Pitchfork

It begins as a whisper, the warm tones of cleanly plucked electric guitars, cymbals beset by mallets, and some inviting drones bathing it all in a phosphorescent glow of sound. It's the kind of music that doesn't sound like it has much of a place to go, but you hardly care, as its company is just that pleasant. And then, at about 3\xBD minutes, it begins to boil, rising up to a cacophonous, beautiful crescendo, comprised of noises that might be guitars. And then, in a flash, it's gone, leaving you again to sit with the drones until another song comes along to take you somewhere else.

If Kinski's entire debut album (assuming you don't consider their 45-minute debut EP an album) were as good as that first track, I'd be grabbing you by your virtual collar, and shaking you from across the Internet, imploring you to buy, buy, buy and spread the gospel further. As it stands, it's not, but some of it does manage to come very close. The Seattle quartet has a great many strengths-- not least of which is their impressive musicianship, which rears its head everywhere while never descending to the depths of masturbatory self-indulgence. And with seven tracks hovering in at just under an hour, that's just about miraculous.

Volume seems very important to the band's overall aesthetic, with several tracks featuring violent shifts in dynamics at key points. "One Ear in the Sun" begins as a quiet meditation before erupting in a fuzz-encrusted blast smeared with electronic noise. The similarities to Mogwai are obvious, though Kinski lack the subtlety and control that make Mogwai such a juggernaut. "Daydream Intonation" follows with a different approach, opening at a slow pace, and gradually ramping the tempo until the band is moving at a breakneck pace. A brief breakdown launches them full force into a wild ending choked with noise, a semblance of melody coughing out from underneath it all. "That Helmut Poe Kid's Weird" is a low point, though-- it's less contoured and more given to shapeless electronic noodling, and as such, some of the passion behind the playing gets obscured.

Thankfully, though, it's followed by another standout, "Newport". Here, Kinski add vocals, courtesy of frontman Chris Martin (not the Coldplay guy, though I'm fairly certain he gets that a lot). The track proves the band not just stellar noisemakers, but able songwriters as well. Propelled by a furious assault from drummer Dave Weeks, Martin's delivery sounds far more alive than its deadpan tone might allow for in a different setting.

The high-octane approach of "Newport" and "Daydream Intonation" doesn't always work for the guys, though, as demonstrated on the mindlessly fuzzy "New India", which feels more like a casual jam than a thought-out song, and deals the record an early blow from which it thankfully recovers. Appropriately, the album ends as a whisper, just as it began, with the quietly eddying "Montgomery"-- a song that, while striking and powerful, doesn't quite match its album-opening counterpart. Still, despite its faults, Be Gentle with the Warm Turtle ranks as a quite an achievement for a young band, succeeding where others in the often tiresome world of instrumental rock have failed.