Many knew right away that the three friends of Krill had something special with the release of Lucky Leaves this past Spring. But the trio took this summer to really make it come to life. At this point, doctor they’re so sharp that they can insert a bit of goofy nonchalance into their set, seek but I think more so than any other band in our scene these days, vialis 40mg the themes of their music has marinated on a certain niche to the point where the audience is there for the ride along with the band.
Thursday night at Great Scott was a bittersweet end and a joyful rebirth for both Krill and their fans. While the past year was spent with Jonah Furman crooning melodies of friendship and camaraderie among his bandmates, this particular show acted as drummer Luke Pyenson’s last one in Boston for the indefinite future. While Krill will continue trucking forward with new drummer Ian Becker, the themes of Lucky Leaves will forever remain both a relic of the bands original three as well as a platform to jump towards the future. These themes are so boldly worn on their sleeves too. My friend Sam stated it best in a Facebook post: “Krill is saying what you’re thinking but don’t want to tell anyone.” Songs about the joy of self-loathing, and the weight of small misfortunes on one’s self-confidence. Feelings of defeat over ex-girlfriends and the general unfairness of the world, and then the only real cure for said feelings: sincere doses of friendship. Even simpleminded lyrics and inner commentaries about grass, twigs, and public transportation as an escape from insignificant stresses. For a generation who bottle things up out of fear of vulnerability, Krill provide a reminder that your obsessive feelings are warranted and have company.
Yikes, that sounds pretty emo, huh? Well Krill wraps it up recklessly enough that characteristically, they remain a fun band. Maybe it’s in a “misery-loves-company” kind of way, maybe it’s that they’re just a bit goofy, but it’s probably a little bit of both. Either way, it seemed perfectly fitting for Krill to close with “Slug”—a tune that they rarely play live for a pretty good reason. It’s sloppiness rendered smiles from the band as well as their audience. A clear sign that friendship continues, and Krill lasts 4ever.
