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Avanti
Avanti in Bloomington, MN
Current price: $16.99
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A native of Olympia, Washington, visual artist and musician
Alex Konschuh
launched his musical alter ego,
Malice K
, in D.I.Y. spaces in Los Angeles. Alongside a pair of EPs, he gained a reputation for his electrifying live shows before eventually relocating to New York upon drawing the interest of labels. He signed with
Jagjaguwar
for the release of
AVANTI
, his full-length debut. A combination of raw singer/songwriter confessionals, theater, unmitigated angst, bluesy garage rock, and a strong British Invasion influence -- expressly on the
Lennon
and
Burdon
side of the spectrum -- the album captures some of that electricity with both its volatility and charisma. In other words,
Konschuh
has the pipes and the presence required to stand apart from the crowd. The record opens with a literal scream on the unrepresentatively grungy "Halloween," a voice-straining, feedback-injected, part-mumbled, part-spoke-sung, part-shrieked rant about expectations -- his and others' of him -- not being met. The track list quickly turns toward a more melodic, quietly intense introspection that continues along themes of disappointment, loss, and lack, with passing washes of nostalgia. While it's not always clear on
if we're listening to a character or uncensored personal reflection, the wistful "The Old House," for one, was inspired by strangers moving into the house
grew up in, after his mother moved out under emotional circumstances. It's followed by a particularly
-esque entry, "Weed," which ups the volume and anxiety ("I'm talking to my brain/'Cause my only friend is gone away") while establishing one of
's lingering melodic hooks. He more closely evokes the fragility of
Elliott Smith
on "Radio," a track about being on the cusp of sobriety. It finds the singer accompanied by only guitar and strings to deliver sentiments like "I'm trying hard to be someone else/But someone else is already taken." Throughout the album,
Malice
sounds on the verge of either breaking down or exploding, whether on a more intimate ballad or a bristly rocker (and the line between the two is blurred here). Meanwhile, lyrics such as "You set me on fire and put me out" help illustrate this effect. With most of the songs clocking in at under three minutes, when the album ends on the dramatic, 127-second "Blue Monday," with its tight,
Beatles
-styled harmonies and death-stained lyrics, it feels abrupt, but that may be also due to
's refusal to deliver catharsis, breaks in the clouds, or healing. ~ Marcy Donelson
Alex Konschuh
launched his musical alter ego,
Malice K
, in D.I.Y. spaces in Los Angeles. Alongside a pair of EPs, he gained a reputation for his electrifying live shows before eventually relocating to New York upon drawing the interest of labels. He signed with
Jagjaguwar
for the release of
AVANTI
, his full-length debut. A combination of raw singer/songwriter confessionals, theater, unmitigated angst, bluesy garage rock, and a strong British Invasion influence -- expressly on the
Lennon
and
Burdon
side of the spectrum -- the album captures some of that electricity with both its volatility and charisma. In other words,
Konschuh
has the pipes and the presence required to stand apart from the crowd. The record opens with a literal scream on the unrepresentatively grungy "Halloween," a voice-straining, feedback-injected, part-mumbled, part-spoke-sung, part-shrieked rant about expectations -- his and others' of him -- not being met. The track list quickly turns toward a more melodic, quietly intense introspection that continues along themes of disappointment, loss, and lack, with passing washes of nostalgia. While it's not always clear on
if we're listening to a character or uncensored personal reflection, the wistful "The Old House," for one, was inspired by strangers moving into the house
grew up in, after his mother moved out under emotional circumstances. It's followed by a particularly
-esque entry, "Weed," which ups the volume and anxiety ("I'm talking to my brain/'Cause my only friend is gone away") while establishing one of
's lingering melodic hooks. He more closely evokes the fragility of
Elliott Smith
on "Radio," a track about being on the cusp of sobriety. It finds the singer accompanied by only guitar and strings to deliver sentiments like "I'm trying hard to be someone else/But someone else is already taken." Throughout the album,
Malice
sounds on the verge of either breaking down or exploding, whether on a more intimate ballad or a bristly rocker (and the line between the two is blurred here). Meanwhile, lyrics such as "You set me on fire and put me out" help illustrate this effect. With most of the songs clocking in at under three minutes, when the album ends on the dramatic, 127-second "Blue Monday," with its tight,
Beatles
-styled harmonies and death-stained lyrics, it feels abrupt, but that may be also due to
's refusal to deliver catharsis, breaks in the clouds, or healing. ~ Marcy Donelson
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