“Idon’t like work, work is for jerks, stay in be with the circus freaks.” -Prime, “In Summer”
Lee Heir was working in a meat factory. This isn’t a follow up to Upton Sinclair’s The Jungle. It was his first job and he wasn’t undercover. He was just going through the tedious motions of industrial livelihood, watching each package convey by with “prime” stamped on the side.
Whether the band name serves as motivation or a memory, Heir dedicated his free time to producing a blend of good music
Heir started Prime years ago, but later teamed up with guitarist Chris D. Bramley in 2019, and the two eventually brought in Stuart Boles and Jon Carter. Yet, the group was strictly formed to make music for the time being.
“I formed Prime originally in 2014 as a studio project,” Heir explained, “and in 2015 we began doing more live shows, playing pretty much continuously for a few years until I wrapped things up on the band just over a year ago, and decided we wouldn’t play live again.”
That decision happened in December 2019. It wasn’t the end of a band per se, but more of a recharge considering the group is still releasing music. The pandemic may have helped the quartet accept the transition to making camp in the studio and taking a break from touring. Heir was able to concentrate on new music and new projects while also returning to the drudge of the daily grind during the day.
Prime is a rock band. However, they blend in some classic sounds of other genres, and they do it well.
Heir said, “We make rock music, but it has a mix of blues, glam, indie and punk which I think makes us stand out.”
There are certain tracks where listeners are privy to the influences and inspirations of Prime, and the sound spans musical generations. There are hints of famed revolutionary artists such as David Bowie and even a little Pet Shop Boys sneak in, but what is most prominent is a mesh of ‘70s’ and ‘80s’ punk attitude and sound, bluesy rhythms and a touch of glam.
Although Prime may be finished touring and Heir is looking toward the future, there are still some quality tracks that listeners can enjoy.
The UK outfit has centered their sound around influence and are looking to share their music with listeners though the direction of the band is still in question.
In 2020, they released a compilation of their best songs, Art/Facts. “In Summer” is a solid opening track with a genuine poppy ‘80s’ feel to the sound. The rhythm, especially the vocal verses, is infectious. It’s a perfect lead into “Bye Bye” which can be considered a glam rock, funky track that makes a listener want to move. From the first two songs, perhaps their best two tracks, audiences can grasp the talent Prime has for melody.
“To Be Or Not To Be” then brings out the punk sound. That continuous loud drumbeat that became a staple in the British punk revolution is found throughout, and Heir’s attitude can be sensed in his blunt lyrics. “I.O.U.” then highlights a different instrument: the bass. A funky bass line opens another rhythmic track that has a feel of an early Tom Petty or John Mellencamp song.
After the rough garage distortion of “No Sign Of Life,” the band slows down their tempo for the ever-important album balance. “Free N’ Easy” showcases Heir’s vocal range as the listener enjoys ‘70s’ melody and cadence. “Like The Weather” then teases listeners with a new element to Prime’s sound with a brief bit of synth to introduce the track—which will become more apparent later on.
“Flatline” showcases Heir’s real lyrics the best since he does tend to focus on what he observes on a day-to-day basis. It’s a great song because of the shift in tempo that happens around the 1:10 mark and the 2:00 mark on the track. As stressed before, and album needs balance, but that same balance can also be captured within the a single song if done correctly.
Considering Prime meshes styles of the past, most can be found in “Take Me To Your Crew” which is quite a feat to accomplish. There’s this strange marriage of ‘70s’ and ‘80s’ punk with a bluesy guitar solo by Bramley. Though punk is technically one genre, we’ve seen it change each decade, so being able to blend certain elements without losing the overall sound is respectable—as is adding a totally different genre’s dynamic.
Prime’s sound begins to shift into experimentation with “White Boys, White Noise,” taking a Primus-like bass line and inserting pop culture references. It’s funky, going back to their style on “Bye Bye,” but more contemporary. Fittingly, a “Bye Bye” remix follows with an increased tempo and electronica dynamics added, putting a new wave feel into what originally sounded like a ‘70s’ track. This remix takes basically everything they know how to do, punk, rock, funk, disco, glam, and whatever else to create this alternative track—and the keyboard is a fantastic touch.
“Teen TV” ends the album with a straight chaotic punk track, reverting back to that garage band sound of a band’s pure joy for their craft without a care for what the audience thinks.
In 2021, Prime released “Jeff Took A Trip,” which, despite the band’s uncertain future, verified their studio work remains intact. The psychedelic track rivals a Pink Floyd song with soul, blues, indie rock and electronica elements.
Heir confessed, “I’m not a fake songwriter. Everything is based in reality or observations that I feel to be an accurate representation of how people really act. There’s pressure I put on myself to succeed in what I do.”
There’s definitely talent present. If Heir continues Prime or decides to focus on a different project, he has at least left some good music to be remembered, and enough of a sample for listeners to be intrigued by what else is to come.
“I see my father now in me, a little more every day, the bad is there too, keeps the good company.” -Tony Benn, “Don’t Give Up Your Heart”
Tony Benn has an interesting namesake. He is not the former minister of technology, nor is his name the hip shorter version of the famed crooner. And for all the college basketball fans out there, it’s not the head coach of Virginia’s stage name.
No, Tony Benn is his own person, and he’s made a name for himself as a modern folk singer-songwriter.
The Irish singer has spent most of his career as a solo artist. Yet, he found success in 2005 with the band Exploding Marmalade, reaching the Irish Top 30. Having been in the industry most of the 21st century, Benn has shared his stories internationally. He dedicated himself to music when he was young, however.
He reminisced, “I always sang in school and when I was 15 I had some money saved from my summer job. I wanted to get either a surfboard or a guitar. I decided on a Squire Telecaster (no regrets, it shaped the rest of my life), I bought a book and taught myself, playing every day till I was obsessed.”
After grabbing the axe and mastering the strings, Benn wanted to make a mark with his own voice, and he strengthened the talent he had inside the hard way and the academic way. While busking on streets, Benn attended Dublin’s Ballyfermot school of Music, and the combo helped prepare him for this career aspirations.
With influences such as Eddie Vedder, Roy Orbison, Ani Di Franco and Bruce Springsteen, Benn’s knowledge of music was vast from a variety of avenues. Listeners may even find some Bob Dylan-esque dynamics in Benn’s composition, both musically and vocally.
“I try to marry modern songwriting with a classical DADGAD guitar sound and my singing voice,” Benn said.
His acoustic stylings fit the alternative folk genre well, but with the addition of his deep soulful poetry and measured tempo, his sound becomes very stripped-down and raw. He isn’t afraid to find inspiration outside of the genre as well. For example, listening to pop and classic country helps discover basic and infectious melodies. All these elements help construct a good singer-songwriter, and it’s a style that audiences of the genre have come to love from generation to generation.
In 2009, Benn released his first solo album, Tony Benn. Though the production quality wasn’t outstanding, the tracks really defined what Benn was going for: emotional lyrics paired with great guitar play. Just like some of the best Irish music. His songs were basic to his plight, but tracks such as “It Starts in C” gave hints at the passion he was capable of creating.
After a lengthy hiatus from releasing new content, it wasn’t until last year when Benn put out another full-length album, If I Cross Your Mind. The title track softly, and fittingly, opens the album and sets the tone of what is to come—and it’s one of the songwriter’s favorite songs.
Benn explained, “It has a distinctive sound because of the DADGAD tuning. The melody is sung in kind of a yodel which I don’t usually do, and the lyrics are simple and mature.”
When an artist is able to accept and stay true to a consistent sound early, it makes for a better collection. Benn created his own distinction in the alternative folk genre without straying too far and deterring listeners who are loyal to the style.
The harmonica in “Don’t Give Up Your Heart” is a nice touch, and also a staple in folk music. There is a slight shift in sound in “Won’t You Be Mine” and an increased tempo in “The City.” Yet, his best cadence may come, depending on the ear, in “No More Excuses.”
Explicit language isn’t needed in most stories, but when Benn curses in “People Give Bullshit Advice,” it heightens the song. Since it is uncommon throughout the rest of his lyrics, it strengthens his passion.
“Gypsy Rover” closes out the album nicely with a little more volume then the tracks that preceded it. If not paying attention, as in playing the album in the background while focusing on work or another task, the songs could sound the same. However, they aren’t, and there lies Benn’s brilliance. Subtle changes in the sound provide enough variety to produce a quality album.
Benn’s latest 2021 single, “If We Make it Through the Winter,” continues his consistent sound, fresh with harmonica, melodious guitar and a sing-along..
Though imperceptibly different, each song has two traits that are never abandoned: guitar melody and meaningful lyrics anyone can be moved from and find a relation to.
Benn said of life, “The struggle for me, like anyone else, is to survive and keep all the plates spinning.”
Alternative and folk fans, especially ones accustomed to Irish melody, will be satisfied with Benn’s latest release. He stays true to himself just like listeners stay true to the sound.
Hardboiled crime is a special genre. Derek Raymond, the founder of British Noir, took it to a whole new level with his Factory series. Nothing was like it before, and nothing has been like it since. It also includes the design of one of the most heinous fictional crimes in the history of all entertainment.
Raymond, born Robert William Arthur Cook, created a simple character in the Factory series: an unnamed sergeant. This man, the one the reader knows as Noir’s classic unlikable protagonist, works for the A14 division of London’s Metropolitan Police. Or, as the branch is also known as, the Department of Unexplained Deaths.
The author sets the stage in development, but its simplicity is genius. Raymond gives us a man with no name who handles grotesque murders with no apparent motive, suspect, worthy victim or sufficient evidence. The nameless can’t be explained just like the deaths he is assigned—a perfect love affair between character and cause. It also subtly alludes to the fact, through crime as a metaphor, that persons of power and popularity chose prestige, like picking the most athletic kid on the playground first while leaving the ugly scraps for the less important who dwell in lower, unclaimed societal statuses.
The series begins with He Died With His Eyes Open (1984). This not only remains the best title of the grouping, but perhaps one of the best hardboiled crime books ever written. It changed the genre by inserting philosophical thought into a style that was normally structured for fast-paced entertainment with little depth. However, it didn’t stray from the standard characteristics of the literary category which is fascinating. It still gave readers mystery, bleakness, wit and sharp tongues, but added the element of furthering the discussion after the last page. It made readers think.
The remaining titles in the five-book series include, in order: The Devil’s Home on Leave (1985), How the Dead Live (1986), I Was Dora Suarez (1990) and Dead Man Upright (1993).
One aspect of the series is that the crimes, though all gruesome, progressively get worse or stranger. Nothing will ever compare to what happened in I Was Dora Suarez, however.
Raymond’s narrative goes deep below the surface of just a shocking crime and the path to resolution and closure. There, in fact, is no closure after each respective case file is sealed because the crimes are parallel with the unnamed sergeant’s, as well as the suspects’ he pursues, thoughts on society.
In his personal life, Raymond made it public that he did not particularly fit in with the upper crust he was thrust upon from birth. He challenged his upbringing constantly, and his escape became writing. With the passion he wrote with and the topics he brought to light through controversial creativity, he established a signature dialogue. Whether said dialogue was portrayed as negative or positive is a rather moot point because if an author can form a discussion without being involved, then they have produced something impactful.
Raymond’s literary work focuses on the ugliness of society. The platform and genre he chose was a perfect foundation because it reached an audience and demographic that was ripe for unexpected influence; it put readers in an urban landscape, immersing them on the streets where many found an either direct or indirect relation. An interaction they were accustomed to or wanted to understand on another level.
Anna Pasolini, contributing author of Serial Crime Fiction (2015) wrote, “The five novels included in the Factory series encompass the core issues in Raymond’s literary and political project: a representation of the margins of society and of its evils aimed at uncovering and overthrowing the power relations embedded beneath its apparently plain surface” (p. 144).
The author’s transition from crime to crime increased the severity of his underlying message beneath the prose. It’s as if readers experienced Raymond’s transformation from frustration to absolute disgust. It wasn’t expected, but it was needed and welcomed; it was a literary fit decades in the making. Yet, even among readers who aren’t fazed by the most shocking illustrations, the descriptions of the unimaginable acts—details that may question Raymond’s overall sanity and own sociopathic nature—in I Was Dora Suarez and Dead Man Upright may have gone too far.
Still, it was needed and welcomed.
The controversial crimes in the last two novels of the series are unsettling, the most disturbing on display in I Was Dora Suarez. It wasn’t necessarily the crime itself, though ghastly beyond the imagination; it was the whole process of the performance. The victim was dismembered and her open wounds were violated, but the multiple forms of defecation by the assailant and his masochistic self-mutilation was what left chills. Somehow, halfway through the book, it got worse during an autopsy, and the final scene brought back the bumps. To put it in perspective, if this was ever made into a modern film, or even adapted to a case for crime television, the crime couldn’t be shown or even spoke of without a non-pornographic rating above “R” or “TV-MA.”
However, the unimaginable, yet strangely outstanding criminal concept behind the act, was where Raymond’s creativity shined. It was amazing this was never conjured before. Perhaps there are better word choices than the accolades, if taken in such a way, for the storyline, but it’s not the situation that deserves praise, it’s the fact that it was created, used and presented as a viable disgusting possibility during this time period, and actually captured a major issue that was trending in society.
With the addition of the crime(s) in Dead Man Upright, Raymond’s imagination must be addressed. He was not a sociopathic person as some could assume just from reading his words. He was quite colorful and emotional, on the contrary. I Was Dora Suarez broke the author; the book was a difficult burden, but a task he had to complete, only to realize what he had done after the fact. His reaction to his own work, his empathetic behavior to a fictional situation proves he was not sociopathic.
He said in his memoir, The Hidden Files (1992), “I know I wondered half way through Suarez if I would get through—I mean, if my reason would get through. For the trouble with an experience like Suarez is that you become what you’re writing” (p. 133).
The plot changed him and it was apparent in his shift of writing, even the shift of the unnamed sergeant’s life.
Each novel, or “black novel” as they have earned the moniker, in the Factory Series offers something unique and addresses different aspects of society and mentality.
He Died With His Eyes Open helps us understand the unnamed sergeant and his bleak outlook on life. This is most apparent has he absorbs the recordings left behind by the bludgeoned victim and relates to the viewpoint. The reader gets a feel for not only the character’s personality, but also the true setting and issues revolving around that time in London. This is the best title in the series because, and I will repeat, it brought philosophical thought into hardboiled crime.
The Devil’s Home on Leave delves deeper into mental health; though it was a theme throughout the series, this was more specific and involved post-traumatic stress and literal and figurative forms of addiction. It also involved power and status. A deranged hitman has been done and will continue to be done in the genre, but the metaphor for how the crook was used and by whom, his techniques and backstory are a direct reflection on societal standing and trauma. For reference, Raymond, as Cook, was a corporal in the National Service. Though good, this title is the fifth best in the series.
How the Dead Live gives the reader love in a loveless world. The story almost didn’t fit, but after the reader processes the message, it almost fits too well. There is love and beauty in death, there is devotion in the most disturbing of ways. Also, this is where the reader gains more insight into the personality and life of the unnamed sergeant. He is being developed with more understanding of reason and humanizing the otherwise overlooked lowlifes and unwittingly banished now-reclusive ex-socialites, showing admiration for the enemy. He gave life to people through death. An underrated title, this is the third best in the series.
I Was Dora Suarez pushed the limits of everything. There isn’t much more to be said that hasn’t been mentioned. The book was repulsive to the point where Raymond’s publisher at the time vomited over his desk while reading the draft and immediately told him to take the work elsewhere. Yet, the underlying message was that of societal contamination in a variety of aspects. What the book did give us is even more depth to the unnamed sergeant; it gave him deep sympathy and meaning to his own life. It gave him a reason for redemption not only for the victim, but to fill the voids and pain present from the demons and memory he personally possessed. Despite the criticism, this is the second best title in the series, and not because of the shocking crime.
Dead Man Upright gave the reader what has been overdone: a look into the psyche of a serial killer. It also, and somewhat expectedly, used a snuff film as evidence—which is why it’s the second most disturbing of the series’ acts. It wasn’t the first work to examine the mind of an unhinged psychopath, and it probably has been more overdone since and not before, but it was different and extensive for the genre. The intention of the book, however, may not have been to just provide a form of entertainment, but rather closure to the mystery that was the unnamed sergeant. It gave answers; it gave readers deeper looks into reoccurring characters, or for the main character, relationships and significance in the world. The ultimate summary in metaphor: the killer was society and the unnamed sergeant was the counter thought. The title was the fourth best in the series, but vital to the masterpiece as a whole.
Raymond explained, “A special mood is necessary to make language plastic enough to convey such experience exactly; experience so devastatingly simple that, like love, it verges on the indescribable. Nearly every attempt to convey it can really only be described as another endless series of attempts since we cannot describe what we are not yet in a position to know—and yet it is the black novel’s absolute duty to express it. T.S. Eliot, I think, got closest to describing the nature of this challenge when he wrote (I paraphrase): It is not necessary to die to describe death” (p. 144).
He later added, “Nothing else much matters once you have achieved the hardest thing, which is to act out of conviction. Even if you have been beaten by evil, in the bitterness of the defeat the battle has left a trace for the others, and you can go feeling clean. I recognise that I am a minor writer; but this does not affect the depth of my convictions” (p. 287).
Perhaps, then, it wasn’t the murders that were most disturbing and needed closure; it was the times. Readers followed the journey of an unnamed sergeant; they followed a needed counter belief combating a damaged society.
I must first state that I do not recommend Raymond’s work for every reader. I know many aren’t affected by this style of writing or imagination, but then again, nothing like this has been read. If your advantageous enough, your curiosity may be met with delight, but the scenery does come with a warning label. The series is not for the squeamish; it’s certainly not for everyone. It is, however, a fascinating work of literature.
The Factory series was needed. Not because of the gruesome crimes, shock value, sharp wit or superb writing, but because of the philosophical understanding, in the mind of the author, that paralleled the issues society faced during that era. It enhanced the hardboiled crime genre, made it more academic in a sense, instead of just offering raunchy entertainment with enough bleakness to satisfy but not continue a reader’s thought.
Raymond wrote in How the Dead Live, “I’m afraid even those of us who have never committed murder are nevertheless guilty of it because we enjoy death at second hand, just as we enjoy watching a thriller on television. After all, what’s the use of a newspaper to the general public if there’s not a single good murder in it?” (pp. 2-3).
Murder and crime surround us in various mediums, in fantasy and reality. We’re victims without an escape other than avoidance, which is sometimes too tall of a task. Raymond made hardboiled crime meaningful, thought-provoking and relevant, and blended our separate fears into bittersweet grotesqueness. The Factory series is tragically beautiful and there’s nothing else like it.
“Something’s missing inside your soul, and you’re looking for someone to blame.” -Poison Oak, “Some People Tell Lies”
An artist doesn’t have to be unique to provide quality music. Creativity is creativity, and it takes a lot of work just to contribute to the continuation of a genre. Rockers Poison Oak look to give listeners quality music to simply enjoy.
Poison Oak hails from Townsville, Australia on the north-eastern coast of Queensland. The process to forming the band was organic. It started with jam sessions, then innocent recording and eventually serious industry interest.
“We came together because we like to write music,” said lead vocalist James Balthes. “After a while we decided to do some recording, which lead to some music companies showing interest in us, which also led to taking it more seriously.”
When like, or sometimes unlike, minds can conjure and create through improvisation in an intimate setting, the writing benefits. It’s more living in a sense, and eventually those sessions don’t just make a song, they make a story. There’s still a need for great songwriters who keep their songs due to the deep personal connection within the work.
The band, though hesitant to define their sound, can fall into the mass saturation of Indie rock. However, they do offer ‘80s’ and ‘90s’ punk elements whether that be through strategy or subconscious inspiration.
Balthes explained, “We’re not that unique, and I don’t consider that a bad thing. We all creatively play the way we do, and when it mixes together it comes out as a combination of everyone’s individual influences.”
I’m a sucker for nostalgia, musically and lyrically. Singer-songwriters like Frank Turner, Butch Walker, Brain Fallon and Dave Hause have the uncanny ability to capture a moment, reminisce and share that with listeners for them to find a relation. Aage Birch, formally Onward Etc., is also fantastic at this style. Poison Oak focuses on recollection as a theme, and that’s what makes the act so appealing.
Locals have compared the group to other Australian acts such as The Go-Betweens and The Whitlams, but one thing is for certain: their music is broad and has the potential to reach many audiences—audiences that know what they like and know what has worked before.
Poison Oak has been releasing music since 2019, but their latest EP, 1996, has given them a solid sample to provide audiences. “Waiting” is a great opening track; it’s rhythmic and has decent structure. This is especially exemplified about two-thirds through the track when the bass only accompanies the vocals, and the drums begin to build up before the group falls fully back into the chorus. The song is a throwback to old catchy Brit-rock.
“1996” captures Poison Oak’s theme. Coming-of-age lyrics and guitar melody starts to showcase the band’s strengths. They keep their same structure, which is seemingly simple, but also difficult to perfect and remain consistent. Small elements like light backing vocals that sometimes go unnoticed really bring the production of a song together, which can be heard on the title track.
The group slows it down a tad for “Sarah” but maintains the theme of memory. Lyrically, the song is descriptive and detailed, honing in on imagery like cigarette burns that can activate multiple senses—hearing not being one of them, coincidentally.
“Some People Tell Lies” continues the gradual slowing of cadence. The track is a ballad and it provides the all-important aspect of balance to an album. The melody is strong once again, and though Blathes breaks from the theme a tad, the emotional tone is still present. The build-up is the strongest on this song, almost similar to how The Airborne Toxic Event expertly produces anticipation.
Poison Oak then showcases their versatility in “Let You Down.” Musically, this is my favorite track, and though Blathes doesn’t stray from his range much, he subtly hints that he contains the ability to do so if controlled. The bluesy, dark dynamic of the structure is intoxicating; it compares to acts such as The Zutons that can offer a different sound without it actually being different.
“Thinking of You” is the perfect closing track to the EP. It sums up Poison Oak’s sound with shifts in tempo and their lyrical theme of reminiscing. Not only is balance important on an EP or full album, it also can be accomplished in the same song.
Poison Oak has not just created a sound and nostalgic lyrics, they’ve created an atmosphere, and experience best visualized in crowded dive bars and pubs. Don’t assume that limits them, however, because they have the talent to go far and connect with the audience and meet their energy. They have the ability to relate because they are not just rockers, but fans of rock. They’re simply people telling stories about life.
Blathes stated, “Daily life is the struggle, and drive is to make it more enjoyable each day.”
“I hear your voice, it’s calling out my name, I had no choice, I watched you slip away from me.” -The Last Element, “My Heart Became Your Home”
No matter the genre, a general love for music is vital for success. Achievement, however, is relative, and when a group can come together and exert the same passion as the next member, it will show in their final product. The men in The Last Element have exemplified their desire for music.
The alternative quintet formed in Amsterdam in 2016. Each member of The Last Element had experience in the rock world, touring and playing shows with other acts. With the combination of industry knowledge and musical love, the group banded together to form their own signature sound, and has created an organic following while doing it independently.
Guitarist Nick Polman simply stated, “The love for music is what brought us together.”
That dedication is surprisingly difficult to sustain in the music world because of false expectation and immaturity. The Last Element is made up of vocalist Jasper Roelofsen, guitarists Noah Grim and Polman, bassist Jan Bijlsma and drummer Robert Spaninks. The five have committed to making better music no matter where it takes them, which is refreshing.
“It’s not exactly about the prospect of being able to retire to your own private island in the Pacific for any band making modern metal these days. Few are able to make a living from it. But hey, you’re a musician and you have this terribly romantic idea of being in a band, touring and playing to audiences around the globe. Unless you gave it a proper try and pushed aside everything to where you want to be, you’re not entitled to give up.”
Not only does devotion advance an artist, so does honesty. That doesn’t mean The Last Element are content, though. They’re learning and growing tremendously.
With an endless supply of influence, The Last Element has definitely found a place in the modern rock and metal world. As discussed in previous articles, acts are currently revisiting the roots of modern metal and the emo-alternative scene of the early-2000s—which span the greater part of this century’s first decade. It’s a fantastic era of rock and metal, and The Last Element is pulling from the time but keeping their sound unique and fresh.
One of the major features the band uses is soundscapes. There’s synth, and then there’s fitting synth appropriately with the aura and emotions of a track. The Last Element is able to master this technique with each song which is impressive.
Polman explained, “We all have certain preferences or elements we’d like to hear back in our songs and, of course, along with that boundary, also shift towards what’s current these days. We feel that we are stronger when we’re together and click like pieces of a puzzle forming the bigger picture.”
On first listen, especially with their latest release, there are notes of Nonpoint and Taproot. There are other influences present, such as Breaking Benjamin and Anberlin. If I may go a little hipster here, I believe The Chuck Shaffer Picture Show is present as well. The Last Element is able to mix fast-paced distortion with backing synth and a combination of vocal tone and tempo. For listeners outside of the genre, screaming can be quite eloquent if done correctly.
The Last Element doesn’t drift from their sound; they know what they have and don’t need to be entirely experimental. Sometimes changing a genre isn’t a good thing and it leads to the delusional confidence in the ability of an artist, which eventually hinders their progression. This band, however, is dedicated to the process and their craft.
With normal approaching, or whatever normal may become, The Last Element is excited to share their music live. In the meantime, they have been perfecting their sound, almost obsessively, and they have remained consistent. The proof? Having over a million streams. Not bad.
The Last Element has released a slew of singles the last five years. In 2016, they debuted with the song “Broken.” This track right away shows their modern rock and alternative roots. Though the structure is slightly choppy during transitions, it’s a solid song. The same year, they put out “Lost” and their sound begins to develop. They still have the heavy riffs and drumbeat, but the synth is more apparent at the beginning and Roelofsen’s transitions flow better. It also displays the band’s rhythmic ability.
The following year, the band released four more tracks. “Gravity” brings in that emo element and listeners can hear the structural progression. The composition changes; there seems to be more theory involved with how chords are broken up and arpeggios are used. “Dreamweavers” adds another shift in cadence and vocal tone. Roelofsen begins to show his range and utilize different elements of his voice throughout the song. Then with “Hollow” we have what is always needed: balance. Musically, the band shows they are capable of capturing a mood, especially during the intro which also is used in stages of the verse. It’s not a soft, acoustic track, but the sound meshes with the lyrics and emotion well. “My Heart Became Your Home” is the song of 2017 for the band, and is one of their best to date. Ballads always catch the attention of listeners, and this song fits in with some of the best painful emo love-themed songs on the radio.
In 2018, the band only released one song, “Not All Said and Done,” and it was a tad underwhelming, but not because it’s a bad track. If anything, it’s crisper in production, but it didn’t seem to advance the band’s sound. The first two years there was obvious progression.
Then, in 2019, The Last Element wrote their best song. Right from the beginning of “My Own Hell,” it was a hit, and there is no doubt about it. When a rock song is that loud, that rhythmic and that catchy, both musically and lyrically, a listener knows within in seconds. “Forget About The Sun” and “Damaged” both show how hard the band worked on perfecting the theoretical and structural parts of composition. Everything is smoother, everything blends well.
Last year, the band released four tracks. “Stuck In My Head” and “Ocean Floor” are continuations of their 2017 emo sound and then “Blood Diamond” and “The Devil” goes back a little further with their more powerful riffs, bass and drums. However, just like they band has proven they can evolve, Roelofsen’s lyrics similarly grow, becoming deeper and more complex. This is what good bands do.
The Last Element’s latest release, “Cut It Off” debuted this year. If we track back their progression, or their evolution, if you will, this track can be considered a final draft. It’s a solid rock song that can be on the radio and was composed by a very seasoned band. The vocal bridge could remind rockers of “Runaway Train” by Oleander—which is good a thing—except The Last Element truly comes into their own emotions and sound. It will only get better for the band from here.
Polman and the band view their music as they do life. “It’s an ongoing process that will only stop as soon as you take your final breath, a process you try to get a grip on and if you take the occasion to learn from all that you encounter, the journey through life can be an adventurous and rich experience. If you are granted the time, do something good with it, tomorrow may never come.”
The Last Element has developed a great sound the right way. They have songs that should be on the radio now, and they’re an act that will be touring and making music for a long time.
After 574 days, it was time. On May 15, New Mexico United played a game at Rio Grande Credit Union Field at Isotopes Park in front of 8,657 wild fans—the largest attendance of any USL Championship game this season. United earned their first victory of the 2021 campaign by defeating Austin Bold FC 3-1.
Tailgaters gathered early and propped up cornhole boards and popped up mini goals on the small strips of grass next to the parking lot. As the smoke lifted from grills and cups filled from growler pours, blissful fans blared music and tossed bags while children mimicked their favorite United stars. Black and yellow tops and replica kits filled the spaces between cars until the swarm of fans migrated toward the stadium to claim seats well before the first whistle.
Supporters pressed against each other as they entered through the gates when access was first granted. Face coverings were mostly donned and social distancing was a mere suggestion as The Curse packed the section behind the south goal. With the CDC relaxing their health recommendations days before the game, the inevitable was accepted rather than considered a violation. Horns resonated, drums pounded, flags waved and chants echoed through the concourse as the anticipation grew.
“It’s been a long time coming,” United defender Kalen Ryden said. “I kind of just took a moment, as we came out for warmups I paused, and I just stood on top of the 18 and did a 360 look around, panorama, and just soaked it all in. It was a beautiful moment.”
The players were just as eager. United (1-1-1) moved a tad quickly in the first 10 minutes of play and had trouble maintaining possession and constructing quality scoring chances. Then it happened. Sergio Rivas, fittingly an Albuquerque native and playing in his first game for United, buried a header off a cross from Harry Swartz in the 18th minute. The crowd went berserk.
Rivas shared, “Being able to perform in front of my people, my city, it’s truly a blessing. It was one of the moments when I scored and you just don’t feel anything. You’re just floating; it was an amazing moment. I’m just happy to be able do this for my city, my hometown.”
The remainder of the first half provided solid defense and minimal scoring opportunities for both sides. Austin (0-0-1) immediately increased the pace a minute into the second half as substitute Nick Hinds placed the equalizer in the bottom corner of the net. United upped the pressure from that point on.
Brian Brown, just moments after coming in for Devon Sandoval, chipped Austin goalkeeper Hugo Fauroux to give United a 2-1 lead in the 61st minute. It was also Brown’s first tally as a member of United.
Five minutes later, Amando Moreno headed in United’s third goal off an Andrew Tinari cross, extending the lead. Behind the excitement and joy of the fan base, the team’s energy was constant as they fended off the attacks and chipiness of a desperate Austin side.
“Knowing that we were playing at home, our first game here, we were just excited,” Moreno explained. “We were aggressive the whole time. We were hungry.”
United’s return was great, but their victory was golden. After the team captured the state’s heart in 2018, the momentum of their inaugural season never subsided.
The timeline of professional sports has been a great gauge of progression through the pandemic. First, sports were cancelled. Shortly after, European soccer, golf and NASCAR decided to compete with no fan access. Then the NHL and NBA created bubbles and gave us champions. The World Series was hosted by a neutral site with minimal attendance, as was the College Football Playoff. The NFL completed a full season and college basketball gifted us a version of March Madness. Finally, we started seeing more fans on a consistent basis sprinkle baseball stands and gradually fill other stadiums more and more.
Now, New Mexico was able to contribute to the triumphant and hope-filled full return of sports. These fans, just like the players, yearned for a return to normal. Seeing United win at home while New Mexicans rubbed shoulders, toasted drinks and cheered ecstatically together, is exactly that: normal. Welcome home. Welcome back.
Head coach Troy Lesesne simply stated of the opener, “I would describe tonight’s experience as ineffable.”
United travels to play the Colorado Springs Switchbacks tonight (May 21), and will host Loudoun United FC on May 29.
Metal is a fascinating genre; it’s creative, broad, progressive, explorative and always searching for respect outside of its devoted enthusiasts. From Metallica’s pairing with the San Francisco Orchestra to Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s innovative Christmas classics to The Sound of Metal earning six Academy Award nominations and taking home two golden Oscars this year, metal music is a lasting, at times misunderstood form of entertainment. Blitz Union is adding to the genre’s advancement.
Though research is more affiliated with academia, exploration can be used in a variety of fields and independently. For artists attempting to shift the industry and offer something visionary, they must have experience in knowledge in performance and theory.
Blitz Union is from Prague, and there aren’t many international cities more in tune to the structure of composition. Of course, locals and visitors alike have a deep passion for classical music, but this is something that has been consciously and subconsciously ingrained in the minds of Blitz Union’s members. Strangely enough, that wasn’t what brought the band together at first.
Lead vocalist Mark Blitz said, “It was not music at all that put us together. Our ways crossed because of our common research/obsession. And this research was later on the main impulse to found Blitz Union.”
Commonality leads to camaraderie in a band, and the musicians in Blitz Union are definitely on the same sheet.
Stylistically, the band describes themselves as EDM-Rock, and it’s a fitting description. Their sound can be traced back to the golden era of nu- and industrial-metal in the late-‘90s and early-2000s. Many of those acts successful fused different musical elements to remain relevant for decades. Two artists that stand out, and perhaps blend together to form Blitz Union’s style, are Linkin Park and Rammstein—and on a lesser scale, Orgy and Ultraspank. I say, how promiscuous.
Blitz explained, “Our sound consists of heavy riffs, energy-driven rock elements and catchy EDM hooks. This fusion became very natural for us as we enjoy the freedom during the creation process. There are so many options how you can approach a song by combining those two styles. It’s fun.”
One thing that should be noted, which always has to be said to combat assumptions in rock and metal, is that the men in Blitz Union are incredibly musical. Shodushi and Schtorm have mastered the guitar and bass, respectively, and Governor pulses infections beats on the drums. Then they all contribute to the act’s style.
Electronic elements sometimes get a bad rap because they come from a “box” but an artist also has to have a good understanding of rhythm to produce quality content. The mastery of an instrument comes in a variety of ways as well. For example, Christian Lorenz of Rammstein is a terrific keyboardist and composer, but you can tell he’s a piano player at heart. Classical dynamics just fit well in rock and metal, and Blitz Union captures that same essence in the EDM portion of their sound. Plus, the lyrics aren’t half-bad either.
Another thing that makes Blitz Union a tad different from their influential comparisons is vocal tone. Though they were inspired by the techniques of Korn, Mudvayne and Slipknot, for example, Blitz’s range behind the microphone helps the listener understand the lyrics, and their message is a strong part of their plight.
“Inspiration for our songs comes to me in waves, which I carefully listen to,” Blitz shared. “Then I try to put it into words. Everything that happens afterwards is somewhat of a mysterious process for us, but we as the band have developed a certain technique to approach it.”
With a moving message, Blitz’s lyrics challenge the direction humanity is heading and focuses on the affairs that haunt society today. They expose the wicked layers of society, but at the same time offer hope and inspiration to bring us back to the surface. They have a voice.
In 2019, Blitz Union released their EP Revolution. The title track starts off the record, and it is perfect in a variety of ways. You can’t open a rock or metal album better than the distorted rhythm of “Revolution” which was introduced by a great electronic tone. The mix built, and though short, it provided enough of an intro to not only the song but the capabilities of the band. The track has Disturbed and Rammstein written all over it, and besides Blitz’s immediate display of vocal versatility from verse to chorus, this is an anthem song. Blitz Union gives you everything they’re about right off the start.
“Cyberbully” then introduces the band’s message. The pain and struggle of abuse, which is customary in rock and metal, is covered but in a more focused way to modern society. The music in “Everybody Else” is pristine and structured brilliantly. However, if I had a criticism, it’s the strange monotone backing vocals that are apparent on this track and others moving forward. Vocals also need to mesh, and there just seems to be a lack of balance without a buffer. If, and this is just a suggestion based on personal preferences, the support vocals were more hissing and sinister, it may perfect that element of their sound. Something like Rob Zombie’s timbre in the verses for “Superbeast.”
“Broken” is a great song, and this is where Blitz Union truly beings to impress. They subtly add another sub-category of metal into their repertoire, especially vocally. This track contains those dark harder emo elements. Finally, the short EP ends with another anthem-type song to remind listeners of what they experienced and what is to come, not to mention “Deleted” is a mindset rock audiences have shared, but that simple title makes it so modern. The sound and cadence is very 2000’s nu-metal, but the ideology twists the past to fit with the future.
The band put out their second EP, Not Proud, earlier this year, and new styles are fantastically blended into their sound. Think this weird thought: The Bravery and Jukebox the Ghost.
Of course, those two bands are not in Blitz Union’s genre. However, “Tv” has those Bravery tones mixed into the verse, both musically and vocally. They keep their sound with more great distorted rhythm, and somehow add a punky catchy chorus.
Then the listener is brought back decades and into yet another genre. “Money Crazy World” has a very new wave, synth-pop, Depeche Mode feel. That continues with “Human Robot” except the chorus falls a tad short, but somehow remains fitting for the song. I could picture someone doing the robot to that brief chorus.
“Plastic” returns the listener to what Blitz Union is about from their message to their style, and their ability to transition different musical elements is on full display, especially from a synth standpoint. Then “Not Proud” almost continues and combats “Human Robot” because it discusses how someone can distance themselves from society, but admitting the similarities at the same time. Admitting, but not quite yet accepting (in the character’s mind), we’re all human beings.
The piano rendition of “Tv” finishes the EP and this exemplifies what I was talking about with musical talent. If outside listeners don’t think rock and metal bands have roots in classical training, just listen to this track. This is also where the Jukebox the Ghost comparison comes in. They did an entire bonus album of their self-titled 2015 release with just piano renditions of each track and it was fantastic. It wasn’t a surprise when they did it, however, but Blitz Union offers something different with their change of pace.
Blitz Union is visionary. It’s difficult to blend the amount of styles they do, because it’s not just about EDM and rock, but if done subtly, and if the artists possess a true understanding of composition, it can be masterful.
“I am happy about the music which I make and how our Union is doing,” Blitz stated.
This band has the ability to be an international headliner, and they’re have every intention to stay relevant for a long time. The look to unionize a revolution.
“Your heart is my candlestick, when it lights it takes everything I have.” Dig Two Graves, “Wick”
Dig Two Graves doesn’t want to be labeled—how very Sturgill Simpson of them. Being labeled conforms an act, especially in over-saturated genres. Through defining a trait that preaches uniqueness, the band attempts to just make music how they want to make music.
Dig Two Graves formed in New Jersey. Guitarist Josh Brewer and drummer Kenny Meeks have been playing music together for as long as they can remember. Vocalist Mike Reisser joined the band after befriending Brewer in college, and bassist Jess Agins was discovered on Instagram. Ah, the power of social networking.
After just a few years, the band created enough anticipation for their debut release. Perhaps their attitude fits the scene well and younger audiences have grasped onto the carefree disregard toward industry and the confidence that comes with such brashness. Dig Two Graves fits the scene they are trying not to be a part of.
“Genres are a social construct made by FDR and the communists,” Brewer stated. “We’re free flowin’ and play whatever we want.”
The combination of metal and orchestra has worked on many levels before. Melancholy lyrics, which are sometimes too difficult to understand due to raspy screaming, pair well with minor scales and the somber shrill of other string instruments. Perfecting the blend, however, must be accomplished through a focused structure.
The quartet does, in fact, possess a unique style, and one that has been dormant in mainstream music for quite some time. Yet, just like most late-‘90’s, early-2000’s sounds, a resurgence is simmering. That doesn’t mean that Dig Two Graves hasn’t placed a progressive twist on the sound.
They have been described as metalcore, which is probably where most of their sound falls into place, but with the emergence of a plethora of sub-genres, they have expanded to broader niches. The band’s range is eclectic, from progressive metal to djent to dream pop. In other words, they like to experiment; and early in their career—especially during a pandemic—is probably the best time to explore what delineates them from other acts.
One thing that is impressive is Dig Two Graves has a broad range of influences, capturing versions of rock from other cultures. Brewer mentioned the Japanese acts Dir En Grey, Luna Sea and The Gazette as major influences, for example. However, they also pull inspiration from mainstream performers such as Fall Out Boy and Asking Alexandria.
Meeks explained, “We just make whatever we feel like. Our main goal is to make heavy music with pretty piano parts and cool orchestral stuff.”
This mix of aforementioned artists helps explain Dig Two Graves, but not necessarily their music. For the fans who need an example, perhaps the ones who are less hipster in who they listen to, Dig Two Graves has early Mudvayne written all over them—but without makeup all over them.
Mudvayne’s 2000 release L.D. 50 was a fantastic introduction to the nu-metal outfit that challenged Slipknot early on as the best mainstream hardcore shock act. What’s going to decide the direction Dig Two Graves takes is Reisser’s vocals, and that comes with maturity.
Chad Gray is the voice of Mudvayne, and during the beginning that voice consisted of a lot of screaming. However, just as the band transitioned out of their huge makeup budget, their sound and vocals became more rhythmic and structured, which made their impact more powerful and lasting. The same could be said for Corey Taylor and the development of Slipknot. However, there is one thing that Brewer shares with both Gray and Taylor: an underrated singing voice overlooked by shattering tones. That’s how someone gets labeled when they don’t want to be labeled; some fans don’t look at the whole picture.
Gray proved he had an excellent voice right from the start on L.D. 50, and it became even more seasoned and used as an instrument as Mudvayne progressed. Taylor showed his range primarily with Stone Sour. Like it or not, critics, these guys are musicians with knowledge of the craft, and so are Dig Two Graves.
Dig Two Graves released their EP, Deathwish, in 2019. They introduce this alien-ish sci-fi synth sound to set the tone during “As Above.” The intro track is a tad choppy and lacks a direct tempo, but there is definitely potential and at least showcases the band’s creativity.
“Track 2” features those signature progressive metalcore guitar riffs. Around the 2:30 mark of the track, the listener experiences a simple twist. It’s not a necessarily a solo, but just an extended bridge bringing out the lead guitar notes that have been present throughout. There is also a hint of synth that never overpowers the song—which is nice.
That same harmonious background, a more passive beat, heightens “Wick” to what may be the band’s signature song. The track displays their control over their musical elements.
The title track off the EP captures what Dig Two Graves is going for. This is where the synth-metal combination comes through the most, as well as the testing with structure and where such experimental elements fall. Though it is unique and there’s a great pulsing drum, the flow that had been built up on the first three tracks begins to regress.
“Iron Lungs and Paper Hearts” contains those great spooky notes, and the listener can realize here that that’s what the band wants more of, but the heaviness of the rhythm still outweighs these great orchestral melodies.
If you want a song from Dig Two Graves to base their sound on, it’s “So Below.” This track, in my mind, exemplifies what they are going for musically the best. The dynamics are the most balanced in any song, the transition from strong riffs to melodious backings flow better, leading to an exceptional outro around five minutes into the song. These two-and-a-half minutes are perhaps the best moments of the album—and then it ends.
If I may revert back to my reference of L.D. 50. I’m not comparing Dig Two Graves to Mudvayne because they are two different bands. However, Mudvayne did use all these musical elements early in their career, and Gray combined screaming with a countertenor-esque shift which sometimes led to even spoken word. Reisser has a good voice; another nice reference could be Stephen Richards of Taproot. You can either go as far as to say he can hit the same notes as Conor Mason of Nothing But Thieves, one of the better vocalists in modern rock.
However, it’s all about how someone wishes to express their pain and how a band wishes to evolve their personal sound. Dig Two Graves has a lot of potential within a variety of sub-categories. Their composition and talent is there, they have a sound, but all artists should be wary of too much experimentation because it can impede clarity. Complexity can be captured, and with focus and inner-song structure, Dig Two Graves has the ability to do exactly that.
“I’ve got the rest of my life and I’m not gonna stop ‘til I get it right.” -The Simple Radicals, “The Optimist”
Rock is a glorious genre. It’s diverse, it’s moving in many ways, and it captures the essence and passion of a person’s identity—whether that be artist or audience. This happens in all music, but a song leaves a certain impression to the point where you can hear a release from decades ago and remember the exact moment you heard that track and what it meant. The Simple Radicals attempt to bring back that feeling.
Vocalist John Malkin and guitarist John Griffin formed The Simple Radicals in Chicago. After years of performing with other acts and laying tracks in home studios, a simple request via social media brought the two together—and a sound was born.
It’s an old sound, but not borrowed, and the same could be said for the sake of a revolution. As discussed before, rock music is due for a rewind that will rejuvenate the genre back into mainstream significance. Not that all rockers necessarily value mainstream success, many would claim the underground is where the energy pulsates the most, but rather the ability to share a beloved sound and deeply meaningful lyrics. Or at least a strong opinion.
Malkin shared, “We released a song and video “Rich Man Wanna Be King” which provides a scathing lampoon of ex-President Trump. It’s already racked up 190,000 views and climbing.”
Impressive, yes, but The Simple Radicals are more than one message; they’re a package deal.
Inspiration can occasionally be misconstrued as imitation. Yet, all music comes from a similar foundation of past brilliance. With influences such as Pearl Jam, Foo Fighters, Cheap Trick, Pink Floyd, Green Day, and Tom Petty, The Simple Radicals have a tremendous base to build upon. These great names have helped the band craft their sound and style, and also fittingly place them in the retro-rock genre.
“I grew up listening to classic rock and still listen to it to this day,” Malkin said. “It’s timeless and some of the best music ever written. I wanted to form a band that maintained the integrity of the classic rock sound while adding retro flavors.”
The key element to The Simple Radicals’ sound is they actually span generations—which, and I’m aging myself here, have all become “classic” rock. As long as the loves of my adolescence aren’t considered “oldies” then I’m fine with the label. I remember when it happened; years ago, probably at least over a decade, a classic rock station in town played Local H. I knew how old I was then. Yet, just like a certain song, these moments are engrained in a listener’s memory, and they are welcomed.
Malkin explained where his lyrics stem from, “Life as we see and know it. When you distill it down to the basics and just take a look around, you’ll see that it’s so dynamic and malleable. Things develop and change right in front of your eyes every second. The challenging part is how to capture it all and put it into lyrics and music. But that’s also the most rewarding part.”
That’s what rock music is about, and life has certainly been challenging for all as of late. Even more reason for the revolution.
The Simple Radicals have taken advantage of the pandemic. The more we move through this, the more we are winning the battle. Progression remained essential for the band including the heavy promotion of their releases, recording new music and the development of a podcast, “Music & A Brew.” What more do you really need in life?
A sustainable income would be nice, and touring is where acts make a majority of their revenue. The Simple Radicals have played hometown festivals as well as iconic venues like New York City’s Cutting Room. Though 2020 came with many cancellations, the band is slated to support major acts and perform at SXSW in Austin, Texas in 2021. With the guests they are able to book on their podcast, and the artists they tour with, The Simple Radicals have created and maintained their experience in the industry.
“I’m always learning from other bands and musicians,” Malkin said. “The way they interact with the fans, their mannerisms, how they use pauses in the show. It’s a combination of the band being completely in sync and in the moment combined with the audience truly engaged with you and your music. There is nothing more rewarding than watching people lose themselves in your music. It’s intoxicating.”
Even though the live shows are scarce, we’re gradually crawling back to normal. As for now, The Simple Radicals are solidifying an online presence with their sound.
When a band has knowledge and experience in their genre, especially when it comes to blending the subtle differences each generation presents, it shows. From blues to classic rock to even hints of metal, The Simple Radicals have used their industry familiarity to produce new content the last two years.
In 2019, the band released an eight-track album, New Revolution. It was pure, direct and visceral. “Raise Hell” is a perfect opening track. The song not only preludes to the overall statement of the album, the structure and flow hit all the right elements you want when beginning a musical experience: a growing intro, crisp riffs and a catchy rhythm that transitions anticipation into energy.
“The Optimist” then comes in with a heavy metrical bassline and a solid beat throughout courtesy of James Page and Griff Johnson. Something that stands out other than just the standard rock vocals is the clean and blistering solos Griffin produces. The rock feel is there, but the influences are apparent and diverse from track to track, yet contained, which is important because it proves the band doesn’t lose their style via experimentation.
“Raise Hell” gave us a little of The Refreshments at the beginning, “Medicate” has hints of Alice Cooper, the title track is just a clean standard rock song straight from the ‘90s it would seem on first listen, and then they relax the tempo for “Emotion.” Balance is so important while producing a full album or listeners become weary of the tracks just blending together.
“Talk” is a beautiful enigma of meshing styles; it shouldn’t work, but it does, and has before any of the mentions to follow, which makes it stranger. Griffin’s notes are Santana- or Pink Floyd-esque, while Malkin captures the bleak somberness of ‘90’s vocals, but the undertones are comparable to ‘80’s metal. “Talk” is a three-decade experience of rock music shifts in about five minutes.
Then the transition out begins the conclusion. Malkin’s favorite song he has written sums up the overall message of New Revolution, and though the tempo is slow and basic, it proves that passion and energy truly have no specific cadence, just relevance and relation within. This technique was perfected by Metallica, and after listening to “Learn” you’re given that exact feeling.
“Civility” is great closure to the journey. If an album’s overall rhythm resembles a roller coaster, then a band has done a very good thing. Listeners are able to experience the variant moods Malkin and Griffin create from song to song and a collection of life experiences.
Malkin stated, “The important thing is to get things right in your life and you have your whole life to do so. Be patient but just get it right.”
The band is getting it done on many levels. On March 5, The Simple Radicals released a cover of Jefferson Airplane’s “White Rabbit” with a pop-psychedelic spin. The collaboration with Che-Val stretches even further back into rock history, and the new version is excellent.
The Simple Radicals may be strengthening their presence in the scene at the perfect time. Stay simple and think radical.
“Seems like in death, we all become our perfect self.” -Stereomud, “Perfect Self”
I finished My Struggle by Karl Ove Knausgaard. It was exhausting. It was an accomplishment.
At the end of the sixth book, the Norwegian author stated, “I am no longer a writer” (p. 1052).
I am no longer an ordinary reader.
My Struggle, or Min Kamp, should not be confused or compared to the most recognized European work with the same title, Mein Kampf. Knausgaard’s struggle has nothing to do with Adolf Hitler’s struggle from a philosophical aspect, so you’re able to continue at your leisure. Phew.
There are, however, two curious similarities. First, the style must be addressed. They are both autobiographical. Second, the key antagonist, if we were to classify a real-life character as such, is the father.
The controversy surrounding the book isn’t in its title, but rather the full disclosure of the author throughout the text, and the inclusion of his family and friends as the cast. Knausgaard’s My Struggle is a series of six volumes forming one immense piece of work. The books were published in Norway from 2009-2011, and have been translated into 35 languages. More than half a million copies of the 3,600-page novel have been sold in Norway alone.
In 2012, the books began to appear in English and each volume was released in year increments. By 2018, the sixth and final installment was made available and I instantly purchased my hardback copy. However, with grad school set to begin in 2019, and with the looming combination of academic text and heavy autobiographical philosophy, I decided to pause my reading of the latter.
Two winters and a global pandemic later, I started the end of this specific literary journey. It took me nearly three months to complete My Struggle Book Six, but the eagerness was worth the overwhelming distraction, the sometimes dreadful anxiety was relieved with small situational climaxes, and the closure, well, it will always remain a thought.
Though the struggle the reader absorbs is Knausgaard’s, there is relation in the prose. Not specifically or literally per se, but rather one’s comparison to the stressors of daily life and how an upbringing shapes an individual.
Whenever I read a volume, timing was everything, and I was enthralled from the beginning. It seemed to move with my life, or at least the lasting memories, current idiosyncrasies and future perspectives. For example, in book six, my wife and I had just been discussing what traveling with two children would be like after we are comfortable battling the tail end of the pandemic, and, sure enough, the section I read the next day involved Knausgaard, his wife at the time, Linda, and their children navigating through an airport.
That, however, is just coincidentally anecdotal. But such is life. Major similarities include the dialectal closeness of our names, the fact that we are both authors (one being much better than the other), we are both fans of soccer and have both broken our collarbones playing the sport. Not to mention our obsession with music, the minuscule and immense aspirations of adolescence, complete existentialism and death.
Perhaps the reason I latched on to Knausgaard’s journey was because I was always given a fitting line at the perfect time. Or perhaps I see a common bond through my own literary fiction—or my own life.
I’m more of an author than a reader, and that has nothing to do with desire and motivation, but rather time. I am one who is always battling time. Therefore, I know what genres I’m genuinely drawn toward. Autobiographies are one of said genres.
My Struggle has been labeled as autobiographical fiction. This is part of the names used and perhaps the jumbled memories of the author. However, it’s not a fantasy, everything is based on Knausgaard’s life as he remembers it. If you can find me a person who says they remember every precise detail of their life, then you have found me a liar.
In episode six (how delightfully accidental) of the television series Clarice, a therapist says to the mentally-damaged young FBI agent, “Everything is tinged with experience.”
In other words, experience may slightly alter fact because it can tend to be viewed subjectively. That raises the question: Is anything truly an autobiography then? Which also raises another question: Is most literary fiction autobiographical? Authors tend to take situations from real life and insert it into their prose when the genre calls for it. However, it’s safe to say the answers to both are yes and no.
That didn’t clear anything up.
Knausgaard’s style can be maddening to some readers. Some become exasperated with the excessive use of minute details, but there is valid reasoning to such confidence in filler and fluff. The strange double standard is that over-describing is allowed in some genres and not others. I’ve heard readers complain about autobiographies or literary fiction having too much detail, but then they love epic fantasy. Each involves a world you nothing about and yearn to discover, so why should it be stereotyped, and therefore only permissible in one genre or the other? Writing is writing. Creativity is creativity.
As an author, I believe that every single word matters to a story, and you must love every word or it doesn’t belong. In a discussion I had with esteemed novelist Leslie Epstein, he said, “About cutting, you can be ruthless. Look closely at the passages you love the most; the reason you love them may be because, like one’s favorite child, they are the weakest. Out they go! Just make sure the storyline is clear and that reader will never be confused.”
Epstein also shared a quote from Rudyard Kipling, “It’s like poking a fire, no one knows you have done it but when people enter the room the flames are burning so much more brightly.”
Sometimes the fire is a bonfire, or a massive blaze consuming a city in the case of My Struggle. Every word is needed, and it is intimate to the author no matter what Knausgaard claims.
Book six is a different animal than books one through five. Knausgaard’s life was on full display in the prior volumes and it led readers to this point—the point of publication and revelation. We followed him through his adolescent years, adulthood, childhood, the various phases of fresh independence when life’s complexity is commonly exaggerated—which continues until maturity settles the fire.
Readers know everything about Knausgaard, from his reliance on cigarettes and coffee to the daily paths he strolls and the views he observes to even the most personal and intimate details of his life such as how successful his bathroom breaks and battles with sexual desire are. We become him, but he is us.
The main difference between books one through five and six is he was a nobody, just like us, and now he is writing as a somebody, unlike us. Yet, though that would seemingly eradicate this bond that had been formed between reader and author, person and person, Knausgaard’s style keeps him exactly as we know him in book six: human.
This is why the finite details are so important and should not be considered fluff or filler. He must prove that he isn’t an esteemed author, but rather just a man. It’s almost as if he is guilty, as if he abandoned humility, and us in the process, and must maintain and prove his worth as an everyday person. It would be daring to call it Christ-like, but wrong to leave that comparison out.
This is also something Knausgaard is used to doing: self-modulation. Strangely enough, and to counter my own point, self-modulation is actually the opposite of how people view their lives in the modern era of being “social.”
That is beside the point, however. The middle section of book six is where we find an unnecessary exaggeration by Knausgaard to prove said worth. We experience his love of literary analysis first-hand, which is greatly appreciated. As he works us through Proust, Joyce, Kafka, Hamsun, Mann, Faulkner, Dostoevsky and Dante, and inserts Hamlet and Don Quixote comparisons wherever he can, we delve more into not only his life in the literary world, but his passion.
Yet, he still downplays his importance in that very world by stating, “This is the novel’s basic constraint, chained as it is to life in the social domain, the way people are to each other, and the minute the novel departs from that human world and ventures into the nonhuman or the beyond-human of the divine, it dies.
Music can express it, and painting too, since their forms are wordless, their language another and nameless, as removed from the ‘I’ that employs it and the ‘I’ that perceives it as figures in a mathematical formula. Reading a novel after having listened to Bach’s cello suites is like leaving a sunset to descend into a cellar. The novel is the form of the small life, and when it’s not it is because it’s being deceitful and is no true novel at all, since no ‘I’ exists that isn’t small too” (pp. 425-426).
He’s implying that he is small life. Then, he takes something he isn’t strong at, analyzing poetry, and dissects the importance of individual entities in a a poem by Rainer Maria Rilke, which leads to another analysis of a Paul Celan work which transitions the word “ash” from literary line to tragic representation—which then leads the reader to the most controversial part of the entire six-book journey: Hitler and the Holocaust.
Yes, Knausgaard analyzes and picks apart Mein Kampf, but not only the words, but rather the life of the author.
He said of the work, “I usually always sniff the books I buy, the new ones as well as the old, putting my nose to the pages and breathing in their smell because I associated that smell, and the smell of old books in particular, with something good, that element of childhood that was unconditionally pleasurable. The adventure, the abandoning oneself to other worlds. But I could not do that with Mein Kampf. The book was evil, in some indefinable way.
Hitler’s book is no longer literature. What later happened, what he later did, the axioms of which are meticulously laid out in that book, is such that it transforms the literature into something evil. Hitler’s Mein Kampf is literature’s only unmentionable work” (p. 493).
It was a heavy experience for there were excerpts shared and history remembered. It went on for 353 pages and felt like an academic text. As Knausgaard searched for the meaning of evil, “you” and “I,” he wasn’t necessarily providing us with his exceptional analytical talents, but rather his defense. In his analysis of “I,” he is the literal and figurative “I” in every form. He needed to prove to himself, not us, that he could review and understand poetry; he needed to prove to himself, not us, that there’s no ideological similarity between Min Kamp and Mein Kampf; he needed to prove to himself, not us, that his novel, his glorious accomplishment, was truly relevant and remained chained to life in the social domain.
He needed to prove to himself, not us, that he’s just a man living his life.
And that’s why this book is beloved. He is us.
What is on the surface, a simple tale about a life that not many people would consider fascinating, is somewhat what My Struggle can be considered even after dedicating your time, part of your life to his 3,600 pages.
I always remember when I ordered the fourth volume from Barnes & Noble. The woman who was checking me out said with sarcasm on full display with no intention to be hidden, “Still going on about his struggle I see.”
Reference my aforementioned counter-point.
These unnecessary exaggerations to prove one’s worth aren’t actually a counter-point, you see. We all self-modulate below the book cover. It’s life. Knausgaard is infected with self-doubt from an insignificant being to the limelight and spent anxious years writing a book about him and his father.
There’s not much to analyze because of the way My Struggle is written. Knausgaard puts everything out there for the world to absorb—attempting to make analysis almost impermissible—similar to what we experience on social networking, but in single form. In the “I” form. He is constantly on the defense, guarded, vulnerable, as if he was on trial as we all seem to be.
My Struggle is needed. It’s brilliant because it’s human. Yes, it was about the “I” but it became “us.” What Knausgaard did for himself, what he did for the world, is greatly appreciated and will go down as one of the most significant pieces of literature in our history.