In resurrecting the band Krill—declared dead over 10 years ago—Jonah Furman considered the turritopsis nutricula: the “immortal jellyfish” that reverts to juvenile form instead of dying. “I was always afraid of coming home,” he says. “But home is inescapable.” Now living in the same Chicago suburb he grew up in, Furman ponders the passage of time on Secret Language, a nostalgic and cerebral exploration of family, fatherhood, and fated love.
From 2010 to 2015, Krill recorded three LPs and two EPs, growing into a cult project revered for its complex, rapturous compositions. Anxious, anthemic, mathy, propulsive, they were beloved by Frankie Cosmos, Girlpool, Horse Jumper of Love, and countless others. Personal lives took priority and brought the project to an official close, save for two reunion shows and a 2020 album under the name Knot, but that's retroactively a Krill album, “because it's easier that way.”
The project was revived “on a whim” as Furman puts it: “Theo from Ovlov asked if Krill wanted to open a Chicago show. Then I started writing new stuff.” He recruited Krill’s longtime drummer Ian Becker who, too, had just moved back to town. Both had known guitarist Andrew Clinkman (also of Spirits Having Fun and Moontype) during their collective years in Boston and growing up in Chicagoland, and soon he joined the fold. On Secret Language, the trio tap into their reclaimed city’s famed music community, drawing inspiration from current locals the same way Krill were inspired by their Boston contemporaries like Pile and Speedy Ortiz instead of Pixies or Mission of Burma. Recorded in Humboldt Park with Patter’s Seth Engel (producer and engineer), Secret Language marks the first time Krill has brought in additional players. Local artists Macie Stewart (of Finom, violin), Maria Jacobson (of Fran, backing vocals), and Will Greene (of Trigger, saxophone) add new layers of sonics and studio exploration previously uncharted by Krill.
Across the record, Furman’s lyrics pull magic from the mundane: smoking a cigarette on a porch, reliving a conversation from childhood, driving on a midwest highway. “Commemorative Plaque” draws inspiration from Aretha Franklin, reflecting on Sunday mornings past and present to illuminate your beloved person as the answer you’ve been looking for. “The punchline to the joke I’ve been telling my whole life was you,” Furman belts as the song reaches a feverish conclusion: erratic stops and starts, Becker’s agitated beats against Clinkman’s playful stabs of guitar. Set in the warmth of a child’s bedroom, “Secret Language” is the record’s beating heart, a glowing magnum opus of love and devotion. The tender title track features sweeping instrumentals, sublime background vocals from Jacobson, and lines from Goodnight Moon read backwards (“It’s something I do with my kids that drives them nuts,” Furman explains). “Dominate” delivers a dark punch through parable, starring the Chicago Bulls and the Iraq War in unlikely roles. Over serpentine rhythms, a young Furman questions the merits of power and control. “Who do you dominate when you dominate yourself?” he asks, before a surprise twist right at the buzzer.
On Secret Language, home can be anything: a place, a person, a feeling. But Krill is “very much” a Chicago band now; a new beginning where it all began.
