When I first saw the cover to King Woman’s sophomore album Celestial Blues, depicting mastermind Kristinia Esfandiari as the fallen angel Lucifer, photographed from behind, with a torn garment, in an outfit alluding to sex, the back featuring raw, open wounds at the places where the archangel’s wings had been, I had to think of Marina Abramović. The visual material to Celestial Blues, from the album’s cover to the blood orgy that is the video to the track Psychic Wound, shares with the performance art of the Serbian artist a willingness to go to bloody extremes to make one’s point. Abramović famously cut, burned and whipped herself on stage, was poked and molested by members of the audience, in order to prove what people are capable of doing if there’s no one to stop them.
Digging further I found that at the root of the biographies of both artists lies a family member’s rigid understanding of Christian religion; and in both instances, there were parents who probably meant well, but who traumatized their child with their methods of upbringing. Born to a Serbian mother and an Iranian father, Esfandiari was raised in a Charismatic Christian belief, which includes believing in spiritual gifts, evil spirits, exorcisms, speaking in tongues and every-day miracles. A struggle to come to terms with her childhood experiences has shaped the music and the lyrics of previous releases by King Woman and it plays an important role on Celestial Blues as well. But Esfandiari is far from being crushed by her experiences. Instead, she uses them, well aware of the fact that the origin of her suffering is also the origin of her art. The same is true for Marina Abramović.
The most prominent allegory of the current album, referenced in one way or other on numerous tracks, is Lucifer’s fall from grace. In that well-known tale, pride, ambition and a thirst for knowledge transport Lucifer, the light bringer, the morning star, from an existence at God’s side to the universe’s catacombs. King Woman retell that tale on Celestial Blues, but from a different angle. The music they employ to tell that story, in combination with the conclusions they draw, is simply outstanding, making their new album one of the best, most-conclusive and most intriguing releases of the year so far.
The album’s first track Celestial Blues starts out where the band’s last album left off, with the sound mixture King Woman are known for. Crushing atmospheric doom, wearing heavy on the shoulders and the psyche, is paired with Esfandiari’s whispered, hesitant, musing, shoegaze vocals. The impression you get from this combination is that of the weight of the world pressing down on the brittle human protagonist.
Morning Star, the second song, is central to the album’s story, and was the first track to be released from the album. It deserves to be singled out for multiple reasons, not at least because due to the soundscape’s character the work and the contribution of King Woman’s drummer and guitarists shine in their full light here. The story of the fall and the resulting tumult, the acceleration of the descent, the terrible complications can all be heard in the beastly drumming of Joseph Raygoza and Peter Arendorf’s guitar riffs.
In the track’s beginning, Lucifer, the morning star, impersonated by Esfandiari, introduces herself and tells her story from a first-person perspective. The song’s lyrics are a piece of genius all by themselves. Despite being held short, they manage to create a multi-faceted portrayal of Lucifer’s character, including notions of pride, deep emotional pain and even a sense of humour. “Pleased to meet you,” says Lucifer. “I harp six strings in the daylight.” The most ingenious bit of the track’s lyrics and central to the message of the whole album is when Lucifer reminds the listener that “It could have been you” and asks them not to “judge the things that I do.” Can you think of a more Christian request? And it’s being put to you by the devil. The one-take video to the track Morning Star featuring an extremely convincing Kristina Esfandiari as Lucifer, both, alien and frightening, and congenial and evoking sympathy, is an absolute must see.
The album’s remaining 7 tracks which I obviously can’t all address in similar detail here thematize the multiple forms of suffering that human beings may encounter in this plane of existence – from unhealthy sexual relationship to drugs, separation from loved ones, lies, betrayals, and the unescapable hell of Golgotha. The album’s music, all in all, is much more diverse than the tags I found assigned to it. Doom and shoegaze are recognizable elements, sure, but they don’t fit every track on the album. Rock would be a much more fitting description that might also speak to a broader audience. In any case, this is not music that cares for belonging to a genre.
Regarding the variety of the album’s soundscapes, there are two more tracks that I’d like to mention, because they in a way represent extremes. The first one is Golgotha. The name refers to the place where Jesus was crucified and where the culture-defining image of the western world stems from. In the album’s saddest tunes, introduced by a folky melody, played out initially solely on a guitar, the never-ending circle of suffering is thematized, and towards the end of the track a violine can be heard, adding additionally to the sadness. Coil, following right after Golgotha, is another stand-out track, but its predecessor’s complete opposite. An angry, rebellious, hardcoreish song, it speaks of victorious resistance in the face of brutal suppression, and has Esfandiari moving furthest away from her woeful whispers, singing in hoarse, throaty screams.
To conclude: Celestial Blues is a stunning, musically diverse, gripping, moving album. Kristina Esfandiari, with the support of her band mates, proves once again her outstanding talent. A talent that, like the best of artists, manages to channel adverse life experiences into exceptional art. Stressing the universality and omnipresence of suffering, King Woman employ music chiefly characterised by the combination of brutality and vulnerability to create something a wide audience can relate to and find solace in. I have absolutely no doubt that Celestial Blues will be on many an albums-of-the-year list and rightfully so, because this is music at its best.
(9/10 Slavica)
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