Track By Track: Capitol K – Artichoke

5 Minute Read
Capitol K – Artichoke
Music
 

After more than a decade navigating mostly instrumental territory, Kristian Craig Robinson has circled back to where it all began.

On Artichoke, his milestone tenth album as Capitol K, the Malta-based producer returns to the off-kilter vocal electronica that defined his pre-to-post-millennial reign. What prompted the shift? A live request to revisit archive material like the classic Pillow from 2000 and the insider gem ‘Love in Slow Motion’ from Happy Happy – a reminder of the voice-led experimentalism that first put Capitol K on the map.

 

Rather than dust off old blueprints, Robinson set about reclaiming and reinventing that sound entirely from scratch. Working from his home studio with a choice selection of vintage synthesisers and drum machines – Roland TR-66, DR-55, CR8000, Elektron Machinedrum, Nord Lead 2, and more – he’s crafted something that feels both familiar and entirely fresh. Gestated in winter, bloomed in spring: Artichoke is a multi-layered blossom, prickly yet vital, best taken with a generous pinch of salt.

The themes? Requisite eulogies to love, the urbane, our digital age, and those simple moments – visiting the kiosk with friends – that ground us in the everyday. The tracks were all created as jams with vocals improvised on the spot. “It all comes from the subconscious, and I did not want to censor myself,” Robinson explains. The whole album was created spontaneously, opening what he calls “a channel to the transcendent moments of our lightest and darkest states.”

It’s Capitol K at his most direct and honest, bold in execution, unapologetically himself. For those who stuck around and the new ears ready to listen, here’s how each track on Artichoke took root.

So, with that in mind, we’ve asked him to talk us through the album track by track…

 
Capitol K – Capitol K Photo by Mili DeLaTorre-3
 

Lean Into Me

I wanted to capture the exhilaration of awakened desire. Renewing my love for singing, Lean Into Me is an invitation to romance. It’s both the first song I wrote and the last one I finished for the album.

Cactus Steam

It tells the story of Cactus Steam — an incomplete redemption arc. By the end he’s looking to settle… maybe? The mood of this track is inspired by a classic: Romanthony – The Wanderer. Drums here are from an Elektron Machinedrum. As with the whole album, the tracks were all created as jams and all the vocals were improvised on the spot. It all comes from the subconscious, and I did not want to censor myself. I am Cactus Steam, and this is my confession.

Skyscrapers of Love

I wanted the synths to sound like you’re on a fairground ride — a rollercoaster of romance set in a dichotomous metropolis (which could be Hackney or any other regenerated urban zone of choice). The protagonist faces dizzy heights of passion and ultra-violence. I was reading an excellent collection of J.G. Ballard short stories at the time, and this really infiltrated my lyrics.

Nasty Robot

The TR-66 drum preset leads the way (the other drum machines used across the album are the Machinedrum and DR-55). I was listening to The Cramps when this one came about. Improvised lyrical role-play again: “It’s no time to be leaving — now you’re living by design,” Nasty Robot: “Yeah, I’m nasty,” “Piss off!” I have a clip of me performing this live for the first time in a fog of haze and light with a room full of dancers. I tracked in the extra synth pads I’d improvised in that show, and now this track forever takes me into that floating space.

A Hand, An Eye Given…

I visualise someone cutting off their own hand and plucking out an eyeball in a Romanesque cinema sequence to this piece. A Hand, An Eye Given… is about nurturing and what we have to give of ourselves. I’m using the same combo of synths throughout the album, one of which is a Nord Lead running in unison with a Waldorf Streichfett — which has this very rich, nostalgic string timbre. This is my most prog moment on the album. It’s also quite a sorrowful one. The whole album was created very spontaneously with an open channel to the transcendent moments of our lightest and darkest states.Capitol-K-Track-By-Track.pdf

Check Double

An instrumental version of this track was used for a short dance sequence by a collection of demonic, green-toothed nymphs — it was most fitting. The lyrical version is a self-deprecating looped monologue by the architect of their own demise. I strum some acoustic guitar on this one — the only use of guitar on the album. This is my neo-folk doom moment. Sometimes you get burned so bad! “I should have known I was trouble, I should have known to check double.”Capitol-K-Track-By-Track.pdf

This Life

It’s a wondrous life. It was also the title of an iconic TV series from the 90s, and this track has nothing to do with that. But it’s a well-developed instrumental break after all that introspection and flow of consciousness. The Nord Lead synth really comes into its own here. I sent an early demo of this to a friend who was driving night-time delivery trucks around New York City, and he got back immediately wanting more of the ripping, breaking frequencies, so I tracked in more and the drama unfolded as it should. The track works for me in the clouds and in the city by night.

Never Felt

A brief downtempo funk — a confession to having never felt that deeply (till now… maybe?). This track is emotionally bruised; it curls up next to you, holds you tight, then departs — but you never know if what happened was real. I’m currently opening my live set with this; it gets me in the mood to sing the rest of the set. This track is very much the reset state, and it could easily open the story of the album as well as close it.

Eternal Return

Eternal Return was written as a live-set finale: a looping 303 acid motif repeats as filtered and ring-modulated layers of rhythm and lush chords cascade in and out of scene. I’m spending a lot of time out in Malta (my place of birth), and they have a love for old-school acid techno here, so this is a crowd-pleaser. Eternal return is stoic philosophy: events are pre-destined to repeat themselves

Kiosk

“We’re all meeting up at the kiosk tonight. Cheap drinks, cheap snacks, and times are tight.” Life in Malta’s summer revolves around the kiosk — it’s accessible and communal. The local kiosk is the antithesis to the over-corporatised, airport-ification of public space. I imagine myself as the old guy who’s still got the Elvis quiff, ordering a small can of beer in some cut-off denim hot pants and a sleeveless T-shirt for a moment in the final verse. The track is a bit incongruous with the rest of the album, but it love it as a sidekick bit of fun.