During ‘Set It Alight’, vocalist Fionn Crossan self-deprecatingly asserts: “Never had a thought that really felt like it was mine.” It’s a theme that is subtly reinforced throughout this strong debut album from the latest LNFG upstarts, Kilgour. This feeling of impostor syndrome will be all too familiar to many young people today, but it’s also exactly the sort of angst that would’ve been perfectly in place during the heyday of heavy guitar-based music across the pond in the early ’90s.
The Kurt Vonnegut-inspired band (in name at least) truck in the sort of disenfranchised nihilism that was par for the course in the early grunge scene. It’s a reference point that hasn’t really been fashionable since grunge itself imploded in the mid ’90s, but Kilgour manage to fold its key tenets (heavy, crunchy guitars and drums, punk influences etc.) into other sounds of the same era (shoegaze, slacker indie) with easy aplomb.
They’re not afraid of a meandering arrangement, even on the plodding opener Simple Life or recent (bizarrely chosen) single ‘Don’t You Hate The Way’. Both feature long, noodling, quiet sections before exploding into a grunge-punk breakdown (the former) or a drawled Chris Cornell approximation with simple lyrics atop grizzled chords (the latter). ‘Repeat and Repeat’ is the best showcase of the band’s guitar prowess, anchored by a simple punk riff and capped off with a searing solo.
‘Set It Alight’ speaks more to the Dinosaur Jr./DIIV influence, especially in Crossan’s vocals that are pushed up front in the mix for once. His disaffected style is reminiscent of Lou Barlow, but there are cracks of emotion that shine through, adding a dollop of feeling into a sound that can be bogged down by apathy at times. Brilliant closer, ‘Go Inside’, is a total outlier on the album: it nears six minutes and finds Crossan in discernible storytelling mode, his voice clear due to a clean and uncluttered arrangement. The closest reference points here would be Car Seat Headrest of Paranoid Android-era Radiohead.
Songs like this, as well as those with more of Katie Mackie’s crystalline keys, like ‘How Was I To Know’, demonstrate a willingness to experiment beyond the confines of the band’s familiar touchstones and provide fertile territory for future albums. It’s clear from this album that Crossan’s assertion of unoriginality isn’t the case at all, but self-belief was never the strong suit of the grunge crowd.