I’m not entirely sure how I’ve become the designated post queen for promos in our stash,1 but I’ll wear this crown with pride. Sometimes, it is heavy, and I want to crumble under its weight. Others, it sits crooked on my head, and I can’t decide on whether to straighten it or take it off completely. But this time, Kazea made my choice easy.
Kazea are a Gothenburg-based trio formed by ex-members of Orochen and Hellsongs, and you can hear the force of that experience in how confidently they navigate their debut, I, Ancestral. There’s a lived-in quality to their sound which feels deliberate and not over rehearsed. Opening with the grungy, swirling two-minute “With a Knife”, Kazea casts a pilot episode that perfectly sets the tone. Vocals are buried in the mix here, with what I suspect is intentional slurred delivery, like the singer’s got a mouthful of stones; trust, though, that if you know me, you know I’m quite into that lyric delivery method.
I, Ancestral continues to open and reveal its chameleonic quality. Eight tracks shift through different shades of post, sludge, grunge, with tints of hardcore and neofolk. Whilst some albums can be listened to in isolation, I, Ancestral had my mind in a referential chokehold. It left little crumbs of sounds I already loved — Placebo, Wovenhand, Dool, flavours of Jaye Jayle and Billy Corgan at times — but managed to sound distinctly like its own thing. It’s cohesive without being too predictable, even when songs follow a similar structure, elastic without feeling messy. One minute all grunge, the next building towards something more anthemic, drums drive upwards and harmonies slide into place with the help of guest vocalists Gina Wiklund and Oskar Tornborg (on “Trenches” and “The North Passage”, probably my favourite tracks). Kazea know exactly how far to push each element, striking a balance between melody and intensity that sounds both calculated and rather instinctive.
Laying down a dynamic pulse that anchors the sound while the guitars float and crash around, the drum work anchors I, Ancestral. There is a seething tension overall, a sense that something heavier could break through at any moment, but for the most part, it doesn’t. Instead, the restraint becomes part of the charm. Kazea play with the push and pull of heaviness and hooks, letting things build without tipping into bedlam. There’s a part of me that wishes they’d lean into that heaviness and let it rip, a caution which I feel is an overall flaw. Instead, we get sneaky choruses that embed themselves in your brain without you even realising it, as there’s something nearly pop like in the song structures, a sense of payoff and release balanced with enough grit and distortion to keep things grounded and heads banging.
With their debut, Kazea put out post for the indie kids: melodic, intense, and just strange enough to keep one coming back.2 I, Ancestral is the kind of album that makes me wish the whole genre would get a proper revival, and perhaps this is a good start. Hypnotic, brooding, with a sharp edge that shimmers with potential, Kazea seem to have understood my silly assignment. I, Ancestral is what I needed, and exactly what I didn’t realize I wanted.
