Knut destroys. Wonder is the new Knut album. Therein, it also destroys. Wait, if Knut destroys, and this is a creation of Knut, is Wonder therein a destructive force by proxy? Or is it allowed to breathe on its own and be destructive? Is proxy relative to the Knut-ish whole or a creation of force? What is force? Who are we if we are not Knut? We are but simple humans caught in the metallic whirlwind that is Wonder. And so it shall be: we cannot attain Knut, though we can own it.
Here’s the deal: 5 years ago, Knut was a band, then I assume there weren’t for awhile. They were out in Switzerland, and due to my limited knowledge of the area, I assume they were kicking asses and devoting their time to neutral stances on world politics. And doing cool-dude shit. I assume they did some drinking and drugs and laughed at the poor, lifeless souls using metal as a brand name rather than a conquest portal. Then, in 2009, they decided they’d had enough, rose from the dusted pavements of their metropolis to reign down significant riffage and power upon us. And, in return, we cower and kneel before their power, as we should.
All that said, I’m sure these are just some dudes who are amazing at making records and do it when they feel like doing it. But this records beckons my hyperbole center. The big red buttons labeled “YES” and “WOAH” are flashing. The dexterous, yet solid, walls of guitars do not entrap, but invite. The aggressive screaming boils the blood. The ultra-loud drumming vibrate the inner-ear. All the while, you look at those around you and, ahem, wonder what they would think of the hull-crush depth and drone of such animated brilliance.
I mean, how can I stop from slipping into unadulterated worship when I like an album this much? Genre be damned. “Ultralight Backpacking” rips through the listener with an intro that slowly and creepily builds, wave-like– best seven minutes of the morning commute. “Damned Extroverts” is a study in perfectly-calculated stop-start fury. “Suckers” is a full-noise barrage, scientifically proven to give you adrenaline without any effort on your part. Then, there’s “Fast Forward Bastard.” It’s so amazingly sludgy and weighed-down in demolition, it’s impossible to tell the precise point you give yourself over to the band fully. There’s something about a Northern European man screaming “Such a Bastard” at the top of his lungs that motivates me. Wonder is hard as bone, but just as easily shattered force.
Wonder is weighted and freeing. Purposeful, sure, but that is minimalistic thinking for this array of slaughtering sounds. Manic, demonic, marinated in loathing, but ultimately cathartic and jarring, Knut leaves nothing to be desired when they decide to create. The listener is not left with their hate or their barrage of sound. Instead, the listener is left with a montage of labor and stimulation. The last word is key: Knut stimulates rather than tries to bog the listener. Perhaps it’s unintentional, but in hearing “If We Can’t Fly, We’ll Take the Boat” the destruction-by-way-of-calculation is there. I challenge you to defy it. You’ll fail and that might bring you closer to the level of damning brilliance Knut’s genre calcifies. We are not Knut, but we know they exist. We observe their method. If metal is to be ignored so widely, then why does it exist in such a grand form? The answer, my friends, is swirling in the fantastical Wonder.
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