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Live Review: Earth in Allston, MA, 09.23.14

Posted in Reviews on September 24th, 2014 by JJ Koczan

earth (Photo by JJ Koczan)

There was one ticket left when I arrived at the Great Scott in Allston to see Earth on tour supporting their new album, Primitive and Deadly. Much to the venue’s credit, the show was sold out but not oversold, Plenty warm up front, but in back by the end of the night one could claim some semblance of personal space if desired and still see Seattle’s droniest on stage. Doors were at nine with just two bands on the bill — Earth and fellow Seattleites King Dude opening — and it would be over an hour before anyone went on. So, if you were looking to drink or, say, stare at inane bullshit on your phone, there was plenty of time to do it.

king dude (Photo by JJ Koczan)In the studio, King Dude is a solo-project of Book of Black Earth guitarist/vocalist TJ Cowgill, but live he led a trio dressed in a look that might appear in a catalog as “Heartland Gestapo,” matching black button-downs with collar pins, black pants, short hair calling to mind Baptist righteousness and fascist regimentation as was likely the intent as they played in front of a backdrop of a painted-black and tattered American flag. The songs were Americana-derived neofolk, tales of fire and brimstone and drinking out of some alternate universe USA, guitar, keys, cello, drums. I’m not sure where Cowgill got his Southern accent, but he was enough of a charmer on stage to get two whiskys, one bought from the bar and a mini someone else had apparently snuck in. Well enough earned.

If you’ll permit me a minute to wax critical, one of the most respectable aspects of Earth‘s long tenure — their first demo surfaced in 1990 and but for a stretch between 1997-2003, they’ve been going since — is the earth (Photo by JJ Koczan)relentlessness of their pursuit. Go see Earth for one album and then another and you’ll get two different shows. Guitarist Dylan Carlson, as the founder and driving force, has in the last decade built and continued to refine a legacy that seems no more solidified now than it was nine years ago when they released their landmark comeback full-length, Hex; Or Printing in the Infernal Method. It is a constant work in progress, shifting and remaking itself each time out. And perhaps because their music can be so raw — the repetition of riff cycles, steady drum plod of Adrienne Davies and the steadiness of their instrumental flow — that progression is all the more evocative and encompassing.

As they took the stage at the Great ScottCarlson provided the news that Primitive and Deadly (review here), which came out Sept. 1 on Southern Lord, took only a week to become their highest-selling release to date. He thanked the crowd and then began the set with “Badger’s Bane” and “Even Hell has its Heroes” from that record, the album’s weightier production translating excellently live through Carlson‘s tone, Davies‘ swinging-arm march and the fills of bassist Don McGreevy, also of Master Musicians of Bukkake, earth (Photo by JJ Koczan)who doesn’t play on the new full-length but took part in 2008’s The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s Skull (discussed here) and had no trouble making the parts his own or fitting in alongside Davies as the rhythmic complement to Carlson‘s swaying guitar work.

Of course, a major distinguishing factor of Primitive and Deadly is the inclusion of vocals — Mark Lanegan and Rabi Shabeen Qazi (Rose Windows) guest — and while he had a mic on stage for thanking the crowd, they kept “There is a Serpent Coming” instrumental, that song coming out of “Old Black” from 2011’s Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light I (review here) and moving into “The Bees Made Honey in the Lion’s Skull,” which Carlson noted was their prior highest-seller and especially popular with female fans. I wondered how or why that might be the case as CarlsonDavies and McGreevy continued their droneout, the groove of the older material hitting not quite as heavy as that of the newer, reminding that whatever weight might reside in their tones or evocations, Earth is still far from being a “metal” band.

The new album’s opener, “Torn by the Fox of the Crescent Moon” served as the first installment of a closing duo with “Ouroboros is Broken” as the finisher, Carlson noting that they were the band’s newest and oldest songs, respectively. They paired together well, with the latter being somewhere between the reinvented textures of its appearance on 2007’s Hibernaculum EP and the original from 1991’s Extra-Capsular Extraction. earth (Photo by JJ Koczan)Whatever version it was, it made a rolling cap on a set that didn’t so much celebrate the entire scope of Earth‘s career — at some point, particularly as they’re hinging on their 25th year, one imagines a retrospective live set of one form or another will happen — but emphasized the vitality of the work they’re doing now, their continued relevance and expanding influence. Given the expanse of time they’ve covered and the years and decades their growth has encompassed, it’s even easier to appreciate the restlessness underlying their evolution and the irony that so much of their reputation is for the stillness in their material. Still maybe, but never stagnant.

I had no line of sight to Davies, but there are a couple more pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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Live Review: Floor, Hot Victory and Darsombra in Allston, MA, 05.07.14

Posted in Reviews on May 8th, 2014 by JJ Koczan

Weird bill? Yeah, weird bill. If they wanted to, Floor probably could’ve picked two Floor-influenced stoner bands to go out with on their US tour supporting the release last week of their first album in 10 years, Oblation (review here), but it was clear from the start of Darsombra‘s half-hour of projection-backed good-karma hippie drone that they and Hot Victory would be up to much different kinds of mischief than the evening’s headliners at the Great Scott in Allston. I’d arrived at the venue early, as I’m apparently wont to do, and sat for a little bit watching the Red Sox on the tv toward the front of the house while Darsombra set up.

When the lights went down and projections of trees scrolled by on the while screen erected behind them, I wasn’t even sure it was the start of their set, but once Brian Daniloski and Ann Everton took the stage — also dressed in white and playing through painted-white amps so that they too became a screen for the projected videos– they sat in front of their pedal board and keyboard, respectively, picked up a mic and explained what was up, invited people to sit or otherwise get comfortable and, smiling wide all the while, dug into a wall of sound both brightly toned and sonically weighted. Loud enough to want earplugs, but warm in its consumption. Like a guru who also eats you.

They’ve been on tour since the end of February, are in the home stretch. Here’s a phrase you don’t hear all the time: “We’re into the ninth week of our tour.” It’s hard not to admire such a nomadic ethic, and the dynamic between Daniloski (formerly of underrated stone-grinders Meatjack) and Everton was plain to see. Standing to pick up a bass, then switching to guitar, Daniloski couldn’t resist injecting a little more heavy into the noise wash, again, smiling as he did, and Everton accordingly broke out a gong to accompany, resulting in a blend of natural and electronic/manipulated sounds that would somehow serve as a fitting precursor to Portland, Oregon’s Hot Victory when they came on next.

I noted a Stumpfest hat on Ben Stoller that was a dead giveaway of their origins. In my head, I’d somehow crossed them up with Tee Pee retro riffers Hot Lunch, but by the time Stoller and fellow percussionist/sampler Caitlin Love finished loading up their elaborate spread of gear — a double-drum kit with two bass drums, snare, electronic elements, full pre-amped mixing board, keyboard, sampler, etc. — it was clear who was who. It took a while for them to get going, and the dancier start kind of turned me off, but as they went into their second piece, I took a step back — figuratively, since it was starting to get crowded in there — and asked myself, “Wait a second, what part of this isn’t brilliant?”

Like Darsombra, Hot Victory were probably something better seen live than heard on record, where seeing how they’re made feeds into the perception of the songs — though “seeing” is relative since they basically played in the dark. Ultimately, Love and Stoller wound up crafting intricate rhythms across their drums and the electronics, and samples filled out what was some of the most satisfying prog I’ve seen live since the early days of Zombi. Next time Kylesa finds itself in need of two drummers, they might do well to absorb them the way the Melvins did to Big Business, but even on their own, Hot Victory delivered a heavy sonic experience that boasted the precision of electronic music with the element of danger that comes with an organic live performance. At any moment, the entire thing could’ve come undone, but it never did.

Between the new release, the recent interview with guitarist Anthony Vialon and my general nerdly glee at their moving beyond “reunion band” status, it’s safe to say Floor have been on my mind of late. In hitting the Great Scott show, my interest was to see how the Miami trio were approaching that prospect; going from being a band playing reunion shows to a working trio supporting a new record with a cycle of touring. Unquestionably, putting out a new full-length was the right call, and Oblation material made a well-fitting complement to songs from Floor‘s 2002 landmark self-titled in the set, featuring heavily in trades back and forth between new songs and older ones while transitions between cuts like “The Key” and “New Man” came across as crisply live on stage as they do on the album.

The tour started April 30, so they were just a week into just over a month’s run, but it was clear they were getting settled into their process. The other times I’ve seen Floor over the last couple years have been one-offs, or short tours — all-out blasts with nothing kept in reserve. This was different. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Brooks, the aforementioned Vialon (who’s usually pretty meditative on stage anyway) and drummer Henry Wilson knew they’d be playing again the next night. Rest assured, they warmed up as they went on — bomb-string riffs dropped liberally all the while — and as “Oblation,” “Trick Scene” and “Find Away” from Oblation gave way to “Kallisti/Song for Eris” from the self-titled and “Dove,” they were on a roll that kept up for the remainder of their time. Wilson seemed particularly to catch fire, and while all three seemed to still be acclimating to the newer songs, the set was well constructed to have a flow between the familiar and the more recent.

Of the many things I’ll complain about on a given day, I don’t think I’ll ever bitch for hearing “Scimitar,” “Return to Zero” and “Downed Star” one into the next. The opening salvo from the self-titled was presented in album order and followed by “The Key,” “New Man” and “Sister Sophia,” likewise running in the set as they do on Oblation. “Iron Girl” fed into “Love Comes Crushing” well despite the decade-plus between when each was written, and “Tales of Lolita” was as infectiously catchy as ever. I had been hoping for “Homecomings and Transitions” from the new one, but “War Party,” the extended “Sign of Aeth” and the rush of “Raised to a Star” made suitable replacements, Oblation closer “Forever Still” preceding the ultra-heavy, feedback-drenched finish of “The Quill” and “Ein (Below and Beyond),” the two songs summing up Floor‘s “the more things change…” continuity between then and now.

I guess the answer I got to my initial question — how Floor would do in going from reunion act to working one — was the same answer I got from Oblation itself. They’ve taken their sound and progressed with it, and just as on the album there was nothing that sounded like they couldn’t just keep going with it, what they were doing on stage looked sustainable as well, and vital even with the inclusion of new material after years of playing the same songs. As a record, Floor is such a static presence — like a monument cut in marble to be idealized — but what the trio have proven with this album and what they proved again on stage last night is that actually these songs and this sound is meant to move, meant to go different places and explore different ideas. I keep they keep the development going, because it seems like as much as they’re getting adjusted now, there’s still ground for them to cover going forward.

It was pretty dark all night, but there are some more pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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Live Review: Gozu and Never Got Caught in Allston, 01.10.13

Posted in Reviews on January 13th, 2014 by JJ Koczan

Fun fact: I saw Gozu in Allston just about a year ago, down the street from Great Scott at O’Brien’s (review here). Oh, what a difference a year can make. For me, now I live here. For them, after the early 2013 release of The Fury of a Patient Man (review here), they spent much of the ensuing 12 months playing out in various Eastern Seaboard haunts while reaping international praise for their second Small Stone outing the likes of which landed them a slot at the impending Roadburn 2014 and Berlin Desertfest in April, between which they’ll presumably tour (unless they’re going for frequent flier miles, which is possible) their inaugural European run. Late last year, they also swapped out drummer Barry Spillberg (ex-Wargasm) for former Warhorse basher Mike Hubbard and added Jeff Fultz on third guitar alongside Marc Gaffney and Doug Sherman. I guess their year was somewhat busier than mine. Fair enough.

That last move in particular I found puzzling. Fultz is an experienced, classy player — one might recall his tenure in Seemless last decade, and he currently holds a spot in Mellow Bravo in addition to having joined Gozu — but I wasn’t sure what a five-piece incarnation might add to Gozu‘s dynamic that wasn’t already there in the four-piece. And so curiosity was part of what got me out of the house; the other part was cabin fever. I’d been treating home more or less like a cocoon for the whole week while riding out what the Weather Channel’s website couldn’t seem to stop calling the “Polar Vortex” (which sounds like a stoner rock song if it isn’t one yet). A break in the blistering cold, though it was raining, didn’t hurt either. Seems the mettle of my Mid-Atlantic sensibilities is being tested by my first winter in New England. If I forfeit can it be May?

The night was a five-band bill with Gozu, Never Got Caught, TownshipAwait Rescue and Thunderbloods, and I won’t pretend to have seen the whole show. I understand that’s how it goes here and bills are stacked regularly and shows are dirt cheap (two bucks per band on this occasion), but with respect for the fertile creative ground that is the Boston scene, I had work still to do. Never Got Caught were on stage when I walked into the Great Scott — a room I dig a lot despite their apparent stance against lighting acts while they play — and though it was catching Gozu that got me out the door like the misshapen pupa I am, I was glad to run into the native four-piece, whose guitarist/vocalist Bryan “Uzi” Hinkley and his brother, drummer Bill Hinkley, trace their pedigree back to ’90s hardcore/heavy rockers Tree.

A double-guitar outfit with Bryan on lead vocals backed by fellow guitarist Dave Ward and bassist Jesse Sherman, they were somewhat moodier live than I recalled from their 2009 Creepshow full-length, but still rich in tone with the guitars tapping at times into Wino-style fuzz without ever relinquishing their own identity to do so. Their songs were catchy and had character, but weren’t overly poppy, and when Bryan and Sherman and Ward all got on mic at the same time, the vocal interplay was clear, professional and made the songs all the more engaging. I’d never seen Never Got Caught before, but it’ll be worth keeping an eye out for a chance to do so again. They’ve reportedly got a new album in the works to release in Spring on Mad Oak Records.

Gozu followed immediately and played a set of eight songs evenly split between their two Small Stone records, 2010’s Locust Season (review here) and the aforementioned The Fury of a Patient Man, looking somewhat crowded on the Great Scott stage, but sounding tight although they’re clearly still smoothing out the presentation of the new lineup. Fultz seemed to have stage left to himself at first, while Gaffney was in the center, leaving bassist Joe Grotto and Sherman (Doug, as opposed to Jesse from Never Got Caught) packed on the right — neither of them has ever been wont to stand still while playing in my experience, but there were no collisions that I saw — and Hubbard behind. By the time they finished, they were more comfortable than they had been when they started. Fultz‘s amiable confidence meshed well with the rest of the band, Hubbard hit hard and slaughtered his way through the changes in “Signed, Epstein’s Mom” and “Ghost Wipe.” If nothing else, it was probably the loudest set I’ve seen from Gozu, and at this point I’ve seen a few.

And as they relaxed, sort of letting the songs do their work, the potential for Gozu as a five-piece really began to sink in. I had a forehead-slap moment of “holy shit, duh,” when Sherman and Fultz kicked into dueling solos for Locust Season highlight “Regal Beagle.” Gaffney held down the melody smoothly on vocals, and when the chorus was done and it was time for the guitars to take the lead, all of a sudden it was Gozu doing Thin Lizzy harmonies, adding a completely new twist on a familiar song, and whatever mental block I had to understanding why the band might want to add a third six-stringer evaporated. While Gaffney‘s a more than capable rhythm guitarist, before, it was clearly Sherman‘s role to handle the vast majority of the soling. With Fultz, not only is there a dynamic between lead and rhythm guitar, but between the lead guitars themselves as well. I don’t know why I didn’t get that before I actually stood there to see it — actually yes I do, it’s because I don’t play guitar — but being there made all the difference.

I was suddenly very glad to have left the house, and I felt like I also could relax from that point on in Gozu‘s set, which, as it stormed through “Meth Cowboy” and “Ghost Wipe” en route to closing out with “Mr. Riddle” only gained momentum. If it hadn’t been one before — and I think it had been — it was a party when Gozu were finished, but I beat a quick retreat like the misfit ogre I am and headed out into the moist but above-freezing air to slip on melting ice on the way back to my car. Served me right for not staying for the whole show.

Some more pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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Live Review: Pelican, Kings Destroy and Phantom Glue in Allston, 10.19.13

Posted in Reviews on October 21st, 2013 by JJ Koczan

On the televisions in the back of the Great Scott, the Boston Red Sox were working their way into the World Series, so the air was tense at first and jovial later on as Pelican came north from two Brooklyn CMJ shows for a sold-out gig with Kings Destroy and Boston’s own Phantom Glue: A bill of three bands I’d very much been looking forward to seeing. Pelican‘s Forever Becoming was still fresh in my head from reviewing it last week, so I was excited to see some of those songs live, and with memories of the mastery they displayed last year at Roadburn, it was all the better to catch them in a smaller space. Kings Destroy had an added element of intrigue for me, catching them out of their native NYC habitat, and since Phantom Glue were pretty high on my Boston-bands-I-gotta-see list (which, frankly, I can’t believe I haven’t made a post of yet), there was no way to lose. It had been a great day and it would be a great night.

As I’d learned the last time I was at the venue, it was dark. That seems to be how it goes. O’Brien’s, P.A.’s Lounge, Radio, Great Scott. All very cool places with no lights on. Fair enough, I guess. Nobody’s putting on shows for the people who show up with cameras, so there you go. Hardly impeded my enjoyment of Phantom Glue, who, again, I’d been anticipating a live encounter with more or less since I moved. Their vinyl-only summer ’13 outing, A War of Light Cones (review here), was a beast, and live, songs like “Perils” and “Biocult” only came across as meaner and rawer, the dueling barks of guitarist Matt Oates and bassist Nick Wolf tempering noise rock cruelties with modern metal sense of growl. It quickly became apparent that I was right to have high expectations for their set.

In a way, their t-shirts said it all. Wolf had Disfear, Oates had Karp, guitarist Mike Gowell had Harvey Milk and in back, drummer Kyle Rasmussen bore the logo of a demolition derby. So between them all, you had d-beat hardcore punk metal mixed with West Coast noise, unhinged creative doom and sheer destructive mechanical force for its own sake. I highly doubt the four guys in the band got together and were like, “Okay, tonight we’re going to go with the band-summation wardrobe,” but I’ll be damned if it didn’t work out that way anyhow, and for what it’s worth, their identity seemed to have been long since carved from these elements. They were comfortable on stage, delivered a powerful (and loud) set, and they’re a local act I’m very much looking forward to getting to know better. For even just a first time seeing them, though, they impressed.

And to have them go on right before Kings Destroy as well emphasized a clear difference in my mind — namely that between aggression and confrontation. Phantom Glue were aggressive; a heavy, move-the-air kind of band that lacked nothing in presence. Kings Destroy, their New York hardcore pedigree seeping through in a way that you’d say was in spite of them if they didn’t seem to enjoy it so much, are confrontational, directly challenging their audience. In Brooklyn, which is by far where I’ve seen them most, one almost takes this as a given. In Boston, when vocalist Steve Murphy jumped off the stage and went into the crowd at the end of “Blood of Recompense” from this year’s A Time of Hunting, it was more of a surprise. That’s not to say New England doesn’t have its own hardcore lineage — you can’t walk through Harvard Square without being spin-kicked at least twice — just that the approach is different.

Kings Destroy loved it, and speaking of kicks, guitarist Carl Porcaro got one from fellow six-stringer Chris Skowronski to wake him up as the solo in “Medusa” went long. They were loose, having played with Pelican in New York the night before, but dead on all the same, bassist Aaron Bumpus playing through a Sunn head I’ve seen smoke rise from the back of before with a tone that only made the already-full room more temperate. As ever, I fucking loved “The Toe,” which I’d argue is the transitional moment between the more straightforward riffery of the Maple Forum alums’ first album and the gleeful weirdness of cuts like “Shattered Pattern” and “Turul” from the second, taking cues from multiple impulses and setting them to drummer Rob Sefcik‘s steady groove. “Turul” wasn’t aired at Great Scott, but “Shattered Pattern” followed “Old Yeller” as the second song they played, which seemed bold for how quiet parts of it are, but “The Toe,” “Casse-Tête” and “The Mountie” set a steady roll that continued from there on out as they got more and more riotous toward their finish.

I’ve never regretted watching them play — their confrontationalism fascinates all the more outside New York; it’s fun to watch them catch people off guard — and by the time they were done, monitors had been toppled, P.A. speakers pushed, and Murphy had gone so far into the crowd that a path had to be cut for him to put the mic back on the stage. Not that Pelican needed it, being instrumental, but one doesn’t want to wander off with these things either. I don’t remember exactly when the grand slam put the Red Sox ahead of the Tigers, but I’m pretty sure it was between Kings Destroy and Pelican, and since that fits my narrative of the night better, I’m gonna go with it. Whenever it was, a cheer went up in the back of the venue and celebration — by that I mean more drinking — began. Despite a shared backline, Pelican took a while to get going. When they did, it seemed like the place was pretty well sauced. Not a complaint.

Also jammed. I old-man reminisced about seeing Pelican at the Knitting Factory in Manhattan nearly a decade ago (another dude up front said he’d been there as well, which was cool), but when I turned around, the room was heads the whole way back. Sure enough, a sold out show. The Chicago four-piece of guitarists Trevor de Brauw and Dallas Thomas, bassist Bryan Herweg and drummer Larry Herweg got underway with “The Creeper” from 2009’s What We all Come to Need (review here), but it was the one-two-three of “Deny the Absolute,” “The Tundra” and “Immutable Dusk” from Forever Becoming that hooked the crowd, myself included, with a tonally rich and unrepentantly heavy thrust that seemed to revel in its own dynamic of chugging, locked-in nod and periods of pastoral ambience. Though it’s a “duh” kind of thing to say for a band who’s been around for roughly 13 years, they were noteworthy in how tight they were, and though de Brauw got on a mic a couple times to thank the crowd for coming out and near the near the end of the set said it meant a lot to the band to sell out the place after not coming to town for so long, most of their time on stage was an undulating sea of open-feeling grooves.

Whatever else you can say about Pelican, they’ve never stopped doing things on their own terms — remember that time they found a singer and became the biggest band in the world? Nope, you don’t — so the loyalty engendered in their listeners makes sense, and justify by continuing to develop their approach over the years. One can trace their sound through the bevvy of splits and EPs and use their five full-lengths to date as a landmark, but live, it becomes more about the experience of where they are than how they got there. They dipped back to 2007’s City of Echoes to close out with “Dead between the Walls,” but that was as far back as they went. Last year’s Ataraxia/Taraxis EP (review here) was represented with “Lathe Biosas” and “Parasite Colony,” which like the three from Forever Becoming, appeared in succession as though to demonstrate that the flow of Pelican records is intended to mirror that of the live show and vice versa, and returning to the new album, “The Cliff” rested comfortably on Bryan‘s bassline as the airier guitars moved easily into the emergent churn of “Strung up from the Sky.”

By then, if you weren’t lost in it, you probably had called it a night already. I watched the end of Pelican‘s set further back, on the edge of the crowd swell, and found it no less immersive than it had been in front of the stage. “Strung up from the Sky” gave way to the galloping “Dead between the Walls,” breaking to atmospherics before building to a satisfying final churn and crashing noisy into its final moments. There was a requisite snap back to reality after the amps got shut off, and I watched as the crowd streamed out of the Great Scott and into the vomit-strewn baseball-loving Saturday night Allston street that awaited, got on line to pick up a CD of Forever Becoming — also buying a double of 2009’s Ephemeral EP, the title-track of which they’d played — and then likewise headed out.

Extra thanks to The Patient Mrs., Jaime Traba, Steve Murphy, Trevor de Brauw, and you for reading. This one was a special kind of night. Like I said, it was dark, but there are a few more pics after the jump.

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Live Review: Elder, Second Grave and Rozamov in Boston, 08.14.13

Posted in Reviews on August 15th, 2013 by JJ Koczan

I had a bit of that I’m-in-a-new-place-and-I-don’t-know-where-anything-is anxiety beforehand, but I knew more or less as soon as I found out about the show that I wasn’t going to miss Elder at the Great Scott with Second Grave. It would be my first time seeing the heavy psych forerunners in their hometown — also my first time at the Great Scott, which is a name I’ve seen often on lists of kickass tour dates and a place to which I expect I’ll return before too long. Fortunately, it was easy to find.

The night ended up very different than it started out. Originally, it was a date on Ancient VVisdom‘s headlining tour, but when the tour was canned owing to a family emergency, The Saint James Society were left on their own. They must have been just thrilled with life by the time last night rolled around, because in addition to now being out minus their headliner, they got stuck in Brooklyn with van trouble and couldn’t make the trip north to Boston. I’d been looking forward to seeing them and getting to know their stuff better, but it’ll have to wait for another night.

Elder had stepped in to headline the gig as their last show before taking an extended hiatus. Not breaking up (though one never knows what life will bring), but unfortunately stopping short the momentum that last year’s best-EP-I-heard-in-2012 Spires Burn/Release 10″ (streamed here) continued coming off the 2011 Dead Roots Stirring full-length (review here). A sad occasion, but not a show to let slip. Second Grave were originally the local support for the two out of town acts, but now found themselves the first of a two-band bill, the announcement having gone out on Thee Facebooks that The Saint James Society weren’t coming.

Fair enough. Hell, I’ll take that, especially on a gotta-work-the-next-morning weeknight. When I rolled into the Great Scott, however — cool room, if dark, with an open bar area and lower ceiling by the stage for compression of sound — I saw also-Bostonite four-piece Rozamov had been added as an opener, so what was two touring acts and one local when it was announced became three killer locals by the time the show actually started. All the better. Rozamov showed they were still relatively fresh after touring last month — they said from the stage they’d also played three shows in four nights or some such; so that could have something to do with it as well — and provided an opening bit of extremity to an evening that would approach “heavy” from three distinct angles.

Their road time had obviously done them well, and where at Stoner Hands of Doom XII last fall, they’d started out the show sounding like they were still figuring out where they wanted to be sonically, at Great Scott, they tore right into a set of thickened stoner thrash, nodding at High on Fire but ripping through a proper comparison en route to more individualized, dually-shouted, dually-guitarred territory. As with the last time I saw them, it seemed only sensible to buy a CD, and as they released the Of Gods and Flesh EP in July, six bucks was a small price to pay for the four cuts, all of which were aired throughout the set. “Shadow of the Vulture” was an immediate highlight, but “Famine” and “Empty Sky” and the title-track warrant further investigation for sure. Good thing I bought the disc.

Combining extended cuts from last year’s Second Grave EP (review here) like “Mountains of Madness” and “Covet,” Second Grave came on with some surprising heavy rock movement in their riffs at first, but over the course of their set, delved deeper and deeper into a metallic and anguished doom, given emotional depth by the vocals of guitarist Krista Van Guilder. The band first came to my attention because they feature Black Pyramid/The Scimitar bassist Dave Gein — the EP was also recorded by Black Pyramid drummer Clay Neely — but the personality is almost completely different, and Second Grave approach doom from someplace darker and more theatrical, though guitarist Chris Drzal still looked like a rocker while soloing, having a bit of fun despite the morose context while drummer Chuck Ferreira added to the grander sensibilities with intricate fills and well-placed crash.

Of the five songs they played — it was a full set time-wise, make no mistake — three were from the EP, but opener “Mourning Light” and closer “Drink the Water” were new, and Van Guilder mentioned from the stage that vinyl was forthcoming. It’ll be interesting to see how that plays out, if Second Grave have been picked up for the release or are putting it out on their own, but either way, they answered Rozamov‘s periodic bombast with a definitely-metal sense of poise and as Van Guilder added periodic screams to her clean vocals at the end of “Mountains of Madness” and “Drink the Water,” it was easy to see the dynamic developing in the band’s approach between the dark and moodiness of classic doom metal and more extreme, blackened fare. I can’t help but wonder how the varying sides might combine further on whatever their next release might be, another EP or the inevitable debut full-length.

It was well after 11PM when Second Grave finished, but Elder seemed to feel like jamming and I was certainly on board for that. Guitarist/vocalist Nick DiSalvo, bassist Jack Donovan and drummer Matt Couto didn’t make much of the fact that they won’t be playing together for however long it might wind up being, but the spirit of getting while the getting’s good was palpable anyway. DiSalvo opened quietly with some spacey guitar lines and introduced the band and they were quickly underway. In the context of it being their “last show until X,” it was hard not to see them as focusing on the instrumental chemistry between the three players, but really, I think Elder were just enjoying playing out when they hadn’t expected to do so, at a show that wasn’t set up to be any kind of farewell party, but ended up that way anyhow. As anticipated, they killed.

Having seen them earlier this year in London and at Roadburn, I knew the level of play the trio have hit with and after Spires Burn/Release, but that did nothing to diminish my enjoyment of the set itself, which found them immersed in their particular style of quick, unexpected turns offset by thick tonality and stretches of groove that seem to bask in their own righteousness, extended leads more glorious than indulgent. Elder songs rarely hit when you think they’re going to, and even for cuts from Dead Roots Stirring like the title-track and the blissful hit-the-ground-speeding prog of “The End,” just because you’ve heard them however many times doesn’t mean you necessarily know how they’ll land on a given night. They are continually exciting to watch, and it seemed like the masses assembled at Great Scott knew what they were seeing and gave it due appreciation. There’s an emerging heavy psychedelia in the US right now, whether  it’s shoegazing acts like Whirr or the instrumental cosmic explorations of It’s Not Night: It’s Space, but no one does heavy quite like Elder. I was glad to have seen them in their hometown.

Ending the set proper with “Release” and reveling in the Colour Haze-y grandeur, Elder took their time in shutting off their amps in a way that only added to the calls of “one more song!” from the audience, who were treated to “Spires Burn” for their efforts, DiSalvo metering his leads with the lush central progression of the track itself, essentially doing the work of lead and rhythm players at the same time while Couto and Donovan slammed through each of the track’s many resonant twists with adrenaline-fueled precision. Seemed telling to me that they finished out with their newest stuff, and that it got arguably the best response of the night, since it showed all the more just how at their to-date peak they are. Well, last time they seemed to be rolling along and took a break, they came back with Dead Roots Stirring, so if this time around Elder makes a return with even half as much a creative leap as that album was from their nonetheless awesome 2008 self-titled debut, their third outing is already one to look forward to, whenever it might arrive.

And until then, they were given a proper sendoff at the Great Scott. I’m sure it wasn’t the night that some had anticipated — perhaps most of all Rozamov, who joined the bill something like two hours before the show started — but by the time they were done, it was clear everything had worked out all the same.

More pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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