Posted in audiObelisk on November 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Canadian atmospheric doom mostly-solo outfit Uncle Woe will offer a new EP, Well, on Dec. 20. The four-track outing — which is arguably album-length at 32 minutes — is an offshoot of what had originally been an LP to be released earlier this year titled Oblivion and Further Disaster. As founding multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Rain Fice — working with Melbourne, Australia-based drummer Marc Whitworth — tells it below, EP tracks “Well” and “The Many Comforts of Calamity” both also appear on that record, and there was simply more to say.
Fair enough. The textural instrumental “Sermons for the Electrical Lost” complements the long and ambient ending of “The Many Comforts of Calamity,” and as the four inclusions run shortest to longest, the 16:08 “Oblivion and Further Disaster” feels duly like an arrival point as the closer. The highlight, though, might be “Well” itself, which finds Fice layering some subtly intricate melody in the chorus, soulful as ever, the sound still drawing from the cosmic doom of YOB a bit, but never more its own in its reach or affect. Uncle Woe‘s last two full-lengths, 2022’s Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe (review here) and 2020’s Phantomescence (review here), worked toward similar ends, but “Sermons for the Electrical Lost” feels more willing to dwell in its drone even with some kind of percussion or other captured rhythmic noise in amidst the layers of guitar noise, maybe-synth, effects, and so on as the wash builds and recedes across the six minutes.
A sense of departure from “Well” and “The Many Comforts of Calamity,” which are both on the will-still-be-out-but-next-year Oblivion and Further Disaster, to “Sermons for the Electrical Lost” and “Oblivion and Further Disaster” — which are not on the LP — almost can’t be helped, but the grounding of the choruses to “Well” and “The Many Comforts of Calamity,” even as far out and echoing as they are, puts the listener in good position to take on the back half of the tracklisting. “The Many Comforts of Calamity” turns left into an airy solo over churning post-metal chug before looping back to the hook at about three minutes in, a lumber and guttural melodicism reminiscent of Beastwars but present in its craft enough for “The Many Comforts of Calamity” to serve as the transition between “Well” and the two songs built off it that became the impetus for this release.
The long fade at the end of “The Many Comforts of Calamity” is hypnotic en route to the sweeping entrance of “Sermons for the Electrical Lost,” and the intention holds firm as Fice explores the ebbs and flows of frequency layering and mashing different sounds together, kind of like they do with particles at the Large Hadron Collider — only much, much, much slower. Mournful plod marks the outset of “Oblivion and Further Disaster,” a not-there title-track for the next Uncle Woe record — anyone remember that time Blind Melon didn’t put “Soup” on Soup and it was like the best song they ever did? — and the meditative feel and downward trajectory of the first couple minutes give over to more intense battery and a harsher, heavier verse. Over the next 10-plus minutes, Uncle Woe carry “Oblivion and Further Disaster” across a multi-movement course, dropping nearly to silence after the early payoff and beginning the march toward the EP’s suitably consuming end.
And I won’t discount the journey to get there, but while raw in the recording aesthetic, when Fice rears back after the 10-minute mark and the song begins its lurching crescendo in earnest, then finds another level of impact entirely and seems to expand until 11:46 when it drops to standalone guitar and residual drone, like the bubble just popped. Some stately, doomier riffing, a light Danny Elfman influence maybe, atmospheric vocals seeming to be swallowed by the procession as it makes its way out, the last couple minutes mostly silent as if purposefully taking the time.
Whatever the actual percentage breakdown might be — it’s imaginary, so it doesn’t matter — a goodly portion of Uncle Woe‘s impression has always been based around mood, and that remains true for Well, but it’s worth emphasizing the crush that’s so vital here and how it feeds into this material’s breadth, even in ways one might not necessarily expect. Plenty of songs crush. Far fewer sound like they’re crushing the sky.
Please enjoy:
Uncle Woe, “Well” visualizer premiere
Uncle Woe – Well
EP / Lead Single from the album, Oblivion and Further Disaster
Written by Rain Fice. Performed and recorded by Rain Fice and Marc Whitworth, in Bancroft, Ontario, Canada, and Melbourne, Victoria, Australia, respectively. Release date: December 20, 2023 Label(s): Owlripper Recordings (DL), Packard Black Productions (LP)
“Well” was the easy first choice for a lead single once production of our forthcoming full-length, Oblivion and Further Disaster, started winding down. It exemplifies not only a lot of what Uncle Woe does, with its churning and revolving rhythms, and tendency to straddle the depth of pummeling molasses chug work, and vivid dream state floating (without falling hard into either extreme), but also the vibe of the whole album. It’s a bit more dialled in and dire than some of our previous works; more up front, and less meandering.
Once we’d chosen Well for the lead and the similarly straightforward album track, The Many Comforts of Calamity, as its B-side, something clicked and said that there was a bit more to the journey. It felt like there was just a little left in the story that the album hadn’t told so far.
Almost overnight the 5:00 single and matching B-side spawned another 22:00 of exploration, rounding what could have been a simple single up a bit, into a true, old fashioned EP; an Extended Play Single, as it may be referred to by the hippest of today’s youth.
The 3rd and 4th songs are the new material that fell out just for this little record. Sermons for the Electrical Lost is a six minute bit of post-rock contemplation. A Squall of feedback, some sombre clean guitar parts, and a grand, pulsing crescendo, all drenched in glorious bowed lap steel.
The sprawling, Oblivion and Further Disaster (which is not on the album of the same name) is sixteen plus minutes of pure post metal expression. Slow motion chord progressions, chaos, chugging and screaming, protracted, reverb drenched soft bits, several crescendos, and a long farewell. This is Uncle Woe in true form.
“Well” proved to be a gateway into its own little world within the world of the album. A music side-quest; this time with maybe a little bit of that aforementioned propensity for meandering, foregone on the LP itself.
This single/ep makes for a great counterpoint piece to the actual album. Also, it’s only a few minutes shy of being an album on its own.
Tracklisting: 1. Well (4:55) 2. The Many Comforts of Calamity (5:20) 3. Sermons for the Electrical Lost (6:16) 4. Oblivion and Further Disaster (16:08)
[Click play above to stream Uncle Woe’s Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe in full. Album is out March 18 with vinyl through Red Spade Records.]
It has not yet been two full years since Bancroft, Ontario-based mostly-solo-project Uncle Woe — aka Rain Fice — released their second full-length, Phantomescence (review here). Not even close, actually. But preceding the cumbersomely-and-perhaps-cheekily-titled Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe have been a spate of short releases, from Seasick & Old Friends and the three-song Don’t Look Down EP in early 2021 to “Nine Kinds of Time” being posted in Sept. to advance the album. It was also less than a full year between Uncle Woe‘s debut, Our Unworn Limbs (review here), and Phantomescence. What one might extrapolate from the relatively quick turnarounds to-date is a certain kind of creative and expressive urgency, and the emotionalism with which Fice executes the willfully unmanageable seven tracks/70 minutes of Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxereinforces that as well. From “We Plant the Seeds for Things We Know Will Never Grow” (12:34) at the outset through the bookending extended closer “Wax” (17:58), and the many cascades, builds, washes, chugs, experiments and spaces left open in between, the abiding sensibility is that this was a record Fice needed to make.
As one might expect, Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe answers the accomplishments of past Uncle Woe albums fluidly. “We Plant…” begins almost in medias res and digs itself into an atmosphere raw in the way of YOB‘s Atma, declaring itself more earthy than cosmic but touching ethereal ambience just the same as a midsection stretch of ambience buries the rumblefuzz bassline and drums, finds synth mixed in with guitar scratch and other noises, maybe some tapping on glass, before a sudden build shifts back into the full-tone march. Departures such as this are common throughout Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe in songs like the centerpiece “Merriment Abounds” (6:55) — another ironic title — the second track “Lavignia Falls” (7:20), on which Fice seems to reference Ancestors‘ glorious “First Light” in his blend of subdued lead guitar and organ, “Nine Kinds of Time” (8:04), the penultimate “Seasick” (8:49) and “Wax,” but despite the structural similarities that might persist, where Fice takes these breaks changes in terms of timing, arrangements, general purpose, and so on. With so much ground to cover from the outset as “We Plant…” devolves, marching in morose, almost staccato chugging fashion into its final wash of synth before giving way suddenly to the more subdued but still pervasively depressive beginning of “Lavignia Falls,” one could not accuse Fice of misusing the double-LP time he takes.
Fice‘s voice and malleable approach has never sounded more like a signature element than it does here, and while much of the scope and general atmosphere of these songs will be familiar to those who took in Phantomescence or Our Unworn Limbs — that is to say, he’s not doing anything so radically different — the level of growth showcased in the material belies the amount of time from one full-length to the next. “Lavignia Falls,” as well as that highlight stretch of guitar, finds Fice using vocals as a signal coming out of the intentionally-droning verse that the chorus is about to return, while the subsequent “Pretend I’m Dead” (9:05) — which would seem to have earlier origins and a co-arrangement by Josh Bruzzese — explores a deeper melodic purpose as it approaches its midsection as a setup for its later lumbering. It is willing to soar in a way that feels new, but Uncle Woe has been clever all along about blending melodic and harsh sides of the project’s persona, moving between echoing shouts calling out over the void and introspective, cleaner layering. Likewise, “Merriment Abounds,” which is the only inclusion under seven minutes long — hit single! — brings a subtle lushness to Fice‘s voice ahead of feedback and shouts announcing a resurgent riff to come, not quite full-on psychedelic but rife with greens and browns like a forest floor. Merriment, if it needs to be said, does not necessarily abound, but the turns and twists Fice brings throughout Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe offer a satisfying glimpse of the dynamic that’s developed in Uncle Woe, again, in relatively little actual time.
Hearing “Seasick,” which, like “Lavignia Falls,” was previously released, it’s hard not to wonder if the song was perhaps named for its grueling undulations of riff. So far in this review, the word “chug” has been used twice, and it could be used more, but the interplay of tension and release that comes therefrom is a palpable asset in Uncle Woe‘s favor. Once he digs in, Fice offers fleeting moments of relent — ambient middle parts, quiet ends and beginnings, etc. — and there is more happening even at the heaviest peaks of Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe than sheer assault. With bass tuned to ‘prehistoric’ and maybe-programmed drums, Fice answers the sludge-math at the ending of “Nine Kinds of Time” in “Seasick,” shifting from its delve into crooning vocals and grounded psych to weighted riffing that, indeed, might turn the stomach. Time signatures are deceptively tweaked and like the breadth of the album as a whole, are put to use in serving the song rather than acting as a demonstration of technicality or some such. Fice‘s goal here is immersion of his audience in this particular headspace, which can feel jumbled and disconnected at times but is ultimately under control in terms of its execution. Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe is not intended to be an easy ride, and it isn’t, but as Fice engages with his chief influences, the experimentation happening with synth and guitar effects, his increased vocal confidence and reach, and the overarching flow of the record as a whole make it worth reiterating the progression of Uncle Woe as a band.
Then comes “Wax” — as in, ‘the whole ball of.’ At just under 18 minutes, it’s the longest individual piece Fice has yet released for Uncle Woe, and it has a patience of approach that, after the relative intensity of “Nine Kinds of Time” and “Seasick” feels well-placed at the end of the album. Shades again of YOB in how the guitar reaches out from a drone at the start, begins to unfurl the procession of the track, joined by organ as it sets up the first verse that arrives around the three-minute mark and its harmonized, souful vocals. A build stops before the roaring takes hold, lower growling answering back to the apex of “We Plant…” without repeating it entirely, as the song sets about exploring the space it has made. It becomes more massive as it goes, until at last the fervency of the chug results in crashing, muted bursts of distortion and growl-laced cosmic doom. At about 13:20, the early guitar figure reemerges and makes ready to carry the song to its finish, but Fice still has more graceful layering to do in that process, bringing in what sounds like Mellotron to add to the resonant emotionalism of that last wash, which fades out in such a way as to make one think the track is holding on even though it knows it’s already over. Appropriately, the fact that Icarus’ wings were made of wax comes to mind.
The sense of motion Fice conjures across Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe isn’t to be understated. Through long fades, ambient breaks, quiet parts and no shortage of crush and crunch, a consuming feeling of movement is a uniting factor no less than Fice‘s tones or vocals themselves, and even as “Wax” is brought down to its and the album’s conclusion, that remains. It is further manifestation, maybe, of the urgency behind Uncle Woe‘s work to-date in the first place; a restlessness that is in and of the songs that finds them building and crashing down and building again, defeated and triumphant in a dynamic that is only bolstered by the accompanying atmosphere and mood. As the third LP from the band, Pennyfold Haberdashery & Abattoir Deluxe is focused and signals the ongoing evolution of Uncle Woe as an outfit, and feels more like a forward step in a series thereof than an arrival. In other words, one expects that movement and sonic progression to continue unabated.
Posted in Features on December 31st, 2020 by JJ Koczan
[PLEASE NOTE: These are not the results of the year-end poll, which is ongoing. If you haven’t contributed your list to the cause yet, please do so here.]
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Invariably, the ultimate measure of 2020 will be in lives and livelihoods lost around the world. I have nothing to add to the discourse of the COVID-19 pandemic that others haven’t said in more articulate and precise language. Suffice it to note that 2020 was the year that the very concept of “unprecedented” itself became trite.
One does not have to look far to find positives amid the devastation. Creativity continues to flourish. Art cannot be killed. Even locked away from each other in quarantine, artists will continue to reach out, to collaborate, to fulfill the human need for expression that has driven the species since cave drawings and will no doubt be the ruins we leave behind us when we’re gone.
In underground music, it was simply overwhelming. And though I’ll admit it was hard at times to listen to music and divorce it from the larger context of what was happening in the world — it was there like a background buzz — this year reinforced how necessary music is, not only as an escape or a source of income for those who make/promote it, but as an integral component of life and community. Absences have been keenly felt.
I won’t try to sate you with platitudes, to say “things will get better.” Maybe they will, maybe they won’t. One year turning to the next does not fix broken systems and it does not cure raging plagues. It’s just a number. Arbitrary except as a convenient marker for things like this, births, deaths, and so on. Bookkeeping.
Before I turn you over to the lists: Please be kind in the comments if you choose to leave one. To me. To other people. To yourself. These lists are culled from my listening preference and what I consider of critical importance. But I’m one person. If there’s something you feel has been left out, say so. I ask you only to do so in a spirit of friendship rather than argument. Thank you in advance.
50. Sun Crow, Quest for Oblivion
49. Atramentus, Stygian
48. Arcadian Child, Protopsycho
47. Fuzz, III
46. Jointhugger, I Am No One
45. Dirt Woman, The Glass Cliff
44. Switchblade Jesus, Death Hymns
43. Foot, The Balance of Nature Shifted
42. Hymn, Breach Us
41. IAH, III
40. Lord Fowl, Glorious Babylon
39. Acid Mess, Sangre de Otros Mundos
38. 1000mods, Youth of Dissent
37. Deathwhite, Grave Image
36. Soldati, Doom Nacional
35. Cortez, Sell the Future
34. Kadavar, The Isolation Tapes
33. Black Rainbows, Cosmic Ritual Supertrip
32. Shadow Witch, Under the Shadow of a Witch
31. Insect Ark, The Vanishing
Notes: To say nothing of the honorable mentions that follow the rest of the list below, immediately we see the problem of so-many-albums-not-enough-space. People talk about a top 50 as ridiculous, like there’s no way you can like that much music. Bullshit. I agonized over how to fit Sun Crow on this list because their Quest for Oblivion felt like it deserved to be here. Ditto that for Arcadian Child. And the achievements of bands like Kadavar, 1000mods and Switchblade Jesus and Insect Ark in breaking the boundaries of their own aesthetics deserve every accolade they can get, and likewise those who progressed in their sound like Cortez, Shadow Witch, Lord Fowl, Hymn, Foot, Black Rainbows, Deathwhite and IAH. Add to that the debuts from Atramentus, Dirt Woman, Jointhugger, Acid Mess and Sergio Ch.’s Soldati, and you’ve got a batch of 20 records — some born of this year’s malaise, some working in spite of it — that vary in sound but are working to push their respective styles to new places one way or the other.
There was no shortage of anticipation for what L.A. cultists High Priestess would do to follow their 2018 self-titled debut (review here), and the three-piece did not disappoint, instead gave a ritual mass that included the 17-minute concept piece “Invocation” alongside infectious and ethereal melodies like “The Hourglass.” And now that the circle’s been cast? Seems like they can do anything.
High-powered cosmic metal from Finland pulling apart heavy psychedelia on an atomic level with an urgency that speaks of youth, progress and an ingrained need for exploration? Sign me up. A lot of bands on this list put out their first album this year. There are few for whom my hopes are as high as they are for Polymoon. If you haven’t yet heard Caterpillars of Creation, do.
Of the sundry horrors 2020 wrought, a new album from long-running Toronto three-piece Sons of Otis was an unexpected positive, and their ultra-spaced, murky riffs on their first studio album since 2012’s Seismic (review here, also here) launched like a slow-motion escape pod of righteous doom (s)tonality. There will never be another Sons of Otis. Be thankful for everything you get from them.
Organ, Mellotron, sitar, acoustic and electric guitars, various percussion elements, and of course the inimitable fragility in Craig Williamson‘s voice itself — the ingredients for Lamp of the Universe‘s Dead Shrine were familiar enough for those familiar with the one-man outfit running more than two decades, but the lush acid folk created remains a standout the world over. Dead Shrine was a much-needed gift of peace and meditation.
The debut album from Colorado’s BleakHeart collected pieces united by melody and overarching atmosphere, positioned stylistically somewhere around heavygaze or heavy post-rock, but feeling less limited to genre bounds than some others working in a similar sphere. As a first outing, it brought a promise of things to come even as the depths of its mix seemed to swallow the listener entirely, equal parts serving claustrophobia and escapism.
There is not enough space here to properly commend Pale Divine founding guitarist/vocalist Greg Diener on how much he opened up the band by bringing in his and drummer Darin McCloskey‘s former Beelzefuzz bandmate Dana Ortt on shared guitar, vocal and songwriting duties. Completed by Ron “Fezz” McGinnis on bass/vocals, Pale Divine are a refreshed and ready powerhouse of American traditional doom.
One is going to have to get used to the idea of Uncle Woe residing in the places between, I think. An inward-looking cosmic doom that’s likewise morose and reaching, opaque and translucent, Phantomescence could be almost troubling in its feeling of off-kilter expression. Yet that’s exactly what multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Rain Fice was going for. Thriving on contradiction, exploratory, and individualized. Start from doom, move outward.
I don’t feel like I’m cool enough to offer any substantive comment on what Chicago’s REZN do, but their sax-laced heavy psychedelia comes across warm and is invitingly languid while still delivered with a sense of energy and purpose. It rolls and you want to roll with it, so you do. They were clearly hurt by not being able to tour this year, as were audiences for not seeing them. Call them neo-stoner metal or whatever you want, these songs deserve to be played live.
A revamped lineup for South African desert-ish heavy rockers Ruff Majik brought producer Evert Snyman in as co-conspirator with frontman/principal songwriter Johni Holiday, and found the former trio working as a five-piece with a broader sound underscored by an electric sense of purpose and willingness to push themselves to places they hadn’t gone before. Their third record, it seemed as well to be a new beginning, and they met the challenge head-on.
The underheralded children of rolling fuzz riffage, Connecticut’s Curse the Son found new depths of emotion to bring to Excruciation — and I do mean “depths.” Dark times for dark times. Fueled by personal hardship, turmoil, motorcycle accidents and a pervasive sense of struggle, the LP was nonetheless a triumph of their songwriting and brought new melodic character to their established largesse of tone. Your loss if you missed it.
Business as usual in ferocious heavy/speed rock from The Atomic Bitchwax on Scorpio — and that was only reassuring since the band’s eighth full-length marked the first since the departure of guitarist/vocalist Finn Ryan and his replacing with Garrett Sweeny, a bandmate of founding bassist/vocalist Chris Kosnik and drummer Bob Pantella in Monster Magnet. They barely stopped to cool their heels and yet still managed to be catchy as hell. How do they do it? Jersey Magic.
Such pervasive melancholy could only be derived from Irish folk, and so it was on Cinder Well‘s No Summer, which managed to move between singer-songwriter minimalism from Amelia Baker and arrangements of deceptive and purposeful intricacy. Wherever it went, from traditional songs “Wandering Boy” and “The Cuckoo” to originals like “Fallen” and the nine-minute “Our Lady’s,” it was equal parts gorgeous and sad and resonant. It remains so, despite the fleeting season.
Their fourth album and first since crossing the decade-mark since their inception, Pallbearer‘s Forgotten Days wasn’t just heavy, emotional or big-sounding; it was the most their-own of anything they’ve done. It felt exactly like the record they wanted it to be, and reconfirmed that the generation of listeners being introduced to doom by their music is going to be just fine if they follow the cues laid out for them here.
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17. Slift, Ummon
Released by Stolen Body and Vicious Circle Records. Reviewed March 26.
Less a reinvention of space rock than a kick in its ass, Slift‘s Ummon pushed well past the line of manageability at 72 minutes and reveled in that. The French outfit were greeted as liberators when they released the album, and with the way the respect has been maintained in the months since they’ve given themselves a high standard to meet, but there’s only promise to be heard as you get lost in the nebular wash of this sprawling 2LP. They’ll have two more records out before this one’s fully digested.
The first album in half a decade from long-established UK death-doom forebears My Dying Bride found vocalist Aaron Stainthorpe coping with his daughter’s cancer diagnosis and translating that into the morose poetry for which the band is so well known and with which they’ve been so influential. My Dying Bride has never wanted for sincerity, but to call them affecting here would be underselling the quality of their craft and the heart they put into it. Follow-up EP is already out with extra non-album tracks.
Denmark’s Causa Sui may be on a mission to unite jazz and heavy psychedelia — and blessings on them for that — but the mellow jammy vibes they conjured on Szabodelico only emphasized how much it’s the character of what they do and the chemistry they’ve brought as bandmates that has allowed them to branch thusly in terms of aesthetic. It was the kind of album you wanted to put on again even before it was over, and its sweet instrumentals felt born to a greater timeline than a single year can encompass.
I’m not a punk rocker, but All Souls make me wish I was. Their emotive and engaged heavy rock looks out as much as in on Songs for the End of the World — their second LP behind a 2018 self-titled debut (review here) — but it’s undeniably punk in its foundation, and what the four-piece of Antonio Aguilar and Meg Castellanos (both ex-Totimoshi), Erik Trammell (Black Elk) and Tony Tornay (Fatso Jetson) have put together builds on that in exciting, inventive and individualized ways, while staying nonetheless true to its roots.
Five years after their debut album, Rocket Science (review here), Boston four-piece Kind return with Mental Nudge. And despite the different situations in which it finds the band’s members — bassist Tom Corino is now ex-Rozamov, drummer Matt Couto now ex-Elder — the group’s focus remains on carving memorable, mostly structured tracks out of ethereal heavy psychedelia, guitarist Darryl Shepard (Milligram, etc.) and vocalist Craig Riggs (Roadsaw, Sasquatch, etc.) adding space and melody to the crunching, driving grooves.
Founded by vocalist Farida Lemouchi (ex-The Devil’s Blood) and guitarist Oeds Beydals (ex-Death Alley, also ex-The Devil’s Blood) and commissioned as a project for Roadburn Festival 2019 (review here), Molassess are inextricably tied to Lemouchi‘s groundbreaking former outfit and its tragic ending, but the musical branching out into darkened progressive textures on Through the Hollow isn’t to be understated. It was an album that pushed past the past, not overlooking it, but finding new ways of moving forward in life and sound.
While of course the Mos Generator frontman is no stranger to writing or recording on his own, Funeral Suit was Tony Reed‘s debut as a solo artist and it carried his progressive stamp in melody and arrangement. It was not just a guitarist playing acoustic instead of electric, and it was not a manifestation of self-indulgence. Whether it was reworking a Mos Generator song like “Lonely One Kenobi” or pursuing a new piece like the title-track or “Waterbirth,” Reed found balance between personal and audience, evoking traditional songsmithing even as he reminded listeners of his dual role as a producer.
Spectacular showing from Kingston kingpins Geezer with Groovy as their first offering for Heavy Psych Sounds. Led by guitarist/vocalist Pat Harrington, the three-piece brought material that flowed with the organic feel of jams despite being structured and catchy songs. In pieces like “Dead Soul Scroll” and “Drowning on Empty,” they melded stonerized groove with what felt like genuine emotional expression, and “Dig” and “Groovy” still managed to be a heavy fuzz-blues party. And they still had room at the end to jam out on “Slide Mountain” and “Black Owl.” It was nothing but a win, rising to the occasion on every level.
So Bob Balch from Fu Manchu and Gary Arce from Yawning Man have a band. They get Tony Reed from Mos Generator on board. Mario Lalli from Yawning Man/Fatso Jetson comes and goes. Nick Oliveri comes and goes. Bill Stinson from Yawning Man plays drums. Alain Johannes sits in on vocals. Reed does a bunch of vocals; his kid does a track too. Per Wiberg from Spiritual Beggars, Opeth, Candlemass, etc., lends some keys. What do you call such a thing? Who cares? You call yourself lucky it exists. They called the record Vision Beyond Horizon. Can’t wait to find out what they call the next one.
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8. Elder, Omens
Released by Armageddon Shop and Stickman Records. Reviewed April 27.
Omens marked a new beginning for Elder as the band pushed deeper into the realm of progressive rock and beyond their weightier beginnings. The arrival of Georg Edert (also Gaffa Ghandi) on drums in place of Matt Couto shifted the band’s dynamic in a number of ways, providing not a swinging anchor for the rhythm section necessarily, but another avenue of prog fluidity. Bassist Jack Donovan brought a steady presence in the low end as guitarist/vocalist Nick DiSalvo and guitarist/keyboardist Mike Risberg embarked on new melodic explorations while staying loyal to the band’s established penchant for sweeping changes. Omens may live up to its name as a sign of things to come, but either way, it was a strong display of the band’s will to pursue new ideas and methods.
First words that come to mind here: “eminently listenable.” With seven tracks and 36 minutes, Reverie may not have taken up much of your afternoon… once. But by the time you gave it its proper respect and listened through three times in a row, the situation was somewhat different. The Lafayette, Louisiana, four-piece gracefully brought together structured songwriting with proggier leanings and were able to bring together rampaging hooks like “Trace the Omen” and “Manifest,” casting a sense of sonic hugeness without forgetting to add either melody or personality along with that. The band — who here welcomed bassist Thorn Letulle alongside guitarist/vocalist James Marshall, guitarist Shadi Omar Al-Khansa and drummer Thomas Colley — have worked quickly and evolved with a sense of urgency. Is Reverie the goal or another step on that path?
Vocalist/cellist Jackie Perez Gratz (interview here), guitarist Max Doyle and drummer Zack Farwell comprise Grayceon, and with their fifth record, the band looks around thematically at environmental devastation through the lens of record-breaking California wildfires from their vantage point in the Bay Area. Even as the world shifted priorities (at least most of it did) to yet another global crisis in the COVID-19 pandemic, genre-melting-pot songs like “Diablo Wind,” “The Lucky Ones,” and “This Bed” reminded of the horrors humanity has wrought on its battered home, and still managed to find hope and serenity in “And Shine On” and “Rock Steady,” a closing duo that shifted to a more personal discussion of family and one’s hope for a better future for and by the next generation. 2020 had plenty of horror. At least we got a new Grayceon record out of it.
When Sho’Nuff asked Bruce Leroy “who’s the master?,” dude should’ve said Brant Bjork. It would’ve been a confusing end to Berry Gordy’s The Last Dragon, but ultimately more accurate, as Brant Bjork‘s homegrown kung fu was unfuckwithable as ever on the album that shares his name. After two decades of solo releases in one form or another, Bjork is not just a pivotal figurehead for desert rock, he’s a defining presence, as well as one of its most treasured practitioners. Brant Bjork, the album, brought initial waves of funk in “Jungle in the Sound,” explored weedy worship in “Mary (You’re Such a Lady)” and toyed with religious dogma in offsetting that with “Jesus Was a Bluesman” while still tossing primo hooks in “Duke of Dynamite” and “Shitkickin’ Now” ahead of the more open “Stardust and Diamond Eyes” and the acoustic closer “Been So Long.” With Bjork recording all the instruments himself, a due feeling of intimacy resulted, and yet he still found a way to make it rock. How could it be otherwise?
Why do I feel the immediate need to defend this pick? I’m not sure. Norway’s Enslaved are an institution, not just of black metal, but of bringing an ideology of creative growth to that style that often willfully resists it. They are iconoclastic even unto their own work. Utgard was released as the band stood on the precipice of 30 years together and yet it stood as their most forward-looking offering yet, as co-founders Grutle Kjellson (bass/vocals) and Ivar Bjørnson (guitar/sometimes vocals), as well as longtime lead guitarist Arve “Ice Dale” Isdal backed up the change from 2017’s E (review here) that brought in new keyboardist/vocalist Hakon Vinje with the incorporation of drummer Iver Sandøy, who doubles as a vocalist (and triples as a producer). The “new blood” made all the difference on Utgard, allowing Enslaved to piece together new ranges of melody in their work and offset instrumental shifts into and out of krautrock-derived progressions. Simply the work of a band outdoing itself from a band who does so at nearly every opportunity.
Every year I allow myself one addendum pick, and this is it. We Are was on last year’s list because it was digitally released, but the vinyl came out this year and it received its North American release this year as well, so it seemed only right to acknowledge that. So here it is in its proper place.
This is a band controlling their own narrative. Instead of Nothing as the Ideal being ‘the one they made as a three-piece,’ the Nashville outfit decided to make it ‘the one they recorded at Abbey Road.’ Were they thinking of it on those terms? Yeah, likely not, but it goes to demonstrate all the same just how much of themselves All Them Witches put into what they do musically, since not only are they continuing to refine and define and undefine their approach, but they’re setting the terms on which they do it. Each of their records has been a response to the one prior, but that conversation has never been so direct as to make them predictable. So what are they chasing? Apparently nothing. I’m not entirely sure I buy that as a complete answer, but I am sure I love these songs and the experiments with tape loops and other sounds that fill these spaces. Whatever they do next — or even if nothing — their run has been incredible and exciting and one only hopes their influence continues to spread over the next however many years.
There was a high standard set by Elephant Tree‘s 2016 self-titled debut (review here), but their second LP, Habits, surpassed even the loftiest of expectations. With vocals centered around harmonies from guitarist Jack Townley and bassist Peter Holland, the former trio completed by drummer Sam Hart brought in guitarist/keyboardist John Slattery (also sometimes vocals), and the resultant breadth gave the material on Habits spaciousness beyond even what the first album promised. Drifting, rolling, unflinchingly melodic and somehow present even in its own escapism, Habitswas not just an early highlight for a rough 2020, but a comforting presence throughout, and the further one dug into tracks like “Sails,” “Exit the Soul,” “Faceless,” “Wasted” and the acoustic “The Fall Chorus,” the more there was to find — let alone “Bird,” which I’ll happily put against anything else one might propose for song of the year. As their former UK label crumbled, Habits emerged unscathed and Elephant Tree‘s future continues to shine with ever more hope for things to come. Being able to say that about anything feels like a relief.
Twenty years ago, Sweden’s Lowrider put out what would become a heavy rock landmark in their 2000 debut, Ode to Io (reissue review here). A follow-up years in the making even after the band got back together to play Desertfest in London (review here) and Berlin in 2013, Refractions first saw limited release in 2019 as part of Blues Funeral‘s PostWax series (discussed here), but its proper arrival was in early 2020, and there was really no looking back after that. It wasn’t just the novelty of a new Lowrider album that made Refractions such a joy, but the manner in which the band went about its work. There was no pretending that 20 years didn’t happen. There was no attempt to recapture the bottled lightning that was the first record, and Lowrider did not sound like a band “making a comeback” rife with expectations and fan-service. Refractions acknowledged the legacy of Ode to Io, sure enough, but as a step toward adding to it in meaningful and engaging ways. The songs — “Red River,” “Ode to Ganymede,” “Sernanders Krog,” “Ol’ Mule Pepe,” “Sun Devil/M87” and the 11-minute finale “Pipe Rider” — were fashioned without pretense and came across as the organic output of a band with nothing to prove to anyone but themselves. They made it their own. In a wretched year, Lowrider shined.
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The Top 50 Albums of 2020: Honorable Mention
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Yeah, okay. There are a lot of these, so buckle in. Last year I just threw out a list of bands. This year I’m a little more organized, so here are bands and records alphabetically.
Across Tundras, LOESS ~ LÖSS
Across Tundras, The Last Days of a Silver Rush
Alain Johannes, Hum
Arboretum, Let it All In
Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin, Stygian Bough Vol. 1
Black Helium, The Wholly Other
Boris, No
Brimstone Coven, The Woes of a Mortal Earth
CB3, Aeons
Celestial Season, The Secret Teachings
Crippled Black Phoenix, Ellengæst
Cruthu, Athrú Crutha
Domo, Domonautas Vol. 2
DOOL, Summerland
Dopelord, Sign of the Devil
Dwaal, Gospel of the Vile
Elder Druid, Golgotha
Ellis Munk Ensemble, San Diego Sessions
Emma Ruth Rundle & Thou, May Our Chambers Be Full
EMBR, 1823
Familiars, All in Good Time
Forlesen, Hierophant Violent
Galactic Cross, Galactic Cross
The Heavy Eyes, Love Like Machines
Hum, Inlet
Human Impact, Human Impact
Humulus, The Deep
Jupiterian, Protosapien
Kariti, Covered Mirrors
Khan, Monsoons
Kingnomad, Sagan Om Ryden
King Witch, Body of Light
Kryptograf, Kryptograf
Light Pillars, Light Pillars
Lord Buffalo, Tohu Wa Bohu
Lord Loud, Timid Beast
Lotus Thief, Oresteia
Malsten, The Haunting of Silvåkra Mill
Mindcrawler, Lost Orbiter
Motorpsycho, The All is One
Mountain Tamer, Psychosis Ritual
Mr. Bison, Seaward
Mrs. Piss, Self-Surgery
Mugstar, GRAFT
Murcielago, Casualties
Oranssi Pazuzu, Mestarin Kynsi
Paradise Lost, Obsidian
Parahelio, Surge Evelia Surge
The Pilgrim, …From the Earth to the Sky and Back
Pretty Lightning, Jangle Bowls
Psychlona, Venus Skytrip
Puta Volcano, AMMA
Ritual King, Ritual King
River Cult, Chilling Effect
Rrrags, High Protein
Shores of Null, Beyond the Shores (On Death and Dying)
Sigiriya, Maiden – Mother – Crone
Six Organs of Admittance, Companion Rises
16, Dream Squasher
Slomosa, Slomosa
Somnus Throne, Somnus Throne
Steve Von Till, No Wilderness Deep Enough
Stone Machine Electric, The Inexplicable Vibrations of Frequencies Within the Cosmic Netherworld
Sumac, May You Be Held
Temple of the Fuzz Witch, Red Tide
Temple of Void, The World That Was
The Kings of Frog Island, VI
Tia Carrera, Tried and True
Turtle Skull, Monoliths
Uffe Lorenzen, Magisk Realisme
Ulcerate, Stare Into Death and Be Still
Vessel of Light, Last Ride
Vestal Claret, Vestal Claret
Vinnum Sabbathi, Of Dimensions and Theories
Wight, Spank the World
Wino, Forever Gone
Yatra, All is Lost
Yuri Gagarin, The Outskirts of Reality
By no means is that list exhaustive. And to look at stuff like Psychlona, Oranssi Pazuzu, Wight, Wino, Puta Volcano, Kingnomad, Ellis Munk Ensemble, Paradise Lost, Alain Johannes, Arbouretum, Uffe Lorenzen, Tia Carrera — on and on and on — I can definitely see where arguments are to be made for records that should’ve been in the list proper. I can only go with what feels right to me at the time.
Together with the top 50, this makes over 110 albums in the best of 2020. If you find yourself needing something to hang your hat on, be glad you’re alive to witness this much excellent music coming out.
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Debut Album of the Year
Molassess, Through the Hollow
Other notable debuts (alphabetically):
Atramentus, Stygian
Bethmoora, Thresholds
BleakHeart, Dream Griever
Crystal Spiders, Molt
Dirt Woman, The Glass Cliff
Dwaal, Gospel of theVile
Electric Feat, Electric Feat
Familiars, All in Good Time
Galactic Cross, Galactic Cross
Human Impact, Human Impact
Jointhugger, I Am No One
Light Pillars, Light Pillars
Love Gang, Dead Man’s Game
Malsten, The Haunting of Silvåkra Mill
Might, Might
Mindcrawler, Lost Orbiter
Mrs. Piss, Self-Surgery
Parahelio, Surge Evelia Surge
Polymoon, Caterpillars of Creation
Ritual King, Ritual King
SEA, Impermanence
Slomosa, Slomosa
Soldati, Doom Nacional
Somnus Throne, Somnus Throne
SpellBook, Magick & Mischief
Spirit Mother, Cadets
Temple of the Fuzz Witch, Red Tide
The Crooked Whispers, Satanic Melodies
White Dog, White Dog
Notes: I sparred with myself every step of the way here. The last couple years I’ve tried to give the top-debut spot to not just a new band, but a new presence. Green Lung, King Buffalo, etc. Molassess, with members from The Devil’s Blood, Death Alley and Astrosoniq, isn’t exactly that. So what do I do? Do I go with something newer like Polymoon, Dirt Woman, BleakHeart, SEA, White Dog or The Crooked Whispers, or something with more established players like Molassess, Soldati, or even Light Pillars?
In the end, what made the difference was not just how brilliant the songs on Molassess’ Through the Hollow, but how honestly the band confronted the legacy they were up against. The songs had a familiar haunting presence, but they were also moving ahead to somewhere new. It was that blend of old and new ideas, and the resonant feeling of emotional catharsis — as well as the sheer immersion that took place while listening — that ultimately made the decision. Turns out I just couldn’t escape it.
And why not a list? Because this feels woefully inadequate as it is. I reviewed over 250 records this year one way or another — and that’s a conservative estimate — but a lot gets lost in the shuffle and somehow it just seemed wrong this time around to call something the 13th best first record of the year. I wanted to highlight the special achievement that was the Molassess album, but really, all of these records kicked my ass one way or the other.
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Short Release of the Year 2020
King Buffalo, Dead Star
Other notable EPs, Splits, Demos, etc.:
Big Scenic Nowhere, Lavender Blues
Coma Wall, Ursa Minor
Conan/Deadsmoke, Doom Sessions Vol. 1
Fu Manchu, Fu30 Pt. 1
Grandpa Jack, Trash Can Boogie
Howling Giant/Sergeant Thunderhoof, Masamune/Muramasa (split)
Oginalii, Pendulum
Kings Destroy, Floods
Lament Cityscape, The Old Wet
Limousine Beach, Stealin’ Wine +2
Merlock, That Which Speaks
Monte Luna, Mind Control Broadcast
Mos Generator/Di’Aul, Split
Pimmit Hills, Heathens & Prophets
Rito Verdugo, Post-Primatus
Rocky Mtn Roller, Rocky Mtn Roller
Spaceslug, Leftovers
10,000 Years, 10,000 Years
The White Swan, Nocturnal Transmission
Thunderbird Divine, The Hand of Man
Witchcraft, Black Metal
Notes: If you were wondering why King Buffalo’s Dead Star (review here) wasn’t on the big list, this is why. It was pitched to me as an EP and that’s how I’m classifying it. I’m taking the out. Is it an EP? Not really, but neither is it a full-length album, given its experimental nature and focus around its extended two-part title-track. Whatever it was, it was the best that-thing, and this is the category where such things go.
Again, tough choices after King Buffalo. Thunderbird Divine’s EP was wonderfully funk-blasted and woefully short (new album, please). The newly-issued Spaceslug EP branches out their sound in fascinating ways as a result of the lockdown. Witchcraft’s acoustic EP, Coma Wall’s EP and Big Scenic Nowhere’s EP all signaled good things to come, and Howling Giant’s split with Sergeant Thunderhoof was a highlight of the most recent Quarterly Review. There really isn’t a bummer on the list there, from the bitter psych of Oginalii to the industrial metal of Lament Cityscape, the unadulterated riffery of Merlock to the live-captured rawness of Monte Luna.
So again, why no list? Same answer. I want to highlight the progression King Buffalo made in their sound and leave room open elsewhere for things I missed. Please let me know what in the comments. Cordially.
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Live Album of the Year 2020
Yawning Man, Live at Giant Rock
Other notable live releases:
Ahab, Live Prey
Amenra, Mass VI Live
Arcadian Child, From Far, for the Wild (Live in Linz)
Author and Punisher, Live 2020 B.C.
Cherry Choke, Raising Salzburg Rockhouse
Dead Meadow, Live at Roadburn 2011
Dirty Streets, Rough and Tumble
Electric Moon, Live at Freak Valley Festival 2019
Kadavar, Studio Live Session Vol. 1
King Buffalo, Live at Freak Valley
Monte Luna, Mind Control Broadcast
Orange Goblin, Rough & Ready: Live and Loud
Øresund Space Collective, Sonic Rock Solstice 2019
Pelican, Live at the Grog Shop
SEA, Live at ONCE
Sumac, St Vitus 09/07/2018
Sun Blood Stories, (a)Live and Alone at Visual Arts Collective
Temple Fang, Live at Merleyn
YOB, Pickathon 2019 – Live From the Galaxy Barn
Notes: In this wretched year (mostly) void of live music, marked by canceled tours and festivals, the live album arguably played a more central role than it ever has, whether it was a band trying to keep momentum up following or leading into a studio release, taking advantage of the emergence of the Bandcamp Friday phenomenon or just trying to maintain some connection to their fans and the process of taking a stage. Or even playing in a room together. Or not a room. Anything. What was once a tossoff, maybe an afterthought companion piece became an essential worker of the listening experience.
You might accuse desert rock progenitors Yawning Man of playing to their base with Live at Giant Rock (featured here), and if so, fine. At no point in the last 50 years has that base more needed playing-to. And in the absence of shows, being able to hear (and watch, in the case of the accompanying video) Yawning Man go out to the landscape that spawned them and engage with their music was a beautiful moment of reconciliation. An exhale for the converted that didn’t fill one with empty promises of better tomorrows or tours to come, but served to remind what’s so worth preserving about the spirit of live music in the first place. The fact that anything can happen. A replaced note here, a tuning change there — these things can make not just an evening, but memories that go beyond shows, tours, to touch our lives.
There were a ton of live records this year. Some were benefits for worthy causes between saving venues, Black Lives Matter, voting rights organizations, and so on. And whether these were new performances from captured livestreams (Monte Luna, Kadavar) or older gigs that had been sitting around waiting for release at some point (Sumac, Dead Meadow), this, very much, was that point, and these live offerings kept burning a fire that felt at times very much in danger of being extinguished.
Looking Ahead to 2021
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A list of bands. Some confirmed releases, some not. Here goes:
Dread Sovereign, Sasquatch, Year of Taurus, Apostle of Solitude, Weedpecker, Borracho, Love Gang, Jointhugger, Demon Head, Iron Man, Greenleaf, Samsara Blues Experiment, The Mammathus, Evert Snyman, Wo Fat, Conclave, Here Lies Man, Kabbalah, Komatsu, Hour of 13, Wedge, Amenra, La Chinga, Spidergawd, Wolves in the Throne Room, Vokonis, Freedom Hawk, Masters of Reality, ZOM, Eyehategod, Sanhedrin, Green Lung, The Mountain King, Albatross Overdrive, Elder, King Buffalo, Sunnata, Howling Giant, SAVER, Conan, Slomatics, Ruff Majik, Kind, Mos Generator, Yawning Sons, Lantlôs, Brant Bjork, Spiral Grave, Crystal Spiders, Lightning Born, Samavayo, Wovenhand, Merlock, Comet Control, The Age of Truth, Eight Bells, BlackWater Holylight, DVNE, Monte Luna.
Thank You
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You’ve read enough, so I will do my best to keep this mercifully short. Thank you so much for reading — whether you still are or not — and thank you for being a part of the ongoing project that is The Obelisk. I cannot tell you how much it means to me to have such incredible support throughout not just this year, but all the years of the site’s existence. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Thank you most of all to The Patient Mrs. for her indulgence in letting me get this done. I’m amazed forever.
[Click play above to stream Phantomescence by Uncle Woe in its entirety. Album is out Oct. 23 on Packard Black Productions.]
An undercurrent of precision pervades the inward-looking expanse of Uncle Woe‘s second full-length in less than a year, Phantomescence. The four-track release runs 40 minutes on the dot, with half comprising exactly 20 of those 40 split into two songs, one about six and a half minutes and the other over 13. As the tracks are filled out with silence at the end, it seems entirely purposeful that Phantomescence was constructed this way, though I’ll admit to not really knowing what purpose such symmetry is intended to serve. It might just be a means of exerting some control on the part of founding vocalist, guitarist, bassist and keyboardist Rain Fice — who executed late-2019’s Our Unworn Limbs (review here) completely as a solo-project — over what seems like a chaotic torrent of emotional and crunching, angular sounds.
Fice mixed, mastered and did the cover art for Phantomescence, and is credited with the majority of the writing as well, but the new collection also sees Uncle Woe beginning to expand toward a fuller lineup with the addition of drummer Nicholas Wowk. Also credited with writing on opener “Become the Ghost,” Wowk would seem to have recorded his own drum and percussion parts, which since Fice did likewise hints toward a made-in-quarantine process behind the album as a whole, but somehow that only seems fitting for the kind of aesthetic craft the duo are honing. Rawer in its overall production style than was the debut, Phantomescence pursues a similar course of grunge-infused cosmic doom, bringing a crunch reminiscent of YOB at Atma‘s most jagged (speaking of “shores”) to back howls that call up images of Layne Staley circa Alice in Chains‘ Facelift. It is a powerful combination across these songs, and it should be noted that just because the record is raw does not mean it can’t also create an atmosphere, which Phantomescence most certainly does in its overarching sense of decay that even the track titles seem to acknowledge: “Become a Ghost” and “On Laden Shores” on side A and “Lucid Degrees of Autoscopic Ruin” and “Map of Dead Stars” on side B.
Some keywords: ghost, laden, ruin, dead. These are clues to the ambience that makes Uncle Woe even heavier than simple tones ever could. That’s not to take away from the performance aspect of the songs, since “Become the Ghost” establishes early both the crushing aspects of the record to unfold and the progression Fice has undertaken as a vocalist — he is audibly more confident in his layering here with a debut behind him — but Phantomescence is more about the consuming entirety of the sound rather than the elements that comprise it; all the pieces Fice and Wowk bring to the proceedings being put to serve the expression of the album itself. Indeed, even Wowk‘s drums seem to be positioned in the mix to feed into the mood, so that they are not just about grounding Fice‘s riffs, but also adding to the tumult.
This can be heard as “Become the Ghost” lumbers past its midpoint, before it moves into its extended, dreamy solo and back for a massively chugging apex to finish out — the lead track essentially building the world in which the rest of what follows will take place in terrestrial and ethereal terms alike. “On Laden Shores” begins quieter and as it’s more than twice as long would of course have more space in which to flourish and unfold gradually, but maybe the more apt comparison point for “Become the Ghost” is its side B counterpart “Lucid Degrees of Autoscopic Ruin.” The title references autoscopy, which is the act of seeing through another perspective, and if that’s what’s happening across the 6:46 leadoff to the second half of Phantomescence, the feel mournful in Pallbearer-style form, but again, rawer and made Uncle Woe‘s own like the influences noted above. The emotionality on naked display is more in focus through “Lucid Degrees of Autoscopic Ruin” than anywhere else on Phantomescence, including “Become the Ghost,” but it’s the patience with which it’s delivered that most ties it to the finale in “Map of Dead Stars.”
To be sure, “On Laden Shores” caps the first half of the LP with its own vision of melancholic lumbering — and when it comes right down to it, it’s not like Our Unworn Limbs was bouncing off the walls either; these are relative degrees we’re talking about — but it becomes a question of tipping balances in Uncle Woe‘s sound. The fullness of lurch in “On Laden Shores” indeed invokes waves, and its melody carried by the vocals complements early while giving way to more guttural roars later, only to drift into silence at the end. “A Map of Dead Stars,” meanwhile, also begins with a quiet guitar figure, but follows a more patient path to its moment of surge, and much as “Become the Ghost” informs Phantomescence as a whole, so too does that opening of “A Map of Dead Stars” affect what comes after, which wants nothing for heft.
The wistful last solo, the relatively brief stretch of melodic vocals and gritty wailing and the outright pummeling march that answers it to round out “A Map of Dead Stars” — with feedback giving way to a from-the-ground-up build that pays off in noisier fashion than anything preceding — are a fitting and efficient summary of Uncle Woe‘s evolution in progress, and there is nothing to indicate that the development between their 2019 offering and this one will stop here. If anything, the work Uncle Woe put into Phantomescence reaffirms the potential of their debut while standing as an accomplished stride forward from it. As to where anything might lead, I couldn’t and wouldn’t say, but what’s happening in these songs is Uncle Woe‘s continued discovery — and Fice‘s continued discovery — and refinement of their own creative process. The individual sensibility that emerges from Phantomescence is not to be taken lightly, and neither is the movement toward a complete, stage-ready lineup of the band. Again, unclear future (to put it mildly), but such multifaceted growth is rare.
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 22nd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Heads up on this one. I know plenty of people caught onto Uncle Woe with the first record, late-2019’s Our Unworn Limbs (review here), but if you didn’t, the second one, called Phantomescence, pushes even further out in terms of what that offering accomplished in terms of style, bringing down-in-a-hole grunge melody to a backdrop of lumbering cosmic doom. I’ve only had occasion to go through it once, but the progression is evident even in the structure offsetting longer tracks with shorter ones, and there is a clearer sense of purpose throughout.
I’ll have a review up of Phantomescence hopefully ahead of the release date, but the opening track is streaming now. Hail Canadian heavy, and no, I’m not just saying that because I plan to apply for asylum there.
Again, heads up. Here’s PR wire info:
Mournful And Meandering, Canada’s Uncle Woe Reveal Second Album “Phantomescence”
Canada’s Uncle Woe brings you a contemplative, progressive doom album “Phantomescence” that was completely conceived and recorded in pandemic induced isolation. The opening track/lead single, “Become The Ghost” is a meandering exploration of death and dreams.
“Phantomescence” deviates from the first Uncle Woe album as the band moves forward from a solo studio project. It is an easily digestible, logical next step in the band’s evolution; elements, which made the first LP, “Our Unworn Limbs”, engaging and intriguing are present again on this offering; expanded upon, polished, and moderately better produced. The new album deals with death in a much broader and less personal sense, and also contains a lot of abstract, dream sequence type elements.
Currently, as a two-piece, Rain Fice and Nicholas Wowk worked on their parts separately, shared them online and managed to pull off the second album from the band. Fice details the intricacies of the single:
“Become The Ghost is almost relentless in its forward, mid-tempo, stomping march. The first chorus comes as a very small, simple 3/4 breather, in the midst of the opening/verse riff’s endless churning and revolving 11/4 and 15/4 riff. The vocals throughout are rough, and finally build to a scream in that last, closing verse. After the death of someone very near to me, I remember a feeling of loss so great that it seemed that even though THEY had died, I was the one who became a ghost if that makes sense; a ghost, or shadow, or shell.”
Many chugging, bludgeoning passages are offset by expansive and contemplative, subdued, almost post-rock soundscapes, making Uncle Woe suitable for fans of Yob, Chrome Ghost and Deftones.
Track Listing: 1. Become The Ghost (6:29) 2. On Laden Shores (13:30) 3. Lucid Degrees of Autoscopic Ruin (6:45) 4. A Map of Dead Stars (13:14) EP Length: 40:00
Album Credits: • All songs performed by: Rain Fice/Nicholas Wowk • All songs written by: Rain Fice *Become the Ghost by Fice/Wowk • Produced by: Rain Fice/Nicholas Wowk • Mixed by: Rain Fice • Mastered by: Rain Fice • Album Artwork by: Rain Fice • Canadian Content (MAPL)
EP Recording Band Line Up: Rain Fice – Guitar, Vocals, Bass, Keyboards Nicholas Wowk – Drums/Percussion
Posted in Bootleg Theater on January 24th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
The intention behind Uncle Woe‘s new video would seem pretty clearly to be to give a sampling of what the project’s debut album, Our Unworn Limbs (review here), is all about, and in that regard, the song “Mania for Breaking” is more than suited to the purpose. At a little under five minutes, it is the shortest of the pieces on Our Unworn Limbs by a wide margin — the minute-long acoustic departure “When the Night Fell In Pt. 2” that precedes it notwithstanding — but still captures the tonal crunch and atmospheric reach of the album’s longer material. The video put together by Rain Fice, who also happens to be the sole figure behind the Ontario-based solo-project (more on that in a bit), is animated weirdness that underscores the emotional tumult on display in the chugging riffs and YOB-style cosmic atmosphere.
Video, song and album alike are equal parts entrancing and strange. The animation comes across with the avant feel of a darker Terry Gilliam, but still feels on-theme with the track it complements, moth-lady to the moon and all. Elsewhere on the record, 10-plus-minute songs like “Son of the Queen,” “That’s How They Get You” and the 15-minute closer “Push the Blood Back In” unfurl some of the same textures of “Mania for Breaking” on a grander scale of melody and heft, but particularly with the visual accompaniment, there’s enough here to begin to get the point across at least to a degree that one might be tempted to, say, stream the record in full via Bandcamp. Fortunately there’s a player embedded at the bottom of the post for precisely that purpose.
As noted, Uncle Woe is a solo-project, but my understanding is Fice‘s intent is to put a group of together and begin a full, live incarnation of it as a band. What that will ultimately look like, I don’t know — trio, four-piece, dude-plus-drummer, etc. — but it means that, if it happens, the follow-up to Our Unworn Limbs will invariably have a different dynamic, provided those players actually appear on the record as well. So as much as “Mania for Breaking” is a sampling of Our Unworn Limbs, maybe the album too is just a sampling of things to come from Uncle Woe as Fice gets the band going. Given what he achieves on his own with this debut, to say I’m intrigued to find out what happens next would be putting it mildly.
Video and album stream follow. Please enjoy:
Uncle Woe, “Mania for Breaking” official video
Now you can enjoy Uncle Woe at your next video dance party!
Official music video for, “Mania for Breaking,” from Uncle Woe’s Debut LP, “Our Unworn Limbs.”
Hailing from the oft frozen hills of rural Canada, Uncle Woe is a phantom limb, shown here wielding some bludgeoning tool against mostly true tales of bittersweet sorrow, revenge, and regret.
Posted in Reviews on January 9th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Yesterday was marked by a decisive lack of productivity. I got there, don’t get me wrong, but it took friggin’ forever to make it happen. I’m obviously hoping for a different result today and tomorrow. You would think 10 records is 10 records, but some days it’s easy flowing, bounce from one to the next without any trouble, and some days you’re me sitting there wondering how many times you can get away with using the word “style” in the same post. Punishing. The saving factor was that the music was good. Amazing how often that serves as the saving factor.
Just today and tomorrow left, so let’s dive in. Lots of different kinds of releases today, so keep your ears and mind open.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
We Lost the Sea, Triumph and Disaster
There is plenty of heavy post-rock floating — and I do mean floating — around these days, spreading ethereal and contemplative vibes hither and yon, but none have the emotional weight brought to bear instrumentally by Sydney, Australia’s We Lost the Sea. Across their 65-minute 2LP, Triumph and Disaster (on Translation Loss), the six-piece band recount a wordless narrative of the aftermath of the end of the world through the eyes of a mother and child on their last day. It is a touching and beautiful flow of sentiment, regret and weight that comes through the wash of three guitars and synth, bass and drums, and though 2015’s Departure Songs (review here, discussed here) worked in a similar vein in terms of style if not story, these seven tracks and 65 minutes are wholly distinguished by a willful-seeming progression on the part of the band and a patience and poise of execution as they alternate between longer and shorter pieces that only underscores how special their work truly is. At least the apocalypse is gorgeous.
Nothing against the progenitors of the form, but Nebula Drag seem with Blud to pull off the feat that Helmet never really could, bringing together a noise-rock derived dissonance of riff with a current of melody in the vocals and even moments of patience in the guitar to go along with the crunch of its more aggressive points. This inherently makes the Desert Records offering from the San Diego outfit a less outwardly intense affair than it might otherwise be, but songs like “Always Dying,” “Numb” and the closer “Mental” — as well as the album as a whole — are ultimately richer for it, and there’s still plenty of drive in opener “Dos Lados” and the shorter “Faces” and “What Went Wrong,” which arrive back to back on side B and lend the momentum that carries Nebula Drag through the remainder of the proceedings. It’s easy to hear to Blud superficially and pass it off as noise or heavy rock or this or that, but Nebula Drag earn and reward deeper listens in kind.
Los Angeles oppressive and misanthropic noise project Nothing is Real manifested some of the harshest sounds I heard in 2019 on Only the Wicked are Pure (review here), and the just-months-later follow-up, Pain is Joy, reminds of the constant sensory assault under which we all seem to live. Across five extended tracks of increased production value — still raw, just not as raw — the band seems to be forming a coherent philosophical perspective in “Existence is Pain,” the guest-vocalized “Realms of Madness,” “Life is but a Dream,” “Pain is Joy,” and “We Must Break Free,” but if there’s a will to explain the punishment that is living, there’s not much by way of answer forthcoming in the sludgy riffing, grinding onslaught and surprising solo soar of “We Must Break Free,” instrumental as it is. Still, the fact that Pain is Joy allows for the possibility of joy to exist at all, in any form, ever, distinguishes it from its predecessor, and likewise the clearer sound and cogent expressive purpose. A focused attack suits Nothing is Real. I have the feeling it won’t be long before we find out where it takes the band next.
If the name Oresteia isn’t immediately familiar, maybe “Agamemnon” will give some hint. San Francisco’s Lotus Thief, with their third full-length and second for Prophecy Productions, not only bring together progressive black metal, post-rock and drama-laced doom, but do so across eight-tracks and 38 minutes summarizing a 5th century Greek tragedy written in three parts. Ambitious? Yes. Successful? I’ll claim zero familiarity with the text itself, but for the eight-minute “Libation Bearers” alone — never mind any of the other immersive, beautiful wash the band emits throughout — I’m sure glad they’re engaging with it. Ambient stretches like “Banishment” and “Woe” and the barely-there “Reverence” add further character to the proceedings, but neither are “The Furies,” “Agamemnon,” “Sister in Silence” or subdued-but-tense closer “The Kindly Ones” lacking for atmosphere. Oresteia is grim, theatrical, stylistically forward-thinking and gorgeous. A perfect, perfect, perfect winter record.
Chugging, sprawling, and most of all reaching, the late-2019 debut LP, Our Unworn Limbs, from Ontario as-yet-solo-outfit Uncle Woe — composed, performed and recorded by Rain Fice — is one of marked promise, taking elements of modern progressive and cosmic doom from the likes of YOB‘s subtly angular riffing style and unfolding them across an emotionally resonant but still manageable 43-minute span. The stomp in “That’s How They Get You” is duly oppressive in following the opener “Son of the Queen,” but with the one-minute experiment “When the Night Fell Pt. 2” and jagged but harmonized “Mania for Breaking” ahead of 15-minute closer “Push the Blood Back In,” the record’s tumult and triumphs are presented with character and a welcome feeling of exploration. I would expect over time that the melodic basis and vocal presence Fice demonstrates in “Mania for Breaking” will continue to grow, but both are already significant factors in the success of that song and the album surrounding it, the first 20-plus minutes of which is spent mired in “Son of the Queen” and “That’s How They Get You,” as early proof of the sure controlling hand at the helm of the project. May it continue to be so.
Guitarist/vocalist Alex Wyld, bassist Doug MacKinnon and drummer Lewis May have processed the world around them and translated it into a riffy course of sci-fi and weirdo semi-prog thematics across Absurdum ad Nauseam. What else to call such a thing? At eight songs and 52 minutes, it stands astride the lines between heavy rock and doom and sludge in lengthier pieces like “The Cetacean,” “The Ivory Tower” and the finale “Hypercomputer Part 2,” yet when it comes to picking out discernible influences, one has to result to generalizations like Black Sabbath and Acrimony, the latter in the rolling largesse of “Spice” and “The Myth of Sisyphus” later on in the outing and the vocal effects there particularly, but neither is enough to give a sense of what Cybernetic Witch Cult are actually about in terms of the modernity of their approach and the it’s-okay-we-know-what-we’re-doing-just-trust-us vibe they bring as they rush through “Cromagnonaut” after the intro and “Hypercomputer Part 1.” I’m inclined to just go with it, which should tell you something in itself about the band’s ability to carry their listener through. They earn that trust.
Heavy blues meets heavy metal on Your Highness‘ self-titled and self-released third album, collecting eight tracks that divide evenly across two sides of an LP, each half ending with a longer piece, whether it’s “Black Fever” (9:00) on side A or “Kin’s Blood” (14:14) on side B. Through these, in full-throttle movements like opener “Devil’s Delight” and “Rope as a Gift” and in nestled-in groovers like “The Flood” and “To Wood and Stone,” Your Highness don’t shy away from bringing a sense of atmosphere to their material, but maintain a focus on burl, gruffness and tonal weight, an aggressive undercurrent in a song like “Born Anew” — the riff to which is nonetheless particularly bluesy — being emblematic of the perspective on display throughout. It moves too fleetly to ever be considered entirely sludge, but Your Highness‘ 51-minute span is prone to confrontation just the same, and its ferocious aspects come to a head in satisfying fashion as the wash of crash pays off “Kin’s Blood,” shouts cutting through en route to a finish of acoustic guitar that lands as a reminder to release the breath you’ve been holding the whole time. Heavy stuff? Why yes, it is.
Italy’s fervor for stoner rock is alive and well as represented in Demonic Sunset, the eight-song/34-minute debut full-length from Catanzaro’s Deep Valley Blues. Their sound works out to be more heavy rock than the desert one might imagine given the album cover, but that influence is still there, if beefed up tonally by guitarists Alessandro Morrone and Umberto Arena (the latter also backing vocals), bassist/vocalist Giando Sestito and drummer Giorgio Faini, whose fluid turns between propulsion and swing enable a song like “Dana Skully” to come together in its verse/chorus transitions. The penultimate nine-minute “Tired to Beg For” is an outlier among more straight-ahead songwriting, but they use the time well and close with the acoustic-led “Empire,” an encouraging showcase of sonic breadth to follow up on the start of “Lust Vegas” and a widening of the melodic range that one hopes Deep Valley Blues push further on subsequent releases. Centered around issues of mental health in terms of its lyrics, if somewhat vaguely, Demonic Sunset is a first LP that extends its focus to multiple levels while still keeping its feet on the ground in a way that will be familiar to experienced genre heads.
You can toss a coin as to whether Sky Shadow Obelisk are death-doom or doom-death, but as you do, just keep an eye on the bludgeoning doled out by the solo-project of Rhode Island-based composer Peter Scartabello on his latest EP, The Satyr’s Path, because it is equal parts thorough and ferocious. Flourish of keys and melody adds a progressive edge to the proceedings across the five-track release, particularly in its two instrumentals, the centerpiece “Ouroboros” and the first half of closer “Shadow of Spring,” but amid the harnessed madness of “Chain of Hephaestus” — which from its lyrics I can only think of as a work song — and the one-two of “The Serpent’s Egg” and the title-track early on, those moments of letup carry a tension of mood that even the grand finish in “Shadow of Spring” seems to acknowledge. It’s been since 2015 that Scartabello last offered up a Sky Shadow Obelisk full-length. He shows enough scope here to cover an album’s worth of ground, but on the most basic level, I’d take more if it was on offer.
Following up on a 2015 self-titled the material on Minus Green‘s sophomore album, Equals Zero, would seem to have at least in part been kicking around for a couple years, as the closer here, “Durial” (11:22) was released in a single version in 2016. Fair enough. If the other three cuts, opener “Primal” (9:58), “00” (11:51) and the penultimate “Kames” (10:08), have also been developed over that span, the extra rumination wouldn’t seem to have harmed them at all — they neither feel overthought to a point of staleness nor lack anything in terms of the natural vibe that their style of progressive instrumentalist heavy psychedelia warrants. The procession unfolds as a cleanly-structured LP with two songs per side arranged shorter-into-longer, and their sound is duly immersive to give an impression of exploration underway without being entirely jam-based in their structure. That is, listening to “00,” one gets the feeling it’s headed somewhere, which, fortunately it is. Where it and the record surrounding go ultimately isn’t revolutionary in aesthetic terms, but it is well performed and more than suitable for repeat visits. Contrary to the impression they might seek to give, it amounts to more than nothing.
