Aside from what seems to be a genre-exclusive perpetuation of the “daze/days” play on words (see also Trouble and Pentagram), the Wino Daze demo from Los Angeles-based doom rockers Lost Breed fascinates because it both rocks and has an interesting place in the career timeline of Scott “Wino” Weinrich. The demo was recorded in 1989, and though it wouldn’t be released until it was compiled with non-Wino live tracks by Helltown Records in 2007, it managed to capture Wino right at the cusp of leaving Saint Vitus following the release and touring for V in 1990 and reviving The Obsessed for their ’90s run.

According to the liner notes for the Wino Daze reissue, the tracks on that demo were recorded in a break before Vitus picked back up for recording V, and it was understood in the band that, unless they got signed and really took off (a pretty popular caveat, as I hear it), the situation was temporary. And although Lost Breed put out two full-lengths on Hellhound Records — those being The Evil in You and Me (1993) and Save Yourself (1995) — before morphing into the band Vengeance Brothers, plagued by an inability to hold a stable lineup, they went through six singers and never were able to have the kind of impact they perhaps otherwise might have. Wino Daze wound up as their most enduringly relevant material.

The cover of Motörhead‘s “Iron Horse (Born to Lose)” was left off the 2007 version of Wino Daze, but Weinrich made it a highlight of his 2010 acoustic album, Adrift, so it’s pretty clear the song has stuck with him over the years. Easy to hear why in listening.

Happy Wino Wednesday:

Usually, the thing with heavy records is how much better they sound on headphones; how much more deeply an album can be experienced by kind of sequestering yourself with it. That’s not the case with Movements, the 2011 album from youngin’ Memphis trio The Dirty Streets. In fact, I’ve found that the 10-song outing actually loses something when taken on that way, and that with tones so open and such a sense of space in the recording, it’s more boombox than desktop – made to be heard outside. More than anything I’ve heard in a while, Movements makes me long for summer. Its energy is born of both the band’s youth and their beginning the process of sorting out their sound, but its energy is infectious most of all, and as guitarist/vocalist Justin Toland, bassist Thomas Storz and drummer Andrew Denham lay down classic-styled boogie and heavy rock – Grand Funk, Humble Pie, but most of all, Blue Cheer – they present their homage with an air of freshness that can’t be faked. The tracks included here are varied in mood, consistent in tone, and each serves a purpose as part of the whole, which divides itself into vinyl sides even for the gatefold digi-sleeve CD version of the record, released by Good for Nothing Records.

Newer school semi-psych hipster jangle à la The Black Keys is given a much-needed injection of soul, and though Toland’s vocals are so reminiscent at times of OutsideInside-era Dickie Peterson it’s distracting, the preaching he’s able to put into “Felt,” “Tryin’ too Hard” and opener “Broke as a Man Can Be” does a lot of work in making those songs as memorable as they are. The Blue Cheer comparison will be obvious though to anyone who’s heard the legendary heavy rock forebears’ most essential works, and it comes out particularly on second cut “Cloud of Strange,” on which Denham’s bass drum punctuates the start-stop verse riff and the groove of the chorus is full-on summer of ’68. The Dirty Streets make it an element of their own, though, and Toland doesn’t sound like he’s posturing as he matches his own guitar pulls in the “Cloud of Strange” chorus or rides Storz’s excellent bassline on “Felt.” Each of Movements’ two sides has its highlight cuts and its album tracks – another instance of rock traditionalism on the part of The Dirty Streets; this is clearly an LP of songs in the vein of the formative records of proto-heaviness – and “Felt” is one a born deep cut, but Denham’s mini-solo and the airy guitar leads it introduces enhance the blues-style sense of flow and the overall casual nature of the album. More than anything else, that would seem to be what makes Movements a Southern heavy rock album – it sounds hot and humid, and that continues through the single-worthy groove of “Fight You,” with more high-grade call and response between Toland and his instrument amid the strong rhythmic foundation provided by Storz and Denham.

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…Right after I got married — heyo!

In his first column for The Obelisk, guitarist/vocalist Mario Lalli of Fatso Jetson hits on the topic of “heavy” and what it is about it that allows for near-universal application. He tells his story, and I hope you’ll share yours in the comments below.

When did you get heavy?
by Mario Lalli

Have you ever thought about when and where and how… and why heavy rock and roll speaks to you? How did you come to discover the music and what about it moves you? What was the first step you took as a kid that led you to be reading this blog dedicated to hard rock and the culture that embraces it? The music, art, fashion, style, all of it.

It’s interesting to me to think about how certain sounds make me feel. How a “style” of music can become polarized because of the feeling that I get when I hear it is relevant to my experience. I’ll try to explain this thought… My experiences with hearing music as a child are probably very similar to yours.

The first meaningful songs we heard as babes are lullabies, nursery rhymes, etc. “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star”-kind of stuff. A lot of us also had music as part of our family culture… folkloric songs passed from generation to generation, music you hear in church. This kind of music has a different place in my head than a lot of the stuff I later discovered, listened to and became obsessed with (for many different reasons). There is an infinite spectrum of sounds and songs that move me in almost indescribable ways and then there is this word “heavy.”

What makes a sound, song or something “heavy?” Even more perplexing is why do I think that sounds “heavy?” When did my experiences during my pre-pubescent overload of TV, movies, real-life culture, pop culture and every other entertaining distraction the ‘60s and ‘70s tell my brain what sounds heavy? There’s got to be a reason that the first time I heard “In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida” (Iron Butterfly) at three or four years old I already knew what “trippy” meant and that frontal-lobe-searing fuzz guitar means your frying balls. I knew that at four years old. The instant I heard that fucking rad song. Why??!!

The conditioning that goes into really understanding “heavy” is not limited to those of us that feasted on the magical ceramic wizards of rock — Blue Cheer, Cream, Zeppelin, Sabbath, Hendrix — but also someone who wouldn’t know any of these artists if he heard them: My father. My father is 88 years old and has been an operatic tenor since he was 18. He is very open minded while highly educated musically. The thing is he also uses the term “heavy” to describe a musical passage or a feeling in a movement. The other day we were discussing classical composers and their style and approach. He used the word heavy to explain the relentless jarring harmonies and orchestration of Richard Wagner.

And the “heavy” is in Wagner‘s Ring Cycle — a series of operas based on Norse Sagas, Vikings, Gods, death, Germanic mythology. This stuff gets pretty fucking heavy. The kind of heavy that makes Black Sabbath sound like bluegrass. Anyway the super cool thing: It’s that it’s a relative term that while varying in complexity and depth still describes and conveys this basic dramatic feeling. Now where the bell-bottoms, mag wheels and muttonchops fit in I’m not real sure… but I love it all!

I was just doing my usual round of dicking around on the internet and not getting any work done (which seems to be how I spend my days of late), and came across the latest poster for the London Desertfest, and apparently a few bands were added while my back was turned. Perhaps most notably Black Cobra and Zoroaster, but some of those other names toward the bottom would seem to merit some research as well. I’ll get on it.

Click the poster to enlarge:

If you want to do a better job keeping up with Desertfest‘s updates than I’ve apparently been doing, hit up their website.

One thing about O’Brien’s Pub in Allston, Massachusetts, is that it’s not the Brighton Bar in Long Branch, NJ, and for that, I’m a little bummed watching this video for Infernal Overdrive‘s “Duel” from their soon-to-be-released Last Rays of the Dying Sun debut full-length (review here). No denying the band’s Massachusetts roots, I guess. Guitarist/vocalist Marc Schleicher used to be in Cracktorch (they weren’t the problem) and they’re playing one of the release shows for the album — the one around the release — in MA as well. And they recorded there too, now that I think about it. Points for consistency.

Some things to watch for in the “Duel” video: a Darryl Shepard cameo at 1:02 (he’s later mentioned in the on-screen “texts” as well) and references to both Monty Python and the Holy Grail and The Big Lebowski. Also make sure you get a look at bassist Keith Schleicher‘s Shiner Beer t-shirt, since if you’re ever lucky enough to catch Infernal Overdrive at a show, chances are he’ll be wearing it. The clip was directed by Mike Gill and the assistant director was Roadsaw‘s own Tim Catz, whose debut column you may have seen here last week.

Dig it:

And since I’ll be headed up that way March 3 and I thought you might want to as well, here’s the flyer for the Last Rays of the Dying Sun release shows — one in Massachusetts and one in Jersey:

Their sound is rife with space rock mystique and full of encompassing low-end, but what really stands Finland’s Temples out among their peers in the increasingly crowded spectrum of European heavy psychedelia is the fact that their songs never stop being songs, no matter how jammed-out they get. That may not have been the case on 2009’s Taajuuksia or the demos that preceded it, but with their latest outing, the full-length Periplaneta Nova (Mikrofoni Records), the Helsinki four-piece keep a grounded sense of structure even as they purposefully veer away from it into the charted course of clicked-wah antigravity. I won’t say the four extended tracks on Periplaneta Nova – “Perimetri” (9:10), “The Atheist” (12:20), “In Search of the Sun” (6:27) and “Attar” (11:35) – don’t have any openness to them at all, that’s far from the case and as gradually as “Perimetri” unfolds at the album’s beginning, a laid back feel is clearly paramount in their sound, but it’s easy to divine a purpose behind their meanderings. Accordingly, Temples are as adept at conveying a mood as they are the casual, live vibe of the recording, and though the material is obviously split up time-wise to allow for the two sides of a vinyl release, the flow crafted is total and runs throughout all four tracks.

Their keeping info sparse as regards personnel also speaks to an underlying philosophy at work – the CD’s liner and all internet info credits Ville, Miina, Mikko and Tommi, but says no more about who does what than that – and adds an element of mystery that doesn’t necessarily affect the listening process one way or another, but nonetheless colors the band’s overall image. It’s worth noting as well that the long intro of “Perimetri,” the first two-and-a-half minutes, accounts for almost all of the difference time-wise between that song and its side B mirror, “In Search of the Sun.” On that song, it’s 42 seconds before the quiet, echoing vocals kick in, and – the intro of “Perimetri” notwithstanding – that’s as long as Temples seem willing to go. Indeed, their quickness to introduce the verses on “The Atheist” and “Attar,” the two longer cuts, is a big part of what allows Periplaneta Nova to feel grounded structurally even in the face of such lengthy divergence. With its long, fuzz-soaked instrumental passages, “The Atheist” benefits greatly from its relatively straightforward beginning, offering a sense of development within itself as well as an expansion on what the listener expects after “Perimetri.” Some sense of early Om-style ritual can be heard in the bass’ inflection, and, to a lesser extent, the vocal cadence, but however rich the low-end gets, the guitars are never too far out of control. “The Atheist” weaves into verses and grand sections of riff-led jamming with apparent ease, culminating in a long solo that seems to languish over the slowdown until, finally, the song collapses.

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I’m not putting it out, but for anyone who didn’t get a copy of Dronolith when The Maple Forum put it out on CD last year, take note: the second album from Blackwolfgoat will be on limited vinyl coming March 12. The one-man progressive drone project of Darryl Shepard (now of Black Pyramid, also Milligram, Hackman, etc.) will be released on Bilocation Records/Kozmik Artifactz and can be preordered through the latter’s webstore.

Here are the details, direct from Shepard:

VINYL FACTS
– Limited to 350 copies only: 250 clear 180g vinyl / 100 clear green white splatter 150g vinyl
– Special vinyl mastering
– 300gsm glossy gatefold cover
– Hand-numbered
– High-quality vinyl, pressed in Germany

TRACKS
1. Building Buildings 6:09
2. Ruane 6:36
3. Tyche 4:11
4. Fear of Stars 5:54
5. Event Radius 7:03
6. Dronolith 15:30

Circle of the Sun, the first full-length from New Zealand heavy psych trio Arc of Ascent, was one of the most promising debuts of 2010 (review here). But of course, it wasn’t really a debut album for Arc of Ascent bassist/vocalist Craig Williamson, whose tenure in the ultra-psychedelic Lamp of the Universe and the crunchingly-riffed Datura ensured that the new band would have at very least a fascinating blend of influences. In the end, it not only satisfied on that level, but surprised with a clarity of production and depth of songcraft that guaranteed repeat listens would be no less engaging.

The enduring appeal of Circle of the Sun was what had me looking up Arc of Ascent‘s page on Thee Facebooks a couple weeks ago and checking back over this weekend, only to find out not only did the band have a new record ready to go — titled The Higher Key, and set for release on CD through Williamson‘s own Astral Projection imprint — but that they were about to offer a sneak peak of the album on their Bandcamp site. As fast as my chubby fingers could type, I shot off an email to Williamson to see if he’d be interested in having a track streamed here, and fortunately, he accepted.

It’s the opening cut on The Higher Key, and that’s important because “The Celestial Altar” seems to show that although Arc of Ascent has replaced guitarist Matt Cole-Baker with Sandy Schaare — the three-piece is rounded out by returning drummer John Strange — the stylistic basis remains the same and has evolved to more clearly incorporate classic desert rock amid the psych ranging. If you’re paying attention, you’ll even catch a pretty throaty scream (I won’t tell you when; you’ll have to listen) that seems to show Arc of Ascent‘s continued sonic expansion.

Thanks to Williamson for letting me feature “The Celestial Altar” on the player below. Please enjoy:

[mp3player width=460 height=120 config=fmp_jw_widget_config.xml playlist=arc-of-ascent.xml]

Arc of Ascent‘s The Higher Key was recorded October-December, 2011, and features artwork by Greg Hodgson. Vinyl release is expected tentatively by April through Germany’s Clostridium Records in 180g black, color and die-hard editions. More info and updates on Arc of Ascent are available here.