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Kula Shaker
'K'
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Other Releases |
Peasants, Pigs and Astronauts |
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Album Summary |
Kula Shaker were once contemporaries of Blur and Pulp. This album probably stands as a testament to what went wrong: A few good singles and an album of pretentious fillers. Anyone who remembers Mark and Lard's Peela Tater , with their (dare I say it) far superior version of Tattva will probably find K difficult listening. |
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It’s 1996. The frontrunners of Britpop are churning out the musical equivalents of steak and kidney pie (crumbly and initially fulfilling riff (the crust) let down by a complete lack of surprise when you delve deeper into its musical intentions (steak/kidney, kidney/steak, or some other such analogy)). Suddenly some upstarts appear claiming to be able to mix a pinch of Indian mysticism into the Britpop pie (
enough of the extended metaphor - Ed). Sounds like a good idea, surely? Well, yes, like that seventh vodka Red Bull it did seem both big and clever at the time. But retrospect hasn't done much for the careers of Crispy Mills and co.
To be fair, their debut album K is not that bad. The hippy taunting wig-out of Grateful When You're Dead is nothing if not inspired. And Tattva still sounds unique in its melding of images of St George and Buddha, for all its obtuse aspirations. Unfortunately this is where Kula Shaker have let themselves down - the tunes are above average (even compared to the genius which was Northern Uproar…ahem), but the lyrics! Where do I start? If you spend your career "trying to see poetry within the shifting imagery of meaning" (Hollow Man Part 2), the chances are you might drift up your arse at some point.
And drift they did; within the space of only one album. There's something faintly embarrassing about white British kids approximating the religious and spiritual images of belief of a foreign culture to sell albums. In the same way as Madonna's continual shape-shifting strikes me as cynical rather than astute, finding yourself absent-mindedly singing along to Govinda's "Rahdha-ramanahari Govinda Jaya Jaya" with the suspicion that neither you - nor the band - really know what it means is an uncomfortable experience.
Contrary to their visions of Indian flavourings meaning profound songwriting, it is when Kula Shaker are at their most conventional that they are more affecting. The simple pain of rejection expressed in Start All Over ("Take me back, make me feel"), and 303 's ode to friends left at home, (the A303 in Devon, to be precise) are worth so much more than Magic Theatre's over-serious affectation of profundity.
So, parts of K will make you dance around the room like a leftover Grateful Dead groupie, while the rest might cause such adverse effects as cringing and wailing. Britpop, I take it back. I'm actually quite fond of steak and kidney pie. It just needs a sprinkle of salt and pepper now and then.
