Friday Full-Length: Kaiser, 1st Sound
Posted in Bootleg Theater on October 27th, 2023 by JJ KoczanNote immediately that despite the title it’s not actually the first sound the band made. Helsinki-based Kaiser — guitarist/vocalist Olli “Otu” Suurmunne (Headless Monarch, Altar of Betelgeuze, etc.), bassist Pekka “Pex” Sauvolainen (also Amputory) and drummer Riku “RiQ” Syrjä — formed 10 years ago and had a self-titled EP out in 2014 with five tracks. But 1st Sound, even with the invisible asterisk, is the debut full-length from the Finnish three-piece, and in its 10-song/45-minute stretch, the 2018 release speaks to an older school take on heavy rock. It knows it, too. They tell you that pretty much ‘1st’ thing.
Beginning at a subtle misdirection of slow nod, “High Octane Supersoul” is one of two instances of that last word in a title that I’ve ever encountered in a heavy rock context. If there are more within the genre, I hope someone will tell me, but seeing the word immediately associates “High Octane Supersoul” and the initial impression Kaiser make on 1st Sound in my mind with Dozer, who opened their own first album, 2000’s In the Tail of a Comet, with the telltale rush of “Supersoul.” If Kaiser are upping the stakes on that, the boldness is no less admirable than the opener’s hook, which carries some shove that continues in “Desert Eye,” which is duly sandy and coursing in pace, the trio building momentum and opening into the chorus in a way that reminds of Sasquatch — they answer that particular uptempo thrust later as well in “Fuzz of Fury” — and revel in the lead layers, apex shouts and dense groove with an effects current shifting directly into “We Bleed for This.”
As to what they bleed for, it’s this. And that’s clearly true, or at least was when 1st Sound was recorded. While bringing their own elements of songwriting and performance to their material, Kaiser did not end up playing fuzzy riffs by accident. They sound like fans, and when “Desert Eye” winks at Kyuss or they unfurl the elephantine lumber of “Earthquake” — very clearly a song named after its riff, and not the only one here between “Ouroboros,” which runs in circles late with depth-charge pings of synth in the verse just before its last chorus, space-doom jamming closer “Galactic Crusade,” or the aforementioned “Fuzz of Fury” and “Desert Eye” — part of the passion driving it comes from that foundation. But while familiarity abounds and (potential, because it could always be a coincidence) dogwhistles like “High Octane Supersoul” drop hints about where the trio are coming from, 1st Sound doesn’t come across as derivative or like it’s trying to hard to perform to stylistic tropes.
Instead, after the speedier first three songs, Otu puts a bit of Chris Cornell soul into “Voidmaster” over a slightly-slower 
procession that’s more swing than thrust at its start. They kick the tempo in the second half, but they pair that with a big slowdown after the solo, so it’s a bit of everything and a departure enough from “High Octane Supersoul,” “Desert Eye” and “We Bleed for This” to signal the change to the next stage of the record, which expands on what Kaiser have thus far put forth with an atmospheric verse in “Ouroboros” before the noted expressively spheric guitar in its midsection. There’s nothing too fancy about “Ouroboros” structurally, but it makes bummer lyrics about species death catchy, and that’s not nothing when it comes to considerations of songwriting and piecing an album together.
And to be sure, whatever elements they might explore around it, as with the echoing synthy drone in “Intermission” along with the quiet creeper guitar, Kaiser remain rooted in heavy rock and roll. A sample as “Intermission” gives over to “Earthquake” warns that “What you are about to hear is very disturbing indeed.” Crashes ensue and immediately the intention is toward largesse. Bass anchors the verse as the massive central riff takes a break. Don’t worry, it comes back, and the moment of cathartic nod is the stuff of hair-on-end autonomic response, but they can’t resist turning after three minutes into the total 4:43 to a faster swing to back the solo. They have a separate ending riff that’s kin to the chorus but different enough to be something else, and they finish the highlight cut with suitably big crashes and residual effects fade, drums beginning the smooth shift to “Fuzz of Fury.”
Doing so means meeting stomp with sprint. Without mapping out BPMs, “Fuzz of Fury” is as fast as Kaiser get on 1st Sound, but more, it is the complement and culmination of a movement that began on “Intermission” and cycled dynamically through “Earthquake” and its own willful contrast thereof. I don’t know if those three songs, or perhaps the latter two, were presented live in that manner, but on the record they sound like that’s where the idea came from. And the adrenaline-mainline, scream-topped crescendo of “Fuzz of Fury” supports the case. That last shout finishes cold and the penultimate “King of Horizon” chug-thumps in as if mocking its own pomp. A layered melodic pre-chorus leads into a hook answering the screams from the track before, but “King of Horizon” and “Galactic Crusade” are the two longest inclusions on 1st Sound, and that speaks to the band presenting a different kind of immersion at the album’s end.
Various spoken/old movie samples play out over a slowdown and they instrumentally seem to flesh out in a way they haven’t yet, loosely psychedelic and progressive but still grounded rhythmically. “King of Horizon” — make no mistake, critical in its point of view rather than celebratory — ends big but is more about how it gets there, and “Galactic Crusade” builds up through its verse to a plod not as actively engulfing as “Earthquake” but that allows the floating line of fuzzy lead guitar proper space in the jammy middle stretch that follows, bass and drums again keeping it together. On a record that’s been so tight, the sense of letting go in “Galactic Crusade” is palpable; the drums drop out and they bring it down gradually to silence, having succeeded not only in paying tribute to the aughts-era influences that formed them, but brought a fresh perspective and sense of craft to that backdrop. It’s a rocker, to be sure. Sometimes that’s just what you need.
Kaiser haven’t done another full-length yet, but they will play Truckfighters Fuzz Festival in Stockholm in a couple weeks and they took part last year in Ripple‘s Turned to Stone Chapter 6 (review here) split alongside Norway’s Captain Caravan, so there’s no indication more won’t be forthcoming. In the meantime, as always, I hope you enjoy this one and thank you from the bottom of my wretched heart for reading.
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Every week, barring disaster or other various circumstance (at a fest, etc.), I do a little summary of the week, a bit about what’s been going on in my life while the writing that’s taken place was happening. I’ve been doing this for about a decade now, I guess, and it’s become a crucial outlet for me in how I organize my existence.
Here’s the update.
There is very little in my life that doesn’t feel insurmountable difficult right now. Things that should feel or be easy aren’t, and while I might sit and effectively bang out 1,200 words about a record in a given morning before The Pecan gets up if I’m lucky, even that satisfaction seems to be taking place at some distance from where I’m sitting.
I have failed and am failing my family, daily, as a husband and father and am seem to be unable to provide the support either of them needs, especially my daughter, who gives way less of a shit that the dishes and laundry are done than she does that I think she’s a good person. And we butt heads daily. All the time. Last night, I’m on the couch, actively begging her to go to bed before it comes to frustration and yelling and everyone is miserable most of all her and — to her eternal fucking credit — she went upstairs, but sure enough was back down 10 minutes later.
It wasn’t until my wife pointed out that given how late it was (coming on, then after 9PM), she likely would be asleep if she could. In the context of yesterday at school, when I got called in to pick her up early for punching, kicking, biting her para and stepping on another kid’s hand — obviously an outburst triggered by something but I have no idea what — the restlessness makes sense. She felt remorse enough to keep her up at night.
But I had the wrong read. And I do all the time. I’ll say it’s not without reason — because this child has never fucking listened to me and these days often just ignores me outright when I speak to her — but my frame of reference is out of balance. She’s not a bad person. She’s struggling. Yelling doesn’t help. Didn’t put her to bed last night. She needs sympathy and openness that apparently I’m too broken to provide when called upon to do so.
There are a thousand daily frustrations. She’s rude, she’s disrespectful or disregarding of others, whether it’s kids at drop-off, my wife and I, or the adults at school. She picks her nose. She swisher her spit compulsively. She hits me every single day. And I get caught in this cycle of feeling like shit, acting like a shit, giving her the response she wants — because what she’s looking for is to manipulate attention and the direction of individual attention and energy, and my god is she good at it — and who the fuck ever did any good being sarcastic to a small child? Or nagging her to keep her finger out of her nose?
This is a passionate, brilliant, beautiful person, with an obviously complex inner life. How many trans six year olds have you met? I’ve got one. We read books all the time. As I sit here and write, she is across the table finishing a Lego submarine that’s rated for a kid three years older with however many hundreds of pain in the ass tiny pieces, demonstrating focus, attention to detail, an ability to follow instructions, and joy and pride at the accomplishment. Healthy, wonderful feelings. And all I can think about is the shape of the day when her pinkeye has moved from the left to the right and that means no school and how are we just going to get through like we’re still in the first-year trenches, while also being a bit relieved that no one at school is going to get hurt and a whole separate emotional load from that. What the fuck is wrong with me?
Nothing new, to be sure. In fact, I find at this point in my life that I’m exhausted by the whole thing. I turned 42 last week. For what on earth do I need to be hating my body like I did when I was 15? What essential function isn’t there that would let me get through the day? I practically leak privilege. I don’t work outside the house. I have a wife who only grows more amazing with each passing year. A kid who is twice exceptional and often difficult — you’re not supposed to say that about kids anymore, I know, but everything else is a euphemism and when something is hard it shouldn’t be diminished; I’d belittle her troubled times no more than my own — but also wonderful and funny and fun and clever, who makes plays on homophones I think just because she knows I like them.
I have my family, a house, a car, a puppy, a trampoline in the back yard. We spend our evenings together playing Zelda on Switch. Every now and then someone flies me to Europe for a fest. How can I be so miserable when I have everything I could ever need or want, other than to have seen My Sleeping Karma?
Meds have gotten me nowhere. I need to be back in therapy, because aside from this site, I don’t have anybody in my life I really feel like I can vent to and be heard while being neither short on emotional support from family — my wife makes me fried cheese in fucking heart shapes! — but there’s this giant opaque block in my way from reading my life the way I should and while I know it’s not like this all the time, it kind of also is with enough regularity that I’m left wondering what the fuck the point of any of it is? Another 30, 40 years if I’m lucky? Of self-loathing and bitterness?
And separate from all of this, I think I might be one of those intolerable dudes who has nothing to talk about except music, because, well, I’ve met a bunch of new humans in the last two months and it wasn’t until going through weirdo prog bands I’ve seen with one of the dads at my daughter’s birthday party that I realized it was probably the most engaged I’ve been with someone not in my immediate circle in months. So, again, fuck.
Thanks for reading if you did. Have a great and safe weekend.
FRM.
