Posted in Bootleg Theater on September 29th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
It is difficult, especially now that they’re not a band anymore and won’t likely be again (though one never knows), to speak about Orange Sunshine in terms other than the superlative. Oh they’re the most fraaked out buncha freaks who ever freaked their way onto an 8-track recording machine! They’re the biggest garage psych cosmic blown-mind mushroom rock secret ever kept by Den Haag! Although I guess at least the latter is demonstrably true.
Nonetheless, 2007’s Bullseye of Being — which is not to be confused with 2006’s Ruler of the Universe — absolutely is the same thing. Five songs, four of them covers and one an older demo. Kind of a hodge-podge where a third full-length proper might have been. But it’s Orange Sunshine, whose acid-drenched take on early-heavy rock was groundbreaking in itself, and so even if it is four covers, it’s a ripper. And I’m willing to bet you weren’t just listening to Terry Brooks & Strange‘s “Ruler of the Universe” anyhow, and even if you were, Orange Sunshine push the 11-minute original into a 15-minute jamadelic opening track that even as a cover demonstrates clearly how ahead of their time Orange Sunshine were in how they took it on.
Again, four of the five tracks are covers on the 37-minute Bullseye of Being — which I guess is what Leaf Hound Records decided to call it for the 2007 release; the band streams it as the later title, so that’s how I’m writing about it — and the first of them is a 15-minute take on an 11-minute obscurity from 1973? With sitar and tabla? Well of course it is. “Demonise” is a play on Deep Purple‘s “Demon’s Eye” from 1971’s Fireball that ups the swing to a delightfully over the top degree that’s all raw fuzzy blues strut in the guitar of Arthur Van Berkel with the vocals of drummer Guy Tavares cutting through set to his own march, bassist Thomas Van Slooten underscoring the bopping groove on which the song is based and within which the entirety of Orange Sunshine feels ready to reside at least on a time-share basis, if not permanently.
There is one copy of Orange Sunshine‘s 2001 self-titled four-song CD-R demo for sale on Discogs, and it’s about $70 after shipping. “Demonise” and the Cream cover “Sunshine of Your Love” appear on there as well as on Bullseye of Being, but I’m not sure if it’s the same versions or not, as the band has said that these tracks were put together at the same time as their 2001 debut, Homo Erectus (review here), so it’s possible they were sitting around, ready to be included with “Ruler of the Universe” and the subsequent “Speed,” first by Ron Wray Light Show. The original version of that track, from 1970, is a two-minute lysergic wahfuzz blaster that only doesn’t realize how stoned it is because it’s also on acid, and, well, Orange Sunshine add about another 40 seconds to that ethic to make the song three minutes, like Monster Magnet screwing around with Hawkwind tracks — making it their own and retaining loyalty to the original as part of that.
“Sunshine of Your Love” is one of those generation-defining hooks — you just know it whether you own a Cream record or not — and so the challenge there is for Orange Sunshine to basically do the same thing they did with “Speed” and pull it off with a song that’s going to be almost universally previously known to their audience. As the centerpiece, it has familiar ‘brump’ in its chugging chorus riff, but doesn’t sound exactly like Cream or like it wants to. Orange Sunshine often walked the line between psychedelia and garage rock, and they could freely draw from either in a way that gives them flexibility with the source material that others might not have. That is to say, Orange Sunshine was a pretty casual kind of band. You never know somebody until you’re in the rehearsal space with them — and I never was — but they always seemed like fairly laid back cats, even if they clearly knew what they were about as a band.
Inevitably, “Ruler of the Universe” is a lot of the draw on Bullseye of Being, and well it should be. It is expansive and encompassing, a triumphant head-jam that’s not only the opener and longest track (immediate points) but that effectively puts the listener in the hypnotic state the band wants just so they can turn around and deliver the slap of “Speed” that follows. Especially for being ostensibly a covers collection, the entire affair drips with personality, and that’s not at all limited to the scorch of lead guitar and feedback burning around the riff of “Balls Knocking.” The curious lone original — if it is — is a classic heavy blues rocker that mashes two channels of dirty-toned soloing together only to emerge clean in the second verse after like what might’ve inspired Radio Moscow ever to get the blues in the first place. It was reportedly also an older recording than its 2006/2007 release would indicate, and it closes here, but I honestly don’t know where it comes from. All I know is that its tones are covered in hair and by the time it’s halfway done it feels like it’s melted the sky.
But if you can vibe with stretches of LSD-drenched noise and heavy vibes pulled right out of 1968, but like, an alternate 1968 where 1968 already happened, Orange Sunshine are already on that astral plane and they already have the volume all the way up, which you probably know because you can feel it in your capillaries. This wasn’t the last Orange Sunshine studio output, but it was pretty close to it. Motorwolf, and the accompanying recording concern that puts Tavares at the helm, still ostensibly operates, and Tavares is currently in Mercury Boys and a few others, as Van Berkel passed away in 2018. Orange Sunshine‘s last release to-date was the 2014 live album, Live at Freak Valley 2013 (review here). The story I will tell about them forever is that when I saw them at Roadburn 2010, they covered Blue Cheer three times. It was one of the most honest and ballsiest things I’ve ever seen happen on any stage anywhere.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
—
I’m changing meds. It has not been a clean process. It’s been a pain in the ass. I have a new hole in the wall. I was alone when I put it there.
School is hard. We had a meeting with The Pecan’s kindergarten crew. Behavioral plans, etc. It’s just hard. I think that’s how it’s gonna be. Like, forever.
The dog is good.
We’re having brunch on Sunday, you should come.
Next week is Quarterly Review. I’m telling you, but really I’m telling The Patient Mrs., whom I’ve not been brave enough to inform in-person yet. She’s right next to me on the couch as I write this. 50 records. Solid week.
That’s about the long and short of what I’ve got. It’s raining today. I’m looking forward to picking The Pecan up at school and hopefully not needing to leave the house again after that.
Whatever you’re up to this weekend, have fun, be safe. Make sure you implement your behavior action plan in ways that are clear, measurable and malleable, and don’t forget to hydrate. See you back here on Monday for the Quarterly Review and more.
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 25th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Believe me, I understand that Europe is not exactly lacking in instrumental psych bands. Free-range and free-jazz trios roam in the wilds Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, the UK even, Italy, Scandinavia, on and on. We know this. What I’m saying is that Nijmegen’s Bismut are on something of a different trip. Yeah, when you read about it, you’re going to hear ‘instrumental psych’ and think, “okay, this is one of those post-Earthless or maybe post-Colour Haze jam bands” and know what you’re getting. And by the way, if that was what Bismut were doing, fine. I love that shit.
But Bismut are more progressive in their sound on their third LP behind 2020’s Retrocausality (review here) and their 2018 debut, Schwerpunkt (review here). I can hear Tool and Karma to Burn both in opening track “Mendalir” and the subsequent “Faun” backs that up with surprisingly earthy riffing. However much Bismut‘s beginnings may have been in improv, these are composed pieces. There’s genuine crunch in the tone on “Despotisme” and the closer “Euphoria,” and “Masta” spaces out a bit, but as much as a band without vocals could, Bismut sound like they’re trying to capture an audience. A live crowd. And these songs sound like they were written for the stage, which they may well have been.
So yeah, I’ve heard it and it’s not worth pretending otherwise. I’m currently slated to stream [title redacted] on Oct. 18 ahead of its Oct. 20 release (don’t tell the internet, but the day between is my birthday). Mark your calendars for that. It feels far in the future with September between here and there, but it’ll come eventually.
The PR wire sent words. I made theM blue and put them here because it is important to see the narrative an artist/band/anybody is telling you about their own work:
BISMUT – NEW LP – RELEASE DATE 20th OCTOBER 2023
Hailing from the city of Nijmegen in the Netherlands, Bismut is a dynamic heavy psych trio that has been carving their unique path since forming in 2016. Drawing influences from an eclectic blend of genres including progressive rock, doom, metal, stoner, heavy psych, and classic hard rock, their music is an intense and mesmerizing fusion that transcends traditional boundaries. Their distinctive sound has earned them a dedicated fanbase, and their performances on stages across Europe have solidified their reputation as a force to be reckoned with.
New album [title redacted] marks the triumphant return of the band, following the success of their sold-out (on vinyl) previous releases, Schwerpunkt in 2018, and Retrocausality in 2020, released via Lay Bare Recordings. This album promises to be a sonic journey that delves even deeper into the band’s diverse influences while pushing their sound to new heights. From thunderous, doom-laden riffs to mind-bending psychedelic explorations, the album seamlessly weaves together a tapestry of textures that will resonate with long-time fans and newcomers alike.
[Title redacted] is a joint effort between the band’s current Dutch label Lay Bare Recordings and the Spanish label Spinda Records. This collaboration brings together a diverse range of expertise, amplifying the album’s potential for international recognition and success. The partnership aims to introduce the band’s electrifying sound to a wider global audience, leveraging the strengths of both labels in their respective regions.
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 24th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Hey, I like good news. That’s part of the reason you see so many album announcements around here. Most of life is nasty, brutish, short, really really hard and/or affected in some detrimental way by climate change, so if you can put yourself into a position of looking forward to something, how is that not worth it? Dutch imprint Lay Bare Recordings in celebrating its 10th anniversary has new preorders up for Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers, and that’s kind of cool on the thing-coming-up tip, and there’s a sale and a new Rrrags coming, but the point here is really to celebrate the passing of a decade since Désirée Hanssen founded the label in 2013.
Not an easy decade for a record label to survive, and that’s before you get to the two-plus plague years worked into it. In a crowded, one might argue saturated, market, a label has to be flexible, to promote all the time, to always be working on the next thing, and to try to capture fickle attentions of a listenership while still keeping one’s passion in check and releasing something you love. I don’t envy the task, and I wake up at four o’clock every morning to write about riffs. Take that little bit of context and sit with it a while.
Heartfelt congratulations to Hanssen on the milestone, and here’s hoping for many more to come. 52 releases in 10 years is an accomplishment.
From the PR wire:
Celebrating a Decade of Sonic Power: Independent Dutch Record Label Lay Bare Recordings Marks 10 Years and 52 Album Releases
In a world dominated by digital streams and fleeting trends, independent Dutch record label Lay Bare Recordings stands as a steadfast champion of authentic music experiences. As they proudly celebrate their 10th anniversary, the label has achieved an impressive milestone of 52 album releases, showcasing an unwavering commitment to musical diversity and quality.
Founded in 2013, Lay Bare Recordings has carved a distinctive niche in the music industry by focusing on the artistry of vinyl releases across a vast spectrum of genres from the rock and metal world, from the low and slow to the hard and heavy, Lay Bare Recordings has solidified its reputation as a champion of diversity and musical excellence.
Over the past decade, the label has curated a collection that transcends mere sonic creations. Each album, meticulously crafted and pressed on high-quality vinyl, becomes a tangible embodiment of the artists’ vision. The label recognizes the significance of preserving the analog warmth and intimate connection that only vinyl can offer, and they have consistently upheld this tradition throughout their journey.
” Today, 10 years later and working on the 52nd release, I still feel truly humbled to continue releasing such great music from bands all over the world. This can only happen by the support of you, the music aficionados, music fans from everywhere.” says Désirée Hanssen, the founder of Lay Bare Recordings.
The label’s 52 album releases span an impressive range of genres, showcasing the label’s dedication to promoting artistic diversity. With each release, Lay Bare Recordings has not only celebrated the musicians’ creativity but has also offered music enthusiasts a chance to experience music as a multisensory journey, combining stunning album artwork, meticulously designed packaging, and the tactile pleasure of spinning vinyl.
To commemorate their 10th anniversary in style, Lay Bare Recordings have launched a “Killer Classics Sale” that promises to enthrall music enthusiasts. With discounted prices on select vinyl releases. In addition to the Killer Classics Sale, Lay Bare Recordings is excited to offer exclusive pre-orders for upcoming releases. This unique opportunity allows fans to secure their copies of eagerly anticipated albums before they hit the shelves.
KILLER CLASSICS SALE IS ON!
TREASURES FROM THE VAULT & RELICS FROM THE PAST
Killer classics for €15, €10, or less! A celebration offer especially for vinyl lovers for a limited time. Hurry up the stock is limited!
As the party goes on Lay Bare is thrilled to launch the pre-orders for Mojo & the Kitchen Brothers – Flaming Tiger Lizard EP and debut full length Mojo’s Heavy Cream.
“Mojo & the Kitchen Brothers is a 5-headed omnium gatherum of eclectically inspired music freaks from Belgium cooking up a late 60’s early 70’s mix of heavy progrock soaked in psychedelia. Catchy tunes, proggy riffs, deafening drums, roaring basslines and spacy, triple-guitar jams take you on a journey through the limbo between past and present.”
Dive into the captivating world of sound crafted by this dynamic Belgian group, and seize the opportunity to pre-order their albums ‘Flaming Tiger Lizard EP’ and ‘Mojo’s Heavy Cream’ individually or as an attractively priced bundle.
As the label looks toward the next decade, their unwavering dedication to the soulful spirit of music remains their guiding principle. The label’s commitment to nurturing artistic innovation and fostering a genuine connection between musicians and listeners continues to drive their endeavors, ensuring that the timeless allure of vinyl will thrive for generations to come.
For more information about Lay Bare Recordings and their 10th-anniversary celebrations, please visit their official website atwww.laybarerecordings.com
Watch this space for news about the upcoming releases from Sister May, RRRags, Bismut, Modder, Ghorot & Severant.
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 27th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Amsterdam glam-informed classic-heavy semi-punk other-hyphenated-words rockers Splinter have signed to Noisolution and announced that their second full-length, Role Models, will be out next month. You might recall their debut, Filthy Pleasures (review here), came out in 2021 through Robotor Records, the label run by members of Kadavar. That endorsement was a boon to the uptempo purveyors of hook fronted by Douwe Truijens, best known for his time in Death Alley.
The band issued the single “Velvet Scam” in a new video a couple months back, and if you didn’t catch it, that’s below along with an unboxing video — those are strangely entertaining; it’s amazing what humans will watch; ‘here’s a person opening a thing’ — for the record itself. A release show has been lined up for Sept. 1 in Leiden, the Netherlands, at Studio Klaplong, and of course more info on that is below, culled from the band’s socials and included amid the promo text for the record, which came through the PR wire.
Dig that cover:
Splinter – “Role Models” Out 25th August via Noisolution
Cheeky and snotty, the Dutch fourpiece dances between the styles. And sort themselves between punk, rock, pop and they give the guitars back to the dancefloor. A contemporary and fresh retro rock album that is danceable and catchy through and through – but most of all fun!
BIRTH OF JOY and DEATH ALLEY, two of the best Dutch live bands, played one last tour together and fell apart. How close “birth” and “death” are sometimes, is also shown here. After the tour, parts of both bands found each other again in the rehearsal room and formed SPLINTER. The debut album was released via Robotor Record, the label of Kadavar, who then found too little time besides their own band activities and thankfully recommended the band to Noisolution. We did not have to think long…
The album will be released on August 25th via NOISOLUTION!
RELEASE SHOW: Friday 1 September in a very special venue in Leiden with special guests The sha-la-lee’s and Skallebieter. Tickets are strictly limited: only 120 available. Order yours right away via https://lastnightonearth.stager.nl/web/tickets
SPLINTER question everything musically and throw their preferences and influences together. Danceable, sleazy, full of pop and yet a feisty heavy rock album. Much reminds of the late 80s, when rock flew apart disoriented but full of ideas in all directions. Punk was over, wave was over, metal was coming up, alternative rock was knocking on the door… SPLINTER have a bit of everything. “Heavy rock ‘n’ roll” is pretty accurate. Sometimes I also refer to the punk foundations of the band, because it’s cheeky, defiant and unorthodox” says singer Douwe Truijens.
The biggest difference to the debut album is that they were able to get Mario Goossens (drummer of Triggerfinger) as producer for the new record and that they took a lot of time to write and record. “Unique is the punk sound with Hammond organ and the energy and dance moves of the singer,” Douwe says with a smile, “for me it’s very important that the songs are catchy and danceable. I always like bands that have that. It doesn’t have to be mellow music to be poppy, it can still rock hard and make your hips swing.”
Songs like “Velvet Scam” or “Bottom” let the disco ball rotate, whereas “Every Circus needs A Clown” rather leaves room for duels between guitar and organ. Cheeky, defiant and unorthodox they dance between the styles. And sorts itself between Blondie and Iggy, Viagra Boys and The Who, Hanoi Rocks and Killing Joke. A contemporary and fresh retro rock album that is danceable, that grooves, rocks but above all is fun and announces a fantastic live band!
And the artwork is also a clear nod to Pop, reminiscent of Warhol or Lichtenstein, who liked to pick up trivial motifs from everyday culture. The Banana Man shows what today’s role models of the world are: “just fruits in suits.” Political leaders and so-called influencers are “role models,” smartly dressed but empty and disposable. Everything plastic, everything fake, image instead of message and appearance instead of content. Superficially colorful, but still with depth and message.
Welcome back to the Summer 2023 Quarterly Review. I hope you enjoyed the weekend. Today we dig in on the penultimate — somehow my using the word “penultimate” became a running gag for me in Quarterly Reviews; I don’t know how or why, but I think it’s funny — round of 10 albums and tomorrow we’ll close out as we hit the total of 70. Could easily have kept it going through the week, but so it goes. I’ll have more QR in September or October, I’m not sure yet which. It’s a pretty busy Fall.
Today’s a wild mix and that’s what I was hoping for. Let’s go.
Quarterly Review #51-60:
Weite, Assemblage
Founded by bassist Ingwer Boysen (also High Fighter) as an offshoot of the live incarnation of Delving, of which he’s part, Weite release the instrumental Assemblage as a semi-improv-sounding collection of marked progressive fluidity. With Delving and Elder‘s Nick DiSalvo and Mike Risberg in the lineup along with Ben Lubin (Lawns), the story goes that the four-piece got to the studio with nothing/very little, spent a few days writing and recording with the venerable Richard Behrens helming, and Assemblage‘s four component pieces are what came out of it. The album begins with the nine-minutes-each pair of the zazzy-jazzy mover “Neuland,” while “Entzündet” grows somewhat more open, a lead guitar refrain like built around drum-backed drone and keys, swelling in piano-inclusive volume like Crippled Black Phoenix, darker prog shifting into a wash and more freaked-out psych rock. I’m not sure those are real drums on “Rope,” or if they are I’d love to know how the snare was treated, but the song’s a groover just the same, and the 14-minute “Murmuration” is where the styles unite under an umbrella of warm tonality and low key but somehow cordial atmosphere. If these guys want to get together every couple years into perpetuity and bang out a record like this, that’d be fine.
The fourth album from Portland, Oregon’s Mizmor — the solo-project of multi-instrumentalist, songwriter, producer, vocalist, etc.-ist A.L.N. — arrives riding a tsunami of hype and delivers on the band’s long-stated promise of ‘wholly doomed black metal.’ With consuming distortion at its heart from opener/longest track (immediate points) “Only an Expanse” onward, the record recalls the promise of American black metal as looser in its to-tenet conformity than the bulk of Europe’s adherents — of course these are generalizations and I’m no expert — by contrasting it rhythmically with doom, which instead of fully releasing the tension amassed by the scream-topped tremolo riffing just makes it sound more miserable. Doom! “No Place to Arrive” is admirably thick, like noisy YOB on charred ambience, and “Anything But” draws those two sides together in more concise and driving style, vicious and brutal until it cuts in the last minute to quiet minimalism that makes the slam-in crush of 13-minute closer “Acceptance” all the more punishing, with plenty of time left for trades between all-out thrust and grueling plod. Hard to call which side wins the day — and that’s to Mizmor‘s credit, ultimately — but by the end of “Acceptance,” the raging gnash has collapsed into a caldera of harsh sludge, and it no longer matters. In context, that’s a success.
With a couple quick drum taps and a clearheaded strum that invokes the impossible nostalgia of Bruce Springsteen via ’90s alt rock, Netherlands-based The Whims of the Great Magnet strolls casually into “Same New,” the project’s first outing since 2021’s Share My Sun EP. Working in a post-grunge style seems to suit Sander Haagmans, formerly the bassist of Sungrazer and, for a bit, The Machine, as he single-track/double-tracks through the song’s initial verse and blossoms melodically in the chorus, dwelling in an atmosphere sun-coated enough that Haagmans‘ calls it “your new summer soundtrack.” Not arguing, if a one-track soundtrack is a little short. After a second verse/chorus trade, some acoustic weaves in at the end to underscore the laid back feel, and as it moves into the last minute, “Same New” brings back the hook not to drive it into your head — it’s catchy enough that such things aren’t necessary — but to speak to a traditional structure born out of classic rock. It does this organically, with moderate tempo and a warm, engaging spirit that, indeed, evokes the ideal images of the stated season and will no doubt prove comforting even removed from such long, hot and sunny days.
German instrumentalists Sarkh follow their 2020 full-length, Kaskade, with the four-song/31-minute Helios EP, issued through Worst Bassist Records. As with that album, the short-ish offering has a current of progressive metal to coincide with its heavier post-rock affect; “Zyklon” leading off with due charge before the title-track finds stretches of Yawning Man-esque drift, particularly as it builds toward a hard-hitting crescendo in its second half. Chiaroscuro, then. Working shortest to longest in runtime, the procession continues with “Kanagawa” making stark volume trades, growing ferocious but not uncontrolled in its louder moments, the late low end particularly satisfying as it plays off the guitar in the final push, a sudden stop giving 11-minute closer “Cape Wrath” due space to flesh out its middle-ground hypothesis after some initial intensity, the trio of guitarist Ralph Brachtendorf, bassist Falko Schneider and drummer Johannes Dose rearing back to let the EP end with a wash but dropping the payoff with about a minute left to let the guitar finish on its own. Germany, the world, and the universe: none of it is short on instrumental heavy bands, but the purposeful aesthetic mash of Sarkh‘s sound is distinguishing and Helios showcases it well to make the argument.
A 2LP second long-player from mostly-traditionalist doom metallers Spiritual Void, Wayfare seems immediately geared toward surpassing their 2017 debut, White Mountain, in opening with “Beyond the White Mountain.” With a stretch of harsher vocals to go along with the cleaner-sung verses through its 8:48 and the metal-of-eld wail that meets the crescendo before the nodding final verse, they might’ve done it. The subsequent “Die Alone” (11:48) recalls Candlemass and Death without losing the nod of its rhythm, and “Old” (12:33) reaffirms the position, taking Hellhound Records-style methodologies of European trad doom and pulling them across longer-form structures. Following “Dungeon of Nerthus” (10:24) the shorter “Wandering Doom” (5:31) chugs with a swing that feels schooled by Reverend Bizarre, while “Wandersmann” (13:11) tolls a mournful bell at its outset as though to let you know that the warm-up is over and now it’s time to really doom out. So be it. At a little over an hour long, Wayfare is no minor undertaking, but for what they’re doing stylistically, it shouldn’t be. Morose without melodrama, Wayfare sees Spiritual Void continuing to find their niche in doom, and rest assured, it’s on the doomier end. Of doom.
Even when The River make the trade of tossing out the aural weight of doom — the heavy guitar and bass, the expansive largesse, and so on — they keep the underlying structure. The nod. At least mostly. To explain: the long-running UK four-piece — vocalist Jenny Newton, guitarist Christian Leitch (formerly of 40 Watt Sun), bassist Stephen Morrissey and drummer Jason Ludwig — offer a folkish interpretation of doom and a doomed folk on their fourth long-player, the five-song/40-minute A Hollow Full of Hope taking the acoustic prioritizing of a song like “Open” from 2019’s Vessels into White Tides (review here) and bringing it to the stylistic fore on songs like the graceful opener “Fading,” the lightly electric “Tiny Ticking Clocks” rife with strings and gorgeous self-harmonizing from Newton set to an utterly doomed march, or the four-minute instrumental closer “Hollowful,” which is more than an outro if not a completely built song in relation to the preceding pieces. Melodic, flowing, intentional in arrangement, meter, melody. Sad. Beautiful. “Exits” (9:56) and “A Vignette” (10:26) — also the two longest cuts, though not by a ton — are where one finds that heft and the other side of the doom-folk/folk-doom divide, though it is admirable how thin they make that line. Marked progression. This album will take them past their 25th anniversary, and they greet it hitting a stride. That’s an occasion worth celebrating.
Sons of Froglord is the fourth full-length in three years from UK amphibian conceptualist storytellers Froglord, and there’s just about no way they’re not making fun of space rock on “Road Raisin.” “Collapse” grows burly in its hook in the vein of a more rumbling Clutch — and oh, the shenanigans abound! — and there’s a kind of ever-present undercurrent sludgy threat in the more forward push of the glorious anthem to the inanity of career life in “Wednesday” (it doesn’t materialize, but there is a tambourine on “A Swamp of My Own,” so that’s something), but the bulk of the latest chapter in the Froglord tale delivers ’70s-by-way-of-’10s classic heavy blues rock, distinct in its willingness to go elsewhere from and around the boogie swing of “Wizard Gonk” and the fuzzy shuffling foundation of “Garden” at the outset and pull from different eras and subsets of heavy to serve their purposes. “Froglady” is on that beat. On it. And the way “A Swamp of My Own” opens to its chorus is a stirring reminder of the difference drumming can make in elevating a band. After a quick “Closing Ceremony,” they tack on a presumably-not-narrative-related-but-fitting-anyway cover of Creedence Clearwater Revival‘s “Born on the Bayou,” which complements a crash-laced highlight like “The Sage” well and seems to say a bit about where Froglord are coming from as well, i.e., the swamp.
Released digitally with the backing of Abraxas and on CD through Smolder Brains Records, the Cult of Devil Sounds split EP offers two new tracks each from São Paulo, Brazil’s Weedevil and Veraruz, Mexico’s Electric Cult. The former take the A side and fade in on the guitar line “Darkness Inside” with due drama, gradually unfurling the seven-minute doom roller that’s ostensibly working around Electric Wizard-style riffing, but has its own persona in tone, atmosphere and the vocals of Maureen McGee, who makes her first appearance here with the band. The swagger of “Burn It” follows, somewhat speedier and sharper in delivery, with a scorcher solo in its back half, witchy proclamations and satisfying slowdown at the end. Weedevil. All boxes ticked, no question. Check. Electric Cult are rawer in production and revel in that, bringing “Rising From Hell” and “Esoteric Madness” with a more uptempo, rock-ish swing, but moving through sludge and doom by the time the seven minutes of the first of those is done. “Rising From Hell” finishes with ambient guitar, then feedback, which “Esoteric Madness” cuts off to begin with bass; a clever turn. Quickly “Esoteric Madness” grows dark from its outset, pushing into harsh vocals over a slogging march that turns harder-driving with ’70s-via-Church–of–Misery hard-boogie rounding out. That faster finish is a contrast to Weedevil‘s ending slow, and complements it accordingly. An enticing sampler from both.
When I read some article about how the James Webb Space Telescope has looked billions of years into the past chasing down ancient light and seen further toward the creation of the universe than humankind ever before has, I look at some video or other, I should be hearing Dr. Space. I don’t know if the Portugal-based solo artist, synthesist, bandleader, Renaissance man Scott “Dr. Space” Heller (also Øresund Space Collective, Black Moon Circle, etc.) has been in touch with the European Space Agency (ESA) or what their response has been, but even with its organ solo and stated watery purpose, amid sundry pulsations it’s safe to assume the 20-minute title-track “Suite for Orchestra of Marine Mammals” is happening with an orchestra of semi-robot aliens on, indeed, some impossibly distant exoplanet. Heller has long dwelt at the heart of psychedelic improv and the three pieces across the 39 minutes of Suite for Orchestra of Marine Mammals recall classic krautrock ambience while remaining purposefully exploratory. “Going for the Nun” pairs church organ with keyboard before shimmering into proto-techno blips and bloops recalling the Space Age that should’ve had humans on Mars by now, while the relatively brief capper “No Space for Time” — perhaps titled to note the limitations of the vinyl format — still finds room in its six minutes to work in two stages, with introductory chimes shifting toward more kosmiche synth travels yet farther out.
The debut from Santa Fe-based solo drone project Ruiner — aka Zac Hogan, also of Dysphotic, ex-Drought — is admirable in its commitment to itself. Hogan unveils the outfit with The Book of Patience (on Desert Records), an 80-minute, mostly-single-note piece called “Liber Patientiae,” which if you’re up on your Latin, you know is the title of the album as well. With a willfully glacial pace that could just as easily be a parody of the style — there is definitely an element of ‘is this for real?’ in the listening process, but yeah, it seems to be — “Liber Patientiae” evolves over its time, growing noisier as it approaches 55 or so minutes, the distortion growing more fervent over the better part of the final 25, the linear trajectory underscoring the idea that there’s a plan at work all along coinciding with the experimental nature of the work. What that plan might manifest from here is secondary to the “Liber Patientiae” as a meditative experience. On headphones, alone, it becomes an inward journey. In a crowded room, at least at the outset it’s almost a melodic white noise, maybe a little tense, but stretched out and changing but somehow still solid and singular, making the adage that ‘what you put into it is what you get out’ especially true in this case. And as it’s a giant wall of noise, it goes without saying that not everybody will be up for getting on board, but it’s difficult to imagine the opaque nature of the work is news to Hogan, who clearly is searching for resonance on his own wavelength.
Welcome to day two of the Summer 2023 Quarterly Review. Yesterday was a genuine hoot — I didn’t realize I had packed it so full of bands’ debut albums, and not repeating myself in noting that in the reviews was a challenge — but blah blah words words later we’re back at it today for round two of seven total.
As I write this, my house is newly emerged from an early morning tornado warning and sundry severe weather alerts, flooding, wind, etc., with that. In my weather head-canon, tornados don’t happen here — because they never used to — but one hit like two towns over a week or so ago, so I guess anything’s possible. My greater concern would be flooding or downed trees or branches damaging the house. I laughed with The Patient Mrs. that of course a tornado would come right after we did the kitchen floor and put the sink back.
We got The Pecan up to experience and be normalized into this brave new world of climate horror. We didn’t go to the basement, but it probably won’t be the last time we talk about whether or not we need to do so. Yes, planet Earth will take care of itself. It will do this by removing the problematic infection over a sustained period of time. Only trouble is humans are the infection.
So anyway, happy Tuesday. Let’s talk about some records.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Bell Witch, Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate
Cumbersome in its title and duly stately as it unfurls 83 minutes of Billy Anderson-recorded slow-motion death-doom soul destroy/rebuild, Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate is not the first longform single-song work from Seattle’s Bell Witch, but the core duo of drummer/vocalist Jesse Shreibman and bassist/vocalist Dylan Desmond found their path on 2017’s landmark Mirror Reaper (review here) and have set themselves to the work of expanding on that already encompassing scope. Moving from its organ intro through willfully lurching, chant-topped initial verses, the piece breaks circa 24 minutes to minimalist near-silence, building itself back up until it seems to blossom fully at around 45 minutes in, but it breaks to organ, rises again, and ultimately seems to not so much to collapse as to be let go into its last eight minutes of melancholy standalone bass. Knowing this is only the first part of a trilogy makes Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate feel even huger and more opaque, but while its unrelenting atmospheric bleakness will be listenable for a small percentage of the general populace, there’s no question Bell Witch are continuing to push the limits of what they do. Loud or quiet, they are consuming. One should expect no less in the next installment.
Some records are self-titled because the band can’t think of a name. Plainride‘s Plainride is more declarative. Self-released ahead of a Ripple Music issue to accord with timing as the German trio did a Spring support stint with Corrosion of Conformity, the 10-song outing engages with funk, blues rock, metal, prog and on and on and on, and feels specifically geared toward waking up any and all who hear it. The horns blasting in “Fire in the Sky” are a clear signal of that, though one should also allow for the mellowing of “Wanderer,” the interlude “You Wanna…” the acoustic noodler “Siebengebirge,” or the ballady closer “The Lilies” as a corresponding display of dynamic. But the energy is there in “Hello, Operator,” “Ritual” — which reminds of Gozu in its soulful vocals — and through the longer “Shepherd” and the subsequent regrounding in the penultimate “Hour of the Mûmakil,” and it is that kick-in-the-pants sensibility that most defines Plainride as a realization on the part of the band. They sound driven, hungry, expansive and professional, and they greet their audience with a full-on “welcome to the show” mindset, then proceed to try to shake loose the rules of genre from within. Not a minor ambition, but Plainride succeed in letting craft lead the charge in their battle against mediocrity. They don’t universally hit their marks — not that rock and roll ever did or necessarily should — but they take actual chances here and are all the more invigorating for that.
Massachusetts doomers Benthic Realm offer their awaited first full-length with Vessel, and the hour-long 2LP is broad and crushing enough to justify the wait. It’s been five years since 2018’s We Will Not Bow (review here), and the three-piece of bassist Maureen Murphy (ex-Second Grave, ex-Curse the Son, etc.), guitarist/vocalist Krista Van Guilder (ex-Second Grave, ex-Warhorse) and drummer Dan Blomquist (also Conclave) conjure worthy expanse with a metallic foundation, Van Guilder likewise effective in a deathly scream and melodic delivery as “Traitors Among Us” quickly affirms, and the band shifting smoothly between the lurch of “Summon the Tide” and speedier processions like “Course Correct,” the title-track or the penultimate “What Lies Beneath,” the album ultimately more defined by mood and the epic nature of Benthic Realm‘s craft than a showcase of tempo on either side. That is, regardless of pace, they deliver with force throughout the album, and while it might be a couple years delayed, it stands readily among the best debuts of 2023.
Cervus follow 2022’s impressive single “Cycles” (posted here) with the three-song EP Shifting Sands, and the Amsterdam heavy psych unit use the occasion to continue to build a range around their mellow-grooving foundation. Beginning quiet and languid and exploratory on “Nirvana Dunes,” which bursts to voluminous life after its midpoint but retains its fluidity, the five-piece of guitarists Jan Woudenberg and Dennis de Bruin, bassist Tom Mourik, keyboardist/guitarist Ton van Rijswijk and drummer Rogier Henkelman saving extra push for middle cut “Tempest,” reminding some of how The Machine are able to turn from heavy jams to more structured riffy shove. That track, shorter at 3:43, is a delightful bit of raucousness that answers the more straightforward fare on 2021’s Ignis EP while setting up a direct transition into “Eternal Shadow,” which builds walls of organ-laced fuzz roll that go out and don’t come back, ending the 16-minute outing in such a way as to make it feel more like a mini-album. They touch no ground here that feels uncertain for them, but that’s only a positive sign as they perhaps work toward making their debut LP. Whether that’s coming or not, Shifting Sands is no less engaging a mini-trip for its brevity.
On their third album, Where’s the Ground?, Portuguese experimentalists Unsafe Space Garden tackle heavy existentialist questions as only those truly willing to embrace the absurd could hope to do. From the almost-Jackson 5 casual saunter of “Grown-Ups!” — and by the way, all titles are punctuated and stylized all-caps — to the willfully overwhelming prog-metal play of “Pum Pum Pum Pum Ta Ta” later on, Unsafe Space Garden find and frame emotional and psychological breakthroughs through the ridiculous misery of human existence while also managing to remind of what a band can truly accomplish when they’re willing to throw genre expectations out the window. With shades throughout of punk, prog, indie, sludge, pop new and old, post-rock, jazz, and on and on, they are admirably individual, and unwilling to be anything other than who they are stylistically at the risk of derailing their own work, which — again, admirably — they don’t. Switching between English and Portuguese lyrics, they challenge the audience to approach with an open mind and sympathy for one another since once we were all just kids picking our noses on the same ground. Where’s the ground now? I’m not 100 percent, but I think it might be everywhere if we’re ready to see it, to be on it. Supreme weirdo manifestation; a little manic in vibe, but not without hope.
Guitarist/vocalist Henning Schmerer reportedly self-recorded and mixed and played all instruments himself for Neon Burton‘s third full-length, Take a Ride. The band was a trio circa 2021’s Mighty Mondeo, and might still be one, but with programmed drums behind him, Schmerer digs in alone across these space-themed six songs/46 minutes. The material keeps the central duality of Neon Burton‘s work to-date in pairing airy heavy psychedelia with bouts of denser riffing, rougher-edged verses and choruses offsetting the entrancing jams, resulting in a sound that draws a line between the two but is able to move between them freely. “Mother Ship” starts the record quiet but grows across its seven minutes to Truckfighters-esque fuzzy swing, and “I Run,” which follows, unveils the harder-landing aspect of the band’s character. The transitions are unforced and feel like a natural dynamic in the material, but even the jammiest parts would have to be thought out beforehand to be recorded with just one person, so perhaps Take a Ride‘s most standout achievement — see also: tone, melody, groove — is in overcoming the solo nature of its making to sound as much like a full band as it does in the 10-minute “Orbit” or the crescendo of “Disconnect” that rumbles into the sample-topped ambient-plus-funky meander at the start of instrumental closer “Wormhole,” which dares a bit of proggier-leaning chug on the way to its thickened, nodding culmination.
Though pedigreed in a Maryland doom scene that deeply prides itself on traditionalism, Laurel, MD, trio Thousand Vision Mist mark out a progressive path forward with their second full-length, Depths of Oblivion, the eight songs/35 minutes of which seem to owe as much to avant metal as to doom and/or heavy rock. Opener “Sands of Time” imagines what might’ve been if Virus had been raised in the Chesapeake Watershed, while “Citadel of Green” relishes its organically ’70s-style groove with an intricacy of interpretation so as to let Thousand Vision Mist come across as respectful of the past but not hindered by it creatively. Comprised of guitarist/vocalist Danny Kenyon (ex-Life Beyond, Indestroy, etc.), bassist/backing vocalist Tony Comulada (War Injun, Outside Truth, etc.) and drummer Chris Sebastian (ex-Retribution), the band delves into the pastoral on “Love, the Destroyer” and the sunshine-till-the-fuzz-hits-then-still-awesome “Thunderbird Blue,” while “Battle for Yesterday” filters grunge nostalgia through their own complexity and capper “Reversal of Misfortune” moves from its initial riffiness — perhaps in conversation with “We Flew Too High” at the start of what would be side B — into sharper shred with an unshakable rhythmic foundation beneath. I didn’t know what to expect so long after 2018’s Journey to Ascension and the Loss of Tomorrow (review here), which was impressive, but there’s no level on which Thousand Vision Mist haven’t outdone themselves with Depths of Oblivion.
Founded and fronted by vocalist George Chamberlin (Ritual Earth), the named-for-a-Joy–Division-tune New Dawn Fades make their initial public offering with the three-songer Forever, which at 15 minutes long doesn’t come close to the title but makes its point well before it’s through all the same. In “True Till Death,” they update a vibe somewhere between C.O.C.‘s Blind and a less-Southern version of Nola-era Down, while “This Night Has Closed My Eyes” adds some Kyuss flair in Chamberlin‘s vocal and the concluding “New Moon” reinforces the argument with a four-minute parade of swing and chug, Sabbath-bred if not Sabbath-worshiping. If the band — whose lineup seems to have changed since this was recorded at least in the drums — are going to take on a full-length next, they’ll want to shake things up, maybe an interlude, etc., but as a short outing and even more as their first, they don’t necessarily need to shock with off-the-wall style. Instead, Forever portrays New Dawn Fades as having a clear grasp on what they want to do and the songwriting command to make it happen. Wherever they go from here, it’ll be worth keeping eyes and ears open.
According to the band, Aton Five‘s mostly-instrumental self-titled sophomore full-length was recorded between 2019 and 2022, and that three-year span would seem to have allowed for the Moscow-based four-piece to deep-dive into the five pieces that comprise it, so that the guitar and organ answering each other on “Danse Macabre” and the mathy angularity that underscores much of the second half of “Naked Void” exist as fully envisioned versions of themselves, even before you get to the 22-minute “Lethe,” which closes. With the soothing “Clepsydra” in its middle as the only track under eight minutes long, Aton Five have plenty of time to develop and build outward from the headspinning proffered by “Alienation” at the album’s start and in the bassy jabs and departure into and through clearheaded drift-metal (didn’t know it existed, but there it is), the work they’ve put into the material is obvious and no less multifaceted than are the songs, “Alienation” resolving in a combination of sweeps and sprints, each of which resonates with purpose. That one might say the same of each of the three parts that make up “Lethe” should signal the depth of consideration in the entirety of the release. I know there was a plague on, but maybe Aton Five benefitted as well from having the time to focus as they so plainly did. Whether you try to keep up with the turns or sit back and let the band go where they will, Aton Five, the album, feels like the kind of record that might’ve ended up somewhere other than where the band first thought it would, but is stronger for having made the journey to the finished product.
Giants Dwarfs and Black Holes, In a Sandbox Full of Suns
Their second LP behind 2020’s Everwill, the five-song In a Sandbox Full of Suns finds German four-piece Giants Dwarfs and Black Holes fully switched on in heavy jam fashion, cuts like “Love Story” and “In a Sandbox Full of Suns” — both of which top 11 minutes — fleshed out with improv-sounding guitar and vocals over ultra-fluid rhythms, blending classic heavy blues rock and prog with hints and only hints of vintage-ism and letting the variety in their approach show itself in the four-minute centerpiece “Dead Urban Desert” and the suitably cosmic atmosphere to which they depart in closer “Time and Space.” Leadoff “Coffee Style” is rife with attitude, but wahs itself into an Eastern-inflected lead progression after the midpoint and before turning back to the verse, holding its relaxed but not lazy feel all the while. It is a natural brand of psychedelia that results throughout — an enticing sound between sounds; the proverbial ‘not-lost wandering’ in musical form — as Giants Dwarfs and Black Holes don’t try to hypnotize with effects or synth, etc., but prove willing to take a walk into the unknown when the mood hits. It doesn’t always, but they make the most of their opportunities regardless, and if “Dead Urban Desert” is the exception, its placement as the centerpiece tells you it’s not there by accident.
Two bands, two sides, three jams. Kombynat Robotron and DUNDDW, from Germany and the Netherlands, respectively, offer their 37-minute/three-song split LP through Spinda Records (SP), Sunhair Music (DE), Echodelick Records (US) and Weird Beard Records (UK), and not to dwell so much on numbers, but yes, that is more record labels involved than there are songs on the release. As regards a title, I don’t know if it’s official, but the cover says Split LP, and that’s good enough as far as I’m concerned, and it’s fitting enough since, yes, that’s what it is, and being instrumental, both bands seem content enough to leave words at a minimum.
Kiel-based four-piece Kombynat Robotron — also stylized with Cyrillic letters: КОМВУИАТ ЯОВОТЯОИ — have been on a heavy psychedelic spree since their first outings (note the plural) in 2018, and they take side A with “Gamma” (7:34) and “Delta” (7:31), while side B goes to Nijmegen trio DUNDDW, with members of Bismut and Mt. Echo. The latter are closer to their origin point, having issued their first full-length in late-2022’s Flux (review here), but in addition to a shared aversion toward singers at least in the context of their own projects, the two acts share the improvisational ethic, and as DUNDDW unfold “VIII” (21:59) across side B, the unifying goal of Split LP is palpable as one of exploration.
There’s a bit of freakout here and there in “Gamma” and in the earlier going of “VIII,” DUNDDW‘s Peter Dragt just kind of starts to go nuts on drums and that energy becomes a build by itself until after the halfway point when they bring it back down, but serenity abounds otherwise; both bands foster an active forward reach amid miraculously unpretentious cosmic drift, harnessing the creativity of a fleeting moment and capturing it as it happened.
The tagline for the split is ‘100% improvised psych-kraut music from Germany and The Netherlands,’ and that may or may not be true — not sure why anyone would lie about that, but it’s happened before — the sounds fostered speak to the intention anyhow. I’m not arguing, in other words. Kombynat Robotron fade in on a cymbal wash for “Gamma,” but soon the guitar establishes the sunshiny central figure of the piece and they’re underway in a somewhat surprisingly song-ish manner. Mellow grunge in space? Post-whatever whatever?
Such interstellar krautrock pastoralia is set to a steady roller of a groove, and fluidity holds as they turn about a minute in — there must have been a head signal there or some such — to a more upbeat section. Guitarists James Ihnen and Richard Schröder, bassist Claas Ogorek and drummer Thomas Handschick are locked in from the outset, and whether they had some idea of what they wanted to do, or “Gamma” is cut out of a longer jam or what, the conversation happening between the members of the band, instrumentally speaking, is sharp. If they’re keeping it loose in any way, it’s conceptually, but there’s a linear build happening in “Gamma” that peaks just after six minutes in, and from there they noodle out on a long fade, and that hints at the very least toward a sense of direction rather than just showing up, plugging in and hitting it.
Not a complaint. Their “Delta” begins more subdued but has the same shimmer in the lower-mixed guitar and shifts after laying down that initial fuzzy breadth to a not-quite-motorik bit of push, fostering classic space rock vibes in its build en route to bringing that same lead guitar forward in the still-shimmying crescendo. They sound like they could keep going into perpetuity, but balance and the limitations of physical media require otherwise, so Kombynat Robotron fade to let DUNDDW start “VIII” with bass and drums.
Is it the eighth recording the band has done? Possible. On Flux, the three-piece featured the 22-minute “VI” and had two parts of the at-least-four-part “VII,” so “VIII” would be next in that succession, and it’s not unreasonable to think that guitarist Gerben Elburg, bassist Huibert der Weduwen and drummer Peter Dragt either recorded “VIII” then or are simply following the Karma to Burn example of numerical (if Roman numerals) ordering their songs. Ups and downs to that approach, as with anything, but most importantly, the chemistry that DUNDDW so readily displayed on Flux is to be found on the Split LP as well, whether it’s the proggy bassline and jazz-style business of the drumming or the way the guitar seems to inhabit a space of its own, weaving along with the rhythm as it grows more intense early on but keeping an overarching calmness via its tonality.
Dragt is on the toms by the time they’re four minutes in, and part of the journey becomes the bumps and jabs of the bass and the steady punctuation of the snare and the guitar moves closer to a wash as they approach the six-minute mark. It’s like you can hear them digging in. Elburg doesn’t miss the opportunity to freak out, and soon enough, Dragt is following suit on cymbals, resolving in a gallop that der Weduwen seems only too happy to complement. They draw it back down somewhat after seven minutes, but they’re nowhere near finished as they push farther and farther into improvised space ambience.
The hi-hat is still tense keeping time for a while after everything else calms and the guitar goes to sparse melodic hum — by then it’s the snare shuffling underneath — but the movement is never completely gone, so as they grow subtly more energetic, it’s easy to follow along. At 14:45, they begin in earnest the build back to full-volume, and the swirl, the push and the wash all come together in righteous cacophony for a crescendo before the inevitable denouement.
DUNDDW end on a fade, but “VIII” is basically done anyhow, with some studio noise underscoring the in-the-room-as-it-happened feel of the Split LP as a whole. I don’t know whose idea it was to put these two acts together, but cheers. That Kombynat Robotron and DUNDDW could have so much in common on paper and still be so distinct in their respective takes results in a split that emphasizes how identifiable each of their styles is. Their unity of purpose is enhanced, not contrasted, by their similarities as well as the differences between them.
Posted in Whathaveyou on June 27th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Netherlands-based dark-prog rockers Iron Jinn announced a while back that they’d be supporting and collaborating on stage with Alain Johannes in September, opening a trio of Dutch shows for the singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist (also producer!) known for his work in Eleven, Queens of the Stone Age, Them Crooked Vultures, and so on as part of the latter’s broader European tour. Not a minor gig for Iron Jinn, whose self-titled debut (review here) came out this past Spring through Stickman Records and who played the release show for it at this year’s Roadburn Festival in Tilburg, and my only real complaint with any part of their working with Johannes was I wasn’t going to be able to see it.
Well, in addition to posting the ticket links and the handy reminder below along with the update that they got together presumably to do a bit of prep and see whether the entire idea was going to work at all, Iron Jinn have announced that they and Johannes have together filmed a ‘2 Meter Sessions’ that will be unveiled sometime I guess in the coming months, so that those unable to actually catch them live can have a bit of the experience. If you’re not familiar — and it’s okay, I wasn’t either — the ‘2 Meter Sessions’ is a series that’s been going on for at least 30 years and their YouTube channel has an archive of 150-plus clips to lose your afternoon perusing. Hopefully this one streams as well.
Words from Iron Jinn follow, as per social media:
Stoked to have had Alain Johannes as a guest at the Iron Jinn HQ, a sweet week of jamming on his music, hanging out and playing the legendary 2 Meter Sessies together. Waiting for his return in September to play some exciting evenings at the clubs. Iron Jinn kicks off every night with a full set and this melts into Alain Johannes’ iconic musical legacy (solo/QOTSA/Eleven). Interchanging musicians, instruments and building on each others energy is gonna be the adage and living in the moment will be a necessity. Tickets on sale now at the venues!
because it’s also on acid, and, well, Orange Sunshine add about another 40 seconds to that ethic to make the song three minutes, like Monster Magnet screwing around with Hawkwind tracks — making it their own and retaining loyalty to the original as part of that.
