I’m drinking coffee out of a different mug today. It may not surprise you to learn that I’m particular about that kind of thing. I have two mugs — one from Baltimore, one from Salem, Mass. — that are the same. They are huge, blue and black, and they curve slightly inward at the top. They can hold half of a 10-cup pot of coffee. I use one of them per day for a pot in the morning.

Not today. The Pecan gifted me a Mr. Spock mug — he’s in his dress uniform, so it’s likely based on the TOS episode ‘Journey to Babel,’ where we meet his parents for the first (our time) time — and it’s smaller and lighter in the hand, will require an extra trip up to the kitchen to finish the pot, but I think she’ll be glad to see me use it, and maybe that’ll help her get a decent start to the day in a bit when she comes downstairs.

Today’s the last day for this week of QR, but we dive back in on Monday and Tuesday to close out. Hope you find something you dig, and if I don’t catch you at the closeout post for the week, have a great weekend.

Quarterly Review #41-50:

Motorpsycho, Yay!

Long-running and prolific Norwegian prog rockers Motorpsycho have proven time and again their stylistic malleability across their north-of-100-strong catalog of releases, and comprised of 10 tracks running 42 minutes of acoustic-led-but-still-lushly-arranged, melodic and sometimes folkish craft. If you ever needed an argument that Motorpsycho could have been writing simplified, ultra-accessible, soundtrack-to-your-summer fare — and I’m not sure you have — Yay! provides that, with a classic feel in the harmonies of “Sentinels” and “Dank State,” though the lyrics in that last cut and in pieces like the leadoff “Cold & Bored,” the later isolated strummer “Real Again (Norway Shrugs and Stays at Home)” and in the lost-love-themed “Loch Meaninglessness and the Mull of Dull” have a cynical current to their framing contrasts that the outwardly pretty face lent to it by the Paul Simon-style lead vocals from Bent Sæther (also guitar, mandolin, omnichord here and more elsewhere). If the record is a gimme for an audience looking for a more earthbound Motorpsycho, then the arrival of the 7:46 “Hotel Daedalus” is where they give a nod to the heavier heads in their fanbase, with one of several guest spots from Reine Fiske (Dungen, Träden, etc.) and a shift in the balance between electric and acoustic guitar and synth at the foreground. Standout as that is, it’s also consistent with the spirit of Yay! more generally, which is built to be more complex in emotion than it presents on its face, and the work of masters, whether they’re writing longform prog epics or sweet closer “The Rapture,” which paints the change of seasons through an image of unmelted leftover snow “sulking in the shade.” One should expect no less than that kind of reach and attention to expression, and one should never engage Motorpsycho with expectations beyond that.

Motorpsycho on Facebook

Stickman Records store

Det Nordenfjeldske Grammofonselskab site

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Severed Satellites, Aphelion

“Apollo,” which was the first single released by Severed Satellites, opens the Baltimore instrumentalists’ first EP, Aphelion, as well, its uptempo blues-informed groove an enticing beginning before “Lost Transmissions” digs further into riffer nod. With five tracks running 27 minutes, Severed Satellites — guitarist Matt Naas, keyboardist Dave Drell, bassist Adam Heinzmann and drummer Chuck Dukehart, the latter two both of heavy rockers Foghound, among others — offer material that’s built out of jamming but that is not itself the jam. Songs, in other words. Recorded by Noel Mueller at Tiny Castle Studio, the EP proves solid through “Lost Transmissions” and the bassier “Hurtling Toward Oblivion” with its ending comedown leading into the coursing keyboard waveform at the start of “Breaking Free From Orbit,” which is the longest inclusion at 7:21 and uses most of that extra time in the intro, building afterward toward a ’70s strutting apex that puts energy ahead of largesse before the keys lead the way out in the two-minute outro “Reaching Aphelion.” Through the variety in the material, Severed Satellites showcase a persona that knows what it’s about and presents that fluidly to the listener with a minimum of indulgence. A rousing start.

Severed Satellites on Facebook

Severed Satellites on Bandcamp

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Edena Gardens, Live Momentum

The collaboration between baritone/bass guitarist Martin Rude, drummer Jakob Skøtt, both also of Danish psych-jazz and psych-as-jazz explorers Causa Sui, and guitarist Nicklas Sørensen of molten-but-mellow jammers Papir, Edena Gardens issue their first and perhaps not last live album in Live Momentum, a three-song set taped at Jaiyede Jazz Festival — their first onstage appearance — in 2022 and pressed concurrent to the second Edena Gardens studio full-length, Agar (review here) while still not so far removed from their 2022 self-titled debut (review here). “Veil” from the sophomore LP opens, with a thicker guitar sound and more active delivery from the stage, a heavier presence in the guitar early on, hinting at Link Wray and sounding clear enough that the applause at the end is a surprise. Taken from the self-titled, “Now Here Nowhere” is more soothing and post-rocking in its languidity — also shorter at seven minutes — an active but not overbearing jazz fusion, while side B’s 17-minute “Live Momentum” would seem to be the occasion for the release. Exploratory at the start, it settles into a groove that’s outright bombastic in comparison to the other two tracks, brings down the jam and pushes it out, growing in volume again late for a slow, howling finish. What should be a no-brainer to those who’ve heard the band, Live Momentum portrays a side of Edena Gardens that their ‘proper’ albums — which is also where new listeners should begin — hasn’t yet shown, which is no doubt why it was issued to start with. Only fortunate.

Edena Gardens on Facebook

El Paraiso Records store

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Delco Detention, Come and Get It!

Following up 2022’s What Lies Beneath (review here) and the intervening covers collection, Cover Ups, and the Crack the Lock EP, prolific Pennsylvania heavy rock outfit Delco Detention, led by the son/father duo of Tyler and Adam Pomerantz return with their Come and Get It! is suitably exclamatory fashion. The nine-track collection is headlined by a guest guitar spot from Earthless‘ Isaiah Mitchell on “Earthless Delco” near the album’s middle, but stop-bys from familiar parties like Kevin McNamara and Mike DiDonato of The Age of Truth and Jared Collins of Mississippi Bones, among others, assure diversity in the material around the foundation of groovy heavy rock. Clutch remain a strong influence — and the record finishes with a take on “I Have the Body of John Wilkes Booth” — but the fuzzy four minutes of the penultimate “Rock and Roll God” and the swing in opener “Domagoj Simek Told Me Quitters Never Smoke” continue to show the band’s growth in refining their songwriting process and aligning the right performers with the right songs, which they do.

Delco Detention on Facebook

Delco Detention on Bandcamp

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The Gray Goo, Circus Nightmare

The second full-length from Montana heavy-funk shenanigans purveyors The Gray Goo, Circus Nightmare, sounds like there’s a story to go along with every song, whether it’s the tale of “Nightstocker” no doubt based on a 24-hour grocery store, or the smoke-weed-now anthem “Pipe Hitter” that so purposefully and blatantly takes on Sleep‘s “Dragonaut,” or even the interlude “Cerulean” with its backward wisps of guitar leading into the dreamy-Ween-esque, Beatles-reference-dropping “Cosmic Sea,” or the Primus-informed absurdity of “Alligator Bundee,” which leads off, and the garage punk that caps in “Out of Sight (Out of Mind).” Equal parts brilliant and dopey, “BEP” is a brief delve into surf-toned weirdness while “Wizards of the Mountain” pays off the basement doom of “Pipe Hitter” just before with its raw-captured slowdown, organ included in its post-midpoint creep and “Cumbia de Montana” is perhaps more dub than South American-style mountain jamming — though there’s a flute — but if you want to draw a line and tell me where one ends and another starts, I won’t argue. Bottom line is that after an encouraging start in last year’s 1943 (review here), The Gray Goo are more sure of themselves and more sure of the planet’s ridiculousness. May they long remain so certain and productive. Heavy rock needs more oddballs.

The Gray Goo on Facebook

The Gray Goo on Bandcamp

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Shit Hexis, Shit Hexis

It’s like they packed it with extra nasty. The seven-song/27-minute Shit Hexis is the debut offering from Saarbrücken, Germany’s Shit Hexis, and it stabs, it scathes, it skin-peels and not in the refreshing way. Flaying extreme sludge riffs presented with the cavernous echo and murky purposes of black metal, it is a filthy sound but not completely un-cosmic as “Latrine Odins” feedsback and lumbers through its 92 seconds, or “Erde” drone-plods at terrifying proportion. On paper, Shit Hexis share a mindset with the likes of Come to Grief or even earlier Yatra in bringing together tonal weight with aesthetics born out of the more extreme ends of heavy metal, but their sharp angles, harsh tones and the echoing rasp of “Le Mort Saisit le Vif” are their own. Not that fucking matters, because when you’re this disaffected you probably don’t give a shit about originality either. But as their first release of any kind, even less than a half-hour of exposure seems likely to cause a reaction, and if you’re ever somewhere that you need people not to be, the misanthropic, loathing-born gurgling of “Mkwekm” should do the trick in clearing a room. This, of course, is as the duo of guitarist/vocalist Mo and drummer Pat designed it to be, and so, wretched as it is, their self-titled can only be called a success. But what a vision thereof.

Shit Hexis on Facebook

Bleeding Heart Nihilist Productions website

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Oromet, Oromet

That Sacramento, California, two-piece Oromet — guitarist/vocalist/layout specialist Dan Aguilar and drummer/bassist/synthesist/backing vocalist/engineer Patrick Hills — have a pedigree between them that shares time in Occlith accounts for some of the unity of intent on the grandly-unfolding death-doom outfit’s self-titled three-song Transylvanian Recordings debut full-length. Side A is dedicated solely to the opener/longest track (immediate points) “Familiar Spirits” (22:00), which quiets down near the finish to end in a contemplative/reflective drone, and earlier positions Oromet among the likes of Dream Undending or Bell Witch in an increasingly prevalent, yet-untagged mournful subset of death-doom. “Diluvium” (11:31) and “Alpenglow” (10:07) follow suit, the former basking in the beauty in its own darkness and sounding duly astounded as it pounds its way toward a sudden stop to let the residual frequencies swell before carrying into the latter, which is gloriously tortured for its first six minutes and comes apart slowly thereafter, having found a place to dwell in the melodic aftermath. Crushing spiritually even as it reaffirms the validity of that pain, it is an affecting listening experience that can be overwhelming at points, but its extremity never feels superfluous or disconnected from the sorrowful emotionality of the songs themselves.

Oromet on Instagram

Transylvanian Recordings on Bandcamp

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Le Mur, Keep Your Fear Away From Me

Each of the four tracks of Le Mur‘s fourth record, Keep Your Fear Away From Me, corresponds to a place in time and point of view. That is, we start in the past with 15-minute leadoff “…The Past Will Be Perfect…” — and please note that the band’s name is also stylized all-caps where album and song titles are all-lowercase — moving through “Today is the Day/The Beauty of Now” (9:27) in the present and “Another Life/Burning the Tree/I See You” (11:19) confirming the subjectivity of one’s experience of self and the world, and closer “…For the Puzzles of the Future.” (12:12) finishing the train of thought by looking at the present from a time to come. Samples peppered throughout add to the otherwise mostly instrumental proceedings, focused on flow and at least semi-improvised, and horns on the opener/longest cut (immediate points) sets a jazzy mindset that holds even as “Another Life/Burning the Tree/I See You” forays through its three-stage journey, starting with a shimmy before growing ever-so-slightly funky in the middle and finishing acoustic, while the (electric) guitar on “…For the Puzzles of the Future.” seems to have saved its letting loose for the final jam, emerging out of the keyboardy intro and sample to top a raucous, fun finish.

Le Mur on Facebook

Aumega Project website

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10-20 Project, Snakes Go Dark to Soak in the Sun

Pushing through sax-laced, dug-in space jamming, Tunisia’s 10-20 Project reportedly recorded Snakes Go Dark to Soak in the Sun during the pandemic lockdown, perhaps in a bid just to do anything during July 2020. Removed from that circumstance, the work of the core duo of guitarist Marwen Lazaar and bassist Dhia Eddine Mejrissi as well as a few friends — drummer Manef Zoghlemi, saxophonist Ghassen Abdelghani and Mohammed Barsaoui on didgeridoo — present a three-track suite that oozes between liquid and vaporous states of matter across “Chutney I” (25:06), “Chutney II” (14:32) and “Chutney III” (13:00), which may or may not have actually been carved out of the same extended jam. From the interweaving of the sax alongside the guitar in the mix of the opener through the hand-drumming in the middle cut and “Chutney III” picking up with an active rhythm after the two pieces prior took their time in building quietly, plus some odd vocalizations included for good measure, the 52-minute outing gets its character from the exploratory meld in their arrangements and the loose nature with which they seem to approach composition generally. It is not a challenge to be entranced by Snakes Go Dark to Soak in the Sun, as even 10-20 Project seem to have been during its making.

10-20 Project on Facebook

Echodelick Records store

Worst Bassist Records store

We Here & Now Recordings store

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Landing, Motionless I-VI

If one assumes that “Side A” (19:58) and “Side B” (20:01) of Landing‘s are the edited-down versions of what appeared as part of the Connecticut ambient psych troupe’s Bandcamp ‘Subscriber Series Collection 02’ as “Motionless I-III” (29:56) and “Motionless IV-VI” (27:18), then perhaps yes, the Sulatron Records-issued Motionless I-VI has been markedly altered to accommodate the LP format. The (relatively) concise presentation, however, does little to undercut either the floating cosmic acoustics and drones about halfway through the first side or the pastoral flight taken in “Side B” before the last drone seems to devour the concept with especially cinematic drama. Whereas when there are drums in “Side A” the mood is more krautrock or traditional space rock, the second stretch of Motionless I-VI is more radical in its changes while still being gentle in its corner turning from one to the next, as heard with the arrival of the electric guitar that fades in at around six and a half minutes and merrily chugs through the brightly-lit serenity of what might’ve at some point been “Motionless V” and here is soon engulfed in a gradual fade that brings forward the already-mentioned drone. There’s more going on under the surface than at it — and that dimension of mix is crucial to Landing‘s methodology — but Motionless I-VI urges the listener to appreciate each element in its place, and is best heard doing that.

Landing on Facebook

Sulatron Records store

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On occasion, throughout the last eight years or so that I’ve been doing this kind of Quarterly Review roundup thing, I’ve been asked how I do it. The answer is appallingly straightforward. I do it one record at a time, listening to as much music as possible and writing as much as I can. If you were curious, there you go.

If, more likely, you weren’t curious, now you know anyway. Shall we?

Quarterly Review #31-40:

Russian Circles, Gnosis

You wanna know how big a deal Russian Circles are? I didn’t even get a promo of this record. Granted, I’m nobody, but still. So anyway, here I am like a fucking sucker, about to tell you Gnosis is the heaviest and most intense thing Russian Circles — with whose catalog I’m just going to assume you’re familiar because they’re that big a deal and you’re pretty hip; bet you got a download to review, or at least an early stream — have ever done and it means literally nothing. Just makes me feel stupid and lame. I really want to like this album. That chug in “Conduit?” Fuck yeah. That wash in “Betrayal?” Even that little minimalist stretch of “Ó Braonáin.” The way “Tupilak” rumbles to life at the outset. That’s my shit right there. Chug chug crush crush, pretty part. So anyway, instead of sweating it forever, I’ll probably shut Gnosis off when I’m done here and never listen to it again. Thanks. Who gives a shit? Exactly. Means nothing to anyone. Tell me why I do this? Why even give it the space? Because they’re that big a deal and I’m the nerdy fat kid forever. Total fucking stooge. Fuck it and fuck you too.

Russian Circles on Facebook

Sargent House store

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Church of the Cosmic Skull, There is No Time

Are not all gods mere substitutes for the power of human voices united in song? And why not tonight for finding the grace within us? As Brother Bill, Sister Caroline and their all-colours Septaphonic congregation of siblings tell us, we’re only one step away. I know you’ve been dragged down, wrung out, you’ve seen the valleys and hills, but now’s the time. Church of the Cosmic Skull come forward again with the message of galactic inner peace and confronting the unreality of reality through choral harmonies and progressive heavy rock and roll, and even the Cosmic Mother herself must give ear. Come, let us bask in the light of pure illumination and revolutionary suicide. Let us find what we lost somewhere. All gods die, but you and I can live forever and spread ourselves across the universe like so much dust from the Big Bang. We’ll feel the texture of the paper. We’ll be part of the team. Oh, fellow goers into the great Far Out, there’s reverence being sung from the hills with such spirit behind it. Can you hear? Will you? There’s nothing to fear here, nothing sinister. Nothing to be lost except that which has held you back all along. Let it all move, and go. Open your eyes to feel all seven rays, and stand peeled like an onion, naked, before the truth being told. Do this. Today.

Church of the Cosmic Skull on Facebook

Church of the Cosmic Skull store

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Pretty Lightning, Dust Moves

Saarbrücken duo Pretty Lightning follow 2020’s stellar Jangle Bowls (review here) with a collection of 14 instrumental passages that, for all their willful meandering, never find themselves lost. Heady, Dead Meadowy vibes persist on ramblers like “Sediment Swing” and “Splinter Bowl,” but through spacious drone and the set-the-mood-for-whatever “Glide Gently (Into the Chasm),” which is both opener and the longest track (immediate points) at just over five minutes, the clear focus is on ambience. I wouldn’t be the first to liken some of Dust Moves to Morricone, and sure, “Powdermill” has some of that Dollars-style reverb and “The Secret is Locked Inside” lays out a subtle nighttime threat in its rattlesnake shaker, but these ideas are bent and shaped to Pretty Lightning‘s overarching purpose, and even with 14 songs, the fact that the album only runs 43 minutes should tell you that even as they seem to head right into the great unknown wilderness of intent, they never dwell in any single position for too long, and are in no danger of overstaying their welcome. Extra kudos for the weirdness of “Crystal Waltz” tucked right into the middle of the album next to “The Slow Grinder.” Sometimes experiments work.

Pretty Lightning on Facebook

Fuzz Club Records store

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Wizzerd, Space‽: Issue No. 001

Combining burly modern heavy riffage, progressive flourish and a liberal dose of chicanery, Montana’s Wizzerd end up in the realm of Howling Giant and a more structurally-straightforward Elder without sounding directly like either of them. Their Fuzzorama Records label debut, the quizzically punctuated Space‽: Issue No. 001 echoes its title’s obvious nods to comic book culture with a rush of energy in songs like “Super Nova” and “Attack of the Gargantuan Moon Spiders,” the swinging “Don’t Zorp ‘n’ Warp” space-progging out in its second half as though to emphasize the sheer delight on the part of the band doing something unexpected. So much the better if they’re having fun too. The back half of the outing after the duly careening “Space Chase” is blocked off by the noisy “Transmission” and the bleep-bloop “End Transmission” — which, if we’re being honest is a little long at just under five minutes — but finds the band establishing a firm presence of purpose in “Doom Machine Smoke Break” and the building “Diosa del Sol” ahead of the record’s true finishing moment, “Final Departure Part 1: The Intergalactic Keep of the Illustrious Cosmic Woman,” which is both an adventure in outer space and a melodic highlight. This one’s a party and you’re invited.

Wizzerd on Facebook

Fuzzorama Records store

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Desert 9, Explora II

Desert 9 is one of several projects founded by synthesist Peter Bell through a collective/studio called Mutaform in the Brindisi region of Southern Italy (heel of the boot), and the seven-song/63-minute Explora II follows quickly behind June’s Explora I and works on a similar theme of songs named for different deserts around the world, be it “Dasht-e Margo,” “Mojave,” “Gobi” or “Arctic.” What unfolds in these pieces is mostly long-ish-form instrumental krautrock and psychedelic exploration — “Arctic” is an exception at a somewhat ironically scorching three and a half minutes; opener “Namib” is shorter, and jazzier, as well — likewise immersive and far-outbound, with Bell‘s own synth accompanied on its journeys by guitar, bass and drums, the former two with effects to spare. I won’t take away from the sunburn of “Sonoran” at the finish, but the clazzic-cool swing of “Chihuahuan” is a welcome respite from some of the more thrust-minded fare, at least until the next solo starts and eats the second half of the release. The mix is raw, but I think that’s part of the idea here, and however much of Explora II was improvised and/or recorded live, it sounds like the four-piece just rolled up, hit record and went for it. Not revolutionary in aesthetic terms, but inarguable in vitality.

Mutaform on Facebook

Mutaform on Bandcamp

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Gagulta, Gagulta

Originally pressed to tape in 2019 through Fuzz Ink and brought to vinyl through Sound Effect Records, Greek sludgers Gagulta begin their self-titled debut with an evocation of the Old Ones before unfurling the 13-minute assault of “Dead Fiend/Devil’s Lettuce,” the second part of which is even slower than the first. Nods and screams, screams and nods, riffs and kicks and scratches. “Late Beer Cult” is no less brash or disaffected, the Galatsi-based trio of ‘vokillist’ Johny Oldboy, baritone bassist Xen and drummer Jason — no need for last names; we’re all friends here — likewise scathing and covered in crust. Side B wraps with the 10-minute eponymous “Gagulta” — circle pit into slowdown into even noisier fuckall — but not before “Long Live the Undead” has dirty-steamrolled through its four minutes and the penultimate “War” blasts off from its snare count-in on a punk-roots-revealing surge that plays back and forth with tortured, scream-topped slow-riff madness. I don’t know if the Old Ones would be pleased, but if at any point you see a Gagulta backpatch out in the wild, that person isn’t fucking around and neither is this band. Two years after its first release, it remains monstrous.

Gagulta on Facebook

Sound Effect Records store

Fuzz Ink Records store

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Obiat, Indian Ocean

Some 20 years removed from their debut album, Accidentally Making Enemies, and 13 past their most recent, 2009’s Eye Tree Pi (review here), London’s Obiat return at the behest of guitarist/keyboardist Raf Reutt and drummer Neil Dawson with the duly massive Indian Ocean, an eight-song collection spanning an hour’s listening time that brings together metallic chug and heavy post-rock atmospherics, largesse of tone and melody central to the proceedings from opener “Ulysses” onward. Like its long-ago predecessor, Alex Nervo‘s bass (he also adds keys and guitar) is a major presence, and in addition to vocalist Sean Cooper, who shines emotively and in the force of his delivery throughout, there are an assortment of guests on “Eyes and Soul,” “Nothing Above,” “Sea Burial” and subdued closer “Lightness of Existence,” adding horns, vocals, flute, and so on to the wash of volume from the guitar, bass, drums, keys, and though parts were recorded in Wales, England, Australia, Sweden, Norway and Hungary, Indian Ocean is a cohesive, consuming totality of a record that does justice to the long wait for its arrival while also earning as much volume as you can give it through its immersive atmospherics and sheer aural heft that leads to the ambient finish. It is not a minor undertaking, but it walks the line between metal and post-metal and has a current of heavy rock beneath it in a way that is very much Obiat‘s, and if they’re really back to being a band again — that is, if it’s not another 13 years before their next record — watch out.

Obiat on Facebook

Obiat on Bandcamp

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Maunra, Monarch

Vienna five-piece Maunra enter the fray of the harsher side of post-metal with Monarch, their self-released-for-now debut full-length. With throaty growling vocals at the forefront atop subtly nuanced double-guitars and bouts of all-out chugga-breakdown riffing like that in “Wuthering Seas,” they’re managing to dare to bring a bit of life and energy to the generally hyper-cerebral style, and that rule-breaking continues to suit them in the careening “Embers” and the lumbering stomp-mosh of the title-track such that even when the penultimate “Lightbreather” shifts into its whispery/wispy midsection — toms still thudding behind — there’s never any doubt of their bringing the shove back around. I haven’t seen a lyric sheet, so can’t say definitively whether or not opener “Between the Realms” is autobiographical in terms of the band describing their own aesthetic, but their blend of progressivism and raw impact is striking in that song and onward, and it’s interesting to hear an early ’00s metal influence creep into the interplay of lead and rhythm guitar on that opener and elsewhere. At seven tracks/41 minutes, Monarch proffers tonal weight and rhythmic force, hints toward more melodic development to come, and underscores its focus on movement by capping with the especially rousing “Windborne.” Reportedly the album was five years in the making. Time not wasted.

Maunra on Facebook

Maunra on Bandcamp

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Brujas del Sol, Deculter

Still mostly instrumental, formerly just-Ohio-based progressive heavy rockers Brujas del Sol answer the steps they took in a vocalized direction on 2019’s II (review here) with the voice-as-part-of-the-atmosphere verses of “To Die on Planet Earth” and “Myrrors” on their third album, Deculter, but more importantly to the actual listening experience of the record is the fact that they’ve never sounded quite this heavy. Sure, guitarist Adrian Zambrano (also vocals) and bassist Derrick White still provide plenty of synth to fill out those instrumentalist spaces and up the general proggitude, and that’s a signal sent clearly with the outset “Intro,” but Joshua Oswald (drums/vocals) pounds his snare as “To Live and Die on Planet Earth” moves toward its midsection, and the aggression wrought there is answered in both the guitar and bass tones as 12-minute finishing move “Arcadia” stretches into its crescendo, more about impact than the rush of “Divided Divinity” earlier on, rawer emotionally than the keyboardier reaches of “Lenticular,” but no less thoughtful in its construction. Each piece (even that intro) has an identity of its own, and each one makes Deculter a stronger offering.

Brujas del Sol on Facebook

Kozmik Artifactz website

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Sergeant Thunderhoof, This Sceptred Veil

A definite 2LP at nine songs and 68 minutes, Sergeant Thunderhoof‘s fifth full-length, This Sceptred Veil, is indeed two albums’ worth of album, and the songs bear that out in their complexity and sense of purpose as well. Not to harp, but even the concluding two-parter “Avon/Avalon” is a lot to take in after what’s come before it, but what Bath, UK, troupe vary their songwriting and bring a genuine sense of presence to the material that even goes beyond the soaring vocals to the depth of the mix more generally. There’s heavy rock grit to “Devil’s Daughter” (lil eyeroll there) and progressive reach to the subsequent “Foreigner,” a lushness to “King Beyond the Gates” and twisting riffs that should earn pleased nods from anyone who’s been swept up in Green Lung‘s hooky pageantry, and opener “You’ve Stolen the Words” sets an expectation for atmosphere and a standard for directness of craft — as well as stellar production — that This Sceptred Veil seems only too happy to meet. A given listener’s reaction to the ’80s metal goofery of “Show Don’t Tell” will depend on said listener’s general tolerance for fun, but don’t let me spoil that for them or you. Yeah, it’s a substantial undertaking. Five records in, Sergeant Thunderhoof knew that when they made it, and if you’ve got the time, they’ve got the tunes. Album rocks front to back.

Sergeant Thunderhoof on Facebook

Pale Wizard Records store

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German three-piece Mills of God released their first and only full-length, Call of the Eastern Moon, in 2008. I still have the CD, and they were how I learned the Longfellow poem — “Though the mills of God grind slowly,/Yet they grind exceeding small;/Though with patience he stands waiting,/With exactness grinds he all.” — that I quoted when I reviewed the album less than two months after starting this site.

Let us not mince words. I was all about this record. All about it. Comprised of two 21-minute, vinyl-side-consuming (not that that mattered as much in the late aughts, but it was starting to) extended pieces in the opening title-track (21:22) and “Monolith” (21:49), which follows. I don’t actually know if the album ever received a vinyl release, but it certainly deserved one. The Saarbrücken-based trio of guitarist Moritz Czarny, bassist/guitarist Kai Peifer and drummer Christoph Salzmann — who recorded this but was soon replaced by Patrick Alt — were taking the lumbering sensibilities of Earth and Sleep and blasting them into a raw vision of space that I thought was right up there in formative cosmic doom with what YOB and Ufomammut were doing. Not to harp on that comparison, but I can hear a little bit of what YOB would do a few years later on Atma in “Call of the Eastern Moon.” Maybe Mills of God were a few years ahead of their time.

Bob Weston from Shellac mastered it, Tom Denney did the cover art, and even now when I listen to the combination of spaciousness and crush, all I hear is potential in what Mills of God were doing the better part of a decade and a half ago. The CD version also included the earlier track “The Seed” and so was about an hour long and wholly immersive. You put it on and got lost in it. Or I did, anyhow. A lot. This was one of those records that I went back to plenty of times and still obviously think about every now and then.

The lesson I learned from it though is that sometimes things don’t happen the way you think they will or should. To wit, I thought Mills of God were going to be huge — looking back on that, they’re a band with 20-minute-long instrumental tracks, so maybe “huge” is relative anyway — and I heard in their music a genuinely interesting take on what had been done before and what was happening around them. On their first long-player, they’d succeeded in finding a niche and capturing the listener across a span of time that cast its atmosphere in tones that were encompassing without losing their natural sound — the rumble of bass beneath the pulled lead guitar of “Call of the Eastern Moon” is nothing if not organic in its push of air — and all I could think of was their potential. Man, when people heard this, they were going to lose their minds. How could they not?

Here’s a good one. When I interviewed Peifer in April 2009, I actually said in the intro, “…it’s abundantly clear that this trip is just beginning.”

You see where this is going. The band never did anything else.

In hindsight, I’m all the more glad they put “The Seed” on the CD for archival purposes, because it means Call of the Eastern Moon is essentially a discography release for Mills of God. Whatever abundance of clarity I might’ve perceived was dead wrong. The lesson I learned from Mills of God and Call of the Eastern Moon is that sometimes, for whatever reason, it just doesn’t happen the way you think it will or should. And I’ve seen it tons of times since, with bands who I think are awesome who don’t catch on with an audience the way they do with me, or others that do and leave me cold, or who do something great and then either have the rug pulled out from under them or do the pulling themselves.

There are any number of reasons a band might put out just one album and call it quits — I should know — but the work Mills of God did on Call of the Eastern Moon still holds up. If it hit my inbox today, I probably wouldn’t hail it as revolutionary these years later, but that certainly wouldn’t be any fault of the band’s own. In its tone, plod and atmospheric reach, they had a lot to offer a listener, and I think maybe even more in “Monolith” than the title-track, as the second cut unfolded with such a patient twist, holding back its guitar solo for the first few minutes while setting up the central march that would make Dopethrone-era Electric Wizard proud.

Another lost classic of pre-mobile social media? Maybe. They still have a MySpace page sort of up — their label, Modus Operandi Records, is in their top eight — and they’re on Facebook, though there’s been no activity there for nearly a decade since, presumably, they put Call of the Eastern Moon on Bandcamp.

In the aforementioned interview with Peifer, he said they had new stuff in the works — with vocals — for as early as 2010, but that, “There is no specific plan for the band. We want to play as much shows as possible, to do as much recording as possible and to have as much fun as possible! Though we get a lot of positive feedback for our recent record from all over the world, it’s still difficult for us to find opportunities for performing live. But well… what can I say… since there are no plans for becoming famous anyway we don’t care too much about that, ha ha!”

Whether or not the band ever actually hit the studio for a follow-up to Call of the Eastern Moon, I don’t know. And that’s another lesson from Mills of God. Say the things you don’t know. I try and do it all the time. Question assumptions, check facts, and so on, but I still make mistakes every day. Sometimes all day. It’s hard to hiccup before you say something you think you know and go, “wait, do I really know this?” but worth the effort to get it right. I wish Mills of God had done more, and who knows, maybe someday they will, but it’s ‘abundantly clear’ that, to this point, it wasn’t to be.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

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Someone said a nice thing about me on the internet yesterday. Actually, it wasn’t someone, and it wasn’t just one person. Todd Severin of Ripple Music put up a post of very kind words about me and particularly about this site and that launched something of a love-fest for The Obelisk that, since I’m emotionally unable to separate myself from it, had me blushing all day. I think I can embed it? Here it is if you’re interested.

I guess you have to click it to read? Whatever. It was awfully sweet, and it came at a moment when it was just about appreciated as much as it could be. I’m not sure how much I’m allowed to say about why, but I got news yesterday and it looks like I’m not going to be able to go to Roadburn this year, and since by all current status lights it seems to be a go for the festival to happen, it will be the first one I’m missing since 2009. That’s a hard bummer to swallow and yesterday sucked accordingly. I knew it was coming. But still.

My son said the other day he wished he didn’t have a father. I died a little. Tried not to react on the surface but he could obviously tell he bummed me out because I’ve zero poker face ever and he’s since followed up with “I don’t like you” and “I don’t love you” on regular rotation. I haven’t gotten “I hate you” yet, but he’s been throwing around “hating” various things — school, wearing shirts, etc. — and I’m just kind of waiting for it. There is no doubt in my mind we’ll get there. Just as there was never a doubt in my mind I’d hear these things. I guess perhaps I just didn’t think it would come when he was four years old.

Parents of teenagers be like, “Oh you think it’s bad now, just wait.” Fine.

He doesn’t like that I can pick him up and put him where he needs to be. I try not to do it, but sometimes it’s time to go and he’s still ADHD dicking around and the extra time you’ve accommodated is gone and you need to do the thing. He bites, he kicks. Yesterday, I spent eight earth minutes trying to wrestle him into a diaper while he kept kicking and pulling his feet out. Meanwhile, he refuses to have anything to do with a toilet and insists on diapers, which, fine. But let me put them on. I finally threw the pack of diapers in the next room, closed the door, locked it and told him I was never going to put another diaper on him. He lost his fucking mind. He’s terrified of the potty. We read a couple books and I asked him if he wanted to try again when he was calm but told him that if he fought me again on it like that that we were done with diapers. Which we should be anyway.

When he tells me “I don’t like you,” I tell him “That’s too bad. I like you a lot.” It’s true most of the time. One time I said, “That’s alright, kid. I didn’t like my dad either.”

I hope he invites me to his wedding.

Mixed bag of a week, then. He had Monday off from school because of MLK and yesterday was a delayed opening for weather. I thank my mother for babysitting and The Patient Mrs. for taking him yesterday so I could work on Quarterly Review stuff. I don’t deserve the people in my life. The Pecan included.

We went for a run around the block this morning. Him, me and The Patient Mrs. The school swapped his bus schedule (comes later now, because fucking of course), so we had time. It’d be nice to build that habit. I’m too crazy for that shit though. Thinking about exercise, my body, all that stuff. I need to write that book about being a dude with an eating disorder. It’s like the only relevant thing I’ve ever had to say about anything and I’m not saying it. Feels like a missed opportunity.

Hours in the day. Cells in the brain.

Gonna punch out. I have another post to put together and if I can, I’d like to shower. So, great and safe weekend. Have fun, hydrate, all that stuff. New Gimme show today at 5PM Eastern. You won’t listen, I’m pretty sure nobody does, but I still feel like I need to plug it just in case.

Thanks for reading.

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German heavy psychedelic rockers Yagow release their second album, The Mess, June 18 on Crazysane Records. The trio issued their self-titled debut (review here) in 2017 and thereby served effective notice of their weirdo intentions, the record’s molten freakery laid back but still out-there in the cosmic sense. The kids — all of whom are over 30 — might call it neo-psych, but the wretched truth is there’s no such thing. It’s all just psych. Heavy psych, in this case. And Yagow deliver seven thrillers in that regard across their sophomore foray, blown out and rolling every which way as it is while still remaining cohesive in its approach — they didn’t call it The Mess because their songs are any sloppier than they want them to be — pushing speedier feedback-and-organ-laced vibes in “Tres Calaveras,” while the earlier opening title-track pairs sitar sounds and fuzz guitar in classic fashion, pushing toward space rock without breaking the motorik light barrier, and the subsequent “Doomed to Fail” reverbs in such a manner as to evoke the US Pacific Coast. If they were from Palm Springs and not Saarbrücken, you’d call it desert rock and be just as right.

That latter, second cut, comes tailed by the immediate low-end tension of “Rise and Shine,” for which Yagow are premiering a video below — how about that? You can hear some holdover tonal spaciousness in there for sure, and “Rise and Shine” pairs that with nod-ready tom work and a deceptively solidified verse setting up a shift into a hook peppered with ’60s organ shimmer before being shoved to a rousing finish. That moves into “Bloom,” with a purposefully emptier-feeling verse and looser swing — too humble to swagger, but too dead-on in the bass distortion to be called humble — and a build into a crescendo worthy of its place as The Mess‘ centerpiece. The aforementioned “Tres Calaveras,” presumably a leadoff for side B, answers with more straightforward galloping motion early and a bit of drift in its second half, almost tricking the listener into its immersion, but doing so with no malice in its intent. Kudos to guitarist/vocalist/noisemaker Jan Werner, bassist Kai Peifer and drummer Marc Schönwald on acknowledging their place in the universe on “Eclectic Electric,” the most outwardly engaging chorus on the record. It’s good to know, ultimately, that they realize that they’re weirdos too. Makes the whole thing easier, and, honestly, more fun to process.

Speaking of processing, the nine-minute closer and longest track on The Mess, “Getting Through: Is This Where the Magic Happens?” should be answered with a resounding yes. It should come as little surprise that the longer finale is jammier, fluid and open-feeling, but to their credit, Yagow don’t simply throw wide the door and let the track make its winding way into psychedelic oblivion. They hold onto it. They keep a cool head. They maintain. Sure they’re on an outbound passage into the echo-drenched ether with only their own tonality to keep them warm — should do the trick nicely — but that doesn’t mean one needs to completely forsake every semblance of structure. Yagow never give all the way into making a mess on The Mess. One wouldn’t call the album tidy, exactly, but the flow between and within tracks demonstrates the underlying focus of their execution, even when that focus is on blurring reality. Which, really, could use some blurring at this point.

And on that happy note, I’ll turn you over to the portrayal of base consumerism and ’90s home shopping that is the clip for “Rise and Shine,” inspired as it is. A quote from the band and album info/preorder links follow, all courtesy of the PR wire.

Enjoy:

Yagow, “Rise & Shine” official video premiere

Yagow on “Rise & Shine”:

The song is about the conscious or unconscious assumption of certain roles within our capitalist society that are expected from us and about how we have been socialised to adopt them and to perfect that facade. When Pascal and Tobi from Keine Zeit Medien came up with the idea to recreate a teleshopping program in the style of the ’90s for the first video single and to have every band member present a trashy product, we knew that this would go perfectly with the message of “Rise & Shine!” With the support of some friends who, in contrast to our amateur acting, turned out to be near-professional actors, the shoot was a lot of fun. And when Pascal, in his role as our hair model, said that he would be willing to do everything for the sake of art (“Mach mir einfach die Halbglatze!”), it was clear that the video was going to be killer! See for yourself!

The otherworldly sounds of psychedelic space-rock outfit Yagow take a new turn on their sophomore album The Mess. Combining the resonant riffing of The Black Angels and True Widow with the celebrant atmosphere of Dead Skeletons The Mess presents an eclectic mix of noise rock, psychedelic rock and stoner rock influences that continues in the vein of their self-titled debut album (released in 2017). However this time Yagow paint with a deeper warmer sonic palette that makes their intend more effective than before.

THE MESS (limited 12″, 180g heavyweight vinyl) will be released June 16th 2021 through crazysane records.

Pre-order the album here: http://crazysanerecords.com/

— Peacock Edition: white/orange/purple splatter (Ltd. to 150)
— Grimace Purple Edition (Ltd. to 150)
— Solid Black (Ltd. to 200)

THE MESS was recorded by Bob de Wit and Koen Verhees at Super Nova Studio, Eindhoven in October 2020. It was mixed by Dennis Juengel and mastered by Philipp Welsing. THE MESS is released through crazysane records.

Yagow are:
Marc Schönwald (Drums, Percussion)
Kai Peifer (Bass)
Jan Werner (Vocals, Guitars, Drones)

All Songs written by Yagow

Guest Musician:
Bram van Zuijlen (Synthesizer, Organ, Saloon Piano)

Yagow on Thee Facebooks

Yagow on Instagram

Yagow on Bandcamp

Yagow website

Yagow preorder at Crazysane Records

Crazysane Records on Thee Facebooks

Alarm went off this morning at 3:45. Got up, flicked on the coffee pot, turned the heat on in the house, hit the bathroom and was back in bed in four minutes with an alarm set for 4:15. Didn’t really get back to sleep, but the half-hour of being still was a kind of pre-waking meditation that I appreciated just the same. Was dozing when the alarm went off the second time, but it’s day two of the Quarterly Review, so no time to doze. No time for anything, as is the nature of these blocks of writeups. They tend to be all-consuming while they’re going on. Could be worse. Let’s roll.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Khemmis, Doomed Heavy Metal

Denver four-piece Khemmis have made themselves one of the most distinctive acts in metal, to say nothing of doom. With strong vocal harmonies out front backed by similarly-minded guitars, the band bring a sense of poise to doom that’s rare in the modern sphere, somewhat European in influence, but less outwardly adherent to the genre tenets of melancholy. They refuse to be Paradise Lost, in other words, and are all the more themselves for that. Their Doomed Heavy Metal EP (on 20 Buck Spin and Nuclear Blast) is a stopgap after 2018’s Desolation (review here) full-length, but at 38 minutes and six songs, it’s substantial nonetheless, headlined by the Dio cover “Rainbow in the Dark” — capably done with just a flair of Slough Feg — with a take on Lloyd Chandler‘s “A Conversation with Death” and “Empty Throne,” both rare-enough studio cuts, for backing, as well as three live cuts that cover their three-to-date albums. The growls on “Three Gates” are fun, but I’ll still take the Dio cover as the highlight. For a cobbled-together release, it feels at least like a bit of thoughtful fan-service, and really, a band could do worse than to serve their fans thoughtfully.

Khemmis on Facebook

20 Buck Spin store

Nuclear Blast Records store

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Mutant Flesh, Evil Eye

There are shades of doom metal’s origins underlying Mutant Flesh‘s first release, the eight-song/33-minute Evil Eye, but the Philly troupe are too gleeful in their weirdness ultimately to be paying full homage to the likes of Witchfinder General, and especially in a faster song like second cut “Meteoric” and the subsequent lead-guitar-flipout-and-vocal-soar title-track, they tap into the defiantly doomed vibe of earliest Saint Vitus. That’s true of the crawling “Euthanasia” as well, which crashes and nods as it approaches the six-minute mark as the longest inclusion here, but even the penultimate “Blight” brings that twisted-Black–Flag-noise-slowed-down spirit that lets you know there’s consciousness behind the chaos, and that while Mutant Flesh might seem to be all-the-way-gone, they’re really just getting started. Maybe their sound will even out over time, maybe it won’t, but for what it’s worth, they do ragged doom well from the opening “Leviathan (Lord of the Labyrinth)” onward, and feel right at home in the unhinged.

Mutant Flesh on Facebook

Mutant Flesh on Bandcamp

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War Cloud, Earhammer Sessions

Having just shredded their way across Europe, War Cloud took their set into the Earhammer Studio with Greg Wilkinson at the helm in an attempt to capture the band in top form on their home turf. Did it work? The results on Earhammer Sessions (Ripple Music) don’t wait around for you to decide. They’re too busy kicking ass to take names, and if the resulting 29-minute burst is even half of what they brought to the stage on that tour, those must’ve been some goddamn shows. Songs like “White Lightning” and the snare-counted-in “Speed Demon” and “Striker” feel like they’re being given their due in the max-speed-NWOBHM-but-still-too-classy-to-be-thrash presentation, and honestly, this feels like War Cloud have found their method. If they don’t tour their next album and then hit the studio after and lay it down live, or at least as live as Earhammer Sessions is — one never knows as regards overdubs and isolation booths and all that — they’re doing themselves a disservice. War Cloud play metal. So what? So this.

War Cloud on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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Void of Sleep, Metaphora

Void of Sleep return after half a decade with the prog-doom stylings of their third album, Metaphora (Aural Music), which stretches dramatically through songs like “Iron Mouth” (11:00), preceded by the intro “The Famine Years” and the shorter “Unfair Judgements,” preceded by the intro “Waves of Discomfort,” and still somehow manage not to sound out of place tapping into their inner Soilwork in the growled verses/clean choruses of “Master Abuser.” They get harsh a bit as well on “Tides of the Mourning,” which uses its 10:30 to summarize the bulk of the proceedings and close out the record after “Modern Man,” but that song has more of a scope and feels looser structurally for that. Still, that shift is only one of several throughout Metaphora, which follows the Italian five-piece’s 2015 LP, New World Order (discussed here), and wherever Void of Sleep are headed at any given moment, they head there with a duly controlled presence. Clearly their last five years have not been wasted.

Void of Sleep on Facebook

Aural Music store

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Pretty Lightning, Jangle Bowls

As yet, Germany’s Pretty Lightning remain a well kept secret of fuzz-psych-blues nuance, digging out their own niche-in-a-niche-in-a-niche microgenre with a natural and inadvertent-feeling sense of just writing the songs they want to write. Jangle Bowls, which puts its catchy, semi-garage title-track early in the proceedings, is the duo’s second offering through Fuzz Club Records behind 2017’s The Rhythm of Ooze (review here), and seem to present a mission statement in opener “Swamp Ritual” before bringing a due sense of excursion to “Boogie at the Shrine” — damn that’s a smooth groove — and reviving the movement in “RaRaRa,” which follows. Closer “Shovel Blues” is a highlight for how it drifts into oblivion, but the underlying tightness of craft in “123 Eternity” and “Hum” is an appeal as well, so it’s a tradeoff. But it’s one I’ll be glad to make across multiple repeat visits to Jangle Bowls while wondering how long this particular secret can actually be kept.

Pretty Lightning on Facebook

Fuzz Club Records store

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Rosy Finch, Scarlet

The painted-blood-red cover of Rosy Finch‘s second album, Scarlet (on Lay Bare Recordings), and horror-cinema-esque design isn’t a coincidence in terms of atmosphere, but the Spanish trio bring a more aggressive feel to the nine-track outing overall than they did to their 2016 debut, Witchboro (review here), with additional crunch in the guitar of Mireia Porto (also vocals and bass) and bassist Elena Garcia, and a forward kick drum from Lluís Mas that hammers home the impact of a pressure-on-head squeezer like “Ruby” and even seems to ground the more melodic “Alizarina,” which follows, let alone the crushing opener/longest track (immediate points) “Oxblood” or its headspinning closing companion “Dark Cherry,” after which follows the particularly intense hidden cut “Lady Bug,” also not to be missed. Anger suits Rosy Finch, it seems, and the band bring a physicality to the songs on Scarlet that only reinforces the sonic push.

Rosy Finch on Facebook

Lay Bare Recordings store

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Ghost Spawn, The Haunting Continuum

Brutal, gurgling doom-of-death pervades The Haunting Continuum from Denver one-man-unit Ghost Spawn, and while the guitar late in “Escaping the Mortal Flesh” seems momentarily to offer some hope of salvation, rest assured, it doesn’t last, and the squibbly central riff returns with its extremity to prove once more that only death is real. Multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Kevin Berstler is the lone culprit behind the project’s first full-length and second release overall (also second this year, so he would seem to work quickly), and across 43 minutes that only grow more grueling as they proceed through the centerpiece title-track and into “The Terrors that Plague Nightly” and the desolate incantations of “Exiled to the Realm of Eternal Rot,” there are some hints of cleaner grunts that have made their way through — a kind of repeated “hup” vocalization — but this too is swallowed in the miasma of cave-echo guitar, drums-from-out-of-the-abyss, and raw-as-peeled-flesh production. Can’t get behind that? Probably you and 99.9 percent of the rest of humanity. For us slugs, though, it’s just about right.

Ghost Spawn on Facebook

Ghost Spawn on Bandcamp

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Agrabatti, Beyond the Sun

It’s kosmiche thrust and watery vibes when Agrabatti go Beyond the Sun. What’s there upon arrival? Nothing less than a boogie down with Hawkwind at the helm of a spacey spaced-out space rocking chopper that you shouldn’t even be able to hear the revving engine of in space and yet somehow you can. Also synth, pulsating riffs and psych-as-all-golly-gosh awakenings. Formed in 2009 by Chad Davis — then just out of U.S. Christmas, already at that point known for his work in Hour of 13 and a swath of other projects across multiple genres — and with songs begun to come together at that time only to be shelved ahead of recording this year, Beyond the Sun sat seemingly in some unreachable strata of anomalous subspace, for 11 years before being rediscovered from its time-loop like Kelsey Grammer in that one episode of TNG, and gorgeously spread across the quadrant in its five-cut run, with its cover of the aforementioned Hawkwind‘s “Born to Go” so much at home among its companions it feels like, baby, it’s already gone. Do you need sunglasses in the void? Shit yeah you do.

Agrabatti on Facebook

Agrabatti on Bandcamp

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Dead Sacraments, Celestial Throne

Four sprawling doom epics comprise the 2019 debut album — and apparently debut release — from Illinois four-piece Dead Sacraments, who themselves are comprised from three former members of atmospheric sludgers Angel Eyes, who finished their run in 2011 but released the posthumous Things Have Learnt to Walk That Ought to Crawl (review here). Those are guitarist Brendan Burchell, bassist Nader Cheboub and drummer Ryan Croson, and together with apparently-self-harmonizing vocalist/guitarist Mark Mazurek, they cast a doom built on largesse in tone and scope alike, given an air of classic-metal grandiosity but filtered through a psych-doom modernity that feels aware of what the likes of Pallbearer and Khemmis have done for the genre. Nonetheless, as a first record, Celestial Throne shines its darkness brightly across its no-song-under-nine-minutes-long lumber, and affirms the righteousness of doom with a genuine sense of reach at its disposal.

Dead Sacraments on Facebook

Dead Sacraments on Bandcamp

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Smokemaster, Smokemaster

The languid and trippy spirit in opener “Solar Flares” is something of a misdirect on the part of organ-laced, Cologne-based heavy rockers Smokemaster, who go on to boogie down through songs like “Trippin’ Blues” before jamming out classic heavy blues-style on “Ear of the Universe.” I’m not saying they don’t have their psychedelic aspects, but there’s plenty of movement behind what they do as well, and the setup they give with the first two cuts is effective in throwing off the first-time listener’s expectation. A pastoral instrumental “Sunrise in the Canyon” leads off side B after, and comes backed by “Astronaut of Love” (yup, a lovestronaut) and “Astral Traveller,” which find an engaging midpoint between the ground and the great beyond, synth and keys pushing outward in the finale even as the bass and drums keep it tethered to a central groove. It’s a formula that’s worked many times over the last half-century, but it works here too, and Smokemaster‘s Smokemaster makes a right-on introduction to the German newcomers.

Smokemaster on Facebook

Tonzonen Records store

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Much to its credit, The Rhythm of Ooze inhabits the fluidity its title implies. Does it even need to be said that the rhythm of ooze is about something that flows? Something malleable to suit a given purpose? Something that can be changed in its direction and manipulated? Think about pouring viscous liquid into a vertical maze and watching it crawl its way toward the end. The 10 tracks of the third full-length from Saarbrücken, Germany, two-piece Pretty Lightning — issued by Fuzz Club Records — works not all that differently. A decade after first getting together, the self-recording/self-mixing duo of Christian Berghoff and Sebastian Haas embody a psychedelic and loosely progressive take on heavy blues rock, chic like Black Keys and geared at times toward a similar-feeling idea that they might at some point make skinny white people dance — “This Machine is Running” might do the trick if anything ever could — but more expansive ultimately than most indie-minded rock is willing to let itself be, stretching into a lysergic hypnosis of effects and an immersive swirl that, indeed, carries the audience smoothly from the top of that maze to the bottom.

As they follow-up 2015’s A Magic Lane of Light and Rain (on Cardinal Fuzz and Sound Effect Records) and their 2012 debut, There are Witches in the Woods (on Fonal Records), their sense of command is strong, but that does nothing to undercut the playfulness of arrangements like that of “Rainbow Fantasies,” with its interwoven layers of effects-soaked guitar and jingling bells, or the inclusion of organ on opener “Thunder Mountain Return” that complements the bounce of that 7:42 track that bookends with 7:57 closer “Born to Snooze” as being nearly twice as long than the bulk of what occurs between. To go with versatility in terms of the elements at play, Pretty Lightning offer a ready juxtaposition of tempos, showing early stomp as the quicker “Willow Valley Blues” picks up from the dreamy beginning “Thunder Mountain Return” uses to ease the listener into the record and sets itself to establishing the subtle momentum that pushes through one song and into the next among the eight shorter, three-to-four-minute pieces sandwiched by the start and finish.

Also much to The Rhythm of Ooze‘s credit, it does not lose its underlying sense of cohesion while engaging this fluidity. There’s no secret to accomplishing that — it’s the songwriting. Haas and Berghoff don’t necessarily lean overly hard on the making of hooks, but even the backwards loops and soloing near the end of “Tangerine Steam” — which lead, suitably enough, into the more percussively-forward “Loops” — provide a memorable impression, and when they do want to elicit a chorus, they’re certainly more than able to do so, as songs like “Willow Valley Blues,” “Loops,” the swaying title-track, “This Machine is Running” and the penultimate “Moles” demonstrate. This notion of craft meets and lives comfortably alongside the shifts in approach on display across the 45-minute span of the album, as well as the psych-blues aesthetic that at times listening can make one feel like they’re in a beer commercial. But good beer. Not some shitty macro.

Pretty Lightning, in other words, offer style and substance with their oozy rhythm, and the dynamic turns Haas and Berghoff hone throughout are not to be understated. To wit, “Thunder Mountain Return” seems in its first minute to set up a hypnotic loop of plucked and echoing banjo, hypnotizing the listener as a subtle wash of effects builds up behind, and it ends with that same progression — mirroring the bookending nature of the record as a whole — but the back and forth conversation between shoegazing patience and get-up-and-move begins as soon as the shove of “Willow Valley Blues” starts, and that is immediate.

It’s almost a call and response from there from one side to the other: “Tangerine Steam” channeling Dead Meadow while “Loops” basks in some of the most satisfying movement-based fuzz I’ve heard since Elvis Deluxe‘s woefully underappreciated Favourite State of Mind LP; “The Rhythm of Ooze” finding some middle ground between the two sides to lead into the more energetic “This Machine is Running” which gives way to the instrumental exploration in “Rainbow Fantasies” and “Pale Yellow”‘s rambling technicolor-cowboy drift; “Moles” once again reviving the swagger before “Born to Snooze” purposefully leaves its structure behind and sets out in its second half on one final exploration that will ultimately bring the album to an improvised-sounding and willfully imperfect end of synth and drums. These changes can be drastic but are easily followed with the mindful direction provided by the band, who do little to play to the novelty rawness indulged by some duos and instead take full advantage of a laudable creative range.

One more aspect to the album’s credit? The tones. I noted above aspects of shoegaze at work and the fuzz of “Loops,” but it’s only fair to emphasize the point of how much work the consistency of tone and the depth of tone does to unite the material throughout The Rhythm of Ooze. Tone is a key ingredient, and along with the vocal echo manipulations, it is what lets so much of Pretty Lightning‘s bluesy pulsations carry a psychedelic aspect as well. By giving the record this sense of fullness, they’ve made it all the more enticing a listen, and though they take risks in terms of setting up the contrast of tempos, tone is as much a factor in holding everything together as is the foundation of songcraft beneath the stylistic interplay.

The Rhythm of Ooze does not come apart and does not separate into its constituent aspects despite refusing to hold its shape, and Berghoff and Haas not only make their way through the maze they’ve set before themselves, but they do so without once getting lost along the way or veering off course. As such, their third long-player is a neo-psych collection brimming with purpose and fueled by a clear enthusiasm for its own making, passionately executed but not rushed even at its most active, and only stronger on the whole for the diversity and the chemistry so obviously at its core.

Pretty Lightning, The Rhythm of Ooze (2017)

Pretty Lightning on Thee Facebooks

Pretty Lightning on Bandcamp

Fuzz Club Records website

Fuzz Club Records on Bandcamp

Grainy VHS sci-fi footage, rocket boosters at full thrust, shots of space in all its practical-effects vastness mixed in with astronauts in various stages of trial and experimentation? Yup, that sounds about right for the kind of trippery Yagow proffer in the five-minute “Time to Get Rid of It.” The song comes from the German trio’s upcoming self-titled debut (review here), which is out June 16 on Crazysane Records, and the found material that makes up the clip for “Time to Get Rid of It” coalesces fluidly around the molten, cosmos-gazing rhythm of the track itself, resulting in a multi-sensory package that’s easy to digest and seems only to lead the listener from chill to chill over the course of its relatively brief but hypnotic five minutes.

And that’s pretty much the story of the thing. One of the major strengths of Yagow‘s Yagow is the firm confidence with which it advises those who’d take it on to strap themselves in and get ready for the outward ride that is about to and in fact does ensue. That kind of command is pretty rare in groups with such a lysergic focus, but Yagow treat it almost as an afterthought, and as they move forward one will be interested to hear how the underlying shuffle of a track like “Time to Get Rid of It” and its crafted hook wind up being treated as a stage in the development of the band. That is to say, I look forward to finding out in the longer term how nascent Yagow is as an album and where the trio might go in terms of sound and aesthetic in following it up.

But they should probably release it first. Once again, June 16 is the date for that, so keep an eye out. And while you’ve got your eye out, you can dig into the “Time to Get Rid of It” video below.

Please enjoy:

Yagow, “Time to Get Rid of It” official video

Video by Daniel Fuchs & Manuel Wesely

YAGOW is a psych-space-rock trio based in Saarbruecken, Germany. Loud guitars, drones and ghost-like vocals build up other-wordly soundscapes reminiscent of 70s avantgarde acts and the shoegazing sounds of the past decades.

Pressing Info:
Limited to 300 copies on black 12″ vinyl
Screenprinted PVC overbag (kinegram effect)
Neon-printed LP cover

Yagow is:
Marc Schönwald: Drums, Percussion
Kai Peifer: Bass on ‘non-contractual’
Jan Werner: Vocals, Guitars, Drones
Axel Rothhaar: Bass

Yagow on Thee Facebooks

Yagow website

Yagow preorder at Crazysane Records

Crazysane Records on Thee Facebooks

[Click play above to stream ‘Snake Charmer’ from the self-titled Yagow LP, out June 16 on Crazysane Records and available to preorder here.]

An overarching feel of lysergic serenity would seem to be the means to its own end on Yagow‘s self-titled debut, which is to say that the six-song first outing from the Saarbrücken, Germany, three-piece sets for its primary goal the very wash it uses to meet that goal. It is an exploration of vibe and mood, space-gazing through its 42-minute stretch propelled by unknown fuels. Recorded by the band — guitarist/vocalist/noisemaker Jan Werner, bassist Axel Rothhaar and drummer/percussionist Marc Schönwald with Kai Peifer (who also mixed, along with Werner and Berni Götz, who also mastered) on bass for side B’s “Non-Contractual” — and issued through Crazysane Records, Yagow‘s tuned-in headspaces should feel familiar to those who’ve worshiped at the altars of The Heads or Loop but they seem interested in casting their own melodic identity as well in these tracks.

One can hear this in the organ-style sounds of opener and longest track (immediate points) “Horsehead Nebula” or the sitar of the subsequent “Snake Charmer,” buried in the mix though it is, and the result is an outing of headphone-worthy depth that comes across as honest in its intentions and likewise assured in how to meet the goals it has set. Songs play out one into the next with a patient fluidity and perhaps a budding sense of nuance, and it seems that the only thing Yagow don’t leave room for in the album’s span is pretense. This is head music for a head audience. It’s not trying to say anything it doesn’t want to say and it’s not trying to be anything it isn’t. Listeners can either sign up for the journey or miss out on the trip that ensues.

For what it’s worth, the band makes a pretty compelling argument toward the former. While remaining up-front in their purposes and playing by the rules of vinyl modernity by splitting Yagow neatly in half, three cuts to a side, they nonetheless execute a classic psychedelic vibe — not necessarily playing to influences from the ’60s or ’70s, but certainly aware of those roots. Each song in the record’s first half — “Horsehead Nebula,” “Snake Charmer” and “Moss and Mint” — has something to stand it out from its compatriots, whether it’s the aforementioned melody and sitar of the opener and its follow-up or the return of that particularly blissful tone that either could be keys or could be guitar effects on “Moss and Mint,” coming on more languid the second time around and allowing the three-piece to convey an overarching flow as well as distinguish the individual from its surroundings. “Oh yeah, that’s the song where that happens,” and so on.

Whether this is done consciously or not on the part of the band — one doesn’t want to assume either way, and this material almost certainly has its beginnings in jams either improvised or led by one member or another — is secondary compared to the effect it has on the overall listening experience, which, when taken front to back, proves duly consuming and switched-on in its overall affect. As Werner‘s vocals drawl out amid the wash of “Moss and Mint” after the more winding space-charged fuzz of “Snake Charmer,” there’s some subtlety to be found for those who’d pay repeat visits to Yagow‘s psychedelic palace, but even if the album splits in half, it’s more about the entirety of the thing than any one song, or even part. And that’s not to its detriment in the slightest.

Rather, as side B starts with the more blown-out low end tonality of “Time to Get Rid of It,” that subtlety only turns out to make the offering richer on the whole. Atop a steady rhythm, vocals echo out and another distorted wash is conjured, and truth be told, Yagow have by this time set their methods forward for their audience. There’s little they do across the second half of their debut to deviate, but they do successfully build on what they’ve already accomplished sound-wise, which seems more important than it would be for them to present some radical shift. “Time to Get Rid of It” drifts into and through a section of vocals over chimes before Schönwald‘s drums resume their push into the song’s final third, and the eight-minute “Non-Contractual” makes its first impression with drums as well building to a trade of tension and release across its span that reminds a bit of a less folkish Quest for Fire, and toys with momentum in a manner that it seems a lot of the prior material avoided in favor of worshiping more ethereal atmospheres.

Perhaps in part because it’s longer — one might consider it a companion piece for the opener, as it also tops eight minutes — and perhaps in part because of the droning resonance that lays underneath a goodly portion of its stretch, “Non-Contractual” feels more expansive, especially in its back-half jam, with an element of vibrancy that serves it well leading into closer “Nude on the Moon Dance,” which echoes and reinforces the ringing tones of “Horsehead Nebula” and “Moss and Mint” as well as the thrusters-engaged forward rhythm of the latter portion of “Snake Charmer,” all while feeling a little less hinged in a way that speaks to the real potential of the band to let loose a little and break some of the rules they’ve set for themselves here.

It’s worth remembering, and important to remember, that while they’ve been around for a few years (their social media presence starts at 2013, if that’s any measure) this self-titled is their first collective outing, and ultimately it’s to their credit that one hears a song like “Time to Get Rid of It” and waits for Yagow to expand on what they presented in the album’s first half — because it means they’ve done their job in establishing their core sound. And so they have. The work before them now as they move from one liquefied slab onto the inevitable next should be in furthering the lightly progressive undertones delivered here. Maybe that’s in building on the arrangement flourish of “Snake Charmer” or in being willing to dive deeper into the off-the-cuff feel of “Non-Contractual” and “Nude on the Moon Dance” — I don’t know. It will be their songwriting that makes that decision in the end, but what matters for the time being is the foundation they’ve given themselves on which to build, which feels flexible enough to accommodate any range of directions they might want to take.

Yagow on Thee Facebooks

Yagow website

Yagow preorder at Crazysane Records

Crazysane Records on Thee Facebooks