I’ve made no secret of my Sverige fetish since starting this site (and yes, at some point there will be a Swede-only podcast), but when it comes to nailing down a scene as important to the underground heavy as the Swedish one has been, it’s hard to even know where to start this Where to Start.

Let’s be clear: I’m talking about stoner rock only. The nation of Sweden has had a tremendous impact on metal, from Kebnekajse to At the Gates to Witchcraft and Graveyard, but that’s not what I’m interested in. I’m talking about riffs, crashes, fuzz and good vibes. Swedish stoner rock.

Even so, it’s a challenge to narrow down so many killer bands to just a few essentials. If you’re looking to embark on a listening adventure through Sweden‘s contributions to the genre, you should know it’s a serious undertaking that will probably consume years of your life. I’m not kidding. Here are a few bands and albums to get you started (listed alphabetically):

Abramis Brama, Smakar Söndag: Yes, it’s in Swedish. You’ll live.

Asteroid, Asteroid: I’ve talked about this band a lot in the last year-plus. Both of their albums are amazing. Life is but a joke to Dr. Smoke.

Demon Cleaner, Demon Cleaner: One of the original post-Kyuss Swede-stoner acts. They were a little punkier, but still heavy on the riffs.

Read more »

It was strange walking down the steps into Burlington, Vermont‘s Pure Pop Records this past Saturday, because I’d been there before. Six years ago, when The Patient Mrs. and I were first married, we took off headed north on the Thruway, just as a kind of mini-getaway post-wedding. Our actual honeymoon was still a few months off, and we ended up in Burlington by happenstance, just because it was there, and we must have hit Pure Pop on that trip — don’t ask me what I bought — so being back there was a dreamy deja vu. No, it didn’t affect the shopping experience.

I’d already been in and out of Burlington Records and Downtown Records (?) with no finds. I almost bought a jewel case copy of Scissorfight‘s Mantrapping for Sport and Profit from the latter, because I only own the digipak and because we’re situated right next to New Hampshire and I consider everything north of Massachusetts to be Scissorfight country, but changed my mind last minute. A choice I lived to regret. I didn’t have high hopes for Pure Pop, because it’s one of those super-indie stores that so loves being indie, but I did alright in the end.

They have an experimental/post-metal/doom/stuff-snobs-like section that runs a gamut from Acid Mothers Temple to Sleep to John Zorn, and Slayer was filed under rock, not metal, but most of what I found was in the comedy section anyway. I grabbed Mitch Hedberg‘s Do You Believe in Gosh?, Patton Oswalt‘s Feelin’ Kinda Patton and 222, which is the same show, just unedited, and from the regular old metal section on in the far corner of the store, Ereb Altor‘s second album, The End, which I haven’t listened to yet, but can only imagine from what I remember of 2008′s By Honour sounds like Bathory-style Viking metal played at half speed. Translation: awesome.

I don’t suppose it was the best haul ever — I was at least momentarily more psyched by the shaved ice flavor “Tiger Blood” that was available at the nearby outdoor market — but screw it, comedy records are good for long drives, and I’ve been doing plenty of that lately. And honestly, I’d have grabbed some stuff out of that avant/pretentious section if I didn’t already own everything I wanted from it, so no slight on Pure Pop, which had a reasonably well-organized layout and broad range of available goods.

The dude behind the counter, who seemed to have some kind of animal tooth inserted in his septum (an instant reminder of the unintentionally hilarious Walking with Cavemen; Alec Baldwin‘s finest moment of voice-over) was polite and friendly enough, not condescending to my less than stellar finds, and all in all I felt positive about the experience. Cap the day off with a trip to the Ben and Jerry’s factory off the I-89 in Waterbury and mark it a win.

Kind of hard to believe, but an Obelisk search for Roachpowder brings up nothing. This means either I’ve mentioned them before and all my back posts are deleted (and if that’s the case, I don’t want to know), or this post is the first time the Stockholm band have been discussed on the site. They were pretty killer. End of discussion.

Stay tuned next week as we’ll wrap the month of July. I have exciting news regarding both my life situation and The Maple Forum, so look for that to come before next Friday, as well as reviews from Horseback, Black Sleep of Kali and several others. Next week is my last in Vermont, and The Patient Mrs. and I are headed to Burlington over the weekend, so I hope to come back with some Buried Treasure-type goodies to report on.

Good fun all around. I hope you enjoy the Roachpowder track above and I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Cheers.

It wouldn’t be accurate to think of Spiritual Beggars as the first Swedish heavy rock band, because Sweden has been turned on and tuned in since the beginning, but what guitarist Michael Amott’s post-Carcass outfit did was embrace a more modern stoner sound and help found the scene that would later grow into one of the world’s most vibrant and prolific. And what’s more, they rocked. There’s no discounting the earliest work of Spiritual Beggars in the ‘90s. In both quality and influence, 1994’s Spiritual Beggars, 1996’s Another Way to Shine and 1998’s Mantra III are essential documents for anyone looking to understand the growth of European stoner rock.

Spiritual Beggars’ latest offering, Return to Zero (InsideOut/Century Media) is notable before you even hit play because of (Per Wiberg’s moustache, but also) the departure of vocalist JB Christoffersson, who left the band on good terms to focus on his main project, the mighty Grand Magus. Replacing Christoffersson is Apollo Papathanasio of Greek power metallers Firewind – you may have heard the name because guitarist Gus G. is now playing with Ozzy Osbourne – and though Christoffersson’s work on 2002’s On Fire and 2005’s Demons is not to be duplicated, Papathanasio does an admirable job, proving he’s a soulful, versatile singer in his own right, able to match Amott’s riff and solo magic with a bluesy throat and powerful delivery, and ultimately a worthy successor to Christoffersson and original vocalist Christian “Spice” Sjöstrand.

Amott is no stranger to melody, being a principal figure in melodic death metal as guitarist for the massively successful Arch Enemy. On Return to Zero, his songwriting formula is potent as ever across highlight tracks like post-intro opener “Lost in Yesterday,” metal-loving anthem “We are Free” (which makes good and honest use of the central riff of Black Sabbath’s “Hole in the Sky,” topping it with canned crowd noise) and “The Chaos of Rebirth,” in which the rhythm section of Sharlee D’Angelo (bass; Mercyful Fate, Arch Enemy, etc.) and Ludwig Witt (drums; Firebird) pull off stops and turns that would have lesser bands crashing and probably breaking up before they figured them out. Of course, the guitars lead the way the majority of the time, but if Amott meets his match anywhere in Spiritual Beggars, it’s with keyboardist Per Wiberg – who, for the remainder of this review, shall be referred to, with love, as “Per Wiberg and His Magical Mystery Moustache.”

Read more »

It’s true, I had campaigned outside Michael Amott‘s house for him to call the new Spiritual Beggars record The Life and Times of Per Wiberg’s Moustache, but that was a big no dice. He decided to call it Return to Zero instead, which I guess is alright. If you like things that were more than zero and then went back to being zero. It’ll do.

The album’s gotten a North American release date of Oct. 12. It’ll be out Aug. 25 in Japan (they’re huge there) and Aug. 30 in Europe, so I suppose the only real question is am I going to be able to wait that long to hear it. Let’s assume not, and enjoy this PR wire news together:

Sweden’s Spiritual Beggars finally return to the spotlight with their first new studio album in five years, Return to Zero. Once again, the Beggars effortlessly manage to confirm they are a band that continues to defy musical boundaries and that delivers classic heavy rock at its very best! The much anticipated disc is set for an Oct. 12^th North American release via InsideOut Music.

Spiritual Beggars uploaded a short audio sample of the new album as a pre-listening teaser. For more information please check the band’s MySpace profile, as well as their Twitter. The official tracklisting is below as well. This album marks the group’s first offering with Apollo Papathanasio on vocals.

The artwork of the upcoming album is done by the well known Brazilian artist Gustavo Sazes. Spiritual Beggars guitarist Michael Amott states: “I’m extremely pleased with the Return to Zero cover! To me, it’s the quintessential Spiritual Beggars artwork. The artist really managed to capture the essence of our band, the new album and the constant flow of cryptic ideas I was throwing at him. As I’m old school, I can’t wait to see this in its full glory on the vinyl LP. But hey, it’ll look cool as a minuscule image on your iPod too.”

Tracklisting:
1. Return to Zero [Intro]
2. Lost in Yesterday
3. Star Born
4. The Chaos of Rebirth
5. We are Free
6. Spirit of the Wind
7. Coming Home
8. Concrete Horizon
9. A New Dawn Rising
10. Believe in Me
11. Dead Weight
12. The Road Less Travelled

Upcoming shows:
October 17th Loud Park 10 @ Saitama Super Arena, Saitama City (Japan)

If I’m a sucker for anything in this universe, it’s Swedish stoner rock. There’s plenty of great bands out there from the rest of the world, but for my money, the Swedes do it with a love and respect for the genre that — as a nation — no one else can match. You’re be hard pressed these days to even find a band in the US to admit they even play stoner rock, let alone actually do it.

As such, Stockholm‘s Death Rattle Six, who’ve just self-released their second album in two years (fourth overall) in the form of Death Rattle Six, are definitely on my radar. I haven’t heard the complete album, but the old-school four-piece (vocals, guitar, bass, drums) have posted four of the tracks on their MySpace page for checking out, and I’ve been gladly rocking out to the early Dozerisms of “Rover” and the Truckfighters-style fuzz of “Down the Hole.” Death Rattle Six claim an Alice in Chains influence, and I can hear it in the way singer Greg layers his voice on “The Beast Within,” but it’s not the rampant bottom of the mouth “Hey whoa yea-yuh” that’s infected so much of American commercial hard rock in the last two decades. More like a less laid back Asteroid.

If any of these words — Dozer, Truckfighters, Asteroid — are ringing a bell with you, you’d do well to look up “Torn Inside,” which makes use of a similar nighttime desertry. Death Rattle Six are, at least on these four tracks, playing desert rock exclusively, but if their genre sticktoitiveness is admirable, all the more so is the fact that the basic instrumental tracks for the Death Rattle Six album were done completely live. As in the most successful cases where that’s so, these songs have an urgency to them which simply can’t be faked.

They have links (again, on their MySpace) where you can buy Death Rattle Six on CDBaby or iTunes, but they also appear to be giving it away via internationally famed torrent site The Pirate Bay. Of course, The Obelisk urges you to support quality independent talent however you can. For me, that means keeping Death Rattle Six on the radar and looking forward to hearing the rest of the album.

A quick search on this site and you’ll see almost immediately that I’ve barely been able to even mention the word Sweden in the last, oh, seven or eight months, without accompanying it with the word Asteroid. Very quickly, the Örebro trio have become a touchstone to which I compare almost every act from their home country, fairly or unfairly — it certainly applies more to Blowback than Barren Earth — and because I’ve gone back to it for more repeat listens than anything else in 2010, their second album, II, is my number one pick for the first half of the year.

Even after reviewing the disc and interviewing bassist/vocalist Johannes Nilsson, I’m blown away by the natural feel of the record. If you take the time to listen to II, the songs begin to seep into your consciousness, and I think a big part of that comes from how well balanced the production is. Songs like “Edge” and “Time” might sound simple your first time through, but examine the depth of the arrangements, the vocal interplay between Nilsson and guitarist Robin Hirse, the personality behind the drumming of Elvis Campbell and the flowing but distinguishable jams that permeate the tracks, and you’ll hear an organic clarity that few bands can affect on a recording. Asteroid make it seem easy.

It’s a cliche among music fans: “I haven’t taken it out of my player since I got it.” Obviously that’s not true or there’d be a serious dearth of reviews around here, but safe to say that Asteroid‘s II has gone back in said player more times than anything else in 2010. After finally buying a full copy of the record and seeing the gorgeously intricate cut digipak packaging, my appreciation went even further. Every part of this album is uniquely Asteroid, from the music on.

What it all boils down to is that my enjoyment of II has only increased with the number of times I’ve heard it. It’s far from the highest profile release in terms of the promotional machine, but for me, it’s the richest, most satisfying listen I’ve come across this year, and since it came out in January, I’ve had plenty of time to get tired of it and it hasn’t happened yet. Had II not been my number one pick, this whole list would be a sham.

While to the untrained eye it might seem the story here is that Swedish stoner legends Spiritual Beggars have parted ways with vocalist JB (also of the increasingly mighty Grand Magus) and replaced him with Apollo IhaveasuperGreeksoundingnameopolis of Firewind — whose guitarist, Gus G., can currently be found in Ozzy‘s band — The Obelisk knows the actual news comes in the form of keyboardist Per Wiberg‘s moustache/goatee combo, which has gone to plaid in terms of ’50s beat excellence. Check out the lineup picture:

Per is far left, in case the radiating awesomeness of his ‘stache didn’t reveal itself immediately to you. Even guitarist Michael Amott (second from left) can’t help but grin at it, and though Apollo (middle) seems clueless about it, drummer Ludwig Witt (far right) looks terrified of its prowess. It’s true, you don’t cross a moustache like that. Sharlee D’Angelo (second from right) has already tasted its wrath and is none too happy about it. You better believe that moustache is getting a solo when Spiritual Beggars finally put out their new album later this year.

Amott made a statement on the band’s MySpace page about Apollo joining. Curiously, Per‘s moustache wasn’t mentioned. To wit:

Michael Amott comments: “This will be a surprise to most of you, but it’s been mutually decided for some time now that JB would step down from his role as the singer in Spiritual Beggars to focus on his own band. We had a fantastic time working with JB. We remain great friends and we wish him the best of luck!

“We decided to make a new Spiritual Beggars record and to find a new voice — and we found a killer singer that lives in our hometown. Some of you will already be familiar with him as a singer in the Greek metal band Firewind.

“We’ve had a blast in the studio and it’s been highly satisfying on a creative level. We have already confirmed some shows in Japan later in the year and we are in the process of booking more concerts around the world. We are looking forward to getting the new music out to the fans and playing live again”

A short sample of new song featuring Apollo Papathanasio on vocals is available now at the Spiritual Beggars MySpace.

Spiritual Beggars 2010:
Michael Amott (Arch Enemy, Carcass): Guitars
Ludwig Witt (Firebird): Drums
Per Wiberg (Opeth): Keyboards
Sharlee D’Angelo (Arch Enemy, Mercyful Fate): Bass
Apollo Papathanasio (Firewind): Vocals

When I pulled up to the Championship Bar and Grill in Trenton, the street outside was taped off and cop cars had their lights flashing. The whole trip down, I had been feeling and saying, “There’s no way this show’s going to happen,” and that seemed to confirm it. But no. Someone got hit by a car, probably killed. The show must go on.

Trenton, for anyone who might not be aware, is the capital of my beloved New Jersey and an utter shithole. Not as bad as Camden, but probably on the level of Paterson, where corrupt officials have raped the budgets that might otherwise help these working class people not live in fear of gang violence or police violence or drugs or whatever else I wouldn’t know about because of my pampered northern existence. Not a nice place even to drive through in most neighborhoods. The kind of place whites send sociologists to study black people and Mexicans like they were tribes in the Amazon.

Good fun. On the bill with Swedish masters of death Entombed was a plethora of pay-to-play NJ hardcore bands. Way to go, whoever booked the show. Don’t actually put together a killer bill or anything so that people might show up and/or stick around. Jerks. I didn’t see any of the openers, got there just two beers before Entombed went on. There were maybe 35 people there.

Championship‘s changed the stage layout since last I was there, which was the smart move. Now, about four inches high, the stage resides in the corner of the room (much better than where it was), and as Entombed made ready to start up, guitarist Alex Hellid was having some trouble with equipment. He ran his guitar through four different heads into Emperor cabinets, so I’d imagine amp troubles happen not infrequently. He got it all sorted in good time though.

I was right up front. Now, when I say that, I mean it. Right. Fucking. There. L-G Petrov was about as far away from me last night as my computer monitor is now. Maybe two feet. This, however, is a boundary I respect. That’s a big two feet. The difference is between stage and audience. That’s not to be fucked with. We shook hands once or twice, headbanged together in a deathly metallic tradition, and all was well throughout their set, which was heavy as fuck and given, in no small part by the surroundings, a punk-ish feel that the band just ate up.

It’s been a while since I was at a show with any moshing, and there wasn’t much of it, but as Little Guy with Glasses decided he was gonna fuck shit up NJHC-style, I couldn’t help but be annoyed. South Jersey is a completely different animal from North Jersey. It’s the difference between New York and Philadelphia, essentially, and while I love Philly like I love no other city on this earth and would make a home there in a second if I could afford it, South Jersey has more than its fair share of human trainwrecks, some of whom listen to hardcore, and some of whom who stuck around for Entombed.

I took a swing at one big dude that went wide after being knocked over, grabbed the guy and wrestled around, getting a decent shot in his side as I did. Crowd gathered to split us up. Fucking hell. I don’t care if you mosh, but if I don’t want to be involved in it, leave me to my beer, my headbanging and the fucking show. Otherwise it’s rape. There. I said it. I was mosh-raped.

Dickheads aside (isn’t that life?), the set was fantastic. I’ll probably never have the chance again to catch Entombed in that kind of setting, in so small a venue, with so few people around, so up close and intense, that I was bound to come out on top either way. They played about a sampling of their catalog highlights — I don’t even know how long the set was, but I was out of there by midnight and I got there at 10PM — from “Left Hand Path” to “Chief Rebel Angel” and closing with “When in Sodom.” No encore, but a great time. I hope they got paid well, or, since it’s Jersey, at all.

Obviously I have no idea how Entombed felt about playing such a minuscule show after the Maryland Deathfest, whether they were into it or not — I would think it would be kind of a letdown, but who knows — but I certainly enjoyed it. Seeing them easily justified the total three-hours road time, and even with the douche-factor, it’s a definite win. Quite a way to kick off the summer.

Listening back to it now, I think what I enjoy most about Swedish atmospheric doomers Kongh‘s second album, Shadows of the Shapeless (review here) is the potential it shows. The album, released last year in Europe on Trust No One and given American issue via Seventh Rule Recordings at the beginning of April, isn’t an outrageous standout from the scores of post-metal that has come up in the last half-decade or so, but the trio of David Johansson (guitar/vocals), Oscar Ryden (bass) and Tomas Salonen (drums) are able to infuse the recording with individualistic glimpses of creativity to come, and on that level, it’s a very positive record.

That, however, is about the only level on which it is positive. Sonically, it oppresses, seems to hold you down at the shoulders. Even in its most atmospheric moments, it crushes with abandon and is the kind of heavy that brings to mind images of giant unmanned machinations in some factory building a Babel tower to rip open the heavens. Massive, in other words. Fucking massive.

After much delay on my part (most but not all of it completely my fault), I finally got my crap together enough to fire off some questions to Johansson for an email interview. Of course, what I wanted chiefly to ask him was, “Your album sounds big,” but that’s neither a question nor a basis for discovering anything about Kongh‘s processes, so I did my best to avoid it and only failed a little bit.

Following the jump, the guitarist/vocalist fields queries about writing, recording, Shadows of the Shapeless‘ suitably bleak artwork, how the band came to play the Kuma’s Fest in Chicago and subsequently got hooked up with Seventh Rule, and whether or not more US touring is in the cards. Please enjoy.

Read more »

As the follow-up EP to their Below the Thunders of the Upper Deep debut Relapse full-length, Culted’s four-track excursion Of Death and Ritual is nothing if not aptly named. In the three originals – the closer is a cover of Swans’ “Whore” – the word “dead” or some variation thereof makes no fewer than 11 appearances. Interestingly, “ritual” only shows up once. I wonder if that’s why they ordered them thusly in the title. Otherwise, Of Ritual and Death would have worked just as well.

Much like they did on the full-length, on Of Death and Ritual Culted dwell in the bleak, dreary realms of blackened doom, like Khanate with a noise fetish. With the instrumental portion of the band located in Winnipeg, Canada, and vocalist Daniel Jansson in Gothenburg, Sweden, you might think there’d be some discrepancy or lack of cohesion in the execution of the material, but really it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference. I don’t think “Spirituosa,” “Black Cough, Black Coffin” and “Dissent” would be any better off had Jansson been in the room while guitarists/bassists Michael Klassen and Matthew Friesen and percussionist Kevin Stevenson were developing the instrumental basis for the songs and adding sundry noises and percussions. The trio, who also operate as the black metal band Of Human Bondage, seem to have a pretty good handle on what they’re doing, and I doubt the files had to do much back and forth before the songs were finished.

Read more »

Well, it’s got a fluffy white dog lost in the woods, fog that comes and goes, and a band playing in a room without any mics. Yup, it’s a metal video. At least the window-less space in which Swedish epic power doomers Grand Magus seem trapped is well (and expensively) lit, and there’s a tarp on the floor in case anyone makes a mess. Heavy metal is so silly, but Grand Magus do kick ass, and the song in this clip — the title track to their new album, Hammer of the North (no, I don’t know who’s releasing it in the States; time to step up, Metal Blade) — is as killer as you might expect:

I’ve beaten a hasty retreat to Connecticut for the night in the hope that a quick rest-cure by the sea will be just the thing to help me vanquish once and for all a cold that’s had me down for more than a week now. Yes, more travel. That’s the answer. I’ll do that.

Rest assured, I won’t be here too long, though, what with the Kings Destroy/The Nolan Gate/Choirs of Titan show The Obelisk is presenting tomorrow night in Hoboken at 123 Harrison St. (see flyer below). It’s gonna be a killer time, and if you want to look for me, I’ll be the bearded dude with long hair probably spouting off at too loud a volume about how the rest of the city of Hoboken can kiss his ass. Good times, people!

If you’re not in the area, I hope you enjoy whatever it is you’re doing, and if you are in the area, I hope to see you there. Either way, enjoy the weekend. Here’s that flier:

We first met with Blowback on their split with fellow Swedish up and comers Asteroid, then dived headfirst into their self-released Morning Wood LP. Now the Örebro four-piece follow-up with a new full-length, 800 Miles, on Transubstans Records. Considering the musical climate in their native country, the success of acts like Graveyard and Witchcraft, it’s not all that surprising they’ve gone for a more “vintage” sound this time through, but what Blowback has also managed to maintain is a modern sense of catchiness and production that manages to bring out the sweetness of tone without sacrificing volume or clarity.

And, in hindsight, neither their contributions to the Asteroid split or Morning Wood felt particularly locked in sound-wise. The debut was decent. It didn’t hurt anyone, and the overall vibe was chill, rife with fuzz and charming on a simplistic kind of level. Tracks like “No Soul” on 800 Miles show a nearly titular distance from that kind of material, but also demonstrate a growth the band has undergone that makes this change feel more natural. It’s not a question of whether it was on purpose (of course it was), or whether Blowback’s next album will have the same retro aesthetic, but of how well do they do with the style within which they’ve chosen to work.

The answer to that question is they do quite well with it. The modern approach to a classic sound suits Blowback, and Seb’s guitars sound thicker than anything you might have actually heard come out in 1971, Stefan’s vocals bring a little soul to the proceedings and the rhythm section of Chris and Henke (bass and drums, respectively) are rarely understated and a big part of what makes songs like “Butterfly” have the drive they do. Henke’s tom work on “Crossroad” pushes that later track into highlight territory, as he deftly keeps pace with the guitar and Stefan’s singing while making it sound easy and natural as only the best drummers can.

Read more »

12:05AM: City Hotel, Tilburg, The Netherlands: You know, before the day started (and by day, I mean the show, which started at 4PM), I didn’t think it was too ambitious a plan to review all of the Afterburner special post-Roadburn event in one sitting. “Nah, I can handle it,” I said with confidence that only my first shots of caffeine since last Wednesday could have given me. “No problem.”

Well, the thing is that Afterburner, while not quite as intense to witness as Roadburn itself because it only runs on two, not four, stages at the 013, is still a great deal of show. Even in this allegedly more laid-back setting of just the Green Room and the Bat Cave, I found myself unable to see absolutely everything, leaving me once again to pick my battles. This is not a complaint. I want to make that perfectly clear. It’s like trying to choose what to see at the Met in New York. Pretty much whatever direction you head in, you’re gonna see some cool shit, but to do it all in one day can’t be done.

In other words, bear with me. This could be a while.

Jex Thoth opened in the Green Room at 4PM. For a nifty comparison, I’ll put their opening slot today in contrast with Death Row‘s yesterday in the main hall. You know those Windows 7 commercials where they take the already exceptionally good-looking people and they all start talking about how they thought of Windows 7, and then it cuts to a dream sequence of even more cartoonish exceptionally good-looking people? That’s like the jump from Death Row, who already ruled, to Jex Thoth, who were good at what they were doing, but a little silly at the same time.

It’s no real puzzle why the San Francisco five-piece got such a huge response from the crowd (which Death Row could have used some more of yesterday afternoon). Be-caped lead singer Jessica Thoth being some kind of ritualistic cult doom sex symbol certainly doesn’t hurt. Yeah guys, she’s the cute redhead who’s into Pentagram and plays with candles and incense on stage while wearing a cape and singing about serpents and flame vigils. Have fun living in the woods together after your pagan wedding, raising naked children of the forest.

Because that’s supposed to be the fantasy, right? I don’t know. I didn’t get into the set. The music was cool, I guess, but nothing really mind-boggling, and I just have a hard time taking that kind of band seriously. You know, if you were a fat bald dude hitting those same notes, playing with incense and wearing a cape, you wouldn’t be playing Roadburn. You’d be playing Dungeons & Dragons. No, Advanced Dungeons & Dragons. In your mother’s basement. Where you live. Oh, and you’re 47.

I think I’ve made my point. Looks matter. Even in doom, being the proverbial hot girl is helpful.

When they were done, Orange Sunshine‘s late-’60s obsessed garage psychedelic rock was a refreshing change of pace and a nod to the stoner rock purist set, who surely appreciated the lack of posturing. I know I did. I had to chuckle though at how much one of their riffs reminded me of Blue Cheer‘s version of “The Hunter,” but I’d soon learn just how honestly they come by it, since after an extended heavy jam on The Rolling Stones‘ “Gimme Shelter,” drummer/vocalist/Euro-Chong lookalike Guy Tavares shouted out their set to the memory of Dickie Peterson, then they closed with “Summertime Blues” and “Rock Me Baby,” in that order. There’s a word for that, and that word is “charm.”

And I’ll pause here for a quick side note. Nachtmystium played this fest. Where else in the world are you going to have the opportunity to see Nachtmystium and Orange Sunshine in the same building? These kinds of things only exist at Roadburn.

Church of Misery continued their assault on common decency with their set, playing mostly the same stuff as Friday when they were on the main stage, but killing nonetheless for the smaller capacity venue that is the Green Room. Hell, I’m relatively certain Walter could have had Church of Misery play the same songs every four days in a different room and people would have migrated from one stage to the other to see them again. It’s not a chance that comes up every day, and watching guitarist Tom Sutton do his stoner rock softshoe while vocalist Yoshiakki Negishi pretends to shoot people in the crowd — well shucks, my eyes get all misty just thinking about it.

Having seen them three times now over the last two years (all Roadburn performances), I can say they haven’t yet put out a studio record that captures just how heavy they actually are in a live setting. Houses of the Unholy came close, but the sheer volume they wield might be too powerful for modern recording technology. In this way, they are truly ahead of their time. As for their riffs, I think we all know they fall under the heading, “born too late,” which is just fine.

It was almost cruel to have to witness them do it, but Sweden‘s Graveyard followed in a sonic twist that came on like a big break between Church of Misery and Eyehategod. No complaints, it’s just not really my thing at this point. But hey, if you like skinny Swedish dudes with expensive equipment, vintage t-shirts and tight flannels, ’70s mustaches and hair looking like something off an Allman Brothers album cover, playing the rock and roll their dads probably listened to, then have I got a band for you.

To be fair, they were incredibly tight across the board, and the Green Room was so crowded that for most of the set, the only vantage point I had was through the doorway. It’s like there was a sign outside saying, “Must Be this Cool to Enter” with a line drawn under some guy with bellbottoms’ ‘stache as a measure. I’m nowhere near that cool, so I got some falafel and waited for Eyehategod. Things could have been worse.

I never fail to be surprised that I’m not the world’s biggest Eyehategod fan. According to my records, I own all of theirs (which isn’t saying much since they haven’t put out a full-length in a decade), but if you were to ask me to name six Eyehategod songs, I don’t think I could do it. Well, maybe six, but probably not 10. And I’ve dug it every time I’ve seen them, tonight included. They were fucking great, but in terms of what I listen to on a given afternoon, I’ll rarely reach for Eyehategod while sitting on the porch and sipping a beer.

A fun note; when bassist Gary Mader broke a string, vocalist Mike Williams, guitarist Brian Patton and drummer Joe LaCaze did a quick couple songs under the moniker of their “side-project,” Fuckmouth, and I managed to catch it on video, which you can see below.

Williams was good and fucked up tonight. When he came out on stage, I said to myself, “This looks like a guy who’s going to fall over at some point during his set,” and sure enough — toward the end, to his credit — he went backwards into LaCaze‘s drums. Where was Jimmy Bower in all this? Over up front on stage right, mostly in the dark, playing to the crowd. Kicking ass like he will.

Eyehategod was a good note to end Roadburn on. A slow, rung out, feedbacked note that seemed to last even after the amps were shut off. But being the greedy son of a bitch I am, I wanted to see what Dutch locals The Machine were doing in the Bat Cave, so I meandered in the middle of Eyehategod‘s set into the other room, only to find the young trio jamming out heavy Colour Haze style with vocalist/guitarist David Eering throwing in some “Stone Free” and not sounding like a complete jackass while doing it, which is nothing short of an astonishing feat for so junior and so caucasian a player.

Jamming is apparently their thing, but they do it well, and have two records out already with a third written and are looking for a label. I can’t imagine one of the sundry European heavy rock labels wouldn’t be interested given the opportunity. I know I would.

But alas, I only caught their last two songs — both jams — and they were done, so I went back to the Green Room to close out the night and the fest with Eyehategod. They slammed their way through an astonishing amount of material, and I’m pretty sure I heard Williams at one point start singing Pantera‘s “I’m Broken,” though it could have just been a coincidence of cadence. In any case, good times, and when it was done, I split out on the quick (no afterparties for my unfriendly ass) and came back here to write about it, stopping only for some pommes frites along the way.

This review is long enough, so I’ll save any grand reflections on Roadburn for another time under the consideration that even the most interested of Obelisk attendees has failed to make it this far (I don’t take it personally). My plan for tomorrow is to get up, be out of here by 11AM checkout and head — where else? — to Schiphol airport in Amsterdam to see when and if I can reschedule my flight. The Patient Mrs. says it might not be until next weekend, but I need to go in-person anyway since British Airways‘ sundry hotlines and website have proven useless in this volcanic clusterfuck. I expect to spend a good deal of time waiting on line only to find out nothing, but these are the things we have to do, aren’t they? That’s a small price to pay for the weekend I just had.

And I’ll tell you something else: If I am stuck in Europe for another week, you bet your ass I’m getting my francophile self to Paris tout de suite. I’m pretty sure I’d be the first displaced American ever to do that. Ever. In the history of the world. Ever.

Until then…