The Breakdown
Welcome once again to a rare encounter with the illusive Brighton art-punk duo Be Kind Cadaver. First sighted back in the post-Covid energy surge of 2022 with their debut EP ‘Post Partum’, Daniel Hignell-Tully and Leroy Brown released a venomous probe into the personal and political with a quartet of shell-shocked anti-pop songs. BSM dubbed their Ministry meets Jesus Lizard synth rock “a big sound to take on those bigger issues”. Then last year a further BKC statement burst out into the open with the grand, proto-rock anthem ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’.
In keeping with Hignell-Tully and Brown’s avant-art, agit-politico intentions ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’ appeared only on the band’s YouTube channel. A continuation in the shape of an imminent EP was rumoured but then nothing. Self-destruction could have been assumed but in reality BKC had entered a period of sound searching hibernation. Gigging frequently on the backroom gig circuit around Brighton and the Sussex coastal towns, the duo tweaked and twisted, wrenched and re-booted their songs in the company of hard punk exploders, doom metal merchants and outsider experimentalists. A retreat it was not…
But now Be Kind Cadaver have emerged from this singular sabbatical with the release of the long awaited ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’ EP/mini-album via Todmorden’s very own alt-indie curators Analogue Trash. It’s a set of tunes which, like their previous collection ‘Post Partum’, takes a time or event and exposes a deeper malaise. With the first BKC release the angst was expressed through the voice of a new parent but on ‘‘The World’s Greatest Mind’ the central character is railing against the government control in the past, present or future. It’s that personal/political tangle which again gives a chilling edge to BKC’s songs.
Welcome to the Falklands enters with a sneer, doom-laden synths tolling as a weary, shuffling electro beat trudges on. Hignell-Tulley’s part-croon part-rock drawl vocal is soon seething “You can take the Falklands if you want” while cooing background voices add some subtle pastiche without softening the song’s bite. The apathy soon switches to anger as the fingers start pointing. “Maybe we should find a place where we can make a list/of every shot you’ve taken and every shot you’ve missed” is a direct hit of a line, and you feel the EP has clearly kicked off.
The title track rejuvenates itself on the new EP, cinematic in scale and ambitiously allowed to flourish and swoon over a giddy nine minutes. From woozy synths and guitar twangs to a Bowie-esque operatic hook, the song builds and subsides without losing its way. Insistent Nine Inch Nail machined beats add to the tension but The World’s Greatest Mind is never a grind, the sudden sonic surprises, a melodica, handclaps, found sounds, a Springsteen sample and gamelan patterns, maintain the momentum. It’s here that Hignell-Tulley’s acuity as a composer and experimental musician outside his BKC role really adds to the band’s personality.
The complexities continue with the mournful post-rock of Settlers/Colonists, where a resonant guitar and lonely melodica set the scene for a sober Godspeed-like apocalyptic aftermath. The lyrical threads again draw parallels between the macro and the micro, a geo-political view and self-reflection. “We’re running round in circles but we only make it worse, Goddam the reservation” Hignell-Tulley sings in despair signposting the EP’s sprawling conclusion.
That close comes in the shape of the long form Lights Out on the Reservation. It’s an ambitious piece of fascination, a song which stretches its dystopian vision widescreen. Beyond Leroy Brown’s scarifying guitar drag plus a swarm of synth lines, a skeletal beat picks up as BKC sharp imagery lingers. “On the reservation there’s a place to raise your young, and a hook on the wall to hang your empty gun” is the ominous opening snapshot. From here the track swells into an expanse of goth-rock dynamics and prog breaks. Brown’s guitar roars out profound chords, there’s a gentle psyched out breakdown mid-point and a thundering electro-noise resolve, while Hignell-Tulley caustically asks “Do You Need Love?” in the hook. The EP winds down atmospherically to some unravelling, delicate zithering.
You wouldn’t expect anything formulaic from Be Kind Cadaver and in that way ‘The World’s Greatest Mind’ certainly delivers. This is not alt-rock revivalism, it’s electro-orchestral hyper balladry which maps a dark trail of failure and glimpses at a way forward. So, keep a close watch on where BKC go from here, this is a band which defies predictions.
Get your copy of ‘The World’s Greatest Mind‘ by Be Kind Cadaver direct from Analogue Trash HERE
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