Camaron Winter's vocals are noticeably never allowed to be subsumed under anything that is going on around them. Because so much of the feverish energy present erupts from out of his larynx. There are many touchstones stylistically that are referenced here. Winter's vocal style here at times is reminiscent of Rufus Wainwright or the Violent Femmes. Lyrically he has moments when he conjures with the spirit of unease present in early Nick Cave, bellowing about 'there's a bomb in my car' on Trinidad or in the phrasing and emphasis of 'bow down down down to Maria's dead bones' on Bow Down.
It is one of the minor miracles of this album that even when the sound touches on such influences or established styles like blues for instance, it uses them simply as jumping off points to transcend or abruptly take them somewhere totally unexpected and original. There is frequently something delightfully fiddly and percussive going on, flamenco hand claps or a guitar loosely jangling like a bell, that gives the sound an improvisatory, yet still with a propulsive edge.
Getting Killed is not a sound nor an album that reveals all its treasures in one listen. My appreciation for how good this album could be, has only grown with each repeated listen. Because you do have to give yourself time just to tune in to the vibe of where it's coming from. But once reached, there is much to be gorged upon.

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