Kvisa, in Hebrew – כביסה – means “laundry” or “washing”. I did not know that off the top of my head, even though I went to Hebrew school for most of my childhood. You think I learned anything there? No, I was carving lists of my favorite songs into the awful wooden desks. And that’s why I’m a music writer now.
Anyway, Kvisa is also the name of a Tel Aviv-based emo band, which dropped their debut album A Pathetic Excuse For A Feeling last September. It is difficult to write about any art coming out of Israel these days, especially in light of recent and continued events. But we publish plenty of articles about bands from America, and right now the United States is both the laughingstock of the world and an increasingly cruel pariah. But many Americans don’t align with the horrid positions of their government these days, just as a sizable portion of Israelis don’t agree with theirs. So for now, I’ll give Kvisa the benefit of the doubt. (Don’t disappoint me, guys.)
Despite Kvisa’s primary location – with their secondary being the UK – they have quite a solid first record in A Pathetic Excuse For A Feeling. The band’s vibe ekes elements of the Smashing Pumpkins, Title Fight, and Slowdive, all groups Kvisa’s members listened to growing up. From the “Intro”, all of those different influences come into play: Cinematic guitars, spoken word interludes, thunderous drums, and a low end that rattles the room. Live footage of the band on their Instagram confirms that the bass can indeed move people through sheer sonic power alone.
Kvisa doesn’t hold any emotion back, choosing to double down on the dramatic, the yearning, the outbursts of rage, lust, and craving. On “She Won’t Be There”, lyricist Edan Sadeh considers crashing his car out of loneliness against the pained shredding of guitars behind him. “Praying Out Loud” is full of thirst, conjuring images of the band falling to their knees and crying out in need of touch, thrashing in frustration during the bridge.
“Apathetic, So Pathetic” – close enough to a title track – explores bouncing between feeling nothing and then feeling bad about feeling nothing, and then getting emotionally lost in the mix. This track is where the Pumpkins’ elements really shine: Soft, glistening guitars and dreamy vocals dominate most of the verses, but the choruses explode with noise to reflect the mental anguish.
On “Cigarette”, the band takes a post-punk turn into pure hedonism: Poisoning the body, sinking into pleasure, giving the body and soul over to physical delights. This is perhaps the most “goth” song on the album: Nothing embodies this track except for black lust, cavorting in the darkness, letting any semblance of willpower go out the window with the smoke. And at the end, only numbness remains: “I Can’t Feel My Face” asks the subject of the song if they feel that lack of feeling too. In fact, the song begs them to feel it, almost as if the regret of the events of “Cigarette” has sunk in.
So “Take Me Home” goes inward, reflecting on the little moments of love between two people and how easy sadness comes when those times become scarce. The song stems from Sadeh’s earliest songwriting, and – at least in the beginning – lets shine the band’s ability to play softly. Then “Ease In As Her Memory Fades Away” leans into that loss, breaking down into full-blown shoegaze angst as everything falls apart. “Atmosphere” ends the record with an extended instrumental and minimal lyrics, creating a bookend with the “Intro” and putting a cap on the chronicle of emotion.
Kvisa holds fast to the translation of their name: Their official logo even has a clothespin in it. On A Pathetic Excuse For A Feeling, they’re airing everything out: All their emotions, their pains, their anxieties, and more. One has to wonder if Kvisa thinks of their neighbors’ pains as well, for the band advertises their music as for those “searching for passion and the love for a ‘home’ that has always been missing.”
It’s always interesting to cover music from areas where the global opinion leans negative. Israel does have a thriving music scene with a niche but growing emo sect. But when dealing with songs that grapple with intense emotion, how can one separate those feelings from the greater picture? Does societal tension exacerbate the personal? Does it matter? If not, why?
Perhaps here, on A Pathetic Excuse For A Feeling, the only thing to do is take the music at face value. And to that extent, it’s a very good and cathartic record where the band members – four regular emo dudes – seek to let their noisy soundwaves cleanse them and their listeners of their physical and mental pain. But sometimes, no matter what shape it takes, there’s a spot that never comes out.
Kvisa are Edan Sadeh, Elad Witzman, Joshua Hozias, and Ron Ben David. Take a listen to “Apathetic, So Pathetic” from A Pathetic Excuse For A Feeling below.
Written by Will Sisskind
