This is not a collaborative album, really. It’s just a guy reading excerpts from his diary while some other guy flicks though stations on a radio behind him. It is what ought to be expected when an American folk artist and a British doom-metal experimenter come together in confusing matrimony. Mark Kozelek of Sun Kil Moon is well known for his sombre lyrics and lacklustre vocals, both of which are heavily represented on this record. His melancholy style could in theory fit with Jesu’s doomy guitar riffs, but the first surprise of many in this album is that it absolutely does not.
Opening with a tone capable of inducing an early morning hangover in seconds, songs such as “Carondelet” sound like the night before; dark and fuzzy memories of a sad drunk slurring on about his insignificant troubles. Jesu, AKA Justin Broadrick, brings nothing but pain to Sun Kil Moon’s downbeat and trivial musing for the first tracks of this record. The refreshing pint of water that wakens you from this pit of despair doesn’t come until the fourth track, “Last night I rocked the room like Elvis and had them laughing like Richard Pryor.” Jesu has his experimental eureka moment here, introducing snappy drums and oriental sounding synths to suddenly fit with Kozelek’s now coherent and fresh vocals. The lyrics in this song start set the mood for the rest of the album. Perhaps self-indulgent, perhaps deeply personal, Kozelek reads fan mail and mentions that “a guy from Biffy Clyro thinks I’m one of the greats.” It’s phrases like these repeated throughout this record that give the glimmer of character that save it from being just another second rate record.
seemingly random combinations of music and speech make for enjoyably unpredictable easy listening
The album continues in this vein; the backing music flitting unpredictably between styles as Kozelek cycles through a few of his tried and tested vocal and lyrical formats. These include grumbling through dreary anecdotes about his girlfriend, repetition of an airily whispered phrase and some occasionally relatable nostalgia. For the most part, the seemingly random combinations of music and speech make for enjoyably unpredictable easy listening.
It is only when you actively immerse yourself in the lyrics that this album shifts from the inane ramblings of a sad middle-aged man to the modern day epic poem it is trying to be. Looking for subtext in this album is pointless. Sun Kil Moon hides his magic in plain sight, the only veil being his monotonous voice. The lyrics hide nothing but explicitly show all his everyday emotions, that every listener can relate to in one way or another.
Themes of love and death in “Father’s Day” and “Exodus” are masked so thinly that they pack a far harder punch than if it was dressed up in metaphor. The openness and humanity with which every track is delivered is sobering and thought provoking. Sun Kil Moon bares his soul on this record while exploring the familiar yet deeply personal. Jesu however adds little overall. His presence on the album is mostly unremarkable and does little to complement Kozelek. It’s almost as if the music in this “trans-Atlantic collab” was written on the other side of the pond to the vocals.
Stream Jesu/ Sun Kil Moon via Sun Kil Moon’s website, here.