Kelman: "Here Comes The Sadness"

Here comes the kicker: Kelman are still—after six years, two albums, and one monthly residence—loitering in the cloakroom. Recognition-wise, I mean. You know when you’re dragged out to a bar/dancefloor/mess hall and you spot the unpollenated wallflower? I swear, every fucking time, whenever you hear this band. As long as there’s cords in my throat and bones in my inner ear I will therefore keep campaigning for Kelman—at least until Wayne Gooderham either wins the pools or cracks and signs his band up to Orange Music Act. “Here comes the sadness now / Oh well done / There’s a stone / In my throat / There’s a stone caught in my throat,” he murmurs this time round, horns swooping for a lovely crescendo that batters the numb storyteller into abandon. It’s been a deep session; only a moment ago he’d confessed he “can’t connect nothing with nothing,” calmly wrenching like a seasoned barfly and so gutted he could’ve just passed a fish hook. As tomes go it’s a coke-line, chopping gently for its breathy lead-in before the crest blows you up to the clouds. But only for sixteen seconds—most things devilish are disposable, after all. It failed to fit the flow of their “last album”: http://www.cokemachineglow.com/feature/4177 but it’s got too much muscle for a b-side, so it’s been decided it gets the revamp for next year’s LP#3. By that time I expect the city to have awoken like in The Midwich Cuckoos (1957), eyes aglow for fresh Kelman. How long did it take Hubert Selby Jr. to get published? Seventeen years? Fuck. Here’s to 2026.