Alright, you sodden louts, ready thine ears because this here album will need to enter forthwith. We usually save that sort of statement for the second paragraph, using the first to build tension with a nice gentle lead-up, but if you want one of those, tough shit. This is your lead-up. Gapen your hearing holes and get ready to absorb one of the flat-out coolest albums of the year, coming from the Stockholm underground to deliver a baseball bat, wrapped in barbed wire and dipped in ayahuasca, straight to the trachea. VAK has arrived.
VAK reminds me of a dozen bands and doesn’t sound quite like any of them. The foundation is in sludge, but not the thundering, bottom-heavy kind. A closer comparison would be the ramble of The Melvins, with all the grunge bits replaced by screeching, feedback-laden meltdowns that tear at the flesh like meat hooks. The drums emphasize this slicing-over-bludgeoning focus; the snare hits the hardest, sometimes even recalling military drum rolls (“Speed of Images”). A hefty dose of noise-core atonality rubs salt and vinegar in the wounds, while waves of thick synthesizers carefully pick the right moment to flood the room with neon light before retreating to the background. The vocals are not pretty, not even especially skilled, but between the wheezing, venomous screams and the acerbic spit-spraying over-pronunciation, there is a biting vigor, raging at the dregs of society with a dark madness that borders on the theatrical, and it’s exactly what the music requires.
Instrumental opener “Passport” is the most synthy of all, suckling greedily from the teat of darkwave and lulling you into a false sense of cyberpunk security, but that blanket is torn to shreds as soon as “Panorama” begins its nasty and distorted broadcast. VAK quickly proves itself a capable unit in both song- and albumcraft, and though some tracks are comparable, none feel remotely like the band is repeating a step. “Sewer Café” flits between a burly punk rhythm that feels like navigating an overcrowded downtown with a panic attack, and a crushing riff that leaves downtown a smoking crater. “Q&A” finds vocalist Jesper Skarin at his most rabid, hissing intonations through clenched teeth, stressing every consonant leaking with pure rage.
From there on out, The Islands enters more psychedelic territory, employing more cyclical patterns that nonetheless manage to stay interesting through the subtle evolution of the many textures and a solid sense of rising and plunging. Still, the back-to-back “Speed of Images” and “The Map” don’t manage to hit quite as hard as the preceding material.1 Thankfully, there is “Bodies” to raise the bar with an excellent jagged and barbed hook, absolutely crushing and demented riffs, and the mad refrain of ’MASSES FOR REVIEW’ likening packed public transportation to slaughterhouse trucks. It’s a dark and mighty highlight before “Melody Junkie” bookends the album beautifully, asking ’What would be the melody we fight for and makes us disagree?’ before answering the question by bringing back the synths from “Passport,” mangled and distorted. I do love a good callback.
The Islands is not pretty, polished perfection. The lengthier tracks could benefit from a shave, though the album does not feel too long overall. Some details leave me scratching my head, and the bewildering lyrics manage to be both on-the-nose in their expression and opaque in their meaning. But it’s all part of the weird and wonderful nightmare the album pulls you into. It’s rare enough to find a band with a voice wholly its own these days, but VAK pulls it off with daring authenticity, killer songwriting and absolutely rancid atmosphere. The Islands is an absolute treat and one that I will definitely make room for in my year-end list.
Rating: 4.0/5.0
DR: 6 | Format Reviewed: PCM
Label: Indie Recordings
Websites: vakband.bandcamp.com | facebook.com/vaksthlm
Releases Worldwide: September 1st, 2023
