Album Review: Kthvlhv Volume Two by Resin
Resin’s Kthvlhv Volume Two, released in 2006 under the Krakilsk label, is a masterclass in electronic noise that feels like it was forged in the icy depths of Norway itself. This isn’t your typical easy-listening record—it’s abrasive, challenging, and oddly captivating. If you’re into sounds that push boundaries rather than conform to them, this one might just stick with you.
The album opens with "Dissonance Cipher," a track that hits like an unexpected gust of Arctic wind. It’s chaotic but deliberate, layering distorted frequencies over glitchy rhythms that refuse to settle into anything predictable. What makes "Dissonance Cipher" memorable is how it toys with tension—just when you think it’s about to spiral out of control, it pulls back, leaving you hanging on every jagged note. The interplay between harshness and restraint here feels almost architectural, as if Resin meticulously designed each disorienting moment.
Another standout is "Falling Through The Planet." This track takes a slightly different approach, blending cavernous drones with bursts of industrial-grade static. Listening to it feels like tumbling through some kind of sonic abyss, where time stretches and compresses unpredictably. There’s something haunting yet strangely beautiful about its descent—it’s not necessarily pleasant, but it’s impossible to ignore. You might find yourself rewinding just to figure out what exactly happened during those last three minutes.
While tracks like "Sonic Warfare" and "Dissociative Cell Structures" also deliver their fair share of auditory chaos, they don’t leave quite the same impression as the first two mentioned. Still, they contribute to the overall atmosphere of unease and experimentation that defines the album.
Kthvlhv Volume Two isn’t for everyone. Its relentless noise aesthetic can feel exhausting at times, even for fans of the genre. But there’s a raw honesty to it—a sense that Resin wasn’t trying to please anyone but themselves. And honestly? That’s kinda refreshing.
Here’s the thing: after listening to this album, I couldn’t help but wonder if Resin intended for it to sound like the aftermath of a robot apocalypse. Either way, it works.
