Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat An Interlude To The Outermost by: Kev Lavery Mon:06-Aug-07 Label: (K-raa-K)³ Year: 2007 WB rating 9 out of 100

So have you heard the new album by Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat? It is assumed that a majority of the answers to this question would be in the negative and, more often than not, as a direct result of the band’s name. One would have to assume that the name comes from some sort of inside Belgian joke that we are not privy to. It’s still so loaded with stigma that it was hot potatoed around Wireless Bollinger for weeks. In reference to the band’s music the name is very little indication of what you should expect from this album. The song titles are equally as confusing; An Interlude To The Outermost’s bookends being  ‘Prelude (“The World Is In Fear Again And It Has All Been Manufactured”)’ and ‘All Movements Are Targets In The Minds Of Tigers’. Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat are those people who never let you in on their little joke and as a result you tire of them quickly because it’s all you can think about.

An Interlude To The Outermost tries too hard to be important and is, frankly, quite boring and repetitive. Most songs begin and are driven by a very metallic acoustic guitar. It is an interesting effect but doesn’t work on all the songs – it is, however, present and unchanged in every song on this album. Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat find something that works and will constantly recycle it across their entire album. It doesn’t take very long to get sick of it. It is technically some sort of psychodelic folk music with some orchestral arrangements and, on some songs, “The ‘Anus’ Choir”. Led by the aptly named Stef Irritant (who is responsible for the album’s “vocals, strings, reeds, skins and metal”), Kiss The Anus Of A Black Cat produce music that is utterly pretentious complete with chanting nonsense that is to be perceived as deep. An example of this is the refrain “the moon, I love the moon” in ‘Salt’ (the album’s best track) where the lyrical lacking ruins what was an interesting piece of music with tightly arranged strings. It is the kind of music you imagine stereotypical stoners listening to while remarking about on wisdom in the profound philosophical statements. It’s not wisdom; it’s either an obscure understanding of English or just a worthless and asinine string of words.

Upon seeing An Interlude To The Outermost in a record store you may pause briefly; the cover art is a stylish picture of a small black cat taken from a book called Animal Rights and the packaging is beautifully minimalist. But don’t be fooled; what lies beneath is self-indulgent, minimalist rubbish. Upon listening to the first few tracks you may remark “this is not as bad as I thought it would be”. Give it time. Without the use of powerful hallucinogens this album is pompous, conceited and downright boring. The extreme obstinacy of Kiss The Anus Of The Black Cat is amazing. The fact that they have trudged ahead with such a repellent name despite the avenues this will close off is one thing but, either as a result of laziness or a lack of talent or brains, they reproduce songs right next to each other. The only differences between ‘The Firesky’ and ‘A Scatterbrain Sings Of Christians And The Ghoul Bares Teeth’, two songs that appear next to each other on this album, are the pretentiousness of their titles and a moderate difference in their length. An Interlude To The Outermost is a waste of compact disks, packaging, time and money; it is literally as pleasant as kissing a cat’s anus. It’s an over-produced recording of vacuous drivel that should have stayed in Irritant’s head or, at least, in his garage.