Going day to day without hope is a terrible way to live, yet here we are, at least a lot of us. It’s never felt less like this country is for us, the ruling and billionaire classes (which are basically the same) don’t give a fuck about us, and everything seems to be a struggle, with no end in sight. It’s easy to give up and miss that which remains good among us.
As dark and foreboding as it is, Emma Ruth Rundle’s new record “These Killing Times” is one of lingering positivity in a world crumbling around us. Amid fascism, climate change that’s growing more violent, and a rising sea of hatred, there still are glimmers. The people around us and our communities, be that where we live or more conceptual versions, can save us. Or at least make living more bearable. These eight songs, recorded with a full band, might take some time to sink in, but some of the records with staying power are like that. She sounds vulnerable, angry at times, always inspired, and holding a torch of hope to carry deep into our battles to signal we are not giving up.
“Powerless” arrives via piano and hushed tones before punching in, Rundle’s singing soaring over the choruses becoming gentler on the verses. “Let me walk here with a lantern in my hand, one for finding, one for showing something better,” she sings after lashing back against power structures, jolting before relenting some, reverberating into the dark. “God’s Picture” starts with acoustics, singing cracking, sax easing us deeper into the picture. Vulnerability shakes before the power rustles, spirits rise, and the tension strikes, pianos fading and washing back the frustration. “Anvil” is softer with church bells, sounds bleeding in, the singing dashing the surface. The chorus is a heavy one emotionally, and the playing brings a Western vibe, Rundle singing, “I bring a bright burst light down over you,” as punches land harder, and the sweltering heat increases the impact. “Catherine Wheel” has scuffing guitars and thorns, Rundle calling, “Everything is, everything is upside down!” before admitting, “Sometimes I just can’t take this place.” Anguish is tangible, the pace jabbing and cascading, crashing to the earth hard, leaving a crater in its wake.
“Don’t Delay Heaven” is deliberate, breathy, acoustics aching as sounds whir. There is a ghostly ambiance here, guitars glimmering and feeling otherworldly, Rundle pleading, “Push the pain to 7, what you need, what you need.” “Enough” has drums kicking down walls, Rundle’s emotive delivering stabbing, “These things you won’t believe, in his killing times.” The sounds go into the cosmos, the softer verses teasing the tension ahead, Rundle delivering with, “Do not you have the whole world? Does not the whole world open up?” the noise building and threatening, scraping as guitars tremble. “Human Kindness” is the longest track, running 8:24 and feeling doomy, easing you into the fray as Rundle calls, “I can take you wherever you want to go, I am full the milk of human kindness.” The instruments bounce off each other, the singing picking up more momentum, guitars glimmering and settling, the energy warped into something new. Closer “Oceans of Time” is a lighter entrance, piano melting as Rundle and other voices blend, the chill luring you away. Your center aches, but that slowly dissolves as these ghostly motions fade.
“These Killing Times” is a raw, emotional opus that matches the era we’re in, and Emma Ruth Rundle’s compassion, heart, and frustrations flood your entire system. These eight tracks are beautiful, moving, and nakedly honest, channeling justice and putting herself on the line so that these evils could be extinguished. This world is drowning in fascism and hatred, and the planet is revolting, but as long as souls such as Rundle are around, there always will be a glimmer of hope and altruistic love.
For more on the band, go here: https://www.emmaruthrundle.com/
To buy the album, go here: https://www.hellomerch.com/collections/emma-ruth-rundle
For more on the label, go here: https://sargenthouse.com/
