Posted in Whathaveyou on December 23rd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Raw sludge and rawer doom abounds on the new four-song split from Philippines four-piece Surrogate Prey and Washington D.C.’s Et Mors, who seem to be in a contest not so much to out-heavy as to out-filth each other. I’m not sure who the winner is in that regard — Et Mors are more atmospheric, Surrogate Prey more outright scathing — but either way, it’s 37 minutes of feeling buried alive while the bands taunt you and unleash varying tonal assaults on your person.
Friendly it ain’t, but Surrogate Prey and Et Mors do make a fitting pair as the split progresses from one to the next, giving the feeling of driving deeper into your skull as it goes. To everything, churn churn churn, there is… death.
Here’s mud in yer eye from the PR wire:
Surrogate Prey & Et Mors split due to release on 12/28/20
Surrogate Prey is a Sludge Metal band from the Philippines, formed circa 2004. They’ve been putting out demos and splits since then, with their first full length album “Wisdom to Scramble Your Brains Lysergik” coming out in 2019. They just released their “Aberration” EP in December 2020 as well. They’ve played a key part in the Filipino Metal scene, being the first Sludge band there, & opening for bands such as EyeHateGod. the band features:
Rallye Ibanez – Bass, Vocals Gani Simpliciano – Drums Allan Diaz – Guitar, Vocals Bobby Legaspi – Guitar, Vocals
Et Mors is a Doom Metal band from Washington, DC, formed circa 2017 as a 4 piece with guitar, drums, bass, and keys. Since then, the band has been condensed to a 2 piece, with guitar and drums as the main instruments. After 2 demos and a single, their first full length “Lux in Morte” was released, followed by “Tombswayer” EP in late 2019. Et Mors completed the Tombswayer tour in October 2019, playing with bands such as Tel, DOUR, False Gods, Fistula, Come to Grief, & more. The band features:
Zak Suleri – Guitar, Vocals Albert Alisuag – Drums, Vocals
This split contains two tracks from each band: 1. Surrogate Prey – Banquet of the Beast (6:37) 2. Surrogate Prey – Shroud (8:03) 3. Et Mors – Damaged Pathways (13:50) 4. Et Mors – Erotic Neuroticism (8:56)
The result is 37 minutes of Doom & Sludge from two vastly different time zones.
Posted in Reviews on December 23rd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Day III of the Inexplicably Roman Numeralized Winter 2020 Quarterly Review, commence! I may never go back to actual numbers, you should know. There’s something very validating about doing Day I, Day II, Day III — and tomorrow I get to add a V for Day IV! Stoked on that, let me tell you.
You have to make your own entertainment these days, lest your brain melt like wax and drip from your nostrils.
Plurp.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Fuzz, III
Plenty of heavy rockers can come across sounding fresh. Most of the time all it takes is being young. In the case of III, the third long-player from Fuzz — Charles Moothart, Ty Segall and Chad Ubovich — they sound like they just invented it. Dig the hard-Bowie of “Time Collapse” or the made-for-the-stage opener “Returning,” or the surf-cacophony of “Mirror.” Or hell, any of it. The combination of this band and producer Steve Albini — aka the guy you go to when you want your album to sound like your live show — is correct. That’s all you can say about it. From the ’70s snarl in “Nothing People” to the triumphant melody in the second half of “Blind to Vines” and the back and forth between gritty roll and fragile prog of “End Returning,” it’s an energy that simply won’t be denied. If Fuzz wanted to go ahead and do three or four more albums with Albini at the helm in the next five years, that’d be just fine.
The narrative (blessings and peace upon it) goes that when after lineup shifts left Crippled Black Phoenix without any singers, founder Justin Greaves (ex-Iron Monkey, Earthtone9, Electric Wizard, etc.) decided to call old mates. Look. I don’t care how it happened, but Ellengæst, which is the likewise-brilliant follow-up to the band’s widely-lauded 2018 outing, Great Escape, leads off with Anathema‘s Vincent Cavanagh singing lead on “House of Fools,” and, well, there’s your new lead singer. Anathema‘s on hiatus and a more natural fit would be hard to come by. Ryan Patterson (The National Acrobat, a dozen others), Gaahl (Gaahls Wyrd, ex-Gorgoroth), solo artist Suzie Stapleton and Jonathan Hultén (Tribulation) would also seem to audition — Patterson and Stapleton pair well on the heavy-Cure-style “Cry of Love” — and there are songs without any guests at all, but there’s a reason “House of Fools” starts the record. Make it happen, Crippled Black Phoenix. For the good of us all.
Copenhagen’s Bethmoora served notice in a 2016 split with Dorre (review here) and their debut full-length, Thresholds hone destructive lumber across four low-toned tracks that begin with “And for Eternity They Will Devour His Flesh” and only get nastier from there. One imagines being in a room with this kind of rumbling, maddeningly repetitive, slow-motion-violence noise wash and being put into a flight-or-fight panic by it, deer in doomed headlights, and all that, but even on record, Bethmoora manage to cull, and when their songs explode in tempo, as the opener does late in its run, or “Painted Man” does, that spirit is maintained. Each side of the LP is two tracks, and all four are beastly, pile-driver-to-the-core-of-the-earth heavy. “Keeper”‘s wash of noise has willful-turnoff appeal all its own, but the empty space in the middle of “Lamentation” is where they go in for ultimate consumption. And yeah. Yeah.
Khan‘s second album, Monsoons is a departure in form from 2018’s Vale, if not necessarily in substance. Heavy, psychedelic-infused post-rock is the order of business for the Melbourne trio either way, but as guitarist Josh Bills gives up playing synth and doing vocals to embark on an instrumental approach with bassist Mitchell Kerr (also KVLL) and drummer Beau Heffernan on this four-track/31-minute offering, the spirit is inescapably different. Probably easier to play live, if that’s a thing that might happen. Monsoons still has the benefit, however, of learning from the debut in terms of the dynamic among the three players, and Bills‘ guitar reaches for atmospheric float in “Orb” and attains it easily, as the midsection rhythm of the closing title-track nods at My Sleeping Karma and the back end of the prior “Harbinger” manages to shine and not sound like Earthless in the process, and quite simply, Khan make it work. The vocals/synth might be worth missing — and they may or may not be back — but to ignore the breadth Khan harness in little over half an hour would be a mistake.
Jammy, psychedelic in parts, Sabbathian in “Peavey Marshall (and the Legendary Acoustic Sunn Band)” and good fun from the doomly rollout of 11-minute opener and longest cut (immediate points) “In the Cemetery” onward, the second full-length from Idaho’s The Acid Guide Service, Denim Vipers, brings considerable rumble and nod, but these guys don’t want to hurt nobody. They’ve come here to chew bubblegum and follow the riff, and they’re all out of bubblegum. Comprised on average of longer songs than 2017’s debut, Vol. 11 (review here), the four-tracker gives the trio room to branch out their sound a bit, highlighting the bass in the long middle stretch of the title-track while the subsequent “Electro-Galactic Discharge” puts its guitar solo front and center before sludge-rocking into oblivion, letting “Peavey Marshall (and the Legendary Acoustic Sunn Band)” pick up from there, which is as fine a place as any to begin a gallop to the end. Genre-based shenanigans ensue. One would hope for no less.
Based in Illinois, Vexing Hex make their debut on Wise Blood Records with Haunt, and yes, playing catchy, semi-doomed, organ-laced cult rock with creative and melodic vocal arrangements, you’re going to inevitably run into some Ghost comparisons. The newcomer three-piece are distinguished by a harder edge to their impact, a theremin on “Planet Horror” and a rawer production sensibility, and that serves them well in “Build Your Wall” and the buildup of “Living Room,” both of which play off the fun-with-dogma mood cast by “Revenant” following the intro “Hymn” at the outset of Haunt. Not quite as progressive as, say, Old Man Wizard, there’s nonetheless some melodic similarity happening as bell sounds ensue on “Rise From Your Grave,” the title of which which may or may not be purposefully cribbed from the Sega Genesis classic Altered Beast. There’s a big part of me that hopes it is, and if Vexing Hex are writing songs about retro videogames, they sound ready to embark on a Castlevania concept album.
Proffering grueling deathsludge as though it were going out of style — it isn’t — the Melbourne duo KVLL is comprised of bassist/vocalist/guitarist Mitchell Kerr (also Khan) and drummer Braydon Becher. It’s not without ambient stretches, as the centerpiece “Sacrifice” shows, but the primary impression KVLL‘s debut album, Death//Sacrifice makes is in the extremity of crash and heavy landing of “The Death of All That is Crushing” and “Slow Death,” such that by the time “Sacrifice” ‘mellows out,’ as it were, the listener is punchdrunk from what’s taken place on the prior two and a half songs. There’s little doubt that’s precisely KVLL‘s intention here, as the cavernous screams, mega-lurch and tense undercurrent are more than ably wielded. If “Sacrifice” is the moment at which Death//Sacrifice swaps out one theme for another, the subsequent “Blood to the Altar” and nine-minute closer “Beneath the Throne” hammer the point home, the latter with an abrasive noise-caked finale worthy of standard-bearers Primitive Man.
Not that the initial droning wash of “Deep is the Air” or the off-blasted “Zeta Potential” and warp-drive freneticism in “Cato” don’t have their appeal — oh, they do — but when it comes to UK lords-o’-space Mugstar‘s latest holodeck-worthy full-length, GRAFT, it’s the mellow drift-jazz of the 12-minute “Ghost of a Ghost” that feels most like matter dematerialization to me. Side B’s “Low, Slow Horizon” answers back later on ahead of the motorik linear build in the finale “Star Cage,” but the 12-minute vibe-fest that is “Ghost of a Ghost” gives GRAFT a vastness to match its thrust, which becomes essential to the space-borne feel. It’s 41 minutes, still ripe for an LP, but the kind of album that has a genuine affect on mood and mindset, breaking down on a molecular level both and remolding them into something hopefully more evolved on some level through cosmic meditation. Fast or slow, up or down, in or out, it doesn’t ultimately matter. Nothing does. But there’s a moment in GRAFT where the one-skin-on-another thing becomes apparent and all the masks drop away. What’s left after that?
Hooks abound in power-stoner fashion throughout Indiana four-piece Wolftooth‘s second album, Valhalla, which roughs up NWOBHM clarity in early-Ozzy fashion without going overboard to one side or the other, riffs winding and rhythms charging in a way not entirely unlike some of Freedom Hawk‘s more recent fare, but with a melodic reach of its own and a dynamism of purpose that comes through in the songwriting. Grand Magus‘ metallic traditionalism might be an influence on a song like “Fear for Eternity,” but “Crying of the Wolfs” has a more rocking swagger, and likewise post-intro opener “Possession.” With tightly constructed songs in the four-to-five-minute range, Valhalla never feels stretched out more than it wants to, but “Molon Labe” pushes the vocals deeper into the mix for a bigger, more atmospheric sound, and subtle shifts like that become effective in distinguishing the songs and making them all the more memorable. Recently signed to Napalm after working with Ripple, Ice Fall, Cursed Tongue and Blackseed, they seem to be poised to pay off the potential here and in their 2018 self-titled debut (review here). So be it.
Parisian riff-blaster trio Starmonger have been piecemealing tracks out for the last five years as a series of EPs titled Revelation, and the full-length debut, Revelations, brings these nine songs together for a 49-minute long-player that even in re-recorded versions of the earliest cuts like “Tell Me” and “Wanderer” show how far the band has come. It’s telling that those two close the record out while “Rise of the Fishlords” and “Léthé” from 2019’s Revelation IV open sides A and B, respectively, but older or newer, the band end up with a swath of stylistic ground covered from the more straightforward and uptempo kick of the elder tracks to the more progressive take of the newer, with plenty of ground in between. Uniting the various sides are strong performances and strong choruses, the latter of which would seem to be the thread that draws everything together. Whether or not it takes Starmonger half a decade to put out their next LP, one can hardly call their time misspent while listening to Revelations.
Posted in Reviews on December 22nd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
I just decided how long this Quarterly Review is actually going to be. It’s seven days, then I’ll do my year-end list and the poll results on New Year’s Eve and Day, respectively. That’s the plan. Though honestly, I might pick up after that weekend and continue QR-style for that next week. There’s a lot more to cover, I think. The amount of releases this year has been pretty insane and completely overwhelming. I’ve tried to keep up as best I can and clearly have failed in that regard or I probably wouldn’t be so swamped now. So it goes. One way or the other, I don’t think a lot of emails are getting answered for the next two weeks, though I’ll try to keep up with that too.
But anyhow, that’s what’s up. Here’s Day II (because this is the QR where I do Roman numerals for absolutely no reason).
Quarterly Review #11-20:
16, Dream Squasher
The fourth long-player since 16‘s studio return with 2009’s Bridges to Burn, the 10-track Dream Squasher begins with tales of love for kid and dog, respectively. The latter might be the sweetest lyrics I’ve ever read for something that’s still bludgeoning sludge — said dog also gets a mention amid the ultra-lumbering chug and samples of “Acid Tongue” — and it’s worth mentioning that as the Cali intensity institution nears 30 years since their start in 1991, they’re branching out in theme and craft alike, as the melody of the organ-laced “Sadlands” shows. There’s even some harmonica in “Agora (Killed by a Mountain Lion),” though it’s soon enough swallowed by pummel and the violent punk of “Ride the Waves” follows. “Summer of ’96” plays off Bryan Adams for another bit of familial love, while closing duo “Screw Unto Others” and “Kissing the Choir Boy” indict capitalist and religious figureheads in succession amid weighted plod and seething anger, the band oddly in their element in this meld of ups, downs and slaughter.
Kalamazoo four-piece BoneHawk make an awaited follow-up to their 2014 debut, Albino Rhino (discussed here), in the form of Iron Mountain, thereby reminding listeners why it’s been awaited in the first place. Solid, dual-guitar, newer-school post-The Sword heavy rock. Second cut “Summit Fever” reminds a bit of Valley of the Sun and Freedom Hawk, but neither is a bad echelon of acts to stand among, and the open melodies of the subsequent title-track and the later “Fire Lake” do much to distinguish BoneHawk along the way. The winding lead lines of centerpiece “Wildfire” offer due drama in their apex, and “Thunder Child” and “Future Mind” are both catchy enough to keep momentum rolling into the eight-minute closer “Lake of the Clouds,” which caps with due breadth and, yes, is the second song on the record about a lake. That’s how they do in Michigan and that’s just fine.
DÖ follow the Valborg example of lumbering barking extremity into a cosmic abyss on their Black Hole Mass three-songer, emitting charred roll like it’s interstellar background radiation and still managing to give an underlying sense of structure to proceedings vast and encompassing. “Gravity Sacrifice” and “Plasma “Psalm” are right on in their teeth-grinding shove, but it’s the 10-minute finale “Radiation Blessing” that steals my heart with its trippy break in the middle, sample, drifting guitar and all, as the Finnish trio build gradually back up to a massive march all the more effective for the atmosphere they’ve constructed around it. Construction, as it happens, is the underlying strength of Black Hole Mass, since it’s the firm sense of structure beneath their songs that allows them to so ably engage their dark matter metal over the course of these 22 minutes, but it’s done so smoothly one hardly thinks about it while listening. Instead, the best thing to do is go along for the ride, brief as it is, or at least bow head in appreciation to the ceremony as it trods across rigid stylistic dogma.
Howling Giant & Sergeant Thunderhoof, Turned to Stone Chapter 2: Masamune & Muramasa
Let this be a lesson to, well, everyone. This is how you do a conceptual split. Two bands getting together around a central idea — in this case, Tennessee’s Howling Giant and UK’s Sergeant Thunderhoof — both composing single tracks long enough to consume a vinyl side and expanding their reach not only to work with each other but further their own progressive sonic ideologies. Ripple Music‘s Turned to Stone split series is going to have a tough one to top in Masamune & Muramasa, as Howling Giant utterly shine in “Masamune” and the rougher-hewn tonality of Sergeant Thunderhoof‘s “Maramasa” makes an exceptional complement. Running about 41 minutes, the release is a journey through dynamic, with each act pushing their songwriting beyond prior limits in order to meet the occasion head-on and in grand fashion. They do, and the split easily stands among the best of 2020’s short releases as a result. If you want to hear where heavy rock is going, look no further.
Punkish shouts over dense noise rock tones, New York trio Chimney Creeps make their full-length debut with Nosedive, which they’ve self-released on vinyl. The album runs through seven tracks, and once it gets through the straight-ahead heavy punk of “March of the Creeps” and “Head in the Sand” at the outset, the palette begins to broaden in the fuzzy and gruff “Unholy Cow,” with the deceptively catchy “Splinter” following. “Creeper” and “Satisfied” before it are longer and accordingly more atmospheric, with a truck-backing-up sample at the start of “Creeper” that would seem to remind listeners just where the band’s sound has put them: out back, around the loading dock. Fair enough as “Diving Line” wraps in accordingly workmanlike fashion, the vocals cutting through clearly as they have all the while, prominent in the mix in a way that asks for balance. “Bright” I believe is the word an engineer might use, but the vocals stand out, is the bottom line, and thereby assure that the aggressive stance of the band comes across as more than a put-on.
Kingnomad‘s third album, Sagan Om Rymden certainly wants nothing for scope or ambition, setting its progressive tone with still-hooky opener “Omniverse,” before unfurling the more patient chug in “Small Beginnings” and taking on such weighted (anti-)matter as “Multiverse” and “The Creation Hymn” and “The Unanswered Question” later on. Along the way, the Swedish troupe nod at Ghost-style melodicism, Graveyard-ish heavy blues boogie — in “The Omega Experiment,” no less — progressive, psychedelic and heavy rocks and no less than the cosmos itself, as the Carl Sagan reference in the record’s title seems to inform the space-based mythology expressed and solidified within the songs. Even the acoustic-led interlude-plus “The Fermi Paradox” finds room to harmonize vocals and prove a massive step forward for the band. 2018’s The Great Nothing (review here) and 2017’s debut, Mapping the Inner Void (review here), were each more accomplished than the last, but Sagan Om Rymden is just a different level. It puts Kingnomad in a different class of band.
Shores of Null, Beyond the Shores (On Death and Dying)
By the time Shores of Null are nine minutes into the single 38-minute track that makes up their third album, Beyond the Shores (On Death and Dying), they would seem to have unveiled at least four of the five vocalists who appear throughout the proceedings, with the band’s own Davide Straccione joined by Swallow the Sun‘s Mikko Kotamäki as well as Thomas A.G. Jensen (Saturnus), Martina Lesley Guidi (of Rome’s Traffic Club) and Elisabetta Marchetti (INNO). There are guests on violin, piano and double-bass as well, so the very least one might say is that Shores of Null aren’t kidding around when they’re talking about this record in a sense of being ‘beyond’ themselves. The journey isn’t hindered so much as bolstered by the ambition, however, and the core five-piece maintain a steady presence throughout, serving collectively as the uniting factor as “Beyond the Shores (On Death and Dying)” moves through its portrayal of the stages of grief in according movements of songcraft, gorgeously-arranged and richly composed as they are as they head toward the final storm. In what’s been an exceptional year for death-doom, Shores of Null still stand out for the work they’ve done.
Tectonic sludge has become a mainstay in Polish heavy, and The Device, about whom precious little is known other than they’re very, very, very heavy when they want to be, add welcome atmospherics to the lumbering weedian procession. “Rise of the Device” begins the 47-minute Tribute Album in crushing form, but “Ritual” and the first minute or so of “BongOver” space out with droney minimalism, before the latter track — the centerpiece of the five-songer and only cut under six minutes long at 2:42 — explodes in consuming lurch. “Indica” plays out this structure again over a longer stretch, capping with birdsong and whispers and noise after quiet guitar and hypnotic, weighted riffing have played back and forth, but it’s in the 23-minute closer “Exhale” that the band finds their purpose, a live-sounding final jam picking up after a long droning stretch to finish the record with a groove that, indeed, feels like a release in the playing and the hearing. Someone’s speaking at the end but the words are obscured by echo, and to be sure, The Device have gotten their point across by then anyhow. The stark divisions between loud and quiet on Tribute Album are interesting, as well as what the band might do to cover the in-between going forward.
Spanish progressive heavy psychedelic semi-instrumentalists Domo follow late-2019’s Domonautas Vol. 1 (review here) with a four-song second installment, and Domonautas Vol. 2 answers its predecessor back with the jazz-into-doom of “Avasaxa” (7:43) and the meditation in “Dolmen” (13:50) on side A, and the quick intro-to-the-intro “El Altar” (2:06) and the 15-minute “Vientohalcón” on side B, each piece working with its own sense of motion and its own feeling of progression from one movement to the next, never rushed, never overly patient, but smooth and organic in execution even in its most active or heaviest stretches. The two most extended pieces offer particular joys, but neither should one discount the quirky rhythm at the outset of “Avasaxa” or the dramatic turn it makes just before five minutes in from meandering guitar noodling to plodding riffery, if only because it sounds like Domo are having so much fun catching the listener off guard. Exactly as they should be.
Doom be thy name. Or, I guess Early Moods be thy name, but doom definitely be thy game. The Los Angeles four-piece make their debut with the 26-minute Spellbound, and I suppose it’s an EP, but the raw Pentagram worship on display in the opening title-track and the Sabbath-ism that ensues flows easy and comes through with enough sincerity of purpose that if the band wanted to call it a full-length, one could hardly argue. Guitar heads will note the unbridled scorch of the solos throughout — centerpiece “Isolated” moves from one into a slow-Slayer riff that’s somehow also Candlemass, which is a feat in itself — while “Desire” rumbles with low-end distortion that calls to mind Entombed even as the vocals over top are almost pure Witchcraft. They save the most engaging melody for the finale “Living Hell,” but even that’s plenty grim and suited to its accompanying dirt-caked feel. Rough in production, but not lacking clarity, Spellbound entices and hints at things to come, but has a barebones appeal all its own as well.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 22nd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Icelandic cosmic crushers Morpholith recently issued their debut full-length, Null Dimensions, through Ozium Records and Sludgelord Records. Guess what? The “We Hate You” cover isn’t on it. It happens. The album is made up of two gargantuan psych-doom rituals, with “Orb” (20:20) and “Monocarp” (13:31) unfolding like hidden messages waiting for those whose ears are tuned to the right frequency to hear them. A dogwhistle calling the doomed to prayer before some massive idol or maybe one of those shiny monoliths that keeps showing up hither and yon. I don’t know if there have been any in Iceland yet, but only a place with black volcanic sand could possibly hope to produce minor-key meditations like those swirling in the fog of “Orb,” which transcends circa 13:20 into a sludge that’s harsher and meaner and betrays Morpholith‘s connections to more extreme metallurgies, though I’m reasonably certain Iceland’s heavy underground is the same 20 or so dudes and they’re just all in five different bands, most of them awesome.
Either way, “Orb” and “Monocarp,” the latter of which picks up directly from the first track and slams its point home with no less impact for the spaciousness that accompanies, shifting eventually into a kind of pummeling post-sludge odd-time chaos before becoming engulfed in its own finish, are a rare fix to the problem ‘nothing sounds heavy enough.’ As for their take on “We Hate You,” it’s as suitable an homage to 2020 as anything I could come up with unless there were actually some way to set the year’s lungs on fire, and that it coincides with Dopethrone‘s 20th anniversary is a fitting touch as well. You get a sense of the tonal density Morpholith have on offer throughout Null Dimensions in “We Hate You” as well, though vocalist Snæbjörn Þór Árnasson adjusts his delivery to play more directly off of Jus Oborn, and of course it’s a shorter sampling of their wares than either of the two cuts on the album-proper, but if you’re looking for a way to proceed here, I’ve got you covered. Do both.
The album stream is down near the bottom of this post, the video is premiering below, and any suggestion that you have to pick one or the other to dig into is pure fiction. Watch the video and then dive into the record. Dive into the record and then check out the video. It doesn’t matter. The point is Morpholith kick ass on both. I can’t say it any plainer than that.
And if I can add my own spin on it, I fucking hate the holidays, so misanthropic bludgeoning sludge suits me just fine right now. If that’s where you land too, so be it.
Enjoy the clip (and album):
Morpholith, “We Hate You” official video premiere
The video we have made is our tribute to Electric Wizard’s Dopethrone, which was released 20 years ago now and the year of 2020. The song is one we know well and we planned to play it live at some point this year, but that of course did not work out. So to celebrate one of the greatest doom metal records of all time and this exceptionally gloomy year, we decided to record the song and make a video for it instead. Our tribute to Electric Wizard and their masterpiece, Dopethrone on the 20th anniversary of the album.
Dedicated, with all our hate, to the year of 2020.
Our new EP Null Dimensions is out on Ozium and Sludgelord Records!
We got help from two legends of our black metal scene to help us with making the track. D.G from Misþyrming (also Drottinn, Naðra and Núll to name a few) recorded, mixed and mastered the audio for us and Andri Björn Birgisson from Auðn shot, directed and edited the video.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 21st, 2020 by JJ Koczan
I don’t know how much cash a name-your-price comp is bringing in ultimately, but the not-cynical part of me wants to think supporting bands is still something humans are interested in doing, so here’s another way to do that. And if you name your price and your price is nothing, that’s not me trying to guilt you. Over 800,000 people filed for first-time unemployment insurance last month in the US. England has super-covid. Shit is tough everywhere and for everyone. There’s a reason it’s name-your-price and not $35.
As for critical observation, here’s one: John Gist does good work, Ripple Music does good work and these bands do good work. Stay tuned for more heavy hitting insights on the next episode. Make sure you like and subscribe.
All of the following comes from Bandcamp:
The Revolution Lives ***A Benefit for the Bands!***
In this day of the coronavirus-enforced shutdown of live shows, Ripple and Vegas Rock Revolution wanted to join forces to rejoice about all the great live music we’ve experienced. Based in Vegas, John Gist, running VRR has created a heavy underground scene where none existed! From his infamous Planet Desert Rock weekends to his numerous shows at Danny Koker’s Count’s Vamp’d, the Beauty Bar, and Bunkhouse Saloon among others, VRR has brought tons of Ripple bands to Vegas to rock the hell outta the desert.
So, now let’s celebrate. Think of this compilation as a virtual show… holding space until the real ones can resume.
Dig into this free comp, made just for you, summarizing all the Ripple family that has journeyed to the desert to play for VRR. Gist himself chose this tracklist and the incomparable Kyrre Bjurling provided the stellar art.
Although the album is “pay what you want” any proceeds raised for the purchase of this compilation will go to help out all the bands that have missed out on being able to perform live shows.
Dig in, and let’s unite when this is over to rock the hell out once again!
Tracklisting: 1. Brutal Winds – Freedom Hawk 04:54 2. Oklahoma Black Magic – The Watchers 04:29 3. Nothing to Lose – Void Vator 03:43 4. Chopper Wired – War Cloud 03:34 5. City Nights – Mothership 05:22 6. Lonely One Kenobi – Mos Generator 05:06 7. Into the Shredder – Ape Machine 03:56 8. Ain’t Trying to Go Down Slow – Shotgun Sawyer 03:16 9. Sun and Mist – Salem’s Bend 05:16 10. Hour Glass – High Priestess 06:46 11. Isolation – Wino 04:12 12. Three Minutes to Midnight – Wo Fat 06:20 13. Fathoms – Horseburner 08:12 14. Sunshine of Your Love – Blackwulf 03:38 15. The Grace of Time – Mr Bison 07:22 16. Light of Day – The Hazytones 03:56 17. Hypnotized – Red Desert 04:17 18. Fog of Whores – Cortez 04:55 19. Cactus Highways – Red Mesa 03:09 20. Better Off Alone – Fuzz Evil 04:42 21. Low Tide – Chiefs 03:48
Posted in Reviews on December 21st, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Kind of a spur of the moment thing, this Quarterly Review. I’ve been adding releases all the while, of course, but my thought was to do this after my year-end list went up, and I realized, hey, if I’ve got like 70 records I haven’t reviewed yet, maybe there’s some of that stuff worth considering. So here we are. I’ve pushed back my best-of-2020 stuff and basically swapped it with the Quarterly Review. Does it matter to you? I seriously, seriously doubt it, but I believe in transparency and that’s what’s up. Thought I’d let you know. And yeah, this is going to go into next week, take us through the X-mas holiday this Friday, so whatever. You celebrate your way and I’ll celebrate mine. Let’s roll.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
Boris, No
As a general project, reviewing Boris is damn near pointless. One might as well review the moon: “uh, it’s big and out there most of the time?” The only reason to do it is either to exercise one’s own need to hyperbolize or help the band sell records. Well, Boris doesn’t need my push and I don’t need to tell them how great they are. No is 40 minutes of the widely and wildly lauded Japanese heavy rock(s) experimentalists trying to riff away existing in 2020, delving high speed into hardcore here and there and playing off that with grueling sludge, punk, garage-metal and the penultimate “Loveless,” which is kind of Boris being their own genre. Much respect to the band, and I suppose one might critique Boris for, what?, being so Boris-y?, but there really isn’t a ton that hasn’t been said about them because such a ton has. I’m not trying to disparage their work at all — No is just what you’d expect as regards defying expectation — but after 20-plus years, there’s only so many ways one wants to call a band genius.
Kind of a soft-opening for Edinburgh’s DVNE as an act on Metal Blade Records, unless of course one counts the two songs on the Omega Severer EP itself, which are post-metallic beasts of the sort that would and should make The Ocean blush. Progressive, heavy, and remarkably ‘next-wave’ feeling, DVNE‘s awaited follow-up to 2017’s Asheran may only be about 17 and a half minutes long, but it bodes remarkably well as the band master a torrent of intensity on the 10-minute opening title-cut and answer that with the immediately galloping “Of Blade and Carapace,” smashing battle-axe riffing and progressive shimmer against each other and finding it to be an alchemy of their own. Album? One suspects not until they can tour for it, but if Omega Severer is DVNE serving notice, consider the message received loud, clear, dynamic, crushing, spacious, and so on. Already veterans of Psycho Las Vegas, they sound like a band bent on capturing a broader audience in the metallic sphere.
There’s no questioning where Hydra‘s heart is at on their debut full-length, From Light to the Abyss. It belongs to the devil and it belongs to Black Sabbath. The Polish four-piece riff hard and straightforward throughout most of the five-track offering (released by Piranha Music), and samples set the kind of atmosphere that should be familiar enough to the converted — “No One Loves Like Satan” reminds of Uncle Acid in its initial channel-changing and swaggering riff alike — but doomly centerpiece “Creatures of the Woods” and the layered vocal melodies late in closer “Magical Mind” perhaps offer a glimpse at the direction the band could take from here. What matters though is where Hydra are at today, and that’s bringing riffs and nod to the converted among the masses, and From Light to the Abyss offers no pretense otherwise. It is doom rock for doom rockers, grooves to be grooved to. They’re not void of ambition by any means — their songwriting makes that clear — but their traditionalism is sleeve-worn, which if you’re going to have it, is right where it should be.
Dead Meadow guitarist/vocalist Jason Simon follows 2016’s Familiar Haunts (review here) with the genre-spanning A Venerable Wreck, finding folk roots in obscure beats and backwards this-and-that, country in fuzz, ramble in space, and no shortage of experimentalism besides. A Venerable Wreck consists of 12 songs and though there are times where it can feel disjointed, that becomes part of the ride. It’s not all supposed to make sense. Yet what happens by the time you get around to “No Entrance No Exit” is that Simon (and a host of cohorts) has set his own context broad enough so that the drone reach of “Hollow Lands” and sleek, organ-laced indie of closer “Without Reason or Right” can coexist without any real interruption of flow between them. The question with A Venerable Wreck isn’t so much whether the substance is there, it’s whether the listener is open to it. Welcome to psychedelic America. Please inject this snake venom and turn in your keys when you leave.
You won’t hear me take away from the opening psych-scorch hook of “Mindbreaker” or the fuzzed-on, boogie-down, -up, and -sideways of “Black Annis” which follows, but there’s something extra fun about hearing Frog Island’s Cherry Choke jam out a 13-minute, drum-solo-inclusive version of “6ix and 7even” that makes Raising Salzburg Rockhouse even more of a reminder of how underrated both they are as a band and Mat Bethancourt is as a player. Look no further than “Domino” if you want absolute proof. The whole band rips it up at the Austrian gig, which was recorded in 2015 as they supported their third and still-most-recent full-length, Raising the Waters (review here), but Bethancourt puts on a Hendrixian clinic in the nine-minute cut from 2011’s A Night in the Arms of Venus (review here), which is actually less of a clinic than it is pure distorted swagger followed by a mellow “cheers, thanks” before diving into “Used to Call You Friend.” A 38-minute set would be perfect for an vinyl release, and anytime Cherry Choke want to get around to putting together a fourth studio album, well, that’ll be just fine too.
It’s a special breed of aggro that emerges as a result of living in the most densely populated state in the union, and New Jersey’s Pariiah have it to spare. Bringing together sludge tonality with elder-style New York hardcore lumbering riffs on their Trip Machine Laboratories tape, Swallowed by Fog, they exude a thickened brand of pissed off that’s outright going to be too confrontation for many who take it on. But if you want a middle finger to the face, this is what it sounds like, and the six songs (compiled into four on the digital version of the release) come and go entirely without pretense and leave little behind except bruises and the promise of more to come. They’re a new band, started in this most wretched of years, but there’s no learning curve whatsoever among the members of Devoid of Faith, The Nolan Gate, Kill Your Idols, Changeörder and others. I’d go to Maplewood to see these cats. I’m just saying. Maybe even Elizabeth.
So you’ve got both members of Holly Hunt in a four-piece sludging out with spacey synth and the band is named after a Star Trek character? Not to get too personal, but that’s going to pique my interest one way or the other. Saavik — and they clearly prefer the Kirstie Alley version, rather than Robin Curtis, going by drummer Beatriz Monteavaro‘s artwork — are damn near playing space rock by the end of “He’s Dead Jim,” the opener of their self-titled debut EP, but even that’s affected by a significant tonal weight in Didi Aragon‘s bass and the guitar of Gavin Perry, however much Ryan Rivas‘ synth and effects-laced vocals might seem to float overhead, but “Meld” rolls along at a steadier nod, and “Horizon” puts the synth more in the lead without becoming any less heavy for doing so. Likewise, “Red Sun” calls to mind Godflesh in its proto-machine metal stomp, but there’s more concern in Saavik‘s sound with expanse than just pure crush, and that shows up in fascinating ways in these songs.
There’s been a dark vibe all along nestled into Mountain Tamer‘s sound, and that’s certainly the case on Psychosis Ritual, with which the Los Angeles-based trio make their debut on Heavy Psych Sounds. It’s their third full-length overall behind 2018’s Godfortune // Dark Matters (review here) and 2016’s self-titled debut (review here), and it finds their untamed-feeling psychedelia rife with that same threat of violence, not necessarily thematically as much as sonically, like the songs themselves are the weapon about to be turned on the listener. Maybe the buzz of “Warlock” or the fuckall echo of the prior-issued single “Death in the Woods” (posted here) aren’t out there trying to be “Hammer Smashed Face” or anything, but neither is this the hey-bruh-good-times heavy jams for which Southern California is known these days. Consider the severity of “Turoc Maximus Antonis” or the finally-released screams in closer “Black Noise,” which bookends Psychosis Ritual with the title-track and seems at last to be the point where whatever grim vibe these guys are riding finally consumes them. Mountain Tamer continue to be unexpected and righteous in kind.
Hypnotic Estonian psychedelic krautrock instrumentals not your thing? Well that sounds like a personal problem Centre El Muusa are ready to solve. The evolved-from-duo four-piece get spaced out amid the semi-motorik repetitions of their self-titled debut (on Sulatron), and that seems to suit them quite well, thanksabunch. Drone trips and essential swirl brim with solar-powered pulsations and you can set your deflectors on maximum and route all the secondaries to reinforce if you want, there’s still a decent chance 9:53 opener an longest track “Turkeyfish” (immediate points, double for the appropriately absurd title) is going to sweep you off what you used to call your feet when that organ line hits at about six minutes in. That’s to say nothing of the cosmic collision later in “Burning Lawa” or the just-waiting-for-a-Carl-Sagan-voiceover “Mia” that follows. Even the 3:46 “Ain’t Got Enough Mojo” lives long enough to prove itself wrong. Interstellar tape transmissions fostered by obvious weirdos in the great out-there in “Szolnok,” named for a city in Hungary that, among other things, hosts the goulash festival. Right fucking on.
The first Population II album, a 2017 self-titled, was comprised of two tracks, each long enough to consume a 12″ side. Somehow it’s fitting with the Montreal-based singing-drummer trio’s aesthetic that their second long-player, À la Ô Terre, would take a completely different tack, employing shorter freakouts like “L’Offrande” and “La Nuit” and the garage-rocking “La Danse” and what-if-Jefferson–Airplane-but-on-Canadian-mushrooms “À la Porte de Demain” and still-more-drifting finisher “Je Laisse le Soleil Briller” amid the more stretched out “Attaction,” the space-buzzer “Ce n’est Réve” while cutting a middle ground in the greaked-out (I was gonna type “freaked out” and hit a typo and I’m keeping it) “Il eut un Silence dans le Ciel,” which also betrays the jazzy underpinnings that somehow make all of À la Ô Terre come across as progressive instead of haphazard. From the start to the close, you don’t know what’s coming next, and just because that’s by design doesn’t make it less effective. If anything, it makes Population II all the more impressive.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 18th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Proof positive that Cortez didn’t just end up a kickass heavy rock band, but in fact they started that way. Of course, the Boston five-piece were a much different band 13 years ago when they made their debut with the Thunder in a Forgotten Town EP in 2007. I remember (vaguely) the release piqued my interest because they were an American band releasing through a European label — Belgium’s Buzzville Records — which didn’t happen nearly as often in those days, and once I got a copy, I would’ve had to work hard not to dig it. Six songs, righteous hooks, classic vibe brought to modern production — the band worked with Marc Schleicher (then of Quintaine Americana, also Antler, later of Infernal Overdrive) at New Alliance Audio — and I never quite understood how they never got signed to Small Stone Records, as did Boston forerunners-of-riff Roadsaw, but they wound up just fine regardless.
Though the core of their sound and approach was intact, Cortez were a much different band in 2007 than they are now. Only two of the five players on Thunder in a Forgotten Town are still with the group in guitarist Scott O’Dowd and bassist/backing vocalist Jay Furlo. The nascent version of the band was rounded out by guitarist Tony D’Agostino, drummer Jeremy Hemond (who was also in Roadsaw) and vocalist Curtis Caswell, and though one can recognize roots in C.O.C.-style riffing in a song like “Stone the Bastards” — with its call-and-response gang shouts bringing in members of The Humanoids, We’re All Gonna Die and Cocked ‘n’ Loaded — the momentum built up over the course of that song and the outing as a whole belongs to Cortez even more in hindsight now than it did when they it out, by which I mean it’s become a crucial aspect of their sound in general, capturing that feeling of unhurried shove. Carefully composed songs that still push you through them at what feels like a hey-man-come-on-I’m-not-hurting-anybody escorted-out pace.
All business? Not quite, but close. Mostly business. Opener “The High Life” — its fuzzy launch riff telling you much of what you need to know, especially when the solo kicks in to lead into the verse — sets the proceedings off with no time wasted. Cortez are through the first verse and headed toward the chorus by the time the first minute is up, and then another quick lead and they’re back to the verse to start the cycle again in the next minute. They break for a longer solo but keep the central rhythm playing out underneath, then back to the verse and chorus, more soloing over a moderate tempo kick, then a couple ending lines and it’s done in a little over four minutes. Plain old heavy rock and roll. Not innovative in terms of structure, but it lets you know right off the bat that Cortez know what they’re doing, and Thunder in a Forgotten Town does nothing to dissuade one from that opinion from that point on. Kicking ass, chewing bubblegum, and so on.
The first five songs are within about a minute of each other length-wise, but still arranged from shortest to longest ahead of the nine-minute closer “Floodwater Rising.” “What Have You Done?” picks up where the opener left off with a strong hook and changes the break structure a bit with vocals getting a moment in a second-half quiet section, but the mood is well similar enough to be consistent. Melody fleshes out further in “The Ocean,” and reveals itself to be the essential component of Cortez‘s work that it’s become in the years since, even as the riffs pattern themselves in a steady roll, they become the backdrop of a layered-vocal arrangement that is sneakily effective in putting itself in the listener’s head. C.O.C. might be a reference point there as well as in “Stone the Bastards” still to come, but the modus is hardly limited to them, and as Thunder in a Forgotten Town demonstrates across its span, the band’s intention was never so much to reinvent the wheel as to make it spin in their own direction.
They do precisely that through “Lost Control” and “Stone the Bastards,” continuing to broaden the sphere of what they’ve set out while staying rooted in songwriting and mid-tempo push. It’s chug in “Lost Control” and group participation in “Stone the Bastards” as the band use their first outing to essentially work as a demo in showing off what they’re about, but perhaps “Floodwater Rising” — still the longest song despite ending after six of its total nine minutes, giving over the rest to residual noise — is the most indicative of the band Cortez would become, with a comfort switching paces and an underlying aggression of purpose that has only come more forward over time.
Thunder in a Forgotten Town, at 34 minutes, is listed as an EP, and it would be five years and a few lineup changes before their 2012 self-titled debut (review here) surfaced on Bilocation Records — to be followed by 2012’s The Depths Below (review here), 2014’s split with Borracho, 2018’s split with Wasted Theory (review here) and this Fall’s Sell the Future (review here) — but I’ll say it’s actually more of a debut album in its flow and construction. One could make the argument I suppose that it’s a demo as well, and I kind of alluded to that above, but there’s a level of craft that needs to be taken into account, and as it has all throughout Cortez‘s tenure, that makes all the difference. They are a different band now than they were then, as I said, but there’s no question that what they’ve been able to build across their now-three LPs has been built on the foundation Thunder in a Forgotten Town laid out, despite the shifts in personnel around Furlo and O’Dowd.
Album or EP, it seems ripe enough for a reissue at this point, even though it’s obviously readily available streaming-wise, as seen above. They still have CDs too, but I don’t know if Thunder in a Forgotten Town has ever been released on vinyl, and certainly it’s easy enough to imagine in red and black swirl wax to suit the cover art. Say, 300 copies? Alright, press it. That’s how it works, right?
Last month, Stoned Jesus played. On a stage. With people there. Some people, anyway. The show, held in their hometown of Kyiv, Ukraine, was of course set up for social distancing, and in addition to that new territory, it also marked the first time the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Igor Sidorenko, Serhij Sljussar and drummer Dmytro Zinchenko performed acoustically. It was reportedly taped for posterity and videos will likely surface at some point later or sooner. As it is, the photos the band has posted on social media make it look all the more like the special night it must’ve been.
Count Stoned Jesus among the multitudes with ‘best laid plans’ for 2020. Among other tours they had in the works for Europe, South America, etc., they were to have made their US debut at the second Desertfest New York and tour around that — an initial incursion to American soil that would have only furthered their status as one of Europe’s leading purveyors of heavy rock. Instead, a live stream of a show at Green Theatre from 2019, pro-shot, pro-audio, pro-edit, was aired for fans missing seeing them on stage — or those like myself, who’ve yet to be so fortunate — and unlike other come-and-gone livestreams, the band and Napalm Records have been kind enough to keep it available for the public. I’ve included it here, if only because it’s worth watching.
It’s hard to do interviews these days and not talk about what could’ve been in an alternate reality 2020, but Sidorenko is a personable cat. In addition to the November show and the livestream, he chatted about songwriting, the deeply personal relationship he has to the songs on the band’s most recent LP, 2018’s Pilgrims (review here), the enduring legacy of 2012’s Seven Thunders Roar (review here), the reissue of their debut album, 2010’s First Communion (complete with product placement!), his love of Elephant Tree‘s latest record and much more. Of special note is the section where he discusses the direction of the next Stoned Jesus full-length, for which writing is in progress, and the idea of songwriting as an end unto itself in a multimedia-driven age. Also his foray into stand-up, at which one imagines he’s quite good.
It was a fun conversation. I hope you enjoy it. Thanks for reading and watching:
Stoned Jesus Interview with Igor Sidorenko, Dec. 11, 2020
Stoned Jesus‘ Pilgrims and the reissue of First Communion are out now and you can still watch the Green Theatre live show below.
