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How to: Friend, Love, Freefall by RKS

Photo by

Kym Drapcho, Arts and Entertainment Editor

4/24/2018

When Sam Melo and Darrick Keller founded Rainbow Kitten Surprise in their dorm rooms at Appalachian State University in 2013, the band wasn’t so eclectically named.

 

Instead, their moniker stems from an unexpected story, both heartwarming and humorous:  their close friend, after suffering meningitis and a spinal tap, gave them the name in a drug-induced state.

 

Now, five years later, the indie/alternative rock group just released their third studio album, “How to: Friend, Love, Freefall.”  

 

This album is just as enchanting, versatile and diverse as their first two, and, frankly, just as deserving of listeners’ time.  In fact, the album is such a roller coaster of sounds, feelings and upsie-downsies that there is not enough space in this paper to truly express the sheer emotion behind the final product.  Each song is carefully crafted by the five-piece band: every chord, every lyric and the very timbre behind Melo’s voice.

 

“How to” starts with a 23 second acapella intro, setting a dreamy tone.  This expectation is almost immediately shattered when the second song kicks off.  Heavy drums and deep-toned guitars introduce “Mission to Mars,” another short but intense thinkpiece. In Rainbow Kitten Surprise’s characteristic uniqueness, the track leads to one chorus, telling a story both intense and intriguing.

 

“Holy War” is the first track on the album to throw the vibe back to its dreamy start. Nonetheless, when the beat drops, the song demonstrates what RKS is practically known for:  introducing new sounds practically out of nowhere--changing the mood with the flip of a coin.

 

The rest of the album is similarly constructed, and, yet, still as diverse as ever. Though, through a listener’s standpoint, each song’s individuality makes a sturdy argument against the possibility of a cohesive album, the lyrics have intense feelings of depression, anger, anxiety and sex threaded throughout.  Though frontman Melo’s trademark mush-mouthed enunciation makes the lyrics difficult to decipher at most points, learning all the words to this album is a worthwhile endeavor, if only to later shout them from behind the wheel, windows down, pretending you’re actually addressing the person you wish you could.

 

The track that calls back to the album’s ultimate title, “It’s Called: Freefall,” is the emotional peak.  With lyrics that describe a downward spiral that calls the struggle of addiction to the forefront: whether that be drugs, alcohol or even a bad relationship, hearing the song feels more like reading a diary than hearing a banger.  Singing images of gravity’s pull and the Devil throughout the entirety of the song, and accompanied with a simple bed for emphasis, one standout lyric states, “You could leave it all behind/even the Devil need time alone sometimes.”

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Another high point in the album is the track “Moody Orange,” a quick-paced and dark revelation that trips relentlessly forward, perhaps mirroring the drug-induced state Melo references. Nonetheless, though, of course, different from the rest of the album, the lyrics are just as enticing and feel perfect coming off the tongue: “I've been patient watching you the way move/Detecting all of your clues/Feeding off of your cues like 1 2 3 4 5/I'll get it right and play nice soon as you do.”  

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The end of the album brings a beautiful conclusion with “Polite Company.” This track is laced with imagery that feels so real, it brings pit-of-the stomach heartbreak and adrenaline rushes cutting to the very core of your being, beyond flesh and bone but, rather, the soul. In the final lyric, after singing about sex in a crayon-covered bathroom stall and “Untied lace, pop-shoegaze, and 808 Heartbreak,” Melo sings, “She's the edge between the cadence of my name and on these walls another language we would never speak in Polite Company.”

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It is with “Polite Company” that the emotional intensity of the album is epitomized. Though it could be argued that “How To”’s quick pace and shorter tracks show lesser production value, the sheer struggle and darkness threaded throughout raises the standard, in classic RKS style.

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