To date, they’re not revolutionaries or anything like that, but I like Swedish four-piece Mamont. I dug their EP well enough, but with the cumbersomely-titled 2012 debut full-length, Passing through the Mastery Door(review here), it was easy to hear they were beginning a process of coming into their own, and that sensibility I almost always find exciting in an album. The band, based in Nyköping and Stockholm and previously interviewed here, seem bent on doing the work of a genuine creative progression — both in their songwriting and in terms of putting in time on the road — and in their new video for the track “Stonehill Universe,” they show that even a simple performance clip of a group in a room (or two) still has space to show a bit of individuality. I’m not the betting type, but I’m looking forward to hearing what Mamont do next, and this is fun in the meantime.
Posted in Reviews on October 4th, 2012 by JJ Koczan
Where their previous demo had given some hint of a retro ‘70s influence, the debut full-length from Nyköping, Sweden, four-piece Mamont is more thickly, densely fuzzed. Passing through the Mastery Door is a fairly ambitious title for an act making their debut, but the Ozium Records release is accordingly sure of itself and of its aesthetic, culling influence both from the ‘90s stoner rock heyday (which 20 years on is its own kind of retro, I suppose) and the natural, laid-back vibing of modern European heavy psych, albeit more riff-based and with less of a focus on jamming than some of their contemporary upstarts. More Truckfighters than Colour Haze, if you want to put it in terms of bands, but even a Truckfighters comparison is only to tone, as Mamont never quite hit the same upbeat feel as the Örebro trio, instead riding out varying but ultimately mid-paced grooves and low-end largesse while letting the deeply-mixed , echoing vocals of guitarist Karl Adolfsson add psychedelic worldview to the lumbering progression of opener “Mammuten.” Almost certainly, the first track on Passing through the Mastery Door takes its title from its riff, through which Karl and fellow axe-wielder Jonathan Wårdsäter – relation assumed to bassist Victor Wårdsäter – establish an immediate “big” feel. Even when drummer Jimmy Karlsson veers away from the stomping kick bass and opens up onto his toms for the chorus vocal section or the reverb-drenched, wah guitar solo, the sound is spacious, and though later tracks like “Stonehill Universe” will inject a bit of boogie and “Creatures” will hint at the classic early ‘70s prog that’s become the foundation of so much modern doom, Mamont are never far from their tonal weight throughout the album’s manageable eight-track/42-minute sprawl. One can hardly blame them for sticking to what works. They use it well, as in the bellbottomed break halfway into “Blind Man (Part III)” – a sequel to “Blind Man (Part II)” from their prior and janglier self-titled EP, released in May of this year (review here) and presumably a first “Blind Man” that appeared earlier – which leads to a shuffle and one of Passing through the Mastery Door’s most irresistible grooves.
But even though they hold fast to their Big Muffs, it’s those little moments where they click off that in large part come to define the mood of Mamont’s full-length debut, which is one more way in which “Mammuten” makes for a solid leadoff as birdsongs lead to the initial thrust of fuzz before the more psychedelic side of the band is shown. Whether it’s the winding lead lines of “Creatures,” the not-to-be-ignored build in “Jad Sår Ett Frö,” or even the cooly ethereal bass-led stretch of “Stonehill Universe” in which the title line of the album is languidly delivered before a start-stop chorus of heavy guitar, Mamont gradually show a dynamic sensibility to their approach that – while burgeoning as one might expect it to be on a band’s first outing – proves effective in offseting some of the heavier push of air in those tracks and the more direct “The Secret of the Owl.” That leaves only the naturalist interlude “Woods” and closer “Satans Fasoner” (which translates to “Damn Manners” according to Google and may or may not actually have anything to do with the devil) to summarize and blend the varied sides of Mamont’s musical personality, which they do, though in all honestly, the real fun of Passing through the Mastery Door is the journey, not the arrival. From the nod-inducing “Mammuten” and energetic kick of “Jad Sår Ett Frö,” Mamont’s fuzz, however it might lumber pacing-wise, is not without movement, and with strong interplay between the hugeness of the guitar and bass tones and the echoing space in the vocals, by the time they shift their focus to the darker vibe of “Creatures” (also the longest track on the album at 6:39, though not by all that much), the trip on which they’re still just beginning to embark seems one that much more worth taking, Victor’s bass emerging as a key element in conveying both the band’s allegiance to stoner groove and the nascent chemistry between the players in the band as they jam out the midsection of “Creatures” before bringing back a final chorus.
