These killing times (Emma Ruth Rundle)
Updated: 13 hours ago
That she is disheartened by the state of the world and, as Column McCann put it, its mad rush, comes as no surprise at all from the multi-talented American artist, Emma Ruth Rundle, known, particularly in musical circles, for her incisive and lucid analysis of life’s matters, whether intimate or more universal, and who has already released powerful albums, always defying categorization, that have undoubtedly found their audience through the honesty of her attitude, lyrics, and composition. In her new album, These Killing Times, Emma Ruth Rundle, in a sense, recharges her energy, drawing on anger to resist despair, as if caught between two opposing poles.
The opening track, “Powerless,” leaves no room for doubt with its chorus, “Power, powerless”, and its call not to give up in the face of adversity and shame: “Let me lie here with this hammer in my hand / One for breaking, one for building better.” Emma Ruth Rundle speaks of corrupt and insane political power with her haunting voice, shifting from a colorful, breathy tone over a piano, reminiscent of Tori Amos, to screeching guitars, embodying better than ever the duality that dwells within all those who yearn for a human awakening to prevent the world from sinking into chaos. The track ends with that guitar note, hoarse, taut as a thread of Ariadne for the listener, which will guide them throughout the album, like a bond, perhaps, to rally around across borders.
For here, Emma Ruth Rundle moves away from the introspection of her previous albums, embracing a more universal theme with “God’s Picture,” in which she calls on God to give humanity the strength not to destroy but to love, like a light in the night of a world reduced to ashes. This track is calmer, echoing the prayer it contains. But very quickly, “Anvil” grates on our ears; Emma Ruth Rundle’s voice swells in intensity, somewhere between a fragile cry and a rock-infused invocation, summoning behind her the rage of entire generations who have experienced and rejected the abject. In a very ’90s tone, almost grunge, she recharges our batteries. It’s folk, rock, pop: we hear echoes of PJ Harvey and Alanis Morissette, and we sense the legacy of Patti Smith’s raw, lucid poetry. And, building to a crescendo with “Catherine Wheel,” we rebuild, with the help of heavy guitars and powerful choruses, our faith in a different world, one that begins with the power to say no, no to inhumanity.
We let ourselves be carried away by the magical “Don’t Delay Heaven,” suspended as we are by the timbre of her voice, as the piano and guitar strings envelop us. It’s lyrical and beautiful, deeply personal. “Enough” follows, magnificently orchestrated. Notes rain down like a barrage, providing a counterpoint to Emma’s voice, on the verge of breaking, as she evokes for the first time in these terms those infamous “Killing Times” that gave the album its title, when suddenly the chaos of the martial drumbeat and dissonant guitars descends upon the listener, overwhelming them to the point of saturation with horror and sound, in the industrial style of Nine Inch Nails.
This track, one of the album’s lead singles, is exceptionally powerful and flows seamlessly into “Human Kindness,” without straying from the gritty edge that runs through this surprising album, a sound made possible by Emma’s many collaborators on this project, including Jess Gowrie (formerly of Chelsea Wolf) on drums and Troy Zeigler on bass, who bring that band sound to the artist and set her apart from her more solo-oriented recent releases, as well as the incredible contributions from guests such as Gina Gleason of Baroness (which helps explain that rich, gritty sound that sticks with you throughout the album), the understated Marissa Nadler and her world of light and shadow, Amelia Baker of Cinder Well, and many others. It is a telluric rage, drawn from the roots of humanity and carried up to the heavens, that Emma Ruth Rundle summons and channels, against the men who are ravaging the planet, whose cries of lamentation we hear. At over eight minutes long, this tour de force brings the album to its climax, before “Ocean of Time” brings it to a beautiful close, where Emma, Lukas Franck, and Marissa Nadler join their voices to wonder what, exactly what the world after all this might look like, the one we’d hope for, united once more, more conscious, more resilient, more human.
When These Killing Times comes to an end, an album that was among the most anticipated releases of the fall, if not of the entire year 2026, comparisons with other works seem utterly futile, for here we have a vivid portrayal of today’s chaotic, rapidly changing world, a personal blend of Munch’s The Scream and Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People, a masterful elixir of anger and willpower, the secret of which Emma Ruth Rundle alone possesses and which she has just delivered to humanity as a call to action. At a time when obscurantism of all kinds is attempting to destroy culture and reflection, our only bulwarks against nothingness, let us hope that musical works like this one will add their own brick to the barricades.
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