Vinyl Review: "Axiom" by Kilter

So.

I'm sitting here at the Group W bench.

Before we dig too deep into this tale, everybody knows how this goes right?

I walked free and I didn't have to join the draft because I couldn't be rehabilitated after being a litter bug.

So, instead we turned to music.

At this point, it's grown so tiresome being the only one talking to me that I've begun talking to ourselves.

It's time to put our keen and penetrating minds on a band from New York or Paris called Kilter. Kilter might just be the greatest off the wall naming of a band that we've ever heard.

At first glance...it's just a shortening of Off Kilter right? Certainly that has to be it, but...

What if it's not?

As long as the topic has been brought up, what is on kilter anyway? Is ON KILTER another way of saying tickitey boo? By this point the amoeba in our systems have begun arguing with the white blood cells regarding this conundrum.

Where does it lead us?

On.

It simply leads us on. As we walk down the path of the train station, we await the train that's going to take us where we need to be. It's become clear that we're in the wrong places.

Step on the train.

Move forward. We all know that trains don't go backwards. You have to go forward to get back.

Clearly.

It's going to be some time before we arrive to our destination, so sit back, and enjoy it.

What was that?

In your peripheral vision, there's something...something that doesn't belong. A green leafed tree during the winter contrasting against the driven snow?

Certainly not. Unfortunately, we've chosen the car nearest the bar car, so one can't see behind, much less multidimensional beings.

As we settle down to sleep it off, there's another, and another...and before we know it, the train is surrounded by green trees with flowers on, but the land below...is covered in snow.

It's impossible for such things to exist simultaneously, but here we all are. We are all simply waiting to pluck some fruit as the train barrels by, but the snow, it's deep.

Halfway to the next station we are...and the white and green, they mix so well, but something is yet amiss.

There's no conductor on the train. The ubiquitous fixture is missing. How can a train run if there's no one maintaining any semblance of order?

Is this even real life at this point?

In this world gone mad, there are two engineers on this train and one of them is walking up and down the aisles taking tickets.

The apple trees are bearing fruit in the dead of winter and I've just about had it with this abject insanity and can take it no longer....

What was once insanity becomes routine.

These glorious animals we call homo sapiens have the capacity to adapt. Murder is the new normal. Treason is the new patriotism.

Who cares that a bass player is doing the job the lead guitarist and there's a saxophone instead of lead vocals?

At this point the mundane has been eviscerated and Monty Python has come to power.

Join us.

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