Musical Meditations,
#4. Filthy Huns — “Cursed At Birth”
There is great depth in patience. In waiting. Some say that one's moral fiber can be gauged through that capacity for patience. When combined with determination, it can be a great tool in unlocking one’s potential… or so I’ve heard. This week’s Musical Meditation is about an album that I’m sure will test how much you can wait, how still you can get yourself to be, and wonder in the face of lush sounds and concepts that seem to repeat themselves. This week, we got LA’s Filthy Huns’ very own meditation, “Cursed At Birth.”
As soon as you begin Cursed At Birth, there is a statement of intent: there are no knockout punches here, there is no need for any pageantry. It has a very cinematic nature to it from the very start, an aspect of this album that I can’t seem to get over — not that I would like to see it used in anyone’s film, but I would like to have a film made about the music itself. Maybe a musical. Who’s to say. Regardless, whatever intention Filthy Huns may have had in the genesis of this sleepy wonder, there is a definite presence of narrative that runs through its run time of 30 minutes. In about a half-hour, this record manages to bring about existential questions within the listener that I’m not sure many records seem to manage; even with their fatter subs and 808 kicks, they fall short to Cursed At Birth. Filthy Huns, known in the waking world as Nick Koenigs, has with this record painted us a picture that if visible, would tell us a story of those unsure of their place in the modern world, yet patient and determined enough to give it another try and see what happens. Cursed At Birth is a radio transmission from a warm, sensitive place in the heart that, in my view, has been “shadowbanned” of late, or whatever we young children mutter under our breath to our own misfortune.
Opening with its namesake in song form, Cursed At Birth is without a doubt a peerless article of music made for introspection. If you need a minute from all your troubles, this can be your instrumental therapy. There is a constant presence of colored noise on this record, which adds to its therapeutic tendencies. The album as a whole seems a portrait of someone lost in the midst of the vast rural seas of America, where your only companions are the road, any streetlight you can find, and maybe if you’re lucky enough, another human being. That human being is nowhere to be found on the title track. We’re greeted instead by the forlorn howls of a wolf in the night, and the distant woofs and ruffs of other dogs in this seemingly empty liminal space. “You’re a mob-like gang of killers,” says a man as soon as the second song on this album, “Renegade Lifestyle,” revs into the listener’s experience. This track begins and maintains a marked dub influence that is scattered throughout the record, with the slow and repetitive rhythm section filled with reverb and colored over by field-recordings and synth sounds that are very well-saturated in how they are produced (sounds that resemble TV and video game sounds from the ’80s and ‘90s almost).
Cursed At Birth reaches its half-way point with the slightly more upbeat sounding track “Bastard’s Guest.” Personally, the titles chosen for the 6 tracks on this album are extremely memorable and a point of great intrigue. Motor-bike engines and muffled tough-guy bikers (I presume) command us to do their bidding on “Descension.” There is a great emphasis that Filthy Huns places on motorbikes as a central motif to what is going on within this album. The motorbike is a great vehicle for lonesome exploration, yet there is such a culture of camaraderie and group-based association that permeates within the motorbike culture. In reflection, I feel as though Filthy Huns isn’t one of those tough guys that muffle their commands to us on “Bastard’s Guest.” He may as well be one of those scary guys, I could be wrong, but to me, he seems represented most truthfully on the track that follows, “Twisted Z Bars,” a track that sounds like the experience of a motorcyclist finding a desolate church unlocked on a rainy night. The big bell sound that precedes the persistent rain and wonderous synth melody brings for another intimate meditation; close your eyes, and you will know more about yourself than you did before.
The record ends with “Filthy Forever,” a track starting with human sounds paired with a similar rhythmic approach as heard earlier on this record. The point of emphasis on this track is with the synthesizer, which hums a much more cheerful note than before. Maybe there is cause for cheer for us, after what we’ve seen over the past year a species. Having been released only about 2 weeks ago, Cursed At Birth is an immaculate articulation of the emotional current that humanity has felt over the last year. It may have had its genesis before the pandemic, but its lonesomeness and meditational quality make this album quite the emotional and sonic journey to traverse. Cut everything away from your life: your phone, your books, that person you met on tinder, your job, everything. Take 2 hours, and listen to this album on repeat 4 times with your eyes closed. I promise you it will be just as beneficial as a meditational retreat, only exponentially cheaper. I tip my hat to Filthy Huns for giving us an album of this kind in a time where it seems that music only seems concerned with stimulating excitement and not much else. Cursed At Birth is one of those rare records that do more than just inciting a bob of a head or a jerk of a hip.
Filthy Huns’ seminal new album Cursed At Birth is available for purchase on Bandcamp, where he is also running a sale of his whole discography (4 albums for $18?! Now THAT’s what I call a good deal if there ever was one); please support this artist with your money. I hope we both can, through listening to this album, solemnly sit and reminisce on these sullen days one day when we’ve learned how to treat our surroundings with respect. Until then, salutations.
