It’s hard to know where to start with Seven, the debut 7” single by Austin, Texas-based trio The Well. The band self-released the two-track outing, featuring the songs “Act II” and “Trespass,” at the end of September in a limited marble-vinyl edition of 300, and coupled the record with a variety of artworks in what they called a “rip-off series,” with hand-drawn sketches from Casey Cork and bassist/vocalist Lisa Alley reinterpreting album art from Electric Wizard, Wicked Lady (the one I got, hence the flapper above), Black Sabbath and Blue Cheer to suit their own purposes, as well as some with an original design. Musically, I suppose The Well do pretty much the same thing. Having formed in 2010, the band are pretty clearly getting their bearings in terms of their development, but they already have a firm grip on their aesthetic, taking new (nouveau?) American laidbackitude and melding it with simple grooving riffs, obscure but catchy lyrics and an echoing sense of open space. Seven doesn’t really find The Well coming out of the gate with anything that’s never been done before, but it works no less well for them in 2012 than it did for Lords of the North in 2008, and the oft-concurrent dual vocals of Alley and guitarist Ian Graham are an immediate distinguishing factor on “Act II,” which rolls in casual-like on a stonerly bounce from drummer Jason Sullivan and nod-ready bassline from Alley. Graham offers crunch in his rhythm tone and classic fuzz for the bluesy lead he takes near the halfway point, and when the song breaks following the next verse into a post-Vitus noisefest, the effect is jarring in probably the best way it could be. Alley’s bass and Sullivan’s drums keep going while the guitar drops out and Graham and Alley – whose voices already prove impeccably matched – take the fore and make a viable hook out of the lines “Twisting ropes and needle pokes can’t harm me/Pious minds can’t understand what charms me,” and lock into wah-driven shuffle for what seems like it will be the instrumental outro until they pull back for one last run through the chorus, well timed and crisply executed on the live-sounding recording, helmed by Jason Morales of Austin heavy psych improvisators Tia Carrera.

Such moves make it easy to get into both songs on Seven, accessible in a totally non-commercialized but still traditional sense of pop songwriting. “Trespass,” which is more explicitly led by Graham’s guitar, shorter by just over a full minute and overall thicker in its chug, is no less catchy. Graham opens with a wash of Hendrix wah and is joined in time by Alley and Sullivan for another solid mid-paced groover, Sullivan’s fills telegraphing the transitions but not detracting from them. After the intro, which takes up 50 seconds of the total 4:43, “Trespass” follows a much simpler structure than did “Act II,” but the vocals tap into that same lysergic drawl that made the first Witch album so irresistible and a double-layered solo from Sullivan provides a point of interest leading into the build of the bridge, even if the song is clearly a B-side. As they did with “Act II,” they pull back to the central groove just when it seems like they’ve gone too far out to recover, and they end Seven with a return to the chorus, giving a final nod to the potential in their craft before the guitar clicks off and the release is over. The Well have reportedly already returned to the studio to record a full-length, this time with Mark Deutrom (who played bass in the Melvins during their Atlantic years), and their commitment to aligning themselves to producers with experience in heavy rock speaks to a professional mindset as much as any last chorus speaks to a quality of craft, so while Seven is the first time The Well have made their presence known, it seems unlikely it will be the last. All the better. Both “Act II” and “Trespass” give an impression of a trio taking off on a creative trip. Their efficiency on a musical level and their penchant for strong hooks can only serve them well as they continue to develop, and whatever they do next, I’ll be interested to hear what other tricks they might have up their collective sleeve in terms of changing up their approach or adding diversity to their sound or even just establishing a flow over the course of a debut LP. For now, though, Seven makes a welcome introduction.

The Well on Thee Facebooks

The Well on Bandcamp

My office had cleared out pretty early, which I suppose was to be expected. And while I scrambled to get enough work done so that I wouldn’t come back from the Thanksgiving holiday already behind — not to mention Friday’s tasks so that others can have the day off and not be waiting on me; how considerate of them to ask if I had time to pound three days of work into one — I took solace in knowing that at very least I’d be missing the better part of traffic on the way to Manhattan’s Bowery Ballroom, where Om were headlining with Lungfish frontman Daniel Higgs playing solo to support.

I suppose I did — miss most of the traffic, that is. Wednesday before Thanksgiving is both the biggest travel day and the biggest bar-business day of the year (which should account for all the flashing police car lights I saw on the way home), but I got into the city with minimal drama and only one real alone-in-the-car rant about how much I hate driving in New York, hate the people, too many people, fuck this, fuck that, and so on. Yelling at nothing is hardly the proper headspace for embracing Om‘s intimate sense of tonally warm ritual, but such are the flaws of human experience. In a perfect world, they’d play in temples in remote areas and going to see them would be a pilgrimage.

Come to think of it, that’s kind of what it was like seeing them at Roadburn earlier this year. In any case, the parking gods were kind to me and I got a space right across the street from Bowery Ballroom. I wasn’t late, but I wasn’t early either, and I knew I wanted to be up front for Daniel Higgs, though I didn’t even really know why yet. He was on stage when I walked up the stairs and into the venue proper, his set not started yet, but there all the same, sitting in his chair, plucking strings on his banjo. At one point, he pointed a thumb at the sound guy — who I recognized from when he used to work at the old Ace of Clubs when that was open; good for him moving up in the world or at least venue size — and said something about how the union made him stick to a strict start time.

That probably should’ve been a hint as to Higgs‘ level of interaction with the audience, but I didn’t really know what to expect going into his set. Something of a legend in the Dischord Records sense of the word within the D.C post-hardcore set, Lungfish released their first album in seven years in this year’s A.C.R. 1999, and Higgs‘ solo work has been running concurrent since 1998 at a fairly prolific clip. With a booming mostly-white beard and facial expressions to match his vocal manipulations that reminded me at points of “Dixie” Dave Collins from Weedeater, he quickly turned his banjo into more than its folksy reputation.

He touched on bluegrass groove, sure enough, and there may yet exist an alternate reality wherein what he was playing would qualify as “folk” in the traditional sense of being a music of the people — I’d like to see the place where that’s so, and I mean that with no condescension whatsoever — but with a variety of fingering techniques and runs through Eastern-sounding scales and sitar-esque mysticisms,Higgsdid more with a banjo in about 10 minutes than I’ve ever seen anyone do in my life. Periodic verses appeared, but he wasn’t running through songs in a setlist — the effect was more fluid than that, his approach more open. At one point, still playing his banjo as he was for all but the briefest of moments throughout, he said, “There are more verses to that song. I’m still learning them,” and then asked someone in the crowd what time it was and was much relieved to know how much time he had left.

It was entertaining to watch someone so clearly endeavored in artistry also be jubilant in his work. I feel like there’s an implication that if you’re doing what you love, you’re supposed to be somberly contemplative about it at all times, but Higgs was clearly enjoying himself and it stands to reason why. In his long run of verses, one in particular was a standout that went something close to, “Half-vulcan is enough to mind-meld/But not enough to ignore the pain/Of the mind control technologies that keep us near insane.” Higgs must have known it too, because he repeated it a second time — “For emphasis,” as he put it. My own affinity for the original Star Trek aside, his Vulcan salute was much appreciated. He wished that we all would live long and prosper and remember “this time” that every day should be Thanksgiving, talked about the hurricane for a bit but surmised we were all okay, since we were there.

Perhaps that was his only misstep, but how could he know how sick everyone is of talking about the storm? Higgs spoke about a Mosque under construction they passed on their way through Rhode Island that had a billboard in front of it with “100 million eggs” printed on it and then left the crowd to ponder the meaning, and all the while tapped his feet and played his banjo with an easy-seeming, natural but well-developed virtuosity that was at points as hypnotic to watch as it was to hear. Once or twice, he looked in a small notebook to refresh himself of other verses and kept a friendly vibe going straight through until he was done, peppering in bits of toyed-with national anthem, “The rockets’ red glare,” “Bombs bursting in air,” and so forth while working around the original notes of the song as casually as one might throw a handful of rocks into a river.

Their equipment was already set up and looked ready to roll, so when Higgs finished, it wasn’t an especially long break before Om came out on stage, one at a time, first Robert A. A. Lowe, who sat in front of his draped table in front of an assortment of synths, samplers, noisemakers and effects, a guitar off to his right and a couple tambourines on the floor to his left — like the secret ingredient, he was, even unto his own gear — then drummer Emil Amos, who looked on edge only until he took his place behind his drums and then suddenly the world righted itself, and finally Al Cisneros, whose shamanistic presence is furthered all the more by his on-stage humility, quiet speaking voice and entranced stage method. He grooves to Om playing it the way the notes themselves flow up, down, to the side.

His tone was clean for most of the set, and no matter what Cisneros does, he’s always going to be a focal point in the band — Sleep‘s legacy alone ensures that, never mind the quiet intensity he brings to Om, his cross-dogma lyrics, unique vocal style and cadence or the simple fact that he’s the only one of the three standing — but as they opened with “Sinai,” it was immediate how different a band Om has become since they first started out in the middle of the last decade. Lowe is obviously a factor. His is the first guitar that’s been heard on an Om record, and aside from rocking a tambourine like no one I’ve ever seen, the textures of synth and even vocals be brings have enriched the band’s sound exponentially. But Amos isn’t to be forgotten in this mix either.

Om‘s set, which was comprised entirely of material from their last three albums — 2007’s Pilgrimage, 2009’s God is Good (review here) and this year’s Advaitic Songs (review here) — was good enough that on my way out of the city, I took the newest record out of my trusty CD wallet in some vain attempt to continue the experience, and what I noted right away (and the sad part about this is it’s true, this is actually how I think when I listen to music) was that Amos, who seemed far back and distant on the album, was so much more an active part of the process on stage. His drumming is more than just a featured component, and particularly as he and Cisneros — and now Lowe as well — have been playing together over the course of two full-lengths, he’s become integral to Om‘s sound, his highly stylized and intricate play as responsible for carrying across the sense of journey in “Meditation is the Practice of Death” as Cisneros‘ basslines.

From there, Om unfolded a gorgeous string of intricate melodies, spiritually weighted grooves and the loud quietness that has come to typify what they do. A lack of cello made some of the arrangements different than on the album, but Lowe is a master at filling those spaces, such that “Cremation Ghat I” and “Cremation Ghat II” from God is Good could hardly be called lacking. As I’d been so bummed out on the crowd my last time at Bowery Ballroom, when Graveyard played, I was glad to note the audience for Om was decidedly less douche-tastic. You’re always going to get a few — Manhattan is nothing if not a playground for assholes of all shapes, sizes and levels of self-importance — but I don’t know if it was the holiday spirit, Om‘s steady vibing or my own choice to stay sober for the night not wanting to pull a dooey on a holiday weekend, but things seemed much more manageable in general. Maybe Om just chilled me the fuck out. Much needed, much appreciated.

A specifically transcendent moment was when Cisneros clicked into his distorted tone for “State of Non-Return” from Advaitic Songs, Amos meeting him with a precise whimsy in his intricate fills and Lowe making sure the atmosphere stayed consistent while also adding guitar to further the crunch. The heavier stretch and relatively straightforward material was an effective setup for the comparatively minimal “Gebel Berkal” — the 2008 single which served as Amos‘ introduction point to the band — and an ultra-quiet rearrangement of Pilgrimage highlight “Bhima’s Theme” that found Cisneros quietly playing his bass and trading off vocals with Lowe, reciting the verse lines like incantations while Lowe answered back with spaces of operatic falsetto made ambient through echoing effects.

I was reminded a bit of Higgs, who had done some similar vocal experimenting — inviting the crowd to partake as well, of course — but the affect with Lowe in Om was entirely different. Amos left the stage for a time to give Lowe and Cisneros the space to explore, and they did. The feeling was open and otherworldly and the room, which had not exactly been lacking in this regard the whole show, once more began to sting my nostrils with sweet-smelling smoke. “Bhima’s Theme” gradually emerged, slow but recognizable, when Amos returned, and from my place in back by the bar, I watched as they brought the song up to maximum volume and then brought it back down again carefully, like putting down an artifact, and thus ended their set, Lowe‘s ethereal vocalizing being the last element to go. Cisneros took a quick bow and before one even had time to wonder if an encore was coming, the house lights were brought up and Motörhead was once more piped through the P.A., as though to hurry everyone out of the place.

Within about three minutes, I was back at my car, and with but the slightest hiccup of traffic leading into the Holland Tunnel, on my way home without incident. The busiest travel day of the year was over, I guess. Fine by me. I made it back to my humble river valley shortly after midnight — again, listening to Advaitic Songs en route — and made myself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to replace the dinner I’d missed on account of the by-now-forgotten workday, thankful for the fact that there were still two slices of bread left to make such a thing possible. Maybe Higgs had the right of it.

Extra pics after the jump.

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There is a sticker on my desk that reads as follows:

“F the Booth” is a simple enough slogan to remember, though I’ve yet to hear anything from Long Island noise rockers John Wilkes Booth (other than their name) that would actually inspire me to say it. The four-piece are reportedly at work on their next album after delays for things like hurricanes, jobs, playing SHoD, etc., and ever ones for an afternoon’s distraction, they’ve booked a Sunday matinee for Dec. 2 with a pretty right on lineup of bands.

The show will take place at Mr. Beery’s in Bethpage, and anytime Lord Fowl and Lo-Pan show up in the same place, you can be pretty well assured it’s a good time. All exclamations and times that follow were hijacked from the Thee Facebooks event page:

Afternoon Rock Show to end all Rock Shows!!!!!!!

Join us for 6 killer bands including Small Stone Artist Lord Fowl & Lo-Pan!!!!!!  This is a one off for Lo-Pan from their tour with High On Fire & Goatwhore!!

If you miss this it is pretty obvious that you are an idiot.

3 Jones Crusher
4 Warsaw Sage (Cliff & Andy from Wormsmeat)
5 Lord Fowl {Conneticut} (Small Stone Recs.)
6 John Wilkes Booth
7 Lo-Pan {OHIO} (Small Stone Recs.)
8 Half Ton Session

Their third new studio album since getting back together as Revelation and issuing 2008’s Release on Leaf Hound, Inner Harbor is an album that bleeds authenticity. After a while and the work that the Baltimore trio of John Brenner (guitar/vocals), Bert Hall, Jr. (bass) and Steve Branagan (drums) have also done as the concurrent act Against Nature, one almost comes to expect a level of musical humanity in the sound, but Inner Harbor (review here) takes the unpretentious progressive elements in Revelation‘s approach and pushes them further, evoking the melancholy in which they’ve always trafficked without sounding like a put-on or over-the-top in any sense that might apply.

Yet I wouldn’t call Inner Harbor reserved. In the interview that follows, Brenner talks about the process of paring down the six tracks to fit them on the LP version of the album (released by Pariah Child Records, as opposed to the CD on Shadow Kingdom or the free download available through the band’s own Bland Hand imprint), and it seems like a process involving little if any restraint, resulting in an album that went from 60 minutes to 35. Tracks like “Jones Falls” and “Terribilita” aren’t likely to overwhelm with a sonic assault, but both convey effectively the raw emotional aspect that’s at the heart of classic doom.

Because Revelation are a constantly evolving process, however,that emotionality comes with some stylistic shifts that anyone who heard either Release or 2009’s follow-up, For the Sake of No One (or the earlier records, for that matter), could be easily surprised by — most notably the extensive incorporation of progressive synth alongside the guitar, bass and drums. Revelation have never been about expansive arrangements or overly indulgent explorations, instead finding effective conveyance through relatively simple, traditional means and tones, but on a song like the closing “An Allegory of Want” or “Rebecca at the Well,” they’re showing more of a classic prog influence — i.e. Rush — and making it work within the context of their long-since-proven ability for songcraft.

The changes might not be so devastating for anyone who’s followed Revelation since they got back or Branagan, Hall and Brenner‘s work in Against Nature, but the Rush influence was something I specifically wanted to explore in the back and forth with Brenner, along with the evolution of their self-recording process and the differences that have emerged between Against Nature and Revelation over the last few years. Brenner, an admitted introvert but no less sincere in his answers than he is in the music he writes, was especially poignant in discussing the meaning behind the title Inner Harbor, and how important the interpretations of individual words is to him both in the band and in general.

And maybe those parts are specifically worth a look, but honestly, the whole thing makes for a good read. You’ll find the complete 5,500-word Q&A after the jump.

Please enjoy:

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This week, Wino announced that after wrapping up the holiday tour with Clutch, the opening acts from that bill — namely Wino, Mondo Generator and Saviours — will be continuing their run of dates for another 11 days. Goes without saying that this is kickass news for anyone with an appreciation for that which doesn’t suck, and I thought to honor it we’d do a track off the Songs of Townes van Zandt tribute that came out earlier this year on Neurot.

Business first. Here are the tour dates:

Mondo Generator, Saviours & Wino Tour Dates

1/2 Brooklyn, NY @ Saint Vitus Bar
1/3 Philadelphia, PA @ Kung Fu Necktie
1/4 Pittsburgh, PA @ 31st Street Pub
1/5 Newport, KY @ Thompson House
1/6 Chicago, IL @ Reggie’s Music Joint
1/8 Denver, CO @ Marquis Theater
1/9 Albuquerque, NM @ Launchpad
1/10 Tempe, AZ @ Rocky Point Cantina
1/11 Los Angeles, CA @ The Satellite
1/13 Santa Cruz, CA @ The Atrium at Catalyst (no Wino)

The Songs of Townes van Zandt split between Wino and Scott Kelly and Steve Von Till of Neurosis was pretty much inevitable considering how much all three of them owe to the country crooner stylistically. After covering his material live and in various other recorded contexts over the last several years, each artist took three tracks for their own and the results were as gorgeous as they were moody.

“A Song For,” which appeared on van Zandt‘s 1994 studio swansong, No Deeper Blue, closes out the tribute and is a simple-enough execution of guitar and double-tracked vocals, but what it really shows is the power of memorable songwriting that typified van Zandt‘s work, as well as Wino‘s ability to take the original piece and make it his own in terms of performance and raw emotionality.

As always, hope you dig it and hope you have a great Wino Wednesday:

The lineup for London Desertfest 2013 continues to take shape. One of my favorite parts about going to the fest this year was being able to see British bands I wouldn’t otherwise have a chance to catch because, well, I don’t live in London. Gurt, who recently released their You Ain’t from around these Parts? EP, will be hitting theDesertfest stage next year and continuing the tradition.

One more act to look forward to — yeah, that’s right, I’ll be there after all — on an increasingly long list. Here’s the official announcement:

Gurt a Cert at Desertfest

London 4-piece Gurt join us for Desertfest 2013. Take a pinch of groovy blues straight out of the 70?s and a handful of gut wrenching sludgy filth, mix together and you get Gurt. The band began their journey in 2010 and originally comprised of Gareth on vocals, Simon/Drums, Jamie/guitar, and John/Bass. Jamie and John have since departed and been replaced by Sedulus guitarist Rich Williams and Dave Blakemore on bass.

Despite their urban UK origins, this is a band you could imagine being spawned in the Swamps of Louisanna and Gareth’s high-pitched growling and grunting combined with the band’s down-tuned, down-tempo groove make for a fine blend of southern sludge. Strong influences such as Iron Monkey, Eyehategod, Weedeater can be clearly detected throughout their early releases, ‘Volume 1?, ‘First Steps’, ‘Redwin’, a 7? split with the much missed Dopefight and November’s release of ‘You ain’t from around these parts?’

More info at the Desertfest website: http://thedesertfest.com/london

Note they call this one the “Winter Tour 2012.” One can only assume that’s as opposed to The Midnight Ghost Train‘s Winter Tour 2013, which will probably see the band take off two minutes after New Year’s and only stop in time for their Spring Tour 2013. The Midnight Ghost Train tour a lot, is the point I’m making.

And good for them, as their hard work has seen them added to next year’s Roadburn (part of the Spring tour, no doubt; announcement here), and their 2012 outing, Buffalo (stream it below), will give them no shortage of kickass songs to play there. In the meantime, here are the Winter Tour dates:

The Midnight Ghost Train Winter Tour 2012

Nov 29 Green Lantern Lexington, KY
Nov 30 Ultra Lounge Chicago, IL
Dec 1 Southgate House Newport, KY
Dec 2 Brass Rail Fort Wayne, IN
Dec 4 Pegasus Records Florence, AL
Dec 5 Squeaky Lizard Ocean Springs, MS
Dec 6 Twist Of Lime Metairie, LA
Dec 7 Tsunami Monroe, LA
Dec 8 Beer Land Austin, TX
Dec 9 Jakes Downtown Tulsa, OK

Were it not for the fact that Golden Void are fronted by guitarist Isaiah Mitchell — also of Earthless, whose name already lingers with an underappreciated mystique despite the fact that they’re still touring — their self-titled Thrill Jockey debut (available on “baby poop yellow” vinyl) would probably just be another excellent showing of organic heavy psych in a sea of same. The kicker is that but for the weight and profile Mitchell‘s pedigree brings to the new San Francisco-based four-piece, not to mention a few killer guitar solos, the two acts have very little to do with each other. And as turns out to be the case throughout the seven tracks/36 minutes of Golden Void‘s Golden Void, that’s a big part of the new band’s appeal.

In Golden Void, Mitchell is joined by bassist Aaron Morgan, drummer Justin Pinkerton and keyboardist Camilla Saufly-Mitchell, and though his guitar playing remains a defining factor here as in Earthless, its purposes are markedly different. Earthless was for a time and probably still is the strongest American presence in jam-based heavy psychedelia worldwide (Tia Carrera, from Austin, also come to mind, albeit on a smaller scale), with sprawling extended tracks ranging through and past Hawkwindian space. That influence shows up here and there on Golden Void as well — it would almost have to, as the band are named for a Hawkwind track from 1975’s Warrior on the Edge of Time — but the songs are not epic classic rock jams, they’re regular songs, with verse parts, chorus parts, and most of all, with singing.

Mitchell proves a more than able vocalist throughout Golden Void‘s debut, doubtless to the surprise of many who might have assumed Earthless stayed instrumental out of some lack of ability rather than an aesthetic choice. Opener “Art of Invading” pits a grunge-style (think vague hallucinations of Soundgarden) against Saufly-Mitchell‘s melodious keyboard, warm basslines from Morgan and Pinkerton‘s natural, popping snare, rising to a grand but still unpretentious apex that sets the course for the rest of the album. Highlights persist in the thicker “Virtue,” the dreamier Hendrixian airiness of  “Jetsun Dolma” and the rising tensions of the early push in “Badlands” — best performance of the album from the rhythm section, who drive it — and pretty soon it’s apparent that you’re more than halfway through listening and there hasn’t been a clunker yet.

I suppose on some level that should be a surprise, but it isn’t really and becomes less of one with repeat listens to these songs. Someone good at something turns out to also be good at… that thing… in a different band. Fair enough. Mitchell puts an album’s worth of soul into the solo of “Jetsun Dolma” as the band builds up behind, and the pop-minded organ sounds of “Shady Grove” bring out a late-’60s psychedelia in a way that continues Golden Void‘s streak of individual identities within the cuts. So too do the closing duo of “The Curve,” which revives the distorted shuffle of the earlier “Virtue,” and the ’70s prog of finale “Atlantis,” the longest track at 7:47 and perhaps the strongest statement of purpose Golden Void make on their debut offering.

“Atlantis” caps with memorable self-harmonizing from Mitchell, as Saufly-Mitchell (who one assumes is his wife; the bio doesn’t say), Morgan and Pinkerton drop out, leaving the vocals to underscore this as just the beginning of Golden Void showcasing their creative breadth. They are as naturally flowing in the longer track as in any of the others, which hover between about four and a half and five and a half minutes, but it’s that last showing of progressive ethereality that really sets the band up to expand their sound next time out. I wouldn’t be surprised to find more such layering in future works, and if Mitchell is to continue Golden Void either as a central- or side-project, then the band already has one collection of songs to its collective credit that lives up to the formidable legacy preceding them.

Golden Void on Thee Facebooks

Thrill Jockey Records