“The future won’t all be chrome and lasers, the futuristic could be the sound of two sticks being rubbed together.” Think about that for a moment. K.H. mirth is a band that says this kind of thing. This is a group that sit somewhere in the mindset between solo Syd Barrett lo-fi psychedelia, and the authentic punk of improvised musical weapons and unemployment line PR work. “You don’t have any cash, but come and jump around and spill drinks with us”. popbollocks should print that on a band t-shirt for K.H. mirth. We’d all make serious bank.
K.H. mirth have a new double single, and we’re going to talk about it for a bit. The titles of the tracks are ‘Falling Over’ and ‘Say Yes’. The tracks belong together, but they also deliver enough contrast so that when you listen with friends you can have a heated debate on which song is best. One on side there’s the sardonic, playfully questioning ‘Say Yes’. On the other side there’s the playfully questioning, sardonic ‘Falling Over’.
‘Falling Over’ requests that observers refrain from kicking the narrator when he falls down. Guitar work is brittle, slightly demented. This could be played on a loop in a party bathroom for an entire night – the cool attendees would never leave, and the initiation to enter the hole K.H. mirth have dug would be complete. This shit is cultishly good. We could live in this track, or at least occupy it on a time share basis. Yeah. Really.
‘Say Yes’ has a hook that conjures images of those late-sixties, early-seventies kids shows that were re-run in the eighties. Sort of psychedelic, sort of unnerving, this thing spirals all over the place like Rhubarb and Custard theme tune with pubic hair and a half-drunk bottle of brew. Like those kids shows, the optimism is infectious. We’re not talked down to, and we’re not spoon fed any explanations. K.H. mirth address their audience as if we have the intelligence to get between the lines, and way down into the groove. And so we do.
Short and punchy, both of these tracks invite repeat, or several repeats. They’re ambitious – not because they’re attempting to break the big time, or fill stadiums with swagger, but because the intention here is to preserve and celebrate the sense of self worth that so few bands drop when aspiring to be something other than themselves. K.H. mirth are refreshingly honest about scale. Their enthusiasm is beguiling, and their songs are fucking sound. Talk about this band to your friends, a whole bunch. Talk about this band so much that your friends become annoyed with you. Then your friends will ditch you. They will run off with K.H. mirth to eat Dairylea triangles in a fort they made in the living room.