Posted in Features on December 2nd, 2024 by JJ Koczan
[PLEASE NOTE: This post will remain on top of the page until the poll ends in January. New posts follow underneath. Thanks.]
I have to admit to feeling somewhat clueless as to where this poll is headed. Some years it’s so blanket obvious that I feel silly even putting it up — though even then it’s fun, which is why I do anyhow — but there seem to be so many different directions this year’s poll could go between traditional styles in stoner, doom, etc., and the experimental, established acts and generational newcomers. There are more than a few acts I’m very curious about and have been for months now, and some records I feel like I’ve been sweating about all year that need more love. What’s it gonna be?
Rules and whatnot follow the form below:
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Thanks for reading and taking part. Please share the link if you can.
The rules don’t change, and like most of the post, they’re cut and pasted from last year: Anything from Jan. 2024 to whatever’s coming out between now and Dec. 31 is eligible. If something is out digitally now and physical later and you want to include it, do so. Two lists are tabulated; one of the raw votes, and one in which a 1-4 ranking is worth five points, 5-8 worth four, 9-12 worth three, 13-16 worth two and 17-20 worth one.
If you’re not sure what counts or what to include, remember this is for your enjoyment. Stress about your top 20 if you want — I know I’m stressing about mine — but remember that the point here is to enjoy the thing. Debate is great, passion is the driving force of everything, but let’s keep debate civil and don’t give yourself too hard a time either.
As ever, I extend deepest gratitude to you for participating and to Slevin, who put together this poll and every year fields the “hey it’s poll time” text from me with grace and kindness and generosity. Thank you.
Poll runs until Dec. 31, 2024. Barring disaster or if I decide to let it go a couple extra days, results will be out Thursday, Jan. 2, 2025, along with individual lists.
Posted in Reviews on December 12th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Day four of five for this snuck-in-before-the-end-of-the-year Quarterly Review, and I’m left wondering if maybe it won’t be worth booking another week for January or early February, and if that happens, is it still “quarterly” at that point if you do it like six times a year? ‘Bimonthly Quality Control Assessments’ coming soon! Alert your HR supervisors to tell your servers of any allergies.
No, not really.
I’ll figure out a way to sandwich more music into this site if it kills me. Which I guess it might. Whatever, let’s do this thing.
Quarterly Review #31-40
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Sergeant Thunderhoof, The Ghost of Badon Hill
A marked accomplishment in progressive heavy rock, The Ghost of Badon Hill is the fifth full-length from UK five-piece Sergeant Thunderhoof, who even without the element of surprise on their side — which is to say one is right to approach the 45-minute six-tracker with high expectations based on the band’s past work; their last LP was 2022’s This Sceptred Veil(review here) — rally around a folklore-born concept and deliver the to-date album of their career. From the first emergence of heft in “Badon” topped with Daniel Flitcroft soar-prone vocals, Sergeant Thunderhoof — guitarists Mark Sayer and Josh Gallop, bassist Jim Camp and drummer Darren Ashman, and the aforementioned Flitcroft — confidently execute their vision of a melodic riffprog scope. The songs have nuance and character, the narrative feels like it moves through the material, there are memorable hooks and grand atmospheric passages. It is by its very nature not without some indulgent aspects, but also a near-perfect incarnation of what one might ask it to be.
The stated objective of Swallow the Sun‘s Shining was for less misery, and fair enough as the Finnish death-doomers have been at it for about a quarter of a century now and that’s a long time to feel so resoundingly wretched, however relatably one does it. What does less-misery sound like? First of all, still kinda miserable. If you know Swallow the Sun, they are still definitely recognizable in pieces like “Innocence Was Long Forgotten,” “What I Have Become” and “MelancHoly,” but even the frontloading of these singles — don’t worry, from “Kold” and the ultra Type O Negative-style “November Dust” (get it?), to the combination of floating, dancing keyboard lines and drawn out guitars in the final reaches of the title-track, they’re not short on highlights — conveys the modernity brought into focus. Produced by Dan Lancaster (Bring Me the Horizon, A Day to Remember, Muse), the songs are in conversation with the current sphere of metal in a way that Swallow the Sun have never been, broadening the definition of what they do while retaining a focus on craft. They’re professionals.
Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships, The Mind Like Fire Unbound
Where’s the intermittently-crushing sci-fi-concept death-stoner, you ask? Well, friend, Lincoln, Nebraska’s Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships would like to have a word, and on The Mind Like Fire Unbound, there’s a non-zero chance that word will come in the form of layered death metal growls and rasping throatripper screams representing an insectoid species about to tear more-melodically-voiced human colonizers to pieces. The 45-minute LP’s 14-minute opener “BUGS” that lays out this warning is followed by the harsh, cosmic-paranoia conjuration of “Dark Forest” before a pivot in 8:42 centerpiece “Infinite Inertia” — and yes, the structure of the tracks is purposeful; longest at the open and close with shorter pieces on either side of “Infinite Inertia” — takes the emotive cast of Pallbearer to an extrapolated psychedelic metalgaze, huge and broad and lumbering. Of course the contrast is swift in the two-minute “I Hate Space,” but where one expects more bludgeonry, the shortest inclusion stays clean vocally amid its uptempo, Torche-but-not-really push. Organ joins the march in the closing title-track (14:57), which gallops following its extended intro, doom-crashes to a crawl and returns to double-kick behind the encompassing last solo, rounding out with suitable showcase of breadth and intention.
Planet of Zeus make a striking return with their sixth album, Afterlife, basing their theme around mythologies current and past and accompanying that with a sound that’s both less brash than they were a few years back on 2019’s Faith in Physics (review here) and refined in the sharpness and efficiency of its songwriting. It’s a rocker, which is what one has come to expect from these Athens-based veterans. Afterlife builds momentum through desert-style rockers like “Baptized in His Death” and the hooky “No Ordinary Life” and “The Song You Misunderstand,” getting poppish in the stomp of “Bad Milk” only after the bluesy “Let’s Call it Even” and before the punkier “Letter to a Newborn,” going where it wants and leaving no mystery as to how it’s getting there because it doesn’t need to. One of the foremost Greek outfits of their generation, Planet of Zeus show up, tell you what they’re going to do, then do it and get out, still managing to leave behind some atmospheric resonance in “State of Non-Existence.” There’s audible, continued forward growth and kickass tunes. If that sounds pretty ideal, it is.
Cinematic in its portrayal, Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet positions itself as cosmically minded, and manifests that in sometimes-minimal — effectively so, since it’s hypnotic — aural spaciousness, but Paris’ Human Teorema veer into Eastern-influenced scales amid their exploratory, otherworldly-on-purpose landscaping, and each planet on which they touch down, from “Onirico” (7:43) to “Studiis” (15:54) and “Spedizione” (23:20) is weirder than the last, shifting between these vast passages and jammier stretches still laced with synth. Each piece has its own procession and dynamic, and perhaps the shifts in intent are most prevalent within “Studiis,” but the closer is, on the balance, a banger as well, and there’s no interruption in flow once you’ve made the initial choice to go with Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet. An instrumental approach allows Human Teorema to embody descriptive impressions that words couldn’t create, and when they decide to hit it hard, they’re heavy enough for the scale they’ve set. Won’t resonate universally (what does?), but worth meeting on its level.
There are two epics north of the 10-minute mark on Caged Wolves‘ maybe-debut LP, A Deserts Tale: “Lost in the Desert” (11:26) right after the intro “Dusk” and “Chaac” (10:46) right before the hopeful outro “Dawn.” The album runs a densely-packed 48 minutes through eight tracks total, and pieces like the distortion-drone-backed “Call of the Void,” the alt-prog rocking “Eleutheromania,” “Laguna,” which is like earlier Radiohead in that it goes somewhere on a linear build, and the spoken-word-over-noise interlude “The Lost Tale” aren’t exactly wanting for proportion, regardless of runtime. The bassline that opens “Call of the Void” alone would be enough to scatter orcs, but that still pales next to “Chaac,” which pushes further and deeper, topping with atmospheric screams and managing nonetheless to come out of the other side of that harsh payoff of some of the album’s most weighted slog in order to bookend and give the song the finish it deserves, completing it where many wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. This impression is writ large throughout and stands among the clearest cases for A Deserts Tale as the beginning of a longer-term development.
I find myself wanting to talk about how big Liminal Escapism sounds, but I don’t mean in terms of tonal proportion so much as the distances that seem to be encompassed by Greek progressive instrumentalists Anomalos Kosmos. With an influence from Grails and, let’s say, 50 years’ worth of prog rock composition (but definitely honoring the earlier end of that timeline), Anomalos Kosmos offer emotional evocation in pieces that feel compact on either side of six or seven minutes, taking the root jams and building them into structures that still come across as a journey. The classy soloing in “Me Orizeis” and synthy shimmer of “Parapatao,” the rumble beneath the crescendo of “Kitonas” and all of that gosh darn flow in “Flow” speak to a songwriting process that is aware of its audience but feels no need to talk down, musically speaking, to feed notions of accessibility. Instead, the immersion and energetic drumming of “Teledos” and the way closer “Cigu” rallies around pastoral fuzz invite the listener to come along on this apparently lightspeed voyage — thankfully not tempo-wise — and allow room for the person hearing these sounds to cast their own interpretations thereof.
One could not hope to fully encapsulate an impression here of nearly three and a half hours of sometimes-improv psych-drone, and I refuse to feel bad for not trying. Instead, I’ll tell you that Grand Fractal Orchestra — the Psychedelic Source Records 3CD edition of which has already sold out — finds Budapest-based guitarist Ákos Karancz deeply engaged in the unfolding sounds here. Layering effects, collaborating with others from the informal PSR collective like zitherist Márton Havlik or singer Krisztina Benus, and so on, Karancz constructs each piece in a way that feels both steered in a direction and organic to where the music wants to go. “Ore Genesis” gets a little frantic around the middle but finds its chill, “Human Habitat” is duly foreboding, and the two-part, 49-minute-total capper “Transforming Time to Space” is beautiful and meditative, like staring at a fountain with your ears. It goes without saying not everybody has the time or the attention span to sit with a release like this, but if you take it one track at a time for the next four years or so, there’s worlds enough in these songs that they’ll probably just keep sinking in. And if Karancz puts outs like five new albums in that time too, so much the better.
It probably goes without saying — at least it should — that while the classic folk fingerplucking of “Whispering Waters” and the Americana-busy “Laurel Creek Blues” give a sweet introduction to Blake Hornsby‘s A Village of Many Springs, inevitably it’s the 23-minute experimentalist spread of the finale, “Bury My Soul in the Linville River,” that’s going to be a focal point for many listeners, and fair enough. The earthbound-cosmic feel of that piece, its devolution into Lennon-circa-1968 tape noise and concluding drone, aren’t at all without preface. A Village of Many Springs gets weirder as it goes, with the eight-minute “Cathedral Falls” building over its time into a payoff of seemingly on-guitar violence, and the subsequent “O How the Water Flows” nestling into a sweet spot between Appalachian nostalgia and foreboding twang. There’s percussion and manipulation of noise later, too, but even in its repetition, “O How the Water Flows” continues Hornsby‘s trajectory. For what’s apparently an ode to water in the region surrounding Hornsby‘s home in Asheville, North Carolina, that it feels fluid should be no surprise, but by no means does one need to have visited Laurel Creek to appreciate the blues Hornsby conjures for them.
With a sensibility in some of the synth of “Hacamat” born of space rock, Congulus have no trouble moving from that to the 1990s-style alt-rock saunter of “Diri Bir Nefes,” furthering the momentum already on the Istanbul-based instrumentalist trio’s side after opener “İskeletin Düğün Halayı” before “Senin Sırlarının Yenilmez Gücünü Gördüm” spaces out its solo over scales out of Turkish folk and “Park” marries together the divergent chugs of Judas Priest and Meshuggah, there’s plenty of adventure to be had on Göçebe. It’s the band’s second full-length behind 2019’s Bozkır — they’ve had short releases between — and it moves from “Park” into the push of “Zarzaram” and “Vordonisi” with efficiency that’s only deceptive because there’s so much stylistic range, letting “Ulak” have its open sway and still bash away for a moment or two before “Sonunda Ah Çekeriz Derinden” closes by tying space rock, Mediterranean traditionalism and modern boogie together in one last jam before consigning the listener back to the harsher, decidedly less utopian vibes of reality.
Posted in Reviews on December 11th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Wow. This is a pretty good day. I mean, I knew that coming into it — I’m the one slating the reviews — but looking up there at the names in the header, that’s a pretty killer assemblage. Maybe I’m making it easy for myself and loading up the QR with stuff I like and want to write about. Fine. Sometimes I need to remind myself that’s the point of this project in the first place.
Hope you’re having an awesome week. I am.
Quarterly Review #21-30
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Thou, Umbilical
Even knowing that the creation of a sense of overwhelm is on purpose and is part of the artistry of what Thou do, Thou are overwhelming. The stated purpose behind Umbilical is an embrace of their collective inner hardcore kid. Fine. Slow down hardcore and you pretty much get sludge metal one way or the other and Thou‘s take on it is undeniably vicious and has a character that is its own. Songs like “I Feel Nothing When You Cry” and “The Promise” envision dark futures from a bleak present, and the poetry from which the lyrics get their shape is as despondent and cynical as one could ever ask, waiting to be dug into and interpreted by the listener. Let’s be honest. I have always had a hard time buying into the hype on Thou. I’ve seen them live and enjoyed it and you can’t hear them on record and say they aren’t good at what they do, but their kind of extremity isn’t what I’m reaching for most days when I’m trying to not be in the exact hopeless mindset the band are aiming for. Umbilical isn’t the record to change my mind and it doesn’t need to be. It’s precisely what it’s going for. Caustic.
The fourth full-length from Boston’s Cortez sets a tone with opener “Gimme Danger (On My Stereo)” (premiered here) for straight-ahead, tightly-composed, uptempo heavy rock, and sure enough that would put Thieves and Charlatans — recorded by Benny Grotto at Mad Oak Studios — in line with Cortez‘s work to-date. What unfolds from the seven-minute “Leaders of Nobody” onward is a statement of expanded boundaries in what Cortez‘s sound can encompass. The organ-laced jamitude of “Levels” or the doom rock largesse of “Liminal Spaces” that doesn’t clash with the prior swing of “Stove Up” mostly because the band know how to write songs; across eight songs and 51 minutes, the five-piece of vocalist Matt Harrington, guitarists Scott O’Dowd and Alasdair Swan, bassist Jay Furlo and sitting-in drummer Alexei Rodriguez (plus a couple other guests from Boston’s heavy underground) reaffirm their level of craft, unite disparate material through performance and present a more varied and progressive take than they’ve ever had. They’re past 25 years at this point and still growing in sound. They may be underrated forever, but that’s a special band.
Writing a catchy song is not easy. Writing a song so catchy it’s still catchy even though you don’t speak the language is the provenance of the likes of Uffe Lorenzen. The founding frontman of in-the-ether-for-now Copenhagen heavy/garage psych pioneers Baby Woodrose digs into more straightforward fare on the second full-length from his new trio Lydsyn, putting a long-established Stooges influence to good use in “Hejremanden” after establishing at the outset that “Musik Er Nummer 1” (‘music is number one’) and before the subsequent slowdown into harmony blues with “UFO.” “Nørrebro” has what would seem to be intentional cool-neighborhood strut, and those seeking more of a garage-type energy might find it in “Du Vil Have Mere” or “Opråb” earlier on, and closer “Den Døde By” has a scorch that feels loyal to Baby Woodrose‘s style of psych, but whatever ties there are to Lorenzen‘s contributions over the last 20-plus years, Lydsyn stand out for the resultant quality of songwriting and for having their own dynamic building on Lorenzen‘s solo work and post-Baby Woodrose arc.
The popular wisdom has had it for a few years now that retroism is out. Hearing Baltimorean power trio Magick Potion vibe their way into swaying ’70s-style heavy blues on “Empress,” smoothly avoiding the trap of sounding like Graveyard and spacing out more over the dramatic first two minutes of “Wizard” and the proto-doomly rhythmic jabs that follow. Guitarist/vocalist/organist Dresden Boulden, bassist/vocalist Triston Grove and drummer Jason Geezus Kendall capture a sound that’s as fresh as it is familiar, and while there’s no question that the aesthetic behind the big-swing “Never Change” and the drawling, sunshine-stoned “Pagan” is rooted in the ’68-’74 “comedown era” — as their label, RidingEasy Records has put it in the past — classic heavy rock has become a genre unto itself over the last 25-plus years, and Magick Potion present a strong, next-generation take on the style that’s brash without being willfully ridiculous and that has the chops to back up its sonic callouts. The potential for growth is significant, as it would be with any band starting out with as much chemistry as they have, but don’t take that as a backhanded way of saying the self-titled is somehow lacking. To be sure, they nail it.
Oase is the second full-length from Berlin’s Weite behind 2023’s Assemblage (review here), also on Stickman, and it’s their first with keyboardist Fabien deMenou in the lineup with bassist Ingwer Boysen (Delving), guitarists Michael Risberg (Delving, Elder) and Ben Lubin (Lawns), and drummer Nick DiSalvo (Delving, Elder), and it unfurls across as pointedly atmospheric 53 minutes, honed from classic progressive rock but by the time they get to “(einschlafphase)” expanded into a cosmic, almost new age drone. Longer pieces like “Roter Traum” (10:55), “Eigengrau” (12:41) or even the opening “Versteinert” (9:36) offer impact as well as mood, maybe even a little boogie, “Woodbury Hollow” is more pastoral but no less affecting. The same goes for “Time Will Paint Another Picture,” which seems to emphasize modernity in the clarity of its production even amid vintage influences. Capping with the journey-to-freakout “The Slow Wave,” Oase pushes the scope of Weite‘s sound farther out while hitting harder than their first record, adding to the arrangements, and embracing new ideas. Unless you have a moral aversion to prog for some reason, there’s no angle from which this one doesn’t make itself a must-hear.
Big on tone and melody in a way that feels inspired by the modern sphere of heavy — thinking that Hum record, Elephant Tree, Magnetic Eye-type stuff — Florida’s Orbiter set forth across vast reaches in Distorted Folklore, a song like “Lightning Miles” growing more expansive even as it follows a stoner-bouncing drum pattern. Layering is a big factor, but it doesn’t feel like trickery or the band trying to sound like anything or anyone in particular so much as they’re trying to serve their songs — Jonathan Nunez (ex-Torche, etc.) produced; plenty of room in the mix for however big Orbiter want to get — as they shift from the rush that typified stretches of their 2019 debut, Southern Failures, to a generally more lumbering approach. The slowdown suits them here, though fast or slow, the procession of their work is as much about breadth as impact. Whatever direction they take as they move into their second decade, that foundation is crucial.
As regards genre: “dark arts?” Taking into account the 44 minutes of Vlimmer‘s fourth LP, which is post-industrial as much as it’s post-punk, with plenty of goth, some metal, some doom, some dance music, and so on factored in, there’s not a lot else that might encompass the divergent intentions of “Endpuzzle” or “Überrennen” as the Berlin solo-project of Alexander Donat harnesses ethereal urbanity in the brooding-till-it-bursts “Sinkopf” or the manic pulses under the vocal longing of closer “Fadenverlust.” To Donat‘s credit, from the depth of the setup given by longest/opening track (immediate points) “2025” to the goth-coated keyboard throb in “Mondläufer,” Bodenhex never goes anywhere it isn’t meant to go, and unto the finest details of its mix and arrangements, Vlimmer‘s work exudes expressive purpose. It is a record that has been hammered out over a period of time to be what it is, and that has lost none of the immediacy that likely birthed it in that process.
Indianapolis four-piece Moon Goons cut an immediately individual impression on their third album, Lady of Many Faces. The album, which often presents itself as a chaotic mash of ideas, is in fact not that thing. The band is well in control, just able and/or wanting to do more with their sound than most. They are also mindfully, pointedly weird. If you ever believed space rock could have been invented in an alternate reality 1990s and run through filters of lysergism and Devin Townsend-style progressive metal, you might take the time now to book the tattoo of the cover of Lady of Many Faces you’re about to want. Shenanigans abound in the eight songs, if I haven’t made that clear, and even the nod of “Doom Tomb Giant” feels like a freakout given the treatment put on by Moon Goons, but the thing about the album is that as frenetic as the four-piece of lead vocalist/guitarist Corey Standifer, keyboardist/vocalist Brooke Rice, bassist Devin Kearns and drummer Jacob Kozlowski get on their way to the doped epic finisher title-track, the danger of it coming apart is a well constructed, skillfully executed illusion. And what a show it is.
Although it opens up with some element of foreboding by transposing the progression of AC/DC‘s “Hells Bells” onto its own purposes in heavy Canadiana rock, and it gets a bit shouty/sludgy in the lyrical crescendo of “What a Dummy,” which seems to be about getting pulled over on a DUI, or the later “The Castle of White Lake,” much of Familiars‘ Easy Does It lives up to its name. Far from inactive, the band are never in any particular rush, and while a piece like “Golden Season,” with its singer-songwriter vocal, acoustic guitar and backing string sounds, carries a sense of melancholy — certainly more than the mellow groover swing and highlight bass lumber of “Gustin Grove,” say — the band never lay it on so thick as to disrupt their own momentum more than they want to. Working as a five-piece with pedal steel, piano and other keys alongside the core guitar, bass and drums, Easy Does It finds a balance of accessibility and deeper-engaging fare combined with twists of the unexpected.
Progressive stoner psych rockers The Fërtility Cült unveil their fifth album, A Song of Anger, awash in otherworldly soul music vibes, sax and fuzz and roll in conjunction with carefully arranged harmonies and melodic and rhythmic turns. There’s a lot of heavy prog around — I don’t even know how many times I’ve used the word today and frankly I’m scared to check — and admittedly part of that is how open that designation can feel, but The Fërtility Cült seem to take an especially fervent delight in their slow, molten, flowing chicanery on “The Duel” and elsewhere, and the abiding sense is that part of it is a joke, but part of everything is a joke and also the universe is out there and we should go are you ready? A Song of Anger is billed as a prequel, and perhaps “The Curse of the Atreides” gives some thematic hint as well, but whether you’ve been with them all along or this is the first you’ve heard, the 12-minute closing title-track is its own world. If you think you’re ready — and good on you for that — the dive is waiting for your immersion.
Posted in Reviews on December 10th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Day two. I mean, it’s work in the sense of it takes effort to put together these posts and structure thoughts into hopefully somewhat coherent sentences, etc., but at this point the Quarterly Review is a pretty important tool for me to hear records that, generally once I hear them, I feel like I want to be covering. Sometimes the intensity of that feeling varies; there are things that don’t “fit” with the stoner-and-doom adjacent foundations of what this site does, but the format allows for that flexibility as well, and I credit the QR for helping broaden the perspective of the site as a whole and making me push my own boundaries.
Admittedly, the trade for covering so much — 50 records in five days is a lot, if it needs to be said — is that I can’t always get as deep as I otherwise might, but as I’ve said before, the fact is that I’m one person, and if writing about a lot of this stuff didn’t happen in this way, it probably wouldn’t happen at all. It’s still never going to be everything I want to cover, but doing it this was is often more suited to the subject at hand than a longform writeup would be, it gives me a chance to explore, it’s a consistently challenging undertaking on multiple levels, and it’s satisfying like little else around here when you’re on the other end of one and immediately start building the next.
I’m not entirely sure why I felt the need right there to justify the existence of the entire Quarterly Review thing as a part of this site. If you care, thanks. If not, I can only call that understandable. Thanks for seeing this sentence and whatever you came here for anyway.
We march on, into day two.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
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Fuzz Sagrado, Cold Remains
As Christian Peters has gradually embraced his inner rocker over the last couple years with Fuzz Sagrado, rediscovering the sacredness of tone, if you will, and using an expanded palette of synth and keyboards to build on the project’s beginnings while tying it together with his prior outfit, the heavy psych rockers Samsara Blues Experiment, it’s fascinating how much the respective personalities of the two acts still shine through. On Cold Remains, along with the new song “Snowchild” that leads off, Peters showcases three until-now lost pieces that have their origins in his former band but were never released: “Cold Remains,” a grim-lyric title-track given due heft of low end, the short “Morphine Prayer,” which intertwines acoustic strum and electric leads and drops the drums for an even more open feel, and “Neurotic Nirvana,” which clues you into the grunge of its central riff in the title but stretches outward from there across six minutes with particular bliss in the solo for a hopeful second half. It sounds like reconciliation, and in that, it fits well with the ongoing growth of Peters‘ Brazilian period.
From the punkish opening shove of “Rat Race” and “Manic Street Ballet,” 24/7 Diva Heaven‘s second full-length for Noisolution, Gift, unfolds a style that’s both raw and dense enough to carry a heavy groove, straightforward but nuanced in craft and threaded through with attitude born out of ’90s-era riot grrrl noise rock, but able to temper that somewhat with a mellower, more melodic rocker like “Crown of Creation” — some influence from The Donnas, maybe? — before the sharp-edged intensity of “Face Down” and the thrust of “These Days” precede the centerpiece title-track’s quiet-grunge trading off with careening, hard-hitting punk rock in a way that works. No worries, as “L.O.V.E. Forever” and the Godsleep-esque aggro-rocker “Suck it Up” follow at what might be the start of side B, with a highlight bassy groove in the QOTSA-meets-Nirvana catchy “Born to Get Bored,” staying in a heavy rock modus but nonetheless faster and kind of threatening to throw a punch in “Flawless Fool,” the piano-led “Nothing Lasts” capping with duly wistful minimalism. Killer. It’s 11 tracks in 32 minutes, wastes zero of its own or your time, and has something to say both in sound and its lyrics. This band should be on all the festivals.
Holy smokes that’s a vibe. Even at its most active — which would be “Grey Smoke,” if you want specifics — the heavygaze-adjacent psych blues rock of Germany’s Mount Hush holds an encompassing sense of atmosphere, and while cuts like “All I See” or the smokey “Blues for the Dead” can trace some of what they do to the likes of All Them Witches, Queens of the Stone Age, Colour Haze, and so on, the material is inventive, unrushed and explores outward from a solid foundation of craft, leaning perhaps deepest into psych on “Celestial Eyes,” featuring a classy bit of flute in the penultimate “54” and going big in melody and tone for the finishing move in “Blood Red Sky,” working in Eastern scales for a meditative feel while staying loyal to its own distortion and post-Uncle Acid swing; one more part of the not-slapdash pastiche Mount Hush build as they take a marked breadth of influence, melt it down and shape something of their own from it. Gorgeously. Flowing with grace at no expense to the impact, II is a striking and forward looking point of arrival waiting to be caught up to. This is a band I’m glad to have heard, even before you get to the RPG.
Wherever you’re headed, Luna Sol are ready to meet you there. David Angstrom — also of Hermano — leads the bluesy heavy rockers with a slew of choice, family-style cuts. Granted, with 15 tracks and more than 50 minutes of material, there’s room to move around a bit, but whether it’s the Leaf Hound cover “Freelance Fiend” or Mountain‘s “Never in My Life” or the delay-laced verses of not-a-cover “Surrounded by Thieves” later on, Vita Mors offers both scope and craft around the heavy blues framework. That can get a little meaner tonally in “Watch Our Skeletons Die” or fuzzily back a bouncing groove on “I’ll Be Your One,” and the songs will remain united through Angstrom‘s vocals and the trust the band as a whole earn through the strength of their songwriting. It’s not a minor undertaking in an age of short attention spans, but given their time, Vita Mors‘ songs can very easily start to live with you.
Taut in their two-guitar drive and going big on hooks and harmonies alike, Ian Blurton’s Future Now‘s second album, Crimes of the City, is a heart-on-sleeve heavy rocker brimming with life, purpose in its construction, and a sense of celebrating the riffs and metals of old. With Blurton himself on guitar/vocals, guitarist Aaron Goldstein, bassist Anna Ruddick and drummer Glenn Milchem — Gregory MacDonald is also listed as ‘The Goose’ in the credits — the four-piece don’t touch the four-minute mark once in Crimes of the City‘s succession of 10 bangers, despite coming close in “Cast Away the Stones,” and as one could only expect, the songs are air tight in structure and delivery. And just when it seems to run the risk of being too perfect, Blurton drops the layers for the verse of “Nocturnal Transmissions” or exudes sheer delight in the ’80s metal of “Seventh Sin of Devotion,” or the whole band rides a groove like “School’s In,” and it’s all so open, welcoming and vibrant that it can’t help but be human in the end. Killer at any volume, but more don’t hurt.
Prone to a psych-garage freakout, willfully jagged on the swaying “Two Birds,” indie drifting to the Riff-Filled Land™ and the neighboring Epicsolosburg on “Ten Lies” and righteously horny/not creepy on “Woman,” Mirage is the first full-length from South Africa’s Moskitos, and while it has some element of sneer as a facet inherited from in-genre influences, “Ryder” still feels sincere as it departs what Moe called a “carhole” one time in favor of a more open landscape. There’s intricacy in the rhythm of “Believer” if you want it, and the set-up-for-contrast relative patience of opener “Umbra,” which, yeah, still twists the cosmos a bit by the time it’s done, is a highlight as well, and “Trigger” shifts between quiet parts and putting a shuffle beneath its melodic ending, but some of the most effective moments here are more about the soul behind it all. The feel is loose, but they’re not without a plan, and while there’s no shortage of haze between here and there, it will be interesting to hear how Moskitos build on ideas like the expansive-but-not-unpoppy-till-the-payoff “Ten Lies” and what new ground they find as they move forward.
This Halloween-issued sequel to Deer Lord‘s early-2023 EP, Dark Matter (review here) unfolds across six tracks broken into two sides of three each. Each begins with its longest track (immediate points), and uses the spaciousness cast in “Dark Matter” (8:11) and “Intelligent Life” (7:24), respectively, to bolster the atmosphere of the rockers that follow, “Faster” and “Dogma” on side A, the swinging cosmic blowout “Blade” and closer “Pay” on side B. If that makes it sound somewhat orderly, this symmetry is contrasted by the loosen-your-head psychedelic drive of “Dogma” or “Faster” sounding like Clutch as beamed from Voyager 1 hitting a gravity wave on the way. The now-trio of guitarist/vocalist Sheafer McOmber, drummer Ryan Alderman and bassist Jared Marill hit on a sonic niche of earthy fuzz meeting with spaced plasmatic volatility. It’s big and it moves! It would be more of a surprise if they weren’t signed by somebody or other by the time they get around to their debut full-length.
Following up on their 2023 self-titled-if-you-go-by-apparent-pronunciation LP, Tiefenrausch, Book of Circles sees instrumentalist three-piece TFNRSH make a striking entry into the admittedly crowded German and greater European sans-vocal heavy psychedelic underground. Standing out through a proggy use of synth, the second album offers “Zorn” in the place the first put “Slift,” and while it’s true the band remain not without influence from the modern European heavy psychedelic ouevre — some of the twists in “Zemestån” feel Elderian, as an example — they’re distinguished not only by how heavy “Zorn” eventually gets or “WRZL” is at its outset, or by Julius Watzl‘s stellar hold-it-together drumming amid the currents of synth being run by both guitarist Sasan Bahreini and bassist Stefan Wettengl there, but also by the float and patience of “Ammoglÿd” — imagine a mid-period Anathema intro but it unfolds as the whole song and it works — which only underscores the progressive mindset underlying all of this material. The kind of record that won’t hit with everybody but will hit with some very, very hard.
While based largely in doom, Altareth‘s Passage: The Welfare Sessions absolutely soars in the solo of its centerpiece track “Singapore,” picking up from a mellower kind of lumbering brood and answering the lift of its middle with a push to the finish. Passage: The Welfare Sessions may be worth the asking price for that alone, but that hardly means that’s all the Gothenburg five-piece have on offer, when there’s acoustic to layer into the subsequent “Pilgrim” or the blend of murk and impact in the rolling leadoff “Passage,” the way “The Stars” holds to its crawling tempo but offers a sense of payoff anyhow, or the psychedelia that runs alongside the march of “Recluse,” which rounds out the reportedly live-recorded proceedings with emotive melancholy and a final stretch of quiet, sample-topped guitar. Produced by Kalle Lilja and Per Stålberg at Welfare Sounds, hence the title, Passage: The Welfare Sessions speaks even more boldly to the band’s potential than their 2021 debut, Blood (review here). Don’t be fooled by smooth transitions and a subtlety of scope. Altareth are onto something.
If you find yourself wanting to applaud in the couple seconds of silence between “Bat Trip” and the pointedly doomjazzy “Piosenka o przemijaniu,” at least know that you’re not alone. Antropocen is the debut full-length from Kraków, Poland’s Jarzma, and with it, the band invent a style of playing that is immediately their own, basing their arrangements around nyckelharpha and imaginative percussion and drumming either folkish or not, voices coming and going through songs that don’t just sound the way they do as a novelty, but break their own rules from the very outset in the poppish dance hook of opener “Big Heat.” It’s brazen, it’s masterful in terms of performance, and it’s made from a place of wanting to add to the scope of the genre that birthed it (doom/heavy) and represent something about its place to those outside. I guess you could call it experimental in terms of sound, but that’s not to say there’s anything haphazard about it. Given the range of what they’re doing — the band is comprised of Piotr Aleksander Nowak on the aforementioned nyckelharpa and drummer/vocalist Katarzyna Bobik, and there are guests throughout — it’s kind of astonishing for how clearly the plan comes across, actually. When you want something in heavy music you’ve never heard before, Jarzmo will be waiting.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 10th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
This is the second of two-so-far updates that Desertfest Oslo has posted over the weekend for its 2025 edition. Last week brought Graveyard, Eagle Twin, Cult Member and Slor to the bill, and this past weekend, it was Pallbearer, Messa, Barren Womb and Grand Atomic. These are not minor considerations on a lineup that already included Elder, Oranssi Pazuzu, Elephant Tree, Truckfighters, DVNE and others, and if I have my understanding of the advent calendar right, there should be two more such announcements still to come. Whether the lineup is complete at that point or not, I have no idea, but the poster’s starting to look pretty packed, for whatever that’s worth.
The announcement this time around is pretty minimal — just the names — which is fair enough. I’ve written a fair amount of festival-announcement text in my time, and for sure have wondered on more than one occasion if anyone ever bothered to read any of it while presuming the negative. Sometimes I actually do read it, because you usually get a pretty tight encapsulation of what a band you don’t know might sound like, but I have to acknowledge that that habit is based on the writing, which isn’t going to be everybody’s experience. The names were linked to social media pages when the fest posted them, so it wasn’t like they were giving you nothing to go on, in any case. Leads were provided. It’s more than you get from me. I just ramble on.
Here’s this week looking forward to next week. See how this works? Weekly. It’s called “weekly.” Here we go:
Second Sunday of advent is here. 🎄
BOOM! 💥☄️
Pallbearer (US) MESSA (IT) Barren Womb (NO) Grand Atomic (NO)
Make sure to get your tickets – you don’t wanna miss Desertfest Oslo 2025!
Posted in Reviews on December 9th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to the Quarterly Review. Oh, you were here last time? Me too. All door prizes will be mailed to winning parties upon completion of, uh, everything, I guess?
Anywhazzle, the good news is this week is gonna have 50 releases covered between now — the 10 below — and the final batch of 10 this Friday. I’m trying to sneak in a bunch of stuff ahead of year-end coverage, yes, but let the urgency of my doing so stand as testament to the quality of the music contained in this particular Quarterly Review. If I didn’t feel strongly about it, surely I’d find some other way to spend my time.
That said, let’s not waste time. You know the drill, I know the drill. Just don’t be surprised when some of the stuff you see here, today, tomorrow, and throughout the week, ends up in the Best of 2024 when the time comes. I have no idea what just yet, but for sure some of it.
We go.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
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Gnome, Vestiges of Verumex Visidrome
Some bands write songs for emotional catharsis. Some do it to make a political statement. Gnome‘s songs feel specifically — and expertly — crafted to engage an audience, and their third full-length, Vestiges of Verumex Visidrome, underscores the point. Hooks like “Old Soul” and “Duke of Disgrace” offer a self-effacing charm, where elsewhere the Antwerp trio burn through hot-shit riffing and impact-minded slam metal with a quirk that, if you’ve caught wind of the likes of Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol or Howling Giant in recent years, should fit nicely among them while finding its own sonic niche in being able to, say, throw a long sax solo on second cut “The Ogre” or veer into death growls for the title line of “Rotten Tongue” and others. They make ‘party riff metal’ sound much easier to manifest than it probably is, and the reason their reputation precedes them at this point goes right back to the songwriting. They hit hard, they get in, get out, it’s efficient when it wants to be but can still throw a curve with the stop and pivot in “Rotten Tongue,” running a line between punk and stoner, rock and metal, your face and the floor. It might actually be too enjoyable for some, but the funk they bring here is infectious. They make the riffs dance, and everything goes from there.
The lone studio track “Breathe” serves as the reasoning behind Hermano‘s first new release since 2007’s …Into the Exam Room (discussed here), and actually predates that still-latest long-player by some years. Does it matter? Yeah, sort of. As regards John Garcia‘s post-Kyuss career, Hermano both got fleshed out more than most (thinking bands like Unida and Slo Burn, even Vista Chino, that didn’t get to release three full-lengths in their time), and still seemed to fade out when there was so much potential ahead of them. If “Breathe” doesn’t argue in favor of this band giving it the proverbial “one more go,” perhaps the live version of “Brother Bjork” (maybe the same one featured on 2005’s Live at W2?) and a trio of cuts captured at Hellfest in 2016 should do the trick nicely. They’re on fire through “Senor Moreno’s Plan,” “Love” and “Manager’s Special,” with Garcia, Dandy Brown, David Angstrom, Chris Leathers and Mike Callahan treating Clisson to a reminder of why they’re the kind of band who might get to build an entire EP around a leftover studio track — because that studio track, and the band more broadly, righteously kick their own kind of ass. What would a new album be like?
Almost on a per-song basis, Stahv — the mostly-solo brainchild of multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Solomon Arye Rosenschein, here collaborating on production with John Getze of Ako-Lite Records — skewers and melds genres to create something new from their gooey remnants. On the opening title-track, maybe that’s a post-industrial Phil Collins set to dreamtime keyboard and backed by fuzzy drone. On “Lunar Haze,” it’s all goth ’80s keyboard handclaps until the chorus melody shines through the fog machine like The Beatles circa ’64. Yeah that’s right. And on “Bossa Supernova,” you bet your ass it’s bossa nova. “The Calling” reveals a rocker’s soul, where “Plainview” earlier on has a swing that might draw from The Birthday Party at its root (it also might not) but has its own sleek vibe just the same with a far-back, lo-fi buzz that somehow makes the melody sound better. “Aaskew” (sic) takes a hard-funkier stance musically but its outsider perspective in the lyrics is similar. The 1960s come back around in the later for “Circuit Crash” — it would have to be a song about the future — and “Leaving Light” seems to make fun of/celebrate (it can be both) that moment in the ’80s when everything became tropical. There’s worlds here waiting for ears adventurous enough to hear them.
I mean, look. The central question you really have to ask yourself is how mellow do you want to get? Do you think you can handle 12 minutes of “Transmigration?” Do you think you can be present in yourself through that cool-as-fuck, ultra-smooth psychedelic twist Space Shepherds pull off, barely three minutes into the the beginning of this seven-track, 71-minute pacifier to quiet the bad voices in your (definitely not my) brain. What’s up with that keyboard shuffle in “Celestial Rose” later on? I don’t know, but it rules. And when they blow it out in “Got Caught Dreaming?” Yeah, hell yeah, wake up! “Free Return” is a 15-minute drifter jam that gets funky in the back half (a phrase I’d like on a shirt) and you don’t wanna miss it! At the risk of spoiling it, I’ll tell you that the title-track, which closes, is absolutely the payoff it’s all asking for. If you’ve got the time to sit with it, and you can just sort of go where it’s going, Cycler is a trip begging to be taken.
It is all very big. All very grand, sweeping and poised musically, very modern and progressive and such — and immediately it has something if that’s what you’re looking for, which is super-doper, thanks — but if you dig into King Botfly‘s vocals, there’s a vulnerability there as well that adds an intimacy to all that sweep and plunges down the depths of the spacious mix’s low end. And I’m not knocking that part of it either. The Portsmouth, UK-based three-piece of guitarist/vocalist George Bell, bassist Luke Andrew and drummer Darren Draper, take on a monumental task in terms of largesse, and they hit hard when they want to, but there’s dynamic in it too, and both has an edge and doesn’t seem to go anywhere it does without a reason, which is a hard balance to strike. They sound like a band who will and maybe already have learned from this and will use that knowledge to move forward in an ongoing creative pursuit. So yes, progressive. Also tectonically heavy. And with heart. I think you got it. They’ll be at Desertfest London next May, and they sound ready for it.
Are Last Band a band? They sure sound like one. Founded by guitarists Pat Paul and Matt LeGrow (the latter also of Admiral Browning) upwards of 15 years ago, when they were less of an actual band, the Maryland-based outfit offer 13 songs of heavy alternative rock on The Sacrament in Accidents, with some classic metal roots shining through amid the harmonies of “Saffire Alice” and a denser thrust in “Season of Outrage,” a rush in the penultimate “Forty-Four to the Floor,” and so on, where the title-track is more of an open sway and “Lidocaine” is duly placid, and while the production is by no means expansive, the band convey their songs with intent. Most cuts are in the three-to-four-minute range, but “Blown Out” dips into psychedelic-gaze wash as the longest at 5:32 offset by comparatively grounded, far-off Queens of the Stone Age-style vocalizing in the last minute, which is an effective culmination. The material has range and feels worked on, and while The Sacrament in Accidents sounds raw, it hones a reach that feels true to a songwriting methodology evolved over time.
Debuting earlier this decade as a solo-project of Andrew Cox, Seattle’s Dream Circuit have built out to a four-piece for with Pennies for Your Life, which throughout its six-track/36-minute run sets a contemplative emotionalist landscape. Now completed by Anthony Timm, Cody Albers and Ian Etheridge, the band are able to move from atmospheric stretches of classically-inspired-but-modern-sounding verses into heavier tonality on a song like “Rosy” with fluidity that seems to save its sweep for when it counts. The title-track dares some shouts, giving some hint of a metallic underpinning, but that still rests well in context next to the sitar sounds of “Let Go,” which opens at 4:10 into its own organ-laced crush, emotionally satisfying. Imagine a post-heavy rock that’s still pretty heavy, and a dynamic that stretches across microgenres, and maybe that will give some starting idea. The last two tracks argue for efficiency in craft, but wherever Dream Circuit go on this sophomore release, they take their own route to get there.
“All is Light” is the first single from New Paltz bliss-drone meditationalist solo outfit Okkoto since 2022’s stellar and affirming Climb the Antlers and Reach the Stars (review here), and its seven minutes carry a similar scope to what one found on that album. To be clear, that’s a compliment. Interwoven threads of synth over methodical timekeeping drum sounds, wisps of airy guitar drawn together with other lead lines, keys or strings, create a flowing world around the vocals added by Michael Lutomski, also (formerly?) of heavy psych rockers It’s Not Night: It’s Space, the sole proprietor of the expanse. A lot of a given listener’s experience of Okkoto experience will depend on their own headspace, but if you have the time and attention — seven-plus minutes of active-but-not-too-active hearing recommended — but “All is Light” showcases the rare restorative aspects of Okkoto in a way that, if you can get to it, can make you believe, or at least escape for a little while.
Trappist Afterland, Evergreen: Walk to Paradise Garden
Underscored with a earth-rooted folkish fragility in the voice of Adam Geoffrey Cole (also guitar, cittern, tanpura, oud, synth, xylophone and something called a ‘dulcitar’), Melbourne’s Trappist Afterland are comfortably adventurous on this 10th full-length, Evergreen: Walk to Paradise Garden, which digs deeper into psych-drone on longest track “Cruciform/The Reincarnation of Kelly-Anne (Parts 1-3)” (7:55) while elsewhere digs into fare more Eastern-influenced-Western-traditional, largely based around guitar composition. With an assortment of collaborators coming and going, even this is enough for Cole and his seemingly itinerant company to create a sense of variety — the violin in centerpiece “Barefoot in Thistles” does a lot of work in that regard; ditto the squeezebox of opener “The Squall” — and while the arrangements don’t lack for flourish, the human expression is paramount, and the nine songs are serene unto the group vocal that caps in “You Are Evergreen,” which would seem to be placed to highlight its resonance, and reasonably so. As it’s Trappist Afterland‘s 10th album by their own count, it’s hardly a surprise they know what they’re about, but they do anyway.
For a band who went so far as to name themselves after a fuzz pedal, Spain’s Big Muff Brigade have more in common with traditional desert rock than the kind of tonal worship one might expect them to deliver. That landscape doesn’t account for their naming a song “Terre Haute,” seemingly after the town in Indiana — I’ve been there; not a desert — but fair enough for the shove of that track, which on Pi arrives just ahead of closer “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” which builds to a nonetheless-mellow payoff before its fadeout. Elsewhere, the seven-minute “Pierced by the Spear” drops Sleepy (and thus Sabbathian) references in the guitar ahead of creating a duly stonerly lumber before they even unfurl the first verse — a little more in keeping with the kind of riff celebration one might expect going in — but even there, the band maintain a thread of purposeful songcraft that can only continue to serve them as they move past this Argonauta-delivered debut and continued to grow. There is a notable sense of outreach here, though, and in writing to genre, Big Muff Brigade show both their love of what they do and a will to connect with likeminded audiences.
Posted in Reviews on December 9th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Before Show
Hey, who wants to talk about the weather? I do. It’s fuggin’ cold. End of conversation.
Live on the scene! Sitting in the car. 43 years old.
Unless my plans change, this will be the last show I attend in 2024, and it’s one I arrive at (existentially at least) with some urgency. Mars Red Sky and Howling Giant were on tour together this past summer — this site co-presented the run — but the East Coast portion of the run got delayed and pushed to December. They started last night in Baltimore, I think, and thereby picked up Black Lung, also playing tonight.
But the reason behind the urgency is two albums: Mars Red Sky’s Dawn of the Dusk (review here) and Howling Giant’s Glass Future (review here). Both were among my favorite releases of 2023, and I mention that not just to drop the link like whoops could you click that thanks, but also to emphasize that now’s the time. Now’s the time to see these bands for these records that, seriously, I had on last week apropos of nothing. Just for enjoyment. I want to see these bands playing this material now. So I’m here.
And not to leave them out, only didn’t factor in from the start because they were added later. Their last album, Dark Waves (review here), came out on Heavy Psych Sounds in 2022 and was a big step in their progression and a first with a new lineup. They’re the only band on this bill I’ve never seen. They factor.
This will be my first time at TV Eye — which I’ve already learned today is about as far from my house as Philadelphia, if we’re counting by time in the car; circa two and a half hours — but I’ve been curious to see it and the occasion is right. I’ll go inside in a bit, and break it down by band from there, looking like an asshole all the while as I type on my phone.
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Black Lung
Haven’t they always had a progressive streak, and a bluesy streak, a thrashy riff here and there? Maybe, but this was the first time Black Lung took all that, rolled it into a ball of heavy darkpsych groove and threw it in the general direction of my head. Turns out I’d been looking forward to seeing them even more than I thought, not the least for the soul. On my head they’re a newish band, but the reality of them on stage — and actual time — says otherwise, even if this was a partially-remade lineup. Like their records, they were both emotionally demonstrative and Elias Schutzman is a master heavy drummer. They plugged an album to come next year and played a fair amount of new material, including the finale “Traveler,” of due breadth and movement. Maybe they’re shifting toward a darker, heavier kind of prog? Then “Traveler” brings out sun. So this is Black Lung. They are more their own thing now in my mind than they’ve ever been. It makes more sense in color, somehow. Note to future self to sit with that record when the time comes.
Howling Giant
What glee. I might’ve been the last one in the room to see Howling Giant this album cycle — they were in Brooklyn earlier this year with The Obsessed and Gozu; I had some valid excuse beyond stoned laziness — as they for sure were a known quantity in the room. And my goodness, they were electrifying. They launched with “Siren Song” and “Hawk in a Hurricane” one into the next, and that was super-fun and my neck will be sore tomorrow. They had some of what guitarist/vocalist Tom Polzine — who nails both guitar face and power stance because he does it from the heart, dammit — called ‘adventure’ in Sebastian Baltes’ bass cutting out and breaking a guitar string, but Baltes and drummer/backing vocalist Zach Wheeler hold down a duo low end stoner jam for just a gosh darn minute while Polzine went to grab a different guitar and the bass came back on quick both times, so there was no sense of tragedy about it. I really, really wanted to see Howling Giant, and they delivered more than I’d hoped for. “Glass Future” and “Sunken City” closed, and between, they played their newly-reissued-for-its-10th-anniversary debut EP in full — “Camel Crusher” still lands — and “Comet Rider” besides. They were a blast and there was still another band I really like playing after them. Why don’t I do this every day?
Mars Red Sky
Speaking of adventure. It was a definite shift in vibe to go from Howling Giant tearing into “Sunken City” to Mars Red Sky’s “Slow Attack,” which lives up to the billing of its title, but 30 seconds later, the Bordeaux trio had both leveled and melted the room, and atmosphere was not in short supply. With the night indeed was three-for-three on killer drummers, with MatGaz making the massive to tone of guitarist/vocalist Julien Pras and bassist/vocalist Jimmy Kinast — the two shared vocal duties much more than last time I saw them, and it worked well, most notably on “The Final Round” from Dawn of the Dusk, and even MatGaz had a mic for parts of “Apex III” — move, whether it was a roll or a turn to something more angular. “The Light Beyond” from 2014’s Stranded in Arcadia (discussed here, review here) was a highlight, as was “Maps of Inferno” with Pras doing his own vocal interpretation of the verses Helen Ferguson aka Queen of the Meadow sings on the record, and when they capped the set with “Strong Reflection” from their 2011 self-titled debut (review here, discussed here) there was just about nothing else I’d have asked of the night except perhaps the proverbial “one more song.” No encore. I think another show was rolling in after, so fair enough. I had two people come up to me and tell me I introduced them to the band. That was really nice to hear. I was just happy to see them since it had been so long, and as they hit into “Strong Reflection” I couldn’t help but remember that The Patient Mrs. saw them before I did (review here) in 2012. That made me smile. So did the entire set.
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The satnav took me back across Manhattan from the Midtown Tunnel. It seemed like a trap, and it was. I sat for an hour trying to get out of town via the Lincoln. No clue what was going on at the Holland or up at the Bridge. I just sat there, drank some water that I brought with me, and waited. It was not as relaxing as it sounds, but I don’t regret having carted myself to Brooklyn for this one. Now I’ve been to TV Eye — aesthetic is new American old-timey; it’ll wear in; the sound is great and the lighting isn’t exclusively terrible — and I knew this show was something I needed to see. I’ll continue to be glad I did.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 6th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Caught Between Worlds turned 20 this year. A decade prior to its 2004 release through At a Loss Recordings, Philadelphia instrumentalists Stinking Lizaveta were putting together their first demos, so if we’re talking anniversaries, the band being 30 years old certainly warrants note. Their first album, the Steve Albini-produced Hopelessness and Shame, was came out in 1996. This was their fourth, following behind 2001’s III, which came out via Tolotta Records (run by Joe Lally of Fugazi), and the first of three that the lineup of guitarist Yanni Papadopoulos, bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta would do for At a Loss, which in a catalog of nine full-lengths and various splits and 7″s is a long as they’ve stayed with anybody. Hazards of this level of restlessness, perhaps.
And as for that level? Call it “characteristic,” though the persona of the band is something that’s evolved into itself over time as well. From a punkier, rawer foundation, Stinking Lizaveta have evolved a studio ideal of performance as a moral ethic. True to the very tail end of the CD era, it runs 61 minutes long and features 16 tracks, most under four minutes each. It shifts from place to place and its slowdowns don’t so much feel like they’re there to let the listener catch up as to throw down a gauntlet of instrumentalism. Stinking Lizaveta even two decades ago were no less clear in their purposes than the paragons of sans-vocals heavy riffing, Karma to Burn, but the Philly trio’s structures are quirkier, the turns brazenly angular, the stops and starts willfully unpredictable. The tense chugging and crashes of “I Denounce the Government” — at least as relevant in 2024 as 2004 — unfold with their own language of squeals in Yanni‘s guitar, answering the twisted depths conjured by Alexi‘s bass at the finish of “Beyond the Shadows” with a more animalian howl than the riffer title-track provided in the wistful melody of its shred and ensuing doomly march.
Parts are fast, parts are slow, ideas take shape in and around building cycles of riffs and are soon vaporized by impulsive-but-not-random redirects. “Out of Breath” seeming to hit a wall before pivoting to a creep before it’s halfway though, “Over the Edge” proffering a jammier, open and melancholic jazz fluidity, less manic than the crux of the record from which it comes but essential to it just the same, “Staying Here” getting its own acoustic intro before unfurling a Southern-style nostalgic sentiment, gradually flowing into improv-sounding meander but managing not to lose the plot by the finish, and so on. The focus throughout is less on atmosphere than one might expect having heard their more recent output — last year’s Anthems and Phantoms(review here) was born of the same roots as Caught Between Worlds, but the band have never stopped evolving or exploring — but the trade for that is a markedly live feel in the sound resulting from Ben Danaher and Joe Smiley‘s recording and mix, and Caught Between Worlds conveys its vitality in a way that, if it wasn’t all tracked with everyone in the same room playing at the same time, having that musical conversation and shaping the dynamic as it happened, is perhaps doubly impressive for sounding so much like it.
Granted this wasn’t a new band at the time — four records in 10 years isn’t nothing, however much they’ve done since — but in both their connections to punk in the drums, to jazz in the bass and to classic heavy rock via the guitar, the deep individualism of their writing style, and the verve with which even the urbane, largely mellow “Someone’s Downstairs” seems to soundtrack an invisible cartoon of someone walking tiptoe carrying a lamp with their shadow projected on the wall behind them — did it just move on its own? — is palpable and defining. Parts are fast, parts are slow, as noted, but Stinking Lizaveta remain unflinchingly themselves. It is a combination of elements that works simply because it does, and in the frenetic elbow-thrower “Stop Laughing” and the chunkier-style groove of “Last Wish” — still a live staple — and the greater tonal threat issued by “Side Naked,” which is even more striking for the human voice captured in its sample, the chemistry is plain to hear. It’s not about showing off, or maybe it is just a little, but each piece of Caught Between Worlds brings something to the complex picture of the whole.
That’s going to be most heard by those who put something into it. That is to say, Stinking Lizaveta have never been light on challenge when it comes to listening, and Caught Between Worlds — which front-to-back does what it says in presenting the band as drawing strength from existing in the spaces betwixt one style and another — is no exception, either in runtime or the various shifts in sound, tempo and mood put forth. They bring it back to ground near the finish for “Day of Dust” after “Someone’s Downstairs,” “Staying Here” (plus its intro) and the prior “Prayer for the Living” push into various oddball niches, and “Man Day” provides an insistent finish that feels well placed in providing a convincing closing argument. The more you put into it attention-wise, the more you’re going to get out of it, but as dug in as the band are throughout, it’s accordingly an easier dive for the listener to make at the outset, and once you’re in it, you might as well forget whatever else you had on for the day as you’ll be too busy trying to convince your head to stop spinning to get anything else done. This might make it distracting if you’re not committed to giving their songs the attention due, but if you can get on board, Stinking Lizaveta are good for the soul in a way few acts could ever hope to be and many don’t care enough to try to become. I promise you this is restorative music.
I already mentioned it, but the band’s latest LP, Anthems and Phantoms, is hardly a distant memory. I was lucky enough to catch them over the summer in Germany at Freak Valley (review here), and to absolutely no surprise, they were stellar. If you can see them, do. If not, they’ve got nine records for your plunge. Do it up.
Good luck, and as always, I hope you enjoy this one. Thanks for reading.
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I was back and forth on whether to close out the week — it’s after noon now, which is later in the day than I’d prefer to be doing so, for sure — but I won’t regret it. In like an hour and a half I’m going to leave the comfort of my home and drive to I-don’t-know-where in Brooklyn to the TV Eye venue, try to find a place to park for however many hours and sit in my car rather than wait to drive in. I’m doing this because traffic and because it’s that much easier to get out of the house before school pickup, which is a little after 3. Traffic’s going to suck either way; going in or coming out of New York, that’s just a condition of life, but yeah. It’s Mars Red Sky and Howling Giant, and I swore up and down I was going, and I want to go, so I am.
The intervening time I’ll spend at least part of putting together the back end of the Quarterly Review I’ll be doing next week. Sneaking one in before year-end list time, and absolutely part of that is me trying to keep up with releases before I close out the year around here. It’s just one week — 50 releases, as opposed to 110, which we did, I don’t know, like four weeks ago, maybe? — but there’s some good stuff in there from the whole year, in addition to new releases. Things like Gnome, Fuzz Sagrado, Hermano, Thou, Sergeant Thunderhoof, Cortez (which I wrote the bio for but haven’t reviewed yet) Cosmic Fall and Coltaine — I don’t want to let these slip before 2025 hits and I start yet another year of listening at a deficit. Not that music has an expiration date, not that any of it matters in the first place, blah blah you get the point.
But doing the QR next week will help me finalize the shape of my own year-end list, and I’d feel awfully triumphant if I could get that out the week before the Xmas holiday — when I’ll almost certainly have a ton of other crap going on — rather than the week of. There was one year it was Xmas Eve it went up, which is ridiculous. I’ll do my best, but while I’m working on that it means I’ll be doing fewer reviews, so yeah, having just banged out 50 and needing to get caught up on news anyway — there was so much this week; anyone remember when the music industry shut down in December? — should put me in good position to start wrapping my head around what I think are the best releases of the year. I also feel like I need a special section to mention that I haven’t heard either the Opeth or the Blood Incantation records, but I can plot all that out as I get closer.
So that’s the plan for the rest of the month. Quarterly Review, list as soon as I can and whatever news and reviews I can fill in around it. There are less premieres, which is fine. That frees me up to chase down stuff on my own rather than follow what comes in for PR pitches, and that’s not a hardship when there’s a lot to do. If I get through it in a timely manner — I never know how much I have to say until I start saying it with these things, and sometimes it’s a lot — and have the week of New Year’s open, I’ll see where I’m at and what I want to do writing-wise with that time. I’ll do as much as I can, when I can. If you see me in my car this afternoon in Brooklyn typing out a 180-word review of the new Space Shepherds outing, perhaps you’ll have some semblance of the truth of that.
Whatever you’re up to this weekend — 16 are also in town but I can’t commit to driving to the city twice given how much I both hate it, it takes time away from duties at home, and I have a fair amount of travel set for the end of next month; Morris County, North Jersey needs a 200-cap venue on the underground circuit so god damn bad; anyone want to open one with me? — I hope you have a great and safe time. Have fun, maybe relax a bit, and enjoy the break if you get one. I’ll have the review of tonight up either over the weekend or on Monday, depending on when I have time to sort photos. Ugh, photos.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 6th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
As first confirmed last month with the announcement of the UK and Ireland dates below, Brant Bjork Trio will continue to support their new album, Once Upon a Time in the Desert (review here) — issued through Bjork‘s reinvigorated imprint Duna Records — by taking it to the stage. Following up on the January/February run abroad, a US tour will pick up on March 7, one day short of a month from the last UK date in London, and loop the three-piece of Bjork, bassist Mario Lalli and drummer Ryan Güt through the upper Midwest, the Northeast, and back into the Midwest to finish in Chicago on March 22.
Keeping busy, then. That was the theme for the Trio‘s 2024 as well. I was fortunate enough to see them in Budapest (review here) before the record came out, and man, what a party that was — and no, not just because it was on a boat. Playing songs from Brant Bjork‘s unparalleled catalog in desert rock, they brought new material and old to life in a way that dared the audience not to boogie, and sure enough, the crowd I was in couldn’t resist. Not the first time, hopefully won’t be the last, and if you’re someplace where they’re going to be, you likely don’t need me to tell you it’s an occasion worth showing up for. At least you can make your plans early.
Dates follow here for both tours, as yoinked from socials:
BRANT BJORK TRIO – UK & IRELAND TOUR – JANUARY / FEBRUARY 2025
FRI 24 JAN: THE CRAUFURD ARMS, MILTON KEYNES, UK SAT 25 JAN: REBELLION, MANCHESTER, UK SUN 26 JAN: THE CLUNY, NEWCASTLE, UK MON 27 JAN: AUDIO, GLASGOW, UK WED 29 JAN: GRAND SOCIAL, DUBLIN, IRE THU 30 JAN: LIMELIGHT 2, BELFAST, N. IRE FRI 31 JAN: SIN CITY, SWANSEA, UK SAT 01 FEB: MAMA ROUX’S, BIRMINGHAM, UK SUN 02 FEB: STRANGE BREW, BRISTOL, UK MON 03 FEB: BRUDENELL SOCIAL CLUB, LEEDS, UK TUE 04 FEB: WATERFRONT STUDIO, NORWICH, UK WED 05 FEB: THE FORUM, TUNBRIDGE WELLS, UK THU 06 FEB: THE 1865, SOUTHAMPTON, UK FRI 07 FEB: THE ARCH, BRIGHTON, UK SAT 08 FEB: OSLO, LONDON, UK
03.07 Kansas City MO Record Bar 03.08 Minneapolis MN Turf Club 03.09 Milwaukee WI Shank Hall 03.10 Grand Rapids MI Pyramid Scheme 03.11 Columbus OH King of Clubs 03.12 Youngstown OH Westside Bowl 03.13 Baltimore MD Metro Gallery 03.14 New Hope PA John & Peter’s 03.15 Brooklyn NY TV Eye 03.16 Providence RI Alchemy 03.19 Detroit MI Small’s 03.20 Newport KY Southgate House 03.21 Louisville KY Portal+Artportal 03.22 Chicago IL Reggies
The Brant Bjork Trio: Brant Bjork – guitar/vocals Mario Lalli – bass Ryan Güt – drums
