It’s a pretty rare album that sounds better a decade after the fact. Don’t get me wrong, I liked the self-titled debut (review here) from Boston duo Olde Growth when I first heard it, and don’t get me wrong, it’s pretty raw either way, but even if you factor in that the two-piece were probably three or four years ahead of their time in sound and configuration, that’s still an admirable stretch for their first and, sad to say, only LP to have not only held up, but flourished in its earthy, sludgy way.

Initially self-released in 2010, the seven-song/46-minute offering was picked up in 2011 by MeteorCity for a CD release. Comprised of bassist/vocalist Stephen LoVerme (who also handled the artwork) and drummer Ryan Berry, they were arguably the last new-band release from the pivotal imprint, which had changed hands a year prior after being purchased by Dan “El Danno” Beland and Melanie “Hellmistress” Streko and tied in with the fate of the then-active stonerrock.com outlet and forum. Then married, the two had gone on a tear of adding label roster additions in in 2009-2010, and that saw releases from Freedom Hawk, New Keepers of the Water Towers, Snail, Flood, Ararat, Egypt, Whitebuzz, SardoniS, Valkyrie — some you still hear about today, some you don’t — and Olde Growth were at the tail end of that bunch. Even the cardboard digipak, which the band still has available, was forward thinking, printed on recycled paper with soy ink used. The stamp-looking artwork and hand-scribbled fonts gave it a DIY look that suited the organic nature of the band’s sound and, well, moniker.

LoVerme and Berry were young at the time, and recorded in 2009 with guitarist AJ Peters of the band that was then called Riff Cannon and would soon become Summoner — a bit of irony there for a band without a guitarist making their album with one at the helm. Perhaps what’s most continually resonant about Olde Growth, however, is the sense of space in the tracks. As a unit, Olde Growth were maximally flexible, by which I mean they were able to make a song like the lead cut “The Grand Illusion” charge ahead with a gallop that sounded haphazard without actually being so, pulling influence maybe from what High on Fire had done circa Blessed Black Wings but owning each progression as their own, much aided in that regard by LoVerme‘s malleable vocal approach, sludgy, shouted verse coursing into a more melodic chorus. Not by any means anything new for heavy music — such duality drove a surge of metalcore based in New England at the turn of the century — but few and far between were those who could pull it off 10-12 years later without sounding hackneyed, fewer still were those doing so in a heavy/stoner context, and I can’t think of another outfit who did it in a duo configuration. If I’m wrong about that, it doesn’t matter anyway. The point of rarity stands.

And as Olde Growth shoves through “The Grand Illusion,” it meets with the breadth and heft of “Life in the Present.” The tinny sound of Berry‘s snare, the wash of cymbals, the low-end effects as the song nears its melodic stretch in the midsection, it’s all a shift in structure that builds on the opener, so that as they turn it around into punker thrash it’s not a huge surprise, but ties together smoothly — or as smoothly as they want it to, anyhow — with a return to the lumbering (get it?) march at the end likewise setting up  the grimmer launch of the three-part “Cry of the Nazgul/The Second Darkness/To the Black Gate,” a Lord of the Rings-based lyric that saves Aragorn’s triumph for a layered-vocal in its third part, surprisingly soulful given the trudge through Middle Earth mud in most of the first five minutes. Some growls right at the end bring it together, and offer a resolution that, unlike the book or movies, didn’t require a slew of appendices or two hours of comedown epilogue.

“Sequoia,” however, might be called a comedown in itself. It is the slowest of pieces on Olde Growth at its outset, but nestles subtly into movement as it unveils a hook worthy of “The Grand Illusion,” and from there continues to add speed before cutting back again. The riff, low, slow, is rootsy stoner sludge idolatry, but well done with Berry‘s hi-hat keeping the nod punctuated as they cycle through the next verse, ahead of the ending slowdown and shouts, which end with amp hum and let the effects of minute-long interlude “Red Dwarf” arrive naturally and transition accordingly into the also-instrumental “Everything Dies,” which though it’s not as long or broad as the three-parter or the 10-minute finale “Awake” that follows is no less epic in its build, perhaps more so for the relative efficiency with which it’s brought to bear.

The closer opens righteously mellow following the intensity at the end of “Everything Dies,” and explodes with a snare hit for warning shortly before it’s four minutes deep. Yeah, there’s a ripper part in the middle and second half, and they plod to a finish with a lead line over top, but if you want to hear underscored just how much potential Olde Growth had, it’s in the methodical way they end the record. They could be brash, they could punk out, play fast, play slow, etc., but hearing “Awake” start out with such barely-there hypnotic minimalism while keeping that surge in its pocket is emblematic of what the two-piece might have accomplished going forward. Seems hard now to overstate the potential, in aesthetic, songwriting or performance.

So it goes. Olde Growth released the self-titled in 2012 on vinyl through the also-ahead-of-its-time Hydro-Phonic Records (that version had “Red Dwarf” and “Everything Dies” combined, which is fair), and would go on to play shows, tour a bit, and offer the Owl EP (review here) in 2012. Last I got to see them was in Boston in 2013, and they still made it worth the drive to the city. If you’ve never been to Boston, that is a significant compliment.

Also known for his video work with Treebeard Media and the Somerville, MA, venue ONCE Ballroom, LoVerme would reemerge circa 2014 as part of the more stylistically diverse SEA, and has recently been involved with the more extreme-minded Lunar Ark, who as it happened played a live show last week. How about that. What times we live in.

Nonetheless, this album could stand a reissue.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

I woke up this morning at 4:10AM. My program of training my body to get up earlier has resulted in the increase of productivity I sought. Not a magic bullet to get everything done in a day that I want to — it’s only an hour and 20 minutes different from my luxurious 5:30 days — but it helps. I’ll hope to have it to 4AM by Monday. I remember clearly now putting my head down at the kitchen table in Massachusetts and falling asleep at the keyboard.

Of course, the tradeoff is fatigue, decrease in patience with myself and others, a brutally long-feeling day, and things like not being able to find the new toothbrush I left right frickin’ there on the table for myself this morning when I got up. Coffee, as ever, provides the single set of footprints in the sand while carrying me.

I’d be further remiss if I didn’t again note the blow that was the death of Eric Wagner at the week’s outset. The Skull and Trouble have both since commented on his passing, but the level of shock through the heavy underground is a testament to the career and life he led. Why he didn’t get a vaccine before going on tour, I don’t know. Could’ve been politics, could’ve been additional health risks. It doesn’t matter now.

This morning I also found a message on Facebook from July from a kid I went to middle school with that one of our classmates apparently died in 2019 and I never knew. Seems like maybe he killed himself. We didn’t keep in touch or anything after going to different high schools, but he was a nice enough kid at that age. Troubled. Loved golf, which was odd in an eighth grader. But yeah. I’m not sure I’d be justified in grieving the loss since it happened two years ago and I hadn’t spoken to him in about two and a half decades, but it was a bookend to the week that I hadn’t expected. I didn’t really know Eric Wagner either, though we spoke a few times.

That brings to mind how Chris Peters from Fuzz Sagrado/Samsara Blues Experiment wrapped up that interview that went up yesterday. I don’t know that anybody will watch that in its 80-minute entirety (maybe I should learn video editing, but that just seems like something that would take away from time I’d otherwise want to spend writing), but in the last couple minutes, he encouraged anyone watching to speak to more people, to reach out, because it’s so amazing to interact with others. I admit that’s not the kind of advice I’m likely to take. I will rarely initiate conversation with someone I don’t already know. Introverted is a grown-up way of saying shy, but either way. The truth of the matter is that I have always believed that when someone meets me who might not’ve known before, they’ll either be put off by my physical appearance or something I say. It is better, then, to not engage.

Obviously I have never had many friends. Further, among the oh-let’s-say-a-few challenges of parenting is encouraging my son to be outgoing or teaching him how handle simple social interactions to when my own impulses and unconsciously-demonstrated behaviors are so contrary to that. It is not a thing I’m good at.

We’ll throw it on the list that hopefully I’m the only one keeping.

I need to turn in the playlist for the next Gimme Metal show. It’ll be all Eric Wagner. More on that next week, and stay tuned as well for premieres from Old Man Wizard, Embr, Lurcher, Wang Wen and an interview with Sons of Alpha Centauri, whose new LP is out today on Exile on Mainstream.

Today is The Pecan’s last day of summer daycamp. He had a good time. Next week he’s home with me, which is a thing that I’m sorry to say I’ve been dreading in terms of getting work done, but will probably be fine. It’s been 12 and a half years and I haven’t lost the thread yet, so seven business days with the kid won’t kill me, even with The Patient Mrs. back at her office for most of the week as her semester has also started. If I need to work before bed, I can. That would mean less tweeting about Star Trek, but we all have to make sacrifices sometimes.

Whatever your next week brings, I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Hydrate. Have fun. Watch your head. Hug someone who has consented to be hugged. Buy an Obelisk t-shirt. Life is short.

FRM.

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Tags: Boston, Massachusetts, MeteorCity, Olde Growth, Olde Growth Self-titled, self-titled

This entry was posted on Friday, August 27th, 2021 at 12:11 pm and is filed under Bootleg Theater. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.