Kurs
Murder (P. 1)
Swiss Dark Nights
One-man Italian act Kurs has had both its musical aesthetic and a unique approach to LP release locked in from its 2021 debut, and isn’t deviating from that approach the third time out. As with preceding Kurs records, Murder (P. 1) isn’t just a concept record in and of itself but also ships with a graphic novel fleshing that concept out. Lacking said book we can only presume that this is intended as the first volume of an ongoing series of records/books, but you don’t need that larger context in order to appreciate Valerio Rivieccio’s yen for moody and stormy electro-industrial.
Kurs remains a project which rewards focused headphone listening rather than club fodder hunting, and the loping rhythmic slither and numbly distorted hums on lead single “Weapon” are a great demonstration of why we’ve been waiting so keenly for Kurs’ next move. The ebb and flow of the track’s build and release is considered and never rushed, building towards churning drums and acidic vocals, but along the way there’s much in the way of satisfying and finely textured programming that’s catnip to the seasoned rivethead. Those moves don’t just take the form of traditionally noisy elements, either; opener “Precinct” gradually expands in scope, pulling back from the minimal, chilly EBM pulse of its first moments into a more cinematic mode framed by horns.
As always, Kurs is a project whose roots are easy to spot if one cares to look for them, but Murder (P. 1) never comes up short even in that sort of perspective. The influence Front Line Assembly has on Kurs, which has always been detectable in the corners of the preceding records, becomes more apparent on a number of pieces here, as on the Leeb-esque chorus of “Murder” and on the galloping programming of “Basement” which treads the line between martial bombast and pure clattering chaos. Lifts like that don’t necessarily hit the most overt aesthetic or musical cues other bands have taken from FLA, though, and as with preceding LPs Muter and Dreamer so much work has gone into building up Kurs’ own world of sound and atmosphere that these moments (or the occasional parallel with mid-period Haujobb) feel like tips of the hat and never overt coattail riding.
The imagery conjured by Murder (P. 1)‘s titles and lyrics are plenty evocative even sans accompanying text, and it’s easy to build a Deus Ex or Dark City inspired landscape in your mind’s eye as you listen. If that all sounds like nostalgia for cyber-dystopias of the past rather than the one we’re living in, fair enough, but once again Kurs have put so much work into their craft that the histories they’re drawing upon soon fade from the listener’s mind as they enjoy Kurs qua Kurs.
