The rise of King Krule, aka Archy Marshall (or Zoo Kid up until a few years ago) has been a steady build that left those in awe wondering if the scrawny UK teen could reach the full potential expected by Internet blogging types. His haunting bedroom-recorded confessionals, as well as his unique image (he is a redhead afterall) matches his timid, yet confronting blend of Indie soul and blues. His first proper album, 6 Feet Beneath the Moon, is Krule’s proper studio debut. The album title seems like a grim nod to where King Krule feels he meets these high expectations. Whether or not the moon is an allusion to the demands, or simply a dooming lullaby title, “6 Feet” is an incredible effort by a young talent who craftily blends melancholy melodies with hints of blues and jazz that cradles you gently despite the bellows of anguish and despair.

The first confrontation when approaching Krule’s music are his vocals. His thick British accent and raw pronunciations are easy to mock, but it’s the internal chaos and pain that is perfectly captured by Krule’s howling roar. The album begins with “Easy Easy,” a pacing lone guitar riff accompanied by Krule’s initial croons of the conflicts faced when dealing with the burdens of expiring familiarity. There’s sort of an anticipation that keeps waiting for percussion and distortion to kick in to match the intensity of the buildup provided. But you don’t need all that noise and excess to properly experience the King, and the minimalism echoes the landscapes, heartbreak, and isolation he aches over.

The title track is dark and bleak, as you would think. But there’s the right amount of subtle uplifting from the instrumentalism itself that successfully combats Krule’s romantic misadventures. “Border Line” has an almost tropical, breezy guitar feel that could be crudely misused for a sample to a mainstream pop song. The steady drum tracks used on songs like, “Foreign 2” and “Neptune Estate” incorporate a certain jazzy hip-hop DNA in them that will leave you bobbing your head to Krule’s hopelessness. “A Lizard State” comes out of left field at the halfway point of the album, breaking out the vibrant percussion and hectic horns while Krule spits mad fire, bluntly and sarcastically cursing the “fucking fat bitch” who broke his heart.

But for every tune that suggests body movement, there’s a track simply for remaining immobile with your headphones on, indulging in Krule’s self loathing. “Baby Blue” is a beautiful ballad that you could see Dennis Hopper huffing nitrous oxide and slowly dancing to in “Blue Velvet.” “Cementality” is a textural ode to Krule’s relatable empathy to the worn out and walked over pavements and streets most pedestrians take for granted. “Out Getting Ribs,” originally released in 2010 under Krule’s then Zoo Kid moniker, is re-recorded to fit the current album’s studio production tone, and still features one of my favorite guitar riffs in the last five years.

If optimism is your preferred means of reasoning, it might be an enduring battle submerging yourself to roughly an hour of Krule’s depressing sorrow. But for those seeking an intimate invitation of relaxing gloom, then hail to the King.