Underjordisk Tusmørke is the debut album from Oslo-based foursome Tusmørke. In English, the album title means “subterranean twilight,” and the name of the opening track, “Fimbul,” refers to the long, multi-year apocalyptic winter that precedes the end of the world in Norse mythology. So if you’re wondering precisely what kind of ground Tusmørke are covering on their first LP, it’s dark, it’s pagan, and cloaked in atmospheres cold enough to warrant the robes the band dons to present their material.

With flute, mellotron, Hammonds and a host of other bizarre flourishes, Underjordisk Tusmørke basks in its own strange otherworldliness. A proggish sense of pomposity bleeds into the arrangements, purposefully reaching toward the melodically grandiose in a way that would make Black Widow or Amon Düül II proud. The dual vocals of bassist Benediktator and floutist Krizla add depth and range to the six tracks of the album proper (three bonus tracks are included on the CD), only periodically touching on Tull-isms before taking darker turns pushed forward by drummer HlewagastiR and lent atmospheric richness by keyboardist Deadly Nightshade (also of noise crushers Årabrot). But always, weirdness prevails.

And chiefly, that’s why I’m interested. One listen to “Fimbul” and you know a goat-legged devil isn’t far off, but as much as classic prog has made itself felt across doom and pagan metals and heavy rock, Tusmørke approach the unabashed sense of strangeness that made the sound standout so much in the first place. Using elements of Scandinavian folk and an apparent affinity for vintage methods, they don’t so much lay claim to authenticity as make you wonder why you care so much about it to begin with.

Tusmørke‘s Underjordisk Tusmørke is due for release on CD/LP Nov. 9 (Nov. 13 in US) on Termo Records. Please enjoy “Fimbul” on the player below, followed by more info about the album, courtesy of the PR wire:

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The band’s history can be traced back to the mid-nineties and the budding, Scandinavian scene of new progressive bands. Back then, the Momrak twins who are the beating heart of Tusmørke called their band Les Fleurs de Mal. The band featured future Wobbler vocalist Andreas Prestmo, and they shared the stage with other up-and-coming bands like White Willow. Via intricate pathways, this evolved into Tusmørke, whose music is darker, more intense and dare we say primeval, than the more delicate Les Fleurs de Mal. The album you are holding in your hands will conjure up images of pagan rites, witches dancing in the firelight serenading the new moon, eldritch wizards conjuring dark spirits… And it’s no gimmick: This band lives and breathes the same air that flows through the magical lands their music describes.

The album has been expertly recorded and produced by that master of retro productions, Lars Fredrik Frøislie (Wobbler, White Willow, In Lingua Mortua), and sounds so authentically analog that you can practically smell the antique equipment that has been used for its making. Lars contributes mellotron, chamberlin, spinet, Hammond organ and a host of esoteric instruments on the album.

After two celebrated albums through Rise Above Records, London-based space proggers Litmus return to self-releasing with their fourth full-length, Slaughterbahn. The album finds the unit no less Hawkwindian than ever, heavy doses of mellotron bringing out a King Crimson-esque feel on songs like “Kommissar” and “Satellites” while other songs – and indeed, other parts of those songs – delve into heavier rock, punk, new wave and more modern, Porcupine Tree-style riffing. Foremost, it is super-British. Way British. All three members who were in the band when Slaughterbahn was recorded at Foel Studios – Simon (guitar, synth), Martin (bass, mellotron, synth) and Marek (drums, synth) – contribute vocals, and the songs vary widely across the album’s 12 tracks/47 minutes, the opening three cuts, “Deeper,” “Spark” and “Breakout” setting the tone for much the expanse that follows by bridging a gap between classic space jamming and synth-laden punk insistence, all the while keeping a mind toward riffy hooks. For example, as it’s presented on Slaughterbahn, the central riff of “Deeper” is surrounding by a swirling wash, but its fuzzy start-stop guitar line in the verse isn’t so far off from Queens of the Stone Age at their peak, and that Litmus take the progression to an impressive run of guitar soloing and bass fills rounded out by mellotron and keyboard layering only speaks to the cohesiveness of the trio’s vision. With a clean, smooth production, “Deeper” announces no dip in Litmus’ level of songwriting – the chorus is memorable and conveyed without stepping away from the necessary sense of prog indulgence – and, as the more straightforward “Spark” takes hold, it becomes increasingly apparent that Litmus have expanded their breadth, not contracted it. The mellotron melody underscoring the final chorus of “Deeper” cuts to silence, a quick “yep” begins “Spark” and immediately the song takes off, Marek’s snare double-timing while Martin’s bass runs circles around it, Simon’s guitar tossing in lead lines as the build mounts to the tracks’ finish with an encompassing synth swirl. Mellotron also rings through the background of “Breakout,” but the pacing is even faster, Litmus seeming to strip the sound further down to its roots with each passing track.

The thing to keep in mind at this point is that these songs are all pretty short, so it’s happening fast. “Deeper” is 3:53, “Spark” is 2:59 and “Breakout” is 1:44, so Slaughterbahn isn’t yet 10 minutes on before it firmly establishes both that indeed there is no speed limit and that the road before the trio is both skyward and winding. As though by necessity, “Static” begins with a sampled explosion. How could it not? Litmus certainly sounds ready to blow by the end of “Breakout” – which barely had time for its own chorus but remained catchy nonetheless – so at 5:17, it’s up to “Static” to hit the brakes a bit and still manage to keep the flow consistent, which, fortunately, it does. At 2:50, a thicker, fuzzier guitar is introduced and the effect both darkens the atmosphere – mellotron and synth continue to intertwine behind – and begins an instrumental build that plays out over the remainder of the track, Marek’s drums layering in quick hits even as the kit itself fades to silence in anticipation of the coming rush of “Streamers,” which has a kind of classic jangle in its guitar tone and poppy hook of a chorus, taking a cue from late ‘60s British psychedelia and modernizing the cadence even as colors are sounded out in semi-harmonized layers of vocals. Just when it seems they’ve wandered too far from their purpose, they pull back to the chorus to finish, leaving it to the highlight cut “Satellites” to revive the space rock vibing. The guitar seems to count down to the song’s eventual liftoff, dual vocals and synth coming on to top and fill out the verse while the chorus is less of a hook but still memorable overall, Martin rounding it out with some of Slaughterbahn’s best bass while Marek keeps the beat straightforward and the guitars gradually reemerge. It comes to a head after the second chorus – the lines “Take the heavens, give me the stars/Give me the future/Blind obsession left in the past,” standing out like the new paganism of science – and then the quick “1×1” (actually 1:20) affirms Litmus’ ascent with a quick linear run that devolves into sci-fi boops and beeps.

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Any fans of King Crimson‘s earliest days and/or the modern mellotron antics of Steven Wilson-era Opeth or Belgian rockers Hypnos 69‘s extra-proggy last record, The Eclectic Measure, will want to catch up with San Diego retro prog (henceforth to be referred to as “reprog” in these pages) containment unit Astra. Their shroomy Rise Above Records debut, The Weirding is a sweetly melodic, intricately-arranged excursion into the ’70s when the ’70s were young and the excesses arena rock had yet to take hold. There are some heavier moments peppered in the longer tracks, mostly arriving after sizeable buildups, but even so, it’s countryside prog all the way.

The five-piece (I can’t even remember the last time I wrote about a band with that many people in it on this site) outfit capture a specific moment in the development of their genre, when certain among the set of acid rockers decided that simply wasn’t smart enough for them, made a left turn and landed square in the midst of technically proficient psychedelic self-indulgence. Guitarists Richard Vaughan (also vocals, mellotron and echoplex), Conor Riley (also vocals, mellotron, “arp odyssey” and organ) and Brian Ellis (also vocals and moog) don’t go overly tech in their six-string work, but Astra, with their abundance of synth atmosphere and encompassing, engaging sound, could easily fall into the category of a kitchen-sink kind of band.

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