Title: I Think I See Evil Label: S/R File Under: American Revolution C21 style RIYL: At the Drive In, PiL, The Clash In these days of national security threats, enemy combatants and patriot acts on US Destroyers, you'd think it would be illegal to send declarations of revolution in the post. Thankfully such promulgations are transmitted as freely as anthrax to the Democrats and Kervin's I Think I See Evil arrived intact, it's guitar-fuelled call to arms via thought spraying righteous rage across my speakered room. "Preventive, pre-emptive, preternatural preeminence/ Invented incentives in the face of all our evidence." Like a startled cannibal caught in the spotlights of the punk rock glare, Dubya is frozen, picking over the flesh of Iraqi children in search of a boost in the polls. This revolutions is being amplified. Kervin are a four piece from Queens, brothers Anupum and Apurva Mehrotra on vocals and guitars respectively, with Charles Oliver on bass and Cy Christiansen on drums. Honing their sound over the last four years, the time served to elucidate the narcotic and nepotistic functioning of government and the music industry. Consequently what we get on disc is part rage, part rock, angry flurries of vocal riffing wrenched out over the top of feedback slathers, but backed by a beat to kick your ass as it dances. Anupum's vocal delivery draws attention from the go, reducing long diatribes of polysyllabic ire to almost-musical staccato shots, "developmental dysfunctions" rolling off his tongue backed by his yowl of spittle. Sonically it's an interesting production mix - the rhythm section is placed back in the mix, allowing the lyrics to be understood, a tool sadly under-used in these days of hypercompression. Consequently the bass won't shake the floor, but it's inconsequential as Oliver's bass lines are more melodically intricate than the ordinary two note stoners of mainstream punk pop, and the top end work stands out as it should. The songs pass by in a firestorm - 11 in 33 minutes, though their adhesion to radio time format won't see them being played on Clear Channel anytime soon. In amidst the recriminations and justified incantations, it's easy to miss the side of Kervin that taps into something less angry, almost tender, as "Keep Up The Swelling" notes, "it's a shame, they can't cry", as if somehow feeling something profound might convince the pundits, soldiers, charlatans etc. to pause their Middle Eastern carnage. There's a sense of sadness for what has happened over ten years of consumer-cuckolded faith, "the adoration of idols, how the mind went idol", yet Kervin never let us forget how we played our role in supporting false presidents and false pretenses. In their explanation cum manifesto on the inside of the CD case, they write, "Left in ruin are the difficult questions that must be posed to those hoping to lead us forward in this age of instant everything, including destruction. While many have rejected their duty to ask these questions, hopefully you have not, and may this wave of noise, passion, and fury inspire you to do so." Inspired as much by Chomsky and Foucault as Rollins and Fugazi, Kervin are the medicine that many of us need, and just as many of us want.
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