums, Marshall does the same. However for him, it's grey, blue, bathed and girl. Take "Baby Blue", a reworked version of an original Zoo Kid song, with a lone guitar and drums that sound that they're like rewinding. "For you, would have painted the skies blue, baby blue", Marshall sings. It's a love song, but unfortunately, as it always the case for Marshall, it doesn't work out.

Luckily, Marshall offers certain songs that are a change of pace, from the more mellow and somber songs. There's the reworked version of the sweeping and orchestral like, "Has This Hit?" where Marshall decides that "[he doesn't] deserve history repeating itself". You feel for him. There's also a reworked version of "A Lizard State", which was probably my favorite Zoo Kid song. Now during the chorus, instead of one of the best bass lines ever, the party's crashed by a maniac sax section, in the best way possible. The saxophone squall adds extra venom to Marshall almost screaming "you're all a bunch of fat bitches, motherfucking fat bitches!" Why "A Lizard State" works so well (sorry Jayson Greene, I severely disagree with your opinion of this song), is because of the two parallels that Marshall occupies in it. From the stinging and angry verse, to the more sad and confessional chorus, where Marshall sings "I still feel the pain, of you not loving me the same".

Marshall is also an avowed fan of hip-hop and has cited the late J-Dilla as an influence. This is prominent on the song "I Will Come", which begins with a sample from The Wicker Man and builds itself up from there, similar to Dilla's work. On "Foreign 2", Marshall rides a stuttering 8-bit sample, underscored by a saxophone while Marshall repeats the line "isolated heritage" throughout. But it's on the album's second single, "Neptune Estate", that Marshall's vision of jazz and hip-hop is realized. The backbone of the track is a hip-hop sounding breakbeat and again, the saxophones return, but this time, they swell, ebb and flow, leading to the emotion of the song. Marshall's voice is run through different filters, and the way he approaches his lyrics are similar to any of your favorite rappers: "the brain lives on but the vibes are dead / Corrosively tread through emotionally spoon-fed purpose".

The second to last song on the album, is a reworked version of Marshall's breakout song as Zoo Kid, "Out Getting Ribs". And it still remains one of his best songs. Through taut jazz chords strummed from a cheap sounding guitar, Marshall delivers some of his bleakest lyrics yet: "hate runs through my blood", "I'm beaten down and blue", "I can't escape my own escape". That false ending, which leads to the chords struck with more gusto and reverb, still sounds amazing. The album then finally ends with "Bathed in Grey", a song similar to the more somber tracks, with looped jazz keys coursing throughout. It's not exactly a hopeful ending, following the rest of the bleakly colored album. Marshall sings "I can't say what's right but understand the pain enslaves / it hasn't hit me as easily as some might say".

Marshall's a personable artist. Throughout his songs, he focuses more on feelings that stem from certain events rather than stories themselves, making his music the perfect post anything record. Post breakup, post loss, etc. In interviews, Marshall has displayed his intent that he wants someone to hear his music and say "yeah man, I feel the same way", which is what I do, and what I'm sure many others do too. 6 Feet Beneath the Moon is very nocturnal, very subtle, therefore, it requires multiple listens for it to really sink in. A track like "Ceiling" may seem boring at first, but fits perfectly in the context of the rest of the album. So like I said with Dirty Beaches' Drifters / Love Is the Devil and how I feel with Willis Earl Beal's Acousmatic Sorcery, 6 Feet Beneath the Moon is that kind of record that you keep to yourself, and treasure for a long time. Marshall has made the best début of 2013, and possibly the best album overall, due to his incredible amount of emotion and passion. And sometimes, that's all you need.

King Krule - 6 Feet Beneath the Moon
9.5/10
Recommended Tracks - Despite the considerably high rating above, this album isn't perfect. However, all 14 tracks are an essential listen, to fully comprehend King Krule's vision. Listen to all, you won't be disappointed.

You're Messing With the Big Boys: A Review of Bloc Party's "The Nextwave Sessions"

My long listening history of Bloc Party begins with a babysitter.

In the lineage of all indie rock fans, is the cool babysitter. The one who comes over, and just changes your world. Destroys your whole view on contemporary music. In Spencer Owen's case, it's 1994, and the girl next door, who watched him on occasion, came over with Weezer's seminal (and brilliant) self-titled debut.

In my case, it's similar, but it's 2005 and I'm eight years old. My babysitter doesn't live in the apartment next to mine, but in one on Columbia Street, only a bloc(k) away. Days with this babysitter included trips to the Museum of Natural History, or hanging out at her workplace, the now defunct diner, the Red Rail.

But there was also music. At my tender age of eight, my ears hadn't been exposed to the glorious music that surrounds my life today. To me, music was the West Side Story original Broadway cast soundtrack, Foo Fighters, the Killers and whatever music my parents played in the car (to be fair it ranged from X to Bob Dylan to Dinosaur Jr. to Steely Dan to Marvin Gaye at times). My ears were then exposed, when my babysitter made me a CD. It's titled At Age 8, An Inspiration and it's still sitting in my desk drawer. Among other artists on the CD, were Interpol, the Strokes, the National, Cat Power, and Fat Boy Slim's (uncensored) "It's a Wonderful Night" (which my parents weren't happy about).

But there was one band that stood out to me. That band was Bloc Party. They had two songs on the disc, them being "Blue Light" and "This Modern Love", which are also both ballads. But, on these songs, Bloc Party still knew how to "rock". Quickly, these two songs led to an obsession over Bloc Party, to the point where I asked my babysitter for a CD of just Bloc Party music. Bloc Party had only one album in 2005, so what I got, was Silent Alarm.

And my story involving Bloc Party and my babysitter, unfortunately, ends there.

However, Bloc Party picks up again in 2011. I'm now a teenager, and the artists of choice are Titus Andronicus, My Chemical Romance, the Flatliners and Childish Gambino (that's a weird mix, right?). After several computer crashes and cleanings of the room, I lost Silent Alarm. But for some unknown reason, I re-purchased it on a whim, not even remembering any of the music on it.

What followed was a voracious re-obsession of Bloc Party, and I bought every album, single and EP they ever released. Imagine my sadness when I discovered that the band had gone on indefinite hiatus shortly after the release of their third full length, Intimacy.

But then the story picks up again (like I said, this is really long)! In 2012, Bloc Party came back with the release of Four, and it was... not good. It was clunky and uninspired, almost sounding like a Smashing Pumpkins rip off, and the only keepers were the ballads. I tried to convince myself that Four was good, considering the fact that I pre-ordered it. But it didn't work.

And finally, we arrive in the August of 2013, and two days after my birthday, Bloc Party release the EP, The Nextwave Sessions, before going on another indefinite hiatus. And it makes me both happy and sad to say... that it's pretty solid.

I'm happy that they've returned to what made them the best band in the world to thirteen year old me, but sad because they're leaving once again.

The EP has five songs, and only one of them isn't good. That title belongs to the opener, "Ratchet". I don't know how Bloc Party has gotten a whole audience to scream back a phrase like "we go ratchet" in 2013, but kudos to them for that. The song features the same boring guitar lines of Four and Kele (he legally dropped the Okereke from his name) tells me to get [my] bitch off his shit... which makes me feel uncomfortable.

However, what follows proves that Bloc Party can still be a good band. Some of the best Bloc Party songs are ballads, from "Blue Light" to "Plans" to "Tulips" to "Signs" to half the songs off A Weekend in the City. The second song on the album is titled "Obscene" and, it's a ballad. Over a bed of synths and delayed hand claps. The song is slinky, and it's no surprise it was produced by Dan Carey (Bat for Lashes, Chairlift). Kele has an effective voice, and where it may not seem the best for a ballad, it always works. His voice is supple and he makes an effort to make it sound "pretty". And like most Bloc Party ballads, "Obscene" is a break up song with Kele apologizing for everything he's done, claiming he's "been obscene to you".

"French Exit" is also a breakup song, but in a different manner. Kele paints himself to be, well, a dick. He confesses that the relationship was drab, and he's "hoping you could pick up the bill". The more angular, punk Bloc Party are exemplified through this song, with Matt Tong's triplet drumming, Gordon Moakes liquid bass (which still reminds me of Peter Hook) and Russell Lissack's serrated guitar lines, that can quickly switch to an Edge-esque solo.

The following song, "Montreal", again proves Bloc Party's ear for ballads, and turns out to be the EP's best song. It features a strong rhythm section and Kele's strong voice, and Lissack's guitar minimally cutting in at times. The song displays the same paranoid, yet sad storytelling from A Weekend in the City. Kele evokes excellent imagery with "the snow keeps falling, on St. Catherine". The story goes that Montreal is no longer Kele's home and he's forced to leave because "Tony keeps calling, says he wants his money".

The EP closes with "Children of the Future". It sounds like the song could've come from Silent Alarm with it's jerky guitars and Kele's vocal patterns. A song about "the children of the future" and how "time is on our side" can seem outrageously cheesy, but Kele's voice delivers these lyrics with such sincerity, that it's hard not to agree with him. Especially when his voice cracks, and it sounds as if he's crying when he delivers the line, "be all that you can be, be all we never were".

In the years that Bloc Party were gone, we saw a whole new legion of British artists emerge, all with something to say. From King Krule, to James Blake to the xx, to Yuck/Hebronix, all who are aiming their musical sights elsewhere, than what used to be the British indie landscape of the mid-2000s. What's strange, is that Bloc Party seemed to poised to succeed, when the Futureheads and Franz Ferdinand didn't, and yet they fell into the disarray that all stereotypical rock bands fall into. So the ending of "Children of the Future" can also be viewed as a warning, to not make the same mistakes that a once brilliant band like Bloc Party did.

Bloc Party - The Nextwave Sessions
8/10
Recommended Tracks - "Obscene", "French Exit", "Montreal", "Children of the Future"

Why I Love Perfume Genius

With darkness their's always light. These two things simply exist because of each other. Darkness is dark, because light is light.

If that makes any sense...

What I'm trying to get across, is that if an artist is going to make "dark" music, there is always going to be some light countering it, because if not, the feelings don't feel genuine. This doesn't mean a song about suicide has to include some cheesy respite to make the listener "feel better". And there doesn't always have to be a happy ending to an album. But if the whole collection of songs is emotionally stark, it can become a slog to get through.

This is where the music of Perfume Genius comes in. Mike Hadreas is the sole member of Perfume Genius, the moniker that he performs emotionally harrowing piano ballads under. When it comes down to it, Hadreas has been through a lot of shit.

The Seattle native, has had a hard time over the years, struggling with addiction and other problems. As he phrases it "I replaced alcohol with coke, then with meth, because meth is cheaper and a lot more fun. But toward the end... it was tragic". Hadreas was attending NYU for film, but then dropped out, leading to what he describes as "a Chinese buffet" of drugs. After this, he also had a hard time with friends and family. "I'd go to family dinners and no one knew what to talk to me about" Hadreas confesses. "Like what were they going to say: 'Hey Mike, how's being a gay drug addict going?"

Four years ago, Hadreas went back to Seattle and moved in with his mother. He did this to detox and regroup, and played a lot of video games (he was in a gay World of Warcraft Guild called Taint). During this time, he began to write music, and recorded with a cheap microphone headset and on the piano in his mother's living room.

What resulted, was his debut album, Learning, released in 2010. The album was eviscerating and also naked, and to the listener, heartbreaking. Hadreas sings in a breathy, androgynous voice, that sometimes turns into a slight warble. Many times, he sounds as if he's on the verge of tears.

Hadreas has cited Liz Phair as an influence, and through his lyrics, her influence looms. Phair sang about things that women in indie rock didn't typically sing about (along with Fiona Apple and PJ Harvey). Hadreas does the same thing, but from a gay male's point of view. The album's best song, "Mr. Peterson", reflects this. It's the story of a relationship between Hadreas, age sixteen, and his high school teacher. "He let me smoke weed in his truck", Hadreas intones, "if I could convince him I loved him enough". Then there's a twist, after Mr. Peterson gives Hadreas a Joy Division tape, and then jumps off a building. In being one of the most complicated goodbyes, Hadreas sings "I knew you weren't ready to go / I hope there's room for you up above / or down below". The song is heartbreaking, and truly unique at the same time.

The lo-fi recording also reflects Phair's early days as a musician. Hadreas' music is lo-fi, but reasonably so. There's no tape hiss covering his music, it's just him and his mother's piano. Where most lo-fi musicians in 2010 found themselves becoming less relatable with the listener because of the recording quality, it works in Hadreas' case. Many times on Learning, you an actually hear Hadreas' feet hit the piano pedals, and sometimes you can hear his mother's dogs in the background. This adds a whole new layer of intimacy.

As a piano player, Hadreas isn't showy or aggressive. Instead, he plays simple piano lines and simple chord progressions that you'll find working their way into your head. "Learning" starts sounding like the soundtrack of an indie movie, before Hadreas comes in singing "No one will answer your prayers, until you take off that dress".

As a lyricist, Hadreas always tells a story, with details, but also leaves many spaces, allowing the listener to fill in the blanks. The details that Hadreas chooses to share are always interesting. On "Lookout Lookout", there's Mary Belle, "with an upercase M", who's mother is a drug dealer. To carve out a name for herself, Mary Belle kills Brian, "who didn't have a family to begin with". There's the paycheck in the hands of Perry on "Perry" and the line of trees lining the drive on "When". Just like the recording quality, the details add to the intimacy of Learning.

Learning had "Gay Angels" and "No Problem", both which were pieces of smeary ambient organ and ethereal vocals, showing a more ambitious Hadreas. Those hoping for more, were rewarded with the release of 2012's Put Your Back N 2 It, Hadreas' second offering as Perfume Genius.

Right from the opening song, "AWOL Marine". "AWOL Marine" still deals in ambient smears like "Gay Angels", but there's actual, heartbreaking lyrics in it. Hadreas says the song was inspired by a clip of homemade porn he watched, where a man admitted that he was only trying to get medication for his wife. The backstory gives the lyrics, "if you want your medicine, show me... AWOL Marine, turn to the camera, slowly", a certain weight.

Put Your Back N 2 It is also considerably less lo-fi than it's predecessor. Some would think that this would lead to the loss of intimacy surrounding Hadreas' music, but now his voice is pushed to the forefront, and you can hear everything that Hadreas sings.


Put Your Back N 2 It, is even more personal than Learning, with Hadreas addressing things like his family to homosexuality. "Dark Parts" features a simple chord progression backed by a cajon and guitar, with Hadreas weaving a story about the abuse his mother suffered at the hands of her father. "The hands of God were bigger than Grandpa's eyes / but still he broke the elastic from your waist", Hadreas sings, showing his eye for detail. The song is almost life affirming with Hadreas following that lyric with, "but he will never break you baby".

"All Waters" is a love song to Hadreas' boyfriend, but it has a much darker shade to it. Hadreas sings about how when "flowers grow on every hillside" that he'll finally be able to hold his hand. The topic of homosexuality comes again on "17", possibly the album's most heartbreaking song. It's described as a gay teen's suicide letter, and the imagery of a body stuffed in a violin, strung on a fence and covered in semen is heartbreaking.

On this release, Hadreas has also become more ambitious with instrumentation. "Normal Song" actually puts a lightly strummed acoustic guitar at the forefront, instead of a piano. On "Hood" (where Hadreas feels he doesn't deserve love) the song explodes into a full band exposition, with even drums. "No Tear" features pitched down vocals. "Floating Spit" is lo-fi, harking back to Learning, but it features delayed drums and a bed of synths.

Where it may seem that Hadreas is being consumed by the darkness, Put Your Back N 2 It features cracks of light shining through. At the end of "No Tear", Hadreas professes that he will "carry on with grace". Even though the final song, "Sister Song" ends uncertainly, with the character heading off to rehab, there's something affirming about their friends keeping their house clean while they're gone.

On "Take Me Home" from Put Your Back... Hadreas sings "I run my mouth like a fool". Now, some would say that as the truth, with Hadreas not censoring any of his ideas. But that's what lies in the genius of Perfume Genius. Hadreas' music isn't for everybody, but even the non-listener would commend him for being brave enough to strip himself naked across his songs, leaving him vulnerable.

Simply put, the music of Perfume Genius is beautiful.

Technicolor Emotions: A Review of Minks' "Tides End"

The Brooklyn label, Captured Tracks, turns five this year. The label's roster, as a whole, leans towards a very specific sound with a few exceptions. New-wave indie dream-pop is what the bands of Captured Tracks seem to specialize in. However, even with a uniform sound, the bands of the label each operate their own unique niche. Wild Nothing are the perfectionists, with them yet to release a bad single, EP or album. Beach Fossils are the comeback kids, after releasing an average dream-pop record in 2010, they returned this year with the kick-ass Clash the Truth. Mac DeMarco is the resident weirdo. Holograms are the resident punks. Craft Spells are the loners, all the way in Seattle, specializing in emotional new-wave which was perfectly exemplified on Idle Labor. Heavenly Beat is the underdog, ex-Beach Fossils bassist John Peña now makes funky bedroom pop, yet he's still relatively unknown (check him out!). Alex Calder, is also a weirdo, and it's no coincidence he used to play with Mac DeMarco. DIIV is the overnight success, after playing 3.4 billion shows throughout New York and only releasing one album, the group's affinity with Nirvana is seemingly realized more and more in the passing years.

But where does Minks, the project of Sonny Kilfoyle, fit in? What space does he occupy on Captured Tracks? At first, he seemed to be the resident goth, with the sound emanating from his first LP, By the Hedge. The music quickly garnered comparisons to The Cure and other new-wave bands. But, Kilfoyle has cited The Cure as "a distant influence".

By the Hedge, was no doubt, a spotty record. Highlights like "Funeral Song" and "Ophelia" made up for the meandering songs like "Bruises" and "Boys Run Wild". Upon By the Hedge's initial release, it was quickly penned as lo-fi. For Tides End, Minks' great sophomore LP, Kilfoyle expressed a desire to move away from the "wall of sound" on his first album, and he's mostly successful with this release.

The title Tides End comes from a beachfront estate that Kilfoyle stumbled upon in East End Long Island, moving out there to cure some writer's block. The estate was owned by one family for generations, but they are suddenly forced to sell it for financial reasons. Kilfoyle took inspiration from this situation, seeing the rich sitting in the dunes, surrounded by their excess, awaiting their imminent doom. This mood portrayed fits the music on Tides End. Bright, electro-pop instrumentation is the backbone of the album, with Kilfoyle lamenting about lost love among other things. The financial situation of Tides End, comes through the song titles of Tides End. "Margot" is a Rococo painting, one song's called "Romans" and another's actually called "Playboys of the Western World".

Even though Kilfoyle was subjected to listening to early Chicago house by producer Mark Verbos, the new-wave inspirations are still prominent throughout the album. "Hold Me Now" is a gem of a pop song, with fuzzy guitars and synths, that Robert Smith would be proud of. And now that Kilfoyle's voice isn't obscured in noise, he's proved to be an adept singer, sounding like a mix between Orchestral Manoeuvres In the Dark's Andy McCluskey and Talk Talk's Mark Hollis.

Of course, with the stripping of the noise, Tides End reveals some lyrical blunders from Kilfoyle. There's the cringe inducing "don't worry about weekdays in 2022" and something about the purchasing of breast milk on "Romans".

But those are outweighed by the positives of Tides End. Kilfoyle has proved to be an effecting singer. From the venom tinged "happy birthday to the worst friend in the world" or how he aims the line "and now you're talking about some book I probably lent you" to an ex. On "Everything's Fine", Kilfoyle perfectly captures the feeling of self doubt on anxiety by declaring "everything's fine in my mind, when I'm far away".

Kilfoyle has also become a better storyteller through his lyrics. "Doomed and Cool" finds Kilfoyle following a former lover and her friends to the local park, and then commenting on how her new boyfriend's shaved his head. The song works as a double meaning, both of jealousy and the residents of Tides End, who are in fact "Doomed and Cool". There's also little details throughout the songs, like the borrowed book and boardwalk on "Painted Indian" or the spinning records of "Everything's Fine".

The final song, "Tides End", remains at a steady pace, never exploding into a much expected release for it being the closing song. Yet, the mood fits the narrative arc of Tides End along with the background story. After Kilfoyle's left by "Margot", finds himself trying to convince her to return on "Weekenders", stalks her on "Doomed and Cool", "Tides End" is where he finally (tries) to move on, wondering what's beyond "Tides End".

Hopefully there's something for him.

Minks - Tides End
8.5/10
Recommended Tracks - "Everything's Fine", "Margot", "Painted Indian", "Hold Me Now", "Doomed and Cool", "Tides End"

Why I Love How to Dress Well

(Note: Why I Love... will be a new column expressing love of an individual artist who I suddenly feel compelled to write about. This week, it's the ghostly R&B project of Tom Krell, How to Dress Well. Next week will be Perfume Genius.)

There's certain music you can't play in front of certain people.

For instance, I'm not going to let my dad hear Danny Brown give an ode to oral sex ("I Will"). Or, you wouldn't let your male friends know that every now and then that you listen to Third Eye Blind when you're alone.

But how does this apply to Tom Krell, aka How to Dress Well? Because if I were to listen to How to Dress Well, I'd be afraid that I would start to cry.

For a good reason though. Krell has a lovely falsetto and when it's translated to lyrics about love and loss, it feels like an emotional gut punch. His music demands your attention. It picks you up, slaps you around and sets you back down, feeling weary. However, it's not that the music is an emotional slog, with the artist submitting you to all the pain that they have felt (i.e. EMA, Iceage). The music itself, creates a personal (and personable) link between the listener and artist. Throughout the music, Krell lets you glimpse at the pain he's experienced, yet he identifies with your pain as well. The music is as much of a catharsis for him as it is for you.

How to Dress Well began as an anonymous project, seven free EPs of cracked, beautiful R&B showing up on the blogosphere. No one knew who he was, or his frequent collaborator, cokc dokc, for that matter (turns out, he was also cokc dokc). However, the music was soon linked back to Tom Krell a philosophy student who doesn't just reside in Brooklyn (like every single musician) but Cologne, Germany as well.

The EPs demonstrated a knowledge of R&B's past (surprising for a skinny, white Jewish guy), but it was on Krell's "debut", Love Remains, which collected the best songs from the EPs and some new ones, all coming together into one satisfying whole. From the beginning sample of the movie Safe on "You Hold the Water" to the ethereal closer, "Suicide Dream 1", Krell made a breakthrough in bedroom pop music. Krell mines the ignored parts of R&B, similar to the way Ariel Pink mines forgotten pop music of decades past.

What also made Krell such a polarizing figure in the R&B universe of 2010 was the absence of lyrical content concerning drugs and sex in his music. He's later explained his thoughts on this ("I have no problem with sex and drugs, I think they're both great"). Krell's said that the inspiration for his lyrics come from truncated scenes, or dream-like sequences. And Love Remains feels like a dream. But at other times, it feels if you're peeking through a hole in your wall, seeing the person behind crying over some emotional event. This affect is most prevalent on album highlights "Ready for the World" and "Decisions", but also on growers like "Suicide Dream 2" and "Suicide Dream 1" (dedicated to a friend who passed away).

The majority of the lyrics on Love Remains are obscured, with snatches coming through the musical fog ("don't forget to your cellphone", "I was hoping for the rain, I was hoping for you", "you don't ever have to worry"). This happens, because the music is decidedly lo-fi. However, where this can be frustrating in regards to other musicians, the instrumental decisions of Love Remains are just as impressive as Krell's falsetto. "Endless Rain" and "Lover's Start" sound like your favorite hip-hop songs. In the middle of "Ready for the World", all the music drops out, and a high pitched frequency comes in and it gets me every time.

After the success of Love Remains (it held spot 19 on Pitchfork's top 50 albums of 2010), some speculation arose about what Krell would do next as How to Dress Well. There was the EP released, Just Once which contained orchestral re-workings of the "Suicide Dream" tracks and "Decisions". So when his excellent sophomore effort, Total Loss, was announced many expected a much more "melodramatic Krell". Turns out, Krell tricked everyone again.

The instrumentation of Total Loss is much more fleshed out than it's predecessor, yet the music is sparse. Relying more on negative space, which is filled by Krell's voice, it sounds like something that The xx would be proud of. "Running Back" and "& It Was U" rely on little to no instruments apart from finger snaps. Yet "Cold Nites" and "Say My Name or Say Whatever" feature elegant, emotional piano lines.

As a whole, Total Loss is much more cohesive than Love Remains, possibly due to Krell recording the record all at once. "Struggle" reprises the lyrics of the opener "When I Was in Trouble", but this time, it's aimed at a lover and not his mother. Highlight "Talking to You" uses the instrumental that appears earlier in the album, "World I Need You, Won't Be Without You (Proem)" and he even manages to insert the instrumental's title in the lyrics of "Talking to You".

That brings up the topic of the lyrics on Total Loss. My goodness, the lyrics. On Total Loss, Krell's voice isn't obscured by static and other lo-fi trappings, and the listener won't have trouble discerning his lyrics. "Struggle" has the lyrical gut-punch of "I remember drinking with you in your bed... but in the morning we'd go and start again". On "When I Was in Trouble", Krell sings the line "Dear Mama, didn't you try to tell me everything would be safe" in his falsetto, and then repeats in mid-vocal range, giving it a chilling effect. "Cold Nites" is about all of Krell's shortcomings. "Ocean Floor for Everything" closes the album, with Krell declaring "I have my future". It may be the happiest moment on the album, yet it's still delivered with Krell sounding on the verge of tears.

But the second to last song, "Set It Right" blows everything Krell has done out of the water. It mixes the blown out reverb of Love Remains and desperate lyrics of Total Loss. The song begins with moaning vocal samples. Krell sings along with them, but his voice is mostly obscured. That is, until about two minutes, when the music crumbles around him and comes down to a haunting piano and Krell singing "Jamie I miss you, Mama I miss you..." and continuing down the list of people in his life. Krell recorded that portion of the song in one take, on the one year anniversary of the death of his best friend. Krell describes his singing on that bridge as "naked" but it's also beautiful. Then, the moans kick back in, but this time Krell is singing as loud as he can over them. He offers one of the album's best lyrics: "as far as love goes, it's one step at a time... be true to me, I'll be true to me too".

Based on just that one line, Krell's music is true. It's true to him and to the listener. It's a feeling, that "peers" The Weeknd and Frank Ocean can't pull off, simply because they're not as passionate. Krell's music is passionate as well, as exemplified throughout his entire discography. It's hard to describe the emotion and feeling conveyed through Krell's music. Be true to him, all you have to do is listen...