This post is part of Dead Anyway Month — see all the posts here

This is a day late! I took an extra day to write it so I could fuss over it. Apologies.

I’m not sure how to categorize Kate Arnold‘s Kicking at Tombstones — in fact, I’m not even sure how to write about it. Is it a book of poetry, or is it an expanded set of liner notes for the accompanying pseudo-greatest hits album? It works as either, though I’m certain it’s more approachable if you’re somewhat familiar with Dead Anyway’s music.

I’ve never been a poetry reader; I struggle with reading it silently¹, so I have to read it out loud². It takes me several times through to find the cadence and literary devices in use³ and only then am I able to really start to try to understand what it’s saying to me⁴. So when I received Kicking at Tombstones (an unexpected gift from the author) I was a little intimidated by it! I decided to give the book a thorough read before putting on the music – to do it the other way seemed like cheating.

It’s 26 individual poems, spanning 11 music releases from the band’s first release The Receiver EP through the upcoming release Tough, Listen. The artwork from each record is included as section breaks. There’s a gritty, almost seedy tone to a lot of the work here. Dark and sinister imagery and uncomfortable metaphors are everywhere.

Most pieces here leave a fair amount of room for interpretation, and the first few pieces had me feeling like I’d bitten off more than I could chew. They’re compelling and mysterious, but I had a hard time interpreting them.

For literal-minded me, “Karma Schmarma” was the turning point — a very dark piece told from the perspective of a ruthless social climber.

Shortly after that is “Our Biology”, with raging commentary on society’s beauty standards for women.

“Pigs in Blankets” and “Crocodiles” make a fierce pair at the midpoint. The first revisits familiar themes: sexism, gender bias, violence against women — it starts in verse, and spirals into a furious rant:

And these instructions we are given how not to get raped by a policeman, right?

How about policemen get instructions how not to rape us murder us, or take photos of us when we’re dead and WhatsApp them to all their friends instead?

Don’t wear that. Stay sober. Text when you get home. Oh, on and on and on it goes. It’s the biggest ism of all time. It’s as big as the sky. It’s so big we don’t see it as we go about our daily lives remembering all the fucking birthdays, which fucking bin goes out when, check for fucking tissues in everyone’s fucking pockets and always have a stamp and always have painkillers and always have change for the fucking waitress because no one fucking else will.

“Crocodiles” (from 2023), the only piece that appears out of chronological order, is a kind of sequel to “Pigs in Blankets” (from 2021). Arnold spits acid at trolls and misogyny: “And when we call bullshit/on this bullshit/it’s because of our hormones/and not the bullshit“, and, “Oh, of course it’s not all men/It’s not all crocodiles either“.

Excellent stuff.

There are softer notes: “I Can’t Stop Counting” seems a little unhinged until the last paragraph brings it into sharp focus in a very sad moment. “Indigo” is a straight up love poem from someone who knows they can be difficult. These are rare peaceful moments in an otherwise foreboding collection.

My copy of Kicking at Tombstones is already fairly well-worn. I spent a lot of time working at and revisiting those poems. Often a line would come back to me and I’d revisit where I’d read it and get something different from the piece.

I will not claim to be unbiased — I’m a huge fan of Dead Anyway’s music, and I think Kate is a lovely human — this is a challenging, fun and often grim collection, and I love it.

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^{1 2 3 4} I imagine that’s the point! (back)

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