Atavismo Announce Indefinite Hiatus

Posted in Whathaveyou on October 10th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

If they’re really done — that is, if the hiatus that Atavismo have newly announced will stick permanently — then I’m singularly sorry not to have seen the band. The Algeciras-based heavy psych and progressive outfit made their debut with the 2014 album Desintegración (discussed here; review here), and their most recent offering was the single, “Psicopatías del 2021” (premiered here), a reinterpretation of a track by the associated project Mind! that appeared on the Spinda Records 7″ compilation Grados. Minutos. Segundos., sprawling and limited as that was. Their most recent standalone release was 2018’s Valdeinfierno EP (review here), which followed their second LP, 2017’s Inerte (review here).

So you can see maybe it’s been a while, but I have no hesitation in telling you Atavismo was a special band, even never having seen them play. The Algeciras-based four-piece contributed significantly to the progressive course of Spanish psychedelia in the last decade, and the telltale blend of folk and heavy psych influences can in turn be heard in a slew of regional acts who’ve taken cues at least in part from what Atavismo did on their first two albums. I somehow doubt these people are actually done making music. Guitarist/vocalist Jose “Poti” Moreno has a pedigree that dips back to the seminal rock outfit Viaje a 800, while drummer Sandri Pow and bassist Mat both played with Moreno in Mind!, yes, the same band Atavismo covered on what’s now their swansong single.

I don’t know the circumstances behind the disbanding, but given the creative track of the members of Atavismo, the fact that Viaje a 800 were flirting with doing shows again, on and on, there will be more music. I’m bummed I didn’t see them play, but I’m awfully glad they played, and I’ll maybe always feel a bit like they called it quits too soon ahead of what would surely have been a joy of a third album. So it goes.

Their announcement, translated from the original Spanish, follows here. It appeared on social media:

atavismo

It’s often said that a withdrawal time is a win.. And that’s how we all feel about making this decision.

No one knows what the future will hold for us, but since the only thing we live is the present, we went down here… We’ve decided to park Atavismo indefinitely…

We are still family but we need to be accountable to ourselves and our personal well being.

Thank you so much for being a part of our world, and for your support, as we always say, this would not be possible without you.

A big hug to all.

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R.I.P. Tom Davies of Nebula, 1975-2023

Posted in Features on September 6th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Tom Davies of Nebula (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Stepping back from his duties as longtime bassist for heavy psych rock pioneers Nebula this past Spring, Tom Davies let it be known that he was battling leukemia. Today word has come from Davies’ family that he has unfortunately passed away. The following was posted tonight, Sept. 6, on Davies’ social media:

Dear Friends,

We want to let you know that it’s with great sadness Tom died peacefully last night surrounded by his Mum, Sister and Partner Camille. The past 9 months living with high risk Leukemia were the most challenging of his life and he faced every hurdle with great strength, courage, determination and of course humor.

We want to thank everyone for their love and support during this time, he felt the love which bolstered him in his darkest moments.

Our world will never be the same again but we feel blessed to have had him in our lives.

Love
Grethe, Camille, Sarah and Will x

Tom Davies 1975 – 2023

Tom Davies joined Nebula in Sept. 2004 and went on to serve nearly 20 sometimes-tumultuous years in the band as the trio founded by guitarist/vocalist Eddie Glass released two albums — 2006’s Apollo and 2009’s wildly undervalued Heavy Psych — before a hiatus that lasted the better part of a decade. But when Nebula came back, Davies came back with them, and the trio of Davies, Glass and drummer Mike Amster took to stages around the world successfully, reissued the band’s entire catalog as well as a collection of demos and off-album whatnots through Heavy Psych Sounds — a label whose founder readily acknowledges Nebula’s influence on his own band Black Rainbows — took part as a flagship act in the ‘Live in the Mojave Desert’ stream and live album series, and, most crucially, put out two studio LPs in 2019’s so-correctly-named Holy Shit and last year’s Transmission From Mothership Earth.

As runs go, even accounting for a global pandemic, that’s nothing short of incredible. I won’t at all claim to know the details of Davies’ life, but even just to look at the outpouring of support after his diagnosis came out in April. The fundraiser that pulled in $16,000-plus to go toward medical expenses. The compilation Ripple Music put together this Spring. Countless notes of support from bands, friends, fans, tour mates, labelmates, whoever. By all accounts, the world seems to have lost a decent human being as well as an obviously talented and charismatic player.

I was fortunate enough to interview Davies on a couple of occasions, and he was always a nice guy. A combination of West Coast ultra-caszh with a British politeness underneath. He thought before he spoke, at least in all my dealings with him. On behalf of myself and this site, I’d like to express sincere condolences to Davies’ family, his friends, his bandmates past and present and all who knew him. That he will be missed is no doubt an understatement.

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R.I.P. Steffen Weigand, Drummer of My Sleeping Karma

Posted in Features on June 13th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Sad news today from the camp of mostly-German instrumentalist meditative psych innovators My Sleeping Karma, who have announced the passing of drummer Steffen Weigand. The four-piece, of which Weigand was a founding member, put word out on social media as follows:

Dear MSK Family,

We are devastated to inform you that our brother Steffen has passed away this morning surrounded by his loved ones.

Our thoughts and deepest condolences are with his family.

We are heartbroken and have no more words right now.

Weigand’s death comes after a battle with a rare kind of cancer that consumed the final three-plus years of his life. In Dec. 2022, a GoFundMe was launched that exceeded its 50,000 Euro goal with the aim of supporting Weigand and his family as well as helping to pay for medical and other costs. His passing leaves an uncertain future for My Sleeping Karma, who have limited their live activity in the last year-plus as he struggled against the disease.

As a member of My Sleeping Karma alongside guitarist Seppi, soundboardist Norman Mehren and bassist Matte Vandeven, Weigand was an essential component in one of the last generation of heavy psychedelia’s most crucial and influential progressions. The shape of the genre would not be what it is today without their, and his, contributions to it, and his progressive style of drumming remained part of what allowed the band to remain consistently exploratory the time of their 2006 self-titled debut through their 2022 album, Atma.

Working with Elektrohasch Schallplatten, the Munich-based label run by Colour Haze guitarist/vocalist Stefan Koglek, My Sleeping Karma’s first three albums — the self-titled, 2008’s Satya and 2010’s Tri — found the band discovering the smoothness of sound and the spiritual themes that would guide them thereafter, honing an individualism of style and production that allowed for a heavy impact and a distinct, thoughtful resonance in melody complemented as always by rhythmic flow. As the drummer, Weigand was often the ground over which their guitar and keyboard, even bass, melodies floated, but his creativity in that was more than complement to the music. It was the heart, beating.

In 2012, My Sleeping Karma left Elektrohasch to release their fourth album, Soma, through Napalm Records via an imprint called Spinning Goblin Productions. That album would become a defining effort from the band as they toured and became regulars at festivals like Desertfest and Stoned From the Underground, Freak Valley and so on, and their influence spread accordingly to a new generation beginning to embrace both heavy psych rock and an instrumental approach for which My Sleeping Karma (not alone, but prominently) provided a ready guidepost. By the time Moksha arrived in 2015, My Sleeping Karma was signed to Napalm proper, and considered among Europe’s finest in the style. Their maturity was manifest throughout the album in a serene sound so much like water in its movement, and again, Weigand provided the undercurrent that carried the listener through.

The band’s only live album, Mela Ananda (Live), was issued in 2017, and for those like myself who were never fortunate enough to see My Sleeping Karma play, it reaffirmed just how much we were missing. The dynamic and chemistry between the band — who, remember, were more than a decade removed from their debut at the time — was on ready display, and new and old material was presented with vitality and palpable, infectious joy. The ‘show’ ended and one could only smile. By the time Atma arrived, Weigand’s illness was public, and the spirit of the music had grown melancholy and perhaps challenged by the pandemic, but still they harnessed the special musical conversation that has typified all their work and found a way to see light where many could find none. It was a beautiful album, and as Weigand’s last, it will remain a bittersweet landmark in their catalog.

On behalf of myself and this site, I offer sincere condolences to the remaining members of My Sleeping Karma, as well as Weigand’s family, friends and others who were touched by his work. I count myself in that number, and I am that much sadder for never having watched him play on stage. It is known that My Sleeping Karma began every set with a hug shared at centerstage by all four members of the band. To think of that embrace missing one of the four hurts in a way that tells you the magnitude of the loss. My Sleeping Karma were, are, a family, and they very much presented themselves in that light. That family has lost a loved one.

Rest in peace, Steffen Weigand, and thank you for the work you did. It is a thing to be all the more treasured, and a reminder to share your love with the world around you, as Weigand so clearly did.

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R.I.P. Frank Kozik, 1962-2023

Posted in Whathaveyou on May 10th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

frank kozik 2

Frank Kozik was a pioneer of heavy rock without needing to pick up a guitar. Born in 1962, he became a poster artist, graphic designer, toy designer, and as the head of Man’s Ruin Records between 1994-2002, he spearheaded the heavy rock revival of the post-Kyuss 1990s, releasing pivotal works from bands like Acid King, Goatsnake, (Los) Natas, Brant Bjork, The Hellacopters, Alabama Thunderpussy, the Melvins, Fu Manchu, Dozer, Unida, Nebula, Solarized, Fatso Jetson, High on Fire, Sons of Otis, Suplecs, Tummler, Begotten, Altamont, on and on.

His contributions to underground music’s visual aesthetic have been an influence the work of artists and musicians alike, and they will continue to be. It is arguable the revival of vinyl would not be what it is without his breaking that stylistic ground 25 years ago, and inarguable that Man’s Ruin helped shape modern heavy rock in the US, overseeing a generational shift that brought ‘stoner rock’ closer to the mainstream than it has ever been since.

Kozik’s page on Facebook posted an update, saying:

frank kozik note

We are devastated to inform you that Frank Kozik passed away unexpectedly this past Saturday.

Frank was a man larger than himself, an icon in each of the genres he worked in. He dramatically changed every industry he was a part of. He was a creative force of nature. We are so beyond lucky and honored to have been part of his journey, and he will be missed beyond what words could ever express.

He loved his wife, his cats, classic muscle cars, mentoring others, and Disneyland. His forceful presence will be missed by all who knew him. His legacy, like all great masters, will live on through his art and our memories of him.

More info on a memorial service will come soon.

For now, we ask you to please respect our privacy during this trying time.

With love,
Sharon and the Cats

On behalf of myself and this site, heartfelt condolences to Kozik’s family and friends, and deep appreciation for what Kozik did for pop art in general but for underground heavy especially. I didn’t know him personally — hit him up once to do an interview about the label, wish he had said yes — but I count myself fortunate to own records he put out and posters he drew or designed and his work has enriched my life. I don’t think I’m alone in that. He’s someone whose loss will be powerfully felt. He was 61 years old.

Frank Kozik on Facebook

Frank Kozik on Instagram

Frank Kozik website

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Leanne Ridgeway Destroys Cancer (And You Help)

Posted in Whathaveyou on April 14th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

DONATE NOW

Heavy underground promoter, publicist and all around wonderful human being Leanne Ridgeway has the cancer.

With the clusterfuck that is the US healthcare system in mind, that should be all you need to know. While she has insurance to cover the major medical costs, there are still the endless co-pays, impossible life bills, and mounting debt from loss of income due to exhausting her PTO to be paid.

Leanne is staring down the barrel of these all-too-real concerns while also embarking on a schedule of chemo and radiation. She needs our help. If you believe in communities of any kind, this is what they’re for.

Will your hard-earned cash make the cancer disappear? No. But in addition to providing necessary and appreciated fiscal support, your donation will show someone who has spent years helping others just how much she is genuinely loved.

If you’re reading this as a part of a heavy rock scene anywhere on this planet, I guarantee your life has been made better by Leanne’s work. Know that your help matters. You can be a crucial part of getting her through this harrowing journey, and large or small, no amount is unwelcome. Thanks to and for all, and get well soon, Leanne.

DONATE NOW (YES, AGAIN)

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R.I.P. Dave Sherman, 1966-2022

Posted in Features on September 6th, 2022 by JJ Koczan

earthride dave sherman

After truly living doom as much anyone ever has, Dave Sherman, bassist of Spirit Caravan and King Valley and frontman of Earthride, Wretched, Weed is Weed, and Galactic Cross, among others, has died. Word spread through social media that Sherman had passed; though the rumor was a cardiac event, the cause is yet unconfirmed. Born Oct. 16, 1966, Sherman was 55 years old.

Sherman was an inimitable stage presence and a creative soul. He always had a touch of mischief, but also always wanted everyone in on the joke. He was bigger than every stage he played on, and he played on every size stage. I had the good fortune to be in touch with him over the years about music, several interviews, and so on. Sometimes he was one of the smart kids playing dumb. When he walked into a room, you knew it, not the least by his voice.

And at least in my own experience, he was a humble, sweet guy. Shy in a way. I’ll miss thinking there might be another Earthride record coming or a chance of another Spirit Caravan reunion, or another Galactic Cross record, though the Earthride catalog remains particularly pristine for something that delighted in sounding so totally dirty.

He should have been mayor of Frederick, Maryland, but he was royalty in that scene and his loss will be felt for years. Doom on the East Coast and beyond grieves.

As bassist for Shine and Spirit Caravan, Sherman provided a perfect counterpoint to the guitar of Scott “Wino” Weinrich, and the two remain linked indelibly through the work they did on Spirit Caravan’s two full-lengths, EP, and other releases. Stirring the pot at front of the stage for Earthride, he was a man in his element. I can see him on stage at Cafe 611, Maryland doom incarnate at Maryland Doom Fest, soaking it in like the life force it was. And that is how I prefer to remember him. In his band, in that spot.

Dave Sherman will be missed.

On behalf of myself — still somewhat reeling, so pardon me — and this site, I send condolences to everyone who knew Sherm, and that was a great many people. His bandmates and family alone is a long list, especially for a man who made so many feel like family. To his friends in Frederick and worldwide, love.

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R.I.P. Dano Sanchez, Co-Founder of Monolith on the Mesa

Posted in Whathaveyou on October 5th, 2021 by JJ Koczan

It’s a sad occasion of course to mark the passing of Dano Sanchez, one of the co-founders alongside Roman Barham of the Monolith on the Mesa festival in Taos, New Mexico. If there’s any positive to take from it, consider the fact that the GoFundMe linked below is well past its fundraising target to support funeral costs and his family, so at very least it’s something to see a community pull together. Barham has said the fest will proceed, not this year, but in 2022, and there will be other tribute events as well. I spoke with Dano just a couple of times and can’t claim to have known him well or anything, but that he was a deeply creative person with a vision for manifesting a communal experience is evident in the work he did and the legacy he leaves behind. If you’re wondering, I don’t know what his Covid vaccine status was and I don’t really care. If he had a shot or not it doesn’t make his death any less of a loss.

The official notice of his passing follows here, as came down the PR wire on Friday:

dano sanchez

Monolith On The Mesa co-founder Dano Sanchez passed away September 26 in Taos, NM

“I want this festival to keep alive the spirit of DIY! Monolith is real, nothing artificial here.”
– Dano Sanchez

It is with deep sadness that Roman Barham, and the Monolith on the Mesa team, announce the passing of Daniel “Dano” Sanchez on Sunday, September 26th in Taos, New Mexico. Dano is survived by his wife Ashley Sanchez, and his children, sons Dylan and Ashton, and daughter Rowan. Dano, who succumbed to complications associated with COVID19, made a name for himself, and for his artwork at Magical Tattoos, in addition to becoming known internationally for building an independent three-day music and immersive arts festival.

“We sincerely appreciate the abundance of support we are receiving from all those who loved Daniel as we do,” Ashley Sanchez states on behalf of the family. “We are hurting, and FAR from peace,” she continues, “but the message I received from Daniel was that he is now traveling intergalactically without human limitations, and riding those cosmic waves with an infinite joint in hand. Our family is so grateful for the emotional, spiritual, and financial contributions from near and far. Through the pain, we are held up by those who are willing to share photos, earth-bound experiences, and even visits from the beyond. We will continue to honor Daniel at Magical Tattoo as the sacred space it is, to experience the expressions, and artistic influence he left with us.”

“We would like to thank everyone from the bottom of our hearts for all the love and support for Dano and his family,” says Roman Barham, Dano’s partner and close family friend. “The GoFundMe fundraiser has surpassed our expectations and showed us how much Dano meant to so many people. So again, thank you everyone who donated. Please take care of each other out there and be safe.”

Jayson Wylie, owner of Taos Mesa Brewery where the festival is held told Taos News “Dano’s vision was an inspiration to me and those around him. He will be sorely missed.”

Roman Barham, plans to continue producing Monolith on the Mesa as he and Dano had intended for 2022. Barham says “Dano was one of my best friends, a true inspiration and a kind soul. He’d want the festival to go on. Right now I am planning a fundraiser/memorial for him on October 23rd at the El Rey in Albuquerque, NM. I’ll announce the line-up and more details soon.”

The GoFundMe page can be found HERE: https://www.gofundme.com/f/help-support-dano-sanchezs-family-and-funeral

Monolith on the Mesa, conceived as a yearly event, takes place at the Taos Mesa Brewing Mothership, and on the grounds of Hotel Luna Mystica, just outside of Taos, New Mexico. The festival is focused on heavy riff-rock acts from across multiple sub-genres including stoner rock, heavy psych, doom metal, sludge, drone, and retro rock. The dramatic vistas, and multiple stages, along with immersive art installations, make this festival a unique experience that attracts artists, bands, and fans from around the globe.

https://www.monolithonthemesa.com
https://www.facebook.com/monolithonthemesa
https://www.instagram.com/monolithonthemesa
https://magicaltattoo.com/

Monolith on the Mesa 2019 recap

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Who Am I Without Live Music?

Posted in Features on September 17th, 2021 by JJ Koczan

saint vitus bar empty

Like a lot of people, I’ve spent the better part of the last year and a half separate from what I’d previously known as reality. A divergent timeline, splintered off from where it should be. It’s been a long Covid-19 pandemic, and I don’t think it’s going away anytime soon.

Really, I don’t. I see people announcing shows, playing shows, announcing tours, going on tours, and all I can think to myself is, “yeah, stay safe out there.” I’m vaccinated. If and when a booster is offered, I’ll be all over it. But I never stopped wearing a mask and certainly have continued to do so amid the rise of Delta variant numbers and deaths over the last several months. And I haven’t been to a proper, indoor club show since January 2020. Almost 19 months to the day.

I’ve attended outdoor gigs a few times — including just a couple weeks ago — but even for those I’ve largely stayed masked and despite knowing that open-air transmission of the virus is unlikely, I’m still scared. I can admit that, right? I’m scared. Isn’t that what it comes down to?

I’m scared for myself. I’m scared for my mother. For the rest of my family. For my son who’s too young to be vaccine-eligible. I’m scared for my wife, so exceptional in so many ways, getting a breakthrough infection being back at work on her college campus this semester. After all this time of living in this horrible new ‘normal,’ I’m still actively terrorized by the idea that not only could I get sick but I could be responsible for someone else getting sick. I could kill somebody I love by breathing the same air.

Checking case numbers has become a ritual. I look every day. It’s like checking the weather. 72 and sunny; 154,000 cases and 3,415 deaths yesterday. That death toll has been ticking up; case numbers evening out. But as school has started again and winter looms, I have a hard time imagining going out is about to get any easier.

This is true for me, understand. It doesn’t have to be you. You don’t have to agree. You don’t have to feel the same. I live in the American Northeast, in New Jersey. I’ve been attending concerts since before I could go without parental accompaniment, and as an adult, concerts and festivals have become a major part of my every single year. Who am I without that? I asked the question off the cuff earlier this week and I’ve been asking it in my head ever since. This is a piece of my identity, gone.

So many of my best memories are of shows. Alice in Chains at Lollapalooza 1993. Type O Negative at the Birch Hill however many times. Scissorfight and Pelican at the Knitting Factory in Manhattan. More shows at SXSW from 2003-2007 than I could ever hope to remember. The Book of Knots at Gramercy. Neurosis at Roadburn in the Netherlands. Høstsabbat in Norway. Psycho Las Vegas. Maryland Doom Fest. Om, Colour Haze, Sungrazer, Solace, Acid King. Touring with good friends in Kings Destroy. Hell, making those friends in the first place.

It’s a long, long list, and I don’t say that in an attempt to establish imaginary bona fides. I’ve never been cool, will never be cool. I’m trying to tell you it’s a part of who I am. Being in these places at these times has helped shape me. For better or worse, it has made me me. And I don’t know if I’ll ever get that back.

Melodrama is not my interest here. I don’t think I’ve seen my last club show or my last festival. As with many others, I’m making travel plans for 2022 — and missing travel is a big part of this, make no mistake — but even if those come to fruition, how can it be what it was? How can I not be fooling myself into ignoring that underlying fear of disease, even with all reasonable precautions taken?

I have so much in my life that I should be and am grateful for. My wife, my son, our families. My few but treasured friends. The house I live in. The records people send me to write about, and the fact that anybody might see these words at all; the support this site gets and has gotten over the last 12-plus years. So many of the good memories, music-related and otherwise, on which I can reflect. And when I check my privilege, I find it abundant. I have not worked one day at a job during this entire time.

But even amid this, and with hopeful announcements of shows and tours and fests filling my inbox and social media feeds, I feel as if a piece of me has caught this virus and died of it.

Who am I without live music? I am mourning. I have grown older, fatter, greyer, more frustrated and sadder for it. And this is the part of the internet-thinkpiece where usually there’s offered a sliver of hope, but I have none. In my heart of hearts, I believe that even if this virus and all its creepy-fingered variants magically disappeared tomorrow, I’d never be able to enjoy the experience of a live show in the same way again.

I will miss it for as long as I live.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

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