Review Summary: A shadowy abyss that spews sound twisted and deformed beyond all recognition;
a lithe, tortured creature whose terrified whine echoes through infinity.
Coyote, the fourth chapter in the indecipherable manuscript of Kayo Dot, might just be their most inscrutable work yet; darker and much more rhythmically focused than their previous efforts, it’s incredibly eerie and at times simply scary. Quite conveniently, it’s also an astounding piece of music by a group of musicians who constantly push their respective envelope, refusing to stagnate in the stinking swamps of sound and instead forging a path through the gloom and murk with nothing but a dimly flickering lantern to guide them.
Toby Driver stated that the writing of this album was heavily influenced by the works of other, similarly tormented souls; Scott Walker and The Cure among them. Kayo Dot is far removed from these bizarre golems of sound, yet
Coyote vomits a similar sense of overwhelming fear and unease. Saxophones snarl with barely disguised trepidation born from the darkest pits of despair, staggering hopelessly through the slippery streets of sound, guided by sonorous basslines that spread like an endless oil slick on a somnolent sea. Occasionally, a rip tide of guitar tears free from the enveloping embrace long enough to wail at the apathetic sky before sinking again into the liquid gloom. Mournful violins tug at your heartstrings like emaciated orphan children, their wails resounding through the night, responding to the plaintive call of the drums with all their wretched strength.
Driver’s singing, though questionably bizarre at times, for the most part serves admirably in conveying the melancholy lyrics through the impermeable fog. Album highlight
Whisper Ineffable is the best example; often beginning as little more than a handful of scattered syllables, his voice worms its way through the darkness before finally exploding into a demonic shriek that futilely tries to rip apart the sonic canvas, like fists battering fruitlessly at a wall that refuses to weep. Yet devastating sorrow always walks hand in hand with irresistible beauty; the weeping violin that caresses the irresistibly tantalizing skin of
Calonyction Girl does so with heartbreaking and breathtaking exquisiteness.
Much has been made of the musical mutation undergone by Kayo Dot after
Choirs of the Eye, and many have criticised both the decrease in decibels and distortion. Driver, however, sensibly realized that it is impossible to compose a better climax than the one that tore the universe apart during the finale of
The Manifold Curiosity; any attempt to do so would ultimately be doomed to failure.
And yet, a triad of fantastic albums later, people are still bitching about the lack of clear, focused, and most of all loud conclusions to songs that really don’t need them. In this particular case a deafening resolution is unnecessary; the disturbing content of these musical tomes is what enthrals and captivates, not the overblown epilogue. There’s a time and place for shouting, but
Coyote is not it;
Better to let the beast sleep than risk disturbing its restless slumber
