Song titles like “Gravity’s Rainbow” ought to make you hesitantly suspicious of Klaxons. Any new band that names a song after Thomas Pynchon’s epic postmodern novel is trying hard – perhaps too hard, methinks -- to gain instant listener respect. And while this English group may not ultimately have the same impact as did/does the reclusive Mr. Pynchon, Myths of the near Future is nevertheless a catchy and powerful -- albeit, many times confounding debut.
Klaxons lyrics appear to be intentionally vague. Science fiction is an obvious lyrical influence, exemplified by “Two Receivers” and its lines, “And in space/Two receivers turn away.” Next up is “Atlantis to Interzone,” which is powered by sonic elements that include a siren sound intro and nearly industrial-sounding beats. And for a few moments, the track surprisingly also goes into a Franz Ferdinand, jittery guitar thing. During “Gravity’s Rainbow” Klaxons announce, “I'll Steal you from the year 4000,” over a prominent piano part. “Come with me/Come with me/We’ll travel to infinity,” the act adds later. In addition to its out-front piano lines, this song also incorporates Robert Fripp-y electric guitar, too.
Nevertheless, there is also beauty mixed amongst Klaxons’ scary future world forebodings. “Golden Skans,” for instance, begins with a Beach Boy-high vocal intro that would make the Wilson family proud. And melodically, this track is downright catchy, as well.
In fact, this lovely song drove me to Urbandictionary.com in search of the meaning for “Golden Skans.” Maybe I’m totally un-hip, but I have no idea what a golden skan is. I was hoping against hope it wasn’t like the similar sounding golden showers term. Here’s what I found:
“Inspired by the song by the Klaxons, this is the age old process of creeping up on someone and poking them hard as you can in the gooch whilst possibly smacking or grabbing at their bollocks! If it don't hurt it's not a golden skan! To add a bit of variety/excitement you can chant the words "golden skan" afterwards to a variety of well-known tunes, this also emphasizes the annoyance and advertises to others the fact that your victim has well and truly been golden skanned!”
But this gag-y explanation doesn’t at all match the song’s otherwise beatific lyrics, which include: “Light touch my hand, in a dream of Golden Skans, from now on/You can forget our future plans/Night touch my hand with the turning Golden Skans, from the night and the light, all plans are golden in your hand.” Such dreamy words don’t come anyplace close to describing the type of prank described above, which is custom made for the Jackass series. Here’s a word of warning: You cannot trust everything you read on the internet.
The CD title, Myths of the near Future, at least holds out small hope. Human mythology, after all, is little more than made up stuff, so maybe this spooky, futuristic foreshadowing is only applied for literary shock value alone. But something tells me my optimistic assumption is untrue. I get the nagging impression these Klaxons are almost certainly pessimists and likely believe their musical myths will one day be called scientific facts, instead. I also gets shivers from the “near Future” part of that phrase. Is the end nearer than we think?
Although I cannot speak from experience – since I never read the book -- my understanding is that Thomas Pynchon’s Gravity’s Rainbow is a mysterious collection of prose; one that takes deep thinking and study to truly appreciate. Klaxons share this leaning toward the mysterious, but at least these musicians couch word paradoxes in hum-able music. And that’s something Pynchon certainly never accomplished. So there!
In the end, is it possible to fall in love with something (such as a collection of songs) that you do not fully comprehend? That’s the question I keep asking myself because listening to Klaxons is close to just such difficult love. Klaxons make pretty music, which is also pretty confusing. The group is easy to respect, yet hard to love.
Song titles like “Gravity’s Rainbow” ought to make you hesitantly suspicious of Klaxons. Any new band that names a song after Thomas Pynchon’s epic postmodern novel is trying hard – perhaps too hard, methinks -- to gain instant listener respect. And while this English group may not ultimately have the same impact as did/does the reclusive Mr. Pynchon, Myths of the near Future is nevertheless a catchy and powerful -- albeit, many times confounding debut. 
