Kurokuma - Of Amber and Sand
“Feats of Heavy Metal Engineering While Maintaining a Sound
That Is Structurally and Sonically Their Own.”
Written by Big Bear Buchko

This album starts with a chicken.

In a world with a hundred dozen different genres of metal, each and every one of them trying their hardest to be the hardest; with blast beats and guitars distorted all to hell; nonsensical noise with nonsensical names; this album starts… with a chicken.

And you know what – I’m into it. Give me something different, goddammit; give me something weird! A chicken?! A succulent death metal chicken?! Fuck yeah, I am into it. Let’s do this. Kurokuma has my attention from the first b’gawk out the b’gate and I am ready to rock out with my cock out. The album is called “Of Amber and Sand,” and even now, as I’m minutes away from finishing my first complete play through, I can comfortably say that – chicken or not – I love this record, and I love what they’ve done and how they do it. Kurokuma is a band that takes their time. They build. They create. There’s no sense of urgency here, but an underlying emphasis on their craftsmanship. Everything feels deliberate and meticulously, painstakingly placed. Every note feels intentional, and I love that. There is something comforting about knowing you’re in the presence of people that know what they’re doing, so you can just sit back, relax, and enjoy the experience.

We begin, of course… with the chicken. This album starts with a chicken. “I Am Forever” is the chicken song, and the chicken song is damn good. A moment later and we are greeted with a perfect groove of guitars and bass in flawless synchronized rhythm, hard and funky and reminiscent of only the greatest of nu-metal bands the early ‘00s had to offer. I was so curious what kind of vocals would come in to join such an awesome instrumental introduction, but deep, dark, and raspy death metal vocals were a tremendous surprise. As is my biggest complaint with most new records these days, the vocals are too low and mixed too far to the back, but despite the strain to bring him fully forward where he should be, the song rocks. We move in through the chorus and into the bridge, where we’re met with hand drums, a thuddy d-tuned bass, and more layers than you would ever expect to find in a production like this. Much like with the chicken, Kurokuma is telling you that this is something different. And I like it.

The next song… is filler, a phrase that I could undoubtedly repeat numerous times as the album is chock full of them; after every song is some kind of forty-five second to one-minute long atmospheric warble. This means that of the eleven tracks featured on “Of Amber and Sand,” only five of them are actual songs (plus an instrumental piece towards the end). While I certainly don’t mind short musical vignettes on a record, it ultimately works better when there’s a few more full-length tracks in between them, not just song > filler > song > filler, etc. I got used to it, but it was still a good bit annoying to have to deal with. It’s a “full album” thing that fails in translation to digital cuts in the digital age, so we’re going to basically ignore tracks 2, 4, 6, 7, 8, and 10.

“Death No More” - which is technically just another way of saying “I Am Forever,” I guess – is the next proper song of decent length, and immediately I am struck by the innovative guitar structure and playful use of sound. This is what early Tool used to sound like, or Broken-era Nine Inch Nails. There is a bent and beautiful ode here to the industrial metal revolution of the ‘80s and ‘90s that just works for me, and the juxtaposition of such violent vocals with such intricate melodies is the underlying spirit behind the force of this band. I’m reminded of Sleepytime Gorilla Museum or late-‘80s Ministry, and I like it. The instant in which I realize that I’m actually enjoying an album is one of my favorite feelings in the world, and I press forward with excitement and glee. “Fenjaan” is next (minus the filler), and I am greeted with a fresh and funky salvo that I honestly wasn’t prepared for. This is better than “good” or “great;” this is actually fun!

The bass guitar is standing out so prominent and proud that I’m almost caught off guard with the explosive eruption of the entire band kicking in together. Kurokuma is not a band of loosely collected musicians all waiting for their moment in the spotlight. This is a band with chemistry. They all seem to know where they are and where everyone else is for every minute of every song. I’m genuinely impressed by what they are capable of together. This band… has a future. And then filler. Instrumental. Filler. “Crux Ansata.” For a band that seems to really take their craft seriously, it’s here that their synchronization really comes into focus. They’re a band that’s very aware of the wavelength that they’re riding on, and the stark unison in which they play reflects their awareness and respect for each other.

Every track on Of Amber and Sand brings something different to the party, and at no point can you anticipate the twists and turns ahead. Hand drums? A couple times. Sitar solo? No shit, it’s there. Expert guitar playing and properly valued bass? Spades across the board. Not only all of that, but they manage these feats of heavy metal engineering while maintaining a sound that is structurally and sonically their own. I’m disappointed that I can’t hear the vocals better, but I’m also endlessly appreciative of the fact that this band included the lyrics for their songs in their press release! I’m giving them bonus points for that fact alone. 

While I have no previous frame of reference for Kurokuma, from an outsider’s perspective, I can tell you that they killed it with Of Amber and Sand, and if you are any kind of a fan of… we’ll say “less abrasive metal,” then I say you find it. Buy it. Download it. Whatever. Find these guys, give ‘em a “Like” and a follow, and do whatever you can to get them on the bill at whatever two-bit juke joint still caters to good, complex, underground music. There is no conceivable way that the aural resonation of Kurokuma isn’t expanded a hundred fold for an expectedly passionate, powerful performance. As for me, as a reviewer, I got my copy of Of Amber and Sand for free in a packet of about two dozen other albums, but unlike all of those other albums that I’ll wantonly tear through throughout the week, this one… I’m gonna keep for myself.