Khanate - Skin Coat

Alan Dubin has one of the crazier voices (and one of the more reasonably terrifying lyricists) on the market. But it's perfectly suited to the sonic assault that is Khanate. The plodding, ominous, depraved, intense assault that is Khanate.

Though I most enjoy their most recent album (Capture & Release), there are amazing moments on all their albums, of which "Skin Coat," taken from their eponymous debut, is one. Compared to later works, this song moves along at lightning speed, and its fullness is impressive. Listening over Khanate's catalogue, it's obvious how much importance they place on space, how interested they are in the idea. They're probably the best band that I've ever heard at manipulating space, knowing when to fill it, when to leave it empty. They are not afraid of silence (maybe not quite so unafraid as John Cage, but close).

"Skin Coat" is chilling, as much of Khanate's work is. Dubin's repeated "shhh" works to such an effect, certainly. And, again, the space issue is important here, imbuing the work with a claustrophobia-inducing feeling, leaving no stone unturned in the quest to create something truly sinister sounding. The rest of the band is just as intense, in a restrained way——pushing and pulling at their respective instruments, pushing and pulling at space and time within the song's structure. Building, tearing down. They mimic the sinister quality of Dubin's vocals almost perfectly; the section beginning at about 5:10 being the greatest example: a cohesion of vision, violence and malice seething just below the surface.

Intensely, violently beautiful.