Album Review - King Krule: Space Heavy
STRONG 7/10
King Krule’s biggest hits include “Baby Blue” and “Easy Easy.” (Photo courtesy of Stereogum)
First-time listeners of Archy Marshall, otherwise known as King Krule, might mistake the 28-year-old for an world-weary older man based on his raspiness and deep pitch, but the London-native looks even younger than his age. This is the enigma of Krule; an irreverent artist who could be crooning the most romantic lyrics with the grimiest delivery imaginable. Space Heavy is Krule’s long-awaited fourth album, following the critical disappointments that were Man Alive! (2020) and The OOZ (2017). These past LPs were ambiguously incoherent in terms of performative and stylistic consistency, but Space Heavy is amorphous in all the right ways.
“Flimsier”’s abrasive synths hit like a truck as the album’s opener, but transitions into a gentle soliloquy of an innocent lover who wonders why his partner has given up on him; “She said "It seems like these days merge as one"/Oh, I tried to change them to better ones/But you called it a day/And now it's through/I don't throw it away/That's what I do.” The song ends like a hollow plea for help, which makes the punkish “Pink Shell” an incongruent successor, even with its appropriately unadulterated aggression that seems to come as a result of the first track.
“Seaforth” feels like an ode to shoegaze legends like the Cocteau Twins with its occasional guitar riffs that act as makeshift call and response for Krule to continue his indulgence of sensual existentialism; “I see you, the same eyes/Reflect the world that falls apart.” The refrain of “Baby, this faith is all I have” emphasizes the recurrent theme of desperation for co-dependence that Krule yearns for throughout Space Heavy.
Krule returns to his blues-adjacent roots on “Empty Stomach Space Cadet”, as the track is provided with hints of saxophone, while Krule softly reads off his fatalistic fears of love. The final minute or so of the track swells up with a powerful guitar crescendo that soon becomes accompanied by a myriad of complementary instruments that capture the raw intensity of the song. “Hamburgerphobia” has a similarly pacey drum-beat to “Empty Stomach Space Cadet”, but is more reliant on a strict set of guitar melodies that give Krule the leeway to speak uninterrupted.
Krule starts to slip back into sonic complacency with the final few tracks on Space Heavy, but even the most dull moments are palatable because of the clear care that is taken with the nuanced production, even if Krule does not match their quality.
Space Heavy is a husky behemoth that is enjoyable in the same way that watching a Criterion Collection film is in all its self-deprecating glory. Krule not only articulates his most irrational and illogical thoughts into moments of incessant fervor, but he does so in a manner that enables listeners to invest into his feelings because of their pronounced authenticity.