This past summer, Canadian singer, guitarist, and songwriter Chad Ross released the solo album, Skull Creator (review here), through Ramble Records, Echodelick Recordings and NoiseAgonyMayhem, working under the all-caps moniker C.ROSS. He’s probably best known as the vocalist/guitarist of Toronto drift-psych heroes Quest for Fire, whose two full-lengths, 2009’s Quest for Fire and 2010’s Lights From Paradise (discussed here, review here), remain treasures to be sought, and the subsequent Comet Control, which has expanded the scope the prior outfit laid out, working in elements of space rock and other styles on 2014’s Comet Control (review here), 2016’s Center of the Maze (review here) and 2021’s Inside the Sun (review here), all of which, like Quest for Fire‘s albums, were issued through Tee Pee Records.

But his mostly-off-again-not-so-much-on-again incarnation, Nordic Nomadic, actually precedes or at least coincides even Quest for Fire, releasing this self-titled debut on CD in 2007 via Blue Fog Recordings. At that point, Ross was coming off his time in the more indie-minded The Deadly Snakes, so the unplugged-grunge vibe of Nordic Nomadic was something of a departure on the purposefully quiet, mostly-unplugged grunge of “Living Arrangements” and the presciently nodding proto-roll in album opener “The World’s Slowest Man,” on which Paul Vernon‘s drums are a spacious highlight behind Ross‘ own exploratory guitar and soft vocals. Volume swells on “A Child’s Eyes,” which feels a little hurried in comparison to the leadoff it directly follows, and hand-percussion on “Elk Horn Pyramid,” string sounds on “The Weather in Your Mind” and the standalone guy-and-guitarism of “Grey” assure that the 10-song/43-minute offering, touching on Americana in “Nice Young Man” and the pedal steel (credited to Dale Murray)-inclusive closer “Clouds That Spell My Name,” which is the longest inclusion at 6:25 and rises to an understated but engrossing jam before it’s done.

Through it all, flow remains central. The songs, recorded by Paul Aucoin at Hallamusic and Josh Bauman at 206 Dunn, both in Toronto, are drawn together despite varying intents through Ross‘ voice and the contemplative feel of the guitar work that’s mostly at their foundation, but they work outward from there to be sure, and along multiple paths, be it the woodsy fingerpicking of “Grey” or the full-band, organ-driven, multiple-vocal-layered “Ruby Rose,” which along with “The World’s Slowest Man” feels like a direct precursor to some of what Quest for Fire would offer a few years later. Nordic Nomadic‘s tunes are warm if not always completely molten and acid-soaked, and the subtle shifts in arrangement throughout the self-titled make it feel all the more like the material was built up in the studio, the songs worked on and pushed forward — Aucoin is also credited with “vibes” on the Bandcamp page from whence the player above comes, and that might be what that means (it also might not) — and set in motion patiently following after an ideal sound that’s neither too much nor too little, except where it wants to be one or the other, as in the incoming tide of distortion at the end of “Elk Horn Pyramid” or the door-left-open far-back feel of “The Weather in Your Mind,” contrasted almost immediately by the penultimate “NxNx” with its brighter guitar, emergent pedal steel and straightforward kit drums.

And in light of Skull Creator, as well as his work this past decade in Comet Control, there are hallmarks of Ross‘ style that pop up throughout Nordic Nomadic, whether it’s the declining progression of guitar at the two-minute mark in “NxNx” or the overarching patience with which the material is brought forth, each cut given its space and placed well to make the entire front-to-back experience more fluid. I don’t know the timing on Ross and his The Deadly Snakes bandmate Andrew Moszynski — who released an LP this year with the more garage-minded Strange Colours called Future’s Almost Over — joining Quest for Fire, but there are seeds throughout Nordic Nomadic‘s self-titled of what would become that group’s hallmarks, and the mellow and melodic procession of these songs, though none of them is especially long in itself with the opener and closer bookending as the two longest, manage a delicate balance of sounding fleshed out but not indulgent. They have what they need and not much more, and that need changes almost on a per-song basis, as it would if they were people, needing and wanting different things with different perspectives. Maybe that’s what it means for an album to sound alive. If so, this one does.

In covering the new record, I sprung for a CD of Nordic Nomadic‘s Nordic Nomadic — the project also released Worldwide Skyline (review here) in 2011 through Tee Pee — and it’s been waiting to close out a week ever since. When it came down to it, I didn’t want to let this year end without writing about it. I found it interesting that Ross, who discussed leaving Toronto a bit in an interview here last year, opted to put Skull Creator in his name rather than under the Nordic Nomadic moniker, since that seemed to be the place he returned to between one band and the next, whether it was The Deadly Snakes and Quest for Fire or Quest for Fire and Comet Control, whose future after three records and the aforementioned move I don’t know, but the mood-heavy spirit of Nordic Nomadic remains distinct atmospherically, whatever it might share in common with what came after, and the intimacy of its tracks imbued by the mostly quiet, light-on-effects vocals creates a quiet conversation that rewards repeat listens, even these 15 years after the album’s initial release. What is time anyway.

As always, I hope you enjoy if you’re reading this. I know it’s not exactly the most raucous of closures to have it as the last post for the year, but to be honest with you, it’s the kind of party I’m looking for right now and it’s something I’ve enjoyed getting to know better in the months since I picked it up. Maybe you’ll find yourself feeling similar. If not, there’s always next year, and if you didn’t hear Skull Creator, that’s on Bandcamp here.

Thanks for reading.

—

Kid’s been up early all week. Like, pre-5AM. And he’s come downstairs, plopped himself on the couch next to me, and said each time, “Daddy, can we watch Sesame Street now?” because he knows that if he doesn’t specify when the action is taking place, I’ll keep trying to sneak out sentences writing. I’ve been putting him back to bed if it’s 5:30 or earlier, because otherwise he’s basically done with the day at 2PM and the stretch from then until 7:30PM bedtime is a wreck. As I write this, it’s 6:20AM and he’s still asleep. Yesterday we went for a long walk in the relatively nice weather and played on the playground. I’ve never known someone whose well-being is almost singularly placed on whether or not they’re able to move their body. Dude needs to go, and has, basically since he was conscious enough to need anything other than oxygen and sustenance.

He’s been off from school as well, so that’s been a throwoff of routine. He goes back on Tuesday, which means I need to get through Monday and Tuesday on the two-week Quarterly Review to come while balancing that with taking care of him. Nothing I haven’t done before, but still gonna see if the babysitter (whom he loves) can come hang out on Monday for a while. They wreck shit together and my cleaning up afterward is worth the tradeoff of being able to get a couple good hours of writing in. You have to find ways to make these things work or they simply won’t.

Here he comes downstairs. Fine. I’ll take it.

I also hope to have the year-end poll results up on Monday, so please look for that.

You’ll pardon me if I’m light on grand reflections on the year’s end. This year had its ups and downs, like everything. I’m glad to have live music back, and I said earlier this year that I was worried that I was living the best times of my life right now, something I’ve always considered in the future. I’m working to appreciate these times as they happen. I remind myself all the time, and more often I still fail. I’m overwhelmed, I’m tired or I’m sad, or the persistent feeling-wrong in my own body is just too much. But I’ve got this house, I’m alive, my family is mostly healthy, myself included even with that knee surgery and the residual discomfort. These are things to appreciate. Blessings that in my better moments I remember to count, even though sometimes it feels like there’s a barrier between me and feeling good about any of it. That’s life.

So, Quarterly Review for the next two weeks. I’ve timed it poorly. There are a couple premieres that were already slated that I’ll need to do as well — it’s a different mindset going from doing 10 reviews at 150-200 words and digging into a video or something else; I’ve found that transition difficult at times in the past — but they’ll happen and survival is all but assured, even as I expect starting next Tuesday a whole bunch of album and tour announcements for Spring will happen as the music industry picks up after its general holiday break. So it goes. I’ll do my best.

No Gimme show today, but I’ll have ep. 101 next Friday. Pretty wild they keep letting me do that.

If you do up New Year’s as a thing, I wish you good times and safe celebrating, and I hope you have a great weekend either way. I’ll be glad to be in bed by 9PM on Saturday, maybe vacuum at some point in the next couple days. That’s how we (or at least I) party down these days: lightly stoned, probably doing dishes.

I need to check in with Dave MiBK, but I’m hoping to have some new merch at some point. My Bandcamp funds are nil and I didn’t have the PayPal credit I thought I did when I bought Quest for Fire’s demo off Discogs yesterday for $35 with money from my account that I don’t really have to spare. So it goes.

Great and safe weekend. Again, thanks for reading and here’s to more to come. See you next year.

FRM.

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The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Tim Smolens of High Castle Teleorkestra

—

How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

I produce and arrange music that draws on a variety of genres not typically put together, and assemble it in such a way that hopefully leaves the listener hearing it as unified. You could vaguely call it “progressive,” music, but it doesn’t have all that much in common with music typically stamped with that label.

Describe your first musical memory.

I made my mom take me to buy a 7-inch single of “Eye of the Tiger” which I had heard in Rocky when I was about five years old. I still like that tune to this day as it has an amazing energy that should get any listener pumped up for any occasion!

Describe your best musical memory to date.

I got to play cello on a John Zorn song that was arranged and produced by the Secret Chiefs 3/Trey Spruance called Hamaya on (Masada) Xaphan, Book of Angels vol. 9. It was a great honor since I had been a big fan of certain Zorn music for years. The kicker here is that I am not even really a cellist. I play contrabass which has similarities but cellists have much more melodic dexterity and therefore possess a different skill set that is not native to me. With some coaching from Trey he was able to coax a few takes out of me that sounded much better than I would have expected from a hack cellist like myself. I was surprised.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

Every day, but I am having trouble pinpointing specific examples.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Hopefully towards truth and beauty but probably more often towards emotional release and a portrayal of the artists current state of being. Some art lifts us up towards that to which we aspire to, while others pull us back down by cinematically portraying the battles, roadblocks and adversity that routinely populate our paths. Both have their place.

How do you define success?

From an artistic standpoint success is when the result is better than what was planned. The artist worked hard but the subconscious elements (seeds) of the work took root and sprouted a life of their own as well.

As uncool as it is to talk about financial success, if you can’t make a living from your art you will have much less time to work on it which is the boat I currently find myself sailing in.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Well I work as an ER nurse so you I will spare everyone the details!

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

Music composition and recordings using all pure intervals (just intonation), which is much more difficult since western music uses a compromise of a tuning system (equal temperament). It is so much more beautiful and has an incredible resonance but is hard to pull off because many musicians do not know how to tune in such a way, and many instruments are incapable of it (fixed pitch instruments).

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

To elevate the listener from the mire (lead) of their current state to a more transcendent state which they seek (gold).

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

My 13 year-old daughter’s upcoming softball tournaments.

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High Castle Teleorkestra, The Egg That Never Opened (2022)

Today brings the final two installments of All Them Witches‘ Baker’s Dozen singles series. The Nashville four-piece throughout 2022 have been issuing one song at a time on the last Friday of each month, and I guess rather than keep it going into January, they opted for a blowout. No complaints. Both cuts are available to stream in the videos below and are linked through to various digital outlets. I don’t know if they or the whole collection will make their way to Bandcamp or not, but it doesn’t seem unreasonable.

As they have all along, in this series and out of it, the band explore disparate ideas in sound in the last two Baker’s Dozen singles. “Mama is a Shining Star” is an initially-drumless, proggy wash of melody laid out across 10 minutes of psychedelic drone swells, woven violin, even some processed vocals, and gorgeous, true-to-title shimmer set to a procession that breaks past its halfway point to more minimalistic fare, holding a waveform pattern that hints at more until its eventual fade — the hidden messages delivered after the hypnotized state is induced. Their experimentalist side coming forward, satisfyingly as long as you don’t go into it expecting a hook or drummer Robby Staebler‘s restless shuffle, it recalls some of the loop-based movements on 2020’s Nothing is Real (review here), and is encouraging in its freeform style of further adventures to come.

“Real Hippies are Cowboys” pairs organ and pedal steel with layers of electric guitar and bass over its instrumental eight-minute stretch, which rises gradually out of initial lines of guitar and does have more of a full-band feel, drums and all. It’s not their first foray into twang by any means, but it does make a point of its delve into country-psych leaning more toward the one, then the other in its later reaches, while staying loyal to both sides before the jam shows itself out in fading fashion. If that’s to be the epilogue of Baker’s Dozen — 13 of 12, as it were — then the underlying message of All Them Witches remains consistent in their unpredictability. Throughout this entire series, one has never really known what’s coming next. For a band who’ve been around more than a decade now, have enjoyed more success and influence than most ostensibly ‘heavy’ acts in that time and have six full-lengths under their collective belt, that they can keep their audience guessing without sacrificing the quality of their work shouldn’t be discounted as a consideration. They keep winding up in new places, thankfully.

The entirety of Baker’s Dozen is streaming below in the various players. The last two songs are first, then the rest all the way back to January’s “Blacksnake Blues,” in suitably jumbled order.

Enjoy:

All Them Witches, “Mama is a Shining Star”

All Them Witches, “Real Hippies are Cowboys”

Mama is a Shining Star: https://allthemwitches.lnk.to/shiningstar

Real Hippies are Cowboys: https://allthemwitches.lnk.to/realhippies

allthemwitches.lnk.to/soon

Tour On Sale Now:
https://allthemwitches.lnk.to/tour

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All Them Witches is:
Charles Michael Parks, Jr – bass, vocals, acoustic guitar
Ben McLeod – guitar, vocals
Robby Staebler – drums, vocals
Allan Van Cleave – Rhodes piano, keys, violin

All Them Witches, “Hush, I’m on TV”

All Them Witches, “Holding Your Breath Across the River”

All Them Witches, “Tour Death Song”

All Them Witches, “Tiger’s Pit”

All Them Witches, “6969 WXL The Cage”

All Them Witches, “L’Hotel Serein” official video

All Them Witches, “Acid Face” official video

All Them Witches, “Blacksnake Blues”

All Them Witches, “Fall Into Place” official video

All Them Witches, “Silver to Rust” official video

All Them Witches, “Slow City” official video

All Them Witches on Instagram

All Them Witches on Facebook

All Them Witches on Bandcamp

What might legitimately be called a ‘return’ since it’s their first studio album in eight years, Ahab‘s The Coral Tombs (on Napalm Records) brings the perhaps-inevitable meeting between the nautically-themed Heidelberg, Germany, death-doom metallers and the subject matter of Jules Verne’s 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea. That rare bit of sci-fi that’s become part of the literary canon, the tale of Captain Nemo, Professor Pierre Arronax, and the undersea vessel Nautilus is a story that’s been told and retold, adapted across media that didn’t even exist when it was written, and interpreted by the public domain since its first serialized publication in 1869-1870, the story and the band — whose most recent studio album was 2015’s The Boats of the Glen Carrig, also based on a 1907 novel by William Hope Hodgson; does nobody write about the ocean anymore? — are well suited to each other.

Here, the sound is bleak, extreme, and duly funereal for an offering with ‘tombs’ in its title, and in the mournful severity of a song like “Mobilis in Mobilii,” which is third in the seven-song sequence after “Prof. Arronax’s Descent Into the Vast Oceans,” featuring a guest vocal contribution from Chris Dark of Köln’s Ultha, and “Colossus of the Liquid Graves,” which is the shortest inclusion at 6:25 and a work of lurching, consuming death resolved in its own dirge march in its second half, The Coral Tombs brings an inescapable sense of all-sides crushing pressure. Both because of the band’s stated theme, their obvious awareness of their own intentions five albums and 18 years into their tenure, and the general nature of doom itself — they are by no means the only ones to relate slow, undulating riffs to salty waves — it’s somewhat hard to get away from watery metaphors, but even in its quietest, creepier stretches, the purposefully overwhelming 66 minutes of The Coral Tombs is farther down than the sun goes, atmospherically speaking, and monstrous like the unknown.

A return to producer/engineer Jens Siefert at RAMA Studios in Mannheim assures that the four-piece — founding guitarists Daniel Droste (also vocals and keys) and Christian Hector, as well as bassist Stephan Wandernoth and drummer Cornelius Althammer, who, yes, has the most righteous name a drummer could possibly ask for; I do not know if he was born with it, but kudos either way — sound duly masterful in their approach, and, on the most basic level, huge. One cannot manifest the impossible reaches and deadly wondrousness of the Earth’s waters, which threaten to drown even as they hypnotize with its beauty, in minor fashion, and Ahab have been at this a while now, so it should be no surprise they know what they’re doing. The Coral Tombs‘ songs are shorter on average than were those of The Boats of the Glen Carrig — the band also released Live Prey (review here) in 2020; they have not been absent these last eight years — as that album had one of six pieces under 10 minutes long and this one has three of seven and nothing that reaches longer than 12, but long or short, it is the ambience and the willful slog that make the most resonant impression, such that the sheer heft of their tonality, tectonically significant as it might be, is only part of their aesthetic.

The mood of centerpiece “The Sea as a Desert,” for example, feels even more crucial than the impact, particularly as Droste departs from low death metal growling in favor of a wistful clean-sung midsection and ending that is worthy of comparison to Warning. That’s not his first trade between harshness and melody on The Coral Tombs, but it is one that works particularly well amid the swaying progression that backs it, and as “The Sea as a Desert” is the first of four cuts all of which top 10 minutes — a monolith that comprises the bulk of the record that would be a full-length unto itself, if incomplete in narrative — it also draws the listener deeper into the grim grandeur that continues to unfold across “A Coral Tomb,” “Ægri Somnia” and closer “The Mælstrom,” which bookends Chris Dark‘s guest appearance on “Prof. Arronax’s Descent Into the Vast Oceans” by welcoming Greg Chandler of experimentalist doom extremists Esoteric for a corresponding vocal spot.

While the ocean teems with life — less so thanks to humans and our collective affinity for habitat destruction, but still — “A Coral Tomb” is relatively minimal, holding a persistent threat across its first eight minutes that even when it surges to full crescendo remains consistent in its atmospheric lean, and “Ægri Somnia” follows suit with a beginning of softly meandering guitar that seems to grow more mysterious and sinister as it develops toward the eventual crash and growls, which, as with the song before, give way to melodic singing that is sustained through the ending. One wonders if Droste needs to growl at all at this point, but the honest answer is probably yes. With a feedback ending awaiting, “Ægri Somnia” arrives at a viciously heavy apex, and lets “The Mælstrom” with its more immediate and clean-vocals-up-front start serve as the capstone for The Coral Tombs‘ entire procession.

The feeling is duly ceremonial for being both the summary of the record and the end of the story being related, and with Chandler‘s vocals placed near the ending, Ahab effectively cast the finish as something bigger than themselves, a kind of bowing to the immensity that, indeed, they’ve made all along, but is that much truer to what they’re portraying for the choice. It is not a decision one would expect from a new band, but though they haven’t had a studio LP (or 2LP, or 3LP, etc.) in some time, Ahab are nonetheless veterans, with an established aural persona the parameters of which serve as a guide for their ongoing creative development. By its very character, let alone the contextual sphere in which it resides, The Coral Tombs will likely not be universal in its appeal, but while some listeners won’t be able to reach it, others will dive that much deeper for the cold siren calls ringing out from this material.

Ahab, The Coral Tombs (2023)

Ahab on Instagram

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Ahab website

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Napalm Records website

A few weeks back, Italian heavy rockers Humulus announced the departure from the band of guitarist/vocalist Andrea Van Cleef, a not-at-all minor presence in the Brescia-based trio alongside bassist Giorgio Bonacorsi and drummer Massimiliano Boventi. Good terms, still friends, all that. Sometimes it’s time to go. It happens. Boventi and Bonacorsi said at the time they would be continuing the group, and today they announce that Thomas Mascheroni will take over fronting duties from here on out.

Mascheroni, who also performs as Thomas Greenwood in the outfit Thomas Greenwood and the Talismans, released the psych-garage-blues-ish Rituals full-length earlier this year, and comes to Humulus following the band’s 2020 third LP, The Deep (review here). That record greatly expanded Humulus‘ prior approach, sort of blew the roof off the thing, and while there isn’t any new audio from Humulus Mk. II yet, I’ve been fortunate enough to hear some recent rehearsal recordings of new songs in progress, and they sound like Humulus are going to be continuing on an exploratory path as Mascheroni and the established rhythm section come together.

They’re saying new album in 2023. Crazier things have occurred, certainly, and I hear having goals is a good thing. Best of luck to the band, and Van Cleef, who has said he’s soon to return with a new project. Again, goals. My goal right now is another cup of coffee, so while I handle that you read this from the PR wire:

Lineup changes are often difficult and complex and when Andrea decided to quit Humulus was for sure not easy to look to the future immediately with positive vibes… but we’ve been lucky and few days after the break up, Thomas Mascheroni joined the band!!!

He has also a solo project with the name of Thomas Greenwood and his last record “Rituals” (https://thomasgreenwoodband.bandcamp.com/album/rituals) went out this year. We’ve listened to this LP, and we really liked his sound and his voice.

So here we are!!! We are working hard on new material, new songs are coming fast and for sure we’ll be out later in 2023 with an LP.

Some gigs are already planned for spring and summer and we’ll play new songs and some old classics… stay tuned on our social pages for announcements.

We are very excited for this new adventure, for sure the new sound and songs will be different, but this is the best part of the game!!!

Humulus are:
Thomas Greenwood – Guitar/Vocals
Giorgio Bonacorsi – Bass
Massimiliano Boventi – Drums

Photo by Francesca Bordoli @francescabordoliph

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http://www.humulus.bandcamp.com

http://kozmik-artifactz.com/
https://www.facebook.com/kozmikartifactz

Humulus, The Deep (2020)

Thomas Greenwood and the Talismans, Rituals (2022)

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Nathan Carson of Witch Mountain & Nanotear Booking

—

How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

In the broad sense, I’m a creator, a producer, a communicator, and a connector. How did I become a booking agent, internationally touring drummer, FM radio DJ, music journalist, and published author? Baby steps. Thousands of them.

Describe your first musical memory.

In the mid-seventies, my aunt Vicky was the 17-year old bombshell lead singer of a regionally successful Midwest rock group called The Hot Ice Band. They sounded a bit like Jefferson Airplane, and had a development deal with a big label that put out their single “Fly Away.” My parents took me to see them in concert at a college show with a couple thousand people in attendance when I was three years old. All I remember is that it was very loud, and I hated it. But I kept the 7” and have always enjoyed that.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

I have enough of those to fill a book, and I plan to. Honestly, though, Witch Mountain played two shows last weekend, and the chemistry and communication we have developed over the years is exactly what I would hope for. It feels amazing to play with my friends in front of an audience who appreciate what we do.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

There have been a few times when I upheld an obligation to a friend or client, even though a better opportunity had come along for me. In the moment, I didn’t question it. I just stuck with the plan because I didn’t want to back out on anyone who might be relying on me. In the long run, I’ve come to regret a few of those, because some of those opportunities didn’t come again. I’m not saying I would ever leave someone in the lurch, but I think there could have been a graceful way to have my cake without burning anyone in the process. Live and learn.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

From what I’ve seen, it’s an infinite road that only ends with death. Very few creators retire from making art. They might retire from the cumbersome commercial aspects, but I can’t think of anyone who made great art and then just decided to watch bad TV for the rest of their life.

How do you define success?

I grew up in a mobile home in the backwoods of rural Oregon. My parents impressed on us from a young age that all that matters is being happy, without fucking anyone else over. I feel incredibly successful simply because I spend the majority of my time on the things I care about and want to work on. Sure, I am driven by praise and accomplishment and I do enjoy any recognition. But I’ve already met or exceeded most of my life goals, which were not terribly unrealistic to start with.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Korn opening for Ozzy in ’95.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

I have started my novel. It’s not done yet. And it’s taking longer than I’d hoped. But I aim to make it good.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Inspiration. For the creator, and the recipient.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

I’ve got five good friends coming over tomorrow to play a long afternoon game of vintage 2nd Edition Talisman Fantasy Board Game (with all the expansion sets). We’ll see who truly wields the Crown Of Command this time!

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Witch Mountain, Live at Mississippi Studios, Portland, Oregon, Aug. 12, 2022

Witch Mountain, “Priceless Pain” lyric video

This is not a new album, but it is a new release. Based in Hamilton, New Zealand, the solo-project Lamp of the Universe debuted in the long-ago memory fog of 2001, issuing The Cosmic Union (discussed here) through Cranium Records. The lone figure behind the outing, who has kept the project to himself ever since, was and remains Craig Williamson, who at the time was only two years out from the breakup of his prior band, the more directly riff-rocking and still-prime-for-reissue Datura, and though he might not have guessed it at the time, The Cosmic Union would become the starting point for one of the most engaging progressions in psychedelic music of any stripe.

Through the years since, that’s been true be it the Eastern-informed acid folk represented in this first offering or subsequent adventures in tantric drone, krautrock-style synth and keyboard work, or even more band-style heavy psych rock, all taking place under the umbrella of Lamp of the Universe and the auteurship of Williamson. Also reissued in 2011 through Williamson‘s Astral Projection imprint and through Krauted Mind in 2018, The Cosmic Union finds a ‘definitive’ vinyl incarnation through Greece’s Sound Effect Records, and I won’t even pretend to pretend I’m not happy to have the excuse for a revisit.

From the first strums of acoustic guitar and sitar on “Born in the Rays of the Third Eye” across the vast distance to the tabla-percussed pre-Om meditative sprawl folk of “Tantra Asana” and the subsequent chime-peppered stretch of sitar, chimes, and keyboard-string sounds that cap the record, The Cosmic Union has a patience and a presence unto itself. In its full eight-song/53-minute run — the digital version also includes the bonus track “By the Grace of Love,” not on the vinyl — it does not feel like a minor undertaking, because it isn’t. This was the CD era, and Williamson‘s experimentalist crux in the lysergic, vaguely-Britfolk “Give Yourself to Love,” here the closer of side B on the first LP, and the relative minimalism in the echoing, purposefully-left-open spaces of “Her Cosmic Light” require a conscious engagement.

While it’s never overbearing even in its lushest arrangements, the trade for that is that following Williamson along the album’s complex, universally molten and slowly shifting course can be a challenge for short attention spans. Different listeners will have different experiences; duh. In mine, The Cosmic Union is singular in its beauty and effect on the listener. I’ve chased down records upon records, styles upon styles trying to get some semblance of what comes together so fluidly and naturally in these songs — even some albums recommended by Williamson himself — and I’ve never found one that delivers its vibe with such grace. It is an album that, when heard properly, slows time.

“Born in the Rays of the Third Eye” and “Lotus of a Thousand Petals” brought together and isolated, just the two of them, on side A feels like a landmark, even 21 years after the fact. Those two songs, in almost unassuming fashion, would become touchstones for Lamp of the Universe, and as Williamson moved forward quickly with 2002’s Echo in Light, 2005’s single-song-broken-into-parts long-player, Heru (discussed here), and 2006’s assemblage of mostly longform pieces From the Mystical Rays of Astrological Light, they would remain definitive — there’s that word again — in terms of serving as a primer for the heart of Lamp of the Universe‘s aesthetic project.

Hearing them coupled with side B’s “In the Mystic Light” with its scorching solo work, hand-drumming and one-man jam, and the aforementioned keys-forward twist of “Give Yourself to Love” only emphasizes the point, as well as the breadth that was in Lamp of the Universe from its very beginnings. I’ve tended in recent years to think of Williamson as growing more inclusive of synth and keys with time, and maybe that’s true in terms of adjusting a balance from one element to the next in his composing methods or arrangements, but so much of what Lamp of the Universe has become in the years since is laid out here, or at very least hinted toward, even the bluesy lead rollout and on-a-kit-toms and snare of “Freedom in Your Mind” are prescient, let alone the flowing organ and tambourine that are added later, to fold together on side C with “Her Cosmic Light,” about half as long at 4:12, but resonant just the same in its melodic seeking.

There is not one among the eight songs on The Cosmic Union that doesn’t include the word “love” somewhere in its lyrics. And that’s what the album is. Just as side A sets the foundation for the rest of what unfolds (here and beyond), maybe the strumming circa-1965 George Harrison singer-songwriterism of “What Love Can Bring” and the pushed-farther-out moment when sitar and keys align after the 3:30 mark in “Tantra Asana” on side D are a foundation of their own, if one built in ether. They are united, certainly, as all the material on The Cosmic Union is, by Williamson‘s voice, by their light-touch, inclusive but never overwrought arrangements — that’s a high compliment for an album that has this much sitar and flute and keys, etc. — and by the feeling of love that pervades as the central thematic. As the cover more than hints, The Cosmic Union has a very terrestrial, sometimes downright dirty if you’re lucky, interpretation, but it’s the sharing and proliferation of love that comes through most of all, and if this edition of the album is definitive, it is that love that defines it.

Williamson‘s early-2022 offering, The Akashic Field (review here) — maybe his 13th under the Lamp of the Universe banner — provided hints of what’s to come in 2023 as he moves forward with the heavier as-yet-still-solo band Dead Shrine, whose debut album is impending, but even it was in conversation in some ways with The Cosmic Union, in songs like “Minds of Love” or “Mystic Circle.” This shouldn’t surprise, necessarily, anyone who has charted Williamson‘s progression lo these last two decades, but it does emphasize just how expansive, how inclusive and how crucial The Cosmic Union is. I’ve said before and I’ll say here that on a personal level, this is a record I love. Hearing it again in this new form — new to me, anyhow, since I didn’t have it on vinyl before — it is all the more special for the conversation the material has with itself as well as the surrounding spectra. If you seek healing, this is music that heals.

Lamp of the Universe, The Cosmic Union (2001)

Lamp of the Universe on Facebook

Lamp of the Universe on Instagram

Lamp of the Universe on Bandcamp

Sound Effect Records on Facebook

Sound Effect Records website

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Marcos Coifman from Reino Ermitaño, La Garúa, Necromongo and More

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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

Concerning music… In short, I am a heavy rock bass player and I sing a bit too, but there’s more to it. I am not a gifted instrumentalist, and never did quite practice long enough to become a truly good one, like anything within earshot of a session musician, I’m just Ok good at what I do. I studied some musical theory a couple of times in my life but I didn’t stick with it for very long, my relationship with music has always been instinctual. I don’t claim this a s a point of pride, mind you, but rather to state that my main interest has mostly always been composing, writing songs, lyrics and melodies. Perhaps I have some talent there. I don’t think I’m a gifted arrange-maker either; I’ve often relied on talented guitarists for that: bridges and solos, getting from point A to point B and C and whatnot. What I love to create is mostly a structure of riffs and build its relationship with a vocal melody counterpart. The meat of a song.

I was brought up drawing and painting and always believed that was going to be my main path. I suppose it still is, I am a visual artist, a painter. Reason I mention this is because to me the creative process in writing songs is not too different from the one in painting: I follow what I call the pleasure principle… it begins with an emotion, which I hone into and follow and try to express as best I can through lines and color or through sounds and words. It is important to me that it starts from there, from within, where there is something that exists, that is felt, something you can follow and recognize, something you feel, when the sounds you make hit the mark and resound with that emotion. Surely one can pick up an instrument and fiddle or begin drawing and doodling and start from there, but when I do that the result feels like a study, like practice, not like art. If there’s no inner feeling going on, driving you, nothing that yearns to break out from the unconscious I’d rather not do anything, really… whenever I’ve tried, I’ve been bored with the result. It doesn’t really matter where it takes you so long as it’s genuine and I try to not manipulate what’s going on too much into pre-concepted forms, as I believe sticking to the genuine, true emotion or story or whatever’s going on inside you and letting it flow naturally is paramount to the whole process.

Describe your first musical memory.

I came into music at an early age – it was always around in my house when I was little, my mom used to play the Beatles, classical and Hispanic music constantly – but I came into the heavy around 12 or so and was hooked on metal… this is around the mid-eighties, so from Maiden to Metallica to Slayer and on to heavier things didn’t take long. But I do remember being a very small kid, like maybe 5, listening to 45’s in the old, large old-timey Telefunken stereo my grandparents had (which I still have and use). Had a favorite record too, even if I used to constantly draw shit on it and my very kind grand mom had to replace it a couple of times. This was it, in all it’s 60’s Gypsy Argentinian Nueva Ola Pop glory: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjyRUeML6nc

Describe your best musical memory to date.

Hmm… Ok, first I want to say that from the whole musical process, including touring, playing gigs and festivals and releasing records, out of everything, I think the part which has constantly pumped me full of pure pleasure the most is that time when the song that has been gestating in your brain for quite a while and which you’ve gone over acoustically with your bandmates sounds at full blast for the first time in the practice space… it’s just fucking brilliant. And the cool thing is you get to re-experience that high as you keep making music, never gets old.

That said… seeing Black Sabbath reunited (WITH Bill Ward, mind you) in 1999 felt like a full circle amazing experience to me. Just something I didn’t hope to see and just made me completely happy at the time. But there have been many, many highlights. Playing with Reino Ermitaño in Germany’s Doom Shall Rise certainly was one, what a cool gig and people.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

You know, I can’t really say I’ve had that experience, that I remember. I might forget, but I feel I’ve always done what I wanted to do. Artistically, musically I, we, any band I’ve been in, we never did the slightest thing to please anyone but ourselves, so I have no “almost sold out, but stuck to our guns” stories, heh. I don’t even think I firmly hold any belief, to be honest. I just do me and free and fuck the rest. Respectfully.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Well, with the right stimulus it can lead to greatness, can’t it? If your art knows nothing but struggle, I suppose it depends on how your head works and what your circumstances in life are, but it surely can be hard to feed your art and keep growing and not get bogged down… but in the right time and place, hey… Black Sabbath, Hendrix, The Beatles, what have you… of course an insane amount of talent was there, but also the world conspired to allow them to nurture it into peak heights. Sabotage, Physical Graffiti… would those records have been written without the bands’ previous success and support? Probably not, I think.

In any case, even without financial success, even without peers, art can progress and lead to a sense of fulfillment that is not unlike a spiritual or religious high. And that is success in and of itself.

How do you define success?

Sticking to music and art in general… as I said in the previous question, to me success comes with the completion of a project you are content with, one which truly makes you feel fulfilled. That is the core. And then there’s success… I would feel successful enough to live only of my art, with no material worries, as any artist would, perhaps. But that can be a tall order in this world. In any case I’ve never had ambition for Rock and Roll stardom or art history books. The respect of my peers and the love by people who dig the work we’ve done in our small doom niche around the world has been fulfilling to me.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Cheesus, that’s a hard one… I live in Peru, there’s a lot of ghastly sights we’ve seen. I once unintentionally stepped on a hand after a car bomb blew up some blocks from my house in the eighties. And truly, it doesn’t matter where you are, the world has horror enough for all of us. Can’t think of a particular nightmare at the moment that was so traumatizing I wish I could erase, though… while I do have some regrets in life, I don’t really wish to unsee or unlive any of it. It doesn’t work that way for me.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

I am in the process of making the guts of what will become a record with my new band, illwind. I wanna’ make that very badly. Gods willing, it will happen soon. Other than that, I hope there’s still a whole universe of unsettling dreams for me to paint that I have yet to discover.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Connection. For sure. Above and beyond all, art is about connecting. It is about connecting with yourself and the regions beyond your consciousness that you can only access in dreams. It’s about connecting with other people through a language richer, and more profound than words as we normally use them – poetry excluded. It can be about connecting with the spiritual or an upper (or lower) plane, as religions or psychedelics do or attempt to. We are still very small, see? This language we use and these senses and the society we’ve built for us are great (yes I know, bear with me, I’m aware of the shit as well) but through art we can reach into a deeper form of connection of the self, of the senses, we can shed our everyday husk for a while and touch something soul-moving. That’s it.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

Travelling. Fucking hell, how do I miss that. It’s been a while. Hopefully soon.

https://www.facebook.com/witchdoomperu/
https://open.spotify.com/artist/7FxqC0kNJWel8iv3jvNBcz

https://www.facebook.com/lagaruablues/
https://www.instagram.com/lagaruablues/

https://www.facebook.com/necromongo.crustnroll/

https://www.marcoscoifman.com/

Reino Ermita​ñ​o, Reino Ermita​ñ​o (2019 reissue)

La Garúa, Panza de burro thunder blues (2013)