KMFDM :: ENEMY (Metropolis)

With ENEMY, KMFDM prove—42 years into their own brutalist continuum—that the beats still slam, the identity is unmissable, and while the grooves and craft hit exactly as promised, the righteous anger now lands more as familiar ritual than freshly aimed provocation.

Industrial metal as comfort food

Before you hear the first beat of that oh-so danceable, hammer-on-your-head propulsion, you’ll have already seen British artist Aidan Hughes (Brute!)—his bespoke, part-eidetic, part-Pavlovian cover-art bat signal that a KMFDM release is incoming. It’s a fair warning, especially as the band approaches what they describe as 42 years of conceptual continuity.

That brutalist graphic language isn’t just packaging—it’s part of the ritual. Maybe not a north star, but a reminder of where KMFDM are always headed: forward, loud, and unapologetically themselves. They don’t arrive quietly, and they don’t leave quietly either, having carved out a niche so recognizable it’s practically proprietary.

It’s not 1984—although, in many ways, it is 1984. KMFDM’s 24th album, ENEMY, wants to confront the moment. It’s different now, though. Their “No Sympathy for the Majority” ethos looks like it has been achieved. The world has shifted. Their positive anger is there, as always, but feels, at times, a bit mis-directed.

Musically, this album is so on point. The ultra heavy beat is intact—disciplined, physical, and insistently fun. The title track “Enemy” is a melodic missile—pads and a sweet, almost uplifting motif in the intro, then a ramp into grinding guitars with the occasional near-country twang. It’s a beautiful song. “Oubliette” gives Lucia Cifarelli room to dominate, her voice riding the punch of new guitarist Tidor Nieddu—a strong pairing, with very KMFDM riffs adding bite and motion beneath her melodic authority. The concept (a dungeon you can’t climb out of) is vivid. There is a great dub version of 1997’s “Stray Bullet 2.0,” from their Symbols album. It’s stripped down and contemplative, laying down bullets for blunts and replacing guns for an almost New Orleans horn section.

KMFDM’s predictable fury still pounds ::

Over the years, KMFDM have become a family compact (no disrespect to Selway and Nieddu): founder Sascha ‘Käpt’n K’ Konietzko and Lucia Cifarelli at the centre, and now their daughter Annabella Konietzko contributing to songwriting. Early KMFDM felt like a rogue broadcast from the margins; modern KMFDM feels like a band who’ve earned the right to be reliably themselves. There’s comfort in that—industrial metal as comfort food. Annabella’s “YOÜ” leans into relationship tension and self-definition, angsty in a way that feels lived-in rather than declarative.

ENEMY is a very good album—predictable in the best way: the grooves hit, the guitars bite, the hooks land, and the production delivers exactly what you expect from late-era KMFDM. But it’s also predictable in the one way that matters: the lyrics sometimes feel like reheated rhetoric, especially when the current era is begging for more precise targets and deeper diagnosis. Still, as a piece of craft and identity, ENEMY does what KMFDM have always done: it moves bodies, raises fists, and refuses to go quietly.

ENEMY is available on Metropolis. [Bandcamp]