King Krule Space Heavy Review: Harnessing Emotional Power Through Musical Restraint

Describing music “cinematic” has, by now, become a cliché, but King Krule’s Space Heavy conjures very specific visual images to mind, specifically of a solitary day by the sea. The album’s songs are carefully grounded with concrete details like the trains he’s spent the last few years riding as he splits his time between London and the coast. And while the 28-year-old singer-songwriter is now a father in a long-term relationship, his fifth studio album emanates from a lonelier-sounding space than past releases like 2013’s 6 Feet Beneath the Moon.

The music on Space Heavy is notably grimmer than the lyrics, but even its lyrical themes return again and again to the subject of isolation. “Wednesday Overcast” details lovers struggling to find one another, while “Seaforth,” whose title comes from a town north of Liverpool, is a love song with apocalyptic allusions to watching “the planet dyin’ up above.”

The album moves beyond the anger and self-laceration of some of the more intense songs from 2020’s Man Alive! King Krule’s music has long suggested a soundtrack for a noir, with jazz-influenced drums and saxophone employed throughout his songs. On Space Heavy, ghostly hints of cool jazz cast an eerie score for gazing inward. The languor only vanishes during instrumental breaks like a saxophone solo on “That Is My Life, That Is Yours.”

At times, the album risks getting swamped by its downbeat mood. Still, the stripped-down arrangements keep it from becoming overbearing, as on “Our Vacuum,” in which guitar chords ring out without the accompaniment of bass or even percussion. On “If Only It Was Warmth,” the rhythm section is kept to a bare minimum, falling back into a quiet drift. Each instrument stands out because the individual parts are so austere. On Space Heavy, King Krule proves that power sometimes comes with restraint.