GONZO REVIEWS: UNSHORE: Kramies & the haunted ghost

Thursday 26 January 2023

UNSHORE: Kramies & the haunted ghost

I’ve tried to review this collection of 8 truly heartbreaking ditties since it’s September 2022 release and it’s only now that I’m able to listen to it objectively, without sobbing throughout. I awoke to lyrics circling my head, randomly burst into tears, or slumped to the floor under it’s sumptuous weight far too often, until I implemented self-induced fortnight-long listening bans.

As with most of this tragedy-laden LP, ‘Days of’ pulls us into bittersweet sonic doldrums that threaten to overwhelm but instead seduce. With sad, searing lyrics yanking sharply at the heartstrings, soft or soaring vocals understating solemnity, and accessible production that does little to disguise any of the above, we’re given an exemplary intro to a half hour of hardened love songs.

Delivering a bittersweet combo of acceptance and angst that surely resonates with the broken-hearted, the bewildered and the bent out of shape, ‘Horses to Maine’ laughs in the face of the horrible facts. Pinned to a brass-rich Reindeer Section-like backdrop, this heart-wrenching tale of abandonment and betrayal is peppered with realisim and sweet resentment in equal parts.

It’s perhaps a blessing that this short track is over before it develops into the behemoth it perhaps should've been; like an aborted David Lynch/Munchausen by Proxy love-child, ‘Hotel in LA’ is heavy from the outset. With vocals barely treading the relentless waves of despair supporting them, this is the only mild reprieve we get, amidst this tale of good old degeneration and dependency.

Banjo boosted and increasingly majestic ‘Ohio I’ll be fine’ bravely addresses helplessness and surrender; like taking a hit from a cherubs sawn-off, its lyrical simplicity hits hard and fast, before dispersing just as abruptly. The consequences are left unquantified and the situation left to linger in the minds of anyone who’s both suffered and rejoiced in self-interest sacrifice.

Darkness becomes enchantment and whimsy during ‘You’d be the fall’, as it nourishes our hope-starved psyche, permeating the parameters of blind and boundless love with the gentlest of touches. Delving into unbalanced dedication and the unrequited devotion of beleaguered lovebirds, it spells out the lengths we’d go to for our nearest and dearest.

Despite it putting the boot in from the outset, softly served duet ‘Flower from the orphan’ is a personal favourite. Abandoning almost all metaphor and leaving little to the imagination, there’s no hiding from the genius of its lyrical fragility, as we hear about the exhausted harmony that’s been taken for granted more than once too often… “I was the ocean, you were the shore”.

Similarly, ‘Owl and the crow’ investigates deception, damage and the divide that can destroy disingenuous relationships. As with the magic that’s evidently been undermined by ongoing neglect and negativity, long-lost commonality is sorely missed and laid out bare for all to see. Yearning and hopeful, grasping for paradise lost, it leaves us so sore and oh so lost at sea.

‘4:44am’ delivers the album’s sucker punch, breaking every bone in your by now aching heart. With its impassioned honesty and forced lyrical optimism, it gently scratches through confusion for remnants of cause and effect, ultimately in the hope of instilling much-needed motivation to get through tomorrow and beyond. Rock bottom bravado never sounded so good.

There’s been a lot of “best album of 2022” talk recently and I’ve known for some time that the LP means so so much more to me, easily making it into my all-time top 5. Like a shadow on my lung, Kramies has left behind a life-long imprint; striking me as a mini epic ‘how’s Ant 2022?’ concept album, it’s left me feeling like a haunted ghost.