I first listened to The West is the Future in the summer of 2005. It was sunny, all my exams were over, and life was good. I listened to the album a couple of times, but couldn't really hear much that grabbed me, so it got gradually forgotten, and sunk to the bottom of the pile of CDs I was listening to at the time. And there it lay until, near the end of November, I decided to get through all the albums that I still hadn't really listened. So, one evening, I opened a can of cider, put the album on, and sat back to listen. After spending the next few days irritating all my friends by trying to convince them to listen to the album, I began wondering how I had missed this gem the first time round.

As I found out, this is one of those albums where the mood you're in will really affect how much you'll enjoy it. If you're one of life's permanent optimists, or like your music upbeat and disposable, this won't be for you. The West Is The Future is a very downbeat album that looks at the world through the eyes of some of life's darker characters.

Album opener, Pilgrim, has Darren Jackson throwing out barbed lyrics over a galloping drumbeat and snappy, insistent guitar playing. The song builds up a relentless energy until it seems to be some unstoppable force, driving all before it. This energy is then sapped somewhat by the next track, Homesteader, one of my favourites on the album, which melds the larger picture of the death of an agricultural society to a more personal tale of a stillborn baby, and the death of its mother in childbirth. Despite the quiet delivery, and the slow pace, this song manages to be incredibly powerful, with the whispered refrain of "In our own image" lending the track a haunting quality.

The whole album displays an incredible sense of despair, and is probably one of the darkest albums in my collection. Even staples of grief such as Disintegration had their happy moments, but The West Is The Future is unremittingly bleak. The characters featured in the songs are all tainted in one way or another, from the incestuous couple in Pine Ridge (“She is 14, expecting, he is 40, neglecting”) to the mentally tortured Ivan, who has the magnificent line “I try to love everyone and everything, but I'm always so indifferent in the end”.

Amongst the bleakness, only Ten Thousand Lakes has even a hint of brightness. Describing the recovery of the narrator from heroin addiction over a Minnesota winter, the beautifully cold guitar line gives it a similar sound to the rest of the album, whilst occasionally allowing moments of optimism and hopefulness to shine through. The other seemingly autobiographical song on the album, 2001, showcases Jackson's fear of mortality, as he desperately prays for life as he lies on his hospital bed. It seems overlong, though, compared to much of the album, and I find my attention wandering as it plays out. The finale, Atomic Pilgrim, is absolutely breathtaking, with a quiet refrain on the tune and lyrics of Pilgrim. With a slow, dejected delivery, it plays the album out by describing the destruction wreaked by an atom bomb.

So, depressing? Certainly. If you don't mind listening to music that'll plunge you into melancholy, then this is a highly recommended album. It's certainly not an easy listen, as the alt-goth-folk (eh, it's a bit hard to categorise this album) and highly allegorical lyrics can make it a bit too dark for some. But if you don't mind that, buy this album and a bottle of whiskey, make sure any guns are locked safely away, then have a listen (and a drink) on a cold winter night. This is the perfect time to get into the dark world of Kid Dakota, especially since their next release, A Winner's Shadow, is due out before the end of 2006.

Release date: 05/10/04
Artist website: www.kiddakota.com
Label: Chairkickers

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