Very few artists can effectively do what I call “world building” with their music. King Krule proved with The OOZ that he is one of those rare talents. I define world building as the ability to create a sonic landscape; a little universe that a specific song or album exists within. But the perception of that landscape is not inherent to all music, it is created by the artist through an impeccable blending of sounds on a song, and the repetition of certain timbres throughout an album. In this case, I am examining world building at the song level with King Krule’s “Czech One.”
“Czech One” is a space-jazz lullaby for people who rarely sleep peacefully. It follows a mysterious character and his encounter with an equally mysterious woman. The setting in never directly stated, and very few lyrics deal with tangible things. Abstract ideas of isolation and heartache are presented secondhand. Our lonely protagonist reveals layers of himself through his interaction with this unnamed woman, which begins like this: “She asked me why I’m here, but I come here every night / Do you need to tell her something? No, I need a place to write.” Right off the bat, the song conjures all the dark romanticism of a noir film. The trend continues with the line “I’ve found a new place to mourn, she asked me who died.” Krule’s indirect and conversational style of songwriting hits the mark here, as each line adds intrigue to the story. You want to know what really happened, why this man is mourning in the night. You never get that satisfaction, though, just like the narrator is kept from his own peace of mind.
Such foggy songwriting requires an equally foggy musical backdrop. King Krule rises to the challenge, layering unexpected organic and synthesized sounds into a collage that depicts a smoky hangout on a halogen-lit street corner. Synthesizers buzz yearningly. They hit with just enough percussive force to resemble a tiny toy piano, but ring out long enough to feel like all the air between the ground and outer space. They repeat the same chords throughout the song; a source of chilling consistency. Organic saxophones and pianos crash into this icy wall of sound like returning to a jazz club after a cigarette on a winter night. King Krule’s curation of the sounds on this track is nuanced, unassuming, and utterly perfect. A self contained snow globe of a song, Czech One wraps you in the quiet, uneasy comfort of darkness. This is when the most genuine revelations and most profound sadnesses coexist.
Sources: Genius.com
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