Sleigh Bells - Kid Kruschev (Album Review)

In a world defined by genres and categories, it is purely refreshing to see a band blur the lines. Brooklyn-based noise pop band Sleigh Bells has been defying genres for nearly a decade, as their 2010 debut album Treats dazzled alternative charts and critics alike. Coupling the saccharine, melodic voice of frontwoman and vocalist Alexis Krauss with producer/guitarist Derek Miller’s gritty and atmospheric instrumentals, the duo has truly found a unique sound all of their own. Their latest release, a mini-album entitled Kid Kruschev via their own label Torn Clean, is a massive departure from their earlier efforts, largely trading heavy guitar riffs for lavish synth instrumentation and rich symphonic textures, all while maintaining the heavy/soft juxtaposition the band is revered for.

The seven-track LP opens with humble introduction “Blue Trash Mattress Fire”, sampling  Krauss’ distorted cries with an intensifying clockwork synth groove. Almost unexpectedly, the track jumps headfirst into an explosive, guitar-fueled breakdown: “I used to drink gasoline in the morning,” wails frontwoman Alexis Krauss over the churn of reverberated strings. Following is “Favorite Transgressions”, a similarly heavy track fueled with 70’s hard rock guitar tones and a grandiose chorus worthy of the pop charts. This track is a huge vocal highlight on the album for Krauss and–coupled with tinges of layered harmonies during the refrain–makes for one of Sleigh Bells’ most radio-friendly tracks to date.

At this point in the album, the energy begins to fall: third track “Rainmaker” is introduced with a promising indie rock beat, which unfortunately finds itself to be lackluster while the strings fall flat. That is not to say that the song does not have potential: the layered harmonies as Krauss sings “superfluous, goddamn” is one of the most admirable and intricate vocal moments on the album, but the track quickly falls short with an aimless, lost instrumental section and lyrical repetition up the wazoo.

With a name like “Panic Drills”, it is baffling why the fourth track is so monotonous–retro arpeggiation quickly evolves into crunchy power chords over Krauss’ meditations, but soon enough the track begins to drag and trip on its own feet. The lyricism seems all over the place (with Krauss’ refrain of the same batch of lines) without any connection to each other.

However, the preceding track “Show Me the Door” begins to pick up the speed of the album, even if for a minute, opening with a dark electro-pop beat. While the synth chords hovering above the beat seem unappealing and even silly, the track does possess some form of life that is purely lacking in other tracks on the LP.

Yet, the last two tracks on the album offer a glimmer of hope–“Florida Thunderstorm” is a rarity on the album, a charming acoustic tune that is equally poetic and humbling. Again, Krauss’ vocal capabilities truly shine on this track and the minimalist instrumentation only further accentuate her sweet intonation.

The album’s closer and lead single “And Saints” is both not Sleigh Bells and truly Sleigh Bells. Featuring atmospheric, gritty production and vulnerable lyricism, the track is shockingly earnest and humbling. Without guitars to accompany Krauss’ voice, the tune can be compared to that of a sensation depravity tank–one is wholeheartedly left to their own devices in a pool of unnerving peace.