Another night in Toronto. It’s the end of July, and onstage at Bovine Sex Club, hometown-hero space-doom purveyors Sons of Otis are getting ready to play. The video camera has the three-piece founded by guitarist/vocalist Ken Baluke off to the left side of the frame. They look far away and sound it too, but that’s nothing new. Sons of Otis have been aurally gone for over 30 years now.
“Way I Feel” originally appeared on the band’s 2005 album, X, which followed 2001’s Songs for Worship in the post-Man’s Ruin era of the band — that seminal label had released their first two albums, 1996’s Spacejumbofudge (discussed here) and 1999’s Temple Ball (review here), before folding — and X found them on Small Stone after The Music Cartel put out Songs for Worship, a tumultuous period they resolved through molten riffs, massive, lurching groove, and cosmic vibes. In other words, they were Sons of Otis. If bong rock is a thing, Sons of Otis are gravity bong rock.
You can hear some conversation at the very start of the video. People are having a chat as one does between songs or bands. Sons of Otis were filling in this night for The Obsessed, who’d had to cancel a stint of Canadian shows and thusly left an open space at the top of the night’s lineup. Needless to say, they did the job admirably or they probably wouldn’t have put the video up.
I like bootlegs. If you feel the same, remember putting bootleg VHS tapes or DVDs in your player or listening to rough-sounding audience audio recordings, then this might resonate. What strikes me about it is how down to business the band is, and how they get up, hit the sample, lay waste, stop. I’ve never seen Sons of Otis, and already I knew this was an oversight, so I won’t call that fresh learning or anything, but certainly it points out the folly of living this long without.
So, road trip?
I don’t have any real reason for posting this other than it’s good. It’s not tied to an album release — the band put out their latest LP, Isolation (review here), in Fall 2020 through Totem Cat; the stream is below because who the hell wants to stop listening to Sons of Otis after one song? — or being put out to do any kind of active promotion that I know of. But that’s fine. I don’t need an excuse to dig in, and I think the a/v aesthetic value of the clip speaks for itself. In rumble.
Enjoy:
Sons of Otis, “Way I Feel” live in Toronto, July 29, 2023
No one knows how life started on earth. Comets carrying proteins smashing into warm-enough molecular carbon? Something about the tides? It’s pick-your-theory; only the finest of exact sciences. I personally believe that the organic stuff of all life on earth started in a great cosmic mudbubble slowly building over billions of years. Impossibly proportioned and existing in multiple dimensions, it grows with pressure from various gravitational pulls around it — nebulae, the odd far-off supercluster, on and on — and gurgles upward, churning and roiling slowly as though heated by a cauldron no one can see. This spans lightyears and is slower than trees. It sounds like Sons of Otis.
Based in Toronto, comprised now of guitarist/vocalist Ken Baluke, bassist Frank Sargeant and drummer Ryan Aubin, the stoner-doom trio to end all stoner-doom trios — and yes, I’m counting Sleep — oozed forth with Temple Ball in 1999. They began in 1992 and had already unleashed their debut album, Spacejumbofudge (review here), in 1996. A prime example of CD-era format priority, the sophomore outing runs 10 songs and 62 minutes, and it brought the band into the arms of Man’s Ruin Records, which is where they belonged — apart from the home they seem to have found now on Totem Cat, it seems like maybe Man’s Ruin is the only place they’ve ever really belonged — and was helmed by the late Frank Kozik, who passed away this Spring and of whom Sons of Otis said, “The ONLY label that ever paid us.” Fair enough.
Like a half-speed Monster Magnet circa Dopes to Infinity, Sons of Otis begin Temple Ball with “Mile High,” “Nothing” and “Vitus,” a three-song salvo ooze-fest, marked by Baluke‘s ultra-dense fuzz, Sargeant‘s accompanying low end, and the far-back drums of Emilio Mammone (or a drum machine? either way, he is now of Low Orbit; he left the band in 2001 and was replaced by Aubin). Wah-driven psych, echo drenching the throaty vocals, which are delivered with a sludgy addled shout. They might be bluesy in another context but Baluke‘s voice isn’t amelodic, as “Mile High” shows as it pushes and pulls through its five minutes, not actually all that slow but so thick it can’t help but sound that way anyhow. This will be the spirit of much of Temple Ball to come, and it’s quickly reaffirmed by the oh-here-it-is-we-found-it kick and low-end buzz and emergent noise of “Nothing.”
They are the epitome of aural dank, and the standard by which that particular genre tenet should be measured: “It’s dank, but does it sound as covered in little purple or orange hairs as Sons of Otis?” Probably not. “Vitus” is the stuff of legend, if perhaps only in my mind, and is the first of two included covers, bringing twisting psychedelic undulations to Saint Vitus‘ signature Wino-era piece “Born Too Late” as one of the few acts who could make it sound even more disaffected. From there, the record slams into a 10-minute wall somewhat ironically called “Windows Jam,” which is what it says as Sons of Otis sway over a languid tempo, Baluke‘s guitar tossing out references in a later solo. He shouts out “Super Typhoon” like they’re playing a show and Mammone is on the ride before switching to the crash, the groove seeming to get lost in its midsection before ending up in a final, almost improv-sounding verse.
“Down” leads off the shorter second half of the tracklisting — it’s also the start of LP2 on the 2012 Bilocation Records double-vinyl reissue — and is more solidified but meets that with blowout vocals and supreme lumbernod. I’ve listened to this record I don’t know how many times in the last 20 or so years and I still don’t have a clue what Baluke is saying, but it matters less when they land in the cover of Mountain‘s “Mississippi Queen,” which is only two and a half minutes long but that’s enough to ground the listener as “Vitus” does earlier, and gives Sons of Otis a landmark as they dig further into the end portion of the record, which goes even deeper into the far-out, with “New Mole” barely seeming to start in its nine-minute stone-drone sub-march, so clearly working in its own dimension of time, fading out into the Cheech & Chong sample that leads to the thudding, humming, gruff start of the penultimate “Steamroller.”
Arriving ahead of the sure-we’ve-got-room-for-one-more-nine-minute-jam finale “Diesel,” “Steamroller” uses tension in a different way than a lot of Temple Ball, with a particularly agonizing thud of drums behind its thickest-fuzz verse before it opens to the next part. Between “New Mole” and “Diesel,” it feels positively straightforward, but isn’t out of place among the similarly addled “Down” or even “Nothing” earlier on. And the ‘side B’ — it’s actually sides C and D — range expansion is an analog for the band’s affinity for the ’70s rock from which the trope comes, realized in the howls and hairy fuzz that roll, mellow and scorch through “Diesel” to end the record. You can almost smell the fumes, though more likely that’s a tube in one of Baluke‘s amps melting. They finish sure of their purpose and loose-grooving, but otherwise without ceremony, and that works. Somehow a big finish would be out of place on an album that’s so checked out from norms. Over-the-top in the wrong kind of way. Still, the jam pays it off before they’re done.
Sons of Otis have seven full-lengths in their catalog, the latest of which is 2020’s Isolation (review here), and much of what’s become their aesthetic in the years since is present in Temple Ball, which is less aggressive than the debut but still able to be mean when it wants. They’ve refined their processes, grown in their sound, all that shit bands hopefully do given time and at least a minimum of support, but Sons of Otis are and have long been singular in style — cavernous, crushing, bubbling, drifting in space, dug into the earth — and Temple Ball is likewise unto itself.
As always, I hope you enjoy. I’ve been waiting for this to stream somewhere for a long-ass time. Thanks for reading.
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Well, The Pecan punched a kid in the face at camp yesterday — fighting about something or other, frustrated because of whatever it doesn’t really matter — and we were asked not to bring her back today. There’s one day left in camp. One fucking day, and we didn’t make it. We were so close.
I had been saying in the car how great she had done to get through it, because last year it didn’t work at all, how proud I was, how we should do something special to mark the end of two weeks of camp, her first real full-day-out-of-the-house experience, playing in the creek, swimming in the lake (except earlier this week after we got a bunch of rain, which is what ruined the whole thing), and doing crafts. Last week she even did swim lessons. It was great. Don’t come back.
It wasn’t out of the blue, and the camp handled it well. Last week we got one “hey do you have a minute?” from the camp director about her losing it and so on. She bit a counselor at one point. And on Wednesday there was some issue or other and we picked her up early. But we were just trying to get through, trying to get the win, and we didn’t.
That took the wind out of the sails of what had otherwise been an okay few days. I worry about this kid. I see her, I see her around other kids, I see how she is as opposed to how they are, and I don’t really understand what’s going on. We’ve been to the doctors, we did early intervention when she turned two. She’s had years of OT, drilled through ways to calm her body when she’s upset — every take-a-breath, count-slowly, take-a-break, zones-of-regulation, etc. — and while I know these are things that need to be practiced and not at all cure-alls for any kind of emotional disregulation, she just gets overwhelmed and goes right to hitting now. It’s worse than it was before insurance kicked us out of OT.
So that is disheartening. Next week is zoo camp at the Turtle Back Zoo. It’s a half-day thing, and new, which is always good. Novelty, ever a plus. I hope she makes it through.
She’s up now, in ‘loafing’ with The Patient Mrs., which means playing some learning game or other on the iPad. I’ll grab yogurt in a bit for her, then go to the gym to swim. The Patient Mrs.’ sister and The Pecan’s cousins are coming down for the better part of the weekend from Connecticut, so I’m hopeful for some reorientation as a result. It’s raining today. Bath day. And I expect we’ll do a decent amount of reading to make up for what we didn’t do while she was at camp this week.
I don’t know. I worry. The Patient Mrs. thinks I’m ridiculous. Fair. We’re going to do a parenting class together in what’s called the ‘nurtured heart approach.’ I want to improve my relationship with The Pecan because all we ever fucking do is argue. I say a thing, she either ignores me, does what she wants anyway, or gets mad and hits. I take her to her room, tell her to take a break, and everybody gets a little sadder. We go about our business. Some other thing, inevitably, soon after. I try to stop myself from talking, because I’m trying to help but it just comes out shitty and sarcastic, and sometimes I physically remove myself from the room. And I get overwhelmed too. And I make it about me. Turns out I’m a terrible fucking person and a worse parent. What fun things to re-confirm on the march into middle age. Who knew I could disappoint on so many levels!
But yeah, one hopes next week is better, and even having hope is a good sign.
Great and safe weekend. Have fun, watch your head, hydrate, try not to punch anyone in the fucking face, all that stuff. I’m gonna go swim for a while.
[EDIT: No, I’m not, as neither of my bathing suits is clean. Guess I’ll do laundry instead. Maybe make another pot of coffee.]
Been a trip so far, has this Quarterly Review. It’s been fun to bounce from one thing to the next, drawing imaginary lines between releases that have nothing more to do with each other than being written up on the same day, and seeing the way the mind reels in adjusting from talking about one thing to the next. It’s a different kind of challenge to write 150-200 words (and often more than that; these reviews are getting too long) about a record than 1,000 words.
Less room to make your argument means you need to say what you want to say how you want to say it and punch out. If you’ve read this site with any regularity over the last however many years, or perhaps if you’re reading this very sentence right now, right here, you might guess that such efficiency isn’t a strong suit. This assessment would be correct. Fact is I suck at any number of things. A growing list.
But we’ve made it to Thursday anyhow and today this 70-record Quarterly Review passes its halfway point, and that’s always a fun thing to mark. If you’ve been digging it, I hope you continue to do so. If nothing’s hit, maybe today. If this is the first you’re seeing of any of it, well, that’s fine too. We’re all friends here. You can go back and dig in or not, as you prefer. I’ll keep going either way. Speaking of…
Quarterly Review #31-40:
The Howling Eye, List Do Borykan
I don’t often say things like this, but List Do Borykan is worth it for the opening jam of “Space Dwellers, Episode 1.” That does not mean that song’s languid flow, silly stoned space-adventure spoken word narrative, and flashes of dub and psych and so on, are all that Poland’s The Howling Eye have to offer on their third full-length. It’s not. The prior single “Medival” (sic) has a thoughtful arrangement led by post-Claypool funky bass and surf-style guitar, which are swapped out for hard-riff cacophony metal in the second half of the song’s 3:35 run. That pairing sets up a back and forth between longer jams and more structured material, but it’s all pretty out there when you hear the seven song/44 minutes of the entire record, as the 10-minute “Brothers” builds from silence to organ-laced classic rock testimony and then draws itself down to let the funkier/rolling (depending on which part you’re talking about) “Space Dwellers, Episode 2” provide a swaying melodic highlight, and “Caverns” drones into jazz minimalism for nine minutes before “Space Dwellers, Episode 3” goes full-on over-the-top 92-second dance party. Finally. That leaves the closer, “Johnny,” as the landing spot where the back and forth jams/songs trades end, and they’re due a jam and provide one, but “Johnny” also follows on theme from “Space Dwellers, Episode 3” and the start of “Medival” and other funk-psych stretches, so summarizes List Do Borykan well. Again, worth it for the first song, but is much more than just that as a listening experience.
Toronto-based folk experimentalist, vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Avi C. Engel starts off the 10-song Sanguinaria with the first of its headphone-ready arrangements “Sing in Our Chains” assessing modernity and realizing, “We were better off in the trees.” In addition to Engel‘s actual voice, which is well capable of carrying records on its own, with a distinctive character, part soft and breathy in delivery but resilient with a kind of bruised grace and, as time goes on, grown more adventurous. In “Poisonous Fruit” and “The Snake in the Mirror,” folk, soul and organically-cast sprawl unfold, and where “A Silver Thread” brings in electric guitar and lap steel, “Deathless” — the longest cut at 6:33, arriving paired with the subsequent, textural “I Died Again” — is sparse at first but builds around whatever stringed instrument Engel (slow talharpa?) is playing and Paul Kolinski‘s banjo, standout vocal harmonies and a subdued keeping of rhythm. Along with Kolinski, Brad Deschamps adds lap steel to the opener and the more-forward-in-percussion “Extasis Boogie,” which is listed as an interlude but nearly five minutes long, and Lys Guillorn contributes lap steel to “A Silver Thread,” with all due landscape manifestation. Sad, complex, and beautiful, the 52-minute long-player isn’t a minor undertaking on any level, and “Personne” and the penultimate “Bridge Behind the Sun” emphasize the point of intricacy before the looping “Larvae” masterfully crafts its resonance across the last six minutes of the album.
Begun in 1993 as Peach, London heavy prog rockers Suns of the Tundra celebrate 30 years with the encompassing hour-long The Only Equation, their fifth album, which brings back past members of the band, has a few songs with two drummers, and is wildly sprawling across 10 still-accessible tracks that shimmer with purpose and melody. The title-track seems to harken to a ’90s push, but the twisting and volume-surging back half stave redundancy ahead of the patient drama in the 10-minute “The Rot,” which follows. On the other side of the metal-leaning “Run Boy Run,” with its big, open, floating, thudding finish representing something Suns of the Tundra do very well throughout, the three-part cycle of “Reach for the Inbetween” could probably just as easily have been one 15-minute cut, but is more palatable as three, and loses nothing of its fluidity for it, the build in the third piece giving due payoff before “The Window is Wide” caps in deceptively hooky style. Whether one approaches it with the context of their decades or not, The Only Equation is deeply welcoming. And no, its proggy prog progness won’t resonate universally, but nothing does, and that doesn’t matter anyhow. Without giving up who they are creatively, Suns of the Tundra have made it as easy as they can for one to get on board. The rest is on the listener.
Natskygge sneak a little “Paranoid” into “Delir,” the instrumental opener/longest track (immediate points) of their second album, Eskapisme, and that’s just fine as dogwhistles go. The Danish classic psych rockers made a well-received self-titled debut in 2020 and look to expand on that outing’s classic vibe with this 34-minute eight-tracker, which is rife with creative ambition in the slower “Lys på vej” and the piano-laced “Fjern planet,” which follows, as well as in a mover/shaker like “Titusind år,” the compact three-minute strutter “Frit fald” or what might be the side B leadoff “Feberdrøm” with its circa-1999 Brant Bjork casual groove and warm fuzz, purposefully veering into psychedelia in a way that feels like a preface for the closing duo “Livet brænder,” an organ/keyboard flourish, grounded verse and airy swirls over top leading smoothly into the likewise-peppered but acoustically-based “Den der sidst gik ud,” which conveys patience without giving up the momentum the band has amassed up to that point. I’ll note that my ignorance of the Danish language doesn’t feel like it’s holding me back as “Fjern planet” holds forth its lush melancholy or “Titusind år” signals the band’s affinity for krautrock. Not quite vintage in production, but not too far off, Eskapisme feels like it was made to be lived with, the songs engaged over a period of years, and I look forward to revisiting accordingly.
Portland’s Last Giant reportedly had a bit of a time recording their fourth long-player, Monuments, in a months-long process involving multiple studios and a handful of producers, among them Adam Pike (Holy Grove, Young Hunter, Red Fang, Mammoth Salmon, etc.) recording basic tracks, Paul Malinowski (Shiner, Open Hand) mixing and three different rounds of mastering. Complicated. Working as the three-piece of founder, principal songwriter, guitarist and vocalist RFK Heise (ex-System and Station), bassist Palmer Cloud and drummer Matt Wiles — it was just Heise and Wiles on 2020’s Let the End Begin (review here) — the band effectively fill in whatever cracks may have been apparent to them in the finished product, and the 10-track/39-minute offering is pop-informed as all their output to-date has been and loaded with heart. Also a bit of trumpet on “Saviors.” There’s swagger in “Blue” and “Hell on Burnside,” and “Feels Like Water” is about as weighted and brash as I’ve heard Last Giant get — a fun contrast to the acoustic “Lost and Losing,” which closes — but wherever a given track ends up, it is deftly guided there by Heise‘s sure hand. Sounds like it was much easier to make than apparently it was.
Growth is either the second or third full-length from Polish heavy psych doomers Moonstone depending on what you count, but by the time you’re about three minutes into the 7:47 of second cut “Bloom” after the gets-loud-at-the-end-anyway atmospheric intro “Harvest” — which establishes an undercurrent of metal that the rest of the six-song/36-minute LP holds even in its quietest parts — ordinal numbering won’t matter anyway. “Bloom” and “Sun” (8:02), which follows, are the longest pieces on Growth, and that in itself speaks to the band stripping back some of their jammier impulses as compared to, say, late 2021’s two-song 12″ 1904 (discussed here), but while the individual tracks may be shorter, they give up nothing as regards largesse of tone or the spaces the band inhabit in the material. Flowing and doomed, “Sun” ends side A and gives over to the extra-bass-punch meditativeness of “Night,” the guitar building in the second half to solo for the payoff, while the six-minutes-each “Lust” and “Emerald” filter Electric Wizard haze and the proggy volume trades of countrymen like Spaceslug, respectively, close with due affirmation of purpose in big tone, big groove, and a noteworthy dark streak that may yet come to the fore of their approach.
It’s not quite the centerpiece, but in terms of the general perspective on the world of the record from which it comes, there’s little arguing with Sonic Demon‘s “F.O.A.D.” as the declarative statement on Veterans of the Psychic War. As with Norway’s Darkthrone, who released an LP titled F.O.A.D. in 2007, Sonic Demon‘s “F.O.A.D.” stands for ‘fuck off and die,’ and that seems to be the central ethic they’re working from. Like most of what surrounds on the Italian duo’s follow-up to 2021’s Vendetta (review here), “F.O.A.D.” is coated in tonal dirt, a nastiness of buzz in line with the stated mentality making songs like swinging opener “Electric Demon” and “Lucifer’s the Light,” which follows, raw even by post-Uncle Acid garage doom standards. There are moments of letup, as in the wah-swirling second half of “The Black Pill,” a bit of psych bookending in “Wolfblood,” or the penultimate (probably thankfully) instrumental “Sexmagick Nights,” but the forward drive in “The Gates” highlights the point of Sonic Demon hand-drilling their riffs into the listener’s skull, and the actually-stoned-sounding groove of closer “To Hell and Back” seems pleased to bask in the filth the album has wrought.
If you’re taking on From the Ages‘ deceptively-titled first full-length, II — the trio of guitarist Paul Dudziak, bassist Sean Fredrich and drummer David Tucker issued their I EP in 2021, so this is their second release overall — it is perhaps useful to know that the only inclusion with vocals is opener/longest track (immediate points) “Harbinger.” An automatic focal point for that, for its transposed Sleep influence, and for being about four minutes longer than anything else on the album, it draws well together with the five sans-vox cuts that follow, with an exploratory sensibility in its jam that feels like it may be from whence a clearly-plotted song like “Maelstrom” or the lumbering volume trades of “Tenebrous” originate. Full in tone and present in the noisy slog and pre-midpoint drift of “Epoch” as well as Dudziak‘s verses in “Harbinger,” From the Ages seem willful in their intention to try out different ideas, whether that’s the winding woe of “Obsolescence” or the acoustilectric standalone guitar of closer “Providence,” and while that can make the listener less sure of where their development might take them in stylistic terms, that only results in their being more exciting to hear in the now.
Not only is Astral Magic‘s Cosmic Energy Flow — released in May of this year — not the first outing from the Finnish space rock outfit led by project founder and spearhead Santtu Laakso in 2023, it’s the eighth. And that doesn’t include the demo short release with a live band. It’s also not the latest Astral Magic about two months after the fact, as Laakso and company have put out two full-lengths since. Unrealistic as this level of productivity is — surely the work of dimensional timeporting — and already-out-of-date as the eight-song/42-minute LP might be, it also brings Laakso into collaboration with the late Nik Turner of Hawkwind, who plays sax on the opening title-track, as well as guitarists Ilya Lipkin of Russia’s The Re-Stoned and Stefan Olesinski (Nuns on Napalm), and vocalists Christina Poupoutsi (The Higher Craft, The Meads of Asphodel, etc.) and Kev Ellis (Dubbal, Heliotrope, etc.), and where one might think so many personnel shifts around Laakso‘s synth-forward basic tracks would result in a disjointed offering, well, anything can happen in space and when you throw open doors in such a way, expectations broaden accordingly. Maybe it’s just one thing on the way to the next, maybe it’s the record with Nik Turner. Either way, Astral Magic move inextricably deeper into the known and unknown cosmos.
Until the solo hits in the second half of “The Barrens,” you almost don’t realize how much space there is in the mix on Green Inferno‘s Trace the Veins. The New Jersey trio like it dank and deathly as they answer the rawness of their 2019 demo with the six Esben Willems-mastered tracks of their first album, porting over “Spellcaster” and “Unearth the Tombs” to rest in the same mud as malevolent plodders like “Carried to the Pit” and the penultimate “Vultures,” which adds higher-register screaming to the already-established low growls — I doubt it’s actually an influence, but I’m reminded of Amorphis circa Elegy — that give the whole outing such an extreme persona if the guitar and bass tones weren’t already taking care of it. The tortured feel there carries into closer “Crown the Virgin” as the three-piece attempt to stomp their own riffs into oblivion along with everything else, and one can only hope they get there. New songs or the two older tracks, doesn’t matter. At any angle you might choose, Green Inferno are slow-churned extreme sludge, death-sludge if you want, fully stoned, drenched in murk, disillusioned, misanthropic. It’s the sound of looking at the world around you and deciding it’s not worth saving. Did I mention stoned? Good.
Posted in Whathaveyou on June 19th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
There’s nothing streaming from this yet, and I haven’t had two seconds to dig in, but I’m posting this release announcement because I have the distinct suspicion that a split pairing Ontario’s AAWKS and Phoenix, Arizona’s Aiwass could be a really cool listen for more than just the bands’ shared affinities for vowels and riffs. Both are newer/new-ish units built around a solid foundation of heavy songwriting, and that they’re working around a common theme across the release — you can read about it below, you’ll pardon if I skip the summary and just say that I hope a century from now there are stoner rock bands writing material based on the life and times of twice-now US presidential candidate Marianne Williamson — should be taken as a further clue that the release, titled The Eastern Scrolls, is more than a hodgepodge of studio leftovers.
Black Throne Productions will have the split out on Aug. 25. I’ll hope to have more coverage on it before then. Here’s what the PR has for details at present:
Psychedelic Outfits AAWKS And AIWASS Join Forces On New Split
Fuzz and buzz take over as psychedelic outfits AAWKS and AIWASS join forces on new split, The Eastern Scrolls, due out August 25th via Black Throne Productions. A concept album that explores the life and legend of Russian mystic Madame Helena Blavatsky. A woman who enjoyed a diverse career as a circus horse rider, a professional pianist, a business woman, and a spiritualist, Madame Helena Blavatsky is best known as one of the founders of Theosophy, a spiritual movement based in the ancient tradition of occultism, and the esoteric doctrines of Hermeticism and Neoplatonism. The Eastern Scrolls is available for pre-order HERE: https://blackthroneproductions.com/en-us/collections/all
“AAWKS is honored to be able to present The Eastern Scrolls to you with the our good friends in AIWASS,” AAWKS elaborates. “There have been many mysterious and odd synchronistic and coincidental events related to Madame Helena Blavatsky and AAWKS and we believe that there may even be a possibility that she’s channeling her otherworldly self into the sounds of this release.”
“We hope that you enjoy what we’ve collectively put forth and, if you’re so inclined, to do some reading about this mysterious, interesting and controversial woman and all of the truly spectacular things she did or may have done.”
“This project has been an experience I didn’t see hitting me the way it has.” further adds AAWKS’ Randy Babic. “Delving into her life and works, hearing naysayers and followers gave me energy and enthusiasm.”
“Thinking about what she did in her time and what she introduced to the world was an overwhelming feeling of wonder and pride for women. She resisted the norm, fought for her beliefs and mystically took on everything in front of her. Near death experiences, haters and husbands couldn’t tie her down from her true calling. Blessed to have had the challenge to create something in honor of her life.”
“Madame Blavatsky was in search of a universal religion – we’re in search of a universal sound that reflects her beliefs,” concludes AIWASS. “These songs were inspired not just by what Blavatsky said, but what she might well have done. I’m beyond thrilled to be a part of this and go through the journey of listenership with my compatriots in AAWKS and our listeners.”
Coming off their respective debut albums, Nova Scotian cosmic rockers Earth Altar and Toronto sometimes-gonna-doom-but-just-as-likely-to-psych-jam trio Sun Below — whose very monikers seem to tell the story about space, worship, and exploration that pans out in their songs — will issue their joint Inter Terra Solis split LP through Black Throne Productions on Sept. 15. The offering brings together the two Canadian bands for a showcase that runs 40 minutes and gives each act time to make an impression on their respective side, Earth Altar presenting five songs (four and an interlude) in a narrative arc while Sun Below donate two longer tracks and their own interlude heavy jam between. What draws them together across Inter Terra Solis is a shared affinity for melding different styles from under the umbrella of capital-‘h’ Heavy.
The sans-guitar configuration of Earth Altar, with bassist/vocalist Spencer Trout, drummer/vocalist Jon MacIsaac and maybe synthesist/keyboardist/vocalist Katie Wayne — not listed as a member, but there’s definitely synth on the tracks; hence “maybe” — lends an immediately individual feel to their “The Descent” at the outset of the split, bass and drums unfolding in proggy contemplation while higher-end melodies float over top. Never quite tipping over to cinema-style evocation, they are atmospheric just the same, and hypnotic in the circular movement of the basslines, which hint toward a Sabbathism that Sun Below will soon bear out, but give over first to the brighter-hued unfurling of “The Garden of Earthly Delights,” a play of interwoven loops that might just cure your headache keeping largely to its singular procession before the music seems to lie down and stretch out; a savasana moment conveyed through tempo relaxation.
That exhale carries over into the aptly-named 48-second “Interlude,” which sweeps via synth/keys into “In the Growing Light of Anthelion,” which builds tension through a series of beeps that might be Morse Code before digging deeper into a heavy psychedelic movement that calls to mind a not-instrumental version — vocals are used mostly atmospherically, but they exist — of earliest My Sleeping Karma highlighting a Colour Haze influence. The direction is plotted, the journey engaging, and the bassline no less righteous as the second half grows more melodic and the vocals seem to dissipate. Carrying directly into “Transmutation (The Alchemist’s Dream),” Earth Altar follow the pattern of technical nuance and overarching shroomy serenity, capping in a manner that feels resolved even before the synth drone at the finish starts to fade away to the stretch of silence at the song’s end.
It is from there that Sun Below‘s “Red Giant” rises, guitar of Jason Craig (also vocals) howling immediately as if to remind the listener that those things exist. Drummer Will Adams thudding away on his toms behind, bassist Liam “Acid Goblin” Gray — who wins outright as regards nicknames and not just because he’s the only one who has one here — finds room in the mix to make an impression of his own as the riff solidifies and the forward roll begins in earnest. “Red Giant” and closing track “Gravity Tide” both top eight minutes long, and the interlude “Methuselah Star” (2:16) does well to separate them so that the listener doesn’t get any more lost than they might want in the also-mostly-instrumental lumber of the one and then the other, though as might happen when one band has a guitar and one band doesn’t on a split release, Sun Below come across as more riff-based, even as they hold onto some of the spontaneous feel that made Earth Altar‘s work so enticing.
Sabbath is an undercurrent in the leads throughout the second half of “Red Giant,” but “Methuselah Star” seems to speak more in tone and groove to Sleep circa The Sciences, and after it marches out slowly but surely, “Gravity Tide” answers that with an immediately Pikean nod which the band duly rides for most of the first half of the track, vocals buried but echoing when they arrive, cadenced to match the Sleep vibe. It is nonetheless an impressive wall of fuzz they build — sturdy and declarative — and the wall is the point. Sometimes you write a riff that you might want to play for eight minutes, and sometimes you work a little “War Pigs” in there too in the later layers of lead guitar. With Gray splatter-bassing distortion behind and Adams‘ snare punching through with its own admirably dense tonality, “Gravity Tide” is brought to a conclusion no more forced than was anything prior; the unspoken theme of their time an instrumental chemistry on ready display.
I will not claim to have any insight on what either Earth Altar or Sun Below have planned next, if anything. Earth Altar‘s self-titled debut — which they issued as a trio — came out in May 2022, and Sun Below‘s sprawling self-titled (review here) was issued in late 2021, collecting numerous jams from prior short releases and new material. Whatever the future brings for compatriots, they take advantage of the chance on Inter Terra Solis to complement each other’s work without accomplishing the same ends musically — that is, they fit well together without sounding the same — and if the goal here is to give listeners fodder for digging further back into the standalone records and other sundry jams (all of which are of course streaming and immediately available because while the world is terrible the future is also amazing), then both bands succeed outright. You might end up surprised at some of the places Inter Terra Solis puts you.
As it’s a September release, obviously it’s too early to stream the entire split, but I’ve been given permission to host Earth Altar‘s “The Descent” as the first single, and you’ll find it below, followed by more info from the PR wire.
The progressive space rock/doom metal hybrid EARTH ALTAR and heavy stoner/doom power trio SUN BELOW unleash a riff-heavy journey across time and the cosmos on their upcoming split album Inter Terra Solis. Having sculpted an epic ride of distorted guitar, vocals and trippy lyrics, the bands explore the labyrinth of the human psyche and the unpredictability of the universe within a ponderous palette of crushing doom and stoner-tinged mystery. The Inter Terra Solis is due out on September 15th via Black Throne Productions.
First on the split, EARTH ALTAR is the interplay between the complex, diverse drum style of Jon MacIsaac and the unique, ethereal bass guitar playing of Spencer Trout. EARTH ALTAR seeks to leave these mundane bonds and ascend through the heavy and the other-worldly. Mixing stoner rock, doom metal, space rock, and psych rock with progressive song structures, cosmic musings, and world-wide influences; EARTH ALTAR sounds uniquely themselves.
Closing out the album with three immense tracks, SUN BELOW is a heavy stoner/doom power trio playing a signature brand of self-described “Sativa rock”: a combination of fuzz, volume, and heavy grooves. SUN BELOW seek to spread their infectious, rollicking sound to the masses and their mission remains to create riff heavy rock fused with the sonic weight of crushing doom. The current lineup of Jason Craig (guitars/vocals), Liam “Acid Goblin” Gray (bass) and Will Adams (drums) blend these elements into long burning jams that worship at the altar of tone, riffs, and smoke.
As above, so below, the duality of the underworld and the cosmos, the microcosm and the macrocosm is thoroughly traversed through the lyrical themes and tones of each band. While EARTH ALTAR and SUN BELOW tackle a different aspect of our reality and nature, each is intimately tied with the other.
Inter Terra Solis Track Listing: Earth Altar – The Descent Earth Altar – The Garden of Earthly Delights Earth Altar – Interlude Earth Altar – In The Growing Light Of Anthelion Earth Altar – Transmutation (The Alchemist’s Dream) Sun Below – Red Giant Sun Below – Methuselah Star (Interlude) Sun Below – Gravity Tide
Posted in Questionnaire on May 15th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Kyle White of Hounskull
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I make music that’s a combination of my favorite genres, I try to make music id want to listen to but haven’t found any bands that hit it exactly. Started playing with friends in highschool and it just grew from there changing with the new music I was discovering.
Describe your first musical memory.
I had wanted a guitar for ages and one year for Christmas my mother and father got me a black and white strat and I just strummed random notes trying to play “Smoke on the Water.”
Describe your best musical memory to date.
It would probably be my first concert I saw Rammstein with my friend in high school, they put on an amazing show, very theatrical and it really made an imprint on me.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
There was a time when I only viewed music made with guitars drums and bass a typical rock band line up as worthwhile, but as I’ve met new people and had people show me and force me to listen more electronic and programmed music iv come around, my good friend makes electronic music as well as doom metal and he showed me how synths and programmed drums and other sources of sound can be very valuable and expressive. I used to be pretty elitist with my music but now I seek out sound in any ways I can
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I feel it leads to new avenues of expression, as you learn more and progress more you developed new tools to express more complex emotions.
How do you define success?
Being able to do what you want without worry of financial hurdles, or rather having something that can sustain itself without relying on outside sources.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Nothing, I do not regret or wish any experience I’ve had didn’t happen, even the disturbing is a valuable experience and something can be learned from it if processed correctly.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I’d like to create a horror movie, I’m a huge fan of horror and although I don’t think I’d have a new take on the genre it’s something I’m passionate about and would like contribute to in even just a small way.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Self expression and connection, music is like a universal language that people can express complex emotions with out saying a word and people who don’t speak the same language can understand something about each other just through music.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Just camping with my close friends, I like to get away as much as possible and spending time in nature with no technology and having deep conversations with the people I love is what I look forward to every spring and summer.
Posted in Questionnaire on May 2nd, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Liam Deak from Tumble
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I’m a musician making the music I want to hear, with the hope that others can get as much joy out of the sounds I create as I can. I got my first acoustic guitar at the age of 12, which quickly set me on my path of writing and performing songs.
Describe your first musical memory.
Hearing “(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction” by The Rolling Stones… which isn’t to say it was the first song I ever heard or anything like that, but when I was just a kid and heard that song something really clicked in my head. That hook instantly got me and left me wanting more, and it was the first time I really heard all the instruments in a song working together to make it greater than the sum of its parts, ya know? It was a huge revelation, especially at that age.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
There are already so many, but here’s the first one that comes to mind. One summer a few years back, me and a group of friends were camping on this big farm property. We had an outdoor stage, a fire pit, pig roast, “party favours”, you know the deal… anyhow, it was this big beautiful time with lots of laughs, lots of food and jams around the fire. Once the sun went down, a few of us got up on that stage and cranked our amps under that huge star-filled sky and jammed until the sun nearly came back up and our gear was soaked wet from all the morning dew. It was a magical experience. The nearby neighbour didn’t seem to mind, until he pulled out his lawn tractor first thing in the morning to give us a little taste of our own medicine.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
We once got asked to join this bill at a venue in town which was all groovy and we were all for it, but then a day or two before the show we were told we had to “pay to play” which was never mentioned beforehand, so we had to defer the offer. That’s a firmly held belief of ours, we sure as shit don’t pay to play!
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
To something far bigger than words can possibly explain.
How do you define success?
Is there such a thing as success, or is it only an idea? As soon as we strive to arrive at that destination which is success, we just want more and are bound to further conflict. If you love doing something with all that you’ve got, you’re not concerned with failure or success. You’re already there.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
I once saw this homeless dude laying in the middle of the sidewalk whip out his little feller and take a piss in broad daylight just as a young mother was walking by with her kid in a stroller. Damn, dude… we’ve all pissed in public but did ya have to do it right there and then?
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
The first full-length Tumble LP.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
To make us question ourselves and the world around us. To bring us together. To inspire us to create more art.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Travelling around Europe again. I love it out there, and there’s still so many places I haven’t been to yet. Toronto is great in the summer but the long winter’s can be pretty bitter, and I’m all about that hot weather!
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 25th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
When was the last time you put on a record that was Slayer one minute and Earthride the next? Well, I guess if you have those particular listening habits maybe it hasn’t been all that long, but that’s a one-two that comes together at the outset of Olde Grale‘s debut five-tracker Blood of Fools just the same, the riffing of title-track duly thickened to warrant being the work of two bands together. Those two bands? Olde and Grale, of course.
I won’t pretend to know when it happened or what prompted it, but at some point, the Toronto-based outfits got together and made this sub-25-minute crusher with no apparent regrets. Intricate and prog-metallic in “Senile Dementia” before the gallop takes off, alternately chugging and pummeling thereafter, with the slower “Unseen Reaper” backing to emphasize largesse, the EP seems to follow ideas from multiple sources but wants nothing for cohesion, capping with a rush in “Faith Healer” that, even if Grale hadn’t covered Entombed before might be enough to make one think they should.
Does is slow to a crushing finish? No! They end with all good speed and do justice to the thrust shown throughout without necessarily giving up the tonal density one would hope for with two bassists on board. If you’re still reading this, I’ll be honest and say I don’t know why. The player’s at the bottom of this post, and Salt of the Earth has CDs — that’s right, kids: compact discs; they use lasers and are from the future — so by all means, dig in:
OLDE + GRALE = OLDE GRALE
WHEN TWO GREAT THINGS COME TOGETHER = BLOOD OF FOOLS
From caveman sludge through hook-laden smoked-out grooves all the way to razor-sharp thrash, OLDE GRALE is made up of 8 Canadians who care little about labels or rules; they only want to crush you.
“Blood of Fools” is a 5-song trip that runs the gamut of all things heavy. 70s riff rock, monolithic doom, speed metal and thrash, OLDE GRALE bring the goods that any fan of aggressive music should appreciate in spades.
A complete celebration of the underground, step up and get knocked down.
Recorded remotely and at BWC STUDIOS (Kingston) and mixed/mastered by Greg Dawson of BWC Studios. All songs by Olde and Grale.
Guitars: Greg Dawson and Chris “Hippy” Hughes Drums: Ryan Aubin and Kevin Farmer Vocals: Doug McLarty and Daniel Allen Bass: Mark Rand and Cory McCallum
