Being a cynic wears on a man as does any other habit which forces him to deal in the currency of negativity for a prolonged period of time. So, personal concerns about my integrity as a journalist and a human being aside, I've been trying to find something, anything good to say about each record that comes across my desk. Reviews should be wielded like flamethrowers, not thumb-screws. The reviewer must attempt to burn away the straw and filth of a work, revealing the gems that lie within, rather than using their power to belittle someone else's personal art simply because they were born with the beautiful curse of being obscenely witty. I've been mulling this truth for several weeks now, and I was all set to put it into practice.
Then along came this album.
Kittie's Until the End is a record so bereft of redeeming value that I cannot under any circumstances recommend it. My act of mercy towards this record must unfortunately be constituted by my silence. Because if I attempt to say anything of substance about the collection of noise burned onto the circular piece of plastic in my stereo right now it will be to so totally verbally abuse it that I will probably no longer be allowed to write reviews for anyone, anywhere.
Wait, what's that Julia? I can't cop out on this one? I can't just say that I hate it and that's why the good people should save their hard-earned cheese? That's what I always do? Fine. Girls, I'm going to do this now, but I want you to know that this hurts you more than it hurts me.
Music history contains a long list of famous women who have worked to uphold the integrity of the gentle sex's reputation. Joan Baez, Janis Joplin, Diana Ross and Billie Holiday all did their gender a credit, if not by living perfect lives, at least by leaving artistic legacies worth inheriting. Kittie, comprised of four women, is going a long way towards unraveling that respect which their forebears and their abler peers have worked so hard to establish, particularly in the realm of rock, specifically in the patriarchy of hardcore.
Just as the vast majority of hardcore artists are white, even more are male. So, while women like Candace Kucsulain and Ally French (vocalists for otherwise all-male hardcore acts Walls of Jericho and Bloodlined Calligraphy respectively) may not be re-inventing the wheel, they are not slandering their gender by putting out substandard work. French's vocals in particular can compete with any man. Morgan Lander's vocals sound like an angry seven-year-old girl whining about not being allowed to spend the night at a friend's house.
And that's just the beginning of Kittie's woes. Lander, who also handled all guitar duties on the record, at certain points chugs away at one chord for longer than FDR was in the White House. The tones aren't that terrible if you compare them with the corrugated feel of any band's guitars who focus more on breakdowns than melody.
Even the best of the breakdown bands, like Martyr AD, get old after a while, and they're creative. Kittie's song writing is more tired than a single mother on welfare. Bad melodies abound. And, seemingly desperate to prove that they are not pandering to 15 year old girls, Lander has lyrics which are so thick with anger, bitter herbs and darkness that it's hard to imagine her not choking on the vitriol as she screams them out. She applies imagery so thickly that it's impossible to have any feel for what, in the real world, she is talking about.
"Look So Pretty" seems to be about not caring whether anyone thinks she is pretty or not. "Say what you will / I will walk past that plate / of glass". An admirable ideal, but not executed well. The meaningless chorus "A choice not an echo / And as your world comes down, / I will be there" leaves the listener wondering what's going on other than the fact that "Burning hatred will light [her] way." Paul Simon could have written more intelligible lyrics.
I have a certain respect for any woman who is willing to put herself out there in as harsh and male-dominated a world as is that of today's metal and hardcore scene. For every fan they win, they no doubt have to deal with ten jerks coming on to them or making rude comments behind their backs or to their faces. That notwithstanding, Kittie have done nothing to further women in rock. They've done the exact opposite; released an album that will only serve to confirm the fears, suspicions, and prejudices of thousands of people who at this point either vaguely suspect or staunchly believe that women just can't make good rock music.
For the reasons I've just finished laying out I'm forced to say that Until the End is my new candidate for worst album of the year.
0/4
