Kulk – It Gets Worse | Album Review

Destructive Norwich based two-piece Kulk return with another helping of earth shattering noise tinged riffage mired in the suffering of the state of the world we find ourselves in with third full-length It Gets Worse.

Norwich’s Kulk have been cultivating a diehard fan base since initially forming in 2018. They started to draw more focussed attention with the release of their uncompromising and noisy debut album Here Lies Kulk in the midst of 2020. Following up swiftly in 2021 with sophomore outing We Spare Nothing, the band’s penchant for sonic devastation only grew in intensity, tightening their core of experimental noise, devastating doom and neck-wringing sludge. After finally taking advantage of being able to play live again and unshackled from the overbearing weight of lockdowns, Kulk’s third album, It Gets Worse is somehow even more relentless than what came before. 

It Gets Worse wastes little time in establishing its bleak atmosphere that permeates the album as a whole with the brief introductory track “More”, using samples that sound like a combination of screeching power tools and wailing feedback to generate an air of discomfort, leaving the listener with a touch of sampled speech and the question ‘looks familiar don’t it?’. “A Heavy Sigh” is the first track proper and swiftly unlocks the gates and unleashes a stampede of gurn-inducing, neck=pounding riffs. Vocalist/guitarist Thom Longdin channels his inner Jus Osbourne of Electric Wizard for the vocal performance, having that touch of manic rambling in between their soul crushing screams and unnerving cries, bolstered by drummer Jade Ashleigh adding haunting chants as backing vocals. 

The immediately following “Out Of Reach” takes its time to start, building anxiety in anticipation for the tension to pop. When it does, you’re locked into a track built around playing with dynamics and distortion, keeping the structures deceptively simple but oh so enticing. “Mammoth” is an incredibly fitting track name, unleashing torment in its opening breaths; piercing, screeching feedback and tortured screaming assault the speakers before bursting into a high-paced barn burner. The noisy feedback is a fixture of the guitar parts here, playing off the vocals in the mix; vocals that become increasingly unhinged and barely comprehendible, battered and fried with coatings of distortion. There is a pseudo sludge/noise breakdown around the halfway point whiplashing back and forth between chest pounding chords and wailing feedback.

Much like their previous effort We Spare Nothing, Kulk once again find themselves pairing up with Wayne Adams (Wallowing, Petbrick, Deafclub) for production, who once again does a spectacular job at showcasing the band’s unhinged, oppressive sounds. Thom’s guitar tones are unfathomably thick, building a true wall of noise to colour the neck-cracking riffs, while Jade’s drumming retains a raw analogue heft that is suitably pummelling on the toms and kick, with plenty of space for the cymbals and satisfying crack to the snare to cut through the thick layers of noise. There are still touches of synths dotted around the album as well, which sound excellent strewn throughout the oppressive soundscapes. The vocals run the gamut as well, at times almost completely swallowed by filters and distortion that sound like a broken AM radio in an intentional way and others clean as a whistle and eerily subtle. 

Lead single “Beyond Gone” comes through like a hypnotic battering ram, featuring a synth sample that doesn’t let up for the track’s run time, fading to and fro, waiting for the drums to call it back for an explosive reentry. “Fountain” comes as a welcome, if only momentary reprieve. The opening bass synth tones lock in with primal percussive work on the toms. There is an almost spoken word passage on top, it is quite unnerving in a way, a cult-like chant stacked with various layered harmonies as well. The vocals get more impassioned with the distant dissonant clean guitar chords striking harder. The tension is thick as molasses, continuing to grow as the song continues, its almost too much as the buzzsaw guitar feedback tones pierce the softer mix. When the instrumental kicks back in full force, with the discordant noisy guitars and violent hammering of the drums it sounds like the oncoming apocalypse.

Last full length track “Life Will Wait” features a guest performance from Adam Sykes, lead guitarist of psych/doom darlings PigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigsPigs, providing a low-key noise laden guitar solo, standing out and adding to the discordant and uncomfortable psychedelic nature of the track at hand. Opening with an acoustic guitar hook before bursting into stoner doom worship with massive droning blues riffs. Jade’s soft vocal chants are haunting and lend an unnerving edge to the gripping nod of the track. Outro instrumental “Less” is a fitting juxtaposition from “More”, soft acoustic guitar chords serenely strum to the tune of light humming as degraded radio samples are weaved throughout the background; initially giving the feeling of calm and hope, the samples start to warp and degrade further before the album comes to a dead stop.

It Gets Worse flies by in a flash of oppressive sonic punishment. At just under twenty three minutes long, its significantly leaner than the past two efforts, but that works in the albums favour. It’s noisy, its overwhelming and is the sound of fighting to stay afloat or as the band puts it: “What it feels like to not only struggle keeping your head above water but to try jumping out from the deep end without loosing your trunks”. It’s easy to see why there is a head of steam building around Kulk, It Gets Worse makes for another killer volume in their library of aural torment.