Boston’s KARATE STEVE has always had a way of making heavy music feel both personal and unpretentious—songs that hit hard without posturing, thick, tight riffs that move like muscle memory.
On their third full-length “Time Under Tension,” out independently on October 24, the band stretches that balance even further, trading isolation-era writing for something born entirely in the same room. Guitarist and vocalist Ben Davis calls it “a logical next step,” explaining that while their previous record was pieced together individually during the pandemic, this one came out of full-band sessions. “It’s a more groove-oriented, cohesive sounding album without losing the quick cuts and style changes,” he says.
Recorded with Alex Allinson at The Bridge Sound & Stage and mastered by Carl Saff, the album feels rooted in that Boston lineage of sludge and metal that’s heavy on tone but heavier on thought. It moves through nine tracks that circle around themes of anxiety, mortality, urban decay, and the quiet collapse happening under the surface of daily life.
The opener “Martyr” begins in introspection rather than aggression. Davis calls it “the last song we wrote for the record, and a band favorite,” explaining, “We tend to have at least one doom ballad type of tune, and this is it. Lyrically, it’s about me trying to take accountability for my alcoholism, and how it’s affected those around me.” It’s a slow, heavy start that sets the tone for the record’s balance between self-examination and confrontation.
“Time Under Tension,” the title track, anchors the record thematically. “We chose ‘Time Under Tension’ as the title track because we feel like it thematically represents the rest of the record,” says Davis. “Lots of riffs and turnarounds, and a cool solo section. It’s a song about anxiety attacks and insomnia, which are probably relatable topics for most people, considering the current climate.”
That same push-and-pull carries into “Gentrifier,” which Davis notes was the first song written for the album. “Lyrically it addresses the never-ending wave of gentrification that is sweeping through Boston, making it impossible for artists to stay here, or play here, as the smaller venues continue to die,” he says. “Musically, it’s a pretty good representation of our bag of tricks, with the guitar harmonies, breakdowns, and crazy riffs a plenty, and it sets the tone for the rest of the record nicely.”
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“Suffer To Survive” and “Brothers” pull the focus back to mortality and memory. “Unfortunately, a recurring theme for this record is the sudden and usually horrible death of several of my friends over the past few years,” Davis admits. “This song is about my friend Andrew who died on my living room floor in the middle of a cookout.” He follows that thread in “Brothers,” saying, “Brothers is about preserving the memory of your friends and family after they die. The only way they live on is in our memories, and to some extent you can still talk to them through these memories.”
The tension turns outward again with “Dopamine.” Davis says, “The title ‘Dopamine’ is a little on the nose, but sometimes simple is better. It’s about the government distracting us with mundane shit through cell phones and social media while they quietly burn the fucking world to the ground.”
By “Third Kind Of Fucked,” the record begins to warp its perspective, taking the chaos global and absurd. “Musically, the song was written around the chord progression in its second part, transitioning organically into multiple harmony sections contributed by both guitarists,” Davis explains. “Lyrically, the song explores how poorly an American might handle the opportunity to engage with an extraterrestrial. It suggests that such an encounter would likely lead to global annihilation, a fate that feels fitting given the current state of the world.” The piece is followed by “Interlude,” which the band describes as “a dark and haunting post-earth track” featuring “some ghostwriting by record producer and engineer Alex Allinson and ghostbarking by our drummer’s dog, Mileu.”
The closer, “Sleepwalker,” ties it all back to the psychological toll that started the writing in the first place. “Sleepwalker is about coming to terms with your own mortality,” Davis says. “It’s also sort about how brutal the seasonal depression is in the northeast. You basically have 5 months of cold, dark, shitty weather. It definitely has an effect on your psyche.”
The band recently wrapped a run of shows across New York and will play Cherry St Station in Wallingford, Connecticut on October 24, the day the record drops. Physical versions are on the way, and the full album is streaming now.
