In the dusty underground of closed chatrooms where bloated self-important
reviewers decide who's made their ears prick up and who to ignore, where the
promo records are fought over then used as door-stops, the debut album by
Knesset is suddenly mentioned everywhere.
So what gives with this young band formed in 2007 in Phoenix Arizona, but
only now getting their debut album out? It's not as though much these days is
going to reach out of the headphones and grab you by the throat. Is it? Surely
not? Hold on there, if not the throat, then there are certainly oozing tentacles
waiting to wrap themselves around your lovely ears. This album has space and
yearning at one end, sounds as summery as seagulls over the Atlantic at the
other. It's deceptive, as the best music is, sounding like sand-hills but asking
those spiky dune grass meaning-of-life questions that go hand in hand with the
dying embers of any relationship worth its salt.
This works in glockenspiel amongst shimmery drums and frizzy popgaze
guitar, without ever making your teeth crunch on saccharine twee. Instead,
tracks like 'Raw Sound' murmur over your shoulder, grabbing moments of
small-town-ism resignation last seen courtesy of Malice era Jam. At the same
time, Knesset evoke wide cinematic scenes like a Thelma and Louise sunset.
Looking for heart string tugging halfway ground between Gaslight Anthem and Los
Camps? You just found it. Incipient heartbreak never sounded so good. I just
hope they never find true love or they're finished as a band.
