If you’re looking for a record that tears down the fluorescent-lit walls of your nine-to-five and replaces them with righteous fire, mournful defiance, and a thunderous wall of sound—Tyranny of the Clock by Kilravock might just be the soundtrack your inner revolutionary has been waiting for.
Released fittingly on May 1, 2025—International Workers’ Day—this 6-track EP is a charged dispatch from Omaha-based artist Steven Wayne Smith, who records and produces under the name Kilravock. Known for his sharp political edge and multi-genre experimentation, Smith builds upon the momentum of last year’s Incompatibility ][ Working Class Hero single and expands it into something more urgent, more abrasive, and undeniably more complete. Tyranny of the Clock is not just a protest—it’s a genre-hopping scream into the void of late-stage capitalism, neurotypical work culture, and the loss of solidarity in modern life.
The EP opens with “Who Killed Saint Monday?”—a fiery, propulsive track inspired by George Woodcock’s 1944 anarchist essay The Tyranny of the Clock. Smith transforms Woodcock’s critique of industrial time discipline into an angry rock anthem, laced with fuzz-drenched riffs and pounding rhythms that refuse to obey anything remotely resembling a boss’s schedule. The song feels like a punch in the gut to rigid timekeeping and a rallying cry for autonomy in an age of constant surveillance and burnout.
Then comes “Solidarity Forever,” a surprising reinterpretation of the 1912 labor anthem popularized by Pete Seeger and Utah Phillips. But rather than take the rousing folk route, Smith does what he does best—subverts expectations. His version is slow, mournful, and emotionally gut-wrenching, a dirge for the near-extinction of American labor unions. With haunting vocal harmonies from friends and collaborators, the song becomes less of a chant and more of an elegy—one that aches for a resurgence of unity, worker pride, and the collective spirit. This is protest music for a generation nursing trauma, not marching into battle—but it’s powerful all the same.
Tracks three and four—2025 mixes of “Incompatibility” and “Working Class Hero”—offer reimagined versions of Smith’s earlier single release. The polish added here enhances their impact. “Incompatibility” is a raw, jagged confessional about neurodiversity in the modern workplace—how systems of productivity are not built for everyone, and how exclusion hides behind buzzwords like “fit” and “culture.” It’s one of Smith’s most personal and pointed tracks. The remix pulls new clarity from the original’s chaos, sharpening the edges without sanding them down.
“Working Class Hero,” of course, is a John Lennon cover—reinterpreted through Kilravock’s signature blend of grit and grime. This version keeps the song’s infamous edge intact, but filters it through a post-metal atmosphere. Lennon’s quiet rage becomes something bigger here—more massive, more encompassing. It doesn’t whisper its discontent; it roars.
The final two tracks bring in voices from Smith’s other artistic personas. “Labor Day,” originally released by his post-punk group The Alliterates, adds punk urgency and dry wit to the collection. It’s sneering and anxious, a sarcastic ode to how meaningless a day off feels when your labor is undervalued year-round. The distorted guitars and propulsive drums recall early Killing Joke or Fugazi, while the lyrics pull no punches. It’s the EP’s bitter laugh—a reminder that even our holidays have been hollowed out.
Then comes the closer, “Beg For Scraps” by Lucid Fugue, Smith’s experimental side-project. This 2025 remaster delivers five minutes of sonic disintegration—feedback loops, strange synth textures, and barely intelligible vocals that feel like a broadcast from the crumbling edges of society. It’s unsettling, hypnotic, and weirdly perfect as the EP’s final note. The track doesn’t resolve—it disintegrates. Like the world it critiques, it falls apart beautifully.
Across its six tracks, Tyranny of the Clock plays like a political pamphlet wrapped in barbed wire and set to a multi-genre soundtrack. Influences abound—alt rock, progressive rock, art rock, sludge metal, post-punk, even hints of industrial and doom—but Smith stitches them together into something cohesive and unmistakably his own. It’s the kind of record that rewards close listening. There’s texture and tension in every mix, a collision of beauty and anger that’s both cathartic and deeply unsettling.
More than just a collection of songs, Tyranny of the Clock feels like a call to examine our modern relationship with time, labor, and identity. It challenges us to remember a world before punch cards and productivity apps. And maybe, just maybe, it encourages us to imagine something better—a world where we’re not just cogs, but creators, collaborators, and caretakers.
Kilravock’s EP is available on all major streaming platforms and deserves your full attention—preferably with the volume up and the to-do list in the trash. In a world run by schedules, deadlines, and unpaid overtime, Tyranny of the Clock is a musical middle finger raised high. Don’t sleep on this one—unless it’s on company time.
