‘Tesen,’ the 15:35 leadoff track, sets the tone for the proceedings to follow. Every note matters. Even before the sax shows up. Every note has purpose, and while Kungens Män conjure such a sense of mellow-psych drift in that gorgeously echoing initial stretch, there is no mistaking intent. It is not haphazard jamming as a soft synth drone comes to back the guitar, or when after the first six of the total 15 minutes the sax suddenly arrives, and then the drums start a little while later and it turns out you’ve been in a build all along that only grows more lush, jazzy and patient as it plays out toward its deceptively bassy, long-fade finish. The ultra-organic Swedish instrumentalists released Fuzz På Svenska in August 2018 through Adansonia Records, and “Tesen” is one of four songs extending to such aural-temporal reaches; there’s also the title-track (14:18), the penultimate “Tung Dialog” (14:10) and closer “Ljupt Djud” (19:16), with the shorter “Starta Gruff” (6:54), “Centrala Mellanplanet” (7:03) and “Tung Pedagog” (5:12) spread throughout, not so much to offset the longer pieces — if they were, the band might’ve split up the closing duo and had a true back and forth throughout the tracklist — as to provide a complement of more compressed movements. “Starta Gruff,” which immediately follows “Tesen” is a ripper in comparison, with its guitar-vs.-sax-oh-no-wait-they’re-working-together soloing and the persistent snare of Mattias Indy Pettersson, a straightforward beat turned experimental in context.

Whatever role improvisation plays in the work of Kungens Män generally — they released the full-length Kungens Llud & Bild (review here) earlier this year and took part in Worst Bassist Records‘ International Space Station Vol. 1 four-way split 2LP (review here), and yeah, neither seemed wanting for it — the six-piece of Pettersson on drums, guitarists Hans Hjelm and Mikael Tuominen (also percussion and production/mixing), bassist Magnus Öhrn (who also did the cover art), synthesist Peter Erikson and saxophonist/percussionist Gustav Nygren have always been purposeful in conveying a sense of exploration. Their beginning in 2012 led to a few wildly productive years, putting out minimum-five LP-length outings in 2013 and seven in 2014 before, like a nascent volcano, they cooled off a bit and only did three in 2015. Still, multiple records from them in a year isn’t surprising — it happened in 2017 and 2019 and one wouldn’t mind if it happened again — but Fuzz På Svenska stands out in part because of its title, which translates to ‘fuzz in Swedish.’

That gives some depth to the Endless Boogie-gone-jazz funky smoothness of “Fuzz På Svenska” itself, with its undulations of low end and intertwining currents of sax, hypnotic and begging for comically oversized headphones, like get some duct tape and just attach hi-fi speakers to your head facing inward. Kungens Män excel at this kind of reaches-finding, and their approach is more dynamic and natural in its presentation for the fact that they let the audience in on the process of their getting there, whether it’s “Tesen” gradually coming together, one piece at a time, or “Fuzz På Svenska” easing into the groove it will hold for the duration, through final bouts of low distortion wash, sax, and its last guitar strums before the seemingly aptly-titled centerpiece, “Centrala Mellanplanet” hums out threats of feedback over pastoral guitar lines, drums out for a walk meeting with organ or whatever that is along the way. It too takes its time fading out, and that becomes part of the impression of the album, like Fuzz På Svenska gives silence its role to play in making Swedish fuzz what it is. And if this is the band’s declaration of what ‘fuzz in Swedish’ means, drawing on the likes of November, Träd, Gräs och Stenar, its progressive leanings indeed make it part of a vibe lineage well worthy of the update and interpretation they here give it.

“Tung Pedagog” is barely a sliver at five minutes long — the ‘radio single’ as it were — but its floating-guitar magic trick is reason enough for it to be where it is, if the underlying shuffle wasn’t (it was), and it gives over to “Tung Dialog” as more than an intro but almost like a shove into the final two pieces, which between them are well over half an hour long and especially digitally are a world unto themselves. On the 2LP, the longer and shorter tracks are paired, but where it’s long-short for sides A and B, side C switches to short-long, so that five-minute “Tung Pedagog” gives over to 14-minute “Tung Dialog” with 19-minute “Ljupt Djud” behind it. Like so much of Fuzz På Svenska, this feels like a conscious choice toward listener immersion, and it works. “Tung Dialog” soars in its first-half lead guitar, but evens out in energy as it continues to broaden, the synth cycling through alongside guitar and the flowing, subdued-but-not-inactive rhythm. The last five minutes particularly feel like a drawdown, and that Kungens Män treat the piece with such care and grace is emblematic of their approach to what they do on the whole. They’ve got six players aligned toward a singular idea — you ever try to get six people to agree to anything that wasn’t ice cream? maybe this is their ice cream? — and where so many others would just let “Tung Dialog” fall apart, and even Kungens Män themselves kind of let “Starta Gruff” do the same, the mission there was different and knowing that and being able to change methods is part of what makes them function so effectively as a group.

It’s not surprising they reserve a special kind of heavy psychedelic grace for “Ljupt Djud,” but that doesn’t make the execution any less inviting. The closer is essentially one huge linear build, brought to its crescendo at around 10 minutes in, only to maintain that level of swell for most of the remainder of the song — they bring it there and hold it there, in other words. It’s not quite that simple, of course, but once it gets loud, it never recedes all the way again. A proggy start-stop guitar riff becomes part of the cacophony, and that will end up being the final element to go — they end cold after so many fades, because obviously — but as with the rest of Fuzz På Svenska and the best of jam-based psych as a general style, it’s even more about how you got there than where you ended up. If you can dig it, it can dig you too.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

So, in about two hours — at 7:30AM — I have an appointment with an orthopedist to look at my knee. You might recall I sprained it two weekends ago at Høstsabbat, or at least I’ve been calling it a sprain. The swelling hasn’t gone down, the pain hasn’t really stopped, I inadvertently straightened it while walking in the lawn the other day waiting for the bus and fell down, brace on, Advil, all that shit. On Wednesday, which was also my birthday and turned out to be an otherwise wonderful day full of family time, some good chats with friends, and alt-flour/sugars cookie pie, I started the day at urgent care where they took an x-ray and made the referral. I assume this appointment will be hoop-jumping in the sense of you go, you wait, you go in, doctor says MRI, then you need to make an appointment for that. I’ll be honest, I’ve been hoping this shit would just heal on its own if I ignore it and move on with my life, but like two weeks later that’s a little bit more difficult to see as a reasonable position, particularly when every step hurts.

The Pecan feels feelings when I’m like, “ow!” and so that’s been a thing to deal with, and The Patient Mrs. is supportive in a handle-your-shit-dumbass kind of way that is actually something I need — see implementation of “ignore it,” above — so yeah, it’s been a week. But really the dominant feature of the last few days in my mind was how much joy I felt on my birthday to be with my family, to have my mother and sister and her husband and their two kids come. The Connecticut contingent (The Patient Mrs.’ family) couldn’t make it down because it was the middle of the week and kind of just a laid back, get-pizza thing, but my kid sat on my lap and helped me blow out the candles and how many more times am I going to have that happen? I still sing to him at bedtime. These are moments that I know are fleeting and I know won’t come again. If I don’t stop and appreciate them now, there’s no fucking point to anything.

My family are largely well. Mom is en route to deaf and needs new knees, but systems-wise and cognitively is a go, and my sister’s family are all wonderful people. Her older son just started high school and reminds me so much of her at that age; sleepy, sarcastic, funny, curses like the proverbial sailor, etc. I am lucky to have these people in my life. Everyone’s basically healthy, alive, here. This is worth appreciating.

And I got to talk this week with Walter from Roadburn and Peder from Lowrider, heard from Slevin, watched more Rammstein videos and Star Trek and got to post All Souls and review UWUW on my birthday, so yeah, it was a pretty good one. The Pecan turns five next Tuesday, and then next Saturday is his party with the bounce house, CT family coming down, all that stuff. Cleaning to do, but it’ll be fun.

Next week around here should be pretty solid, one way or the other. I just confirmed — like right now, midsentence — a full stream for Edena Gardens, the new project with Causa Sui and Papir members, and I’ve got a Ruff Majik video premiere on Thursday. Some other stuff is still pending, but I know I want to review The Otolith, and Brant Bjork, and if I have time, Black Math Horseman, but that’s a maybe.

I’ve also got a Creem column due today, because that’s going to be in print now instead of on the internet, which is fine I guess, and need to get to work on Dozer liner notes for Postwax, so yeah, much to do.

But the knee thing this morning is probably first (after this and my next coffee, anyhow), so we’ll see how that goes.

Thanks for reading and have a great and safe weekend. I know it’s cooler now than at high summer, but still, don’t forget to hydrate. And watch your head out there. And your legs, I guess.

Back Monday. FRM.

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