Billed as primer for the Chicago quartet Disappears’ fourth full-length, to be released later this year, the freshly minted three-song EP Kone is a hypnotic dose of psyched-out Post Punk, an ominous soundtrack to a world that seems as dangerous and disturbing as ever.
The title track opens with three minutes of what sounds like faintly echoing air-raid sirens. A sparse drumbeat and the occasional reverberating guitar line nudge their way in before, about five minutes along, a faint groove emerges. Frontdude Brian Case’s indecipherable vocals, which sound like a British guy mumbling about something or other (Margaret Thatcher’s recent demise, perhaps?), enter at about the seven-minute mark, appearing off and on thereafter. An even sturdier groove eventually locks into place amid dissonant keyboard flavorings, resulting in 16 minutes of atmospheric unease that wouldn’t be out of place within Sonic Youth’s more experimental outings. (Point of fact, SY drummer Steve Shelley is a former member.)
The second song, “Kontakt,” brings to mind Girls Against Boys’ House of GVSB apex, employing a menacing groove over which surf guitars clang and echo and Case’s eerie, equally hazy vocal utterances spill forth. The EP closer, “Kone (edit),” is a shorter but no less potent version of title track, all of which should sound appropriately bad-ass when presented via Disappears’ tension-laced live show.