The story behind the advent of this cover is a reminder never to underestimate the power of coincidence or the small-world nature of the underground. A quarter century after letting a poli-sci punk band sleep on his floor, Glenn Szymanski of Tines reconnects with drummer Andy Patterson, who went on from that band State of the Nation to play in Iota, SubRosa, Insect Ark, now The Otolith, on and on, while emerging as an in-demand producer/engineer at his Boar’s Nest Studio in Salt Lake City, and ends up filling out drum tracks recorded but unused for a Deep Purple tribute, the song “Bloodsucker” from 1970’s mega-landmark In Rock LP. Certainly the road from A to B on that narrative is
Tines to release cover of Deep Purple’s “Bloodsucker” on April 7, 2023
Buffalo, NY doomy-prog outfit Tines will release a ripping cover of Deep Purple’s “Bloodsucker,” (available for pre-order now) featuring guest drummer Andy Patterson (ex Subrosa) on April 7, 2023. The cover is their first post Covid release since their debut 7″ single (Thin Blue Line b/w Rock and Roll Witness Protection Program) in Spring 2020.
Tines’ take on the 1970 hard rock album cut was almost 30 years in the making. In 1994, Tines’ guitarist and flag-bearer Glenn Szymanski was at a basement show featuring Revelation Records artist Sensefield, with a band called State of the Nation as the opening act. Impressed by their political message and pro Native American activism, he offered them his apartment floor to crash on that night.
More than 25 years go by, Tines submits their 7″ to the Blynd Submyshynz podcast. In January of 2021, that episode airs with special guest…wait for it…Andy Patterson, former drummer for State of the Nation, who had since achieved prominence with bands such as Subrosa, Insect Ark and as producer/engineer at his own Boar’s Nest recording studio. Glenn recognized Andy and the two reconnected on Facebook. Andy had recorded a drum track that didn’t end up getting used for Bow to Your Masters Volume 2, a Glory or Death Records tribute album. Patterson and Szymanski arranged to use the drum track with Tines completing the other parts of the song with bassist Mike Hermann, keyboardist Arrow Fitzgibbon, and vocalist Kelly Murphy.
This is something of a time warped version of “Bloodsucker,” given that Tines have made heavy use of analog synthesizers and a touch of clavinet that weren’t used by Jon Lord until the more funky Mark III era of Deep Purple.
Tines are currently writing new music for a full length and plan to release a video that has been stuck in editing limbo for the last year in May 2023. They’ve played Maryland Doomfest and Descendants of Crom Festival in Pittsburgh and look forward to getting back on the live circuit in the near future.
Tines: Kelly Murphy – vocals Glenn Szymanski – guitar/backing vocals Mike Hermann – bass Arrow Fitzgibbon – keyboards/guitar
This is the part where I’m supposed to tell you I’m quaking in my flip-flops about doing 100 reviews in the span of two weeks, how worried I am I’ll run out of ways to say something is weird, or psychedelic, or heavy, or whatever. You know what? This time, even with a doublewide Quarterly Review — which means 100 records between now and next Friday — I feel like we got this. It’ll get done. And if it doesn’t? I’ll take an extra day. Who even pretends to give a crap?
I think that’s probably the right idea, so let’s get this show on the road, as my dear wife is fond of saying.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
Alunah, Strange Machine
Following on from 2019’s Violet Hour (review here), Birmingham’s Alunah offer the nine songs and 42 minutes of Strange Machine on Heavy Psych Sounds. It’s a wonder to think this is the band who a decade ago released White Hoarhound (review here), but of course it’s mostly not. Alunah circa 2022 bring a powerhouse take on classic heavy rock and roll, with Siân Greenaway‘s voice layered out across proto-metallic riffs and occasional nods such as “Fade Into Fantasy” or “Psychedelic Expressway” pulling away from the more straight-ahead punch. One can’t help but be reminded of Black Sabbath with Ronnie James Dio — a different, more progressive and expansive take on the same style they started with — which I guess would make Strange Machine their Mob Rules. They may or may not be the band you expected, but they’re quite a band if you’re willing to give the songs a chance.
Skipping neither the death nor the doom ends of death-doom, Los Angeles-based QAALM make a gruesome and melancholic debut with Resilience & Despair, with a vicious, barking growl up front that reminds of none so much as George “Corpsegrinder” Fisher, but that’s met intermittently with airy stretches of emotionally weighted float led by its two guitars. Across the four-song/69-minute outing, no song is shorter than opener “Reflections Doubt” (14:40), and while that song, “Existence Asunder” (19:35), “Cosmic Descent” (18:23) and “Lurking Death” (17:16) have their more intense moments, the balance of miseries defines the record by its spaciousness and the weight of the chug that offsets. The cello in “Lurking Death” adds fullness to create a Katatonia-style backdrop, but QAALM are altogether more extreme, and whatever lessons they’ve learned from the masters of the form, they’re being put to excruciating use. And the band knows it. Go four minutes into any one of these songs and tell me they’re not having a great time. I dare you.
The Traveler is Sterling DeWeese‘s second solo full-length under the banner of Ambassador Hazy behind 2020’s Glacial Erratics (review here) and it invariably brings a more cohesive vision of the bedroom-psychedelic experimentalist songcraft that defined its predecessor. “All We Wanted,” for example, is song enough that it could work in any number of genre contexts, and where “Take the Sour With the Sweet” is unabashed in its alt-universe garage rock ambitions, it remains righteously weird enough to be DeWeese‘s own. Fuller band arrangements on pieces like that or the later “Don’t Smash it to Pieces” reinforce the notion of a solidifying approach, but “Simple Thing” nonetheless manages to come across like Dead Meadow borrowed a drum machine from Godflesh circa 1987. There’s sweetness underlying “Afterglow,” however, and “Percolator,” which may or may not actually have one sampled, is way, way out there, and in no small way The Traveler is about that mix of humanity and creative reaching.
Strange things afoot in Stockholm. Blending classic doom and heavy rock with a clean, clear production, shades of early heavy metal and the odd bit of ’70s folk in the verse of “While the Devil is Asleep,” the five-piece Spiral Skies follow 2018’s Blues for a Dying Planet with Death is But a Door, a collection that swings and grooves and is epic and intimate across its nine songs/43 minutes, a cut like “Somewhere in the Dark” seeming to grow bigger as it moves toward its finish. Five of the nine inclusions make some reference to sleep or the night or darkness — including “Nattmaran” — but one can hardly begrudge Spiral Skies working on a theme when this is the level of the work they’re doing. “The Endless Sea” begins the process of excavating the band’s stylistic niche, and by “Time” and “Mirage” it’s long since uncovered, and the band’s demonstration of nuance, melody and songwriting finds its resolution on closer “Mirror of Illusion,” which touches on psychedelia as if to forewarn the listener of more to come. Familiar, but not quite like anything else.
Almost tragically atmospheric given the moods involved, Wyoming-based industrial metallurgists Lament Cityscape commence the machine-doom of A Darker Discharge following a trilogy of 2020 EPs compiled last year onto CD as Pneumatic Wet. That release was an hour long, this one is 24 minutes, which adds to the intensity somehow of the expression at the behest of David Small (Glacial Tomb, ex-Mountaineer, etc.) and Mike McClatchey (also ex-Mountaineer), the ambience of six-minute centerpiece “Innocence of Shared Experiences” making its way into a willfully grandiose wash after “All These Wires” and “Another Arc” traded off in caustic ’90s-style punishment. “The Under Dark” is a cacophony early and still intense after the fog clears, and it, “Where the Walls Used to Be” and the coursing-till-it-slows-down, gonna-get-noisy “Part of the Mother” form a trilogy of sorts for side B, each feeding into the overarching impression of emotional untetheredness that underscores all that fury.
You got friends? Me neither. But if we did, and we told them about the wholesome exploratory jams of Belfast trio Electric Octopus, I bet their hypothetical minds would be blown. St. Patrick’s Cough is the latest studio collection from the instrumentalist improv-specialists, and it comes and goes through glimpses of various jams in progress, piecing together across 13 songs and 73 minutes — that’s short for Electric Octopus — that find the chemistry vital as they seamlessly bring together psychedelia, funk, heavy rock, minimalist drone on “Restaurant Banking” and blown-out steel-drum-style island vibes on “A2enmod.” There’s enough ground covered throughout for a good bit of frolicking — and if you’ve never frolicked through an Electric Octopus release, here’s a good place to start — but in smaller experiments like the acoustic slog “You Have to Be Stupid to See That” or the rumbling “Universal Knife” or the shimmering-fuzz-is-this-tuning-up “Town,” it’s only encouraging to see the band continue to try new ideas and push themselves even farther out than they were. For an act who already dwells in the ‘way gone,’ it says something that they’re refusing to rest on their freaked-out laurels.
Behold, the sludge of death. Maybe it’s not fair to call When the World Dies one of 2022’s best debut albums since Come to Grief is intended as a continuation by guitarist/backing vocalist Terry Savastano (also WarHorse) and drummer Chuck Conlon of the devastation once wrought by Grief, but as they unleash the chestripping “Life’s Curse” and the slow-grind filthy onslaught of “Scum Like You,” who gives a shit? When the World Dies, produced of course by Converge‘s Kurt Ballou at GodCity, spreads aural violence across its 37 minutes with a particular glee, resting only for a breath before meting out the next lurching beating. Jonathan Hébert‘s vocal cords deserve a medal for the brutality they suffer in his screams in the four-minute title-track alone, never mind the grime-encrusted pummel of closer “Death Can’t Come Fast Enough.” Will to abrasion. Will to disturb. Heavy in spirit but so raw in its force that if you even manage to make it that deep you’ve probably already drowned. A biblical-style gnashing of teeth. Fucking madness.
In the works one way or the other since 2020, the sophomore full-length from Pittsburgh heavy rockers ZOM brings straight-ahead classicism with a modernized production vibe, some influence derived from the earlier days of Clutch or The Sword and of course Black Sabbath — looking at you, “Running Man” — but there’s a clarity of purpose behind the material that is ZOM‘s own. They are playing rock for rockers, and are geared more toward revelry than conversion, but there’s no arguing with the solidity of their craft and the meeting of their ambitions. Their last record took them to Iceland, and this one has led them to the UK. Don’t be surprised when ZOM announce an Australian tour one of these days, just because they can, but wherever they go, know what they have the songs on their side to get them there. In terms of style, there’s very little revolutionary about Fear and Failure, but ZOM aren’t trying to revamp what you know of as heavy rock and roll so much as looking to mark their place within it. Listening to the burly chug of “Another Day to Run,” and the conversation the band seems to be having with the more semi-metal moments of Shadow Witch and others, their efforts sound not at all misspent.
Making their debut through Black Doomba Records, Columbia, South Carolina’s MNRVA recorded the eight-song Hollow in Spring 2019, and one assumes that the three-year delay in releasing is owed at least in to aligning with the label, plus pandemic, plus life happens, and so on. In any case, from “Not the One” onward, their fuzz-coated doom rock reminds of a grittier take on Cathedral, with guitarist Byron Hawk and bassist Kevin Jennings sharing vocal duties effectively while Gina Ercolini drives the march behind them. There’s some shifting in tempo between “Hollow” and a more brash piece like “With Fire” or the somehow-even-noisier-seeming penultimate cut “No Solution,” but the grit there is a feature throughout the album just the same. Their 2019 EP, Black Sky (review here), set them up for this, but only really in hindsight, and one wonders what they may have been up to in the time since putting this collection to tape if this is where they were three years ago. Some of this is straight-up half-speed noise rock riffing and that’s just fine.
The third full-length, Accelerationist, from Easthampton, Massachusetts’ Problem With Dragons is odd and nuanced enough by the time they get to the vocal effects on “Have Mercy, Show Mercy” — unless that’s a tracheostomy thing; robot voice; that’s not the first instance of it — to earn being called progressive, and though their foundation is in more straightforward heavy rock impulses, sludge and fuzz, they’ve been at it for 15 years and have well developed their own approach. Thus “Live by the Sword” opens to set up lumbering pieces like “Astro Magnum” and the finale title-track while “In the Name of His Shadow” tips more toward metal and the seven-minute “Don’t Fail Me” meets its early burl (gets the wurlm?) with airier soloing later on, maximizing the space in the album’s longest track. “A Demon Possessed” and “Dark Times (for Dark Times)” border on doom, but in being part of Problem With Dragons‘ overall pastiche, and in the band’s almost Cynic-al style of melodic singing, they are united with the rest of what surrounds. Some bands, you can just tell when individualism is part of their mission.
Posted in Questionnaire on March 29th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Mike McClatchey of Lament Cityscape
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I write what I know and what I’m feeling at whatever time I’m doing it. I know I have general influences and I kind of float between some differing sounds so I typically let others define us as far as genre is concerned. I’m aware that the new album sits well in “industrial metal” though.
Describe your first musical memory.
My mom had really good taste in music, so I grew up on a mix of Prince, David Bowie, Genesis, Depeche Mode, etc. I remember listening to “1999” on tape and it blowing my mind. I had no idea how sounds were made and I was in awe of what music could do. It wasn’t until my late teens until I thought about ever learning music. My friend, who is an amazing musician, put a bass in my hands and told me what to do so he could solo over it. I fell in love with it at that moment.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
Oh, Christ! Maybe seeing NIN and David Bowie in ’95? Hearing songs that I was comfortable with being played in such different ways made me rethink how studio version of songs can be completely different than live songs. Maybe seeing Neübauten? I saw Gary Numan a couple years ago and it was so amazing that I forgot I was old. I haven’t seen a show that good in maybe forever.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
On a personal level that happens daily and I’m becoming more fluid with everything as I get older. On a musical level I’ve been trying to test the things I thought I knew about how I write. I’m not typically a fan of blast beats as I don’t think I have a fast enough brain for them so I tried them out on this one. Short songs, as well. I usually need a lot of time to get places in songs so I tried to trim everything I usually rely on.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I have no idea. I try not to repeat myself and I try to keep doing new things, but I don’t really do it for some intent to progress in some linear way. I think I just do whatever feels relevant and right at the time of writing. I try to add whatever I may have learned and absorbed between albums but really I don’t put much thought into “where will this lead” and I focus on “what do I need to say right now?”
How do you define success?
Artistic success? I guess it might just be not hating an album when it’s done. Feeling like I was honest and did something that felt right for the right reasons. I hope it reaches others and I hope it connects with people, but once I’m done with it and it’s in the world I have to let go.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Ministry in 2008.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
A movie. A goth rock album. A film score.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Oh, c’mon. Essential? I know it’s completely subjective but it seems like it’s just to feel something. You can look through different mediums to find whatever it is you want to feel. But it seems like that feels right to me.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Posted in Reviews on December 17th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Behold, the last day of the Quarterly Review. For a couple weeks, anyhow. I gotta admit, even with the prospect of doing it all again next month looming over my head, this QR has been strikingly easy to put together. Yeah, some of that is because of back-end conveniences in compiling links, images and embeds, prep work done ahead of time, and so on, but more than that it’s because the music is good. And if you know anything about a QR, you know I like to treat myself on the last day. Today is not at all an exception in that regard. Accordingly, I won’t delay, except to say thanks again for reading and following along if you have been. I know my own year-end list won’t be the same for having done this, and I hope the same for you.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
Kanaan, Earthbound
F-U-Z-Z! Putting the jazzy drive they showcased on 2020’s Odense Sessions on hold, Oslo trio Kanaan — guitarist/percussionist Ask Vatn Strøm (guitar, percussion, noise), Ingvald André Vassbø (drums, percussion, Farfisa) and Eskild Myrvoll (bass, synth, Mellotron, some guitar) — get down to the business of riffs and shred on the clearly-purposefully-titled Earthbound, still touching on heavy psychedelic impulses — “Bourdon” is a positive freakout, man — but underscoring that with a thickness of groove and distorted tonality that more than lives up to the name. See also the cruncher “Mudbound,” which, yeah, gets a little airy in its back half but still holds that thud steady all the while. Simultaneously calling back to European instrumental heavy of two decades ago while maintaining their progressive edge, Kanaan strike a rare — which is to stop just shy of saying “unique” — balance that’s so much richer than the common Earthless idol-worship, and yet somehow miraculously free of pretense at the same time. 46 minutes of heavy joy.
Not to be confused with Germany’s The Spacelords, Buffalo, New York’s heavy blues purveyors offer a melody-minded eight songs across the 44 minutes of their third self-released long-player, with the vocals of Ed Grabianowski (also guitar) a distinct focal point backed by Rich Root‘s guitar, bass, drums and production. The two-piece deftly weave between acoustic and electric guitar foundations on songs like “How the Devil Got Into You” and “Breakers,” with a distinctly Led Zeppelin-style flair throughout, the Page/Plant dynamic echoed in the guitar strum as well as the vocals. “Broken Teeth Ritual” pushes through heavier riffing early on, and “All Night Drive” nears eight minutes with a right-on swinging solo jam to follow on the largely unplugged “Crypt Ghost,” and “M-60” nears prog metal in its chug, but the layering of “Starswan” brings a sweet conclusion to the proceedings, which despite the band’s duo configuration sound vibrant in a live sense and organic in their making.
The opening title-track of Altareth‘s debut album, Blood, seems to be positioned as a direct clarion call to fellow Sabbathians — to my East Coast US ears, it reminds of Curse the Son, which should be taken as a compliment to tone and melody — but the Gothenburg five-piece aren’t through “Satan Hole” before offering some samples and weirdo garage-sounding ’60s keyboard/horn surges, and the swirling lead that consumes the finish of “Downward Mobile,” which follows, continues to hint at their developing complexity of approach. Still, their core sound is slow, thick, dark and lumbering, and whether that’s coming through in centerpiece “Eternal Sleep” or the willful drudgery that surrounds the quiet, melodic break in “Moon,” they’re not shy about making the point. Neither should they be. The penultimate “High Priest” offers mournful soloing and the nine-minute closer “Empty” veers into post-Cathedral prog-doom in its volume trades before a solo crescendo finishes out, and the swallowed-by-sentient-molasses vibe is sealed. They’ll continue to grow into themselves, and Blood would seem to indicate that will be fun to hear.
The closing piece of a trilogy and reportedly the final offering from Romanian folk-laced progressive black metallers Negură Bunget following the 2017 death of founding drummer Gabriel “Negru” Mafa, Zău begins with the patient unfolding and resultant sweep of its longest track (immediate points) in “Brad” before the foresty gorgeousness of “Iarba Fiarelor” finds a place between agonized doom and charred bark. Constructed parabolically with its longer songs bookending around the seven-minute centerpiece “Obrazar,” Zău is perhaps best understood in the full context in which it arrives, as the band’s swansong after tragic loss, etc., but it’s also complex and engrossing enough to stand on its own separate from that, and in paying homage to their fallen comrade by completing his last work, Negură Bunget have underscored what made them such a standout in the first place. After the wash of “Tinerețe Fără Bătrânețe,” closer “Toacă Din Cer” rounds out by moving from its shimmering guitar into a muted ceremony of horn and tree-creaking percussion that can only be called an appropriate finish, if in fact it is that for the band.
High Fighter — with guitars howling, screams wailing and growls guttural, drums pounding, bass thick and guitars leading the charge — recorded their Live at WDR Rockpalast set during lockdown, sans audience, at the industrial complex Landschaftspark Duisburg- Nord depicted on the cover of the LP/DL release. It’s a fittingly brutal-looking setting for the Hamburg-based melodic sludge metal aggressors, and in their rawest moments, tracks like “When We Suffer” and “Before I Disappear” throw down with a nastiness that should raise eyebrows for any who’d worship the crustiest of wares. Of course, that’s not the limit of what High Fighter do, and a big part of the band’s aesthetic draws on the offset of melody and extremity, but to listen to the 34-minute set wrap with the outright, dug-in, At the Gates-comparison-worthy rendition of “Shine Equal Dark,” it’s hard not to appreciate just how vicious they can be as a group. This was their last show with founding guitarist Christian “Shi” Pappas, and whatever the future holds, they gave him a fitting sendoff.
This is fucking rad. Long-running Welsh trio Spider Kitten probably don’t give a shit if you check it out or not, but I do. Major Label Debut runs less than half an hour and in that time they remind that there’s more expressive potential to heavy rock than playing to genre, and as cuts like “Maladjusted” reinvent grunge impact and the brooding “Hearts and Mindworms” blend Melvins-born weirdo impulses and naturalize Nine Inch Nailsian lyrical threat, there’s a good sense of doing-whatever-the-hell-they-want that comes through alongside deceptively thoughtful arrangements and melodies. The weight and post-Dirt sneer of “Sandbagged (Whoa, Yeah)” may or may not be parody, but hell if it doesn’t work, and the same applies to the earlier blast-punk of “Self-Care (Makes Me Wanna Die),” both songs in and out in under three minutes. Give it up for a band dwelling on their own wavelength, who’ve been hither and yon and are clearly comfortable following where their impulses lead. This kind of creativity is its own endgame. You either appreciate that or it’s your loss.
Even discounting the global pandemic, it feels like an exceptionally long four years since Stockholm’s Snowy Dunes issued their sophomore album, 2017’s Atlantis (review here). “Let’s Save Dreams,” which is the second cut on Sastrugi, was released as a single in 2019 (posted here), so there’s no question the record’s been in the works for a while, but its purposefully split two sides showcase a sound that’s been worth the wait, from the straightforward classic craft of the leadoff title-track to the dug-in semi-psychedelic swing of 11-minute capper “Helios,” the four-piece jamming on modernized retro impulses after dropping hints of prog and space-psych in “Medicinmannen” (9:14) and pushing melancholy heavy blues into shuffle-shove insistence on side A’s organ-laced closer “Great Divide” with duly Sverige soul. Pushes further out as it goes, takes you with it, reminds you why you liked this band so much in the first place, and sounds completely casual in doing all of it.
A threat of tonal weight and a certain rhythmic intensity coincide with dreamy prog melodies in “The Core as a Whole” and “The Calling,” which together lead the way into the self-titled debut from Barcelona, Spain’s Maragda, and an edge of the technical persists despite the wash of “Hermit,” a current perhaps of grunge and metal that’s given something of a rest in the brightness of “Crystal Passage” still to come — more than an interlude at three minutes, but instrumental just the same — after the sharply solo’ed “Orb of Delusion.” Payoff for the burgeoning intensity of the early going arrives in “Beyond the Ruins,” though closer “The Blue Ceiling” enacts some shred to back its Mellotron-y midsection. There’s a balance that will be found or otherwise resisted as Maragda explore the varied nature of their influences — growth to be undertaken, then — but their progressive structures, storytelling mindset and attention to detail here are more than enough to pique interest and make Maragda a welcome addition to the crowded Spanish underground.
Extra super bonus points for Los Angeles heavy noise rockers Killer Hill on naming a song “Bullshit Mountain,” and more extra for leaving the incidental-sounding feedback in too. Frozen Head follows behind 2019’s About a Goat two-songer with six tracks and 22 minutes that pummels on opener “Trash” and its title-track in a niche thick-toned, hardcore-punk born — the band is members of Helmet and Guzzard, so tick your ‘pedigree’ box — and raw, churning metal raised, “Frozen Head” veering into Slayery thrash and deathly churn before evening out in its chorus, such as it does. Sadly, “Laser Head Removal” is instrumental, but the longer trio that follow in “Bent,” the aforementioned “Bullshit Mountain” and the all-go-until-it-isn’t-then-is-again-then-isn’t-again “Re Entry” bask in further intentional cross-genre fuckery with due irreverence and deceptive precision. It sounds like a show you’d go to thinking you were gonna get your ass beat, but nah, everyone’s cool as it turns out.
Distinguished through the gotta-hear-it bass tone of Frik Et that provides grounding presence alongside Luca “Nash” Nasciuti float-ready guitar and the cymbal wash of Enrico Meloni‘s drums, the Genoa, Italy, instrumental three-piece Ikitan make their first offering through Taxi Driver Records with the two-track cassingle Darvaza y Brincle. The outing’s component inclusions run on either side of seven minutes, and the resultant entirety is under 14, but that’s enough to give an impression of where they’re headed after their initial single-song EP, Twenty-Twenty (review here), showed up late last year, with crunch and heavier post-rock drift meeting in particularly cohesive fashion on “Brincle” even as that B-side feels more exploratory than “Darvaza” prior. With some nascent prog stretch in the soloing, the complete narrative of the band’s style has yet to be told, but the quick, encouraging check-in is appreciated. Until next time.
Posted in Whathaveyou on November 15th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
I’m glad The Midnight Ghost Train are even somewhat back together. Will it lead to anything more? I don’t know. You don’t know. But why be greedy? After disbanding in 2018, the band have decided to come back together for a few shows in Europe — one still TBA — with a stop at Freak Valley Festival where so help me robot jeebus I will see them, and other headlining shows thereafter. Whether you’re going to catch them every night or you’re not going to see them at all, isn’t it just worth being happy they’re doing anything? Do we need a new record right now? If it’s gonna happen, let it happen the right way.
That’s my rant on The Midnight Ghost Train‘s reunion, I guess. Didn’t even know I had one until I started typing. Really though, be patient. Majestic Mountain Records has vinyl reissues coming of their first two records and sent the following down the PR wire.
Preorders are, of course, up now:
THE MIDNIGHT GHOST TRAIN Keeps Rollin’ with Reunion Tour and Official Reissues on MAJESTIC MOUNTAIN RECORDS
Majestic Mountain Records – Sweden’s leading purveyors of underground rock, metal, prog, and psychedelia – is thrilled to announce the official rerelease of The Midnight Ghost Train’s self-titled debut, and their 2012 follow-up, Buffalo.
Formed in 2007, somewhere along the interstate between Topeka and New York, the southern rock power trio were an unstoppable force, propelled by big riffs, a wanton wanderlust, and life on the open road.
Over their ten-year reign, The Midnight Ghost Train performed countless shows across the USA and Europe, produced four studio albums, one live album (Live at Roadburn, 2013) and developed a signature sound that drew heavily on gospel, delta blues and stoner rock.
Established by guitarist Steve Moss in tribute to his friend, John Goff, who’d passed away that summer, a recruitment drive landed on the band’s initial line-up in time for their first release, The Johnny Boy EP, which was recorded in early 2008. Experimenting with various genres from heavy rock to psychedelia, it wasn’t until 2009 – following several line-up changes – that the band came into their own with the release of their self-titled debut album. Relocating to Kanas, the trio recorded The Midnight Ghost Train in their home studio and released it themselves. However, criminally, it has never received an official vinyl release. Until now.
‘It’s a real honour for Majestic Mountain Records to be able to reissue both these landmark albums,” says MMR founder, Marco Berg. “The band has always had a tremendous following and their recorded output is untouchable. But to be able to go back and give those first two releases an MMR overhaul will be a treat for everyone. Fans especially.”
Signed to Karate Body Records in 2012 for their follow-up album, Buffalo, the band further showcased their love of delta-blues with a critically successful record that included a rousing a capella take of Leadbelly’s ‘Cotton Fields’. Playing a huge part in their eventual signing to Napalm Records in 2013, Buffalo, much like its predecessor is an indispensable album and a crucial entry into the archives of underground stoner rock.
The band eventually called it quits in 2018 following a decade’s worth of touring alongside the likes of Truckfighters and Karma to Burn and performing at festivals such as HellFest, Roadburn and The Maryland Doom Fest. But next year the ’Train will start rollin’ once again following the band’s recent announcement of a reunion tour across Europe. (See dates below.)
Posted in Reviews on December 14th, 2018 by JJ Koczan
I had a terrible thought yesterday: What if this one… went to 11? That is, what if, after 10 days of Quarterly Review ending today with a grand total of 100 records reviewed since last Monday, I did another batch of 10? Like a bonus round? Like I said, terrible thought.
Pretty sure it won’t happen. I’ve already got a review and a video premiere booked for next Monday, but I definitely had the thought. It was easy, of course, to fill out another 10 slots, and who knows, maybe this weekend for the first time ever I wind up with some extra time and energy on my hands? Could happen, right?
Again, I’m fairly certain it won’t. Let’s proceed with the assumption today’s the last day. Thank you for reading. I hope you have found something cool in all of this that has really hit home. I certainly have. We cap very much in last-but-not-least fashion, and if nothing’s resonated with you yet, don’t count yourself completely out. You might just get there after all. Thanks again.
Quarterly Review #91-100:
Surya Kris Peters, Ego Therapy
Those feeling technical will note the full title of the album is Surya Kris Peters’ Ego Therapy, but the point gets across either way. And even as Christian Peters — also guitarist/vocalist for Samsara Blues Experiment — acknowledges the inherent self-indulgence of the proverbial “solo-project” that his exploration of synth and classically progressive textures under the moniker of Surya Kris Peters has become, with Ego Therapy as his second full-length of 2018, he branches out in including drums from former Terraplane bandmate Jens Vogel. The 10-song/53-minute outing opens with its longest cut (immediate points) in the 15-minute “Angels in Bad Places,” a spaced-out and vibrant atmosphere more cohesive than psychedelia but still trippy as all hell, and moves through a bluesy key/guitar interplay in “Wizard’s Dream” following the dancey thriller soundtrack “Beyond the Sun” and into the Blade Runner-style grandeur of “Sleeping Willow” and the video game-esque “A Fading Spark” before bookending with the sci-fi “Atomic Clock” at the close. I don’t know how ultimately therapeutic Peters‘ solo offerings might be, but he only seems to grow bolder each time out, and that certainly applies here.
How are you not gonna love a release that starts with a song called “Sexadelic Galactic Voyage?” Barcelona vamp rockers Lewis and the Strange Magics embrace their inner funk on the 23-minute self-released EP, The Ginger Sessions, finding the place where their uptempo ’70s fusion meets oldschool The Meters-style rhythm, digging into the repetitions of “Candied Ginger” after the aforementioned instrumental opening burst and then holding the momentum through “Her Vintage Earrings.” Some departure happens on what might be side B of the 10″, with “The Shadow of Your Smile” turning toward pastoral psychedelia, still rhythmic thanks to some prominent wood block and xylophone sounds, but much calmer despite a consistency of wah and keys. “Suzy’s Room II” follows in fuzzy fashion, bridging the earlier cologne-soaked, chest-hair-out vibes with garage buzz and a heavier low end beneath the synthesized experimentation. Mellotron shows up and continues to hold sway in closer “Witch’s Brew,” playing the band outward along with layers of drifting guitar for about two and a half minutes of bluesy serenity that feel cut short, as does the release on the whole. One hopes they don’t lose that funky edge going into their next album.
Once upon the mid-aughts, Chicago’s Lair of the Minotaur roamed the land as the long-prophesied American answer to Entombed, as much classic, dirt-covered death metal as they were laden with heavy groove. Their tones filthy, their assault brutal all the while, war metal, ultimate destroyers. The whole nine. They released their last album, Evil Power (review here), in 2010. The two-songer Dragon Eagle of Chaos follows a 2013 single, and was released to mark the occasion of perhaps a return to some measure of greater activity. I don’t know if that’ll happen, but as both “Dragon Eagle of Chaos” and “Kunsult the Bones” affirm in about seven minutes between them, Lair of the Minotaur remain a wrecking ball made of raw meat when it comes to their sound. The madness that seemed to always underline their material at its most effective is present and accounted for in “Dragon Eagle of Chaos,” and the stripped-down production of the single actually helps its violent cause. Will they do another record? Could go either way, but if they decide to go that route, they clearly still have the evil power within.
Eight tracks/34 minutes of smoothly-arranged and well-executed doom rock brought to bear with an abiding lack of pretense and a developing sense of songcraft and dynamic — there’s very little not to dig about Sonic Wolves‘ self-titled LP (on Future Noise and DHU), from the Sabbathian stretch of “Ascension” down through the bouncing low-key-psych-turns-to-full-on-wah-overdose-swirl in the penultimate “Heavy Light.” Along the way, bassist/vocalist Kayt Vigil (ex-Pentagram, etc.) — joined by guitarists Jason Nealy and Enrico “Ico” Aniasi and drummer Gianni “Vita” Vitarelli (also Ufomammut) — gallop through the traditional metal of “Red Temple” and ride a fuzzy roll in “Tide of Chaos,” leaving the uptempo shuffle of “You’ll Climb the Walls” to close out by tapping into a “Wicked World”-style vision of heavy blues that casts off many of the tropes of what’s become the subgenre in favor of a darker approach. If their self-titled is Sonic Wolves declaring who they are as a band after making their debut in 2016, the results are only encouraging.
There is an immediate sensibility drawn from classic heavy rock to the vocals on Spacelord‘s second record, Indecipher, like Shannon Hoon fronting Led Zeppelin, maybe? Something like that, definitely drawn from a ’70s/’90s blend. Produced, mixed and mastered by guitarist Rich Root, with Chris Cappiello on bass, Kevin Flynn on drums and Ed Grabianowski on vocals, the four-piece’s sophomore LP is comprised of a neatly-constructed eight songs working around sci-fi themes on bruiser cuts like “Super Starship Adventure” and the particularly righteous “Zero Hour,” as opener and longest track (immediate points) “For the Unloved Ones” sets forth the classic vibe amid the first of the record’s impressive solos and resonant hooks. Something about it makes me want them to go completely over the top in terms of production their next time out — layers on layers on layers, etc. — but the kind of false start Grabianowski brings to the ultra-Zepped “New Machine” has a charm that I’m not sure it would be worth sacrificing.
Six years after the release of their second album, The Wait (review here), Finnish atmospheric progressive metallers Nauticus effect a return with the 78-minute Disappear in Blue, which following the relatively straightforward opening with “Magma” casts out a vast sprawl in accordance with its oceanic theme. Longer tracks like “Claimed by the Sea,” “Strange Sequences/Lost Frequencies,” “Arrival” and “Hieronymus” are complex and varied but united through a deep instrumental dynamic that’s brought to light even in the three-minute ambient post-rocker “Desolation,” which is something of an interlude between “Strange Sequences/Lost Frequencies” and the tense build of “Singularity.” Other ambient spaces “Jesus of Lübeck” and the later “Whale Bones” complement and add reach to the longer-form works, but it’s hardly as though Nauticus‘ material lacks character one way or the other. Overwhelming in its length, Disappear in Blue might take some time to wade through, but what a way to go.
As the greater part of anything related to post-metal invariably does, UK outfit Yuxa have their “Stones from the Sky” moment in “Founder in Light,” the opening cut from their self-titled debut EP, that most formative of progressions making itself known in modified form to suit the double-guitar four-piece’s intent with dramatic screams and shouts cutting through an ably-conjured surge of noisy adrenaline resolving in winding chug and crash en route to “Exiled Hand,” the seven-minute cut that follows and serves as centerpiece of the three-tracker. “Founder in Light,” “Exiled Hand” and nine-minute closer “Peer” are arranged shortest to longest, and the effect is to draw the listener in such that by the time the angular, purposeful lurch of the finale begins to unfold, Yuxa‘s rhythmic hypnosis is already well complete. Still, the straightforward arrangements of guitar, bass, drums and vocals give them a rawer edge than many synth- or sample-laden post-metallic cohorts, and that suits the atmospheric sludge with which they close out, harnessing chaos without giving themselves over to it. A quick sample of a creative development getting underway, though it’s telling as well that Yuxa ends with a sudden buzz of amp noise.
The first EP release from Forktie — who stylize their moniker and titles all-lowercase: forktie — is untitled, but contains five tracks that tap into proto-emo post-hardcore and ’90s alt rock sensibilities, finding a place between heavy rock and grunge that allows for Aarone Victorine‘s bass to lead toward the hook of centerpiece “Decomposition Book” with a smooth presence that’s well complementary the vocals from guitarist Dom Mariano, their presence low in the mix only adding to the wistful feel of “Anywhere but Here” and “September Morning,” before the shorter “Spores” lets loose some more push from drummer Corey LeBlanc and closer “Ph.D. in Nothing” reinforces the underlying melancholy beneath the thicker exterior tones. It’s a new project, but Forktie have worked their way into a niche that suits their songwriting well, and given themselves a space to grow within their sound. Members experience in bands like UXO, Test Meat and textbookcopilot will serve them in that effort.
As a fan generally of bands opening albums with the longest song included, I can get on board with UK heavy progressive metallers Ohhms opening Exist with the 22-minute “Subjects.” Immediate points and all that. Far more consequential, however, is the substance of that launch for the four-song/43-minute Holy Roar LP, which is the band’s fourth in four years. It’s a vast, broad and complex offering unto itself, consuming side A as vocalist Paul Waller embodies various entities, “I am wolf” (preceding a Duran Duran reference, perhaps inadvertent), “I am child,” and so on. Those proclamations are just the culmination of a progression that, frankly, is an album unto itself, let alone a side, and maybe should’ve been released as such, though the absolute post-metallic crush of “Shambles,” the seething of “Calves” and the heavy post-rock reach of “Lay Down Your Firearms” need no further justification than a simple listen provides, the last of them pummeling side B to a then-sudden stop. Ohhms are no strangers to longform work, and it suits them well enough to make one wonder if they couldn’t be headed toward a single-song LP in the near future.
Chicago four-piece Blue Dream issued their first LP, Volume Won, early in 2018 and follow with Volume Blue — as opposed to “two”; could ‘Volume Tree’ be in the works? ‘Volume Free?’ — which collects nine neo-psych-mit-der-funky-grooves cuts chic enough to be urbane but fuzzed out enough to make the freakouts more than just a come on. They open peaceful enough with “Delta,” before the hook of “9,000 lb. Machine” defines the course and cuts like “Thank You for Smoking” and the almost woefully catchy “She’s Hot” expand the parameters. I’ll take the dream-tone shimmer of “Kingsbury Goldmine” any day in a kind of self-aware reflection of British folk and/or the garage rock of “Shake the Shake,” but the dense roll of “Viper Venom” that immediately follows reimagines grunge as more than just an influence from three popular bands and something that could genuinely move forward from the perspective of a new generation. Hearing Blue Dream close out with the boogie of “The Glide,” one hopes they do precisely that, though I’d by no means limit them to one avenue of expression. They’re clearly able to harness multiple vibes here.
Posted in Reviews on January 6th, 2016 by JJ Koczan
Well, this is where we hit and pass the halfway point. It’s been a good week so far. Busy, but good. I hope you’ve found something that you dig or agree with or whatnot. I know it’s kind of hard to dig through 10 releases at once, but even if you see cover art that strikes a nerve, going with that impulse is rarely a bad idea, particularly when the level of commitment involved is clicking play on a Bandcamp player to get a taste. Pretty wide range today, so let’s dig in.
Quarterly review #21-30:
Corrections House, Know How to Carry a Whip
Since they made their debut as a unit in 2013 with Last City Zero (also on Neurot), the don’t-call-it-a-supergroup Corrections House – vocalist Mike Williams (Eyehategod), guitarist/vocalist Scott Kelly (Neurosis), saxophonist/vocalist Bruce Lamont (Yakuza, Bloodiest) and programmer Sanford Parker (Buried at Sea) – have spread their bleak gospel of totalitarian industrial vehemence to audiences in the US and Europe. Their second offering, Know How to Carry a Whip, is bolder sound-wise and retains a very human, punk rock core with Williams’ sneer playing off Kelly’s gutturalism on “White Man’s Gonna Lose” and nearly goes goth in doing the same with Lamont in the later “When Push Comes to Shank,” but across the 45-minute span, the songs remain in the key of abrasion, and ultimately that’s what most unites them. As noisy as closer “Burn the Witness” gets, I can’t help but think of the acoustic, Lamont-led centerpiece “Visions Divide” as the bleakest moment of the record, twisting folkish conventions into a dystopian soundscape, but Williams’ spoken drug-poetry on “I was Never Good at Meth” provides stiff competition.
Lush in its arrangements and doling out extreme measures of melancholy across its 56 minutes, Antimatter’s sixth album, The Judas Table (on Prophecy Productions), brings sonic depth to bear in rich textures of electric and acoustic guitars, keys, and the strength-through-fragility vocals of remaining founder and songwriter Mick Moss. The group’s last offering, 2012’s Fear of a Unique Identity (review here), pushed them into fuller tones, and an early cut like “Killer” builds on that, but the crux of The Judas Table is in subdued and brooding pieces like “Little Piggy,” remorseful and seething in kind as it moves through an acoustic-led arrangement marked out by strings and a sense of grace. “Integrity” asks the question, “What’s the point if no one else has any?” and sets a depressive run through one of the record’s grader builds, but Antimatter are hardly contained to one style here, as the New Wave inflection on “Can of Worms” or the rumbling apex of highlight “Stillborn Empires” demonstrate.
Not to be confused with their Swedish countrymen who operated under the same moniker and whose lineup included a post-and-pre-Candlemass Messiah Marcolin, Stockholm’s Colossus play a decidedly progressive blend of Peaceville-style doom and metal, the trio of guitarist/vocalist Niklas Eriksson, bassist Peter Berg and drummer Thomas Norstedt adding a near-immediate inflection toward the epic via Primordial-style vocal patterning on opener “Yehi Aour/Wanderers” that holds for much of their 48-minute sophomore outing, The Breathing World (on Perennity Records). “Darkling Root” and more so the chugging “Fuga Mundi” delve into blackened fare in the guitar, but it’s just one of an array of genres in Colossus’ arsenal and in the case of the latter, soon enough complemented by Opethian prog noodling and soulful vocalizing. These turns, which more often than not happen in an instant, are a great strength of The Breathing World, but would fall flat without the crisp, confident delivery the band provides leading to the grand sprawl and long fade of 10-minute closer, “The Silent City.”
One thing we’ve learned about Twin Earth Records thus far into the long-established label’s recent surge of activity is that it knows tone when it hears it. Thus comes treading Bastard Lord out of Buffalo, New York, whose four-song self-titled debut was initially self-released and remastered for a CD issue, rumble-fuzzing a murky Sabbath worship that oozes from the amps of bassist/vocalist David Braymiller and guitarist Mike Hermann – hard to tell at times in 13-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “Cimmerian” where the one instrument ends and the other begins – and set to a suitable plod by Jeremy Coupe’s drumming. It’s little surprise when they pay homage to “Snowblind” in “Wormwood,” but the psychedelic edge in Braymiller’s vocals – drowned in effects, buried in the mix; both appropriately so – gives Bastard Lord a personality of its own the holds even into the faster closer “Into the Sea,” a Toner Low-style lysergic depth unflinching through that song and “Summoner” before it as Bastard Lord emerge from the mire with their intentions clear.
One might be forgiven for entering into Monocluster’s self-titled, self-released debut album with an expectation for traditional stoner rock, between the band’s moniker and album cover – and if that’s what came through in playing the 35-minute, five-track outing, I very likely wouldn’t complain – but the German-language four-piece subtly veer into and out of spacier interludes in cuts like “Dantes Inferno” and “8 Stunden” and the later “Ich Atme” pushes even further along those lines, jamming out vast and echoing over a foundational bassline that holds the track together before it stops outright and resurfaces with Monocluster’s most righteous single nod. Centerpiece “Straße” demonstrates a touch of Colour Haze influence as well, but on the whole the Cologne four-piece seem headed in a different direction, and as the 10-minute closer “12 Minuten” ranges farther and heavier than everything before it, I’m only more intrigued to find out where they might end up. Heavy psych that’s not afraid to tighten up and make a more pointed impact when it feels one is needed.
I have two reasons for writing a review of Valley’s Sunburst EP, and they are both ridiculously simple. Yes, the Swedish five-piece were featured in two podcasts (one here, one here) and mentioned in the roundup of 2015’s best short releases – however, reviewing Sunburst now gives me another excuse to put it back on and it gives me something to fall back to later when I’m praising the crap out of whatever they do next and want to link a past review. Simple reasons. If you haven’t yet heard the 2015 debut outing from the Stockholm post-heavy rock instrumentalists, basked in the warm, organic psychedelia of “Tunguska” and “Kiro” or the peaceful folk-jam of “Dream Shooter, Golden!” and the tense-and-release percussion and sample-topped progressive course of “Picture Puzzle Pattern Door,” then you have quite simply missed out. I’m sure plenty have and plenty more will liken it to a desert sound – in no small part because of the cover art – but the smooth melodicism goes beyond landscape here and is made to be appreciated regardless of climate or locale.
An edge of Northeastern aggression is unmistakable at the core of Shatner’s 20-minute self-released six-track EP. Based in Boston, the tree-piece boasts guitarist/vocalist Jim Healey (Black Thai, We’re all Gonna Die), bassist/backing vocalist Jesse Sherman (We’re all Gonna Die) and drummer Rob Davol (Cocked ‘n’ Loaded), and so a touch of anger isn’t unexpected given the personnel – even Healey’s acoustic work has brooding tension underlying – but if “Special” and “Black Market Liver” are variations on an ongoing theme, they’re of consistent quality in terms of songwriting, and the Thin Lizzy cover “Bad Reputation” is positioned well just past the halfway point to add variety amid a slew of potent hooks. Not their first time working together, but Healey and Sherman’s voices complement each other well on “Dead in Your Eyes” and “Death Reheated,” and with the solid foundation that Davol provides throughout, Shatner’s EP is an encouraging start to what’s hopefully an ongoing development.
Harvested, sometimes manipulated samples and synthesized textures permeate Notturno, the mostly-instrumental second album from Italian atmospheric project Australasia. Comprised solely of Gian Spalluto, it’s somewhat more surprising that songs like the cascading “Lumen” and “Kern” are able to conjure such full-band progressions, but layering was bound to be a factor one way or another in Australasia’s approach, so if it’s Spalluto’s vision at play, so be it. Sonically, the impression of much of the material – including the guest-vocalized centerpiece “Invisibile” – winds up somewhere between the dystopian ambience of Red Sparowes and the brighter aspirations of post-black metallers Alcest, but songs like “Haxo” and the closing title-track, a (mostly) solo piano piece, have a cinematic edge as well. Rather than play one side against the other, Spalluto brings them together in one overarching flow that engages conceptually and sonically throughout a nine-track/39-minute course that willfully refuses to acknowledge a line between post-rock and post-metal.
Synth ambience and distorted severity meet head-on with the second full-length from Swedish post-metallers The Moth Gatherer, The Earth is the Sky (on AgoniaRecords). Produced over a two-year span with Karl Daniel Lidén (Greenleaf, VAKA, etc.), it punishes intensely on “The Black Antlers” with no less underlying fluidity than it had on the quietly atmospheric “Dyatlov Pass” preceding, the four-piece of bassist/vocalist Alex Stjernfeldt, guitarist/vocalist/programmer Victor Wegeborn, guitarist Ronny Westphal and drummer Svante Karlsson finding a place sound-wise that swaps between peaceful and threatening, delving into extreme progressive metal and electronica in kind on “Attacus Atlas” while setting up the consuming, gradual push of 11-minute closer “In Awe Before the Rapture,” which seems in conversation with the synth of the earlier “Probing the Descent of Man” in creating a layered structure of sound, while also attempting to marry the various impulses displayed throughout. Familiar to a degree, but immersive in its bringing earth and sky together.
You might wonder just what kind of neighborhood it is that would pair “The House that Dripped Blood” next door to “House of Warlocks” – perhaps that street is on the “Island of Lost Souls” – but then you probably wouldn’t get the crux of Memphis heavy punk foursome Super Witch’s debut full-length, Super Witch Has Risen, which has tales of horror front to back, “Spaceship Cadillac” notwithstanding. The Tennessean outfit dip into garage grunge on “Night of the Hunter” and stomp out call and response and Melvins chug on on “The Need,” show some more patient swing on “Smash Your Own Face,” but it’s “Army of Werewolves” and the opening “Super Witch Has Risen” that tell the story of the band’s intent more than the semi-swirl of “Smash Your Own Face” or the all-the-way swirl of closer “With the Lights Out,” as satisfying as the closer is in pulling off a rare feat – psychedelic punk. Split between two recording sessions, there are some changes in sound throughout, but it would take a supernatural force to derail Super Witch from their underlying purpose.
Issued in July 1973, the sophomore outing from Aussie heavy rockers Buffalo falls right between Deep Purple‘s Who Do We Think We Are? (Jan.) and Black Sabbath‘s Sabbath Bloody Sabbath (Dec.), and when it comes to Volcanic Rock itself, that’s not a bad way to think about where it was coming from generally. The Sydney-based band formed in 1971 and released their debut, Dead Forever, in 1972, and so missed out on taking part in the barrage of self-titled offerings that showed up in the few years prior, 1970-’71 serving as a nexus point from which heavy rock and roll still seems to be expanding. Still, if they were a little behind the times, Volcanic Rock is no less sincere than any of its 1971 counterpart offerings from gritty rockers like Atomic Rooster, Cactus or countless others. If anything, Buffalo are harder-edged from the start of the propulsive “Sunrise (Come My Way)” through the epic proto-metal finish of “Pound of Flesh/Shylock.” Led by John Baxter‘s guitar and with Dave Tice‘s bluesy vocals, Buffalo represent much of the best of their era, and if the fact that Volcanic Rock showed up two years later means anything in the long run, it means the band’s time was well spent in making it.
To wit, the lurching groove of the nine-minute “Freedom” is an absolute high point, swinging and patient with Jimmy Economou‘s drums and Peter Wells‘s bass. It would be easy for this song and any number of others to fall into post-Led Zeppelin theatric posturing, but it never quite does. Instead, it captures a dead-on nod-jam that sets the tone for some of what “Shylock” will offer later on before giving way to “Till My Death,” in which one can hear the seeds of what Judas Priest would soon enough turn into classic metal. Through that track and “The Prophet,” which thickens up hard-blues grooves and plays off a traditional American gospelism, Buffalo cast an identity for themselves that remains resonant to this day, their methods simply burlier and more roughed up than a lot of heavy rock was and would become as it continued to grow under a progressive influence. Buffalo had their own path, and after Volcanic Rock — the bizarre cover art of which is discussed here — they would continue down it with 1974’s Only Want You for Your Body, 1976’s Mother’s Choice and their final album, 1977’s Average Rock ‘n’ Roller, all through Vertigo Records.
As will happen with this kind of thing, there are numerous editions of the album in existence. I don’t know from which the bonus tracks included in the video above are culled, but whatever. The record itself ends after “Shylock” at 37:25. If you want to push beyond that into the rest, that’s cool too. None of it sucks.
Hope you enjoy.
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Quiet start to the New Year, all things considered. I knew it was midnight last night when someone down the way started setting off fireworks. I was still up, but kind of lost in the process of putting together the Year-End Poll Results that went up earlier today. The Patient Mrs. was already asleep. Guess I wasn’t paying attention. Happy New Year.
Also woke up early this morning to finish laying out images, players and links and to start writing the Quarterly Review, which starts next week and of which I got a pathetic amount done between the hours of seven this morning and one this afternoon. I’ll get it done. It’ll be fine. I’m not gonna stress about it (yes I am), or the La Chinga full-album stream that’s slated for Monday, or any of the news posts I’m already behind on (Graveyard playing Freak Valley, etc.). Why stress? Why get upset?
Oh right, because I’m compulsive.
So anyway, yeah, next week is the Quarterly Review. 50 albums written up across Monday to Friday, 10 per day. Since I’m counting it as the end of a quarter of 2015 even though we’re into 2016 already, that will make 200 records covered this year under that format. Next one should be at the end of March/early April, depending on how I can time it with going to Roadburn. Let me get through this one first. Then I’ll start on the next.
The Quarterly Review will eat up a good portion of the week’s posts, but where and when I see news, videos, audio, whatever else there might be, I’ll get as much of it in as I can. That’s the deal around here anyway.
One more time before I sign off for the weekend: Happy New Year and thanks to everybody who took part in the Year-End Poll. At some point this month I’ll have a list up of albums to look forward to in 2016. Last I checked, I was over 100 names. No idea how I’m going to organize it yet, but I will. Gotta see if I can write Mars Red Sky and Neurosis in extra-big letters.
Have a great and safe weekend, and please check out the forum and radio stream.
