There are plenty of bands out there right now jumping on the funk wagon, spiking it with hip-hop, and pulling in horns for a jazz effect, but no one is doing it quite like Crönk. A lot of bands have groove, but Crönk pumps the groove with an attitude that gives the sum total of musical parts an extra kick, sealing the fusion with a unique character that you won’t find elsewhere. Where other bands bore their listeners in a sea of aimless drivel, Crönk explodes off the mark with a vengeance. There is a certain fearlessness about this band as a whole that enhances the raw talent of its constituents.
Crönk is the bastard child of local sousaphonk conglomerate All That. The byproduct of a reportedly unfriendly splintering of the mother band, Crönk emerged when the scandalous smoke cleared. Drummer Derrick “Mr. Smoker” Freeman provides the consolidating back beat and charismatic personality that led this new six-piece band from virtual obscurity to popular intrigue in six short months. Crönk encompasses a rainbow of local musicians from such a variety of backgrounds and influences, it is no wonder that the ensuing product is not quite like anything you’ve heard before.
What this record lacks in perfection, it makes up for in purpose. Big horns, a loose beat, and lyrics more straight-up than sensitive, the first track will definitely make you listen, and probably make you dance. Straight away, Crönk shows you the street value of just a touch of misogyny with emissions of sexual frustration: “Always teasin’, never pleasin’/There’s no reason for this treason/I don’t give a fuck about your family calamity/All I wanna know is if you’re gonna get down with me.” The woes of the use-her-and-lose-her lifestyle resurface with “We Can Be Lovers,” a track that could easily become a hit single with just the right balance of melodic pop and heavy groove. A strong two-piece horn section delivers dissonant, driving riffs atop a full plate of raw rhythm and sub-melodies for contrary motion effect. It is difficult to stand still when this stuff is on.
Crönk is not for the dull or the easily offended. Strategically, Wegotchu endears itself to the listener with its infectious groove by the time “Statutory” rolls around. A departure from essential Crönk `a la Captain Midnight (the band’s ironically unmysterious guitar-playing comic), this hard rock number chronicles exactly what its title suggests, leaving few stones unturned in the string of commentary on twenty-something male taboos pervading this record. Mind you, there is no angst to be had here. Crönk is honest, not whiny, with farcical overtones to prove that art need not be serious to have value.
The word on the street is you either Crönk or you get Crönked. Take your pick.
