Posted in Whathaveyou on May 15th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
About two weeks ago I closed out the week with Moab‘s 2018 third album, Trough (discussed here), and got word on social media that that band’s guitarist/vocalist Andrew Giacumakis and Brad Davis, bassist of Fu Manchu, had a new project coming out together. Hello, Gods of Sometimes. There was a snippet on Instagram of “In the End,” which is the song you can hear at the bottom of this post, and not much else to go on, but the Lennon/McCartney vibe in the track — plus a guitar solo from J. Mascis — is palpable in the melody and bouncing rhythm, and as a sucker for, well, really all of it, I’m excited at the prospect of the duo’s impending debut full-length, apparently set to release this summer.
The song speaks for itself with a lush melody and easy roll that reminds of when psych-pop and psych-rock weren’t so necessarily opposed, and I remember very well how excellent a match it was when Giacumakis produced Fu Manchu‘s 2014 album, Gigantoid (review here), which would seem to have set this collaboration in motion. If “In the End” is representative of the record as a whole, it should be just about perfect for release under the summer sun.
Dig:
GODS OF SOMETIMES (FU MANCHU/MOAB) Make Their Debut With “In The End” (Feat J. MASCIS)
Southern California alt-indie rock duo GODS OF SOMETIMES has unveiled their first single, “In The End” (featuring J. Mascis of revered rock pioneers DINOSAUR JR.), today. The two-piece, consisting of bassist Brad Davis (FU MANCHU) and guitarist/vocalist Andrew Giacumakis (MOAB), deliver mesmerizing folk tinged space rock on their first outing; a taste of what’s to come from their first album due out this summer.
Commenting on the song, Davis says:
“When the song “In The End” came together we saw it as an opportunity to give a nod to The Beatles. One of our big musical influences. We had the luck of being graced by a guest guitar solo from another big influence. J Mascis did us the favor of lending his talents. His style of reckless melody brought things to a new level. Although it’s called “In The End” we felt it was the best song to put out first!”
About GODS OF SOMETIMES:
Brad Davis (bassist for Fu Manchu) and Andrew Giacumakis (guitarist/vocalist for Moab) met in the studio in the mid-2010’s while working on Fu Manchu’s “Gigantoid” (2014) and “Clone of the Universe” (2018). Andrew served as a recording engineer/producer for the records and the two multi-instrumentalists quickly developed a friendship and discovered a mutual love of mellower music outside the realm of the heavy genres they both worked in. They decided to make an album together.
Brad Davis – drums, bass, (some guitar and vocals) Andrew Giacumakis – vocals, guitar, mellotron, (some drums and bass)
Posted in Bootleg Theater on November 25th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Fu Manchu are one of the greatest heavy rock bands of all time. Pick your era, doesn’t matter. They hold up against the nascent hard distorted blues of the ’70s, the post-grunge stonerism of the ’90s in which they came up in surf-happy San Clemente, California, and, well, they’ve had a hand in influencing all things riffy since, so yeah, that too. Their tenure as Fu Manchu marked its 30th anniversary in 2020 — timing is everything — and in addition to a return to touring post-covid, they’ve had two EPs out thus far to celebrate. So on top of their already established legacy in classics like 1996’s In Search Of…, 1997’s The Action is Go (discussed here) and 1999’s King of the Road (discussed here) — I’ll argue vehemently in favor of their first two records and their Century Media eras as well — they’re still adding to it. Their latest long-player was 2018’s Clone of the Universe (review here), which was both a burner that ticked all the boxes one would hope, and in what was surely a career highlight for the band, featured a guest appearance from Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson on the 18-minute finale “Il Mostro Atomico.”
At the time, three years between full-lengths was a pretty long time for Fu Manchu, but as they went from 2001’s California Crossing to 2004’s Start the Machine, they were in something of a transitional moment. That included parting ways with then-drummer Brant Bjork (Kyuss, now Stöner, etc.) and bringing in Scott Reeder (not to be confused with the bassist of the same name) to fill the role and signing with DRT Records after releasing the momentum-keeper Go for It… Live! through SPV in 2003. They’d worked with labels like Mammoth Records, Man’s Ruin and Bong Load for earlier albums, and as I recall DRT had some pretty decent distribution — Maryland’s Clutch were with them as well before a fallout, as well as several more commercial outfits — so it was something of an arrival for a band who, heading into their eighth album, were already veterans.
Start the Machine is about as clean and tight a Fu Manchu record as you’ll find. Not one of its 12 songs reaches the four minutes in length, and the 35-minute entirety is sharp in its execution and deceptively full in tone, the trademark fuzz of guitarists Scott Hill (also vocals) and Bob Balch and bassist/backing vocalist Brad Davis carried forth across material that could feel moderately paced but remained inherently loyal to Fu Manchu‘s punker roots while boasting maddeningly catchy hooks in songs like opener “Written in Stone,” “Hey,” “Make Them Believe,” “Today’s Too Soon,” “It’s All the Same,” and so on. As regards songwriting and the general efficiency of their work, Start the Machine wanted for nothing. Listening to it now, the band sound not only like they haven’t lost a step at all for the shift in lineup, but like they’re mature craftsmen of heavy rock and roll looking to expand their reach with a collection of killer songs. Kind of the ideal, right?
If you’re waiting for the ‘but,’ fair enough. Start the Machine is arguably the most maligned of Fu Manchu‘s records. And to put that to scale, I’ll say that anyFu Manchu album is better than, say, not a Fu Manchu album, but if you’re making a list in order of preference — a poll I’d love to conduct, just for the sheer nerdery of it — there’s little doubt Start the Machine would appear somewhere near the bottom. Part of that is an inevitable shift in trend and generational transition as some followers from the ’90s aged out and a new audience came up with a new expectation of what heavy rock was supposed to be — the times a-changing, and so forth — and part of it as well is probably down to the production of Brian Dobbs, who’d spent the better part of the decade prior working as an engineer with mega-producer Bob Rock on releases from the likes of Metallica, The Cult, AC/DC and Mötley Crüe, none of whom at that point were kicking out career highlights.
I refuse outright to ascribe motivations to either the band or the label involved — which is to say I won’t be calling Fu Manchu sellouts for working with a bigtime producer — and in the rager shove of “I Can’t Hear You,” the familiar start-stop declarations of “I’m Getting Away” and the twisting groove of the penultimate low-key melodic highlight “Tunnel Vision,” one can hear trademark elements of what has always made the band who they are, righteously reliable in songwriting and performance but able to break their own rules when they choose to do so. It’s spit-polished — and if you’re perhaps looking for some sense of the band’s feelings about it, one might put on the band’s 2007 outing, We Must Obey (discussed here), which is their biggest-sounding, maybe their hardest-hitting record as well — but there’s a lot, a lot, a lot to dig about Start the Machine, counter to its reputation.
So is this the part where I remind you that, hey, this record came out 18 years ago and maybe it’s worth checking in on again — perhaps digging into the band’s 2011 reissue with bonus demos, if you’re feeling saucy — to see how kind time has been to it? Hell yes it is. Because I’ll happily posit that time has been kind to Start the Machine, and while Fu Manchu‘s catalogue may have other, insurmountable landmarks — a few of them, and not all early in their career — this record deserves more love than it’s gotten in the past. California Crossing was a tough act to follow, but they did it in a way that now stands as a record unto itself in their discography and its songs have value even beyond their raw earwormness, prevalent though that is.
If nothing else. If you’ve read this and made it this far without clicking/pressing play above, take this as a sign that you should listen to some Fu Manchu today, and really, while you’re here, what’s the worst that can happen? “Written in Stone” gets stuck in your head? It’s been in mine for days now and you don’t hear me complaining.
As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.
—
Well, I’m home. Have to wonder if, had I not put up a post saying I was traveling, anyone would’ve noticed. It was pretty light on posts this week, but with the Thanksgiving holiday here in the US anyway. We — The Patient Mrs., The Pecan and I — were in Sayulita, Mexico, for a couple days to celebrate the wedding of a couple with whom we’ve been friends for well over 15 years. Used to get drunk in their garage, now they’re small business owners and killing it at life generally. Trip was ups and downs as regards stress level, as anything involving a five year old will be, but lil dude took a surfing lesson AND sat on my lap while we drove a golf cart through the streets of town, The Patient Mrs. got to stock up on warmth as we head into winter (that’s how it works, right?) and I still had time to write and post, so everybody got what they needed from it. We even got ripped off by a cop on the side of the road after running a red light. $60 cash, paid in an alley so fewer people would see. A quintessential tourist experience, I’d say. He was like “we’ll go to the station where there are fewer people” and I was like, “no, if you’re going to rob me I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The wedding itself was interesting. First one I’ve been to in a while. It was gorgeous, on a mountaintop, and because of the ‘destination’ nature, there weren’t a ton of people there. I spent most of my time chasing around The Pecan, which suits me just fine. He needs to be occupied or it’s all over, and that usually means motion (or reading, which is nice, but we didn’t bring books and it barely occurred to me to use a digital reader). The Patient Mrs. did most of the social labor, which is basically how it goes. And that is deeply appreciated, even beyond her organization of the rest of the trip, our lodgings, and so forth.
I find that as time goes on I have less and less to say to people, even in an obviously friendly situation like that. It turns out that perhaps having spent the last 14 years wholly immersed in ONE THING in terms of life focus limits one’s ability to engage in other things. Who’d’ve thought, right? I know. And since there are maybe 30,000 humans worldwide max who are conversant in the ways of Heavy, that means that I’m just kind of out there feeling out of place most of the time. In the end, I was grateful to have the kid to keep focused on. Used to be I just got plastered in situations like that. I can’t honestly endorse one approach over the other. My knee mostly held up as well, so that was a relief.
But it was what it was, a gorgeous day in a gorgeous place, so let’s do the math and reason that my lack of fit in paradise is more about my inner ugliness than anything else related to the circumstance. It was an event filled with cool, nice, people. I just don’t seem to belong anywhere that isn’t this couch or standing in front of a stage being blasted with volume. Also bed.
We got home last night after midnight and I slept until about 6:45. The Pecan woke up shortly after seven (unheard of) and The Patient Mrs. emerged from the bedroom at 8AM sharp. Today is errands and chores, unpacking, laundry, etc., and grocery shopping for the Thanksgiving dinner we’re hosting for family tomorrow. That will be good. I’m glad to be able to do things like that.
If you celebrated Thanksgiving, I hope it was a good one. My travels this week underscored for me America’s ongoing colonialist history, white people being generally terrible, etc., but the actual celebrating of the holiday is among my preferred. A meal with people you love. Could be far worse, even if the narrative behind it — ‘first Thanksgiving’ and all that — is, in the parlance of our times, full on cringe.
Next week is what passes for normal around here, with more premieres slated and this and that. I could look at the notes and list it all if you want? I know Monday is a Pia Isa video premiere that was set up a while ago, and the rest of the week is likewise rad. On a day dedicated to celebrating base commerce, I feel less inclined to plug my own shit, even if it doesn’t involve money exchanging hands. Sometimes I feel like promotion cheapens us all.
On that happy note, here’s a reminder that Gimme Metal airs a new ‘The Obelisk Show’ today at 5PM Eastern. Free to stream on their app or site: http://gimmemetal.com.
Thanks if you check that out and thanks either way for reading. Have a great and safe weekend. Hydrate, watch your head, try to dig your situation if you can. Love if and when you can.
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 26th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
A few different tours coming together here, right? Stoned Jesus, Greenleaf and Somali Yacht Club on the road together. Elder, Pallbearer and Irist. Hippie Death Cult out there on their own now that their would’ve-been-tourmates High Reeper dropped off. Naxatras making the rounds. Sasquatch doing like they do on a stretch with Orange Goblin before continuing a longer European run (you should always stretch first; ain’t nobody getting younger). Electric Citizen out with Fu Manchu. All of this is organized, mapped out ahead of time, and a lot of it is starting this weekend at Up in Smoke 2022 in Pratteln, Switzerland, as though to save you the time, money and effort necessary to hit up all these individual tours, which may or may not be routed everywhere to start with.
You can see the final lineup below with Fu Manchu, Orange Goblin and Elder getting top billing, and as the first of Sound of Liberation‘s Fall festivals in Europe — Keep it Low in Munich and Desertfest Belgium will follow in the coming weeks, and there’s a bunch of others besides — Up in Smoke is distinguished by vibe even more than timing. I’ve always been curious what it would feel like to sleep in the venue after a show. Indoor camping. Are there showers? Could be a pretty smelly affair by the third day; Up in Stink Lines, if you will. But more about the mindset. Are you so locked into the experience at that point that you wake up, find breakfast and are ready to roll as a part of the thing? I’m not sure I’d ever actually be brave enough to do it — not exactly the camping type in any context — but it could be interesting. Sound of Liberation has also posted the time-table, if you’d like to know more about what time to wake up.
The lineup below is final final final, and the day splits make it look like one hell of a festival. If you’re going to be there, I hope it’s a blast. I’d love to hear about it:
UP IN SMOKE 2022 – DAY SPLIT & DAY TICKETS – UP IN SMOKE FESTIVAL Z7 Pratteln 2022
Posted in Reviews on September 20th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Day two of the Fall 2022 Quarterly Review brings a fresh batch of 10 releases en route to the total 100 by next Friday. Some of this is brand new, some of it is older, some of it is doom, some is rock, some is BongBongBeerWizards, and so on. Sometimes these things get weird, and I guess that’s where it’s at for me these days, but you’re going to find plenty of ground to latch onto despite that. Wherever you end up, I hope you’re digging this so far half as much as I am. Much love as always as we dive back in.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Fu Manchu, Fu30 Pt. 2
Like everyone’s everything in the era, Fu Manchu‘s 30th anniversary celebration didn’t go as planned, but with their Fu30 Pt. 2 three-songer, they give 2020’s Fu30 Pt. 1 EP (posted here) the sequel its title implied and present two originals and one cover in keeping with that prior release’s format. Tracked in 2021, “Strange Plan” and the start-stop-riffed “Low Road” are quintessential works of Fu fuzz, so SoCal they’re practically in Baja, and bolstered by the kinds of grooves that have held the band in good stead with listeners throughout these three-plus decades. “Strange Plan” is more aggressive in its shove, but perhaps not so confrontational as the cover of Surf Punks‘ 1980 B-side “My Wave,” a quaint bit of surferly gatekeeping with the lines, “Go back to the Valley/And don’t come back,” in its chorus. As they will with their covers, the four-piece from San Clemente bring the song into their own sound rather than chase down trying to sound like Reagan-era punk, and that too is a method well proven on the part of the band. If you ever believed heavy rock and roll could be classic, Fu Manchu are that, and for experienced heads who’ve heard them through the years as they’ve tried different production styles, Fu30 Pt. 2 finds an effective middle ground between impact and mellow groove.
Not so much a pendulum as a giant slaughterhouse blade swinging from one side to the other like some kind of horrific grandfather clock, Valborg pull out all the industrial/keyboard elements from their sound and strip down their songwriting about as far as it will go on Der Alte, the 13-track follow-up to 2019’s Zentrum (review here) and their eighth album overall since 2009. Accordingly, the bone-cruncher pummel in cuts like “Kommando aus der Zukunft” and the shout-punky centerpiece “Hektor” is furious and raw. I’m not going to say I hope they never bring back the other aspects of their sound, but it’s hard not to appreciate the directness of the approach on Der Alte, on which only the title-track crosses the four-minute mark in runtime (it has a 30 second intro; such self-indulgence!), and their sound is still resoundingly their own in tone and the throaty harsh vocals on “Saturn Eros Xenomorph” and “Hoehle Hoelle” and the rest across the album’s intense, largely-furious-but-still-not-lacking-atmosphere span. If it was another band, you might call it death metal. As it stands, Der Alte is just Valborg, distilled to their purest and meanest form.
2022 is probably a good year to put out a record based around Frank Herbert’s Dune universe (the Duniverse?), what with the gargantuan feature film last year and another one coming at some point as blah blah franchise everything, but Montreal four-piece Sons of Arrakis have had at least some of the songs on Volume I in the works for the better part of four years, guitarists Frédéric Couture (also vocals) and Francis Duchesne (also keys) handling recording for the eight-song/30-minute outing with Vick Trigger on bass and Eliot Landry on drums locking in tight grooves pushing all that sci-fi and fuzz along at a pace that one only wishes the movie had shared. I’ve never read Dune, which is only relevant information here because Volume I doesn’t leave me feeling out of the loop as “Temple of the Desert” locks in quintessential stoner rock janga-janga shuffle and “Lonesome Preacher” culminates in twisty fuzz that should well please fans of Valley of the Sun before bleeding directly and smoothly into the melodic highlight “Abomination” in a way that, to me at least, bodes better for their longer term potential than whatever happenstance novelty of subject matter surrounds. There’s plenty of Dune out there if they want to stick to the theme, but songwriting like this could be about brushing your teeth and it’d still work.
Voidward‘s self-titled full-length debut lands some nine years after the Durham, North Carolina, trio’s 2013 Knives EP, and accordingly features nearly a decade’s worth of difference in sound, casting off longer-form post-black metal duggery in favor of more riff-based explorations. Still at least partially metallic in its roots, as opener “Apologize” makes plain and the immediate nodder roll of “Wolves” backs up, the eight-song/47-minute outing is distinguished by the clean, floating vocal approach of guitarist Greg Sheriff, who almost reminds of Dave Heumann from Arbouretum, though no doubt other listeners will hear other influences, and yes that’s a compliment. Joined by bassist/backing vocalist Alec Ferrell — harmonies persist on “Wolves” and elsewhere — and drummer Noah Kessler, Sheriff brings just a hint of char to the tone of “Oblivion,” but the blend of classic heavy rock and metal throughout points Voidward to someplace semi-psychedelic but nonetheless richly ambient, and even the most straightforward inclusion, arguably “Chemicals” though closer “Cobalt” has plenty of punch as well, is rich in its execution. They even thrash a bit on “Horses,” so as long as it’s not another nine years before they do anything else, they sound like they can go wherever they want. Rare for a debut.
The second long-player from Long Island, New York’s Indus Valley Kings, Origin brings together nine songs across an expansive 55 minutes, and sees the trio working from a relatively straightforward heavy rock foundation toward more complex purposes, whether that’s the spacious guitar stretch-out of “A Cold Wind” or the tell-tale chug in the second half of centerpiece “Dark Side of the Sun.” They effectively shift back and forth between lengthier guitar-led jams and more straight-up verses and choruses, but structure is never left too far behind to pick up again as need be, and the confidence behind their play comes through amid a relatively barebones production style, the rush of the penultimate “Drowned” providing a later surge in answer to the more breadth-minded unfurling of “Demon Beast” and the bluesy “Mohenjo Daro.” So maybe they’re not actually from the Indus Valley. Fine. I’ll take the Ripple-esque have-riffs-have-shred-ready-to-roll “Hell to Pay” wherever it’s coming from, and the swing of the earlier “…And the Dead Shall Rise” doesn’t so much dogwhistle its penchant for classic heavy as serve it to the listener on a platter. If we’re picking favorites, I might take “A Cold Wind,” but there’s plenty to dig on one way or the other, and Origin issues invitations early and often for listeners to get on board.
Clearly whoever said there were no second chances in rock and roll just hadn’t lived long enough. After reissuing one-upon-a-time Blue Cheer guitarist Randy Holden‘s largely-lost classic Population II (discussed here) for its 50th anniversary in 2020, RidingEasy Records offers Holden‘s sequel in Population III. And is it the work for which Holden will be remembered? No. But it is six songs and 57 minutes of Holden‘s craft, guitar playing, vocals and groove, and, well, that feels like something worth treasuring. Holden was in his 60s when he and Randy Pratt (also of Cactus) began to put together Population III, and for the 21-minute “Land of the Sun” alone, the album’s release a decade later is more than welcome both from an archival standpoint and in the actual listening experience, and as “Swamp Stomp” reminds how much of the ‘Comedown Era’s birth of heavy rock was born of blues influence, “Money’s Talkin'” tears into its solo with a genuine sense of catharsis. Holden may never get his due among the various ‘guitar gods’ of lore, but if Population III exposes more ears to his work and legacy, so much the better.
Gleefully oddball Montana three-piece The Gray Goo remind my East Coast ears a bit of one-time Brooklynites Eggnogg for their ability to bring together funk and heavy/sometimes-psychedelic rock, but that’s not by any means the extent of what they offer with their debut album, 1943, which given the level of shenanigans in 10-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “Bicycle Day” alone, I’m going to guess is named after the NES game. In any case, from “Bicycle Day” on down through the closing “Cop Punk,” the pandemic-born outfit find escape in right-right-right-on nods and bass tone, partially stonerized but casting off expectation with an aplomb that manifests in the maybe-throwing-an-elbow noise of “Problem Child,” and the somehow-sleek rehearsal-space funk of “Launch” and “The Comedown,” which arrives ahead of “Shakes and Spins” — a love song, of sorts, with fluid tempo changes and a Primus influence buried in there somewhere — and pulls itself out of the ultra-’90s jam just in time for a last plodding hook. Wrapping with the 1:31 noise interlude “Goo” and the aforementioned “Cop Punk,” which gets the prize lyrically even with the competition surrounding, 1943 is going right on my list of 2022’s best debut albums with a hope for more mischief to come.
Oh, sweet serenity. Maybe if we all had been in that German garden on the day in summer 2020 when Acid Rooster reportedly performed the two extended jams that comprise Ad Astra — “Zu den Sternen” (22:28) and “Phasenschieber” (23:12) — at least some of us might’ve gotten the message and the assurance so desperately needed at the time that things were going to be okay. And that would’ve been nice even if not necessarily the truth. But as it stands, Ad Astra documents that secret outdoor showcase on the part of the band, unfolding with improvised grace across its longform pieces, hopeful in spirit and plenty loud by the time they get there but never fully departing from a hopeful sensibility, some vague notion of a better day to come. Even in the wholesale drone immersion of “Phasenschieber,” with the drums of “Zu den Sternen” seemingly disappeared into that lush ether, I want to close my eyes and be in that place and time, to have lived this moment. Impossible, right? Couldn’t have happened. And yet some were there, or so I’m told. The rest of us have the LP, and that’s not nothing considering how evocative this music is, but the sheer aural therapy of that moment must have been a powerful experience indeed. Hard not to feel lucky even getting a glimpse.
A sophomore full-length from the Dortmund trio of guitarist/synthesist Bong Travolta, bassist/vocalist Reib Asnah and (introducing) drummer/vocalist Chill Collins — collectively operating as BongBongBeerWizards — Ampire is a call to worship for Weed and Loud alike, made up of three tracks arranged longest to shortest (immediate points) and lit by sacred rumble of spacious stoner doom. Plod as god. Tonal tectonics. This is not about innovation, but celebrating noise and lumber for the catharsis they can be when so summoned. Willfully repetitive, primitive and uncooperative, there’s some debt of mindset to the likes of Poland’s Belzebong or the largesse of half-speed Slomatics/Conan/Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard, but again, if you come into the 23-minute leadoff “Choirs and Masses” expecting genre-shaping originality, you’ve already fucked up. Get crushed instead. Put it on loud and be consumed. It won’t work for everybody, but it’s not supposed to. But if you’re the sort of head crusty enough to appreciate the synth-laced hypnotic finish of “Unison” or the destructive mastery of “Slumber,” you’re gonna shit a brick when the riffs come around. They’re not the only church in town, but it’s just the right kind of fun for melting your brains with volume.
Any way you want to cut it with Mosara‘s second album, Only the Dead Know Our Secrets, the root word you’re looking for is “heavy.” You’d say, “Oh, well ‘Magissa’ has elements of early-to-mid-aughts sludge and doom at work with a raw presentation in its cymbal splash and shouted vocals.” Or you’d say, “‘The Permanence of Isolation’ arrives at a chugging resolution after a deceptively intricate intro,” or “the acoustic beginning of ‘Zion’s Eyes’ leads to a massive, engaging nod that shows thoughtfulness of construction in its later intertwining of lead guitar lines.” Or that the closing title-track flips the structure to end quiet after an especially tortured stretch of nonetheless-ambient sludge. All that’s true, but you know what it rounds out to when you take away the blah blah blah? It’s fucking heavy. Whatever angle you’re approaching from — mood, tone, songwriting, performance — it’s fucking heavy. Sometimes there’s just no other way, no better way, to say it. Mosara‘s 2021 self-titled debut (review here) was too. It’s just how it is. I bet their next one will be as well, or at very least I hope so. If you’re old enough to recall Twingiant, there’s members of that band here, but even if not, what you need to know is that Only the Dead Know Our Secrets is fucking heavy. So there.
Posted in Radio on September 16th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
I don’t know how many of these posts I’ve done by now. Fewer than actual episodes, the number of which I do keep track. But it always feels a little weird. Yeah, guess what? I think it’s a cool show. Of course I fucking do. I made it. What, I’m going to try to suck?
So hey, this is a pretty good show. You should listen.
In all seriousness, I want to express my thanks to Gimme Metal for allowing me to continue to do this. Their platform has gotten huge in the last few years and they need my ass taking up two hours of precious air time like they need a reminder of traditional radio’s downfall, so it really means something to me that I get to weird out and share music for a new show every two weeks. I can’t even turn my playlists in on time. My voice tracks weren’t submitted until Tuesday! Terrible.
Bottom line though is Gimme doesn’t at all have to let me keep doing a show. In my embarrassing number of years, I’ve seen outside-the-genre interest in heavy rock, psych, doom, sludge, and so on wax and wane, and my experience is that if you’re not all the way in it, you’re eventually going to move on to something else that speaks to you. Nothing wrong with that, of course; it’s how life works. It’s why I’m not catholic. But for a company with their hands in so much other shit to allow someone like me to do my thing in my own way and my own time is pretty god damned rare and viscerally appreciated.
That’s all I’ve got to say about it, except that, again, this show is pretty good.
Thanks if you listen and thanks for reading.
The Obelisk Show airs 5PM Eastern today on the Gimme app or at: http://gimmemetal.com.
Full playlist:
The Obelisk Show – 09.16.22 (VT = voice track)
King Buffalo
Mammoth
Regenerator
DRÖÖG
Stormhatt
DRÖÖG
Slomosa
There is Nothing New Under the Sun
Slomosa
VT
Fu Manchu
Mongoose
California Crossing
Stöner
Space Dude & The Burn
Totally…
Monolord
The Siren of Yirsinia
Your Time to Shine
Corrosion of Conformity
The Door
Wiseblood
Colour Haze
Goldmine
Sacred
Mythic Sunship
Equinox
Light/Flux
Blue Rumble
Brasas
Blue Lightning/Brasas
Solanhum
Basti (Falling into the Natural Realm)
Rostratum
Fogteeth
Delirium Man
Headspace
Electric Wizard
The Chosen Few
Witchcult Today
Alain Johannes
If Morning Comes
Hum
Red Sky Blues
Glowing
Red Sky Blues
VT
Kungens Män
Keeper of the One Key
VA – International Space Station Vol. 1
The Obelisk Show on Gimme Metal airs every Friday 5PM Eastern, with replays Sunday at 7PM Eastern. Next new episode is Sept. 30 (subject to change). Thanks for listening if you do.
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 11th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
True, most of the lineup for Up in Smoke 2022 — set for Sept. 30 through Oct. 2 in, as ever, Pratteln, Switzerland — was previously announced, and some of it goes back to what the fest would’ve been in 2020, but I’ve got two reasons for posting it now. First, it’s a new announcement and the festival’s social media has fallen into some kind of digital chasm I don’t and couldn’t hope to understand, and second, that lineup is perfect.
Seriously, they say there are more bands coming. Don’t on my account. This’ll be just fine. There was one band on this poster with whom I was not immediately familiar by name, and that was Midnight Deadbeats, who released their debut album, Moonshine Carnival, in late 2020 on Sixteentimes Music. You can stream it below. To me it sounds like earliest Dozer and if you think I’m about to complain about that you’re out of your mind. And everybody that surrounds on this bill is someone I’d like to see, whether I’ve seen them before or not. Fu Manchu and Slomosa. Irist and Orange Goblin. Naxatras and Echolot. Stoned Jesus and Sasquatch and Mars Red Sky and The Heavy Eyes. Greenleaf. Somali Yacht Club, High Reeper and Hippie Death Cult. Fucking a.
I won’t get there — these Fall fests are perennially out of my reach — but god damn what a show this weekend will be. Sound of Liberation is handling the promotion and that’s where to go for social media at this point. They just made the announcement that follows:
UP IN SMOKE FESTIVAL: LINE-UP ANNOUNCEMENT
Hey friends,
Today we’re absolutely stoked to present you the majority of bands for our beloved Up In Smoke Festival!
Get ready for three days of heavy psychedelic, stoner rock and doom at the Z7 Fabrik in Pratteln, Switzerland!
Already (re-)confirmed for 2022:
FU MANCHU – ORANGE GOBLIN – ELDER – STONED JESUS – PALLBEARER – GREENLEAF – SASQUATCH – NAXATRAS – MARS RED SKY – SOMALI YACHT CLUB – ELECTRIC CITIZEN – SLOMOSA – MOTHER ENGINE – IRIST – HIPPIE DEATH CULT – HIGH REEPER – THE HEAVY EYES – CARSON – ECHOLOT – MIDNIGHT DEADBEATS
More bands to be announced!
Tickets: https://www.sol-tickets.com
Tickets + 3 Day Sleepover Ticket: http://www.z-7.ch
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 15th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
I have said so many times in the past, but of all the festivals throughout any given ‘normal’ year in the sphere of Sound of Liberation‘s booking itinerary, I always wanted to go to Keep it Low in Munich. Yeah, part of that is because Colour Haze regularly shows up — kind of the house band — and any opportunity you can take advantage of to see them in your life is a thing worth doing, but also the general vibe of the artwork, what seems like kind of a laid back feel and intention. At this point it’s been going on long enough (without me in attendance) that I’m sure a community of familiar faces has been built up, and as the first lineup announcement for Keep it Low 2022 on Oct. 7 & 8 comes out, I’m in the same boat as ever thinking that if this was the complete festival, done, one shot, blamo, then you’d say it was looking to be a killer couple days in Germany.
That Friday lineup is unstoppable, and Saturday is more populated but right behind it with Fu Manchu and Unida at the top of the bill so far and a reunion slot for The Great Escape (feat. members of My Sleeping Karma), as well as US imports like The Heavy Eyes, High Reeper and Hippie Death Cult (waiting for that tour announcement any minute now). Maybe they’ll all go together and call it the Triple-H tour, thereby proving that they too remember pro wrestling in the mid-1990s.
Alright, maybe not. Either way, with more to come, here’s what the fest has to say about its own badass doings:
KEEP IT LOW – LINE-UP NEWS & SINGLE DAY TICKETS ON SALE
Dear Keepers,
today we’re happy to reveal the first bands for our upcoming Keep it Low festival 2022! Additionally, Single-Day Tickets are now on sale!
06.18.22 – Sat. – 12:59PM – Under a shady tree sitting on a chair
Is the sprinkler on yet? Somebody is playing music somewhere, maybe over by the entrance, but I’ve got prime real estate in the shade and it’s a big day ahead.
You go into a kind of fog with this kind of thing. At least I do. I can’t memorize lineups and I’m not sure I would if I could, so in addition to finding new-to-me or just plain new bands to dig, there’s also an element of “oh shit yeah” remembering when you look at the day-by-day breakdown and the schedule of who is on stage when.
And to answer my own question, yes, the sprinkler is on.
Inevitably for the last day, my head is already thinking about tomorrow, logistics for going to the airport — I’m told I’ll share a ride to Frankfurt with Slomatics, so that’s wonderful — and the trip home to follow. Some anxiousness going back, but the thing to do is enjoy today. If there’s a mission, that’s it. Also buy merch.
But there is no letup today. It is all go, nine bands, front to back. Unmissable. I’m glad I’m not missing it.
If you’ve been keeping up with this at all, please know how much I appreciate that. I’ll have a wrap up/travel post up at some point between now and Tuesday, but for the moment, here’s notes and pics on the final day of Freak Valley Festival 2022, taken as it happened:
Madmess
Madmess should come with a prescription. I met two of the three members of the Portuguese trio last night and they seemed like really nice guys, and their music follows suit with a gentle spirit even in its most active stretches. Mellow psych, jam-based but not entirely jams. I dug last year’s Rebirth (review here) even more after I wrote about it, and they’re an excellent choice to open the day, starting out mellow enough to seem like they’re barely awake but building enough energy to make their way into an organic sounding boogie. No pretense, no bullshit attitude, just players sharing what they do with a crowd growing by the minute and they pick up the tempo heading into “Stargazer,” which as I said in my LP review, is not the Rainbow song, but an engrossing original featuring some of their intermittent vocals. Morning music is not always easy to find amongst the heavy genres, but I feel like I may have to put Madmess in the rotation after this. Funny though, you’ve been able to see the earlier bands the last couple days kind of hanging back on stage to stay out of the sun. I very much get can relate to that. Already missing that chair under the tree. Whatever.
—
IAH
They’ve got the crowd sway-dancing and handbanging in equal measure. Often the same people — it’s entertaining to watch. IAH stay out all drifty and psych and then click into harder-landing chug and distortion. They’re a bit apart in sound from some of the heavy psych/prog that’s been around this weekend as a result, but that they stand out in the lineup is hardly a detriment. I was so stoked when they got announced for the bill — each of their records has been a step forward from the one before it, up to and including 2021’s Omines (review here), which I’ve kept on my phone since I got it and don’t think I’ll be removing anytime soon. I didn’t think I’d ever see this band, and they’re in Europe just for a few shows, but it’s easy to think of them as moving into a forerunner status of Argentine heavy over the next couple years. Sometimes gorgeous, sometimes crushing, they’re the stuff of life put into sound. And they saved their heaviest stuff for last. All they need to do is keep doing what they’re doing. They’ve been on the right track since their first record.
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Slomatics
Look. I fucking love this band. I’m not going to attempt to hide it or say play it like the fucking critic out here to coldly assess — incidentally, it would be physically impossible to do anything “coldly” right now — but between “And Yet it Moves” and “Tunnel Dragger” and “Canyons,” what a feast of righteousness Slomatics presented to Freak Valley. They were supposed to be here in 2019, Lufthansa lost their guitars. Last two years, obviously not. They bought their instruments a seat on the plane, so took no chances, and got here just before it was time to go on stage, but hell’s bells, even in the open air they managed to sound huge. I went out front in the sun, took off my hat and sunglasses for a bit and let roll absorb me. Nearby, someone was juggling, so to each their own, but for me there is precious little in terms of “very, very heavy” that stands up to Slomatics. I’ve made the “And Yet it Moves” joke before, but the truth is even just the movement isn’t it. The synth and the atmosphere of the two guitars, the leads coming and going, drummer Marty Harvey’s voice — which sounded the best I’ve ever heard as he held out notes before the inevitable concrete collapse followed. I needed this. This whole thing, but this specifically. An offering of slow catharsis made with devastating impact. Of a band could be this, they would never need to be anything else.
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Psychlona
Dudes got riffs. “Down in the Valley,” which guitarist/vocalist Phil Hey introduced by saying it was about this very festival, was a languid highlight, and their songs have that primal, when-stoner-rock-was-stoner-rock — so I guess the ’90s era — but even the most rocking stuff comes across thicker. They’re tight with the Psycho Las Vegas crew — their next album, from which they aired a few songs; no I don’t know the titles because I haven’t heard the record and the stage being so high makes setlist peaking impossible. So it goes. Their last album, Venus Skytrip (review here), hit a nerve, and I can’t argue with a band who knows exactly what they want to be doing and then does it. They closed with a faster song off the first record, 2018’s Mojo Rising and had a crowd who’s seen a lot of rock and roll over the last few days still on their side and rocking out. And Hey owns that stage. Not much thrashing around or whatever, but the band’s got chemistry and it’s his stage presence at the center of it. Palo Verde is the name of their new album. I don’t know when it’s out, but I know I’m going to look for it.
—
Temple Fang
It’s hit 32 degrees, which is 90 in Fahrenheit. I actually don’t know if that’s hotter than yesterday or not. I blame Temple Fang. I mean, it’s not every band on the bill who get on stage and start conducting experiments fusing atoms. So it goes. The Amsterdam four-piece let loose on a patient cosmic flow from the moment they started, and with resonance at their core, they nonetheless conveyed a sense of motion, both in the songs and in themselves. Dennis Duijnhouwer, Jevin de Groot and Ivy van der Veer all contributed vocals, sometimes at once, and while because they work in a longer-form context, and because they’re so fucking good at what they do, one tends to focus on the instrumental side of their approach, but 2021’s Fang Temple (review here) was gorgeous and exploratory in kind and they’ve apparently put out two already-gone live cassettes to follow-up 2020’s Live at Merleyn (review here), so good on them. I hope they’re recording this, or they can get the audio from Rockpalast or whatever. It should all be preserved for posterity. They took a bow when they were done, and I think someone was yelling for “one more song,” but I guess without the 20 minutes to spare it was a no-dice.
—
The Midnight Ghost Train
They raised The Midnight Ghost Train’s banner before they went on, and even that got some applause. I wonder where that’s been since the band broke up. The garage? In one of those bins from Costco? I didn’t ask and I regret it a bit. The trio, from Topeka, Kansas, are doing nine more shows after this for their European run and then supposedly that’s it, but I’ll be honest, that’s not the story they’re telling from the stage. That story is about a band who’ve barely been in a room together in four years — longer than that since the last time with this lineup and who have lost none of the fire or the propulsive vitality that defined them. They’ve got album reissues on Majestic Mountain, and maybe they take it slow, do it right, decide only to tour Europe, etc., but if they’re not leaving themselves open to the possibility of keeping this going, it’s a loss, just like it was a loss when they played their final show in 2018. This band is pure heart, pure shove, pure go. They broke out some old material, with Steve Moss telling the crowd about the riff that started the band, how glad they were to be here, and so on, in his gruff delivery with feedback surrounding. Brandon Burghart remains a beast on drums, and Mike Boyne on bass still stands up to everything Moss delivers, meeting him head-on figuratively and literally at the center of the stage. I’ve been looking forward to this since it was announced, I think maybe The Midnight Ghost Train have been missed more than they realize. They closed with “Ain’t it a Shame,” which is no less relevant now than when they were playing it 10 years ago.
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Elder
I’m a sucker, but I’m glad that as far as Elder have come sonically in the last decade, they still play “Dead Roots Stirring” live. And I love it with two guitars, too. They opened with “Compendium,” as they will, and proceeded to hand the festival its ass with their level of craft, play and style. This was my first time seeing them with drummer Georg Edert, who joined in time to make his recorded debut with the band on 2020’s Omens (review here), and while I’ll always have a soft spot for Matt Couto’s swinging style, Edert has been in the band long enough now that the dynamic isn’t even a question. They just got on and nailed it. “Compendium” into “Blind,” “Dead Roots Stirring” into “Halcyon” and all the sweep you could ask. And as it’s been some years since I last saw them and even longer since the last time in Europe, this was a thrill. They’ve had a new record done for a while, and I hope it’s proggy and unexpected and that they continue to move in whatever direction they want regardless of any expectation placed on them by the fact that they’re one of the best heavy bands in the world, because doing so is what got them there in the first place. It feels like I’ve been unconsciously saving the word “epic” for them, and I’m glad I did. I’m pretty sure new bands form every time they play. Because I’m greedy, I was hoping for a new song in the set, something from their upcoming album murmurings of which have been made pretty much since Omens, but there’s only so much time in a situation like this. Soon enough, I’m sure.
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High on Fire
I would be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling worn out, out of words, etc., from the last few days, but the intensity of High on Fire is just too overwhelming to not let it affect you. Standing in front of the stage while they tore open the set, the festival and perhaps reality it — I’ll get back on that one — my head was immediately swimming, and when I was done taking pictures, it was all I could do to stand up straight. “Rumors of War.” The nod of “Madness of an Architect.” “Fertile Green.” “Baghdad.” “Fury Whip” gets me every time. Between songs, Matt Pike thanked the crowd profusely, noted that it was the band’s first time back in Europe since the pandemic and said “this is our love and we can’t do it without you.” That’s a far fucking cry from “thank you, Germany,” and on the right direction. I’m still a little astonished that they’re not the last band playing — they sure were a few weeks back when I saw them in NYC (review here) — but one way or the other it’s not like anyone’s going to match their level of destruction. Who the hell could? I stood up front near the end of the set, watched the finish. They were some idealized vision of High on Fire. More than 20 years after the fact, the whole band is incredible. I know Pike has been catching flack for his reading choices, but between him, Jeff Matz and Coady Willis, there’s no weak link. You could pick a player to watch the entire time and be completely bowled over, never mind the three of them together.
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Fu Manchu
Come on, man. It’s Fu Manchu! And they did “Godzilla” and everything. What more could you possibly ask? Scott Hill, striped shirt, baggy pants, clear guitar. Brad Davis, putting the “fu” in fuzz and giving a little punk rock to the backing vocals. Bob Balch, who probably shreds in his fucking sleep. Scott Reeder, who in a band whose foundation is riffs still bashes his kit heavy enough that other drummers should be blushing. Not everybody could follow Coady Willis. Not many could follow High on Fire, but Fu Manchu being such a different vibe, their being Fu Manchu, and the crowd being so on board made the shift that much smoother. They opened with “Hell on Wheels,” which was indeed a big deal, despite Hill’s professing the contrary, and I don’t think there was one person standing still in the field. I took pictures on the quick because I knew that I still had to do this and I found out that I have to leave earlier than expected tomorrow — plus travel always takes longer because the king of the road says I move too slow — but it’s Fu Manchu digging into “Reagal Beagle.” The primo-est of tone, the primo-est of groove, and a band who have been around for well longer at this point than the 30 years they’re celebrating doing the thing they’ve long since mastered but have never let get dull. If Freak Valley was looking to make it a blowout, they picked the right band to do it. What a party. There’s a reason heavy rock bands have been ripping off Fu Manchu for the better part of those last 30-plus years, and it’s because they’re one of the best to ever do the thing. Classic stoner rock. Dependable to the utmost. They sounded ready to roll all night, and if you would expect any less, you’ve probably never seen Fu Manchu. Recommend you rectify that at the next available opportunity.
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06.19.22 – Sun. – 7:32AM – Hotel
Thank you first and foremost to The Patient Mrs., through whom all things are possible. I have the not-at-all-vague feeling that when I get home The Pecan is going to rip my arm off and beat me to death with it because I left in the first place — he’s not one for expressing emotions like, “I missed you,” so the arm thing is what you get — but I’ve missed them both tremendously. All the more as there were families at the fest the whole weekend. I can’t imagine trying to wrangle him and cover the fest at the same time, but I’ll be happy to see them both.
The thanks(es) are a long list. Jens Heide, for bringing me here and making this happen. It’s been years in the making even before covid, and it’s truly something special. A festival with heart, made with love for those who will love it. I did.
Thank you to Désirée Hanssen and Rolf Gustavus for making me feel so welcome, for the rides back to the hotel and for the company and conversation. Here’s to no small talk. I almost cried last night telling them how much they made me feel at home. Thanks to Bill from Bushfire for existing. Rare dude. He wasn’t there yesterday and I shit you not the atmosphere was different without him walking around.
Thank you to Kirsten Seubert and Falk-Hagen Bernshausen for the company in the photo pit, and specifically to the former for her antihistamines, which just about saved my life on Friday as my allergies were doing to my mucus membranes what High on Fire did to riffs last night. That kind of generosity means more than I can say.
I met so many wonderful people. Thanks to Alexander Fuchs — who is THE GUY — to Ellen and Nadine backstage, to Jamey, Felli, Jules, to Volker and everyone else helping out behind the scenes for dealing with my dumbass questions and for letting me use that shower in the AWO building to cool off and being generally incredible and kind. The only person who yelled at me all weekend was one of the Rockpalast guys who thought I was stepping on his cable. I was not and told him so in no uncertain terms.
Thanks to Christian from Who Can You Trust? Records. Thanks to Geezer, Elder, The Midnight Ghost Train, Temple Fang, Slomatics, Psychlona, Bob from Fu Manchu, Duel, the guys from IAH, Madmess, Supersonic Blues, The Atomic Bitchwax, Green Lung, Purple Dawn, all the other bands and folks from bands I met and got to hang out with or say hi or chat for a little bit, whatever it was.
Thanks to everyone who came up and said hi who knew the site. Every day, people said the nicest, most validating stuff. Humbling. I know how much The Obelisk means to me, and it feels silly and awkward but I do very much appreciate knowing that I’m not the only one. Thank you. Nick and Hazel, Tim from Noorvik, Arthur Starmonger, Uwe, Tanguy, Max Rebel, Dries from Down the Hill, a ton of others. What a delight as always to see Sister Rainbow and to meet Johan, and if the UK doesn’t name Pete Holland ambassador-at-large soon, I fear for the state of global diplomacy.
No doubt I’ll add more names throughout today as I begin to process what the last 96 hours have wrought, but thank you most of all. The only reason I’m here in the first place, the only reason I can feign relevance to the minimal extent that I can, is because of you. Thank you. Thank you for reading. Thank you if you’ve followed along with any of this. Thank you.
