952. W.A.S.P. / K.F.D. 1997. 3.5/5

To say this is a different style of album from W.A.S.P. is an understatement. On the first three albums we had plenty of crazy fun, tongue-in-cheek metal played loud and hard with lyrics that ranged from the tended sexual innuendo to political and worldly rights and wrongs. They were great. The follow up was a mature sounding evolution that still combined topics in the lyrical department but with a heavy and progressive sound that hinted at a band that knew where it was going. Following some line-up turmoil came the great rock opera, one that was hailed for its conception and presentation. More band turmoil followed, and the predecessor to this album was lost in direction as much as the writer and performer appeared lost in his own life and career.

My main problem with K.F.D. is not necessarily the change in the musical direction, but that it sounds like there is just a wall of noise coming out at you for the majority of the time. Yes, it has been brought to my attention that this is pretty much an industrial metal album, which is a completely different direction from what previous W.A.S.P. albums have offered us in the past. As a result, most of the songs sound like variations of each other, thus depriving them of their individuality. Sure, it sounds heavy and comes across that way, with guitars turned up to eleven and just raged upon, while Blackie screams over the top, or at least through the middle somewhere. Don't be fooled though, some of these songs are great without that technique having to be used.
There could be a fair case made that Blackie and Chris had anger issues when they were writing this album. There's no holding back here, and their pointed rage is spewed out through the songs all the way through. The opening track and title track "Kill Fuck Die" leaves you in no doubt from the beginning that it is coming at you. This is followed by "Take the Addiction" that continues in that framed, with distorted guitar and Blackie's vocals at your throat. "My Tortured Eyes" sounds like a beefed up version of "The Gypsy and the Boy" from the rock opera, a bit more electric than that of course.
"Killahead" however is a ripper, one from the top shelf of W.A.S.P. songs with its full on pace and rage, but especially in this case because the instruments can be picked out from one another, rather that just becoming one huge ball of crazy. Lyrically it's not one of the most deep and meaningful. It is the one you put on at a party when the alcohol has taken effect and you need to start slamming. "Kill Your Pretty Face" starts off like a couple of numbers here, with the quiet clear guitar and Blackie's high voiced sighing, before building into that wall of noise and screaming coming through that wall. The technique is effective, but I must admit that it's a momentum killer for me, just because the album itself had been building, and then it gets stopped by this track in a couple of ways. It finishes up okay, but not enough to withdraw my annoyance at it.
The short trappings of "Fetus" moves into "Little Death" where a little more rage comes into the mix. Certainly Stet Howland's drumming is a non-stop cacophony throughout this song. Is there any point where he comes to a rest? "U" wanders between the reflective and the anger management course that is built upon by almost every song here. Strangely enough though, "Wicked Love" is almost the most conventional W.A.S.P. song on the album, and yet comes across as perhaps one of the weakest. No, I don't know how that happened either. The final track "The Horror" builds from the quiet to the distraught, but in the end comes across as a slightly manic and disturbed version of the closing track from the rock opera, "The Great Misconceptions of Me". From it's quiet and almost deathly silent beginning, the build up of distortion continues until we have the final conclusion up near the stratosphere.

When this was released I had pretty much given up on W.A.S.P. as a band. After the previous album (that really should have been labelled as a solo release for Blackie) I felt the end had come. In a way I guess it had. The direction and style of this album was completely different from what had come before, and it would not be repeated in the future. Though there are some good songs here, and the album as a whole can be enjoyed when placed in the CD player, it grows tired quickly on repeat hearings unless you an appreciate the style it is recorded in.

Rating:   "I'm the horror on the edge".  3.5/5