I woke up at the hotel in Philadelphia yesterday late, after a disturbing dream of a sexual nature and saw, in the angled mirrors of the bathroom, the burgeoning bald spot on the back of my head for the first time. That was a bit of a bummer, but the day picked up from there. I was ridiculously, laughably exhausted after night one of the Small Stone showcase at The M-Room, but with one more night to go, it wasn’t quite time to punch/crash out yet.

Taking the bus down for the day, The Patient Mrs. met me in town (this weekend is our wedding anniversary) and we loafed around for a bit before eventually settling in to do some work, and then eventually I dropped her off at the 30th St. Station, so she could head back north and I could run over to the venue for the start of the show. I’ll confess that despite having seen the Brian Mercer poster above on more than one occasion, I didn’t even remember who was first on the bill, so when I walked in, it was a bit of a surprise to hear Ironweed playing.

We’ll begin with that:

Ironweed: Of all the acts on the Small Stone roster, they’re probably the one I’m the least a fan of, but I’ll hand it to the Upstate New Yorker double-guitar four-piece anyway and say they were tight as hell. Their stuff is just on the other side of commercially accessible from what I really get down with, but they do it well, and though I haven’t listened to their Your World of Tomorrow album since I reviewed it back in April, I still recognized some of the songs from it. That alone should say something about the strength of their songwriting, wherever how they use it might lie on the spectrum of my personal taste.

The Might Could: Don’t even like Pantera anymore. Despite not being able to stand too close to the stage on account of the formidable body odor emitting therefrom, The Might Could were loud enough that I could’ve probably sat on the on-ramp to I-95 a few miles down the road and still heard them. Both guitarists/vocalists Erik Larson and TJ Childers played through full  stacks, and though I think going on earlier didn’t necessarily suit the band’s performance — bassist Rob Gouldman (ex-Lord) mentioned from the stage several times they wanted drink tickets — they killed. There should’ve been more people there to see it, but the songs, the tones, the mix of Southern, stoner and sludge made The Might Could‘s set stand out. They were loose and clearly wanted to be that way, but sounded even fuller live than they did on their self-titled, and Ryan Wolfe started off a string of insanely good drumming that lasted the rest of the night.

Throttlerod: Kevin White continued that string that Ryan Wolfe started, and added a more technical sense to it, some theory to go with the speed. There were different styles throughout the evening, and with people doing different things musically, it’s hard to say who was the best, but White was up there, whatever metric you might want to use. Aside from rocking, Throttlerod‘s set was fascinating because of the noisy course the band’s sound has taken over their last couple records, Nail (2006) and Pig Charmer (2009). Seeing northerners take on a Southern aesthetic is nothing new, but the Virginian three-piece — which as of Pig Charmer featured Brooklyn-based bassist Andrew Schneider, also engineer and co-founder of Coextinction Recordings, who was absent — have gone the opposite route, adopting a start-stop crunch that’s straight out of the classic Amphetamine Reptile playbook. With guitarist/vocalist Matt Whitehead adding melody vocally, it’s a distinctive mix.

Gozu: Their spot on the bill was a clear indication that Scott Hamilton, owner of Small Stone Records, wanted to feature them to the crowd. Otherwise, Throttlerod has been around much longer and The Might Could, though a relatively new band, have added clout owing to their pedigree (Childers plays drums in Inter Arma, Ryan Wolfe was signed to Relapse with Facedowninshit and Erik Larson was in Alabama Thunderpussy), but to Gozu‘s credit, they earned their spot. One of the best aspects of their 2010 Small Stone debut, Locust Season, was the vocals of guitarist Marc Gaffney, and on stage at The M-Room proved no different. Locust Season flew under a lot of people’s radar, I guess because it seems like Gozu came out of nowhere with it, but the record was really strong, and the memorability of the songs held up. Gaffney, playing through a custom Matamp (I think) with “GAFF” on the faceplate, was joined on guitar by Doug Sherman, whose high-slung guitar, angled ballcap and stage demeanor was right out of the New England hardcore scene birthed in Gozu‘s Boston home. Still, with the two guitarists, it was bassist Paul Dallaire‘s low end that dominated the live mix, and coupled with Barry Spillberg‘s intimidating performance on drums, there was no question the band was where they belonged. They played a new song — I believe Sherman said it was called “Bald Bull” (the referential title would be befitting their modus) — that speaks well of what’s to come on their next album.

The Brought Low: Like Suplecs and Lo-Pan the night before, it was my second time in a week seeing Small Stone‘s NYC contingent trio. Their set was mostly the same as it had been in Brooklyn, but at the behest of Hamilton, they also included “Vernon Jackson” from 2006’s Right on Time, which happens also to be one of my favorite songs of theirs. Still, it was the ultra-catchy “The Kelly Rose” from their aptly-titled third record, Third Record, that I walked out of The M-Room singing under my breath at the end of the night. Nick Heller continued the night of 1,000 tom hits, and Bob Russell and Ben Smith did right by material both new and old. “Army of Soldiers” was again a killer inclusion, and though it was enjoyable on their Coextinction EP, I hope it winds up on their next album, because it’s worth highlighting and pressing to disc. They had a couple classic Brought Low barn-burners going, and that was right up there with any of them. It wasn’t like I was dying to hear those songs because it had been so long since I’d seen the band, but The Brought Low never fail to please, and Philly was no exception. They tossed around a few joshing Civil War references (a new shirt features the visage of Ulysses S. Grant) in the direction of The Might Could, and it was another enjoyable — day I say “fun?” — set from a rock band in total command of their style and playing.

Roadsaw: They were simply too big for the stage they were playing on. It was my first time seeing the mainstay Boston foursome of vocalist Craig Riggs, bassist Tim Catz, guitarist Ian Ross and drummer Jeremy Hemond since the release of their self-titled back in January, and the quality of those songs was palpable standing in the crowd, much of which had stayed late. There was a second or two there where I thought Riggs — who is a madman on stage — was going to fall right off, and likewise where I thought the microphone which he spins from the cable, was going to pop off the cord and hit someone in the head. Neither happened and the excitement was located entirely within the set, which is fortunate at least from an injury perspective. It was approaching 2AM, which was closing time for The M-Room, so they clipped a few songs off the top. Riggs said after they were done that they prefer it that way anyhow, short and sweet, and I didn’t hear anyone else complaining. Since coming back to active duty with 2008’s See You in Hell!, Roadsaw have emerged as being among a small number of masters of the heavy rock form, and between the Roadsaw record and the showing they gave in Philly, I’d say that anyone across the Atlantic who happens to catch them on their upcoming run with Dixie Witch and Sasquatch would be lucky to do so. A near-perfect combination of energy and experience, and probably the most fitting end the Small Stone showcase could’ve had short of a Halfway to Gone reunion. It was right on right from the start.

But when it was over, it was nigh on ridiculous o’clock, and with the two-hours northbound ahead of me, I made a quick exit and beeline back to the car. I managed to cut some time off the trip (am I the only person who races to shave minutes off their GPS?) and, by some amazing coincidence, fell into bed just in time to completely conk out. It was a hell of a week, and a hell of a weekend, but it capped just right. I won’t be able to make the Chicago showcase next weekend, but it’s Freedom Hawk, Gozu, Sasquatch, Backwoods Payback, Lo-Pan and Suplecs on Oct. 1, so if you can make it, consider this post and yesterday’s a hearty recommendation to do so.

Thanks to Scott Hamilton and all the bands for making it a killer time, and to The Patient Mrs. for being the kind of lady who doesn’t mind it when she calls her husband to say happy seventh anniversary and The Brought Low is rocking in the background.

More pictures after the jump.

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I don’t know if being so late to Kyuss Lives! the other night made me more in a hurry to get to The M-Room for the start of the Small Stone Records showcase in the Philadelphia Film and Music Festival or not, but considering that it took me an hour to go seven exits sound on the Garden State Parkway, I was glad to have allotted myself the extra time. It being my second time in Philadelphia in a week, the drive was familiar, and once I got on the Turnpike, not bad in terms of traffic, but it was moot anyway, since (as I found out upon arrival) the first band wasn’t going on until 8:30 or so.

There were a couple years there where I never missed a Small Stone showcase at SXSW in Austin, Texas. It was 2004-2007, and I still consider those to be some of the best shows I’ve ever seen. Memories of those days and nights (hazy at times) came back throughout the course of the evening, but it was a different kind of vibe altogether in Philly. The M-Room is a small place, essentially a bar split in half with a pub on one side and the venue on the other. The space where the bands play is rectangular, and the stage has a kind of divot cut out the right side. For being small though, it’s got decent sound, as I found out earlier this year when I drove down to see Lo-Pan and Backwoods Payback do a show together.

Both of those bands played last night, as did Virginian rockers Freedom Hawk, New Orleanian mainstays Suplecs, and my current home-state heroes, Infernal Overdrive, who kicked off the night. Their set seems as good a place to start the notes as any, so here goes:

Infernal Overdrive: They’re Jersey‘s rock hope. They don’t yet have a record out (it’s reportedly being mastered), but I’ve heard some of the tracks, and if their live show is anything to go by, the thing is going to smoke. Fronted by the classic rock charisma of Marc Schleicher (ex-Cracktorch), they were perfect to start the night off, and their album has quickly become an anticipated release for 2012. As drummer Mike Bennett launched into a solo toward the end of their set, Schleicher — whose brother Keith more than ably rounds out the rhythm section on bass — jumped off the stage and danced his way through the crowd like a stoner rock James Brown. I’ve seen him do it before, but it’s awesome to watch someone have so much fun making good music, and with the show-stopping lead work of guitarist Rich Miele, Infernal Overdrive‘s potential was practically dripping from the ceiling. Killer band. If you don’t know their name yet and you dig the rock, you will.

Freedom Hawk: Hard to argue with straightforward fuzz rock topped with vocals that sound straight off Bark at the Moon, and that’s what Freedom Hawk does best. Their first album, which came out on MeteorCity was a little less realized than the new Holding On, but the four-piece’s development has taken a really interesting course. Like Sheavy before them, they’ve successfully partnered stoner riffing with an early Ozzy Osbourne vocal approach — guitarist T.R. Morton does it really well both live and on record — and their set was strikingly tight. The last time I saw them was a few years back in Manhattan, and they were all around a better band this time, guitarist/bassist brothers Matt and Mark Cave were in tandem enough to underscore the relation, and drummer Lenny Hines very casually kicked ass. Seriously. He was casual about it. I don’t know how else to say it than that.

Lo-Pan: I’ve said an awful lot about Lo-Pan this year, but what struck me most about this set, aside from the fact that I could see Lo-Pan twice in the same week and still be way into it, was “Bird of Prey.” Not three days after seeing Kyuss Lives! do “Supa Scoopa and Mighty Scoop,” and “Bird of Prey” was better. That sounds like hyperbole, but it’s honestly how I feel about it. So much of their material is upbeat, quick — it kind of rushes at you as they play it — and then the big slowdown in “Bird of Prey” is a completely different atmosphere and the hard-touring Ohio foursome have mastered it. Their set, as ever, was a highlight of the night. I don’t even know how many of their shows I’ve caught at this point — frontman Jeff Martin told me before the show started that he’d seen more of me in the last two months than his family — but the songs haven’t lost any of their power for the increasing familiarity, and I find I’m no less excited about Salvador today than I was when I first heard it toward the end of last year. If it wasn’t so much work on the band’s part, you could almost call it magic.

Backwoods Payback: Were the local draw as much as anyone was. The West Chester, PA, two-guitar four-piece play so loose that you think at any point the whole song could just come apart as they play it. What makes them works so well on stage is that it never does, but every time I’ve seen them, it’s looked like the band just wrote these songs an hour ago. They have a freshness and an energy to them, and I’m apparently not the only person who thinks so, as they pulled in the biggest crowd of the night. Of all the bands on Small Stone‘s roster currently (and it’s a packed lineup), I feel like Backwoods Payback could really go anywhere with their sound. They have a kind of country underpinning  that’s bound to poke its head up sooner or later, and frontman Mike Cummings looks ready to break out an acoustic guitar at any moment. They’re a fascinating act to follow, but more than that, their rock is damn heavy. It was a tough spot for them to be sandwiched in between Lo-Pan and Suplecs, but they gave a solid showing, as always.

Suplecs: At one point during their set, Suplecs guitarist Durel Yates made mention of the band’s being used to playing three hours at a clip in New Orleans. Watching them both in Philly and earlier this week in Brooklyn, I believe it. The set they played at The M-Room wasn’t a completely different list of songs, but they definitely took it in a different direction, and where in Brooklyn, I’d been struck by the variety in their material — the jams, the punk, the stoner — last night it was more straight up rocking. “Gotta Pain,” “Stand Alone” and “Tried to Build an Engine” from Mad Oak Redoux were highlights, and they made it readily apparent why they were headlining instead of playing anywhere else on the bill. Having not seen them in at least six years (Tuesday notwithstanding), it was interesting and encouraging to see them as the statesmen of the Small Stone lineup, even though they just put out their first record through the label. They still threw some jams in at the end, and they killed, plain and simple. When they finished, the crowd shouted for one more song, and they delivered yet again. For a band that’s had so much bad luck in their time together — from the dissolution of Man’s Ruin Records just before a European tour to Hurricane Katrina more or less derailing them entirely — you couldn’t help but be glad they were getting their due at The M-Room. Great band. They need to put out another record before half a decade has passed.

I said my goodnights and marched back to my car — parked right outside Kung Fu Necktie about a block away — just in time to see the young woman in parallel parked in front of me back into it. There was no damage, and I’d just gotten a sandwich I was going to have for a late dinner, so I waved her off after only the most cursory of “What the hell?”s and made my way back to the hotel, to futz around with pictures and eventually crash out in anticipation of getting out before noon checkout today. The short version is it worked out.

One more night to go tonight. I’ll have a report at some point tomorrow of tonight’s bands — no later than Monday. For now, there are a few extra pics after the jump, so please, enjoy.

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Some things to note in the Weedeater clip above: First and foremost, that room looks to be about the size of my office. Second, they come out to the theme song from Sanford and Son. Third, there’s a bottle of Robitussin taped to the side of “Dixie” Dave Collins‘ amp with a straw sticking out of it that he drinks from at several intervals, including as they transition from “God Luck and Good Speed” to “Wizard Fight,” when he chases it with what I assume is whiskey.

Another reason I decided to go with Weedeater was because earlier today I did a phone interview with artist Joe Wardwell. Wardwell‘s paintings draw a lot from heavy rock and doom for inspiration and a gallery show he has going on in NYC through October is titled “Untied We Stand” — a line taken from “God Luck and Good Speed” — so the song’s been in my head. I’ll hopefully have that Q&A posted in the next week or two. In the meantime, you can check out Wardwell‘s work here. It rules and the interview was great as well. Dude loves his Boris, loves his Sabbath, loves his Melvins. Right on.

Given all that, I couldn’t possibly have chosen anything else to close out the week — not to mention Weedeater‘s earth-swallowing volume or tonal weight, which is suiting me perfectly on this tired-as-hell Friday afternoon. The reason I’m signing off early (usually I’d wait to cap another ultra-exciting couch-bound Friday night with a post, but it’s about 4PM now) is because I’m heading out in a bit to make my way down to Philadelphia, again, for the start of the Small Stone showcase, which kicks off tonight at The M-Room. I don’t want to miss Infernal Overdrive, and I think they’re opening, so I need to haul ass a bit.

Thanks to everyone for checking in this week. It was crazy on this end, between the Brooklyn show and Kyuss Lives! Wednesday night, and it isn’t over yet. I’ll be in Philly the next two nights, then back to Jersey Sunday to do school work. Next week it starts all over. I do hope to get some more album reviews posted next week, but I’ll be checking out Akris at the Cake Shop in Manhattan on Tuesday, and I hope to get my massive interview with Rwake frontman CT posted, so we’ll see what there’s time for. In the meantime, keep your ears posted for a Windhand stream that’s coming Thursday and hopefully another that I can’t quite reveal just yet in case it falls through.

Some news for The Maple Forum coming soon as well, it looks like.

So big stuff yet to come. Not sure yet how I’m going to handle posting from/about the showcase, but if you check in over the weekend, you might find some stuff on it up.

Either way, great and safe couple days. See you on the forum and back here for more shortly.

Guitarist/vocalist Matt Pike formed High on Fire in 1998. It was about six months after his former outfit — a little group called Sleep — broke up, and together with drummer Des Kensel and bassist George Rice, Pike began to move in a less directly Sabbath-minded direction. The band’s first release came out in the form of a 1999 self-titled EP on 12th Records.

Not only was High on Fire‘s High on Fire the first output from the band, it was also the first 12th Records release. The label, which was and remains the imprint arm of the Electric Amp company, put out High on Fire prior to the band’s signing with Man’s Ruin for their first full-length, 2000’s The Art of Self-Defense.

Of course, High on Fire would go on over the course of subsequent releases on Relapse — 2002’s Surrounded by Thieves, 2005’s Blessed Black Wings and 2007’s Death is this Communion — to come to the forefront of modern metal consciousness, eventually signing with E1 for the release of last year’s Snakes for the Divine, but in 1999, they were still pretty much just Matt Pike‘s new band post-Sleep.

The High on Fire EP isn’t nearly as thrash-laden as the trio’s sound would eventually become, but those elements are there, particularly in Kensel‘s pulsating kick and the way he and Pike interact. George Rice, who would stick around until being replaced by Joe Preston (the Melvins, Thrones) for Blessed Black Wings, offered a stonerly thickness under the guitar solo in “10,000 Years,” and Pike‘s vocals actually find him trying some cleaner singing, which is something he wouldn’t attempt again for some time, instead relying on the rasp that came to typify the band’s first several LPs.

If you can find it, the EP is definitely worth a listen for fans of the band who may have joined up later. There are copies of the CD out there, and I’m told of this new phenomenon called “down-loading” (I may have that wrong) in which computers can be used like record players, but whatever futuristic means you use to acquire it — I was fortunate enough to find it at a semi-reasonable price in physical form — consider it recommended.

All three of these songs — “Blood From Zion,” “10,000 Years” and “Master of Fists” — showed up again on The Art of Self-Defense, but there’s nothing quite like hearing how it was the first time for the first time. If I was Frank Kozik (and I’m not, much to my ongoing disappointment), I’d have signed them too.

Usually, in interviews, there’s a brief bit of smalltalk at the beginning and the end. “Thanks for taking the call,” “Appreciate the time,” and that sort of thing. A question I get asked a lot is, “Hey, are you coming out to X show?” It’s something people ask mostly to be polite.

At the end of our interview, when Swans guitarist/vocalist Michael Gira asked me if I’d be on hand for either the I’ll be Your Mirror fest in Asbury Park that his band is playing or the Brooklyn show preceding, I said I’d like to hit up Brooklyn (to which David Eugene Edwards of Wovenhand has been added for an acoustic set), but that if I did, I’d have to deal with being surrounded by Williamsburg hipsters.

Gira‘s response — without a second of delay or hesitation of any kind — was, “bring a flamethrower.”

Shit you not.

It’s that kind of unbending will for confrontation that’s helped Gira and Swans cast a hugely influential net on underground music, be it Neurosis and the post-metal born in their wake or Godspeed You! Black Emperor and the avant-garde style experimentation they in turn have fostered. Swans are a root band, setting a lineage of distinct and aggressive crescendos. Their music feels like it’s crashing down on you as you listen.

Despite the long break between the studio albums Soundtracks for the Blind (1996) and My Father Will Guide Me up a Rope to the Sky (2010) and Gira‘s shift in direction that took place with the dark acoustic-led Americana of Angels of Light (whose seven-album discography is a beast unto itself), that oppressive feeling has remained consistent. The personnel may have changed — and Gira‘s drive for challenge has led to a sound that’s moving forward rather than trying to harken back to something it would inevitably fail to capture — but new Swans is still Swans.

My Father Will Guide Me up a Rope to the Sky was one of 2010’s densest and most crushing releases, and in the interview below Gira discusses what led him to revive the band, the development of even newer material — some of which has already been recorded — a forthcoming live album, the practicalities involved in putting out music on his own label, Young God Records, the relationship between Swans and Angels of Light and much more.

Complete Q&A is after the jump. Please enjoy.

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It had been my hope to post these Freedom Hawk tour dates earlier in the day, so as to better highlight the fact that their run of shows in support of the righteous and recently-review’d Holding On full-length began tonight with a show with The Atomic Bitchwax and Karma to Burn (also reviewed recently, as it happens) at the Jewish Mother Backstage in Norfolk, Virginia. Well, as I type this, Freedom Hawk is probably done with their set, but if  you missed them tonight, there’s a slew of other killer shows they’re doing where you can make up for it.

Dig the informative nature of this poster — IF YOU DARE!

As I made my way into the Trocadero on Philadelphia‘s Arch Street (apparently right in Chinatown), I asked the mostly-disinterested girl working the ticket window if anyone had gone on yet. Her eyes lit up and she said, “Everyone but Kyuss!” It was a little before 8:45PM.

I didn’t remember having been at the Trocadero before until I saw the place, then flashes of Fireball Ministry, Clutch and Strapping Young Lad came to mind, though no recollection of how many shows that actually was. One or two, anyway. The place was decently crowded but not overly packed considering the headliner was about to go on, and I made my way up toward the front of the theater to wait for the set to start.

And wait I did. Kyuss Lives! — the remarkable three-quarters reunion of desert rock gods Kyuss that features vocalist John Garcia, bassist Nick Oliveri, drummer Brant Bjork and guitarist Bruno Fevery — wouldn’t go on for another half an hour at least. I wasn’t especially bummed at having missed MonstrO or The Sword, but the crowd spent an awful lot of time spent waiting for Garcia to come on stage and tell them they don’t seem to understand the deal. And just like when you’re so hungry at a restaurant and you’re waiting, and you think maybe your order is screwed up somehow, that you’re going to get the wrong food, or nothing at all, that the little slip with your meal written on it fell off the thing and is sitting on the dirty kitchen floor, I started to worry something was amiss, that Brant Bjork had slipped on a banana peel or something and pulled a calf muscle and couldn’t drum or something equally ridiculous and unlikely/likely as that.

Guess that means I fell for it. Granted, on the scale of the 15 years it’s been since Kyuss last toured, the wait for Kyuss Lives! to take the stage last night wasn’t all that bad, but the anticipation was excruciating. And not just for me. The whole audience — a mostly-dude mix of stoners, rockers, guys who were there the first time and younger-types who weren’t, peppered with the occasional patient girlfriend and/or female actually there to enjoy the music — seemed tense with it. Maybe that’s me projecting.

They opened with “Hurricane” from 1995’s …And the Circus Leaves Town and sounded right on from the start. They could’ve played anything and it both would have been perfect and not enough, but it was a solid set — more than an hour, not quite 90 minutes, if I timed it right — and though there was no “Demon Cleaner,” cuts like “El Rodeo” and the more expected “Gardenia,” “Thumb” and “100 Degrees” covered a lot of ground.

Oliveri took backing vocals on “El Rodeo” and several others, and though he was a little loud in the mix initially, his voice meshed well with Garcia‘s. His legal problems notwithstanding, he sounded good and looked good on stage and seemed glad to be there. He and Bjork were practically a band unto themselves in the rhythm section. I’m pretty sure I’ve said this before, but Brant Bjork is the Godfather of Desert Groove, and playing drums in Kyuss Lives!, he made it look almost effortless, like at any moment, he was about to kick his feet up and take a nap while also ripping through “Allen’s Wrench” in the encore. Solid doesn’t even begin to cover it. The dude is something special.

Presumably, Garcia knows that, and likewise for Oliveri and guitarist Bruno Fevery, otherwise he’d have gotten other people for the project. For his part, Fevery held down the songs well. His hair hanging in front of his face for most of the set, the Belgian six-stringer kept a low profile compared to the draw of the other three in the band, and while he seemed impatient in the several extended jams the band took, his sound fit well with the songs. No complaints, is what I’m trying to say. Invariably, he didn’t have the sense of freedom with the material as might the dude who helped write it initially, but it was a more than respectable showing, and I think he won over most of the crowd as the set wore on.

The high point, for me, anyway, might have been “Whitewater” from Welcome to Sky Valley, if only because I didn’t expect it. I mean, you pretty much know you’re going to get “Green Machine” — and we did, in the encore — but I didn’t see “Whitewater” coming, and the crowd singing along to Garcia‘s “Aah-ah-ah, I am home” chorus made it seem like that was all the more the case. It was beautiful, and a little lonely, and more beautiful for being a little lonely — much as I’ve always imagined the Californian desert to be. I missed my wife and wished I wasn’t there alone.

It would be pretty easy for me to slip into wax poetics and talk about the grandeur of getting the chance to see these guys play these songs, since I never thought it would happen, but I think it’s important to remember it’s a rock and roll show, even if one that obviously meant a tremendous amount to the crowd assembled to see it, myself included. I will say that a telling moment came about during the break before the encore. The audience was chanting “KY-USS! KY-USS!” and it went like that for a bit, but was gradually overtaken by the even louder “KY-USS LIVES! KY-USS LIVES!” I was glad to have seen it.

Oliveri introduced Fevery to the crowd during the encore saying something to the tune of, “This dude rules and he’s from Belgium.” They jammed out “Molten Universe” before Garcia came back out to close the night with “Allen’s Wrench.” I remembered being on the side of the stage at Roadburn and watching as Orange Goblin‘s Ben Ward joined Garcia Plays Kyuss for the song. This was a different experience, being in the audience in Philly, but more than a thrill, all the same. I was a little surprised when it was over, but the house lights came up at about 10:35 and the place cleared out.

I made my way back to the lot where I’d parked, shelled out a whopping $7.50 for what in Manhattan would’ve cost me $20 plus a tip and hit the road back north with the ball game on the radio. I was in the driveway before 1AM, which is rare to say for the return from Philadelphia, but even if it had been five in the morning, it would be worth the trip. Say what you want about hating reunions, the dudes just being in it for the money, or whatever. I saw John Garcia, Nick Oliveri and Brant Bjork do a set of Kyuss songs last night, and I don’t care what else was happening in the world, it’s not gonna beat that.

Extra pics after the jump.

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The thought occurred to me to make the parenthetical headline for this post, “In Which Ben Ward Recounts and Summarizes Orange Goblin‘s Sundry Misadventures During the Recording Sessions for Their New Album,” but I think “The Grand Finale” works just as well. Given the much-appreciated effort on Mr. Ward‘s side in sending over these updates each week for the last month and a half, “Grand” seems like just the right word.

Sad as I am to see this series end, I’ll take my comfort in knowing we’re that much closer to the next Orange Goblin record. What follows is a summary of the band’s time in the studio. Thanks again to Ward for putting these updates together, and to Candlelight Records for making it happen. This is already one of my most anticipated releases of 2012.

If you want to see the now-complete series in its entirety, click here. Orange Goblin is Ward on vocals, guitarist Joe Hoare, bassist Martyn Millard and drummer Chris Turner.

Thanks for reading:

Orange Goblin – Studio Summary

Well, here we are. Six weeks on from when we first set foot in The Animal Farm recording studio in Bermondsey, London and we have another Orange Goblin long-player in the can. It’s been a very different, almost relaxed affair and the breaks between sessions have been great, allowing us to take the songs away and scrutinise them before going back and adding to them or changing them where we saw fit.

I think we’ll all miss the studio a bit. It became our little haven for those six weeks and a chance to get away from the real world! A place where it became acceptable to drink five beers before lunchtime and eat cold pizza until you felt nauseous! A place where we heard tales of how often Brain Harvey (ex-East 17 numbskull!) farts, how amazing the “Guitarminator” is and how we should never, ever ask the producer for a “laptop mix!” I certainly won’t miss the stress of trying to get the songs finished and writing the lyrics though… That can wait another five years now!!!

I have to take the opportunity to say a massive thank you to Jamie [Dodd], Ville and Mat [Leppanen] at the studio for their understanding and letting us come and go as we have done, without them this album would never have happened. Here are a few of the highs and lows of the last 6 weeks recording the album:

HIGHS:

1 – Getting all the rhythm tracks done within the first five days of recording. Not that this wasn’t expected as Chris has never taken more than a couple of days and Martyn is usually pretty spot on too. We afforded ourselves a bit more time for the drums and bass this time though as writing the songs was only completed on the day before Jamie first hit ‘record.’ Anyway, spurred on by silly amounts of Boddingtons and steak-flavoured crisps (chips to the Americans!) the rhythm section got the job done and to celebrate we all went out for a victory drink in honour!! This meant an all night session in the Crobar, far too may beers and sambucas, a massive dent in all our wallets and an even bigger hangover the day after!!!

2 – Guitars and vocals going as smoothly as they did. What with all the coming and going of various people at various time, Joe and I managed to keep focus and get our parts done in time too. We set up a routine of him doing a track, then me doing one, so neither of us got weighed down with too much and we both got a regular break. Jamie was great in this respect as it meant him having to go back and forth with setting up the guitars and the vocal booth but it worked out in the end. We didn’t do anything in particular to celebrate but had a constant supply of cider, red wine, lager and whiskey, which always helps! I have to give special mention to the afternoon I locked myself away in a different room with the sole intention of completing lyrics for one of the songs. An hour later Joe burst into the room to find me fast asleep with absolutely nothing written!!

3 – The day of the photo-shoot. I can’t remember the exact date but the shoot went really well and it was a nice, sunny day (rare in London during the summer!). What was amazing was the number of screaming, teenage girls that had gathered at the studio gates who we joked must be waiting for us! We later discovered that they were there for a teenage boy band that were rehearsing (miming into their hairbrushes!) next door. As I left the complex in my car that afternoon a couple of young girls asked if I would smuggle them into the studio in the boot (trunk to the Americans!) of my car… I’ll leave you to make your own sick joke up here!! PS – I didn’t!

4 – PIZZA DICE!!! This was an absolute godsend!! It was established in the first couple of days of recording that there were only two local pizza companies that were prepared to deliver to a recording studio on the fourth floor of an industrial complex so we decided to try them both. The first was Tower Pizza, who didn’t make a very good impression by bringing us completely the wrong order, not that we complained as it meant we got more. That was until we opened the box and tasted it!! I’m not exaggerating when I say that it was the worst pizza I have ever had. All four of us were starving but we threw 90 percent of the order away as it was so bad. I’m pretty sure chicken isn’t supposed to be green! Next day we tried Pizza Dice and hey presto, it was fantastic!! The order was right (always a good start!) the pizza tasted fresh and the chicken wings were not green! Plus, they also sent ice cold Coca-Cola, which went perfect with the whiskey!!

LOWS:

1 – Tower Pizza. (see above)

2 – Joe waking me up. (see above)

3 – The crowds of teenage girls NOT being into Orange Goblin. (see above)

4 – The studio being based on the fourth floor and having a no-smoking policy, which meant treks downstairs and outside every time we needed a cigarette! At least it gave us a chance to work off the beer and pizza!

It’s been fun writing these updates for The Obelisk and I’d like to thank JJ for posting them each week. All that remains now is for us to get the final mixes, master the damned thing and get it out there for the world to hear! It will be out by the end of March 2012 and I’m sure it’ll be worth the wait! Thanks for reading!

Ben Ward, 22nd September 2011.