How do you halt the hype? How does three-plus years of internet dissection and lots of love get to you? How do you say ‘fuck them?’ Do you? Archy Marshall, who’s been King Krule for a few years now, has probably asked these questions too many times. But so too has his audience. Who should be impressed: ‘6 Feet Beneath the Moon’ was the only kind of album that King Krule was ever going to put out.
There’s some pop pleasure and songs that flow just right. But the whole thing offers plenty of room for listens and more listens, and listens that unlock something else. It’s a pleasure to hear songs so well constructed, but so indebted to the album concept as well. ‘Ocean Bed’ is as conventional as King Krule’s gone – a song just about loving someone. But like the shattered glass on the night’s pavement that the record conjures up, it’s just one shard of who this young man is. He hits so many spots and they all seem to fit his deep-and-surly style perfectly.
The instrumentation doesn’t stray too vast – and it’ll the give synesthesia to all (black and blue, black and green) because of it. But King Krule has collected 19-years, put ‘em in a jar, and transformed them into 14 songs: ones that are good at least, and repeat-‘til-2am-able at . He hits plenty of emotions and creates this dartboard sensation: what’s next? He dips and dives but keeps the album a genuine work, which shouldn’t be under-appreciated – there’s a five year gap between some of these songs. But he’s crafted it well. If there’s one obligatory negative, it’d be the length – this can feel like a slog. Ending five minutes earlier on his original attention grabber ‘Out Getting Ribs’ would’ve been sentimentally and musically fitting.
‘6 Feet Beneath The Moon’ broods, spits confidence and sits, thinks just as much. He’s shown himself as an interesting, watchable case and someone you still can’t really gauge. And that was the only kind of album King Krule was ever going to put out.
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