[rating=7.00]
Now five albums into a career that basically defines the term ‘cult following’, Kyle Thomas’ King Tuff character has become a legend in its own right. Adored by college radio and underground scene purists; his brand of hook-driven garage rock that plants its roots deep in the ‘sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll’Â soil of the 70s golden age painted him as a welcome throwback to a byegone era – in style and substance. It’s a perception Thomas himself recognizes and rejects as false, something he never meant to create. “It was exhausting…I was like, I just can’t do this. I’m essentially playing this character of King Tuff, this crazy party monster, and I don’t even drink or do drugs”, he says about the period after the success of his fourth – and most successful – album Black Moon Spell. Four years of stepping back later and The Other is the result, a self-proclaimed exploration of recovery and the reclamation of creativity.
But with his newfound earnestness – if not quite seriousness – Thomas faces a hurdle of his own doing. The benefit of the lively, don’t-give-a-shit persona that sauntered through his previous work was that no one really paid much attention to the words. Catchy hooks and fuzzed out guitars were enough to whip listeners into dancing and singing along without needing to care about what it was they were singing. On The Other, it’s when Thomas strips things back to let his thoughts take the spotlight that the interest wanes. The curtain-raising title track – admittedly pretty and blatantly telegraphing Thomas’ newfound direction with its gentle organs and chiming opening riff – loses itself a little in its story of a directionless Thomas, “stuck in traffic” on his “way to no particular place”, searching for and finding the mysterious “other” that forms us and gives us meaning. There’s something undeniably charming about the childlike innocence of Thomas’ explorations, the sense that the King Tuff character finally sees a world beyond the rock and roll life, but his meandering realizations and accompanying melody are too glaring and lack the subtlety to sustain the six minutes it takes to reach his destination. ‘Circuits in the Sand’ similarly suffers from a misguided sense of depth, with Thomas’ laments at an over-digitized and phone obsessed world grating with the songs bopping acoustic rock. It’s honest, no doubt, but it feels like a latecomer to a party well and truly underway in its ideas, its rhyming couplets feeling forced and the payoff uninspired.
Indeed it’s when Thomas manages to marry his earnest pondering of the world with what he’s truly good at, writing rock songs, that The Other shines; fortunately this happens more often than not. The thrilling blues rock of ‘Raindrop Blue’ is welcome relief from the drifting nature of the opener, Thomas hit by the “cloudburst” of love, his heavily distorted voice grinding out “I must have turned to lightning, when I fell in love with you.” Single ‘Thru the Cracks’ is a genuinely touching reflection on mortality following the death of a loved one, wrapped in a psychedelic folk anthem complete with a reverb-drenched and wailing lead line.  Thomas concerns himself plenty with the loss of childhood creativity and innocence and the record finds him tirelessly questing to reclaim it. The two flagship tracks of this theme, ‘Birds of Paradise’ and ‘Psycho Star’, are infectious to almost pandemic levels with their anthemic groove, funky guitar lines and catchy-as-hell hooks that burrow into your consciousness to remain forever. If you don’t catch yourself gently singing “watching the wind blow, watching the wind blow, watching the rain so hard” at unexpected moments, you really have to ask if you’re truly alive.
By the time album closer ‘No Man’s Land’ leads you through its twisting sprawl – a fitting sonic reflection of its title – the journey Thomas has taken becomes a little clearer. This is him enjoying himself again, trying things out. His knack for a solid hook and a good old-fashioned rock song won’t leave him any time soon; and while his new found discoveries on life, the universe and love might feel self-evident at times, there’s also a realization that the chance to step back and be openly innocent is exactly what Thomas is allowing himself to do. “The universe is probably an illusion, but isn’t it so beautifully bizarre, that here we are”, he sings on ‘Psycho Star’. It’s a freewheeling proclamation that matches the best of his music, basking in the sheer enjoyment of how ridiculous things are. This approach doesn’t always hit the mark – sometimes veering into being too serious for its limitations – but when the songs are at their best, with The Other King Tuff has created an excellent way to just relax and enjoy the simple revelations the universe has to offer that we often take for granted.
