Krupke – The Pony You Always Wanted Died Today (Self-Released, 2010)

At a scant twenty-eight minutes, the self-released debut record from Toronto’s Krupke is very likely to pass a listener by if they aren’t too careful. It demands one’s full attention both because of its brevity and because of the inherent complexity of the songs composed by the quirky quartet that flow together as a single entity throughout this surprisingly strong first effort. Blink and you might miss the key changes.

The Pony You Always Wanted Died Today moves so smoothly and swiftly, and is so disparately bizarre and inviting at once that it becomes extremely easy to find yourself completely and utterly lost by the end of it. Or at the very least, woefully bewildered. The band, consisting of a Keyboardist/Xylophonist/Vocalist, a Guitarist/Vocalist, a Clarinetist/Violinist and a Drummer, plays a wild and irreverent brand of energetic, silly and technically brilliant style of polyrhythmic art-rock laced with traces of showtune melodies and throbbing post-rock. If we’re talking comparisons, Krupke might land somewhere between the disarming, theory-heavy artiness of Battles (who might take themselves a little too seriously) and the off-kilter wackiness of Los Campesinos! (who probably don’t take themselves seriously enough). On the other hand, the record itself sounds like Tortoise giving a performance of Hunky Dory.

Trading boy-girl vocals with utterly baffling lyrics over ominous clarinet trills, twinkling xylophones and manic, erratic time changes, the music of Krupke is idiosyncratic to say the least. The effect of the occasionally sinister-sounding musicianship coupled with the band’s extremely warped (not to mention prominently displayed) sense of humour on The Pony You Always Wanted Died Today makes for what will easily be one of the most singular, arresting and ultimately extremely rewarding experiences any listener is likely to have this year.

Beginning with the soft, whimsical introduction of “I’m Sorry Your Pony Died” that eventually swells into a joyful, mysterious cacophony of crashing drums and fervent chants, Pony sets itself on its manic journey through the dark, fragile melodies of “Dirt and Culture” and the alarming, eccentric centerpiece that is the two-part movement of “Monday”/”Monday?” Following the playful Broadway-esque melodies and chants of that epic mini-cycle, all bets are then tossed out into the street and thoroughly crushed by several buses because as soon as this record hits its stride, it becomes a relentless, challenging and fantastical soup of the jarring and the mischevious that flows effortlessly in its madness until its abrupt conclusion.

Throughout we are treated to some of the most hauntingly joyful music to come out of anywhere in an absurdly long time as Krupke ping-pong around a hectic mix of sounds via their unusual instrumental arsenal while vocalists Mike Walter, Joe Verkuyl and Fiona Ryan cheekily trade off non-sequitors, bizarre aphorisms and charmingly silly puns in deliveries ranging from wild chants to lulling whispers to unhinged yelps. Glorious noise ensues as it occasionally seems as though all four members have little regard for what their bandmates are playing at all, however it is obviously all so deliberate that one must quickly adjust to Krupke’s flagrant flaunting of pop conventions and uninhibited humour. Otherwise The Pony You Always Wanted Died Today will be little more than a brief but strange exercise in art-pop weirdness. To the patient listener, however, Krupke’s debut is magical, inventive and utterly winning.

-C.S. Folkers