Kilravock’s ‘Tyranny of the Clock’ is ferociousity for the overworked and underheard

On his latest project ‘Tyranny of the Clock’, Steven Wayne Smith (working under his Kilravock moniker) pulls no punches. This six-track EP is as much a protest as it is a genre-bending collection of sharp, soul-bruising songs that stake a claim for art that confronts power, labour, and time itself.

Opening with ‘Who Killed Saint Monday’, Smith channels anarchist George Woodcock’s essay of the same name into a biting guitar-driven anthem that dismantles our modern devotion to the grind. The track doesn’t merely rage against the machine, it hurls a brick through time, punching forward with searing intent. You can hear the influence of post-punk and sludge-tinged rock in every snarled vocal and chugging riff, but there’s an unmistakable clarity of purpose that elevates it beyond mere pastiche.

Then there’s ‘Solidarity Forever’, a bold reinterpretation of the 1912 workers’ hymn. Stripped of its traditional celebratory tone, Smith reimagines it as a dirge for a labour movement in retreat. It’s haunting and heavy, infused with layers of sorrow and resolve. Featuring a chorus of collaborators, the track swells into something spiritual; a lament that doubles as a promise.

The EP also revisits two earlier offerings, ‘Incompatibility’ and ‘Working Class Hero’, with new mixes that amplify their grit and clarity. These remastered versions hit harder, polishing the edges without dulling the message. Meanwhile, contributions from Smith’s other projects, The Alliterates and Lucid Fugue, carry the same throughline of frustration, resistance, and existential exhaustion, but filter it through murkier, more experimental lenses.

Stylistically, ‘Tyranny of the Clock’ is a thrilling hybrid. You’ll hear nods to industrial, stoner rock, and even avant-electronica, but it’s unified by Smith’s unwavering commitment to theme and tone. The EP feels like a calloused hand on your shoulder, urging you to question everything you’ve been told about work, worth, and the ticking of the clock.

In a world increasingly defined by burnout and hustle, Kilravock dares to demand something more humane. This is protest music that doesn’t just shake its fist; it digs deep, asks hard questions, and doesn’t let up.