Malice K

There are ghosts all across 'AVANTI', the debut album from Malice K .

The record wades through a disarray of chaos and loss with a sharp-toothed fervor. At points it’s howling and unhinged, a grungy layer atop a lush foundation of melodic capital-s Songwriting akin to the golden-age pop of the ‘70s, but in other moments it dissolves into a gentle, wistful haunting. Malice K’s songs are blunt, uncomplicated and unflinching as he probes the interiority of memories, of mistakes – saturated with an innate intensity that sucks you into his gnarled and visceral world, so barbed it could draw blood. 'AVANTI' undulates with a singular acuity, strangely romantic but tragic, tense and startling, even in its quieter, ballad-skewing moments. The record is unpredictable across its 11 songs.

The album opens with a jarring scream on “Halloween,” Malice K’s breathless vocals buried beneath a grungy, roving Nineties riff. The track emanates a manic energy, enveloping. It’s a fitting entrypoint for the record, and for the vividness of Malice K. The snarling and obsessive “You’re My Girl” has a swaggering paranoia: “I got so high I thought my hand touching my hand was your hand.” But 'AVANTI' exists in a lot of quieter moments – “Radio,” with its fluttering morose cello (Malice K’s first time composing for the instrument), which moves at an almost glacial pace comparatively, or the aching wistfulness on both the “The Old House” and “Blue Monday.” “The Old House” is an album stand-out, anchored in an acoustic guitar, an uneasy lullaby that never quite settles into itself: “I think to myself I got the things that I wanted, but I can’t help think there’s something else that I forgot to do.”