On April 16, 2018, King Krule played an unforgettable show at the Fox Theater in Oakland, and he absolutely rocked the house. Kelsey Lu opened the show with ethereal solos on her cello played softly and with emotion, as she crooned about holy ghosts, dream visions, and thwarted love. Lu stood central, swaying back and forth in her bohemian garb, balancing repetitive, meditative lyrics, like “Fire from down low,” between lonely, ringing strum plucks that vibrated throughout. Almost the entire crowd stood still, perhaps daring to shuffle a foot, listening to Lu’s voice fill the relatively intimate cavern at the Fox. While certainly a unique contrast to the bobbing mass that swarmed in a massive mosh pit during Krule’s performance, the pairing went well, giving the concert some balance.
As the young crowd pushed forward in anticipation for the main event, forming a flustered pit before the stage, anticipation built. Krule, the project of Archie Marshall, opened with the subdued “Baby Blue,” a lyrical, slow moving jazz ballad weighted down by a surprisingly cool, though still deep voice from Marshall.
Slowly the band picked up steam, following up with “Biscuit Town,” a song characterized by typically abstract, cosmic introspective lyrics that often touch on heartbreak and depression. Marshall has been open about dealing with issues of insecurity and mental illness in the past, uncomfortable with what he considers his awkward, skinny frame that belies the glass scarred baritone voice that comes out in growls on some of his best tracks. While the set list for the night was unbelievable, stretching across Marshall’s growing catalogue, highlights included “Dum Surfer,” “Sublunary,” and “Emergency Blimp” which played right into “Half Man Half Shark,” turning the crowd into a bobbing frenzy of sweat and screams.
King Krule’s music in many senses seems to be an attempt at escape and transfiguration of dark feelings and lonely thoughts. In the unique blend of influences that combines post-punk, rap, jazz, and dub, Marshall is able to unite a musically diverse crowd to his shows. Additionally, the crowd was most enthusiastic for tracks off The Ooz (2017), Archy’s most confident effort to date, that still shows growth while building off a familiar style seen in the work he has released under a variety of names.
At age 24, Marshall seems assured and inspired in his unique style, though he could risk stagnating artistically as seen with several Mac Demarco albums recently that seem to be reproducing the same style that brought him success from the depths of the Canadian Indie underground. Marshall’s next album will be a good bell-weather for how he may progress musically into the future.
Krule’s studio work certainly retains a polished charm, but as a live performance with bass, guitar, and saxophone backing him up a raw energy develops that feels more inspired and wild, building off the energy of the specific crowd.
The following poem is the culmination of a night drenched in sweat, in the colliding of bodies, of an incredible electric performance, inspired specifically by King Krule, but also the mosh pit experience in general, and the sensation only live music can give.
Thrashing bodies,
Swirling, sweat-drenched chaos.
Electric bodies flailing
In pools of sound,
Raw growl of sentiment sweet.
Motley crews of stoner hipster freaks
Slow swaying, open eyed people of the night
Stirred into ecstatic frenzies,
While Blue Boy
Howls and growls up
Boiling entrails, colored
Archy Marshall, more widely known as King Krule, performs onstage. Photo by Gabe Giamarrco, edited by Jack Austin.
Artwork by Quynh Uong.
Moaning sweet kid,
Broken and raw,
Laughing, cackling madman
Writhing in circles
Fender churning out melodic beastly sounds,
Delivered to the bobbing mash,
Red-eyed youth inhaling the bass steady,
The rocking drums, and the sax smooth.
And that voice like moonshine loverman,
Raging, guttural thoughts,
Shaking it all together,
A wild, floating mass of sound
And Blue Boy still up there
Pouring himself, (eyes close to bursting),
Into the microphone, and out into that swirling mob of sweat and tears.
Out there where I spastically cavort
Feeding off the stoned madness,
Life’s hot breath on the waving hands
Peace sign prayers
Photo by Gabriel Giammarco, edited by Jack Austin.
Earnest worship of some prophetic devil striving
For glory or beauty or the breath of a dancer.
Blue Boy moans,
Blue Boy groans,
In the scar tissue night.
Blue Boy
Article and Poetry by Jack Austin