You know, I kind of struggle with knowing how personal I should get in these posts. I’m glad this week to have gotten back to the point where I fill the full frontpage with new stuff, but fuck me sideways, it wasn’t easy. And man, everyone works hard. I’m not the only one with two jobs. I’m not the only one who works late. It’s a fine line between explaining my situation and whining, I think. I don’t get to post as much as I want to, but you know, even when I didn’t have a job and I did five or six posts a day, I didn’t post as much as I wanted to.
So what’s new?
I picked Trouble tonight because it seemed like the only fitting end to this week. It was a pretty Trouble-y week, what with those Days of the Doomed reviews and all that craziness. I figured no better way to go. Sorry if you don’t like Trouble. Sorry if you don’t like The Obelisk. Sorry I drank all the wine.
Except that last one I’m not sorry about.
I’m gonna wait until The Patient Mrs. falls asleep, then I’m gonna go out in the field across the street and make black metal poses at the moon. And I’ll pretend like someone’s taking pictures of me except no one will be and I’ll pretend everything is high contrast black and white and I’m in Norway and I’m in Darkthrone and whatever. Frydee Darkthrone:
New podcast this weekend. Next week, reviews of Danny G., The Company Corvette, maybe Sons of Otis, so on. So help me gawd, I’ll have my interview with Justin Maranga of Ancestors posted, and it’s a good one. And I’ll work late, and I’ll bitch about that, and if I have time, I’ll write some about that Argus record I bought last weekend, and that’ll be fun too. Like, woo-hoo, man.
See you back here tomorrow or Sunday for that new podcast, on the forum in the meantime, and at your favorite jaded-rock-dude support group. SIJA: Self-Indulgent Jerks Anonymous.
Click the image above to bask in the full scale awesomeness that was my Midwestern CD haul. Sure, I wrote a little bit about the driving I did last weekend, and a lot about the Days of the Doomed II (seriously, even I was a little surprised at the length Day One and Day Two reviews), but one thing I didn’t mention was the record shopping I did on the way.
I’ll confess that was on purpose. The three stacks above I felt deserved some special attention. Left to right, there are the hauls from Ramalama Records in Toledo, Ohio, Flat, Black and Circular in Lansing, Michigan, and the fest itself, which took place in Cudahy, Wisconsin. Three states, three stacks — a mini-tour of irresponsible spending that served to remind me of why I went back to work full-time in the first place.
Here’s how it went down:
This was my second visit to Ramalama Records in Toledo, and like the first, I found it to be a haven of heavy wares. Last time when I got there, they were playing YOB, and this tie it was High on Fire‘s Surrounded by Thieves, which once again led me to strike up a conversation with the dude working the counter. They’d reorganized some since the last time I was there, but it seems mostly to have been a move to make room for more vinyl, which now takes up the whole left wall when you walk in. Good stuff. They didn’t have a lot used that I was really looking for — lots of metal, some I had, some I wasn’t interested in — but I took the opportunity on my way to Lansing to stock up on a few recent releases I hadn’t yet gotten physical copies of; the special edition of Candlemass being a highlight as well as new albums from Paradise Lost and Pelican and Solitude Aeturnus‘ recent reissue of their early works. The Diagonal and Spaceboy records were used, and I got some Funkadelic in there because that shit is awesome. Not bad for a way to stretch my legs between I-75 and I-280.
I wanted to make sure I stopped in at Flat, Black and Circular (or just FBC to the natives) before I left Lansing to go to the fest in Wisconsin, so last Friday morning, under the careful navigational guidance of Postman Dan — the unofficial mayor of Lansing, Michigan — I hit it up and found that although it’s got a name that hints at vinyl, it’s also a treasure trove of small, rectangular and plastic. Aside from a silver-backed disc Alice in Chains bootleg, I got the Diwphalanx issue of Church of Misery‘s The Second Coming (a double), as well as the newest Master Musicians of Bukkake, the first Six Organs of Admittance, some live Amebix, Yeti by Amon Düül II, the first Saturnalia Temple — which was a surprise — another Funkadelic album, some Unsane on Man’s Ruin, Monster Magnet‘s Tab 25 on Glitterhouse, which is a perfect complement to Hawkwind‘s In Search of Space, a Greenslade disc at random because I liked the cover (album is proggier than expected, but not bad) and the Satan-loving latest album by Lansing locals Beast in the Field, Lucifer, Bearer of Light. Top it off with Unorthodox and you have one of the finest CD hauls I’ve had in a long time. Lot of great shit to happen into and a lot of records there I’m happy to have adopted.
Once I’d effectively space trucked my way through Chicago’s legendary “make you want to stop and eat dinner here” traffic and actually arrived in Wisconsin, I found Days of the Doomed to be a trove of merch that I didn’t yet own that I should own. From Beelzefuzz — the unfortunates who arrived late having blown their tire and then later gave their stuff away for free (I mistakenly said I bought one; nope) to Sanctus Bellum, who were kind enough to give me a copy of the album to review, to Orodruin, whose Epicurian Mass I already owned (it was Claw Tower I needed) to Earthen Grave, whose CD showed up in the mail when I got back to New Jersey, it was hit or miss as regards the outcome of the purchases, but I can’t argue with new Apostle of Solitude demo material (streaming here) or finally getting the chance to pick up Argus‘ Boldly Stride the Doomed, or Earthride‘s new reissue of their self-titled EP with tracks from SHoD last year, I mark the whole thing a win. Picking up Orodruin‘s limited version of In Doom and the Blizaro stuff too was a bonus, and discs from Super Invader and their prior incarnation, Bullets for Baby, have given me something to look forward to checking out. Just as soon as I stop listening to that Apostle of Solitude demo. Any day now…
I could go on, but the fact is, I came out of last weekend with so much stuff, I’m going to use it all to make a new podcast over the next couple days, so I’ll have more up about it one way or another and I’m sure that’ll be good times. Stay tuned for more to come.
Admittedly, this poster is somewhat misleading. Check it out:
Now, I looked at that and immediately said to myself, “Holy shit, look at this amazing fucking lineup!” Literally. I said that. That’s a direct quote. But here’s the thing: Days of the Ceremony, which is apparently being billed as a festival taking place at Club Fono in Warsaw, is much less a traditional festival than it is a bunch of good shows happening in a row for which you can buy a ticket bundle. Here I thought Poland had put together a monster fest with bands from the North America and Europe as well as some from its own scene, but really, if you were going to travel to Poland, you’d need to stay for more than two weeks to see it all.
Still, it’s a cool poster and a dream of a bill, with Saint Vitus, Crowbar, Eyehategod, Fatso Jetson, Ufomammut, Weedeater, Sons of Otis, and the rest. I just wish it was all happening at the same time. Also that it was happening in New Jersey instead of Warsaw. Also I’d like a sandwich.
If you have any doubt that cred-heavy Portland doomers Witch Mountain put a ton of thought into what they do, just look at the title of their third album, Cauldron of the Wild. Their first for Profound Lore following a CD issue of last year’s excellent South of Salem, the album’s pun-tacular name encapsulates the two sides of the band’s moniker perfectly – “cauldron” for “witch” and “the wild” for “mountain.” That kind of symmetry can be found in the foursome’s sound as well on the vinyl-ready 45-minute album, which balances blues and doom to varying measures and is comprised of six Billy Anderson-produced tracks. The songs themselves aren’t immediately memorable – that is, they’re not cloying at catchiness; the music is more patient than that – but after two or three listens, they begin to stay with you, over time proving more and more indispensable. South of Salem had a similar effect on repeat visits, and naturally with so little time passed and Anderson’s production in common, there are going to be a lot of similarities between the two albums, but Cauldron of the Wild is fuller in Rob Wrong’s guitar tone, more assured rhythmically, and powerful vocalist Uta Plotkin sounds more comfortable and more confident in her performance. Where on songs like “Plastic Cage” from the previous release, she followed the riff and matched her meter to bassist David Hoopaugh – since replaced by Neal Munson – and drummer Nathan Carson (interview here), here even more straightforward tracks like “Beekeeper” and “Veil of the Forgotten” find her veering some in cadence and setting her own course of melody. That level of development serves to underscore Plotkin’s remarkable talent vocally. She sounds trained, if she isn’t, and even though both of those songs (the two shortest on Cauldron of the Wild at 5:30 and 5:29, respectively) feature a kind of gurgling growl to offset her bluesier melodic approach – similar to that of “End Game” from the last album – that doesn’t take away at all from the force of her delivery, which I almost can’t help but compare to fellow Pacific Northwesters Heart.
Likewise, effectively arranged layering on mid-album highlight “Shelter” makes that song a standout on the tracklist, but it’s important to note that even more so than on South of Salem, the focus of Cauldron of the Wild isn’t solely the vocals. Wrong injects smoking “blink and you’ll miss ‘em” leads into opener “The Ballad of Lanky Rae,” emphasizing the song’s bluesy stomp – righteously punctuated by Carson’s hi-hat/snare and rumbled along by Munson’s bass – and his lumbering riff sets the tone for the varying balance of doom and blues that endures on the rest of the tracks as Plotkin fittingly toys with the tradition of blues balladry in the song’s lyrics. The tale of a girl who goes in search of her demon father and finds him raising hell in Hell is fairly emblematic of how Witch Mountain approaches blues in general, mining tropes and skillfully blending them with elements out of ye olde metal to create a brew almost entirely their own. “Beekeeper” retains some of that bluesiness, but is fuller in the guitar – Wrong even throws in a pinch-harmonic squeal or two – and Plotkin’s approach when she’s not growling the chorus is grander and decidedly more metal. Munson proves to adaptable to either side of the band, and for his first record with Witch Mountain, he fits remarkably well into the fold of Cauldron of the Wild, mostly following but not necessarily limited to Wrong’s guitar lines. He stands out more on the quieter, airier and more soulful parts, making each note of the weighted-down chorus of “Shelter” count double for its spareness. The layering Plotkin works into her vocals has already been mentioned, but it’s worth noting again that both in the earlier choruses and the faster second half of the song she’s reaching toward epic with markedly dangerous intent.
A classic rock-minded outfit with catchy songs, crisp production and a charismatic frontman leading the way with quirky vocals and infectious hooks? If Mellow Bravo were from Brooklyn, they might be called The Giraffes, but even so, the Bostonian six-piece show marked personality on their self-titled sophomore outing, sounding like mature players even if the band’s only been around for three years. Mellow Bravo’s Mellow Bravo was recorded and mixed by Benny Grotto at Mad Oak Studios in Allston and is released via a new Small Stone imprint of the same name: Mad Oak Recordings. Much has been said of that label’s growing roster around these parts, but Mellow Bravo distinguish themselves by means of a style that borders on heavy rock without ever fully committing itself to the tropes of the genre. Roadsaw might be the closest comparison to another act – and there seems to be some relationship there since Roadsaw vocalist Craig Riggs owns Mad Oak and bassist Tim Catz co-directed Mellow Bravo’s video for the song “Where the Bodies Lay,” the second of the 11 tracks on the album – but what the two bands have in common is mostly geography, an affinity for structure and strong choruses; not a grouping limited to them alone. And perhaps it’s to Mellow Bravo’s credit that also one can hear shades of ZZ Top, Thin Lizzy, Guns ‘n’ Roses and others, none really emerges as a defining influence – that is, you don’t come out of listening to the album saying, “Mellow Bravo sounds like…” and then easily coming up with a name to fill that space – and the band sound like themselves most of all as a result. What they’re doing isn’t really original or trying to be, but they’re putting their stamp on the rock and roll ideologies that preceded them.
Manning the frontlines in Mellow Bravo is vocalist Keith Pierce, a gifted singer who comes across on the album like someone you’d want to see live, and able to be brash, as on “Where the Bodies Lay,” melodic, as on “Lioness” or even subdued, as on the Use Your Illusion II-informed album centerpiece, “Senorita.” His chemistry with keyboardist/vocalist Jess Collins results in an album highlight on the countrified later cut “Prairie Dog,” and though Collins’ moment at the fore – the “ooo-wee” laden “Ridin’” comes across as contrived in comparison to what’s around it; it’s probably the single dumbest feeling critique I’ve ever made, but I just didn’t believe her “ooo-wee” was sincere – the chorus remains effective. With a lineup filled out by guitarists Jeff Fultz (ex-Seemless) and Andrew Doherty, bassist/vocalist Seager Tennis and drummer Dave Jarvis, Mellow Bravo sounds as full as one might expect a piano-inclusive six-piece to sound, and the self-titled has a palpable flow and changes in mood that seem to come almost on a track-by-track basis, opening with a crisp (there’s that word again) trio of rockers in “Sad Sam,” “Where the Bodies Lay” and “Ridin’” before “When I’m in Pain” slows down the momentum – Tennis offering an engaging bass groove in the process – and begins a tug-of-war of energy that plays out in the back and forth of “Lioness,” “Senorita,” and the riffier mid-paced blues stomp of “Love Hammer,” which leads the way into the effectively rocked back end of the album, the later cuts affirming the unpretentious pop accessibility of the earlier ones without being redundant stylistically in the process. It continues to amaze me how a band like this can be so unabashedly accessible and remain – for lack of a better word – unaccessed. With the rampant commodification of popular music that’s seen every day in commercials, television, film – hell, even greeting cards play songs now – there has to be some room for a band like Mellow Bravo to cash in on what they’re already doing, which basically is that level of pop rock, just with louder drums.
Posted in Features on June 21st, 2012 by JJ Koczan
As someone who has dreamed for some time of putting together a compilation of bands I respect/admire/nerd-out on, I have much appreciation for the work that Yann and Thibaut have put into the three (so far) Falling Down releases. The French duo have managed each time out to corral artists and bands from across a range of genres and acquired material unavailable anywhere else into a series that’s become everything that’s best about the Various Artists section: Something special that’s separate from the regular discography, that’s maybe a little more under the radar for most fans, but that those who seek it out can treasure for as long as the band is around and longer.
And being a fan of the CD format, the four-disc Endless Edition of Falling Down IIV, with its gorgeous psychedelic artwork contained in a metal tin, is a welcome arrival. It’s already been reviewed, so I’ll spare the full list, but with audio and video contributions from Pelican, Ufomammut, Julie Christmas, Aiden Baker, Across Tundras, Mars Red Sky/Year of No Light and much more, Yann and Thibaut have been able to craft a tracklist that has a genuine album-style progression despite a range of artists, styles and varying productions. More than a ton of unreleased material from a wide variety of acts, it’s a solid listen.
I’d go on, but you get the fucking point, and the bottom line is they’re people who do good work, who were kind enough to send me one of these monster things, and I wanted to help spread the word some more than just a review. If you decide to click down and read the interview, please know that they’re native French speakers translating into English, so if you’re an English reader, some of the phrases might be awkward or whatever. As that kind of thing periodically results in awesomeness, I left as much of what Yann and Thibaut had to say alone, because it comes through clearly that they take the process very seriously and I think that’s what it’s all about.
Posted in On the Radar on June 20th, 2012 by JJ Koczan
Does Space Mushroom Fuzz exist? Well, if you open up two of their Bandcamps at the same time, then they exist twice. Did I just blow your mind? Good. Then you’re ready for the head-drenched effects jams of the Boston duo’s home-recorded debut, When Time Trippers Collide. The band, whatever they might lack in moniker and album titling proficiency, more than compensate for with the six extended tracks of the record itself, which is right up there with the heart of European next-gen psych heavies like Samsara Blues Experiment or even Electric Moon if Space Mushroom Fuzz were going to do it for 80 minutes at a clip.
The major difference between Space Mushroom Fuzz and those bands? It’s just two dudes. East Coasters might recognize the be-chapeaued Adam Abrams above from space-prog explorers Blue Aside or the newly-reborn Palace in Thunderland. In Space Mushroom Fuzz, Abrams handles guitar, bass, vocals and some drums and is joined by drummer John Belcastro. All of the music on When Time Trippers Collide was recorded between June 1 and June 20, 2012, and if you’re saying to yourself, “June 20? That’s today!” you’re absolutely right, but the release date isn’t listed as being until tomorrow, so wrap your head around that, time tripper.
But though the nature of the band means that not all these layers can come together improvised in a live setting, there’s a good deal of When Time Trippers Collide that feels made up on the spot, or at lease built on a basic rudimentary guitar/drum jam that was. If the tradeoff though for a not-all-live recording is going to be the bassline of “Watching the Watcher,” I’ll take it. Other highlights include the Tee-Pee Records-worthy vibe worship of “Space is Blue” and the jazzy hypnosis of “Shine on You Crazy Train Part 2.” Great way to zone yourself out.
And yeah, they’ve got some kinks to work out, but for a project to go from nothing to released — even if it’s just on their Bandcamp page — in 20 days is nothing to sneeze at. I have the feeling we could hear a lot more from Space Mushroom Fuzz in the future. Projects like this always seem to be infinitely expanding.
As far as lineup and recording info, thanks to mom and whoever else, Disastronaught, the self-released debut EP from London stoner rocking foursome Steak, arrives remarkably sparse. Instead, the space in the CD digipak where that might otherwise be contained is devoted to a narrative befitting the comic book-style artwork. I looked around for it somewhere online, and didn’t see it anywhere the band had made the album available, so I decided to reproduce it here in its entirety:
Decades of intergalactic war, invasion and civil unrest has left earth a baron [sic] wasteland and a haven for the galaxy’s undesirables, pirates, profiteers and murderers. The human race has been reduced to a labour commodity with most waiting to be sold into a life of despair, prostitution or hard labour. The lucky ones escape detection, dealing where they can to stay alive.
Just south of the Phoenix Mountains lies the typical new world city, where violence and murder are a daily way of life. Its name is Cyclone City. It is here, where through great adversity and courage, a band of brothers have united to make a fight back and take back what is rightfully theirs. The name of this group, this brotherhood, Steak.
The ruler of the territory is the evil slave baron, Lazarus. Rejected by his own race, this dark being made a new life on earth, profiteering on human despair. Along with his army of doom riders, Lazarus rules with an iron fist and takes great pleasure disposing of human evaders in a ferocious fashion.
Will these beer swilling, gun toting, filth slinging bad ass mothers be able to break this mighty war machine?
Welcome to the adventures of Steak.
Good fun. What the inclusion of this story – or intro piece or whatever you might want to call it – does is to set up the listener for an expectation of narrative in the songs. Perhaps doubly so since it’s the only bit of information aside from the tracklist that Steak include with the five-song disc. In reality, while they may or may not do their fair share of marauding, Steak is comprised of vocalist Kippa, bassist Cam, guitarist Reece and drummer Large, the latter two of whom were also instrumental in organizing this year’s London Desertfest, which Steak also played. (Their links as part of DesertScene were unknown to me when I got Disastronaught, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least mention it.) The EP is their first and has already been well received in both their native scene and beyond – and for good reason, as through the songs “The Butcher,” “Machine,” “Gore Whore,” “Fall of Lazarus” and “Peyote” there runs a clear and boldly conveyed love of heavy and stoner rock. Steak align themselves more with the European tradition of fuzz, a nod to Truckfighters comes in the bass-led intro to “Machine” and soon the space-echoing guitars and more subdued vibing draws a direct line to Dozer’s “TX-9” from Madre de Dios. Of course, a Kyuss influence pervades, and perhaps the single vocalist with whom Kippa has the most in common is Mike Cummings of Backwoods Payback (see “Fall of Lazarus” particularly), so there are some American-ish elements at work as well, but no influence on Disastronaught is abused, regardless of its geography. Rather, the tracks form a vision of Steak’s burgeoning creative process that finds them already strong as songwriters and capable of turning these formative pieces into something more distinctly the band’s own. Playing off strengths, instead of playing to them.
