Some acts operate best under the radar or in the shadows. Much to their own (probable) frustration, mainstream appreciation is out of their reach, but the freedom such a lack of pressure allows garners much more interesting results.
The KVB (in fact couple Nicholas Wood and Kat Day), officially described as an audio-visual project – broadly, Wood provides the music while Day creates the visuals – have lurked menacingly beneath the surface for over ten years and five albums, and have been afforded the space and time to develop their own soundscapes. Unity is the finest realisation of their creativity to date.
Unsurprisingly, it’s a very visual piece of work, laden with imagery that, even if the song titles weren’t giving the listener a steer, would be apposite. Opening track Sunrise Over Concrete blinks and percolates into life, the synths building until they become all-consuming as the sun does when it announces its arrival. Pretty on the surface, the undertones of dread perfectly capture a picture of 21st century city industrial life.
Quasi-title track Unite follows (opening line: ‘Reconstruction of a nation, unity their habitation’), throbbing and clacking in the vein of Kraftwerk, which is an obvious but inevitable comparison.
The KVB know as much too, describing the track as their homage to Berlin. European desolation to music, with a spooky pensive synth riff holding the whole thing together.
The more upbeat Unbound follows, and for the first time sees Wood and Day singing as one. Day’s voice provides the ethereal atmosphere necessary as verse, giving way to a wave of subtle electronica as chorus before the two combine. Then both are sent packing by Edge-like guitar which elevates an already strong song.
The whip-crack beat and snarling keys of Future well align the positive and negative sensibilities of the album, chillingly shimmering to convey a mood of hopelessness (The KVB’s initial experience of the pandemic). Glimpses of euphoria are there in the groove, but are suppressed by the concise lyrics (‘our future, no future’).
Meanwhile, Blind is the type of electronic music that’s played in nightclubs in the movies but never in real life, and over a good PA system undoubtedly sounds devastating. Containing mighty guitars and dark beats, it’s the type of track Death In Vegas would happily put their name to.
The angelic but unnerving delivery, by Day, of the title of Ideal Living is the only constant, as it weaves from dystopian atmospherics to sky-kissing beats. The album’s themes (architecture, alienation, utopian/dystopian futures) are all contained within its four-and-a half-minute duration, but it never feels overcrowded. One of Unity’s many positives is the space it affords every sound and section.
And then, almost from nowhere, World On Fire announces itself. A slice of glorious 1980’s shoegaze with a motorik beat and dual vocals from the pair once again, it’s so infectiously melodic that it could easily be played on daytime radio and not be out of place. Wood’s monotone vocals work perfectly in dichotomy with Day’s lighter touch generally, but when set to a straight-forward song structure the results are thrilling.
The closing three numbers follow through on its vibe; Structural Index has a Hooky-esque bassline throughout, Lumens is dream pop once more and closer Omni sees the pair dryly summarising the album in mood and robotic sounds, unconsciously evoking the krautrock of Toy in the process.
Electronic albums are rarely succinct, but at less than 40 minutes Unity leaves the listener salivating. One of those albums where you immediately head back to the beginning to experience the adventure again.
A real treat.
