Posted in Reviews on December 30th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
Plucked from the crowded amalgam that is the Athens heavy underground scene and signed by Heavy Psych Sounds to become labelmates with the likes of Nebula and Brant Bjork, the Greek four-piece Acid Mammoth offer their second album, Under Acid Hoof, as a deeply referential testament to their self-identification as simply “doom.” Is it really that easy? “Doom?” Almost never, and certainly not in Acid Mammoth‘s case. Doom is a part of it, drawing from a post-Electric Wizard school of riffing that most shows itself on the “Witchcult Today”-esque penultimate track “Jack the Riffer,” but informs the vibe from the outset of opener “Them!” onward, mostly in the tone and lumbering riffs of the father-son guitar team of Chris Babalis, Sr., and Chris Bablis, Jr., the latter of whom also handles vocals.
Joined by bassist Dimosthenis Varikos and drummer Marios Louvaris, both apparently longtime friends of Chris Jr., the familial duo lead the charge across the five-track/35-minute long-player with a rolling sensibility playing toward mostly familiar elements, horror themes, descriptions of Satanic rituals in 9:10 second (and longest) song “Tree of Woe,” which seems to take particular glee in its plod as it presents some of the more nuanced complexities that make Acid Mammoth‘s “doom” tag something of an understatement. More so than in the shorter “Them!” before it, which is a speedier piece that works to set the stage for what’s to come in tone and even gives the bass a well-earned standout moment in the second half — more than an intro, but still very much a lead-in to the rest of the LP — the vocal patterning on “Tree of Woe” reminds of Kadavar, and thereby give an unexpected but still recognizable twist to the familiarity of the guitars’ sound and the air-push of low end added by the bass. Structures throughout are relatively straightforward, but flow well, and that’s something as well one might trace to Monolord, but to my ear rings truer to the methods in the earlier work of fellow Heavy Psych Sounds denizens Alunah.
By the time “Tree of Woe” is finished and as Under Acid Hoof nods its way into the unfolding side A closer/tracklist centerpiece “Tusks of Doom” — also shorter at 5:50, but with a choice hook — and delivers its chorus with a kind of lower-register chanting, that Alunah-circa-White–Hoarhound spirit comes through, despite the fact that instead of singing about the forest or nature worship, Acid Mammoth seem to be writing paeans to the riff itself. So be it. Maybe this is splitting hairs stylistically, but it all adds up to Under Acid Hoof being more than just “doom,” at least in the traditional sense of European Sabbath worshipers or the many acolytes of acts like Reverend Bizarre and The Obsessed. If one wants to consider it on such terms, while their lineup is obviously cross-generational, their sound is definitively next-generation; modern even unto how it plays toward the past as an authentic moment.
What exactly all this means will depend largely on the listener. Time and attention spans are short — though while we’re speaking of modernity, I refuse to accept this as a consequence of the digital age; it’s nothing new — and I suspect for some Under Acid Hoof will linger under (acid) radar as compared to some of the label’s higher-profile fare, at least in the immediate. Add to that the more readily familiar of some of the elements at play, and those who listen quickly en route to the next Bandcamp page might have too easy a time slotting Acid Mammoth in one category or another and moving on. I almost always advise repeat listens over working from a first impression, but especially in this case.
As Acid Mammoth roil their way into side B with “Jack the Riffer,” the darker side of their sound comes to the forefront, still keeping that similar vocal delivery, and even pushing the register somewhat in the pre-lead midsection of the song, giving the already-set course of the album some slight twist. With just two songs as opposed to side A’s three, the second half of Under Acid Hoof is a few minutes shorter than the first, but all the more immersive, playing off that hypnotic riff at the core of its leadoff. At six minutes in, vocals return in “Jack the Riffer” and Acid Mammoth drive the song to its slow, solo-laced crescendo and rumbling finish, giving way to the guitar at the outset of the closing title-track, which is quicker in tempo than “Jack the Riffer” but still holds to the thickness of tone and the marching sensibility brought to the proceedings by Louvaris‘ understated but effective drumming, the lyrics cutting through to create a kind of narrative and declaration of who the band are in the lines, “Darkness shall fall/Heavy shall rise/Yeah/And under acid hoof, I die” (or something similar).
They are not the first band to work with the stylistic aspects they bring to bear, but it’s worth pointing out that they’re not trying to be. There’s zero pretense about what Acid Mammoth are up to on their second record, and that’s something they carry with them from their 2017 self-titled, while at the same time also stripping down their approach to its more essential roots. It’s notable that Under Acid Hoof, at 35 minutes, is some 22 shorter than its 57-minute predecessor, and while much of that might be attributed to the first record’s 18-minute closer, it still speaks to a progression under way in the band’s take. Two of Acid Mammoth‘s tracks topped 13 minutes, none of Under Acid Hoof‘s touch 10, and that feels like a purposeful change in how the songs are constructed.
Likewise a somewhat grimmer turn on the whole that these five songs present, though certainly the debut had its horror influence as well. As to where it might be leading, from the fact that Acid Mammoth lead with riffs, worship volume, and plunder like slow-motion churning madmen, I’d suspect they’re keen to let their sound continue to develop as it will without forcing it in one direction or another, but neither does that mean they’re not cognizant of what they want the material to do. It’s a balance to strike, ultimately, and it’s one they do well with here. That is but one of Under Acid Hoof‘s promising characteristics.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 30th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
A 15th anniversary only happens once, and Swedish heavy rockers Deville will celebrate theirs in style with their first-ever run of Australian tour dates. Presented by Beats Cartel, the run will find them supporting their 2018 outing, Pigs with Gods (review here) — though I wouldn’t be surprised either if they had something new in the works or at least a few new songs to play at the shows — and paired up with Sydney duo Astrodeath, who this winter will release their debut album through Black Farm Records. Deville‘s last offering came out through Fuzzorama, and they also toured Europe in 2019 to back it. Whether or not they have new material to offer up is somewhat beside the point, considering the anniversary noted above. Think about dedicating 15 years of your life to a creative project. It’s not easy. It’s worth a trip to Australia, as far as I’m concerned.
They’ll play Mojo Burning and Germanium Daze festivals while they’re there, and do two nights in Melbourne to lead off, with a couple days off after the first fest that I’m just going to assume will be dedicated to the requisite sightseeing and having-your-picture-taken-with-a-koala-or-kangaroos, etc. How my heart longs have a picture taken with a koala or a kangaroo. I can’t begin to tell you. I’d spend 20-odd hours on a plane for that.
From the PR wire:
SWEDISH RIFF LORDS DEVILLE MAKE FIRST TRIP TO AUSTRALIA
Swedish riff lords Deville make their first trip to Australia next year having today announced plans for an extensive national tour on the back of multiple festival appearances.
Born in 2004, Deville have developed through a haze of Rock, Stoner and Metal sounds, creating something unique which has seen them support the likes of Red Fang, Torche, Fu Manchu, Truckfighters and tour the US, UK and Europe many times over, playing a host of the world’s best venues and festivals.
With albums signed to Heavy Psych Sounds, Buzzville Records, Small Stone Records and Sweden’s Fuzzorama Records, the band have given 15 years of service to Rock’n’Roll, a feat rarely realised in today’s music business. This tour will celebrate the milestone.
March/April 2020 sees the Swedes travel to Australia for their first ever tour of the country. Presented by Beats Cartel, the tour racks up eight dates in four states/territories and will see the band play with the likes of Germany’s Kadavar and appear at annual boutique guitar fest Mojo Burning in Brisbane along with new offering Germanium Daze in Perth.
Lead singer Andreas Bengtsson says of the upcoming tour “Touring Australia for the first time is of course a huge thing for us and doing it when the band is turning 15 years old makes it even better. We’re thrilled to share the stage during this run with bands such as Kadavar, Nebula and Temples and not to forget our touring partners Astrodeath. This will be a good one, hope to see you all at a show.”
In support of the tour nationally are high energy Sydney heavy duo Astrodeath, who have themselves had an amazing drop into the scene having supported the likes of 1000mods, Nick Oliveri and Batpiss along with also landing festival slots at Mojo Burning (QLD) and Germanium Daze (WA) in what is a very short time at the fray.
Catch Deville this Autumn, making their way across the country coast to coast for what will be a fun and energetic display of European hard Rock. Tickets are onsale now through www.beatscartel.com.
Beats Cartel Presents: DEVILLE 2020 AUSTRALIAN TOUR – “15 Years of Rock’n’Roll” Touring with ASTRODEATH Thursday March 26 MELBOURNE The Tote Friday March 27 MELBOURNE Cherry Bar Saturday March 28 BRISBANE MOJO BURNING FESTIVAL Feat. Temples (UK), Kadavar (GER), Steve Smyth and many more Wednesday April 01 CANBERRA The Basement Thursday April 02 SYDNEY Frankies Pizza Friday April 03 NEWCASTLE Stag and Hunter Saturday April 04 SCARBOROUGH GERMANIUM DAZE *Feat Kadavar (GER), Nebula (USA), The Floors and many more Sunday April 05 PERTH Lucy’s Love Shack
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 27th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
The enduring legacy of Blue Cheer — who did no less than shepherd the transition between the ’60s rock and the heavy ’70s, setting a significant blueprint for the latter in terms of tone and bluesy approach — need not be recounted here. Along with the likes of Cream, Jimi Hendrix, and others who took a more volatile turn on the era’s psychedelia and volume push, they were a pivotal act and the work they did in their original run from 1966-1972, as well as in various periods thereafter, continues to resonate, with 1968’s Vincebus Eruptum and 1969’s OutsideInside (discussed here) rightly considered landmarks in the aforementioned temporal and stylistic shift. In a word, they were “important.” They mattered.
There have been plenty of Blue Cheer covers along the way, from artists across the globe, but as regards tribute albums, 1999’s Blue Explosion: A Tribute to Blue Cheer (also discussed here) stands in singular testament to the band’s affect on underground heavy rock and roll and doom. Issued by Italy’s Black Widow Records, it was 16 songs from 15 separate artists, totaling about 78 minutes of material with the following tracklisting:
1. Pentagram, “Doctor Please”
2. Internal Void, “Parchment Farm”
3. Hogwash, “Magnolia Caboose Babyfinger”
4. Thumlock, “Out of Focus”
5. Natas, “Ride with Me”
6. Fireball Ministry, “Fortunes”
7. Norrsken, “Pilot”
8. Garybaldi, “Fresh Fruit & Iceburgs”
9. Rise and Shine, “Sun Cycle”
10. Wicked Minds, “Just a Little Bit”
11. Standarte, “Sandwich”
12. Space Probe Taurus, “Second Time Around”
13. Drag Pack, “Come and Get It”
14. Vortice Cremisi, “I’m the Light”
15. Ufomammut, “Peace of Mind”
16. Pentagram, “Feathers From Your Tree”
Obviously a few immediate standout names in there. First (and last) is Pentagram, who open and close the proceedings with “Doctor Please” and “Feathers From Your Tree” — two choice cuts as regards the Blue Cheer catalog. It ain’t “Summertime Blues,” which is probably Blue Cheer‘s most known single, but you’ll notice no one takes that on, and that seems like a purposeful decision on the part of the label in terms of staying away from the obvious move. Either way, as regards Pentagram, it’s important to consider the timing. This isn’t Pentagram in 1985 or even in 2009. Victor Griffin is nowhere to be found. This is many years before Sean “Pellet” Pelletier would take over as frontman Bobby Liebling‘s manager/caretaker, and despite the best and noble efforts of Joe Hasselvander handling drums, guitar and bass, Liebling sounds like a human being in the throes of a well-documented heroin addiction. Pentagram were signed to Black Widow at the time, and in 1999 they issued Review Your Choices, which was followed in 2001 by Sub-Basement, and if you know those records, they sound like rough years. You can hear that here too.
Highlights, however, include early-Ufomammut‘s psychedelic rendition of “Peace of Mind,” Internal Void paying simultaneous tribute to Blue Cheer and Cactus with “Parchment Farm,” the shimmering proto-proto-metal of Sweden’s Norrsken — the predecessor that birthed both Witchcraft and Graveyard — doing “Pilot” from 1970’s The Original Human Being, Fireball Ministry‘s “Fortunes” and Rise and Shine‘s “Sun Cycle.” Add to that list Argentina’s Natas, who would soon enough be known as Los Natas, doing a rare song in English with “Ride with Me,” since as far as I’m concerned the guitar tone there is worth whatever price of admission the secondary market might be charging for the disc. If you ever question why I’ll listen to anything Sergio Ch. ever puts out, ever, ever, ever and forever, just listen to that guitar and you’ll have your answer as to how that loyalty was earned.
Further, the fuzz blast of Wicked Minds‘ “Just a Little Bit” and the rawness of Drag Pack‘s “Come and Get It” offer good times to fill out the second half of the disc. These, along with the ’90s post-grunge doom roll of Vortice Cremisi‘s “I’m the Light” and the sure tone of Thumlock earlier on, mean that more than just the bigger names on Blue Explosionhave something to offer. There’s a lot to dig, and yeah, some of it is pretty uneven in terms of relative volume and production-style changes from one band to the next — going from Wicked Minds to Standarte is notable, as is Thumlock to Natas, but if you take it as a collection of artists coming together on their own terms to celebrate the legacy of one of heavy rock and roll’s formative acts — i.e., if you take it for what it is — Blue Explosion is both a solid listen and worthy mission.
In my mind, it’s always paired with the 1999 Freedoom Records tribute to Trouble, Bastards Will Pay (discussed here), which I bought around the same time, and which also features Rise and Shine and Norrsken. The latter of course are of particular note because of the paucity of material they actually released — a few demos between 1996 and 1997 and a single in 1999 — and the legacy they cast across Sweden and the rest of Europe in the members’ igniting the continent’s vintage-rock movement. That is an influence that continues to spread, and while Blue Explosion might feature still-active and still-influential bands like Pentagram and Ufomammut and Fireball Ministry, as well as others, the opportunity to chase down output from Norrsken is itself an appeal for the disc as a whole.
I was fortunate enough to see Blue Cheer on what would be their final run as they supported their 2007 release, What Doesn’t Kill You…, which was the same era captured on their 2009 DVD Rocks Europe (review here) — I think the Rockpalast performance is on YouTube at this point, but get the DVD for the bonus interviews with Dickie Peterson, as his stories about Janis Joplin and Grateful Dead are nothing short of amazing — and though of course it wouldn’t have been the same as seeing them some 40 years earlier, it was a chance to relish in and pay homage to the legacy of a crucial band. They were, I can say without reservation, loud as hell. Everything The Rolling Stones were never brave enough to do more than hint at being.
Blue Explosion: A Tribute to BlueCheer isn’t the same kind of experience, of course, but it’s the same impulse, paying homage to the legacy. Whether you dig in for the academic appeal, curiosity, or just to hear some unfamiliar takes on familiar riffs, I hope you enjoy.
Thanks for reading.
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Xmas wasn’t bad. The Pecan learned the word “presents” and how to open same, and he liked the stuffed Pete the Cat and Little Blue Truck and various other such and sundry things — mostly trucks — we and others in my and The Patient Mrs.’ respective family branches got him, so that’s a win. Dude has plenty, plenty, plenty to keep him occupied. The Patient Mrs.’ sister and mother, as well as our niece and nephew on that side, stayed an extra day as well, and my sister’s oldest son came back yesterday to play video games — ace call on my part to tell the CT branch of the family to bring the Nintendo Switch — and my mother, sister, her husband and other nephew came over last night for pizza and leftovers, and it was great having everyone around. There’s a room in this house — the room I’m in now, as it happens — that’s pretty much made for hosting, and I like hosting. And I think The Patient Mrs. does too. So it works out. I dread the holidays. I really do. Got off relatively light, and got a new coffee grinder and mug to boot. So yeah.
New Year’s is next, which means nothing to me except getting used to writing 2020 instead of 2019, which usually takes at least a month, then The Patient Mrs. is going away to a conference in Puerto Rico for a couple days in January — though she’ll be working, I suspect she’ll find the relative change in climate somewhat restorative; at least that’s my hope — and I’ll be on solo duty with Pecan: Toddlerian. Dude and I spent plenty of days on our own this semester as his mom settled into her new job, so I’m not really nervous about it or anything. I’ll be tired. Big change.
I’m gonna punch out in a minute, but a couple quick things:
— The Quarterly Review was originally going to be next week. I’m pushing it back a week. It’ll start Jan. 6.
— There may be a new Gimme Radio show next Friday? I’m not sure yet.
— Going to see Clutch at Starland Ballroom on Monday. That’ll be good.
Thanks for your support in the Best of 2019, Song of the Decade and Album of the Decade posts this week. You warmed my heart, really, and I promise you, promise you, promise you, I don’t take that support for granted. Thank you.
Hope everyone who celebrated Xmas had a good ‘un, and if New Year’s is a party for you, have fun and please be safe. If you need a ride, get one.
Posted in Features on December 27th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
[NOTE: This is not the results of the best of the 2010s poll, which is ongoing. Please add your choice/choices there if you haven’t, and thanks.]
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This has been an incredibly difficult choice. It’s something I started really thinking about in the middle of last year, and even this morning I was back and forth on what my final pick would be. You know what sealed the deal for Elder‘s Lore (review here) as album of the decade?
I put it on.
And it wasn’t two minutes into the sweeping 10-minute opener “Compendium” before the deal was sealed. The then-Massachusetts-based then-trio (hey, things change) of guitarist/vocalist Nick DiSalvo, bassist Jack Donovan and drummer Matt Couto — the latter of whom recently parted ways with the band — issued Lore in 2015, and it was album of the year at the time as well. I recall agonizing over that choice as well, but in the end, my reasoning is much the same now as it was then, in that I genuinely don’t think there is another full-length record released between 2010 and 2019 that works at the level of craft Elder do on Lore while at the same time being so purely forward thinking.
Lore‘s release through Armageddon Shop and Stickman Records followed 2011’s Dead Roots Stirring (review here) on MeteorCity and felt long in the making, but the jump in sound was even further. To compare the approach of the two records, some of the differences are superficial. Elder‘s penchant since their 2008 self-titled debut (discussed here) has always been for composing songs by marrying parts together and creating a flow based more on movements than traditionalist verses and chorus. I admit there are times when I personally find this hilariously maddening, but their work still finds ways to stand pieces out and make them memorable. It was true on Dead Roots Stirring and Lore alike, but the presentation and the mission were fundamentally different between the two.
It’s a question of clarity. Where Dead Roots Stirring was (and is, if you’re listening in the present tense) more rooted in heavy rock distortion and production, the Justin Pizzoferrato-recorded Lore certainly had those elements at play — the post-guitar-as-mellotron-orchestra sweep apex of the 15-minute centerpiece title-track being a riffy example, as well as the swinging rush earlier in “Compendium,” the finish in “Spirit at Aphelion,” etc. — but the album is much more defined by DiSalvo‘s shimmering guitar and its progressive edge. It is a clean sound. And what’s more, four years since Lore came out and listening to it, my head is still spinning. I mean it. You would have to sit with a flowchart for each track and measure out where one part ends and the next starts. And when you’re done doing that, once you have all the crescendos and twists and winding progressions measured and calculated and so on plotted, you’ll still only have one piece of Lore‘s puzzle configured, because in addition to its blindsiding, careening movements, there’s the melody.
With the prescient experimental play at the start of “Deadweight” and even in the cascade wash that emerges in that track’s second half — a glorious noise bath that leads to a galloping end that at the time seemed outshined by the title-track before it and now stands as all the more testament to Lore‘s enduring quality — or in the lead and languid verse atop the rolling beginning of second cut “Legend,” Elder unfolded a new level of accomplishment in melodic reach instrumentally and vocally. With Donovan and Couto in rhythmic lockstep as the sure foundation of DiSalvo‘s tonal breadth, the three-piece used traditional power trio dynamics to pull tradition apart at the seams. And for an album that’s an hour long and begins at such an immediate rush with the opening guitar figure of “Compendium” daring the listener to keep pace, it still remains eminently listenable and enjoyable because of the work the melody does in carrying across all its many changes. Along with Couto‘s essential swing, it’s the melody most responsible for tying Lore together and uniting its five component tracks as a single work.
As the only song under 10 minutes long (it’s 9:28), “Deadweight” allows itself the indulgence of a little classic heavy rock soloing, but even in that, it takes its own approach. Consider the penultimate cut at four minutes in. DiSalvo, shredding. Donovan is holding down the central groove with Couto punctuating righteously. Then, at 4:14, they pivot, and it’s so quick and so sharply executed that you don’t even realize what you’re in is a transitional part and that 20 seconds later, they’re going to be off on the “next riff” along the song’s building course. Lore is rife with these moments, which are the kind of thing that, if they were on someone else’s record once, they’d make the whole album better. With Elder, they’re just another part on the way to the next part. It continues to be an astonishing work.
Of course, Lore closes with the 10:32 “Spirit at Aphelion,” and though one hardly thinks of any part of the 2LP as being understated — it is not without its indulgent stretches — the ending fadeout seems to ride the tension of its final riff in such a way as to hint at more to come. One almost expects the song, which is a victory lap in summarizing what precedes and certainly plenty dynamic in its stretch prior, to fade back in for another round, even after it’s over. But the end is, in fact, the end, and it would be just two years before Elder turned around and offered Reflections of a Floating World (review here) as the inevitable follow-up and next forward step in their ongoing progression. By then, the impact of Lore was already being felt in the work of other bands, and the ensuing two years, as well as the reception to the fourth long-player and their concurrent touring, have only seen Elder‘s influence spread further.
I could have made any number of choices here. But in looking back over the last decade, no single release seemed to encapsulate a vision of what heavy rock and roll could be in the way Lore did, and no single band have manifest their vision in way Elder have. It is an epicenter from which they and heavy rock as a whole will continue to grow.
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Honorable Mention
Like I just said, I could’ve made any number of choices here. When I went to bed last night, it was planning to write about Om, so there you go. We’ll do the poll results early in January, but here are a few more of my own picks for album of the decade contention:
Om, Advaitic Songs
YOB, Clearing the Path to Ascend
Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, Blood Lust
Clutch, Earth Rocker
Graveyard, Hisingen Blues
High on Fire, Snakes for the Divine
All Them Witches, Lightning at the Door
I’ll leave it there so as not to spoil anything for the poll to come, but yeah, there are plenty of noteworthy contenders. If you have one or 50 you’d like to add, please feel free to leave a comment here, or, of course, hit up the decade-end poll and drop a list there. Either way, your thoughts and consideration are always appreciated.
Posted in Features on December 26th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
To be perfectly honest, I don’t feel the need to plead much of a case here. The 18-minute closer from Oregon trio YOB‘s 2014 opus, Clearing the Path to Ascend (review here), is its own best argument for being the best song that came out in the 2010s. And though it was obviously a while back, I also named it the song of the year when it came out. So who wants to be redundant? Here’s some of what I said about it at the time:
“Marrow” is led into by “Unmask the Spectre,” a 15-minute exploration that hits its apex late. There is, however, about 40-seconds of ambient guitar and spacious effects swirling after the chaos has subsided, and the fadeout of that gives flowing movement into the silence from which the opening guitar line of “Marrow” emerges. It’s less than a minute before bassist Aaron Rieseberg and drummer Travis Foster join in, which leaves guitarist/vocalist Mike Scheidt to set the initial atmosphere for what will become YOB‘s boldest and most melodic construction to date. Already by then, Clearing the Path to Ascend has taken listeners up, down and through an emotional torrent, songs like the raging “Nothing to Win” and the perpetually-searching “In Our Blood” establishing the dynamic course beyond YOB‘s beginnings — which, make no mistake, are essential to the makeup of what we think of today as cosmic doom — and further into something wholly their own; a sound as distinct and identifiable as Sleep‘s is to Sleep, as Neurosis‘ is to Neurosis. — read more here.
It’s been five years, and YOB have put out 2018’s Our Raw Heart (review here) in the meantime, moving from Neurot Recordings to Relapse Records in the process. So does the above still apply? Yes, and maybe even more than it did then.
The subsequent half-decade since it came out has done nothing to dull the impact of “Marrow,” from its wistful opening and closing guitar figure to the grand sweep of its melodic chorus, to the sheer grace of its crescendo, which arrives not as some overstated wash of noise or volume for volume’s sake, but a moment driven by emotion even more than tone. And the lyrics there, purposeful in their simplicity, say it gorgeous and plain like the truest of American art forms:
“Restless souls Flickering light Painted in gold Tearing at the seams Needing to feel One true moment Needing to feel Something true”
That’s you, at a show. You’re one of the restless souls in the gold flickering light needing to feel one true moment. When Mike Scheidt sings those lines and the ones before them, he’s talking about the communication between artist and audience, the experience of performance that is unique to stage arts — theatre and music. Painters (usually) don’t paint on stage. Writers (usually) don’t write on stage. But that “one true moment.” That “something true” is the genuine expression that performance represents to Scheidt, and presumably YOB as a whole.
But the key word there is “needing,” and what the lyrics to “Marrow” leave largely unsaid is the need on the part of the band itself. It is represented as a kind of searching felt beneath the surface, and after a stream of consciousness first verse, the song unfolds into the self-aware pre-chorus thusly:
“All these words Are dust within my mind In these times That burn within our sight Yearning to know Deep into the marrow”
Of course, YOB are not the first band to write about the experience of creative life, but if one takes the song at its own level, the difference is the level on which they’re engaging it. It’s not skin, muscle or bone. It’s marrow. It is the deepest level. The essential charge in the electron in the nucleus of an atom. YOB earned the title of the following LP by showing their raw heart first on “Marrow,” and in its performance, from Scheidt, Aaron Rieseberg and Travis Foster, it is something unmatched in their catalog, which spans nearly 20 years of output. But while “Marrow” remains superlative, it didn’t happen in a vacuum.
Consider the context of the grand YOB closers that have been a running theme throughout their career. I recounted the list at the time as well, but to reiterate, I’m thinking of the title-tracks of 2003’s Catharsis and 2004’s The Illusion of Motion (discussed here), “The Mental Tyrant” from 2005’s The Unreal Never Lived (discussed here), the title-track from 2009’s The Great Cessation (review here), and “Adrift in the Ocean” from 2011’s Atma(review here).
Our Raw Heart stepped away from the modus somewhat in that its eponymous finale wasn’t the longest song on the record — that would be “Beauty in Falling Leaves,” two tracks earlier — but both of those seemed to build on what was done on Clearing the Path to Ascend. The point though is that “Marrow” didn’t just arrive out of nowhere. It came as the culmination of years of exploring texture and bringing together emotionality and sonic heft, the idea that something heavy could be a ritual of spirit as much as volume.
It was a new level of achievement for YOB, and it and the album that surrounded cemented their place among the most integral American bands of their generation, but more than that, it validated the connection between their audience and their music. It made it real. Among “Marrow”‘s accomplishments in pushing the band’s sound to places it had hinted at before, it was an open, real, honest look at what it means to be on either side of the subject/object divide, and maybe it even broke down that barrier a little bit, at least when it comes to a fan’s connections to YOB‘s own work.
It was that true moment, preserved.
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Honorable Mention
There are, of course, many arguments to be made for many other songs. A few off the top of my head:
Stoned Jesus, “I’m the Mountain”
Elder, “Lore”
Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, “I’ll Cut You Down”
Sleep, “Giza Butler”
Om, “Gethsemane”
Neurosis, “At the Well”
Colour Haze, “Grace”
Clutch, “D.C. Sound Attack”
Graveyard, “The Siren”
That’s nine, so I guess if you want to package this in some order as a top 10, you could. I’m content to leave it as is, since it’s all relative anyway. But consider the impact of that Stoned Jesus track or Elder‘s “Lore” in igniting and inspiring new bands. Same with Uncle Acid. Like “Marrow” above, these are the songs that continue to resonate and have an effect not just on the listeners, but the artists themselves and other bands in the underground ecosystem. I don’t think that just because the decade is ending that will stop, either. These works, which have already lasted a span of years, will continue to shape the experiences of others, and art will continue to grow outward from other art. There are few things so beautiful in the universe.
If you have a pick you’d like to add to any of the above, please feel free to do so in the comments. The more the merrier, and thanks for reading.
Posted in Features on December 24th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
[PLEASE NOTE: These are not the results of the year-end poll, which is ongoing. If you haven’t contributed your list to the cause yet, please do so here.]
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Make no mistake, my friends. 2019 was the year it went off the rails.
Every 12-month period brings a lot of records, and they all seem overwhelming, but this was the first year I’ve ever felt quite so helpless when it came time to sit down and actually make my list. Of course, I keep running notes all year long, but even so, ordering everything, bringing it all together? What a mess.
I almost thought of breaking it down into smaller lists in addition to the big one, subgrouped by style. But then, where does doom end and sludge begin? What about psych and heavy rock? Should prog get its own list? And what the hell counts as prog?
In the end, that didn’t seem like it would be doing me any favors, so we’ll stick with the one big list and then others for debut releases and another for EPs, splits, demos and so on. You know, the usual.
Pretty sure I say this every year too, but it bears repeating: if you read any of the below — and thanks if you do — and have a response, be nice. If I’ve forgotten something — and yes, I have; I’m sure of it — that you think needs to be included, and you want to leave a comment that says so, please, by all means. But keep it civil. I know people are passionate about this stuff and so am I, but consider there are probably over 200 offerings covered here by the time you get through all the lists and honorable mentions, and I’m one person. I’m doing my best, and though I try not to, I tend to take being called a dumbass personally. So yeah, chill out and please be constructive in calling me a dumbass. Words matter.
A few hard choices here, most especially for album of the year. I was back and forth with each of the top three in the top spot for a good long while, and it might change again between now and when this post goes up. But it’s been that kind of year. In 2018, there was no question. It was Sleep all the way. The question was what came after that. This year has been different without that kind of duh, punch-in-the-face obvious pick. Relative parity isn’t a bad thing though.
Enough delay. The usual parameters apply. These are a combo of my personal listening habits and what I think are the most important records/achievements of the year, critical importance, etc.
Here we go:
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The Top 50 Albums of 2019
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#50-31
50. Hazemaze, Hymns of the Damned
49. Lightning Born, Lightning Born
48. Bees Made Honey in the Vein Tree, Grandmother
47. PH, Osiris Hayden
46. Thunderbird Divine, Magnasonic
45. Abrahma, In Time for the Last Rays ofLight
44. Uffe Lorenzen, Triprapport
43. Swallow the Sun, When a Shadow is Forced into the Light
42. Caustic Casanova, God How I Envy the Deaf
41. The Devil and the Almighty Blues, Tre
40. SÂVER, They Came With Sunlight
39. Ogre, Thrice as Strong
38. Lamp of the Universe, Align in the Fourth Dimension
37. Vokonis, Grasping Time
36. Sacri Monti, Waiting Room for the Magic Hour
35. Across Tundras, The Rugged Ranges of Curbs and Broken Minds
34. Duel, Valley of Shadows
33. Orodruin, Ruins of Eternity
32. Zaum, Divination
31. Inter Arma, Sulphur English
Notes: Honestly, if this had been the top 20 of the year, I’d still call 2019 a win. Aside from the fact that I somehow thought Caustic Casanova would enjoy coming in a number 42, the sheer quality of this stuff should tell you what kind of year 2019 was. Inter Arma’s Sulphur English was a significant achievement in genre melding, and Orodruin’s return after more than a decade since their last LP was a masterclass in doom worship. Debut albums from SÂVER and Thunderbird Divine and Lightning Born showed marked promise of things to come — and there’s more on them below as well — while Zaum’s, Bees Made Honey in the Vein Tree’s and Lamp of the Universe’s meditations, Vokonis’ noise, Abrahma’s emotive progressivisim, Swallow the Sun’s melodic melancholy, Sacri Monti’s boogie, and whatever the hell PH were doing on Osiris Hayden remind just how much the word “heavy” can encompass. The Devil and the Almighty Blues, Duel and Uffe Lorenzen and Hazemaze were musts here, and Ogre are perennial favorites whose work always brings a doomly grin. Don’t sleep on any of it.
Until they put out a complementary follow-up record of such fare, one might’ve accused Idaho three-piece Sun Blood Stories of becoming less experimentalist/droned-out/noisy on Haunt Yourself, but they seem to have met their quota one way or the other with the Oct. 2019 advent of Static Sessions Vol. 1. Still, it’s melody, heavy post-rock/psychedelic drift and emotive soul that rule the day on the crushing and enriching Haunt Yourself, and no complaints from me on that.
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29. Church of the Cosmic Skull, Everybody’s Going to Die
I don’t have to do anything more than read the name of the album to have the chorus of the title-track stuck in my head, and it’s a reminder that although the Nottingham troupe put so much into their progressive style and vocal harmonies and arrangements, and a more conceptual theme in the case of Everybody’s Going to Die — their answer to 2018’s excellent Science Fiction (review here) — their roots are in songcraft, and it’s the foundation of songcraft that lets them soar. Would be higher on the list if it weren’t so new.
With their sixth album, Indianapolis’ Devil to Pay collect 10 tracks of unpretentious-almost-to-a-fault of straightforward heavy rock songwriting that continues to be woefully underappreciated. They have become utterly reliable in that regard — you know, to a certain extent, what’s coming — but the vocals of guitarist Steve Janiak (also Apostle of Solitude) and some more metallic turns to the riffing give Forever, Never or Whenever a subtlety that holds up all the more on repeat visits. I don’t know if Devil to Pay will ever get their due, but suffice it to say, they’re due.
If you’re of a certain age, you remember when the first Playstation came out and everyone looked around at their Nintendos and Segas like, “What the hell am I messing around with Mario Golf for? I could be playing Resident Evil!” That’s kind of what Howling Giant are as compared to “regular” rock bands. They’re the Playstation of heavy: that next progressive step forward carrying an inhuman amount of swagger and personality while still delivering a stepped-up product from their would-be peers. The scariest thing about The Space Between Worlds is it’s their first LP. One looks forward to the next generation.
I know for a fact that bassist Pat Bruders and drummer Henry Vasquez had a hand in writing some of the material on Saint Vitus’ second self-titled LP, and yet the album so much bears the indelible mark of guitarist Dave Chandler that it’s hard not to think of it all as his. The album marked their first release with original singer Scott Reagers since 1995’s Die Healing (discussed here) and featured among their trademark low-tuned slog, an actual punk song, which showed the grinning glee that underlies all they do. Four decades on, Saint Vitus sound like they’re having fun. How is that not a win?
Woodsy Rocky Mountain psychedelia abounded on Boise foursome Ealdor Bealu’s second full-length, and their blend of landscape meditations and grounded heavy progressive melodicism made Spirit of the Lonely Places as much about impact as about space, though of course the real joy was the experience of the entirety. Very much a sophomore album, it learned lessons from 2017’s Dark Water at the Foot of the Mountain (review here) that one only hopes the band will continue to push forward in scope as they so gracefully did here.
Though hard- and to-date quick-working Maryland trio Yatra have already moved on and are looking ahead to releasing their second album, Blood of the Night (review here), their Grimoire-delivered debut, Death Ritual, is impossible to ignore for the impact it had on reminding listeners of the impact that primeval extreme sludge can have. Another couple tours and some bigger label — Relapse, Prosthetic, eOne, Season of Mist, whoever — will decide they’re “ready,” whatever that means, and then sign them and I won’t be cool enough to do track premieres for them anymore, but as far as accolades go, Yatra earn whatever they get and Death Ritual stands among 2019’s most landmark debuts. They’ve already outdone it, but it’s a stunner just the same.
Ecstatic Vision frontman Doug Sabolik has cast himself in the mold of Arthur Brown or Dave Wyndorf or probably seven or eight dudes who were in Hawkwind at some point as a manic-but-stoned space rock preacher with as he and his band behind him plunge headfirst-or-feetfirst-it-doesn’t-matter-because-your-body-is-an-illusion-man into the molten multicolor void. For the Masses. The ‘masses,’ such as they are, should be so lucky, but the double-meaning is the real tell for where the Philly unit are coming from. Their shows are the masses — gatherings of spirit and song to give praise to the willful expansion of mind. If you can’t get behind that, you might as well go get a job or something. This ain’t no lightweight party for squares and dabblers. This is a high-potency happening for werewolves on motorcycles and freaks of all stripes. Get weird stay weird. Ecstatic Vision are one mostly-mellow 15-minute “Spine of God”-style psych-epic away from perfection.
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22. Beastwars, IV
Released by Destroy Records. Reviewed June 27.
But for the circumstances that brought it about — i.e. Beastwars vocalist Matt Hyde’s cancer — the unexpected fourth installment in the Beastwars trilogy was nothing if not welcome. An grand-feeling sense of largesse was nothing new to the New Zealand four-piece, but after breaking up and getting back together to make the album, the grim sincerity with which they presented this exploration of mortality and betrayal by one’s own body was no less palpable than the undulating riffs that threatened, as ever, to consume all in their path. I don’t know their future plans in terms of continuing to write and/or record, but there are reports of touring beyond Aus/NZ for 2020, so one way or another, stay tuned for more from them. Whether or not they do anything else, IV was a triumph in spirit and execution.
With the nine songs of Slow Burn Suicide, Brooklyn’s Eternal Black began to unveil the true depth of their project. Their 2017 debut, Bleed the Days (review here), was well received, and rightly so, but operated more in a straight-ahead doom sphere. The second outing, by contrast, delved into a particular vision of the style informed by the crunch of peak-era New York noise and crossover hardcore, and it succeeded not just because it did this, but because it did so around a conjuration of memorable riffs and tracks building on accomplishments carried over from its predecessor. Is this an awaited arrival of next-generation ‘New York doom’? Will theirs be a blueprint others will follow? It’s impossible to know now, and their next album will be telling either way, but the course they’ve set is significant.
It may have been the Tony Iommi guest appearance that got Swedish doom legends Candlemass — the world’s earliest and foremost purveyors of doom both classic and epic — their recent Grammy nomination, but it was the long-overdue reunion with original vocalist Johan Längquist that made the album as a whole as powerful as it was. Pairing Längquist’s theatrical and vital approach with founding bassist Leif Edling’s second-to-none doomcraft, The Door to Doom was a catapult not to the bygone days of the band’s landmark debut, 1986’s Epicus Doomicus Metallicus, but an inspired look at not just what might’ve been had Längquist remained with the band longer, but what might still be if he does this time around. Candlemass have been through their share of singers, but as fresh as The Door to Doom sounded, it’s hard not to hope for something more than a one-off with he who got there first. The songs, the spirit, the sheer heart poured into Candlemass’ doom some 35 years past the band’s start only emphasizes how special they have always been.
Anyone who might’ve predicted Nebula getting into the studio and making a new album was either in the room when it happened or talking out their ass. And speaking of, was Nebula’s Holy Shit named for the shock one might’ve felt at its existence, or the surprise at how good it actually sounded when you put it on? I don’t know. I probably won’t ever know. It was the best title I saw all year, but more than that, it was a Nebula record, fueled by the classic riffing and unmitigated desert punk soul of founding/guitarist Eddie Glass, whose absence from the heavy underground for the last decade left a void only too many others whiffed on filling. Holy Shit showed just how singular a player Glass was and is, and how much character there is in his style, particularly in solos, but also in rhythmic changes, and so on. I won’t discount the work of bassist Tom Davies and drummer Mike Amster in making Nebula what they are in this incarnation — they’re essential, obviously — but there’s simply no denying that presence at the band’s core.
This was a heavy rock record that had everything. Everything. It had songs, style, ups, down, purples, greens, ins, outs, all kinds of whathaveyou. Riffs forever. Valley of the Sun should keep their eyes on Sasquatch, because if they want it, that path is theirs. I know the Cincinnati outfit have had trouble keeping lineups together, but if they can hold onto one, and maybe after their next record start touring more, domestically and abroad — not at all a minor ask, I know — then people will catch on. Old Gods is evidence of the fact that they genuinely have something to offer, and frankly, it’s not at all the first such effective case they’ve made in their career. But they’ve never put anything out that wasn’t a step forward, and yet they’ve never lost sight of the roots of their initial inspiration. And they’ve never sacrificed the song for the riff, which so many do. They’ve only ever gotten better. Let Old Gods be a step toward them getting attention they’ve long since deserved.
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17. Kadavar, For the Dead Travel Fast
Released by Nuclear Blast. Reviewed Oct. 28.
In style and production, For the Dead Travel Fast is the most vintage-sounding offering Berlin trio Kadavar have made in over a half decade, yet neither is it looking backward wistfully toward 2013’s Abra Kadavar (review here) or giving up the modern clarity of 2017’s Rough Times (review here) or 2015’s Berlin (review here). Instead, it strikes a balance with a more sinister edge à la Uncle Acid in songs like “Children of the Night” and “Demons in My Mind” — both singles — and makes a home for itself between proto-metal and garage doom. Whatever genre tag you want to give it — and that might vary from track to track, mind you — it’s unmistakably Kadavar, with the signature hooks and memorable craftsmanship that have made them one of the decade’s most pivotal heavy bands. The real challenge at this point in their career is not to take for granted that Kadavar will produce material of such quality, because, frankly, that’s all they’ve ever done.
Welsh sci-fi cosmic doomers Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard billed Yn Ol I Annwn as the final installment of a trilogy that includes their two prior LPs, 2015’s Noeth Ac Anoeth (review here) and 2016’s Y Proffwyd Dwyll (review here), and while that may be true thematically, there’s also no question the third is a marked step forward from anything they’ve done before. They’re one foot out of the airlock and into space as their synth-laden longform riffing and melodies take them to places they’ve not yet gone, explorations of sight as much as sound, aural translation of colors humans aren’t gifted to see. Their songs across the 65-minute span unfold with the grace of a gravity spiral, pulling the listener deeper into the proceedings with each new phase that emerges until, what, obliteration? Stellar genesis? I’m not sure. They’ve reportedly got one more record to make and then they’re done. If that’s true, they’ll be missed then they’re gone.
They’ve found their way to die, and it’s upon an altar of classic metal and doom. And honestly, they make a pretty good case for it. Departed Souls is the third full-length from the Boston unit and their most stylistically realized work yet, with vocalist Brendan Radigan giving a standout performance alongside the guitars of Chris Corry and Renato Montenegro, the bass of Justin DeTore and Michael “Q” Quartulli’s drums, as the entire band taps into vibes from mid-’70s Black Sabbath and brings them to bear with an energy that is unlike anything in Magic Circle’s history. 2015’s Journey Blind (review here) brought in NWOBHM flash in the guitar work, sure enough, but Departed Souls doesn’t so much carry the torch of classic metal as it does use it to burn down the whole village and rebuild it in the five-piece’s image. From their doomed beginnings on their 2013 self-titled debut (review here) to now, they’re an act who’ve genuinely earned cult status. If you can find a backpatch, buy it.
Controversy! Drama! Well, probably not, but at very least some respectful disagreement on my part. You see, Poland’s Spaceslug have stated publicly that their latest release, the late-2019 surprise Reign of the Orion is an EP. Their albums regularly top 50 minutes, and at 36 minutes, I guess relative to that, you can see where they’re coming from. However, with the flow of these five songs and the ease with which they carry the listener from front-to-back through the listening experience, I’m sticking to my guns and calling Reign of the Orion an album. Sorry guys. True, it’s shorter than the other full-lengths, but it’s got everything you could ask an album to have in terms of how tracks like “Spacerunner” and the shouty “Half-Moon Burns” play into each other, and the fluidity of the outing on the whole is inarguable. An LP by any other name? Whatever you or they want to call it, there’s no question in my mind Reign of the Orion is one of 2019’s best records. If they insist on it being an EP, then it’s the best one of the year, but I still say it belongs in another category altogether, so here it is.
As hyper-crowded as London is with bands at this moment in history, there continue to be acts who sneak through with an individualized and intriguing perspective on doom and heavy rock, and Green Lung are a perfect example, learning from fellow Brits like Alunah and Elephant Tree and incorporating folk and forest goth vibes to their debut album, Woodland Rites. Laced with organ and stuck-in-the-head choruses like “Let the Devil In” and the creeper “Templar Dawn,” the record also pushed into drifting verses on “Into the Wild,” setting up future experimentation with atmospheric variety and genre manipulation. If part of any first album’s appeal is the potential it represents, Green Lung’s offers plenty, but wherever their subsequent course may or may not take them, their accomplishments here shouldn’t be overlooked. Woodland Rites is nothing less than the heavy rock debut album of the year, and though they emerge from a packed field, the work they do to stand themselves out already carries their mark and an apparent will toward progression. They’re on their way.
My head immediately goes to the hooks of “Ten Days” and “Ascension Day” and “Savage Heart,” but the up-down surges of guitar in “Old News/New Fire” and the midtempo soulfulness in “A Thousand Miles” are no less resonant when it comes to the actual listening experience of the fifth Lo-Pan LP. Subtle, when it came to living up to its name, as much wasn’t as it was. Flourishes of harmony in the vocals of Jeff Martin, the pops in Jesse Bartz’s snare punctuating and propelling in kind, turns in Scott Thompson’s bass work twisting around the guitar of Chris Thompson, a relative newcomer to the fold making his debut with the band and showing no apparent trouble fitting in. I don’t imagine Lo-Pan is an easy band to join, especially at this point. They thrive on personality clash and, through years of touring, have a chemistry they’ve built between them that comes through even on their recordings. Nonetheless, Subtle is their clearest, sharpest-edged work yet, and as tight as their songwriting has become, they still groove and groove mightily. They are a treasure of American heavy rock and roll. Believe it.
While members of Roadsaw have spent the intervening years in projects like Kind, White Dynomite, Sasquatch and Murcielago, the Boston heavy rock kingpins have indeed been missed, and Tinnitus the Night works quickly to show why. It’s been well over 20 years since their first LP — hell, it’s been eight since they put out their 2011 self-titled (review here) — but their craft is at its own level, and Tinnitus the Night comes barreling through with “Shake” and “Along for the Ride” and “Final Phase” before opening up to broader fare on side B with “Find What You Need,” “Under the Devil’s Thumb” and “Midazolam” ahead of the subdued finale “Silence,” and the result is nothing less than a classic heavy rock LP structure as befitting what is itself a classic heavy rock LP. What’s Roadsaw’s future? I don’t know. It took them the better part of a decade to make this one happen, so take from that what you will, but to me, all it says is there’s even more reason to be grateful they got it done and out. To say the songs deserve that is putting it mildly.
I’m not doing a ‘song of the year’ post, but if I was, Worshipper’s “Coming Through” might be it. The opening track from the Boston four-piece’s second album, Light in the Wire, marries classic pop drama in its melody with careening progressive riffing, and sets the tone for a record that is of both future and past, twistingly complex and yet immediately accessible, immersive as an entirety and still comprised of standout moments. These aren’t contradictions in Worshipper’s skillful hands, but the stuff of what’s already becoming their own take on rock. Tied together through melody, skillful rhythmic intricacy and solid structural foundations, “Light in the Wires,” “Visions from Beyond,” “Wither on the Vine” and others throughout post their own triumphs en route to enhancing the album as a whole, while “Nobody Else” and closer “Arise” underscore the emotive basis from which the perspective of the whole LP emanates. There are a lot of “next-gen” heavy rock bands out there weaving prog elements and traditional riffing together to some degree or other. Few, if any, can write a song like Worshipper can. I mean it. This band is something special.
What is there to say about Solace? A band who, nine years after revealing the expectation-slaughtering masterpiece A.D. (review here), return with three-fifths of a swapped-out lineup and simply do it again? This band is explosive. Really. Like, they might explode at any minute. It’s a miracle The Brink ever happened. I’ll be honest, I had my doubts. But Solace are a force like nothing else I’ve ever encountered in music. They take metallic aggression, hardcore’s sense of self-righteousness and heavy rock’s groove, set it all to a doomly swing and they play it in such a way as to leave you utterly dumbfounded by what you just experienced. Here’s a challenge though, for the band personally. From me to them. Do another one. Go ahead. Put out another album. You don’t even have to do it in 2020. Do it 2021. Write the songs and give me a no-holds-barred 45-minute LP of the tightest, meanest shit you’ve ever written. Because massive as the accomplishments are on The Brink, it’s the potential to build from them that resonates most here. So do it, guys. Step up and take advantage of the moment. Call me greedy if you want, I don’t care. Give me another Solace record. I dare you.
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8. Brume, Rabbits
Released by Doom Stew Records & DHU Records. Reviewed Nov. 6.
Simply a case of a band wildly outdoing themselves. Easy story, yeah? In some ways, maybe, but the truth of what Brume achieve on Rabbits. Their second long-player behind 2017’s Rooster (review here), the five-track offering sees the San Francisco three-piece of vocalist/bassist Susie McMullan, guitarist/vocalist Jamie McCathie and drummer Jordan Perkins-Lewis working with producer Billy Anderson to bring theatricality and emotionalism together in a flowing post-heavy context that’s neither derivative nor working at cross purposes. Instead, it is a gorgeous and blooming undertaking across its 43-minute span, working in its own light/dark spectrum and bringing not just the sense of trapped fragility evoked by the cover art, but a corresponding sureness of intent to its ascendant heavy surges. Like Rooster before it, it is loaded with potential, but in “Scurry” and “Lament” and “Despondence” and “Blue Jay and “Autocrat’s Fool,” there’s a patience and command that absolutely does not waver. So yes, a band outdoing themselves. But so much more too.
This may forever be known as the Mars Red Sky album they wrote in a cave, but the Bordeaux three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Julien Pras and bassist/vocalist Jimmy Kinast and drummer Matieu “Matgaz” Gazeau nonetheless plunged forward along the progressive course they charted back on 2014’s sophomore outing, Stranded in Arcadia (review here), and continued to manifest in 2016’s Apex III (Praise for the Burning Soul) (review here). Their blend of melody and tonal heft has become a hallmark of their work to this stage in their career, but The Task Eternal continues to add a sense of breadth to the proceedings, giving their sound a full three-dimensional pull that feels tailor-made for headphones and is consuming in its entirety. With experiments in structure like the pairing of “Recast” and “Reacts,” and the rushing sweep of melody in “Hollow King,” Mars Red Sky’s latest is, as ever, their finest. Outdoing themselves would seem to be the task from which the record derives its title. Fine. Just keep going. Please.
Every time I think I understand where Kings Destroy want to go as a band, they pull the rug out. That’s what Fantasma Nera is. After their 2015 self-titled (review here) third LP seemed to declare them once and for all in a space between doom and noise rooted in their respective hardcore pasts, the Brooklynite five-piece hooked up with producer David Bottrill (Tool, etc.) and composed a rock album. A real live rock album! With progressive undertones in the guitar work and the most accomplished melodicism of their career, Kings Destroy put everything they had into making Fantasma Nera and one need look no further than the title-track to hear the result of that monumental effort. It is the realization of a band challenging themselves to go so far out of their comfort zone as to be only recognizable in the most rudimentary of ways, and to say it as plainly as I can, “Dead Before” is enough of an accomplishment — and enough of a full-length, at all of 4:25 — to make this list on its own, whatever surrounds it. Song of the year. I’ll say every time I’m a Kings Destroy fan, but I’ve never been gladder to say it than I am in talking about Fantasma Nera.
If you’re saying to yourself, “Ah come on, Colour Haze are always on the list when they put out records,” I have two answers. One, you’re right, and two, if you have a problem with that, blow it out your ass. The Munich forefathers of the European heavy psychedelic underground — yup — marked their 25th anniversary this year, and did so not just by putting out an album, but by putting out We Are, which introduces a full-fledged fourth member to what’s been a three-piece since 1998. Granted, it’s not the first time guitarist/vocalist Stefan Koglek, bassist Philipp Rasthofer and drummer Manfred Merwald have worked with organist/keyboardist/synthesist Jan Faszbender, but never has the presence of keys been so integral to their work, and never has the dynamic between players shifted in the way it does on tracks like “The Real” and “Life” and “I’m With You,” with keys fleshing out melodies and enriching the bass and guitar. Add to that the Spanish-style guitar on centerpiece “Material Drive” or the operatic flash in the penultimate “Be With Me,” and it’s one more example of one of the best bands on earth refusing to rest on their laurels. Which, as it happens, is why they’re one of the best bands on earth. So hell yes, they’re on all my lists. Fact is my lists are lucky to have them.
Like nothing else I heard in 2019, Veils of Winter had repeat listenability. It was the album that, most often, when I was choosing something I actually wanted to hear, I went back to time and again. Its dark, moody psychedelic and heavy vibe stands alone among the year’s releases, and is a stylistic milestone that one only hopes other artists will pick up on. Toying with pop melodies on tracks like “Death Realms” and bringing hypnosis and clarity in kind to the subtly traditionalist winding riff of “Moonlit” — would it have been out of place on the first Witchcraft LP? — the Portland, Oregon, five-piece worked on a speedy turnaround and squashed even the significant expectations I had after their self-titled debut (review here) last year. They’ve begun to tour, so I don’t know if another full-length is in the works for 2020, but their craft is enviable in its flow and their songs are shimmering in tone and cohesion alike. Given how bold a step forward Veils of Winter is, I hear nothing in their material to this point to make me think their momentum won’t continue to carry them forward. But, you know, if not, I’d also take about six or seven records just like this one. That’d be fine too. Whatever they want, really.
Belfast, Northern Ireland, three-piece Slomatics — guitarists David Majury and Chris Couzens and drummer/vocalist/synthesist Marty Harvey — finished a narrative trilogy with 2016’s Future Echo Returns (review here), and though the storyline was always vague throughout that and the preceding two offerings, the question of how they would proceed nonetheless hung over Canyons prior to its release. The answer is in the songs themselves. From the sci-fi majesty of lumbering, rolling groove in opener and longest track “Gears of Despair” — oh, they grind — through the mega-stomp of “Telemachus, My Son” and the righteously synth-laden wash that consumes “Mind Fortresses on Theia,” Slomatics bring together concept and execution with a readiness that highlights the fact of their 15th anniversary. They are mature in their approach, yes, but the fact is their approach is so much their own and so given to their particular mode of progression that it almost can’t help but feel fresh. How could something so utterly crushing also feel rejuvenating? As they plod through finale “Organic Caverns II” ending with more waves of synth and tectonic guitar — no bass, remember — they are as restorative as they are punishing, and they stand astride that duality with neither mercy nor pretense. Canyons, whether it’s setting up a new story, building from the old, or doing something completely different, stands on its own.
My anticipation for and expectations of Year of the Cobra’s second long-player were high most especially after 2017’s Burn Your Dead EP (review here), which along with the dead, set alight the notion that the Seattle duo of bassist/vocalist Amy Tung Barrysmith and drummer Jon Barrysmith were simply a heavy/doom band. With elements of post-punk, psych wash, minimalist stretches and propulsive gallop, Ash and Dust cast itself out over an aesthetic range that set a new standard not just for Year of the Cobra, but for anyone who’d dare match them at their own game — and that list will grow with time, absolutely. As their first outing through Prophecy Productions, Ash and Dust threw itself into the very melting pot of its own ambition and emerged with songs that didn’t just bring together disparate ideas, but made them flourish and engage and challenge the listener while still proving consistent in tone and underlying groove. For a two-person, two-instrument outfit (not counting voice, though I should), they proved more malleable than many with more than twice the number of hands on deck, and pushed the notion of what heavy rock is and does forward without stopping to look back or ask for permission. They just did it, and maybe Ash and Dust is the aftermath of all that burning.
Look back over the course of this list, and you will find no shortage of bands and releases that surpassed the group in question’s past work. With Gothenburg, Sweden’s Monolord, it wasn’t just about No Comfort — their debut on Relapse, fourth full-length overall — being better than 2017’s Rust (review here), because that was pretty jolly gosh darn enjoyable, but about the band reaching a moment of transcendence to which Rust and all their prior work across 2015’s Vænir (review here) and 2014’s Empress Rising has been leading. With the six tracks of No Comfort, guitarist/vocalist Thomas Jäger, bassist Mika Häkki and drummer Esben Willems not only overcome the influences that launched them — taking full ownership of their sound and defending that claim with the sheer quality of their songwriting — and they not only become as identifiable as those influences themselves, but they overcome themselves. No Comfort means no comfort. Monolord take the simplicity that once fueled their riffing, the willful primitivism of their earliest work, and with songs like “Larvae” and “The Bastard Son” and the closing title-track use it as the foundation it was apparently always intended to be. Monolord have toured plenty and certainly their studio output has shown an increasing complexity from one LP to the next, so progression isn’t unexpected, but the manner in which Monolord have executed that progression has been. Even on “The Last Leaf,” which is arguably the most straightforward fare on the album, one hears it as them rather than the manifestation of the acts that inspired them. The same holds for “Skywards” later on, and for the immersion that takes hold as the mournful “Alone Together” plays into “No Comfort” itself. Monolord take their place among the best bands on the planet, and deliver an Album of the Year for 2019 that, like the absolute best, will have an impact lasting much longer than any period of 12 months might convey.
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The Top 50 Albums of 2019: Honorable Mention
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You didn’t think we’d stop at 50, did you? Come on. You know me better than that. The fact is that the list itself, humongous as it is, is just the start of the tip of an iceberg attached to a glacier that’s somewhere on an entire planet constructed of ice.
Honorable mentions, you say? Yeah, a few. Here they are in no order whatsoever:
Lord Vicar, Goatess, The Lord Weird Slough Feg, Zone Six, Lykantropi, Earth, White Manna, Atala, Tia Carrera, Merlin, WEEED, Híbrido, Cities of Mars, Stone Machine Electric, Bretus, Blackwolfgoat, The Black Wizards, Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell, Alunah, V, Pale Grey Lore, Leeds Point, Sons of Alpha Centauri, Spidergawd, Bus, Death Hawks, BBF, Vessel of Light, Crypt Trip, The Pilgrim, Uffe Lorenzen, Brant Bjork, Doomstress, Black Lung, Kandodo3, Monkey3, Bask, Horseburner, Zed, Bright Curse, Spillage, Sigils, Papir, Dune Sea, Destroyer of Light, Mastiff, Warp, Centrum, Varego, Lord Dying, Volcano, Saint Karloff, Firebreather, High Reeper, Bible of the Devil, Obsidian Sea, Torche, Motorpsycho, Sunn O))), Deadbird, Russian Circles, El Supremo, Pyramidal, Holy Serpent, Elizabeth Colour Wheel, Demon Head, Red Beard Wall, Onhou, Kamchatka, Iguana, Arrowhead, The Whims of the Great Magnet, Serial Hawk, Scissorfight, Monte Luna, Lingua Ignota, Valborg, Sageness, Ruff Majik, The Giraffes, High Fighter, Comacozer, Burning Gloom, Swan Valley Heights, Mark Deutrom, Cable, AVER, Superlynx, The Munsens, No Man’s Valley, Old Mexico, Skraeckoedlan, Godsleep, Øresund Space Collective Meets Black Moon Circle.
Seems cruel to leave it to you to sort through those, but I’m tempted to do just that. You might notice some bigger names there in bands like Earth, Russian Circles, Torche and Sunn O))). Nothing against those bands, but I think we’re seeing a moment where a different group of artists are taking point in terms of innovating heavy styles across an entire swath of microgenres. Either way it’s not a slight that something is here instead of above. And of course, there are plenty of up and coming groups here as well, with Ruff Majik, Elizabeth Colour Wheel — who I’m sure would be a top 30 if I knew the record better than I do — Pale Grey Lore, Monte Luna, Papir, Destroyer of Light, The Munsens, No Man’s Valley, Skraeckoedlan, and so on, but hell’s bells, there’s already a list of 50 and I’m only one man. How high is the list supposed to go and still be a list?
Bottom line: Music is as endless as space and has as much beauty in it for those willing to hear. Do more digging.
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The Top 20 Debut Albums of 2019
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1. Green Lung, Woodland Rites
2. Yatra, Death Ritual
3. Howling Giant, The Space Between Worlds
4. Thunderbird Divine, Magnasonic
5. SÂVER, They Came with Sunlight
6. Lightning Born, Lightning Born
7. Elizabeth Colour Wheel, Nocebo
8. The Pilgrim, Walking into the Forest
9. Sigils, You Build the Altar You Lit the Leaves
10. E-L-R, Maenad
11. Hey Zeus, X
12. Bellrope, You Must Relax
13. Asthma Castle, Mount Crushmore
14. Thronehammer, Usurper of Oaken Throne
15. Inner Altar, Vol. III
16. Infinity Forms of Yellow Remember, Infinity Forms of Yellow Remember
17. Hippie Death Cult, 111
18. Faerie Ring, The Clearing
19. Gone Cosmic, Sideways in Time
20. Haze Mage, Chronicles
Honorable Mention: Warp, Pelegrin, Lucy in Blue, Volcano, The Sabbathian, Red Eye Tales, Dune Sea, Dury Dava, Pharlee, Giant Dwarf, Ghost:Hello, Surya, Workshed, Children of the Sün, Burning Gloom, Temple of the Fuzz Witch.
Notes: As ever, I consider a band’s debut album something unique and separate from everything else they’ll ever do, and so worthy of highlighting in its own category. It’s a different standard in my mind, one that takes into account what a group might accomplish going forward as well as what they do on the record itself. Plus, putting out an album is hard. Getting two, three, four, five or more people to agree on anything is an accomplishment. Making a cohesive album? Come on. So yes. We see some crossover from the main list above, but I want to draw attention to Howling Giant, Thunderbird Divine and SÂVER particularly here. There’s a swath of genres represented and I feel like a couple of these releases — Sigils, Bellrope, Thronehammer, Inner Altar, Faerie Ring, Infinity Forms of Yellow Remember — didn’t get their due attention. It’s a busy year, I get it. But if you’re skimming through looking for stuff to check out, DON’T IGNORE THIS LIST. Aside from whatever line about the best of tomorrow you want to trot out, there’s important work being done by these acts today. As somebody who’s constantly behind the times, I urge you not to miss it.
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The Top 20 Short Releases of 2019
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1. Geezer, Spiral Fires
2. Ufomammut, XX
3. All Them Witches, 1×1
4. Mount Saturn, Mount Saturn
5. Dopelord, Weedpecker, Major Kong & Spaceslug, 4-Way Split
6. Horehound, Weight
7. Molasses, Mourning Haze
8. Saint Karloff & Devil’s Witches, Split
9. Here Lies Man, No Ground to Walk Upon
10. The Golden Grass, 100 Arrows
11. Mount Atlas, Mistress
12. Midas, Solid Gold Heavy Metal
13. Glory in the Shadows, Glory in the Shadows
14. Hot Breath, Hot Breath
15. Crystal Spiders, Demo
16. Red Wizard, Ogami
17. Thermic Boogie, Fracture
18. Pinto Graham, Dos
19. High Priest, Sanctum
20. Set Fire, Traya
21. Seedium, Awake
Honorable Mention: Love Gang & Smokey Mirror Split, Forebode, Land Mammal, Very Paranoia, Plague of Carcosa, Daal Dazed, Komodor, Mourn the Light & Oxblood Forge Split, High on Fire, Mount Soma.
Notes: This is probably the least complete of the lists, because it’s the hardest category for me to keep up with. EPs, singles, demos, splits and basically anything else that isn’t an album, all lumped together. Still, I stand by the picks here, and I don’t think anyone who takes on any of them will regret doing so, whether it’s All Them Witches’ surprisingly weighted first single as a trio, Mount Saturn’s debut release, or Geezer’s cosmic jams. Felt a little like cheating putting Ufomammut on there, since technically XX wasn’t new material so much as reworked stuff captured live, but if you want to call me out on it, my own listening habits also factor in, and I’ve spent plenty of time with those reimagined tracks. But anyway, I’m sure there’s a ton of stuff that hasn’t been included here, so please feel free to let me know in the comments and I’ll work accordingly.
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Postwax
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I haven’t felt comfortable with the idea of writing about it editorially, since I’ve been involved in discussions about it since before it came together and since I did the liner notes for each of the six releases (plus one to come), but I wanted to take a moment to acknowledge the incredible work done on the Postwax vinyl subscription series by Blues Funeral Recordings. Label head Jadd Shickler and design specialist Peder Bergstrand (also of Lowrider) put together six offerings that came out in the span of this year and when you hold the LPs in your hand, you can feel the passion that went into making them, from the artists in question to those curating the series in the first place. I hear tell there’s going to be a Postwax Year Two, and I don’t know if I’ll be involved or not, but I’m proud of my miniscule part in the work that went into making these and wanted to bring them to your particular attention. They are something special for those who got to partake:
Elder, The Gold and Silver Sessions
Daxma, Ruins Upon Ruins
Besvärjelsen, Frost
Big Scenic Nowhere, Dying on the Mountain
Domkraft, Slow Fidelity
Lowrider, Refractions
And while we’re talking about projects I was proud to be involved with, I also did liner notes for Acrimony’s The Chronicles of Wode box set from Burning World Records and was honored to do so. Thanks to any and everyone in question for having me involved and dealing with me blowing past deadlines one after the next. It is humbling.
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Looking Ahead to 2020
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A few names and nothing more about what definitely is and/or might be in the works for next year. Woefully incomplete, so feel free to add to it:
1000mods, Wolves in the Throne Room, Deathwhite, Mondo Drag, Drug Cult, Ocean Chief, Soldati, Sergio Ch., Mitochondrial Sun, Geezer, Mirror Queen, Mondo Generator, The Otolith, Asteroid, Yatra, Vestal Claret, Farer, Ryte, Shadow Witch, Six Organs of Admittance, Naxatras, Wolftooth, Snail, Elder, Pale Divine, Grey Skies Fallen, Ruby the Hatchet, Yuri Gagarin, Sasquatch, Godthrymm, Wo Fat, Red Mesa, CB3, Onsegen Ensemble, Insect Ark, Acid Mammoth, Ritual King, Ulls, Om.
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Thank You
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Thank you for reading, and please, if you have a thought or something you want to share in the comments, please remember to be kind to each other. We are all human beings behind our phones and keyboards, and while we’ll disagree, often in some ways and some cases, a basic level of respect is always appreciated. At least by me.
I am not so deluded as to think anyone might still be reading, but I want it on record how much I appreciate you being a part of this site and a part of my experience in making it. I’ve been ruminating all year since marking the 10th anniversary back in January about how much The Obelisk has become a part of who I am, and it’s utterly essential to my every day. The way I continue to think about it — and myself, as it happens — is a work in progress, and that would not be possible without you. One more time. Thank you. Always. Always thank you. Thank you.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 23rd, 2019 by JJ Koczan
On its surface, the track in question is an odd choice for My Diligence‘s new video. The Belgium-based studio trio/live four-piece have hooks a-plenty throughout the entirety of their Sun Rose LP, released this past January through Mottow Soundz. No shortage thereof. And the structures of songs like opener “Resentful” or the speedy “Flying Poney” (sic) are relatively straightforward, the latter owing its speed-into-crash-with-major-key-melody almost purely to Torche. By contrast, “An Asteroidal Arrow” is an atmospheric linear build, departing from the swaying chug of an earlier piece like “Backstabber” or the bounce of the later “So Pretty So Cruel” or even the surging wash of the penultimate “Serpentine” to do its own thing. It doesn’t really represent the rest of the record, which is their second behind 2015’s self-titled, at all. The vocals don’t even come in until, what, after three minutes into a four-minute song?
But then I think maybe that’s the point. And once you actually watch the clip, it makes a little more sense. There’s a story being told with the “An Asteroidal Arrow” video through the actual visuals themselves. Don’t expect a lot of flashing lights with this one — it’s more cinematic, and we see a young dancer failing time and again and eventually finding her way through the routine she’s trying to do. It’s more movie montage than rock video, to put it another way, but “An Asteroidal Arrow” is definitely suited to that kind of presentation, and it makes the alignment between the visual story — there’s no dialogue and none really needed — and the song itself all the more satisfying. My Diligence worked with director Paul Thoreau and dancer Hanne Vand Driessche on the piece and I have to think if there was a vision they started out with, it’s been entirely realized. Story and song each work to enhance the other. You can’t really ask more from a video than that.
Clip follows here, tailed by the credits and more info on the album, which you can also stream toward the bottom of the post.
Please enjoy:
My Diligence, “An Asteroidal Arrow” video premiere
A Lullabies Prod production. Réalisé avec le soutien de la Fédération Wallonie-Bruxelles
Dancer – Choreographer . Hanne Vand Driessche Writer – Director – Editor . Paul Thoreau Production manager . Robin Paul Director of photography – Colorist . Edouard Chandelle Set Design – Swiss Army Human . Mathilde Pepinster Location Manager . Frederic Delescaille Make up Artist . Kim Glineur Stylist . Chloe Thielemans Catering . Pueblo Latino
Rising up from the streets of Brussels, My Diligence is a band that in recent years have come to transcend rock in their native Belgium with a skill and ease reminiscent of their transatlantic peers. For fans already in the know, the progressive rock aplomb of established acts like Torche, Helmet and Elder resonate wildly in their sound. Big, bold and high in intensity, the Belgian trio deliver a non-stop, ass kicking brand of no-nonsense rock ‘n’ roll that scorches the sky, while leveling the playing field.
The success of their 2014 EP, Who Killed The Driver, along with their self-titled debut album from 2015 showcased as much, and at the same time laid down the foundations for Sun Rose, their eagerly awaited follow-up album, due for release this January on Mottow Soundz. Recorded at Studio Pyramide by producer François Vincent (Romano Nervoso, Thot), Sun Rose features a heavy mix of riffs – bigger and more bombastic than ever – interwoven with sincere lyrics and unforgettable grooves, and capture the trio’s fresh and exciting ideas around how they feel rock should sound.
MY DILIGENCE: John Sailor – Vocals, Guitars François Peeters – Guitars Gabriel Marlier – Drums Romain Lafuite – Moog (live)
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 20th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
Invariably, the narrative I put to any Kings Destroy release at this point is one of progression, of learning from what they’ve done in the past and pushing themselves to new places in songwriting and style. I’m a fan of the band as artists and as people, but this narrative has the advantage of being true. No two Kings Destroy albums sound the same, which is even more remarkable when you consider the first three of them had the same producer in Sanford Parker (he of Buried at Sea, Corrections House, War Crime Recordings and production work for YOB, the entire city of Chicago, and so on). For a band to have started out with this kind of ambition wouldn’t necessarily be strange. Acts come along all the time who say they want to grow and change over time. Those who manifest it as palpably as the Brooklynite five-piece have since the 2010 arrival of their first single, Old Yeller/Medusa (review here), are significantly more rare. For a thankfully short period of time, this site had a label wing called The Maple Forum. Kings Destroy‘s eight-track/44-minute debut full-length, And the Rest Will Surely Perish, was one of the very few releases that came out under that banner.
At the time, the band was comprised of vocalist Steve Murphy, guitarists Carl Porcaro and Chris Skowronski, bassist Ed Bocchino and drummer Rob Sefcik. They’d played together in various guises over the years, but Porcaro, Skowronski and Murphy were probably most known for their contributions to New York hardcore in bands like Killing Time and Uppercut, while Sefcik served in Electric Frankenstein and the sludgy Begotten. I have no problem admitting my ignorance when it comes to the history and folklore of NYHC. It’s just not my scene. But when Kings Destroy reached out about that initial 7″ and followed it with And the Rest Will Surely Perish, it seemed clear to me their hearts were in what they were doing, and the songs and groove were there. I was on board.
It’s been a while since I’ve put the record on. Earlier this year, they released their fourth LP in Fantasma Nera (review here) on Svart Records, and that’s taken precedence. What stands out from And the Rest Will Surely Perish now is the tone, and the level of detail. I visited the studio in Hoboken, briefly, while they were working on the album, and if I knew then what I know today about a recording process, I might ask the good Mr. Parker and the guitarists how the hell they managed to conjure that tone. In “Planet XXY” it has all the crunch and impact of the best of New York noise rock, but thickened all the more by Bocchino‘s basslines, comes across as fluid in a rolling groove set forth by Sefcik‘s drums. The opening salvo of “The Mountie,” “Dusty Mummy” and “The Whittler” boasts some of the best and most memorable songcraft on the album, but listening back, the level of detail gives little hints at the progression of sound the band would soon enough undertake. Vocal layering in “Dusty Mummy,” the echoing swirl of guitar late in “The Mountie,” a quick flourish of harmony in the last lines of “The Whittler”; amid the forward-facing riffs and grooves and the overarching doomed stylization, these subtleties and others that emerge throughout side B in the post-Clutch swagger at the start of “Stung” or the tempo shifts in “Two Tons” give And the Rest Will Surely Perish an identity that immediately stands it apart from being a work playing to genre. Right from the start, Kings Destroy never quite fit as just being a doom band — here’s an interesting question as a nonsequitor: what is New York doom? ask Eternal Black — whatever aspects of doom might’ve been at play. They have not grown easier to categorize over the subsequent nine years.
That debut single is revisited on And the Rest Will Surely Perish as Bocchino‘s punch-in-the-gut bassline begins “Medusa” at the start of the tracklisting’s B side, which languishes purposefully in its first half only to kick into a more active riff in its second, lulling the listener into a momentary trance with effects (another detail I’d forgotten) and before one or the other of the guitars snaps back to reality. The tension in that track, though I think even the band themselves would probably call it primitive if you could force them to sit and listen to it, was pretty emblematic of where Kings Destroy were coming from at the time. While the players involved had explored different styles together in other bands, there was a sense in “Medusa” — and likewise “Old Yeller,” positioned here as the closer — that Kings Destroy‘s natural impulse was to break out, to play faster, to give some release to the tension of the songs that they felt as much as they wanted the listener to feel it. Realization of that came in a live setting, where their inherent New York-style confrontationalism was more brought to bear.
Considering I had a (slight, tiny, minimal, not-really) hand in releasing it on CD in the first place — vinyl followed on the also-now-defunct Hydro-Phonic Records, who were so ahead of the deluxe-limited-LPs game that’s it’s sad they never got their due — it would feel self-serving to call And the Rest Will Surely Perish my favorite Kings Destroy album. Anyhow, my favorite KD record is always the next one. But no question these songs, which I hear in my head more as the live versions than the studio when I think of them, hold a special place in my heart, as does the band itself. Thinking of the fact that it will be a full 10 years since it came out next year, I can only hope there’s some kind of reissue in the works to get it back in print, which is precisely where it deserves to be.
As we round out 2019 and this decade and inherently reflect on the year and years that have been, I consider myself fortunate to have music and people like this in my life. Writing about this album — something I did plenty of at the time, but in more of a promotional context, which I enjoyed far less and is why I stopped the label — was my own little Xmas present to myself, but as always, I hope you enjoy too.
Thanks for reading.
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Would you believe the raw nerve today had in only being Friday? What the hell? Some people. Or days. Pretty ballsy, in any case.
Alarm went off this morning at 4, as usual, and I shut it off and went back to sleep for another hour and 45 minutes, because, really, screw it. The Patient Mrs. went out last night to see the new Star Wars with my family, who are all big fans — I’m the black-sheep Trekkie contrarian of the family, but they’re still supportive — and I stayed home with the (then-sleeping) Pecan, ate dinner and read a book until I started to fall asleep on the couch. I read Lincoln in the Bardolast week. It made me want to write, which George Saunders always does. That’s a dangerous impulse to ignite for me. Nothing good comes of it, and I don’t just mean my lousy first drafts.
The week prior was a week. I don’t know. The Patient Mrs. said earlier this morning that it went fast. I’m not sure I agree 100 percent, but it went like weeks go. I spent a goodly portion thinking about my favorite albums of the year, and exactly none of it actually getting a post ready to list them. Whoops. That should make for a few interesting mornings coming up, but basically my plan is to put it all together between this afternoon and Tuesday, post it on Tuesday — yeah, I know it’s Xmas Eve; I don’t care — and then sit tight over the holiday, put up a couple odds and ends the rest of next week and then hit the year-end poll(s) the week after as well as bang out a Quarterly Review, though I might honestly delay that to start on Jan. 6, depending on how much is going on otherwise. I’ll know by the middle of next week how it’s going to go.
Either way, as this will be my last opportunity to say so before the actual thing, I hope you have an enjoyable and safe holiday. I’ve made my feelings on Xmas known, and I stand by them, but if you can get a couple quiet minutes to yourself when/if you need them, eat a good meal and see family, you could surely do worse. I don’t know. Maybe we’ll all get jetskis this year. I don’t want a jetski, but you know what I mean. I’m looking forward to giving The Pecan his first Mr. Potato Head and a stuffed Pete the Cat and a few other odds and ends.
But first, the weekend of putting together the Best of 2019 list. I’ll start with 30 and go from there. There’s a lot this year, but I guess that’s true every year, and when the list goes up, I’m almost always disappointed. It never looks as big on the page as the effort that goes into making it. That’s just the bottom line. I know that some people appreciate it and I’m deeply grateful for that — it’s why I do it, frankly — but woof, what a pain in the ass, from the pre-making fretting about it, to the actual doing, to the inherent “you forgot Whatever Band I Like Or Am In!” responses that always come through. Yeah. We’ll get it done though. Got a video premiere going up Monday, but then nothing else until the list goes up on Tuesday.
Alright. Great and safe weekend. Careful out there if the roads are icy.
