I know they’re new at it and all, and coming from the always-vibrant New York hardcore scene, it probably slipped through the procedural cracks, but apparently no one told Kings Destroy that nobody comes to see doom in Jersey. When I walked into the Moonlight Mile studio space at 123 Harrison St. in Hoboken on Saturday night for the Obelisk-presented evening with Choirs of Titan, Kings Destroy and The Nolan Gate, the place was packed. I take credit for none of it, but it was great to see anyway. The crowd, the median age of which still had to hire a babysitter for the night — except for the one couple who brought their kid and slapped those industrial earphones on her — looked like they were having a killer time before the show even started. The kegs, of which I saw four, were all gone by the time The Nolan Gate went on stage.

It was a beautiful thing, to be sure.

The name of the first of the four total bands escapes me, but I know it definitely had the word “cock” somewhere in there. They were fronted by Bill Dolan (American Standard) and played a collection of covers, from Misfits to AC/DC, all drunken, all joyous, goods times. It was a lighthearted way to kick off the show, and they pulled in a huge crowd, Dolan being something of a Hoboken luminary. It was a vibe Manhattan‘s Choirs of Titan would more or less completely shift away from with their Wolfmother-style ’70s retro rock. Zepplin riffs through Orange amps; it’s been done by a thousand tight-pants trios before, but guitarist/vocalist Elliot had chops enough to pull it off, and I’m pretty sure I was standing behind the drummer’s father while they played their set, and that’s always charming when the parents come out. Not really my bag, but nothing against them. I’m sure they do just fine in NYC.

I asked the DJ if he had any Kyuss. He didn’t. Sleep? Nope, left it home. He had played “Godzilla” by Fu Manchu earlier, so I thought maybe I’d hit him up for some other classics, but no dice. Back to the beer line.

One thing about the older crowd: they knew how to keep the bathroom clean. Looked roughly the same at the end of the night as it did at the beginning. Apparently sometime in the years between 30-38 is when most dudes learn not to piss all over the seat/floor/surrounding walls/etc. That must be a magical time in a man’s life.

It was Kings Destroy‘s first show ever, which I hadn’t realized. I thought they’d snuck one in before, but frontman Steve Murphy (Uppercut) informed otherwise. Given that, their set was all the more impressive. It’s a rudimentary kind of riff-based doom they play, but interestingly, they do it with the presence and confidence of their many successful years in hardcore. Though they’ve been fans of the genre for a long time, they’re just getting their start in the stoner/doom world, and so watching them on stage was more or less seeing a process of discovery with the added benefit that it was already established musicians and performers doing the discovering.

They played both songs from their recently-reviewed Old Yeller/Medusa 7″, which is due out later this month, along with several others, and it was clear from the start of their set to the finish whose show it was. They’re still very much putting it all together, but I’m excited to see what’s going to happen when they put this material to tape for a full-length. The songs had a consistency of atmosphere and composition that bodes well for the album to come.

The Nolan Gate closed out the night in heavy fashion, but not before Dolan — carrying a Costco-size bottle of Jagermeister — ran back in to give Gang Green‘s “Alcohol,” played by the DJ between bands, a complementing stage show; the chorus of “I’d rather drink than fuck” being the subject of numerous gang chants into the mic, which, it’s worth mentioning, wasn’t turned on. There’s a word for that. It’s called fun. Not something you see every night at what’s ostensibly a doom show.

I hadn’t caught a set from The Nolan Gate in a couple years, and the update I gave myself after watching their set went as follows: “still doing their thing.” The trio have been plugging away in their corner of Hoboken for years now, but they’re always enjoyable to watch, and the “Fjord” shouts, which started up demanding the song before the band even started to play, turned out to be justified. They rocked, and the end of the night was, strangely, every bit as appropriate as the beginning. I did not envy myself for having the task of driving home.

NOTE: Yeah, I know I didn’t write part one yet. I’m starting with Pt. 2. If you don’t like it, get your own damn website and number posts however you see fit. Now then…

It was under an appropriately darkening and threatening dusk that I — having slept until 1:30pm and spent most of the day wandering around semi-conscious and reeling from the night before — drearily made my way into Manhattan to catch the North America is Doomed Tour with SerpentCult, The Gates of Slumber and Atlanta mavens Zoroaster headlining. I left the house at about 8pm hit little to no traffic and pulled into a parking spot directly across the street from Webster Hall at 9:05. From outside, I could hear The Gates of Slumber riffing the start of their set. No one stopped me when I went and pulled on the wrong door of the venue.

The show was downstairs in a space they called The Studio. I’d never been in it before, but it was basically a smaller club apart from the larger ballroom. I love rooms like that. Like the Tap Bar at the old Knitting Factory. Every time I go to one I immediately start booking a multi-stage festival in my head. Upstairs I’d get High on Fire and Pentagram to headline while in The Studio I’d bring over Dozer and put them on with someone more local like Unearthly Trance or maybe Solace. Awesome. Just don’t ask me how I’d pay for it.

By the time I was inside, The Gates of Slumber were nearly done with what I hope was the first song they played. I checked the merch area for copies of their older albums, 2004’s The Awakening and 2006’s Suffer No Guilt, to no avail. Though 2008’s Conqueror didn’t do much for me in terms of repeat listens, my understanding was such that the two that came before were the way to go. Has yet to be seen (or heard, I suppose). In either case, the trio surprised the hell out of me by kicking all sorts of unholy trad doom ass on material both new and old, highlighting Conqueror cuts like “Trapped in the Web” while simultaneously promoting their forthcoming Rise Above debut, Hyms of Blood and Thunder (split your lungs therein). Skulleted guitarist/vocalist Karl Simon pulled emotive solo notes to new song “Descent into Madness” shortly after saying how glad he was people had come down to the show because he didn’t think anyone would show up, and if I wasn’t a fan before, I certainly was one by the time they were done with “The Ice Worm’s Lair.”

Read more »

Tack an hour onto the Parkway ride to Atlantic City because it was July 3 and you get me arriving at the Showboat Casino literally two minutes before my scheduled interview with Clutch guitarist Tim Sult (coming soon), rushing up the escalator to find the main room of the House of Blues and promptly sitting for 25 minutes while the band finished their sound check. When The Patient Mrs., who had dropped me off and gone to park the car, came into the building, told her via phone from the backstage kitchen to just cross the rope and walk in like she knew what she was doing. She did and when my interview was done, we met up and went to grab a slice of crappy boardwalk pizza before the show started.

Monster Magnet was supposed to play, which would have at least been convenient since I elected to stay home the rainy Saturday night in May when they hit Starland Ballroom in Sayreville, but for reasons unknown, it was not to be. Speculation, rumor and innuendo was all the explanation I was able to get out of anyone at the show. Massachusetts‘ Shadows Fall somehow became the fill-in for the middle slot, and their fit betwixt Clutch and opening trio Wino (featuring their namesake guitarist/vocalist and Clutch‘s J.P. Gaster on drums) was awkward to say the least, but they made a go of it and did their thing nonetheless. I was one of many late 20-somethings in the crowd who gave a perceptible “Oh yeah, this song,” when they played “Crushing Belial.” It had been a while since I heard that.

Read more »