I’ve found the Italian psychedelic scene a curiosity for a while now, as it seems the lineage from early prog/acid acts like Paul Chain has bred out in multiple directions to a vast array of styles, from the straightforward fuzz rock of Black Rainbows to the megadoom of Ufomammut. Brought to my attention by Obelisk attendee and Misfits überfan Kieps, the band Zippo seem to incorporate all the elements their countrymen have each based a band on within a single sound.

The miracle in that is they come out of it with something cohesive. Zippo formed in 2004 (practically forever ago by now), and have played with the lines of Brant Bjork, Stonebride and Witchcraft, as well as having a slot at the 2009 Stoned Hand of Doom fest in Roma alongside such luminaries as The Heads, Obiat and Serpentcult. Not too shabby by any measure.

But more important is the sound. While they began under the guise of stoner rock, the material on their Subsound Records debut, The Road to Knowledge proves much more diverse, at least going by the tracks on their MySpace. They claim to have taken inspiration from Carlos Castaneda‘s The Teachings of Don Juan, and whatever birthed it, their heady, conscious rock is bound to pique the interest of any open-minded listener. And who knows, maybe a few of the other kind too.

I’m running on limited time today because it’s the start of the Spring semester and I’ve got class later on in Newark. I’m taking more classes this time around than I did in the fall, and from what I can tell, it’s going to be an assload of reading and writing (not much arithmetic, fortunately), but of course this site remains basically tops as far as priorities go.

Nonetheless, it’s a busy day. I’m down at Rutgers New Brunswick (AKA The Patient Mrs.’ Rutgers, as opposed to my mine back north), for the moment, soon to head back up 287 or the Turnpike or whatever. Sharing a vehicle because I don’t yet have mine back from the dealer following the whole key/toilet thing. The campus here is abuzz with youngins, as you’d expect the first week, though with the weather as it is — another balmy January day — the mood is alright. I’m schoolboy nervous for the start of my classes, but that’s no different than ever.

A beautiful Muslim girl wearing a headscarf to my left enjoys an Au Bon Pan sandwich with her boyfriend and a punker chick walks by outside in a notice-me hat and big sunglasses, leaving me to ruminate on whose lifestyle is more restrictive. We all live by one dogma or another.

Not much of a transition, I know, but Witch have a new video for the song “Mutated” to be chewed on. Those hoping to spot J. Mascis, he’s not there. That’s Mario Rubalcaba of Earthless on drums. You might also notice new Witch member Graham Clise of Annihilation Time on guitar. Seems like they’re quickly becoming a Tee Pee Records supergroup. Enjoy the video:

They say there are all kinds of ways to learn things. Some learn by audio cues — people telling them things. These are usually the people who do well in school. Some learn visually, by reading or by seeing something acted out. They also get the passing grades. Some learn in different measure of the two, and some learn by experience. This one’s for you visual learners.

Saint Vitus are headed to Europe for most of next month, so make your travel plans now. I had thought The Gates of Slumber were going to be on this tour as well, and I know from my interview with frontman Karl Simon that they were looking forward to it, so whatever the circumstances that led to their not being able to do the shows, that’s a bit of a bummer. Centurion’s Ghost are a suitable fit, though, and will no doubt be well received by both their UK and continental brethren. Here’s the flier:

I guess when you tour as constantly as Black Cobra, even the most trivial of actions become potential shows. What’s next, guys? Gonna do an in-store at Ralph’s when you go to pick up a half-gallon of milk?

[Note: Black Cobra only buy half-gallons of milk because they’re never off the road long enough to drink a full one.]

Metal’s true road dogs offer this update via the PR wire:

In celebration of the vinyl release of their latest album, Chronomega, gruesome twosome Black Cobra will punish several California record stores with several in-store performances early this February. This is not only a great opportunity to get the mammoth new album on wax, but also to see the band for free in an intimate yet primal setting, for free!

2/05/2010 Amoeba Records – San Francisco, CA @ 6pm
2/09/2010 r5 records – Sacramento, CA @ 6pm
2/10/2010 Street Light Records – San Jose, CA @ 4pm
2/11/2010 Street Light Records – Santa Cruz, CA @ 4pm
2/13/2010 Thirsty Moon – San Diego, CA @ 6pm
2/14/2010 Vacation – Los Angeles, CA @ 5pm

The vinyl release of Chronomega will also include the band’s cover of Buzzov*en‘s “Behaved,” previously only available on the Japanese release of the CD, via Daymare Records. It will be pressed on 180-gram wax, the first pressing forged in several limited color schemes (800 red/yellow splatter, 500 black, 200 red/black swirl). Chronomega is Black Cobra‘s Southern Lord Recordings debut.

Despite the fun-loving feel of the music — like retro ‘60s pop rock gone warm fuzz with an ear for well-placed solos and grooves — the lyrics and themes of Stockholm five-piece Dexter Jones’ Circus Orchestra’s third album, If Light Can’t Save Us, I Know Darkness Will (Fuzzorama), are almost unremittingly bleak, and that bleakness is mostly self-directed. On opener “If Bars Could Bend,” we’re treated to the line, “I am a great shadow in your life, I bring you down/ I try to make it all good, but my words drown.” On centerpiece and Thin Lizzy-fied album highlight “Little Man,” we get “I need to kill what I’ve become/A dirty fly on golden grain,” and even on the more outward closer “Sad World,” the attitude is still much the same: “We’re sliding down the hole/Somebody save our souls.”

It’s an oppressive attitude that, if you weren’t paying attention to what you were hearing, you might just glance past and miss entirely because the music hardly feels mired in the same way at all. Even a cut like “Mentally Insane,” which shows up later on If Light Can’t Save Us, I Know Darkness Will, and is maybe a little darker sounding musically is nowhere near as dreary in guitar, bass and drums as it is vocally. The dual nature of the release can be looked at one of two ways: it’s either incongruous or really interesting. Maybe it can be a bit of both.

The upbeat country licking in the verses of “Sad World” just don’t match the words, but in a way that makes you wonder why. It’s obvious the band — which now includes Josiah’s Mat Bethancourt in its ranks and worked closely on this album with guitarist Jimmy Ågren — would know that going into the album, so what are they trying to say? Is it supposed to be a sign of hope or a post-modern dance party at the end of the world? Hey, we’re all going over anyway, might as well sing on our way down the falls, right?

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What Los Angeles rockers Sasquatch do with III is fuse the unmitigated fuzz stonerism of their first, self-titled album, with the classic feel of its 2006 follow-up, II, resulting in a brand of rock as much indebted to Grand Funk as Fu Manchu. III doesn’t even immediately strike as a stoner rock record, with opener “Get out of Here” (as in, “I gotta…”) based on a solid groove, but executed in a manner thoroughly modern despite any Southern rock influence. Highlight cuts “Pull Me Under,” “Burning Bridges” and the more boogieing “Walkin’ Shoes” follow likewise patterns, but somehow remain definitively stoner rock. The only answer is that Sasquatch are reshaping the genre to suit their needs.

“Pull Me Under” (thankfully not a Dream Theater cover) rocks slower than either the riffy and catchy “Complicated” or the chunkier, Helmet-style starts and stops of “Soul Shaker,” and with no shortage of character. Immediately following “Get out of Here,” “Took Me Away” centers around a bluesy riff executed with more than a little fuzz grown in. There’s more going on with III than fuzz and riffs though. Guitarist/vocalist Keith Gibbs is definitely at the center of the proceedings, but bassist Cas and drummer Rick Ferrante push the songs onto another level entirely, adding personality and well-placed flourishes to the material that prove both memorable and exciting to the ear.

If anything, I’d like to hear Gibbs take similar liberties with his material. Why not throw a quick squibbly lead line in between two verse riffs? It’s long since clear by the time the record’s back half opens with the acoustic-based Monster Magnetry of “New Disguise” that Sasquatch have a talent for arrangement waiting to be put to use, but there are moments of III that seem to be calling for a playfulness of which the band mostly steers clear. Fortunately, there’s enough rock to go around on a mid-paced groover like “Queen” that these are at best momentary distractions. And though I don’t want to tell Sasquatch how to run their band or anything, they could easily milk that guitar solo in “Queen” for another 17 minutes or so. Just saying.

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Normally, I’d post the live dates here, but since I received an email directing me to West Virginia instrumetallers Karma to Burn‘s brandy-new website, I figured I’d pass along the info that way and allow others to discover the wheres and whens of the reunited trio’s latest European jaunt as I did. In case you missed it, Karma to Burn‘s Live 2009 — Reunion Tour DVD is out now thanks to Napalm Records.

Karma to Burn on the series of tubes.

After liberally throwing out a bunch of, “See you tomorrow night”-esque promises to folks I knew at the Starlight Ballroom in Philly and telling myself that Sunday would be my chance to not be a total jackass, I was really looking forward to the show in New York. A couple friends were in from Michigan and we were meeting up for a couple beers beforehand. Sitting around, listening to Lucifer’s Friend, talking about music and whatever else, it was all going pretty much as planned.

Then I flushed my car keys down my buddy’s toilet.

Yup, same guy to whom the night before I’d been such a prick. I was using his bathroom, and when I leaned in to flush, my car keys (there was nothing on the keychain but the key and the remote, so it was small), fell out of my hoodie pocket, into the swirling water, and before I knew it, were gone.

I stood there and looked at the empty toilet for about two solid minutes, and said to myself, “I’m going to have to go into the next room now and say that I flushed my car keys down the toilet.” And that’s just what I did.

I have a lifelong history of half-self-caused/half-bad-luck buffoonery. To the best of my knowledge, there isn’t one single word in the English language that means, “I’m an idiot, but not everything is completely my fault.” The Germans probably have one, but if they do, it’s probably just five other words put together, so maybe that doesn’t count.

My buddy, his wife, another friend and the out of towners offered an appropriate mixture of sympathy and joshing, and I’m glad to say that at least for everyone else, the jovial mood didn’t seem completely spoiled. When you flush your keys down the toilet, you take comfort in what you can.

Of course, they were the only set of keys, save for the valet key, which was locked inside the car. A complex series of phone calls to The Patient Mrs. and AAA later, it was painfully apparent there was no way I was making it to B.B. King’s to see The Gates of Slumber and Pentagram again. The tow truck driver came and got the car unlocked, setting the piercing alarm off several times in the process, I got the valet key, put the car in neutral, and got it towed to the dealership, where as of Tuesday morning and this post, it’s still residing.

Not only did I not see Pentagram, but my lack of vehicle prevented me from fulfilling a promise to show my support for local bros Alkahest at Precious Metal at Lit Lounge last night. Wow, maybe I’m just an asshole all the time and my flashes of good nature are nothing more than blind self-perception. Quite a journey of discovery this series of “reviews” has turned out to be.

I figure I’m in the hole about $300 for the new key and remote, because it’s a Volvo and you can’t fart in that car without it costing you at least $300. Fortunately, The Patient Mrs. took a “Shit happens, and no, the universe is not out to get you” position on the matter, and though I stand by my position to the semi-contrary — namely that not only is the universe out to get me, but I’m willing to help it every chance I get — survival seems imminent. Dignity was a farce anyway.