By now its a common theme. A 'classic' band begins life at the dawn of modern extremity in the late 70's. Cue their golden era of untouchable material, followed by an inevitable shift into commercial territory. Throw in a hiatus for good measure, with perhaps a pinch of lineup instability here and a hatchet or two being buried there. Let it boil for a few years beyond the millennial shift of the 2000's and voila! Here comes the career resurgence featuring that glorious and inevitable 'return to form.' We've seen bands from Iron Maiden to Kreator to Metallica do this, and not a few of these acts have managed to spoil their fans with some wonderful, age defying albums guaranteed to stand up to the classics.
London, England's venerable and vicious Killing Joke is a band that, arguably, has been coming so close to its classic era of late that it is at the very least equaling, if not slightly surpassing, its own long-ago rise to stardom. From their self-titled 2003 reformation album and on up to 2012's magnificent MMXII, the band who influenced everyone from Trent Reznor, Al Jourgensen, Metallica, Fear Factory, and Soundgarden, out to Jane's Addiction and My Bloody Valentine, has been positively laying waste to their contemporaries. On the 23rd of October, 2015, Killing Joke will be releasing Pylon, their fifteenth studio album, on Spinefarm Records. With the unassailable strength exhibited by their past several releases, the cynical fan might think the band is finally due for a clunker.
The core lineup of supreme founding vocalist Jaz Coleman along with founding strings-men Kevin "Geordie" Walker on guitar and Martin "Youth" Glover on bass guitar has been solid since 2002, while founding drummer Paul Ferguson came back into the fold in 2008. The meantime has been lights out, full steam ahead for Killing Joke, and it only takes one spin of Pylon to be assured that this trend is still swinging for the skies. To tease their fans, the band released a few singles early. "I am the Virus" strikes with the immediacy of punk rock, the repetitive, catchy hell-storm of industrial, with Ferguson's rollicking tribal drumming and of course Coleman's apocalyptic sneering diatribe to distinguish it even further. A carpet-bombing of pure fury, this is truly the "spirit of outrage" made manifest in song. Just enough creepy effects lend it the atmospherics this band is so adept at integrating.
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By contrast the next single "Euphoria" goes down smooth with its gorgeous synth (courtesy of Reza Udhin 2005-present) and melodic vocal lines. Coleman sings in that new wave style he tried out in the middle 80's and perfected on songs like 'In Cythera' (MMXII) and "European Super State" (Absolute Dissent).
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Coleman gives another heartfelt clean sung performance on "Big Buzz," which mixes synth with a guitar and bass guitar that are high enough in the mix to avoid the pitfalls they dealt with on their more commercial releases. On "Delete" the band mix heavy riffs with a pulsating industrial pace that results in a dance-floor heaviness full of apocalyptic yet maudlin grace. Hypnotic, the production is perfectly inflated, sounding hands-on with just the right amount of programming. Walker's guitar sounds absolutely incredible.
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In the past, Killing Joke has made slower songs with repetitive loops, his grating vocal lines a harrowing polemic over top of the racket. On Pylon, songs like "New Cold War" and "War On Freedom" keep a more medium pace, lending a more punk rock feel to the tunes which keeps the energy level high. The songs breathe more, moving silkily through underground tunnels spider-webbed with political graffiti. This mood of movement within a movement is the zeitgeist of rebellion, perpetrated by men whose age has given them so much more than a knee-jerk anti-establishment reaction to perceived injustices. Opener "Autonomous Zone" resonates these feelings with a hypnotic industrial overtone pierced by percussive blasts. The rhythm and roll of the song's structure is pure Killing Joke. Infectious pacing meets the apocalyptic echo of Coleman's inimitable voice in a dark alley. One can picture banks of grainy televisions, their electron beams forming pixellated scenes of uprisings, bombings, and lying, grinning political puppets. These visuals will come each time Pylon is blasted. Like any Killing Joke album, it begs to be played loud.
Where in the recent past they've closed with thoughtful, poetic slow burners such as "Ghosts of Ladbrook Grove" (Absolute Dissent) or "On All Hallow's Eve," (MMXII) Killing Joke opts to once more keep the pace up with album closer "Into The Unknown." Upbeat, catchy, and fluid, the chorus has a slight Fear Factory-esque appeal with respect to that band's more sprawling clean sung pieces like "Resurrection" (Obsolete – 1998) or "Regenerate" (2015 – Genexus).
A pylon, according to Google, is an 'upright structure that is used for support or navigational guidance.' In sports terms, particularly ice hockey, it can be used with derision to describe a slow, unwieldy player who gets smoked by opponents. For pioneers Killing Joke, they are anything but the typical definition of this term. This album is more of a blueprint, an edifice, or a magnum opus of exquisitely powerful resonance. Fit for any era of outrage at the ruling class, it comes dressed for the future while rooted firmly in the venerated past. Carefully crafted, yet executed with a youthful, basement-jam exuberance, Pylon could wind up being the best Killing Joke album in a long, long time. Just how long is up for argument, but the fact that the argument could take place in 2015 is a testament to the staying power of this majestic beast. Long may they live.
