(Translated from my original Italian text by ChatGPT and Piero Scaruffi)

Ethan Buckler’s King Kong (formerly of Squirrel Bait and Slint) were somewhat the clowns of Louisville’s post-rock movement. When it works, Buckler’s setup is an amusing parody of the Talking Heads and the B52’s.

Launched on college campuses by the jovial singles Movie Star (King Kong) in 1989 (featuring the title track and The Camel's Walk Song) and Bring It On (Trash Flow) in 1990 (with The Boy), they were initially mistaken for the Half Japanese. In reality, their style—more innocent and relaxed, à la Buddy Holly—is a simple revival that turns past genres into danceable gags.

Old Man On The Bridge (Homestead, 1991) draws on the blues, from the dragged Delta style (Lifesaver Blues) to Captain Beefheart’s crackling approach (The Man), with just a few Stooges-style boogie inflections (Mama Mama). The arrangements are still rough, though the tracks are mostly instrumentals, with vocals doing little more than reciting nursery rhymes. The group’s true, goofy, danceable nature emerges in the title track.

Funny Farm (Drag City, 1993) drastically changed direction, as if Frank Zappa had joined the lineup. It’s a concept album introduced by a sort of rap-funky-country overture (the title track), a jumble of novelty (Tornado Song), B52’s-style silliness (Dirty City Rainy Day), cabaret comedy sketches (Uh-Oh), saloon blues (Bad Cat Blues), nightclub R&B (White Horse), and beach ska (Island Paradise). It also features the tropical surf of King Kong, one of the most ingenious pranks since Lions Sleep Tonight. Again, the goal is danceable fun, lightly masked as an intellectual and satirical event.

After the single Hot Dog Days and yet another lineup change, Me Hungry (Drag City, 1995) was released. The musical structures are roughly variations on the same theme: Amy Greenwood’s lilting vocals, Tod Hildreth’s gospel organ, Buckler’s surreal recitations, his blues guitar figures, and a disco-style beat. The best tracks, Animal and To Love A Yak, live off the contrast between early ’60s sounds (smoky Chicago clubs and San Francisco outdoor parties) and traces of danceable new wave, shadows of the B52’s and Talking Heads. The album can be repetitive, but it has the merit of being truly unique. Here and there a melodic line emerges (Teardrop) or it plunges into jazz improvisations (White Stuff), all wrapped in bluesy haze. Even their zany gags (Bestie Bear) and bizarre instrumentals (Ten Long Years) are subtler than usual.

Kingdom Of Kong (Drag City, 1997) is less spontaneous and perhaps less fun. The leader and singer Amy Greenwood create amusing duets, starting with the theme of Kingdom Of Kong, but they somewhat predictably repeat the same formula: lanky jamming overlaid with soulful organ phrases and funky guitar yelps, from Floor Door I Don't Wanna Party Anymore to Funky Monkey. This time, the album feels a bit too cabaret-like to be considered true “music.”