I was late getting to The Outer Space, sort of co-located with the Hamden Ballroom in Hamden, Connecticut, which is tucked far enough off the beaten path to seem at night to be out of purview of Yale University in nearby New Haven, but probably isn’t by day. The parking lot looked to be shared with a couple commercial or light industrial concerns, but being slightly down a hill gave it a tucked-away sensibility, and the high quality of the venue itself played into a well-kept-secret vibe. A separate bar up front and the venue proper in back with a large stage, high ceiling, pro sound, pro lights, it had a spacious feel, but wasn’t by any means empty.

I’d missed Wasted Theory, the Delaware-based Southern heavy rockers who’d played just a couple weeks ago at Vultures of Volume II in MD (review here). They’d had to go on first because, much like myself, New Hampshire’s American Burn had hit traffic coming south for the show, so it was American Burn wrapping up when I got there. From what I caught, the five-piece’s burly, Down-influenced heavy riffing seemed intact from when I caught them opening for Gozu in May (review here) — I also noted that vocalist Lee had a Gozu shirt on he acquired at that same gig, sans its original sleeves — and though I only saw a little bit of it, they seemed to get a good response from the crowd as well.

New York trio Geezer were on next, out on a weekender alongside Wasted Theory that would take them the next night to Allston, Massachusetts, where they’d meet up with Kind and Mos Generator, the latter fresh off their run with The Atomic Bitchwax. The heavy blues specialists were down drummer Chris Turco and had Charles Ruggiero filling in alongside bassist Richie Touseull and guitarist/vocalist Pat Harrington, seeming a natural fit in the group for having been a former bandmate of Harrington‘s in aughts hard rockers Slunt. This also marked my first time seeing Geezer since Touseull stepped in on bass, and fittingly, they opened with “Long Dull Knife,” the May 2015 single that was their first studio outing with him in the band.

Harrington‘s slide ever at the ready, it was impossible not to notice how molten Geezer‘s blues has become and how, without directly invoking psychedelia, the Kingston, NY, outfit have managed to bring about a laid back, earthy, jammy vibe. Liquid fuzz. I’ve been fortunate enough to see Geezer a handful of times by now, and even without Turco‘s drums, the progression they’ve made in presence and sound was evident, Harrington in an “STB Family” shirt as a finger-plucking blues frontman, his gravelly voice calling out the changes on stage and turning to the mic to inform the crowd that they’d indeed hit into the “Full Tilt Boogie.” And so they have.

Just last week, Geezer announced they’d inked a deal with the Paris-based bookers Total Volume, signaling clearly an intent to tour Europe, and watching them roll through “Ancient Song” and “Ghost Rider Solar Plexus,” both highlights of their 2014 STB Records full-length, Gage (review here), they looked and sounded ready for export, and while Ruggiero was just sitting in, he brought a sense of tension to the drums that fit well. Clearly the right person for the job, even if it’s a temp job. They finished with another jam-heavy groover (maybe new?) that was right on to the point where I didn’t even miss “Pony,” and were suitably lauded for their efforts. Because their material is so easy-rolling, it’s easy to lose sight of just how quickly they’ve come so far, but Geezer have worked deceptively fast, and so in addition to having an eye out for EU dates, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for a new album in 2016.

Homegrown riffers Curse the Son had been pushing for a release even earlier than that, but I’ve no specifics to report on when or how their follow-up to 2012’s Psychache (review here) might arrive. They’re due, though, and seeing them for the first time in more than a year — actually, last I caught both Geezer and Curse the Son individually, they were also sharing a bill, at The Eye of the Stoned Goat IV in Worcester, MA (review here); funny how that works — was all the more intriguing because, like Geezer, the Hamden-based band have also swapped out bassists, with Brendan Keefe taking the role formerly occupied by Richard “Cheech” Weeden. Much to my delight, they also had new material to share.

I was enough of a fan of Psychache‘s plus-sized fuzz riffing and spacious vibes to be palpably stoked when STB picked it up for a giving-it-its-due vinyl release (review here) last year, but I’ve been looking forward to new Curse the Son for a while, so a live taste was welcome. There were two new songs played and neither had a final title, but both took some of the roll-happy spirit of the last album and seemed to build on it with more of a sense of bounce and chug. Having Keefe wielding his low-slung bass in the band also signaled a clear change in dynamic because he had a microphone in front of him and added his backing vocals to bechapeaued guitarist Ron Vanacore‘s own (and while I’m making a theme out of frontman t-shirt choices, Vanacore had the Iommi-as-god shirt, which seems about right), giving Curse the Son‘s live performance something it didn’t previously have, but that at the same time was truer to the layering on Psychache and presumably the next record as well.

Case in point, “Spider Stole the Weed.” First, if there was any doubt Curse the Son were the hometown act, it was cast aside quickly by the audience’s familiarity with the track. Second, Vanacore got a good laugh afterward when he told the true story on which the song was based — there was a spider, it stole the weed. Third, having Keefe‘s vocals added only highlighted the hook even further on stage, and it made me hope they’ve continued to explore the two-singer approach in the studio, at least on some cursory level. Not that he and Vanacore need to be harmonizing necessarily — though they came close once or twice — but just continuing to refine their sound and make it a richer listening experience on the whole. Weedian Psychache opener “Goodbye Henry Anslinger” was similarly enhanced.

They had another, quicker new one worked in, drummer Michael Petrucci (also Lord Fowl, etc.) adding snare flourish during the builds and finding tension in each fill, and closed out with “Pulsotar Bringer” from 2011’s debut LP, Klonopain (review here), the full-on nod brought to its natural boiling point, and the point underscored that, like Geezer, Curse the Son have taken significant steps forward since their first album. As they move ahead with the lineup of Vanacore, Petrucci and Keefe, I’ll still look forward to what comes next, whenever it happens to show up, be it in 2015 or the New Year.

More pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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Somehow, this one felt like it was for all the marbles. Over the course of the six nights prior, I’d been to three shows — Clutch (review here), Ufomammut (review here) and Conan (review here) — and with the addition of this one, it would be four shows in three different states. I don’t mind telling you I was dragging ass after driving from Brooklyn to Connecticut after the Conan show the night before, and tacking a drive home to Massachusetts onto that and then another 90 minutes north to Manchester, New Hampshire’s The Shaskeen Pub had some pretty stiff competition from, well, the couch, but ultimately the “gotta go” impulse won out. It had been an obscenely long time since I last caught Gozu — one full year and three days, to be exact — and I was likewise eager to check out newcomers Shatner, who feature two-thirds of We’re all Gonna Die in their lineup, as if the moniker wasn’t enough of a sell.

Put together with New Hampshire’s own Thunderhawk and American Burn, it was a four-band Saturday at the Shaskeen that easily warranted attendance. My first time at the Irish-style pub, I found it inviting for more than its lack of a cover charge. Bands played on a stage in the back room, which had its own bar for those inclined to imbibe — there were plenty of them around — and stools strewn about the place even aside from a dedicated merch area. Up front played hits from the ’90s and I guess in the back it was the metal version of the same idea, with your Panteras, Sepulturas, Megadeths, and so on. It was after 9:30 when the show got going, so I knew it would be a late one, but screw it. This was the final stage of my week-long blowout before starting a new job after Memorial Day, and if you can’t get up for that, you might as well already be at the office in your business casual.

Here’s how it went down:

Shatner

My first time seeing the Boston trio felt overdue, though as guitarist/vocalist Jim Healey pointed out from the stage, it was only their third show, so I guess not that overdue. It will be a sad day for Beantown heavy rock and roll if Healey ever loses that chip on his shoulder — the aggressive edge he brings to his songwriting and delivery is a typifying staple of the city’s specific style. He and bassist/backing vocalist Jesse Sherman are veterans of We’re all Gonna Die, but Shatner are less metal on the whole, such that when they broke into a cover of Thin Lizzy‘s “Bad Reputation” amid a slew of yet-unfamiliar originals — their first recording session took place this past Feb. at Amps vs. Ohms in Cambridge, but the results have yet to hit public ears — the transition was natural and unforced. Their time was relatively brief and the set offered some symmetry in opening with “Dead in Your Eyes” and closing with “Death Reheated,” perhaps working on a theme, but the latter made a particularly resonant impression, Healey out front in a catchy, building chorus propelled forward by Cocked ‘n’ Loaded drummer Rob Davol. They’re experienced players searching out a new dynamic, but the songwriting seemed to be there, and the first impression was a positive one. I’m sure it won’t be the last time I see them and that’s completely cool by me.

American Burn

I was surprised to find out that American Burn, who seemed to be no strangers to The Shaskeen, had only formed in 2013. They’ve obviously made an impression in that time with their dudely dual-guitar groove, rooted in metal but grown to border on heavy rock — the transition in influence from Pantera to Down, if you want to trace it so specifically. Not really my thing, but they were tighter than their two years would lead one to believe, and they absolutely packed the room out with the biggest crowd of the night. I didn’t do a head count, but if you told me it was upwards of 100 people, I wouldn’t argue. There was barely space to move in that back room while they played, and those who came out not only showed up, but were legitimately into it, singing along, headbanging and so on. Credit to the locals for filling the place up. I don’t know how much touring they’ll do or how they’d pull outside Manchester at this point, but seems safe to say they’ve got their hometown conquered, or at least they did this night.

Thunderhawk

Also native to Manchester, double-guitar four-piece Thunderhawk (also stylized with a capitalized second ‘h’) released their Do or Die debut full-length last October. Their style was less metal than American Burn‘s, more Easy Rider than Sons of Anarchy, and laced with a solid dose of modern stoner push, like The Sword if they’d binged on Motörhead or, if you prefer, High on Fire at their most rolling. Lead guitarist Logan Larocque was a quiet presence on the right side of the stage compared to guitarist/vocalist Bryan McCarthy, bassist/vocalist Christopher Shelton and drummer Jon Kirsch, but seemed content to let his leads to the talking, and that turned out to be fair enough. Shelton and McCarthy, the latter in an American flag t-shirt with the slogan “the best things in life are free,” kicked out weighted groove with punker’s abandon, and for a bonus round a the end of their set, they brought up Ichabod vocalist John Fadden — apparently local to the area — for a cover of Black Sabbath‘s “War Pigs.” It seemed they’d done it before, but either way, it was a bit of fun for the crowd to sing-along to (myself included), and did well to show Thunderhawk could both nail their own material while fostering swinging grooves and let loose and have a good time. I knew nothing about them going into the performance and came out on the other side feeling like I needed to check out that album.

Gozu

Like I said, it had simply been too damn long since the last time I saw Gozu. The four-piece would be playing New Hampshire two weekends in a row, and the next week doing a tribute to Scissorfight on the occasion of Smuttynose Brewing‘s beer in homage to the Granite State Destroyers. That would’ve been cool to see, but even more than that, I was hoping to catch Gozu — the now-solidified lineup of guitarist/vocalist Marc Gaffney, guitarist/backing vocalist Doug Sherman, bassist Joe Grotto and drummer Mike Hubbard — playing something new, and along with the familiar swagger of “Disco Related Injury,” the thrust of “Meat Charger” and the mega-hook in “Ghost Wipe,” the band threw in two recent pieces. Titled “Bubble Time” and “Lorenzo Lamas” in their tradition of putting silly names onto killer tracks, both had a somewhat moodier vibe than, say, “Mr. Riddle” or the aforementioned “Ghost Wipe” — however grim the lyrical themes of either of those might be — but being the first to emerge from this incarnation of the band and more directly this rhythm section, they fit well in the set along with some of the faster, older songs. I know better than to try to suppose anything about the next Gozu record after one airing of two songs live, but nothing I heard sounded like a step backward. Informed they had 10 minutes left, they kicked into the eight-minute “Alone,” its peaks and valleys executed without any rush whatsoever, and then snuck in “Bald Bull” right after, giving the night a more raucous sendoff. How I let it go quite so long from one gig to the next, I’m not really sure, but as they continue to put ideas together for their next record, I’ll have my eye out to catch them again sooner than later. Maybe not this weekend, but soon.

—

I guess the Shaskeen had come pretty close to curfew by the time Gozu were done, because the lights came on quickly and those still hanging around were told in no uncertain terms to finish drinks, close tabs and get out. Fair enough. The ride back down south on I-93 was uneventful enough if one didn’t mind avoiding swerving drivers who’d started their holiday early, and I got home a couple minutes before 3AM, same as the night before, carried largely by the adrenaline at having pulled off this monumental week of travel and shows. I’d have called it a mini-tour if there were maybe one or two other gigs involved, but there was enough road-time even without, and I’m glad to say that in this case as in the others, it was well worth getting there and getting back.

More pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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