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.

Weite on Facebook

Stickman Records store

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Mizmor, Prosaic

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.

Mizmor on Facebook

Profound Lore Records store

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The Whims of the Great Magnet, Same New

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.

The Whims of the Great Magnet on Facebook

The Whims of the Great Magnet on Bandcamp

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Sarkh, Helios

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.

Sarkh on Facebook

Worst Bassist Records store

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Spiritual Void, Wayfare

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.

Spiritual Void on Facebook

Journey’s End Records store

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The River, A Hollow Full of Hope

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.

The River on Facebook

Cavernous Records store

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Froglord, Sons of Froglord

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.

Froglord on Facebook

Froglord on Bandcamp

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Weedevil & Electric Cult, Cult of Devil Sounds

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.

Weedevil on Facebook

Electric Cult on Facebook

Abraxas on Instagram

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Dr. Space, Suite for Orchestra of Marine Mammals

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.

Dr. Space on Facebook

Space Rock Productions website

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Ruiner, The Book of Patience

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.

Ruiner on Facebook

Desert Records store

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

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

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

Quarterly Review #41-50:

Motorpsycho, Yay!

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

Motorpsycho on Facebook

Stickman Records store

Det Nordenfjeldske Grammofonselskab site

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Severed Satellites, Aphelion

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

Severed Satellites on Facebook

Severed Satellites on Bandcamp

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Edena Gardens, Live Momentum

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

Edena Gardens on Facebook

El Paraiso Records store

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Delco Detention, Come and Get It!

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

Delco Detention on Facebook

Delco Detention on Bandcamp

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The Gray Goo, Circus Nightmare

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

The Gray Goo on Facebook

The Gray Goo on Bandcamp

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Shit Hexis, Shit Hexis

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

Shit Hexis on Facebook

Bleeding Heart Nihilist Productions website

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Oromet, Oromet

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

Oromet on Instagram

Transylvanian Recordings on Bandcamp

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Le Mur, Keep Your Fear Away From Me

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

Le Mur on Facebook

Aumega Project website

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

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

10-20 Project on Facebook

Echodelick Records store

Worst Bassist Records store

We Here & Now Recordings store

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Landing, Motionless I-VI

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

Landing on Facebook

Sulatron Records store

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What does it tell you about an album when five record labels get behind the release? Well, first it tells you that globalization was a farce that requires multiple DIY distributors to cover different territories around the planet because instead of actually helping smooth processes like releasing albums in multiple territories, it made the same five old white men who were already rich that much richer over the course of the last 30 years, but more immediately, it perhaps tells us that it’s time to start thinking of Volume‘s 2002 debut/only-LP Requesting Permission to Land (not the original cover below) as a lost classic, and maybe that it’s time to revisit that pre-social media era of heavy rock and roll in a similar fashion to how about 10 years back it seemed like every other week there was another lost classic from the heavy ’70s coming out on labels like Akarma and Rockadrome. Feels early, but I bet if you were there in the 1970s it felt early a decade ago too.

There are, of course, a near-infinite amount of treasures to be unearthed, because while I’d call the heavy underground well populated today and bolstered by the (semi-)democratization of recording gear/software and streaming, but whatever comes of it in the next few years, Volume‘s Requesting Permission to Land is easily worth the revisit, calling to mind nostalgia for the MySpace era when, say, one might’ve sent Patrick Brink a message requesting a copy of the record to play on one’s college radio stoner rock show. I’d say those were the days, but they weren’t really. I could go on off-topic, but you don’t care. If you want to talk and be friends in real life, hit me up. Also, don’t tell anybody that 2023 is actually the 21st anniversary of the album. Doesn’t matter. Pressing delays, timing, whatever. It exists and it’s coming out. That’s good enough for me.

The relevant info from the PR wire:

VOLUME To Release 20th Anniversary Edition of Requesting Permission To Land

Heavy fuzzed out psychedelic rock from the desert of Twentynine Palms, CA, is the offering from VOLUME. Formed in 1993, VOLUME are back following a hiatus to finish what they started and celebrate a career milestone. The 20th Anniversary edition vinyl pressing of Requesting Permission To Land will be released on October 27th.

“I’m super stoked that ‘Requesting Permission To Land’ will finally be out on vinyl like it was always supposed to be. Get ready to get cosmically freaked out!” – Patrick Brink

From the riff-fueled percussive-frenzy sound of the EP’s opener “Habit” to the rhythmic and progressive conclusion “Headswim”, Requesting Permission To Land is a thrilling collection of heavy acid rock tracks. The EP features a number of talented musicians with drums recorded by Scott Reeder (FU MANCHU), and bass played by James Scoggins (FINAL CONFLICT). If you like straight up fuzzed out psychedelic rock, sit back and let VOLUME spin your head!

About VOLUME:

Patrick Brink began VOLUME back in 1993 with the desire to have a project with which he could take the lead and steer the musical reins down psychedelic rocking routes. Having performed with a number of acts including doing vocals for FU MANCHU in their early days, VOLUME offered Patrick a new creative outlet. Over their career the band has shared stages with QUEENS OF THE STONE AGE, FU MANCHU, MASTADON and GOATSNAKE, and performed at festivals including Emmisions of the Monolith and Stoner Hands of Doom (SHoD). VOLUME draw musical influences from bands such as THE STOOGES, MC5 and BLACK FLAG to name a few, while also crafting their own distinctive heavy psychedelic identity.

Requesting Permission To Land will be released via Weird Beard (UK) We Here & Now (CA) Echodelick (US) Worst Bassist (EU) Ramble Records (AU)

Tracklisting:
1. Habit
2. Colossalfreak
3. Dont Look Around
4. Make Believe
5. Headswim

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Volume, Requesting Permission to Land (2002)

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: “Komet Lulu” Neudeck of Electric Moon & Worst Bassist Records

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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

I am doing artwork, music and have a little record label, so it’s all related to each other.

I define it as exploring the soul realms, life, the universe within and trying to make a living from this. I came to it naturally, it unfolded as my way with every step i did in this society, knowing from an early age, that I do not fit in the regular way.

Describe your first musical memory.

There are two from the same time. I was maybe 5 and my mom listened to CSNY in the car and I asked what this was and when the song “Deja Vu” ended, I asked her to play it again. It kept stuck in my head since then, this ethereal melody of the vocals…

The other memory was in the same age, my dad listened to a record of The Doors and “Riders on the Storm” began and I was like “Wow, what is going on there?”

These two moments feel like my gateway in consciously listening to music.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

This is a tough task, haha. There are so, so, so many.

But maybe it was my first Motorpsycho concert and they played “The Wheel” in full ecstasy, followed by “Vortex Surfer.” I wasn’t far from exploding emotionally back then…

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

At a young age, when my parents parted ways after a long period of arguments, it kind of broke my basic trust.

This was my firmly held belief, until I realised, that I was already collecting the pieces since then, all the time, and that I was building a new thing from these, full of cracks but beautiful and my own…

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Being on an artistic journey, to me, is like being a scientist of life. Constantly reflecting, realizing, questioning, appreciating, loving…

How do you define success?

To me, success is being kind of happy where you’re at.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

This is interesting, as soon, as I want to type my answer, my brain says, “Well, but on the other hand, seeing this, made you think about it.” – There are few situations I recall, seeing a pig getting killed directly in front of me, seeing my best friend getting beaten down by a stranger, seeing someone with a gun preparing to shoot, seeing someone die – but all of these situations made me reflect in the end. Interesting.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

Pottery! And a huge painting, mural or so. And a solo album.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Nurturing our souls and changing our perspective… Basically, making us encounter something.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

Finding home. :)

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Electric Moon, Inferno (2022 Remaster) [2011]

It’s a pretty clever play on the idea of an International Space Station. The ‘international’ part: four bands, each from a different country. ‘Space’: well yeah, everybody here gets decidedly cosmic, thank you kindly. ‘Station’: there’s enough of it to make either your own radio or land your starship on, however you choose to interpret the word. One likes to think it’s in an optimistic spirit that Worst Bassist Records brings together Nashville, Tennessee’s ElonMusk — who probably regret that moniker by now — Electric Moon from Germany, Swedish jammers Kungens Män and Norway’s Kanaan to pay conceptual homage on the International Space Station Vol. I four-way, all-instrumental, 88-minute split double-vinyl to the most genuine evidence of what humans can achieve when collaborating across their own pretend/tribal borders, reminding us that even as the international order teeters (war in Eastern Europe, pandemic, climate change, on and on) and such cooperation feels ever rarer, the possibility of a better way exists.

Each band gets a side, and uses it for one song. It is something of a surprise to find an American band included here at all — Europsych has a tendency toward insularity; it looks out for its own and in the past I’ve perceived a bit of nose-up as regards many US acts; obviously not the case this time — but ElonMusk not only get a quarter of the ‘station’ to themselves, they go first. Thus “Gods of the Swamp Planet” (22:02) unfurls its synth-laced mellow roll a headphone-ready expanse of tripped-out serenity. Floating guitars, floating synth, subtle flourish on the toms and cymbals (thinking of the ride at about nine minutes in), and it’s an outbound motion that builds from the initial drone of keyboards as the guitar, bass and drums arrive, set and launch the course, setting their own mood and that for the release as a whole. Just as “Gods of the Swamp Planet” seems to hit its comedown, at 13:28, a louder and more uptempo movement starts, still with the synth droning out behind, but the drums hit harder, the guitars soar higher, and a post-Earthless triumph rings out, if only or about two minutes. It feels live if it isn’t, in part because of the residual energy carried over as “Gods of the Swamp Planet” settles down again, but at 18:37, it turns back to its squibbly scorcher lead and more fervent nod, and rides that groove until residual drone carries it out.

Side flip. For pleasant surprises, Electric Moon‘s “Duality” (15:46) is the shortest inclusion, but offers a markedly uptempo take, immediately digging into the space rock purpose hinted at in the split’s title and apparent theme. The band recently shifted lineup, bidding farewell to Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt, and I’m not sure whether this is their first song without or their last with him — the lineup is now “Komet Lulu” Neudeck (who also runs Worst Bassist Records) on bass, Johannes “Joe Muff” Schaffer on guitar and Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching on drums — but the band’s long-established modus of immersive and cosmic instrumental heavy psych is given extra flash through a steady percussive tension and a swath of layered guitar effects, smoke trailing their way through the consciousness as “Duality” careens toward its midpoint. Shortly thereafter, a break to silence and a measure of transitional guitar leaves a blank slate from whence the guitar and keys begin to rebuild a post-rock pastoralia, a serene six-minute contemplation that’s a standout from Electric Moon‘s work to this point, if one that carries a familiar hypnosis forward to new ground. Perhaps that’s the band’s portrayal of cross-cultural fellowship. If so, it should rightly be considered a focus point for the release as a whole.

Record switch. The second platter finds prolific Stockholm collective Kungens Män already in motion by the time the needle hits the platter, bending space, time and their own strings as “Keeper of the One Key” (23:24) unfolds its they’re-already-gone-and-it’s-time-for-you-to-go-too interstellar languidity. Smoothly delivered as ever for the band — class explorers through and through — the guitar turns to an improvised sounding bounce and starts running scales at about nine minutes in, but the truth is if you’re not on board by then, Kungens Män have already left without you. But don’t worry, there’s time to catch up as they dig, dig, dig into the realms of hidden matter and unknowable energies, physics turning into so much lazy-eyed goo in their capable, moderating control. It’s not quite as drastic a second-half departure as that of Electric Moon before them, but “Keeper of the One Key” shifts into a more distorted lead tone after hitting the 20-minute mark and caps with a bit of chug to wash down all the prior noodling, its long fade capturing the moment when the jam probably came apart but still giving a sense of the various infinities surrounding Kungens Män as they elicit deeply entrancing calm out of chaos. It’s also telling that as International Space Station Vol. I plays out, the songs get longer.

On that note, one more side flip — and/or a format switch — to the digital-only-because-it-wouldn’t-fit-on-a-12″-anyway “Beyond” (27:43) from Kanaan, who follow 2021’s Earthbound (review here) and herald the upcoming Diversions Vol. I: Softly Through Sunshine with evocative-of-waves ribboning astral jazz. Never mind that with its runtime it’s an album unto itself, “Beyond” underscores both journey and arrival for this collection, gradually making its way into a slow wash of melody and breadth. Should there be any residual doubt the Oslo-based troupe are as we speak positioning themselves as one of the foremost purveyors of next-generation European heavy psychedelia — not an insignificant crowd from which to distinguish themselves — the apparent ease with which they drift into and through the piece’s midsection and out toward the encompassing and louder finish is marked by patience as well as vigor. The final element to go is a howling guitar — convenient aural analog for the outing as a whole — but by the time they’ve gotten there, Kanaan have asserted their emergent mastery over the expanding omniverse of their sound. “Beyond” reminds that time is a construct and the best thing you can do with your mind is expand it. If you want elevated consciousness, then you need to get on that elevator.

United in purpose and largely in mood, International Space Station Vol. I may be the start of a series, or like so many ‘vol. I’ outings, it may not. I won’t claim to know. For right now — such as it is with that whole “time is a construct” thing — the efforts on the part of Neudeck in bringing these acts together are not to be undervalued, and while splits and compilations are often the realm of tossoffs, leftover recordings, etc., this version of the ISS reminds of the incredible capacity human beings have when willing to set aside largely-imaginary differences of demographic and opinion in favor of unity. It wants nothing for substance, building structure from formlessness. Beautiful in ideology and execution.

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Day seven of a Quarterly Review is pretty rarefied air, by which I mean it doesn’t happen that often. And even with 100 records in the span of these two weeks, I’ll never ever ever ever claim to approach being comprehensive, but the point is take it as a sign of just how much is out there right now. If you find it overwhelming, me too.

But think about our wretched species. What’s our redeeming factor? Treatment resistant bacteria? War? Yelling for more war? Economic disparity? Abortion rights? Art. Art’s it. Art and nothing.

So at least there’s a lot of art.

Quarterly Review #61-70:

Trigona, Trigona

With independent label distribution in the UK, US, Australia and Europe, Trigona‘s Trigona is about as spread out geographically as sonically. The Queensland, AUS-based instrumental solo outfit of Rob Shiels — guitar, bass, synth, drum programming, effects, noise, etc. — released the Meridian tape earlier in 2022 on Echodelick and I’m honestly not sure if this six-song self-titled is supposed to count as a debut full-length or what, expanded as it is from Trigona‘s 2021 EP of the same name, albeit remastered with a new track sequence and the eight-minute “Via Egnatia” tagged onto the end of side B to mirror side A’s eight-minute finale, “Rosatom.” Sweet toned progressivism and semi-krautrock bass meditation pervades, debut or not, as Shiels touches on more terrestrial songwriting in “Monk” only after “Shita Ue” has offered its uptempo, almost poppy except not at all pop take on space rock outwardness, a mirror itself somewhat for album opener “Von Graf,” while second cut “Nudler” spreads proggy guitar figures over a sunshiny movement, letting “Rosatom” handle the wash-conjuring. There’s a slowdown at the finish of “Via Egnatia,” its effect lessened perhaps by the programmed drums, but Trigona‘s Trigona is so much more about atmosphere than heft it feels silly to even mention. Debut or not, it is striking.

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Worst Bassist Records on Bandcamp

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Blasting Rod, 月鏡 (Mirror Moon Ascending)

Hells yeah J-psych. Nagoya-based three-piece Blasting Rod — guitarist/vocalist S. Shah (also electronics), bassist/guitarist Yoshihiro Yasui and drummer Chihiro (everybody also adds percussion) — already have a follow-up LP, Of Wild Hazel, on the way/streaming for the two-songer Mirror Moon Ascending, and that and some of their past work has aligned them with US-based Glory or Death Records, but if you’re looking to be introduced to their world of sometimes serene, sometimes madcap psychedelia, these two mono mixes by Eternal Elysium‘s Yukito Okazaki, with the drift and languid crash, far-back drums of “Mirror Moon Ascending” and the shaker-inclusive insistence of “Wheel Upon the Car of Dragonaut,” which turns its title into a multi-layered mantra, can be a decent place to start as a springboard into the band’s and S. Shah‘s sundry other projects. Their experimentalism doesn’t stop them from writing songs, at least not this time around, and it seems to drive aspects of what they do like mixing in mono in the first place, so there’s meta-screwing with form as well as get-weird-stay-weird heavy space rock push. After this, check out 2021’s III and then the new one. After that, you’re on your own. Good luck and have fun.

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From Those Ashes, Contagion

From Those Ashes, a double-guitar four-piece from Chicago, present four songs in Contagion of thrash-derived but ultimately mostly mid-tempo metal, vocalist/guitarist Aaron Pokoj (also production) leading the charge with Jose “Mop” Valles ripping solos for good measure and bassist Ryan Compton and drummer Omar “Pockets” Mombela holding together tight grooves amid the deathlier moments of the title-track. Pokoj‘s trades between harsh and clean vocals show a firm grasp of melody and arrangement, and though their lyrical perspective is disaffected until basically the last two lines of EP-closer “Light Breaks,” the aggression doesn’t necessarily trump craft, though “The Reset Button” moves through throwing elder-hardcore elbows and the first words shouted on opener “Devoid of Thought” are “fuck it.” Fair enough. The Iron Maiden-style opening of “Light Breaks” is a standout moment, though guitar antics aren’t by any means in short supply, but when From Those Ashes build their way into the song proper, the death-thrash onslaught is fervent right up to the end. And those last lines? “As light breaks through the shadow and gives way to life/Sustained emergence of the soul and the will to survive?” Brutally, righteously growled.

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Hasishian, Hashishian

Rarely does music itself sound so stoned. Across six tracks of bassy, at least partially Dune-referential — the hand-drummed “Shai Hulud,” etc. — meditative heavy, the anonymous outfit Hashishian from somewhere, sometime, convey a languid, loosely Middle Eastern-informed, vibe-dense aural weedianism. And much to their credit, “Mountain of Smoke” seems to live up to its name. Less so, perhaps, “Let Us Reason,” which is drawn out in such a way that the moderation implied, maybe with desperation, is inhaled like so much pine-smelling vapor. “Shai Hulud” is the longest cut, mostly instrumental, and might be as far out as Hashishian go, but even the twisting feedback and lead notes at the beginning of closer “Nazareth” feel like a heavy-eyelidded march toward the riff-fill’d land, never mind the bass-led procession of the song itself, manifesting the ethic of opener “Onward” that seems to be the mentality of the 39-minute self-titled as a whole. It is molten in a way not much can claim to be, more patient than the most patient person you know, and seems to find way to make even the tolling bell of the penultimate “High Chief” a drone. Definitely post-Om in sound, Hashishian‘s Hashishian is a sprawl of sand waiting to engulf you. And to whoever is playing this bass, thank you.

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Herby Records on Bandcamp

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Above & Below, Suffer Decay Alone

Ohio-based industrialists Above & Below — primarily Plaguewielder‘s Bryce Seditz on vocals, guitar, synth, programming with Chrome Waves‘ Jeff Wilson adding bass, noise, production and a release through his Disorder Recordings imprint — make their debut with the seven tracks/27 minutes of Suffer Decay Alone, which digs into modern stylistic features like the weighted tonality of the guitar in “Isolate” and the screams on top, some The Downward Spiraling atmosphere given a boost in rhythm from the dense machine churn of Author & Punisher there and on the prior “Hope,” while “Rust” approaches danceable but for all that screaming. “Dead” sounds like something Gnaw might come up with, but the cold realization of craft in “Tear” feels like a signpost telling the project where it wants to head, and the same applies to the 3Teeth-style horror noise of “Covered.” I don’t know which impulse will win out, songwriting or destructive noise, and I’m not sure it needs to be one or the other, but Suffer Decay Alone sets out with a duly harsh mentality and sounds to match. If this is Rust Belt fuckall circa 2022, I’m on board.

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Disorder Recordings website

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Lord Elephant, Cosmic Awakening

Shades of Earthless‘ more meandering stretches pervade “Cosmic Awakening Pt. I – Forsaken Slumber,” the opener of Lord Elephant‘s Heavy Psych Sounds debut, Cosmic Awakening, and those are purposefully brushed away as “Cosmic Awakening Pt. II – First Radiation” brings on more straight-ahead instrumental shove. The Florence, Italy, trio issued the eight-track album independently in 2021 and their being on the label they are earns them a certain amount of trust before one even listens, but the vibe throughout the outing’s 43 minutes is a don’t-worry-we-know-what-we’re-doing blend of psychedelia and underlying tonal heft. Bass. Tone. Guitar. Tone. Drums. On point. There’s nothing overly fancy about it and there doesn’t need to be as “Raktabija” is a rush and a blast at once, “Covered in Earth’s Blood” crunches and builds and builds and crunches again and “Stellar Cloud” has enough low end to make you feel funny for staring. I wouldn’t put it past them to make friends with an organist at some point, but they’ve got everything they need for right now even without vocals, and the combination of weight and breadth is effectively conveyed from front to back, with closer “Secreteternal” executing a final slowdown until it just seems to come apart. Right on.

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Heavy Psych Sounds website

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Dirty Shades, Lift Off

French double-guitar four-piece Dirty Shades released their debut EP in March 2020, so yeah, there goes that. Lift Off is the four-song follow-up short release, tagged as a ‘live session,’ and given the organic vibe of the performances, I’m inclined to believe it. Vocalist/guitarist Anouk Degrande leads the way as “Dazed” picks up in winding style from the more ethereal opening across the two-minute “Ignition,” her voice reminding in places of No Doubt-era Gwen Stefani, albeit in a much different context. Fellow guitarist Nathan Mimeau provides backing for the chorus, ditto bassist Martin Degrande, and drummer Mathurin Robart is charged with keeping the patterns together behind the various turns in volume and intensity through “Dazed” and the subsequent “Running for Your Life,” which is full, spaced and surprisingly heavy by the time its five minutes are done but is still somehow more about the trip getting there. And a shorter take on now-closer “Trainwreck” appeared on 2020’s Specific Impulse, but its added dreaminess serves it well. Jazzy in spots and showing the band still seeking their stylistic niche, Lift Off may well prove to be the foundation from which the band launches.

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Venus Principle, Stand in Your Light

Best case scenario when a band revamps its lineup is that listeners get another killer band out of it. With that, bid hello to Venus Principle‘s debut album, Stand in Your Light. With vocalist/guitarist Daniel Änghede (also Astroqueen), pianist/vocalist Daisy Chapman, guitarist/keyboardist Jonas Stålhammar (also At the Gates), keyboardist/backing vocalist Mark Furnevall and drummer Ben Wilsker all having been in Crippled Black Phoenix — only bassist Pontus Blom would seem not to be an alumnus — this more recent project perhaps unsurprisingly digs into a deeply, richly melodic, expanded-definition-of-heavy post-rock. The songs across the 68-minute 2LP, which starts with its longest track (immediate points) in the 10:34 “Rebel Drones,” are afraid neither to be loud nor minimal, and standout moments like “Shut it Down” or the Mellotron into absolute-melody-wash of “Sanctuary” bear out that vibe as a reminder of the gorgeousness that can come from emotions normally thought negative. The promo text for this record says it, “provides balm for the wound that the split of ANATHEMA has caused,” and that’s a lofty claim from where I sit, but you know, it’s a start, and clearly a lineup capable of a certain kind of magic that they represent well here.

Venus Principle website

Prophecy Productions store

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Troy the Band, The Blissful Unknown

One doesn’t imagine it’s easy to be a new band in London at this point, with the seen-it-all-plus-we’re-all-in-like-10-bands-ourselves crowd and so many acts in and around the sphere of Desertfest, etc. — or maybe I’m way off and the community is amazing; I honestly don’t know — but Troy the Band distinguish themselves through the pendulum swing in their debut EP, The Blissful Unknown, guitars and bass both fuzzed to and beyond the gills and just a bit showy in “Michael” to give the outing a hint of strut despite its generally laid back attitude. Opener “I Wage a War” is the shortest inclusion by far on the 26-minute offering, and it’s a sprint compared to the more plodding, drone-hum-backed “Less Than Nothing,” and after “Michael” chugs and sways to its noisy finish, the title-track blows it all out to end off by underscoring the encouragingly atmospheric impression made by the songs prior, loose-sounding but not at all sloppy and occupying an expanse that comes across like it only wants to grow bigger. Here’s hoping it does exactly that. In the meantime, even in England’s green, pleasant and perpetually-full-of-riffs land, Troy the Band carve a fascinating place for themselves between various microgenres, psychedelic without being carried off by self-indulgence.

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Mount Desert, Fear the Heart

Oakland, California’s Mount Desert make an awaited full-length debut with Fear the Heart a full seven years after releasing their self-titled two-songer (review here), both cuts from which feature on the record. Hey, life happens. I get that. And if the tradeoff for not putting out two or three records in the interim is the airy float of guitar throughout and the subtle-then-not-so-subtle build in “Semper Virens,” I’ll take it. Who the hell needs more records when you can have one that speaks to your unconscious like that? In any case, Fear the Heart is striking in more than just its moments of culmination, “Blue Madonna” and “New Fire” at the outset casting a fluidity that “The River I” and “The River II” perhaps unsurprisingly further even as they find their own paths into the second half of the record. “The Wail” closes with nighttime howls only after “Fear the Heart” — one of the two from the first outing — and the aforementioned “Semper Virens” have their say in progressive guitar and weighted psychedelicraft, earthbound thanks to vocal soul and ‘them drums tho,’ and especially as a debut, and one apparently a while in the making, Mount Desert‘s first LP justifies all that hype from more than half a decade and 15 lifetimes ago. They’re a band with something to say aesthetically and in songwriting. I hope they continue to move forward.

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Mount Desert on Bandcamp

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Two separate updates here, one from Electric Moon and one from Sula Bassana, aka Dave Schmidt, himself. The first is the rather surprising news that Schmidt has left Electric Moon, which he’s been part of for more than a decade as a founding member, and the second — markedly less surprising, but welcome — is word of a new solo album by Schmidt under the Sula Bassana banner. Cool beans on that, but if you’d asked, I would’ve listed him as essential personnel along with “Komet Lulu” Neudeck as a founder of Electric Moon. One assumes that the band will continue under her guidance as spearhead all the more for being the lone remaining founder who’s been there the whole time.

Though, it’s worth noting that situations and music are both fluid and it looks like they’re leaving the door open to doing more in the future, so who knows. Never say never until everyone’s dead, then just say holograms. Maybe some day we’ll all be beams of light in the corporate metaverse. Until then, enjoy your vinyl.

Speaking of, here’s news about some:

Dear friends,

Since 2009, Electric Moon’s core were always Lulu and Dave (Sula), so we can imagine, that this announcement seems surreal to y’all.

It’s also surreal for all of us, but sometimes, life happens and makes certain decisions necessary.

Unfortunately, we have to announce, that Electric Moon will go on again as a trio from now on. Dave is leaving the band and so we’ll play all yet confirmed markedly less concerts already without Dave.

Sometimes ways part and new opportunities are given. Dave will go on with Zone Six, Interkosmos and of course solo, and certainly will always be a part of Electric Moon’s journey. Such a close bond cannot be cut and that’s also not intended.

Electric Moon will continue to exist as what it has always been: a formation to celebrate the love of sound and music, and build a symbiosis between audience and band.

Nonetheless, we are looking forward to meeting you at concerts and on and off the road.

Love and peace,
Lulu, Sula, Pablo, Joe

Sula Bassana – Nostalgia

Good news:

The mastering for my new solo album is done and I’m super satisfied and super excited and look forward to get the finished copies! sadly we must wait until later this year (maybe september, october?) for the release. it will contain 5 songs, 2 with vocals and again in a band-style, not so much electronic like my latest ones. the fantastic artwork is taken from a painting Hervé Scott Flament did and I’m so happy I can use it! thanks so much! mastering is done by Eroc! everything was recorded again only by myself (guitars, basses, drums, synthesizer, organ, electric sitar, mellotron, vocals…). recordings started in 2013 or so, some very old songs in the meantime. :) latest one started in 2017. but it needed the right feeling to finish them, but now all is done and I’m so relieved!

LP will come in gatefold cover with stunning art, 2 different vinylcolours (lim. to 500 on 2-colour corona vinyl and 500 on black, both 180 gr. vinyl), and on CD.

www.electricmoon.de
https://electric-moon.bandcamp.com/
www.facebook.com/ElectricMoonOfficial

https://sulabassana.bandcamp.com/
https://www.facebook.com/sulabassana
http://www.sulabassana.de/

https://fb.com/worstbassistrecords
https://worstbassistrecords.bandcamp.com/

www.sulatron.com

Sula Bassana, Loop Station Drones (2021)

Electric Moon, Phase (2021)

If you don’t have room in your heart for the psychedelic bliss of Electric Moon, I humbly submit you don’t have a heart at all. You might want to have a doctor check that out. For the rest of the hearted, the since-2009 German cosmic rockers founded by guitarist/effects-specialist/sometimes-keyboardist Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt and bassist/sometimes-vocalist/noisemaker/graphic-artist “Komet Lulu” Neudeck — both of whom now have their own record labels in Sulatron Records and Worst Bassist Records; these are industrious hippies — have been reaching for the galactic barrier via sound, and the 2LP collection Phase gathers a curated smattering of work from their first decade together.

Out through Neudeck‘s Worst Bassist imprint — for what it’s worth, I’ve seen Electric Moon live more than once and she more than holds her own on bass — in limited double-vinyl and double-CD editions, Phase checks in at about two hours long when the bonus tracks (for the CD or DL, the latter of which is included with the LP) are considered, and features no fewer than four different drummers, including Sula Bassana himself, the founding-and-current-returned Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching, the UK-based Michael “Bongolious Maximus” Orloff, and Marcus Schnitzler, now of The Spacelords.

These are not the only drummers Electric Moon has had — there was also Alexander Simon circa 2011-2012, and I’ll note here just to note somewhere that as of 2020, they’ve added a second guitarist in Johannes “Joe Muff” Schaffer — but obviously plenty nonetheless. If the band had so chosen, Phase probably could have been broken into different volumes, perhaps with some other tracks from splits or album releases added along with what serves as the bonus tracks here, and turned into at least four single-LP offerings, but there’s something to be said for the method Electric Moon employ in delivering these remastered pieces to their loyalist cult fanbase. When they do something, they go all-in.

So it has been throughout the 12-plus years since their coming together. Particularly in their extended cuts, they are a head-first dive into spaced and spacious heavy psychedelia, drawing on classic jams, psych and krautrock ideologies — it is not a coincidence that Phase opens with covers of Tangerine Dream‘s “Madrigal Meridian” and The Beatles‘ “Tomorrow Never Knows” — and the invitation they extend toward the listener to be immersed in wash and open stretches alike is singular even among mostly-instrumental, improv/spontaneity-based groups.

The chemistry between Schmidt and Neudeck and will to experiment, the sense of playfulness they bring to works like the 17-minute “D-Tune” that serves as the bulk of side C of Phase, aren’t to be understated. Rather, they are a ready blueprint that others have followed in their wake, and along with demonstrating the band’s ability to mold itself around the personalities of different players in and out as the memorable “The Loop” from 2017’s Stardust Rituals (review here) gives way to “Your Own Truth” from 2013’s You Can See the Sound Of… EP (reissue review here), Phase highlights their work in crafting material fluid in either long- or short-form modes.

By the time they get down to “Moon Love” from their debut album, Lunatics, which takes up the whole of side D at nearly 23 minutes, that particular point has been well made, but it’s also worth pointing out that Phase emphasizes the vocalized material from throughout the band’s tenure. Neudeck has rarely been a singer of the frontperson type, and the vocals in these remastered versions hold to that ethic. Vocals are atmospheric, sometimes spoken, usually coated in effects — part of the overarching experience of the song — yet her delivery of the verses in “Tomorrow Never Knows” in a kind of proto-New Wave declarative voice are righteous, and the same holds for “Stardust Service” when they get down to the bonus tracks.

In the context of the group’s discography, she is a somewhat reticent presence singing, but that human voice proves pivotal to the material here. As colorful as they make it, space is still huge and easy to get lost in. Sometimes a few lines are enough to remind the listener they’re still there. That function, of course, isn’t always what Electric Moon are going for, but it serves Phase well as regards the 13-minute “Spaceman” from 2011’s The Doomsday Machine (review here) and casts their work in a different (moon)light overall, serving as a clear purpose behind the collection’s existence in the first place.

Perhaps these are more phases than a singular phase, ultimately, since even the bonus tracks cover a span of years between The Doomsday Machine‘s “Stardust Service” (19:44) and “Stardust (The Picture)” (10:14) from Stardust Rituals, but one way or the other, Electric Moon bring together these songs, long or short, jammed or structured, adventurous or grounded, original or cover, in a spirit of celebration not only for what they’ve accomplished over their first 10 years, but a kind of rediscovery of the path they’ve walked.

As though, looking behind them at their footprints, they have some more sense of where they were headed on that decade of willful meander. As a fan of the band, which I am, my hearing of it is much the same, despite being aware of the fact that they could easily do a Next Phase 2LP follow-up that includes nothing but four extended, side-swallowing instrumental pieces and thereby tell a completely different story. That’s a part of who they are as a group, multi-faceted within the liquefied parameters stretching to one rounded corner or another of heavy psych, space and krautrock.

The simple truth is that if Phase makes you feel anything in listening, as it inevitably will, then on an artistic and expressive level, Electric Moon have already won, but the way they go about it, the underlying narrative being created about who Electric Moon are and what they do and can do in their music, is something distinct to this release. It makes Phase more than just a ‘best of’ — or what Neudeck might more likely call a ‘worst of’ if the pattern holds — and it enriches the story of Electric Moon as a project, which one hopes will only continue to be told.

Electric Moon, Phase (2021)

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