Like
many instrumentalists, my musical story begins in my teen years. This period
introduced me to my favorite bands, watched me develop my bass playing into
something vaguely unique, and was the soil that birthed my first band, Sock
Full of Pennies. Later, in high school, SFOP had morphed into the ska-punk
outfit Nothing to Prove, which gave me my first exposure to the ups and downs
of being in a local music act. Looking back at our inexperience in song
writing, performance, and life in general, I find I am not embarrassed of those
days, because they were the genesis of my musical life, the first steps on a
crazy journey along which I am still reeling.
When
I listen to my favorite bands, it is hard to believe that they were once as
young, or as bad, or as naïve as we were, or that they too have a youthful
genesis, made up of days filled with heartbreak and overblown emotion and
madness, days they hold dear and rarely let slip into the open. However, all
musicians have an act that is to them what Sock Full of Pennies is to me, the act
where they learned to give music their all. For Norma Jean, one of my very
favorite bands, this forerunner is the group Luti-Kriss, and when I finally
laid hands on a copy of their full-length, Throwing
Myself, I was given the opportunity to experience the youthful push of some
of my idols.
While
most of us leave behind many smoldering bridges before we meet the creators
that help crystallize our vision, interestingly, the line-up for almost all of
Luti-Kriss’ existence is the same line-up that began as Norma Jean. In fact,
Norma Jean would most likely still be tearing it up under that original moniker
if not for the southern rapper who shares the same name (hardly a shame, if I’m
being honest). However, with the name change also came a shift in sound—Luti-Kriss
is heavy, but Norma Jean is far heavier—and so both members and fans alike tend
to regard these acts as completely separate entities.[1]
The
band’s name may scream of immaturity and youth, but the roiling timbre that
Luti-Kriss provides feels experimental but hardly underdeveloped. Throwing Myself is a testament to the
days when these musicians were still figuring out just how heavy they could be,
and as the band was born during the rise of both metalcore and nu-metal, this
record features a strange blend of both genres. Scottie Henry and Chris “Derr”
Day rage against their guitars, peppering the tunes with tritone chords and
palm-muted chugs. Josh Doolittle nails down the low-end, locking endlessly with
the flamboyant drumming of Daniel Davidson, whose extensive cymbal collection
seems perfectly mic’d. Layered within this maelstrom is Josh Scogin’s throaty
growls and howling screams, adding a touch of hardcore to the blend that pulls
this band away from the nu-metal label into something infinitely heavier, a
sound Davidson affectionately labeled “Cron.”[2]
This
smooth synthesis of nu-metal and metalcore gives Throwing Things a rather unique sound, as Luti-Kriss finds ways to
slip between the “heavy that makes it onto the radio” and the “heavy your
parents can’t stand.” Songs like “Petty Larson” and “Last Breath/First,” while
loaded with Scogin’s screaming, back away from the breakdowns and chugs of
metalcore, focusing in a more digestible sound palate, yet “Light Blue Collar”
and “The ‘Anni Hilat’ Ion” are driven with the barbed whips of tritone chords
and dastardly palm mutes that quickly turn a crowd into a mosh pit. Throwing Things shows five kids wavering
between two distinct genres, leaning sometimes towards the sound of Mudvayne
and sometimes towards Underoath, and though their future endeavors let us know
which side they chose, it is fascinating to hear Luti-Kriss develop in the path
of that choice.
As
the sound of the record shows, Throwing
Things was obviously part of the learning process for Luti-Kriss, a record
where they began refining their music to reflect those things they hold dear. This
is manifested also in the lyrics of the record, which kick off a campaign that
most of these musicians have shouldered since. Though Scogin is responsible for
the lyrics here, the whole band at this time shares his heady and positively
Christian outlook, probably since they all became Christians as a unit. According
to Scottie in an interview with Decapolis,
“before we got saved we were just [making music] for fun….but after the
change….we wanted to glorify God as much as we could and reach out to as many
kids like us that we could.”[3] After this moment, their
purpose for making music took on a larger-than-life meaning to them, and since
this can’t truly be expressed through the instruments, Scogin took it upon
himself to focus all of his lyrical writing through the lens of God.
With
one listen, it quickly becomes obvious that Scogin is no poet, focusing on
praising his inspiration rather than exploring it or interpreting it. However,
he does utilize biblical imagery rather well, mixing religious and militaristic
ideas with a very “Old Testament” feel. He even inserts direct references to
the Bible: “An Act of My Own Volition” calls on the iconic two thieves,[4] while in “Catharsis,”
Scogin implores that God to “bathe [his] feet among the wicked.”[5]
While Scogin’s messages are surely suited for a Christian audience, they end up pretty hard to digest for anyone who isn’t of his faithful persuasion. It doesn’t help that his vocals are all but unintelligible—his screams are heavy but poorly expressive, and even when he does attempt to sing in songs like “Patiently Philadelphia,” his vocals are so buried in the mix they’re almost nonexistent. Interestingly, however, Scogin seems to be completely aware that both his singing and his topics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, and addresses as much in “For Shadows” where he asserts his convictions with the lines “I see a controversy / and the world looking at me / Eighteen years / I’m done with chairs.”[6] It takes guts to be so gung-ho about one’s beliefs, and so even though the blatant Christian overtones might lack subtlety, it’s hard not to give Luti-Kriss credit for putting their youth to a purpose so fully.
While Scogin’s messages are surely suited for a Christian audience, they end up pretty hard to digest for anyone who isn’t of his faithful persuasion. It doesn’t help that his vocals are all but unintelligible—his screams are heavy but poorly expressive, and even when he does attempt to sing in songs like “Patiently Philadelphia,” his vocals are so buried in the mix they’re almost nonexistent. Interestingly, however, Scogin seems to be completely aware that both his singing and his topics aren’t everyone’s cup of tea, and addresses as much in “For Shadows” where he asserts his convictions with the lines “I see a controversy / and the world looking at me / Eighteen years / I’m done with chairs.”[6] It takes guts to be so gung-ho about one’s beliefs, and so even though the blatant Christian overtones might lack subtlety, it’s hard not to give Luti-Kriss credit for putting their youth to a purpose so fully.
Along
with the marginal lyrical work, there are a few other decisions on Throwing Myself that don’t quite work.
Vocals aside, the whole mix is rather messy, especially on the hidden track—the
guitars very easily blend together and the drum kit is stacked with enough
reverb to make an 80’s hair-metal band sick. Also, about half the songs also
feature Mick Bailey on turntables and sampling, parts which apparently weren’t
removed after he left halfway through recording,[7] but simply buried in the
mix. His only real contributions are the bottle-rocket glissandos that pepper
the heavier riffs, but ultimately, he was completely unnecessary to the sound,
because the parts are so sparse and pointless, you forget he was even there.
These
faults are pretty prevalent when the record is in heavy rotation, but I am more
than happy to chalk them up to the naiveté of youth and count them as steps on
the road to refining their sound, because there are moments when they get everything right. One example is the
song “Light Blue Collar,” in which these five musicians encompass the entirety
of their metal upbringing: the main riff centers around a thrashed tritone
chord, which is whipped about on the tail of some disturbing palm mutes and
hammer-ons. Davidson’s drum sticks batter his kit into submission in the
multiple breakdowns, and just as the song begins to unwind into chaos, Josh’s
arrogant scream rips it into a heavy chugging riff followed by a melodically
destructive outro. “Light Blue Collar” epitomizes Luti-Kriss’ sonic intentions,
grabbing with both hands to define this corner of music as their own.
In
a review from the website jesusfreakhideout.com, Sherwin Frias calls Throwing Myself “the opening salvo that
sets the stage for any future mayhem their later incarnation would be known
for.” Despite the youth-driven decisions and overconfident message, this record
stands on its own as heavy, hearty, and honest. For me, the raw and untested
sound to which Luti-Kriss gives life on this full-length is one that I cannot
help but appreciate, for it led to the conception of one of my favorite bands.
Without every mistake embedded on this disc, Norma Jean would not have evolved
into the intelligent, technical, and powerful act that I have come to adore.
Luti-Kriss and Throwing Myself are a
pivotal part of Norma Jean’s story, just as Sock Full of Pennies and Nothing to
Prove are parts of mine; without our origins, the humans and the creators we
are today hold little significance, because they have none of the hard-earned
truth that gives all art both meaning and life.
Tunes to Check Out:
1) Light Blue Collar
2) Petty Larson
3) Patiently Philadelphia
