Samurai‘s second album, Sol de Sangre, is 86 minutes long. Obviously that’s too much to fit on a single compact disc, let alone a vinyl LP. In the digital realm, it doesn’t matter — make your record three hours if you want, it’s just another file — but for Sol de Sangre the length seems like a particularly deliberate choice. Their 2011 debut, Todo el Odio del Unicornio (review here), was 45 minutes, about the length of either of Sol de Sangre‘s two component 43-minute discs, each of which features seven tracks. So why double-up? Sol de Sangre has no fewer than six songs over six minutes long, and pressing a second disc for an album is a considerable expense. Surely one of them could have been cut to make it work as a single-CD if the band had wanted to do so. So what’s the motive to essentially release a sophomore outing that’s two albums? The ambition is noteworthy and commendable, and the results are engaging to and beyond the point of hypnosis — particularly in some of those longer tracks like “Cigarro Americano” or “Primavera Arabe” — but there has to be some root reason why the trio wouldn’t just save the money and give one of these cuts the axe. Near as I can read into it, the first half of Sol de Sangre has more of a focus on hooks and catchy traditional songwriting, while the second disc, which opens with the extended trio “1870,” “Viento Negro” and “Ninja del Silencio” (all over seven minutes long), is farther ranging and more psychedelic. But it’s not always as clear a line between the two sides as one might think.

The elements that enticed in the debut remain intact. Guitarist/vocalist Vincente Armando, bassist David Parren and drummer Santiago Montricchio conjure warm tones and natural grooves in keeping with Argentina’s rich history of heavy rock and psychedelia. It’s a distinct style within the wider sphere of heavy rock, and Samurai do well to put their stamp on it across Sol de Sangre, beginning with “Balada del Sol,” the leadoff of disc one and the longest song on the album as a whole (immediate points). Where later first-disc cuts like “Higado” and “Este Cuarto” will take a shorter route, “Balada del Sol” sets a tone of not-quite-lush arrangements but an overarching fullness of sound that is maintained throughout, Parren‘s bass beginning the track soon to be joined by Armando‘s desert-hued guitar and Montriccio‘s echoing crash. Instrumental as much of the focus of Sol de Sangre is, it’s the first of the album’s really prime jams, following a plotted course, maybe, but leaving room for spontaneity along that path. “Mente por Hoy,” which follows, shoots almost immediately into its verse, Armando‘s vocals dry and forward in the mix, but giving way in the second half to a momentary guitar blissout before a chorus returns. A telling trilogy is completed with “Cigarro Americano,” which essentially melds the two approaches before it — a jam and a hook — to something of its own. This is the heart of what Sol de Sangre has to offer, and through the Kyuss-rolling “Cuatro Ramas” and “Higado,” the nodding “Primavera Arabe” and relatively brief but spacious finish in “Este Cuarto,” they seem to lean to one side or another of what’s presented in those first three tracks, ending the first half of the album with feedback and noise before an echoing guitar line flourishes out to remind the listener there’s more to come.

What Samurai have done, essentially, is set for themselves a solid foundation from which to branch out, and with the second disc, they do precisely that. No doubt part of the second disc’s overall more psychedelic impression stems from the aforementioned opening salvo of “1870” (7:58), “Viento Negro” (8:23) and “Ninja del Silencio” (7:03), the first of which is perhaps the most molten on the entire 86-minute span, Armando ripping into a layered solo that plays out into dreamy noodling as the song draws down toward its ending. “Viento Negro” has more solidified fuzz, but still spaces out plenty as well, and a similar vibe is enacted for “Ninja del Silencio,” the verses giving way to a layered solo jam that holds sway through the finish, but even the shorter “Perros Locos” seems to play off a more psychedelic feel than much of the first disc. It returns to its central riff toward the end, but by then, has gone plenty far out from its verse and chorus, and though it’s the shortest cut on the disc at 4:09, the ensuing “Flores Azules” is instrumental and essentially built around repetition of a single movement, so that has a more propulsive than grounded feel, despite a departure from some of the reverb wash that has appeared elsewhere on Sol de Sangre. That wash, as it happens, resumes with “Santuario Oculto,” one of Samurai‘s most satisfying included rollouts, the only shame of which is that it’s buried so deep in the album that it’s bound to be lost on some listeners. Still, tonally and in its meld, it’s an efficient mirror of “Cigarro Americano,” and makes for a last-minute underscoring of what has worked well throughout Sol de Sangre before the acoustic-led title-track finishes out. “Sol de Sangre” is the only appearance of acoustics on the album that carries its name, and one almost wishes Samurai had layered them in with some of their more psyched-up moments, since the resonance they carry would work well, but they serve the stripped-down finale ably nonetheless, even if they arrive somewhat out of context after 81 solid minutes of distorted wash and echo.

Another aspect of their sound to develop for next time around? Could be. Samurai‘s approach is already plenty broad within heavy rock and psych, but further dynamic progression and depth of arrangement doesn’t seem like something that would hurt. No doubt Sol de Sangre will be too much for some who’d approach it casually, but as it progresses from its first disc to its second, the album reveals its true strength, which is to become even more immersive as it moves toward that unplugged closer. It is an ambitious follow-up full-length, showing both evolution from the debut and potential for continued growth for the band.

Samurai, Sol de Sangre

Samurai on Thee Facebooks

Samurai on Bandcamp

Information on the band is relatively sparse, but Todo el Odio del Unicornio… is the self-released debut full-length from Santa Fe, Argentina, desert rock trio Samurai. It arrives with nine component tracks that run a 45-minute course of sandy-dune familiarity, nodding at the heady jams of countrymen Los Natas’ earlier work and in turn that band’s own stylistic forebears in Kyuss, and where likeminded next gen rockers Humo del Cairo took roughly the same style and pushed it into fuller-toned sonic realms on their second record, Samurai seem content to relish in a natural-sounding humility. The fuzz in Vincente Armando’s guitar does much of the talking when it comes to the central ethics of Todo el Odio del Unicornio…, a song like second track “Cassablanca” seems to stack its layers of psyched-out leads one on top of the next. On the whole, the work is derivative, but not without its charm and by no means poorly made. Argentina has a number of heavy psych acts somewhat less definitively stonerized, and their blatant, still clearly developing take on the style is part of what gives these songs their edge. Production is minimally invasive, and I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Samurai, which is Armando on guitar/vocals alongside bassist David Ezqueil and drummer Santiago Montruchio, recorded live (if they did; like I said, info is sparse), such is the extent to which the instrumentation especially does the work of conveying a human feel. Ezquiel’s bass could be louder in the mix, but I’m a sucker for bass on this kind of recording, so take that with a grain of salt – in any case, Samurai’s debut is not lacking for low end warmth, whether it’s Armando’s own in the guitar or the periodic thud of Montruchio’s floor tom and steady kick drum.

And there’s something to be said, especially in desert rock, for faithful recreation of what’s been done before. Opener “Moto” starts out with a riff that for a second seems to hint at Saint Vitus’ “I Bleed Black” before setting the course that most of the rest of Todo el Odio del Unicornio… will follow – namely that of straightforward riffing and intriguing, driving rhythms. Armando’s vocals are well-mixed semi-melodic shouts that seem at times to be consumed by the relative swell of the music surrounding. Like a lot of the record, that’s done right for what the band is trying to achieve. Samurai are pretty clearly familiar with the style they’re engaging, and they still manage to inject some personality of their own into what they play, so the likes of “Moto,” “Cassablanca” and “La Tradición de la Sonrisa” – which follows in more directly Natas-derived form – give a fair impression. Breaking the album into thirds, the first three tracks of Todo el Odio del Unicornio… comprise the longest, the 17-minutes seemingly meant to envelop or engross the listener, zoning them out as the rest of the record builds on what’s already established. It’s a solid ethic, and again, Samurai aren’t the first to employ it, but they do so well, and as “Más Rápido” takes hold from “La Tradición de la Sonrisa,” I find I’m more willing to go along with its motor-rocking push than I might be had I not already been lulled by the 12-minute opening duo particularly. This skillful structuring plays out across the CD – centerpiece ‘The Masters” fittingly placed as one of the most memorable cuts – and proves to be a major factor in the band’s potential, showing they’re not just riffing out and letting the rest fall together as it may (admirable as that ethic is sometimes) but instead consciously thinking about what they want their debut to be.

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