Album Review: Zack Oakley, Kommune I
Posted in Reviews on March 8th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
The first thing to know about Kommune I is that, contrary to what one might think from its title, it isn’t Zack Oakley‘s debut LP. The guitarist, vocalist, songwriter and emergent bandleader based in San Diego and known for his work in acts like Joy, Volcano and Pharlee (in which he drums) launched his Kommune Records DIY imprint with 2022’s Badlands (review here), a dizzying and progressive interpretation of classic heavy rock that continues exploring around its central boogie-prone ideology on the five songs of Kommune I, sacrificing untold strings to the gods of wah and whammy. This is done in the name of a worldly, funky, mindfully casual approach spearheaded by Oakley, who recorded the 43-minute offering along with tracking engineer Cory Martinez (who also adds guitar, synth and vocals) and a cast of players returning and new.
Which brings us to the second thing to know about Kommune I, which is that it’s Oakley‘s name out front, but ‘Zack Oakley‘ on the album cover delivers the material as a full band. In addition to Oakley and Martinez, Kommune I sees a return appearance from Jody Bagly (Loosen the Noose) on Rhodes piano and B3 organ, both of which become vital elements in the malleable character of the material. Also back from Badlands is Travis Baucum (Red Wizard), whose harmonica appears as an offset for lead guitar from the outset in “We Want You to Dance” and side A capper “Look Where We Are Now” as well as album-closer “Demon Run.” He also adds vocals, and a bit of theremin somewhere on the record, perhaps in the 16-minute side-B leadoff jammer “Hypnagogic Shift,” where there’s a spot for everybody and listener besides. The lineup is completed by drummer/vocalist Justin De La Vega (Warish), whose snare work doesn’t so much ground the proceedings as give shape to the motion of the whole, keyboardist/synthesist/vocalist Garret Lekas, bassist/vocalist Peter Cai, and flutist Tom Lowman, who harnesses an unironic optimistic future in “Further,” giving flourish to the verse lines in answer to the sharp strums of guitar.
And with those two items in mind, we get to the crux of Kommune I, which is in the scope and nuances of its songs. Side A, with “We Want You to Dance,” “Further” and “Look Where We Are Now,” can be seen loosely as something of a thematic narrative of realization, but with schooled-in-it purpose, Oakley touches on a range of aspects of funk and soul, even bringing some of the Afrobeat impulse that defined Volcano into “We Want You to Dance” in such a way as to lend a decolonize-your-brain bent to the act of dancing itself, while its atmospheric midsection break touches on vibes from The Supremes (thinking “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” and “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” specifically), lets the harmonica howl instead of the guitar and takes its time to jam fluidly back into its verse on the other end, because that’s what serves the song. They want you to dance. They say it. It’s the core message. “Dance’ll kill your ego.” The song’s lyrics and bouncy start-stop groove become a pushback on cruel modernity, a voice from outside, but there’s more happening in it than complaining about social media. They want you to dance.
No less catchy, but each with its own aims in expression and style, “Further” and “Look Where We Are Now” nonetheless back the opener in its physical urgency. “Further” builds up around nighttime bug sounds, ambient guitar noodling that shortly becomes wah, and duly sauntering toms. The guitar builds to a strum as it and the flute mark out the chorus instrumentally ahead of the verse — an aspect of ’60s pop that’s demonstrative of Kommune I‘s multifaceted take on classic ideas; it’s not just a retro veneer, and it’s not limited to heavy rock — so you already know its shove when it hits. Also somehow it’s space rock. The vocals are layered and emphatic, drawing on the harmonized gang-vocal methods of early psych-funk and bringing them into Oakley‘s songwriting in a way that helps bridge the jumps surrounding from one part, one song, and to a degree, one aesthetic to the next, staving off a disjointed feel through consistent tonality, a mix made for dynamic rather than volume, and, in perhaps a more primeval way, that gang of voices. If everybody’s making the leap from Afrobeat heavy soul rock to proggy turns and a condensed jammy sprawl — and they are — it’s that much easier for the listener to be carried by the momentum of the going.
As “Look Where We Are Now” underscores some of these notions — the wah of the ’70s soul intro like Isaac Hayes doing “Shaft,” howls making it a party behind the funky first movement, an array of voices, the stellar and foundational performance of De La Vega, and so on — it distinguishes itself as well in how its chorus comes forward, and as both of the first two tracks did, speaks directly to the audience while changing the frame in which that happens. The swap from ‘you’ in “We Want You to Dance” and ‘we’ in “Look Where We Are Now” is notable, as though, having gone “Further,” there has been some transformation of consciousness or state. Its call-and-response chorus feels mid-’60s or maybe even later British Invasion, but “Look Where We Are Now” also gives itself over to harmonica an earned for-a-walk instrumental break with the guitar solo at its halfway mark, at least one rhythm and lead layer working together, if not more, then goes back to the hook, which is quadruple-repeated as they roll out a last wash of swirl and snare. The proverbial tight band sounding loose, bolstered by production that puts you in the room as it’s happening.
Side B presents something of a different face in the aforementioned “Hypnagogic Shift” and “Demon Run,” inevitably defined in large part by the jammy gamut (jamut?) of the former, and brought more in line with Kommune I‘s first three tracks by the hook of the latter, which also accounts in its whole-LP summary for the breadth of “Hypnagogic Shift,” which arrives ready to take its time at the outset and fleshes out to an especially rich portrayal of this band at work. Rhodes and Hammond both seem to be accounted for in its reaches, and there’s an initial structure being worked and weaved around, and while as a result of that there’s clearly a plotted course in among all the part-changes and redirects, having a verse to return to even as they approach 10 minutes in is an asset that lets Oakley and company maintain the outward accessibility of “Further” or “Look Where We Are Now” without giving up either the nuance behind “We Want You to Dance” or the internal (in the band, instrumentally) or external (with the listener, in the music and lyrics) conversations happening simultaneously. Some Norman Whitfield-ish string sounds that might actually be theremin coexist with a solo of Thin Lizzy-style poise complemented by rhythmic swing, guitars lining up in harmony as keys, bass, drums, all direct themselves into the ether as they bring it to an end as they invariably would live.
As with all of Kommune I, it might take a few listens before the level of accomplishment in “Hypnagogic Shift” fully reveals itself. With so many pivots and twists throughout, it can be easy to feel untethered, especially in the longer track, but that’s where the solidity of structure comes in to provide clarity amid the trance. “Demon Run” completes the perhaps inadvertent narrative spanning the album — which seems to live out its ‘dance’ as actualization and the experience of broader knowledge as side A shifts to side B — by representing both ends in its eight minutes. Not as insistently verse/chorus as “Look Where We Are Now” or “Further,” its wah-coated unfolding lets party harmonica and keys sneak out past the overwhelm of “Hypnagogic Shift,” organ taking a solo before the guitar signals a U-turn to the verse, instruments answering vocals, the bop of the hook, which is mostly just the title line repeated and held out just before six minutes in as they hot-shit their way into the chorus-topped last push. Everything drops out for a from-the-belly,” deeeeemon ruuuun,” ahead and as part of the ensuing cymbal wash/build-up finish, residual feedback eventually snapping on a snare hit to a more mindful, twisting end.
And not to end with another list, but there are a couple levels on which Kommune I comes across as especially declarative. Foremost, it takes all its influences from across a spectrum of styles — maybe he does, maybe he doesn’t, but Oakley sure sounds like he’s got all the records — and creates something from them that can most of all be called itself. It communicates live-band ambitions that are undeniable, and indeed Oakley has a lineup and last month digitally released a set, Live at Drunkards Dream, as further demonstration of that intent. Third — and this is true even unto its title, which hints at a series beginning — it feels sustainable, for the process of Oakley leading the recording and release, and for how its songs are expansive with room to continue the growth already resonant here from Badlands onto subsequent outings. It may not be, of course, but Kommune I could very well set the pattern even more than its predecessor for Oakley‘s solo craftsmanship and the band operating under his name — live they’re billed as the Zack Oakley Band, which is straightforward enough — and if that turns out to be the case even for the medium term, it will be well worth keeping an eye for where it goes as well as answering the call put forth in these songs. Remember: they want you to dance. Be ready to.
