Kamikaze 03’s debut single, “Akimov”, is a lush, beautiful exercise in making yourself feel worse on purpose. A dream-pop journey through slow, hard-hitting drums and sparkling, meandering guitar lines, all tied up with sharp lyricism, and a distant, icy vocal delivery. It’s the sort of thing that makes you want to lie face down on your bedroom floor for an hour and call it personal growth. Honestly, what more could you want? Drawing on the early magic of scene heavyweights like Slowdive and Cranes, Kamikaze 03 have made a brilliant first impression, and they’re absolutely a band to watch. 

The song opens with shimmering stabs of reverb-drenched guitar before being swallowed up by a swell of distorted feedback that erupts into slow, hard-hitting drums. As the track unfolds, a devastatingly catchy riff cuts through the haze with a hypnotic pull, setting the stage for the vocals to drift in and ruin your day. Beautiful stuff. “Akimov” features Ethan on guitar, Jess on vocals and bass, and Zack on rhythm guitar, with the three crafting a sound that balances delicate, shimmering dream-pop textures against a much harder hitting, shoegaze-inspired edge. The guitars drift between reverb-soaked melodies and bubbling undercurrents of scratched up distortion, while Jess’s steady, yet intrepid bass playing drives underneath it all. There’s something wonderful about this track, it smells of patchouli and smoke and reminds me, for better or for worse, of going to bed at 4AM.

 The track briefly retreats into a breathy, stripped-back passage, leaving the guitars to drift almost weightlessly before swelling back into their usual self. Jess laments the feeling of falling apart and fraying at the seams, and there’s a real tenderness to the way these moments of vulnerability sit alongside the song’s heavier surges. The result is desperate, cathartic, and just a little bit cruel. You know when a song seems to reach into your chest, give everything a little squeeze, and then have the audacity to carry on as if nothing happened? That.

This emotional unravelling carries through to the outro, where a sense of movement and hope begins to emerge from beneath the haze. Naturally, it would be far too easy if we were allowed to enjoy that feeling uninterrupted. Instead, Jess repeatedly laments, “I’m falling apart”, pulling against the music’s underlying optimism and leaving the whole thing suspended somewhere between hope and complete emotional devastation. A delicate little treat for those of us who apparently cannot experience a positive feeling without immediately looking for something to be sad about.

The track subsides into further waves of crunchy, distorted guitar before plunging into one final passage of haunting, breathy, reverb-fuelled noodling. It’s a perfectly vulnerable ending to a song that seems designed to be beautifully uncomfortable. There’s no grand resolution, no sudden burst of sunshine, no getting your life together montage. Just a little more guitar, a little more sadness, and the quiet understanding that perhaps falling apart can be beautiful too. Which is all very lovely, actually, even if it makes me want to cry a bit. 

“Akimov” leaves me feeling as though I understand Kamikaze 03, and, more importantly, that they understand themselves. They know the world their art inhabits and seem to have a pretty good grasp of what the people within it are looking for. This is a melodramatic, vulnerable and remarkably assured first foray into recorded music, and it leaves me genuinely excited to hear what comes next. There’s something special about a debut single this confident and energetic while still maintaining the requisite sombreness to captivate even the most miserable of dream-pop sweethearts. You know who you are… You have my full support, and I hope things get better for you. But also, please keep listening to this song.

Give it a listen if you haven’t already. You’d really be doing yourself a favour. Go on. Have a little cry. As a treat.

Kamikaze 03 FFO: Slowdive, Lush, Cranes, Pale Saints, reverb, catharsis, falling apart, staring wistfully out of windows, etc.

Review from Finn Sullivan – @Incinerate.design