Last week, it was announced that Atlanta, Georgia’s heavy rocking upstarts Royal Thunder — who are so hard to pin to a single genre that one has to resort to vague phrases like “heavy rock upstarts” to describe them — were hitting the road in September alongside Pallbearer and Samothrace for a tour dubbed “Paths to Oblivion.” No other way to say it, these are three killer bands, riding at the top of their game — all of whom have released killer albums this year (Samothrace‘s is out shortly) — and this is the kind of tour that years from now you look back on and say, “I saw these bands when…”

Check out the dates on the poster below (click to enlarge):

To mark the occasion, Relapse Records — which put out Royal Thunder‘s second album, CVI, late in May — has offered up two free copies of that full-length for me to giveaway.

Couldn’t be more stoked on that fact, as CVI‘s always-consistent but resoundingly amorphous sonic scope ties the band no more to Baroness than it does to Neurosis, no more to Mastodon than Fleetwood Mac, no more to Kylesa than Alice in Chains. Between sprawling nine-minute epics like “Shake and Shift” and “Blue,” aggressive bursts like that of the riffy “Whispering World,” the Americana atmospherics of the later “Minus” and the nigh-on-miraculous flow of all these elements which in less capable hands would be disparate and not in the slightest cohesive, it’s a perfect example of the genre-bending mindset that seems to be driving the next generation of US Heavy. Makes a good freebie, in other words.

To enter the giveaway, leave a comment on this post. Make sure to fill out the email address in the form so I can get in touch with you if you win. I’ll pick winners next week and the albums will come from Relapse. If you want to say thanks, I’d recommend hitting up their Thee Facebooks.

For a refresher on CVI, here’s the album streaming in its entirety, courtesy of the Royal Thunder Bandcamp page:

Royal Thunder is Mlny Parsonz, Lee Smith, Josh Weaver and Josh Coleman. They’re on Thee Facebooks here.

The doctor is in. For his debut column for The Obelisk, Scott Heller — aka Dr. Space of Copenhagen space rock improvisors Øresund Space Collective — embarks on a cosmos-bound trip with a glance at UK trio Dead Flowers‘ third and final album — appropriately-enough titled Altered State Circus. As you’ll see, he likes it spacey. Please enjoy:

Altered States with Dr. Space

Hello everyone. I hope you are all doing well this summer. Thanks to JJ, I will begin to write a monthly column about classic psychedelic rock music. I have been writing about music since 1984, when I wrote a heavy metal fanzine called Metal Madness (Albuquerque, New Mexico). One of the contributors to the fanzine from Chicago started getting me into Hawkwind and through my tape trading with Chuck Wax in Michigan, I became fully immersed in the UK psychedelic rock scene that flourished in the ‘80s producing many cool space and psychedelic rock bands like Omnia Opera, Ozric Tentacles, Mandragora, Ship of Fools, Sundial, Strobe, Magic Mushroom Band, Poisoned Electrick Head, the Bevis Frond and Dead Flowers, just to mention a few.

The one record from this time period that really blew my mind was Altered State Circus from Dead Flowers. This would sadly be the Newcastle band’s best but also last record ever. It was released on Delerium Records in 1994 on both vinyl and CD (DELEC LP/CD022). It also had an amazing album cover, which fit perfectly with the vibe of the music. The band’s previous two records were more raw acid rock excursions, while Altered State Circus was more spaced out, psychedelic and fully engaging.

The LP opens with “The Elephant’s Eye was Eerie.” Cool title. It starts with some spacey synths and the delay guitar kicks in with a cool lead line and the Steve Hillage/Ozric Tentalces-like main riff. The drummer appears quite loud at first and then the groovy bassline starts. The vocals are whispered as the head mix really builds with more synthesizers layered in and spacing around. The title-track, “Altered States Circus” is next. It starts with a really cool guitar that starts in the right channel and then both channels and then the bass kicks in. A bit heavier guitar riff but then it gets a bit spaceier and they repeat this sequence until the guitar break, which they have a nice delay on, then the riff becomes much harder around three minutes, as the track builds up. You can hear on the YouTube video below, where someone has added a film clip from 1928 and made this the soundtrack.

“Warmth Within (Chemical Binoculars)” is another 10-minute piece that starts a bit like the opening track, but the vocals are sung, not whispered. A melodic thread runs through as the spacey wind synths cruise from speaker to speaker, a lead synth line entering a bit later but the main drive remaining the spacey push of the guitar line and steady bass and drum groove. At about 6 minutes, the pace really picks up as the guitar becomes moves further out and the synths become more complex and integrated. “Slouch Factor” has a really cool wah guitar with a really stoned laid backed groove and vibe throughout. The vocal is also really stoned and calm. Steev Swayambhunath plays some really great guitar as well as the spacey synth of Chris Barnett — really floating and psychedelic. “Full Fist” is the shortest song and a heavier guitar riff and angrier vocal are a perfect follow-up to the calm, spaced-out cut before.

It gets really spaced out at the end. “Free the Weed” is eight minutes, starts with a spacey synth mixed quite loud and the delay guitars a bit further back. The vocals go back to a more laid back style, and this track really builds up over time. The lyrics are really excellent as well and not just about marijuana but broader freedom. “Vodophone in Oz” is a 12-minute, really spaced out track, with some hand drums and samples as it slowly builds up the groove. It has hardly any guitar, but is a really trippy electronic track by the end, showing a bit of the direction, Steev would take his music after Dead Flowers with 3000003. Almost like early trance techno without the thump! If you are fan of Ozric Tenacles, Steve Hillage, Mandragora and other head music, give this a chance.

You can also read my reviews if you join my blog, Writing about Music.

I’ve never encountered a city I’ve wanted to live in as much as I want to live in Philadelphia. This time, as The Patient Mrs. and I sat at the bar Abbaye and I ate a cheesesteak marinated in Chimay beer with roasted garlic aioli and drank a Yards IPA from a cask, the thought seemed even less realistic — like if we tried to get a place there, Philly itself would catch on and bar my entry. A pipe dream. Among many.

We headed down early to catch YOB frontman Mike Scheidt and U.S. Christmas frontman Nate Hall at Kung Fu Necktie. The Patient Mrs. coming out for a show is a rarity, on a Sunday especially, but it being a mostly acoustic night and it being Philadelphia — for which I think it’s safe to say she at least in part shares my affection — I was able to persuade. Hall and Scheidt had been in Brooklyn the night prior, but as I was at the Brighton for Halfway to Gone, I’d been unable to attend, though I knew from reading SabbathJeff‘s review on the forum that it was an early evening. That took some of the edge off the two-hour drive to get there.

It was just the two of them on the bill, so when I got to Kung Fu Necktie a bit before 8PM, I was early. Hall would go on first, at 9, and Scheidt would follow at about 9:35. They’d be done by 10:30, because at 11PM, a DJ was coming in for a late set. I guess that kind of thing happens. The Patient Mrs. and I sat at the bar and had a couple expertly-poured Boddingtons and enjoyed the dulcet freneticism of King Crimson over the Kung Fu Necktie P.A. The course of the evening would not be nearly as restless.

I’ve made no secret through the years of not being a fan of U.S. Christmas. Some bands just don’t click for some people, and it seems like no matter how much acclaim they get or however much on paper I should be so into them they could charge me rent, I remain stern in my position. I didn’t review last year’s The Valley Path and though it’s a friend putting it out, I’ll likely skip this year’s reissue of Bad Heart Bull as well. I’m sorry, but it’s not my job to like every band, and I’d sooner paint Williamsburg with my brains out the side of my skull than go back on something I’ve written without a genuine change of heart.

That said, earlier this year when I heard Nate Hall‘s solo debut, A Great River (on Neurot; track streaming here), I appreciated its sparseness and cohesiveness of atmosphere, and found Hall‘s ability to translate U.S. Christmas‘ ambient regionalism to a singer-songwriter context both impressive conceptually and an enjoyable listen. I liked it, to be clearer. And having liked it, I was looking forward to hearing how Hall would be able to bring those songs to life on stage. He did well.

Decked out in journeyman braids and a hat that, if you told me he’d stolen it from a museum I’d both believe you and be like, “awesome,” Hall ran through several of the tracks on A Great River. At times the reverb felt too heavy on his vocals — though that’s loyal to the sound of the album as well — but the a capella “When the Stars Begin to Fall” was nothing if not a bold inclusion, and he more than pulled it off, and “A Great River” was all the more powerful for the stripped-down, acoustic-only presentation it got, Hall‘s subdued, almost mumbled vocals sounding well within their rights to be tired beyond their years. He covered Townes van Zandt and brought Scheidt on for a song before closing out, and wrapped his short time on stage as unpretentiously as he’d started it, putting his guitar back in the case with his name spraypainted on it and walking to the back of the venue to sell some merch.

Two chairs had been situated on the Kung Fu Necktie stage, and the mics were already in position — and hell, by the time Hall was done, Scheidt had already been on stage playing as well — so there was no real changeover or anything like that between sets. Nonetheless, a short break felt natural. Apparently Hammers of Misfortune and The Gates of Slumber were playing nearby with locals Wizard Eye opening, and that may have cut into the attendance some, but there were heads here and there and The Patient Mrs. went so far as to laughingly point out shortly before Scheidt went on that she wasn’t the only lady present. It was true, though I didn’t know whether to congratulate her or what.

I’m a lucky man.

Scheidt‘s solo debut, Stay Awake, was pretty close in my mind after reviewing it just last week, but he, on the other hand, seems to have already moved well beyond it. Where the prior two times I’ve seen him do sets apart from YOB (in Brooklyn and at Roadburn), he’s barely started before he’s announced his inexperience in the form, this time he sat down and said, “I’m gonna do a few different things here,” thanked the crowd and immediately opened with two finger-picked instrumentals, unrepentantly folksy, and in the case of the second — which he shouted out to the teacher who taught him the technique back in Oregon — joyful. The surprises didn’t stop there.

From the album, which came out last month, he played only two songs — “Until the End of Everything” and “Stay Awake” — and both of them he delivered with a clarity and confidence (would be hard to call it “swagger” in the context of psychedelic folk) that even two months prior simply wasn’t there. Straight-backed, he projected his vocals when he wanted to project them, or otherwise slouched, leaning on his guitar at a few points like it might be the only thing holding him up. The spoken part introducing “Until the End of Everything,” which I singled out in my review of the record, he positively nailed, and in a bit of tour camaraderie, he returned the favor paid him and brought Hall back on stage for a song as well.

That gave the show a bit of symmetry, sure, but their cover of the Rolling Stones‘ “Dead Flowers” — they nodded to Townes van Zandt‘s version, which some might recognize from the final moments of The Big Lebowski — made for a fitting and charming apex for the evening, with Scheidt‘s take on “Stay Awake” serving as the closer for his set and final affirmation of how well and how quickly he’s adapted to solo artistry. Not only did he perform the song well, or deliver the lines effectively, but he had a palpable sense of enjoyment while he did it. Heads nodded to the acoustic groove — his riffs are his riffs, after all; that’s a hard impulse to fight and everyone there seemed to decide not to fight it in unison — and he successfully conveyed the emotional dynamics at the heart of the song: Frustration, persistence, fatigue, persistence, in cycle and simultaneous.

I wished him safe travels and bought a copy of U.S. Christmas‘ Salt the Wound 2012 reissue (I already had a physical copy of A Great River) and the Stay Awake CD from Hall before splitting. Sure enough, it was about 10:30. The Patient Mrs. and I were home by 12:15AM — which felt like the miracle work of a cosmos that wanted me to not be even more of a miserable bastard this entire week — and asleep no latter than I probably would’ve been anyway. Philly wins again. Philly always wins as far as I’m concerned. The show was even better than the cheesesteak, and for the evening, the company and the performance, a purer win than I’ve had in a while.

Extra pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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Maryland trio Chowder are one band whose pedigree and lineage give you absolutely no context for what they sound like. Some bands, you know what you’re getting just by who they hang out with, but when you consider that guitarist Josh Hart cut his teeth playing in early incarnations of Revelation and Unorthodox — both names of formidable contribution to Maryland’s doom scene — and that he’s currently a member of Earthride, well, that kind of sets you up to think doom, or at very least some derivation thereof. On their long-in-arriving debut full-length, Passion Rift, Chowder defy almost every expectation you could put on them while still also using guitars.

The album, released by I, Voidhanger Records, is entirely instrumental and blindingly varied musically, bouncing hardcore rhythms off wild off-time changes and the kind of progressive technicalities that only true fans of Rush seem to be able to make gospel. There are elements of heavy riffing to be found here and there, but not enough to really ally the band to one genre or another. They never rest that long, and even ambient pieces like “Mazuku” or the opening “Mysterioid” have more to them than they might at first seem to, with Hart adding layers of synth, mellotron and even theremin to the mix of effects and drones.

Comprised of Hart alongside bassist Doug Williams (also cello) and drummer Chad Rush, Chowder began in 1992. It wasn’t until 2006 that the band released a demo through Revelation guitarist/vocalist John Brenner‘s Bland Hand Records, and Passion Rift has been another six years coming beyond that, so when it came time for listening to the album (streaming a couple tracks here), I had plenty of questions about how it was made, when and what were the band’s motivations.

As you can see in the following Six Dumb Questions, Hart had plenty of answers. Please enjoy:

1. Take me through the history of the band. It seems like Chowder was always in the background while other projects were the main focus. How has working with Chad changed over the years? Did you always know you wanted to keep the band instrumental?

Chad and I started writing music together while I was still in Revelation, back in 1992 I guess. A mutual friend thought we might be on the same page and it clicked pretty early. We wrote a few songs around that time but just sort of always considered it a sort of side-project as I was busy playing bass with Revelation and then Unorthodox soon after. In 1994 we managed to get into a studio and record four of the tunes we’d been screwing around with over those couple of years under the name Spectre that I clipped from my favorite Revelation song. Our friend Rich Newberger sang on three of those songs and his brother Steve played bass. It was pretty exciting to hear that stuff recorded because it was so weird for the time period. I don’t think many people we played it for really knew what to make of it then. That lineup kind of fizzled out and Chad and I continued to write a ton of music after I split with Unorthodox. It was one of those periods when you’re just spilling over with ideas, like every time I picked up my guitar I was writing a keeper riff or something. Sadly, we could never flesh out a lineup to play live and just kind of floundered over the years.

Back then I thought we wanted a singer as well and that was really tough because I was super-picky and there weren’t many people around that really fit what I expected. So we just hammered away as a three piece, Chad, myself and Joe Ruthvin on bass who left to form Earthride with [Dave] Sherman and Eric Little. It was always easy to write with Chad though, we both had a somewhat eclectic tastes so nothing was ever really a contention idea-wise. I’d bring something to the table and we’d both get really excited about it and try out best to form it into something unique. I remember laughing our asses off at some weird riff that just seemed so ridiculous but by the time we’d evolved it into a song it felt really, really cool and fresh. That was even before we started to implement synths and other post-rock effects. Chad‘s talent for irrational timing was really exceptional and allowed me to just go with whatever crazy thing came up. As far as being instrumental goes, like I said that wasn’t the plan but I was always into that kind of thing from the early math rock bands like Buzzard and King Sour to the obvious Rush and ‘70s prog tracks where the bands just busted loose for a song or two.

I think the thing that made me say, “Screw it, we don’t even need a singer,” was this Asylum tape I used to just play constantly that was a whole 45-minute side of songs without vocals. That was my favorite thing out of all the Maryland “doom” bands and it was funny because when I started playing with Unorthodox, Dale [Flood] and I used to joke about him not singing anymore and just going that route. By 2006, when John Brenner and I were booking the Doom or be Doomed fest in Baltimore and the idea of Chowder playing was on the table, I was comfortable with the idea of just playing the music and started to write with more self-indulgence and less conventional structure. I felt the addition of all the synths and mellotrons could keep things interesting enough that some kind of vocal wouldn’t be missed. Ultimately, I really don’t have anything to say to these people listening that they haven’t heard 1,000 times before anyway. I know as I get older I get kind of burned out on hearing the screaming guy wailing at me about his inner tumoils and emotions or whatever book he/she just read.

2. When was the material on Passion Rift written? What’s the writing process like?

The album is all over the place. “Mazuku,” “Salt Creep,” “The Innsmouth Look” and “Head Full of Rats” all go back to the ‘90s. The rest of it was written for the album between 2007-2008. I think it’s a good mix and some of our best material. I purposely kept it off the 2007 EP we did with Bland Hand Records to save for a full-length if it ever happened. I’ll usually bring riffs or whole songs to the other guys and we build on it from there. Sometimes I’ll have specific ideas about what the drums or bass do, but mostly it’s very loose and we just sort of design the song together based on a rough outline I’ve come up with. Playing with guys who really know their chops is a huge comfort when coming up with ideas. We developed a kind of language over time to communicate ideas back and forth. Like, “Try one of those sizzle drop, slap runs” and Doug would know what I was referring to. Most of the descriptions aren’t really words though and are just sounds. DUN DUN DUN dee doo DUN dddeeeeiin!!

3. One thing the album seems to do is balance different styles. The songs have a lot from prog, more than a bit of hardcore and some doom in them. When you started putting together the demo in 2006, how clear of an idea did you have of what you wanted to do stylistically? When you’re writing when does something start to take shape as a Chowder song?

I know that no matter what I write that these guys can play it and they’re up for trying it out which is the beauty of this band in my eyes. There’s never been a conversation about what we should sound like or, “is this new song really us?” I know we’re not breaking any new ground here but the idea has always been to just write what sounds good, what feels right. The demo was actually recorded in 1997. John Brenner released it for download on his Bland Hand Records label around 2006. No, it’s never been clear. I’m so heavily influenced and have been by so many different kinds of music and bands that it’s nearly impossible to write within a style on purpose, if that makes any sense. Like if you were to tell me to write a straight doom metal song, I would have trouble. Same goes for anything else, punk, hardcore, rock. Everything seems to channel through some screwy filter and come out all twisted up. If I’m writing, it’s a Chowder song. If I start playing something on the guitar and it sounds like it could be a potential Earthride riff, for example, I usually have to change some element about it to make it fit. Music loses its power when it tries too hard to capture a certain vibe or sound. If you can easily stuff my band into a genre then I’m probably not living up to my full potential as a musician.

4. When in the recording process for Passion Rift were the samples, keyboards, mellotrons, theremin added? How much of that stuff comes from experimenting in the studio and how much is thought out beforehand?

Most of those things were recorded after the basic guitar, bass and drum tracks. There are a few parts in the there that were recorded with me on synth with the bass and drums at the same time though. Any part like that was written and rehearsed long before we booked recording time. The track “Mysterioid” was written almost entirely in studio with only the main synth notes worked out before. It and “Mazuku” were both intended to be production pieces only so we had some room to mess around with them in there. Adding a bunch of different things, getting out of hand with it. Everything else is written. Anything you hear in the other songs was worked out ahead of time at home and at rehearsal. We were very lucky to meet Jim Rezek through our engineer Mike Potter. Jim has the nicest vintage synthesizer and keyboard collection I’ve ever seen and was entirely open to the idea of us coming to his house and recording some tracks on his equipment.

5. What are some of the differences for you between playing guitar in Chowder and playing bass in Earthride? Are there things the two bands have in common, or is it a totally different experience?

Laziness. In Earthride, I’m able to lay back a good bit and stay in the pocket with Eric, which was something I missed while playing all this wacko, technical music for so long. I can just live out my Geezer Butler fantasy while relaxing up there and groove to the massive heaviness. With Chowder something is coming down the pipe at all times. A chord or key change, a solo, something to trigger on the pedals. It requires a shitload of concentration and I’m going to go so far as to say it isn’t much fun. When we’re playing that material live and we nail it, it’s very rewarding but I’m not so sure it’s worth the panic attack I’m about to have about every 30 seconds attempting it. I totally get why bands like Rush and Genesis simmered down on that shit over the years. It wasn’t just for the sake of selling records! And those guys are WAY better at that stuff than we’ll ever be. I gained a hell of a lot more respect for what bands like that accomplish in a live setting trying to be fancy like them. Ultimately, it’s two different experiences, both rewarding though. I have loved playing other people’s music because each one taught me something new that I’ve taken with me and implemented in writing my own songs or how to behave (or not). Joining Earthride was almost a no brainer anyway because I went to high school with those guys. We’ve been friends a long, long time. Hell, Eric and I were in our first band together with Kelly Carmichael from Internal Void back in 1985. So it feels like home. Chowder feels like a draconian P.O.W. camp in Siberia…only less smiling.

6. What’s next for Chowder? Will you guys do shows, and would you be able to recreate all those layers of keys and effects in a live setting?

Well, things are a little weird these days for us. Chad moved to the West Coast a couple years ago and seems to be happy doing what he’s doing out there. I have however started rehearsing and writing some material with Ronnie Kalimon from Asylum/Unorthodox/Internal Void and things are going nicely. Doug has expressed interest so I’m hoping he’ll be available to join us soon and we can start moving forward. I’m not sure what will actually come out of it. My desire would be to play some shows, maybe a fest or two and most importantly record something new. I’d pretty much given up on anything happening at all as it was a true struggle to get this record onto a label and released and then with Chad moving it was looking pretty grim. Anything at all is a bonus. Everything we’ve recorded is done so in a way that it can be reproduced live aside from the obvious production tracks. There are parts on “Passion Rift” and “Custody” where the guitar drops out and I take over on the keyboards which we were also doing live. Anything that plays concurrent with the guitar is done by Doug on the Taurus pedals or triggered by me on Roland PK-5 midi pedals from an E-MU Vintage Keys synth. It’s a nightmare, let me tell you. I look like a fat, dancing idiot up there trying to nail all that stuff at the right times. During our last few shows I would be thinking, “Never again, never again,” but somehow we always ended up there doing it again. Must be the loads of girls that come out to see us.

Chowder on Thee Facebooks

I, Voidhanger Records

I continue to be in awe of the Italian ‘zine Vincebus Eruptum, which I consider to be the foremost champion of European heavy psych as a whole and in particular the voice of the Italian heavy underground. The dedication of editor Davide “Davidew” Pansolin is unmatched in the genre, and his work never fails to inspire. I’ve yet to come out of reading an issue of Vincebus Eruptum not wanting to start a print ‘zine of my own or buy a ridiculous amount of import CDs.

The latest issue, No. 13, is available now from their BigCartel shop, and features interviews with Orange Goblin, Earth, former Monster Magnet/Wellwater Conspiracy guitarist John McBain, Graveyard and Small Stone Records honcho Scott Hamilton. Of particular interest to me was Swedish newcomers Dean Allen Foyd, which features former members of Roachpowder, but because it’s Vincebus Eruptum, the Italian scene is well represented as well. Interviews with Pater Nembrot and Gandhi’s Gunn and reviews of Ufomammut, T.H.U.M.B., The Hounds of Hasselvander (released on Italy’s Black Widow and Bloodrock Records and featuring Paolo Apollo Negri of Wicked Minds), El-Thule, Gandhi’s Gunn, Alice Tambourine Lover, Tiresia Raptus and others ensure that Italy is at the forefront of readers’ focus. A little patriotism is a good thing every now and again.

Particularly so when it comes alongside the careful eyes and ears of Pansolin and his fellow contributors, who are nothing if not reliable when it comes to solid opinions and knowledge of their subject matter that’s second to nobody. This special edition issue no. 13 comes with a poster of the cover by artist Kabuto that proclaims it was produced especially for the recent Stoned From the Underground festival, which only further shows how entrenched the mag is with the European scene.

Look for more to come from Vincebus Eruptum, as they recently announced they’re bumping up from two issues a year to three, and click the image below to enlarge a preview of the features:

Vincebus Eruptum‘s American distribution is handled through The Soda Shop. Visit their BigCartel store here.

When Man’s Ruin Records was getting ready to put out 1999’s Jalamanta, the first solo album from former Kyuss and Fu Manchu drummer Brant Bjork, they said in the album bio that it was “Psychedelic, soulful, organic, sexy…” and that “Man’s Ruin considers this one of their most interesting releases to date,” citing the likes of War as inspiration. Throughout the years and many subsequent solo offerings since, funk has always remained an essential part of Brant Bjork‘s work, and that ultra-grooving, ultra-warm low end is part of what makes Jalamanta a perfect summertime record, as well as the quintessential desert rock release.

The other part is the laid back vibe that Bjork constructs out of that low end. From the very start of “Lazy Bones” and “Automatic Fantastic,” Jalamanta bleeds cool. It’s a record that’s had untold influence on the current heavy rock scene — especially in Europe; one can hear shades of jams like “‘Let’s Get Chinese Eyes'” or “Defender of the Oleander” across a wide swath of bands — and its psychedelic elements only added mystique to the sun-baked atmosphere. Not to discount anything Kyuss did, but Jalamanta sounds even more purely of the desert, and if the song “Low Desert Punk” is anything to go by, Bjork knew exactly what he was doing and the sound he was embodying when he made it.

And while Brant Bjork would go on to become the godfather of desert rock and Jalamanta would in large part define the course of his career as a solo songwriter — a career that seemed to be sidetracked following a label deal with Napalm Records last year by the emergence of Kyuss Lives!, whose fate remains uncertain pending litigation — the album’s appeal isn’t necessarily limited to its geography. Sure, it’s low desert punk, but for example, right now it’s so humid outside my office that if you moved your arms the right way you could do a breast stroke through the air, and Jalamanta proves a perfect fit for Jersey’s perma-haze as well.

The album was reissued on Bjork‘s own Duna Records in 2003 (minus the Mario Lalli-fronted “Toot”) and again by his next label incarnation, Low Desert Punk (with that track restored and a bonus Blue Öyster Cult cover) on vinyl in 2009, and the original is out there on the secondary market, so Jalamanta is around, but if like me you’re too paralyzed by the heat to move and check it out, here’s “Too Many Chiefs… Not Enough Indians” courtesy of the YouTubes:

There are some bands who seeing them on stage at the Brighton Bar is like seeing an animal in its natural habitat, and Halfway to Gone is one of them. Originally, the newly formed Electrikill was set to open the show, which would’ve provided a good bit of symmetry since Jim and Reg Hogan from that band also founded Solarized, in which Halfway bassist/vocalist Lou Gorra and guitarist Lee Gollin (aka Stu) also played in in Solarized‘s heyday before joining forces with Stu‘s brother, drummer Danny Gollin as the original trio Halfway to Gone. But the semi-reunion wasn’t to be, and when I rolled into a crowded Saturday night in Long Branch, it was Jay Monday and The X-Men on the bill.

Jay Monday was on as I arrived. They’re set sometime soon to record an album with Gorra, also an engineer/producer, and were young. Pulled a young crowd and played young rock and roll. Could’ve been worse. They had a pit going and, well, kids these days. The X-Men, on the other hand, got on stage after a break and immediately proclaimed themselves to be “old fucks,” and held an extra level of interest for featuring as their frontman the owner of the Brighton, Greg Macolino, on guitar and vocals. Their energy and sound were both classic punk, with Macolino bouncing up and down while jamming out and proudly proclaiming the band’s 28 years. Apparently it had been 25 since they last played with that bassist.

Impressive in itself, but the night was unquestionably Halfway to Gone‘s. It belonged to them. They’ve played sporadic shows over the last several years — YouTube confirms the last one was November 2010 — mostly at the Brighton, to crowds of friends and loyal supporters. That was pretty much the case this time too, but the difference between Saturday and the last few times I’ve seen Halfway was that this show they proclaimed the coming of a new album. Gorra spoke about it from the stage, and along with raucous standbys like “Great American Scumbag” from 2002’s Second Season and “Holiday in Altamont” from their 2001 full-length debut, High Five — both highlights, make no mistake — there was a yet-untitled new  song that the trio was clearly excited about.

With good reason. That’s their first new material since their 2004 self-titled third album, and while Stu and Danny had played in A Thousand Knives of Fire together in the interim, for Gorra, he was obviously excited about the prospect of picking up Halfway again as the band got going. And the kids loved it. I mean that. Kids. At the stoner rock show. Jay Monday seemed to have a whole crew with them, and they pumped fists, moshed, stage dove (if you can fucking believe that), and had a full-on punk rock brodown while the band played. Cuts like “Turnpike” from the self-titled and “Couldn’t Even Find a Fight” were met with sing-alongs and spilled beer. It was like someone was filming a video, except not staged, and a far cry from the usual “still life with beardos standing” tableau one expects at gigs of this sort.

Halfway fed off it and hit a stride that was palpable. Danny remains a massively underrated drummer, and Stu has enough personality for an entire trio on his own, and together with Lou‘s obviously sincere appreciation for the crowd, the songs and the night as a whole, it was great to watch. The night was getting late, but it didn’t matter. People were practically running in circles while they played, and even a blown bass amp early on did little to derail the momentum. Noodling on Lynyrd Skynyrd‘s “Sweet Home Alabama” and a few others off classic rock FM, Stu got on mic and announced that he’d never met the bass head that could stand up to Gorra‘s playing. Jay Monday stepped up to provide in that regard and peace spread across the land. By peace, I mean “Never Comin’ Home” off of Second Season. Same difference.

They threw a curve in the form of the slower, moodier “Stormy Day” from the first record, which cut the energy level in the crowd some in the beginning, until a break in the middle in which Gorra teased, “You think the song is over! If you pressed stop on the CD player now, you’d miss one of the best parts of the whole thing,” before introducing Stu by saying he was going to be playing some “heavy metal guitar.” The riff that followed could just as easily have served as the central figure for a metalcore breakdown — and in most bands it probably would — but Halfway to Gone repurposed it into the basis of a killer solo jam, and kept the renewed forward drive going with “Whiskey Train” and “Thee Song” from their 2000 split with Alabama Thunderpussy. When they got off stage, it was to a rousing chorus of shouts for one more song.

Had they played that one more song, I expect they’d probably been in the same situation. Ditto that two songs and so on into the night. It was after 1AM when they finished — the Brighton living up to its reputation for late nights as it had earlier in the week — and the crowd filed out right away to stand in front of the front door of the venue and block passage while blowing smoke in the face of everyone as they walked out, clueless as only frivolous youth can be. I shook a few hands and said a couple goodnights and was back on the Parkway soon enough for the drive north, reminiscing with myself about the many times I’ve made that drive before and the excellent shows — including this one — that routine has followed.

Halfway to Gone never disappoint. Looking forward to that new album and hopefully more nights like this one. Extra pics after the jump.

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I fuckin’ love The Brought Low. There’s a lot of bands I dig — more every day, it seems — but The Brought Low are local, I’ve seen them a bunch of times, I know them, and they’ve yet to disappoint musically. “Army of Soldiers” was included on their Coextinction Recordings EP last year, and I don’t know who made this video, but it sets the song to nostalgic looking video scenes, and that’s more than enough for me. Zack Kurland of Purple Knights, who will hopefully have a vast series of limited edition cassettes coming soon, sent me this clip, and I’m glad to share it with y’all.

It’s been a longer week than you’d know by looking at the course of posts on The Obelisk, but I thank you for checking in if you have (if you haven’t, blow it out your ass), and I hope you’ve enjoyed the course of the last couple weeks. Next week to come I’ll have a live review of Halfway to Gone at the Brighton Bar, as well as an interview with bassist/vocalist Lou Gorra, and a host of other reviews, including Dust Storm Warning, Scott Kelly and another one or two I can’t remember. It kind of sucks that I haven’t been able to post as much as I want the last month or so, but — frankly speaking — The Obelisk is pretty much the longest-running occupation I’ve had since I worked at KB Toys however many years back, and I’m not about to deprioritize it just because some jerks are paying me money to do something else.

I’ve had a hell of a week, and I’m working tomorrow putting together emailers and whatever else, but fuck it, I’ve got a liberal portion of wine and before I crash out, I most of all want to thank everyone who checked in over the last couple days. If you saw the Elder stream, I hope you enjoyed it. That’s exactly the kind of thing I want to be doing with this site, hosting tracks I genuinely think are killer for people to check out from a band I believe deserve more exposure. Hopefully you dig those tunes and get to pick up that vinyl if you’re so interested. Tony Reed dropped a line earlier today about some Mos Generator unreleased tracks, so we’ll see what comes of that, but the bottom line is anytime I can bring you music I’m stoked on, it reinforces the whole reasoning behind why I do this in the first place.

Alright, I’ve had enough wine that it’s time for watching the ball game and going to bed, but thank you again one last time for reading this week. I have a lot going on lately on a personal level — my professional jobs are eating up a lot of time, plus I’m trying to find a place to move to — but as the one dude who stands behind everything that gets posted on this site, I thank you for reading the work, whether I’ve written it or whether it’s come from a columnist, interviewee, or whatever. Expect more to come in that regard, but I’m going to try my best to get a few more opinion pieces up as well, if only because I’ve got the opinions and they’re building up on this end.

That’s enough of that. If you’re still reading, thanks. If not, well, okay. I hope you’ll check in on the forum or I’ll see you back here Monday for more whoopdeedo and good-fun-type wholesomeness.