Album Review: The KVB - Tremors (Invada Records)

The ninth album from The KVB, Tremors, is a gem of “dystopian pop,” an artfully constructed landscape of looming dread and bleak allure. The album brings Southampton's Nicholas Wood and Kat Day’s project to new depths, charging its coldwave and post-punk foundations with the anxieties of the present moment—societal decay, collective unease, and the ever-relentless march of time. In support of Tremors, The KVB returns to Bucharest at Control Club on November 13.

Historically, Tremors traces a line from the uncertain 1980s to today’s era of equal volatility. Just as Thatcher-era Britain left its mark on music, New Order, Cabaret Voltaire, and Factory Records’ roster, Tremors reflects today’s chilly political climate and pervasive social disillusionment. It blends the pop sensibilities of the band's 2021 release, Unity, with a grittier tone. While Unity embraced shoegaze-inspired optimism, Tremors revisits the shadowed atmospheres of early works like Always Then, reflecting a more pessimistic outlook and deeper distrust than before.

Opening with the foreboding tone of Negative Drive, the album immediately recalls a leaner and edgier take on The Jesus and Mary Chain. Wood’s detached vocals are serene and monotone, stacked with loneliness and disenchantment.

The album’s lead single, Labyrinths, stands out through palpable intensity. Drawing inspiration from Jorge Luis Borges's labyrinthine themes, it traps listeners within a thick and reverberating maze. Juxtaposing industrial tones and glitchy beats, it embodies the cyclical complexity where historical narrative and contemporary perspective clash.

The title track pulls us into the maelstrom with its chiming bass and restrained disco beat, supplanting euphoric optimism with reality-based skepticism. Wood’s line, “When the lights are blaring, and everyone is falling... away,” captures this blend of physical and existential isolation, albeit against a celebration of danceability.

Tremors furthers the fusion of past and present with Overload. With more driving synths and a soaring guitar, Overload looks out over a city from the precipice of departure. The drum machines, straight from the ’80s underground, merge seamlessly with the layered synths, urging listeners toward movement while maintaining reflectiveness.

A Thirst introduces a metallic edge and a distinct sense of unease, stretching the listener’s comfort zone like forgotten machinery grinding toward collapse. The track’s abrasive quality feels intentionally discordant, becoming Tremors' most pointed commentary on the dissonance of modern life. It is perhaps the best sonic reflection of the album's Brutalism-inspired cover art.

While Tremors leans heavily into rhythmic coldwave and post-punk, it also reveals a retro-futuristic noir quality. This cinematic nature peaks with Dead of Night, recalling the most introspective of Depeche Mode. The track unravels like a scene out of Blade Runner—lonely walks through the rain-soaked cyberpunk cityscape of the not-too-distant future.

To close it out, as guitars swell and Wood’s vocals retreat into deadpan chant, Dead End reaches emotional precipice through minimalism. Here, Tremors leaves an afterglow that’s part reflection, part resignation, as though we come to the end of our journey through uncertainty.

The KVB’s Tremors speaks to the anxieties of our present moment, compelling us to move through them rather than turn away. With this standout release, the band challenges us that, even in the shadows, there’s a rhythm worth dancing to.