If one considers the cover art’s pipe-organ bongs emitting purple smoke, stoner pinup, Satanskull on keys — and of course he has a beard — a red sky far back and all the pot leaves, then yeah, you could probably say Dopelord‘s Black Arts, Riff Worship & Weed Cult is a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of record. The sophomore full-length from the Warsaw-based four-piece was self-released on April 24, 2014, which one assumes is as close as they could get to 4/20 that year, and fair enough.

Comprised of five tracks and running a tidy 40 minutes, with a sample about a sabbath at the start of the hooky “Addicted to Black Magick,” some standalone horror piano at the end of “Preacher Electrick,” a languid slog even behind the buzzsaw solo in the second half of “Acid Trippin'” that calls back to Black Sabbath‘s “Snowblind” before the tempo finally kicks up to its winding finish, the sense that “Green Plague” is falling apart even as it runs at a gallop reminiscent specifically of “Into the Void,” or the way the 11-and-a-half-minute finale “Pass the Bong” seems to lay it all on the line in its combination of Electric Wizard and Sleep influences, pulling together a Jus Oborn-style vocal over tonality that rests nicely alongside Sleep‘s “The Clarity,” which was released in July of the same year.

Black Arts, Riff Worship & Weed Cult — which certainly could be the name of a catalog I’d look forward to getting in the mail every month — codifies the ultra-stoner foundation Dopelord put forth on 2012’s Magick Rites (review here) and is a crucial moment for the band, coming at a time when the next generation of meme-ready weedian heavy was really just taking shape. Part of the record’s brilliance is in speaking to the subculture from within the subculture, as believe it or not, not everyone in the world is going to look at a bong pipe organ and understand that translates to the thick walls of fuzz distortion wrought by guitarist/lead vocalist Paweł Mioduchowski, guitarist Grzegorz Pawłowski, bassist/vocalist Piotr Zin and drummer Grzesiek “Xerxes” Wilpiszewski (currently in Black Tundra) or know immediately what planet that red sky is on.

Stoner doom is not the only subgenre under the heavy metal umbrella that preaches to the converted — see all, yes all, thrash metal since about 1989 — but the sense of Dopelord being fans of the style as well as players, rather than distancing themselves from it to pretend toward some kind of artistic objectivity, which is a fantasy at best in 99 percent of cases, is palpable throughout, and their revelry of nod becomes all the more accessible to the listener for the fact that the band is actually enjoying what they do.

And from the still-goes-where-you-think-it’s-going-but-twists-on-the-road-to-get-there changes in “Addicted to Black Magick” through the subversive critique buried in the lumber of “Preacher Electrick” — I saw Dopelord in October and before they played “Hail Satan” from 2020’s Sign of the Devil (review here), Mioduchowski noted from the stage that they could get arrested for playing that kind of song in a church in their home country; “Preacher Electrick” feels like the prototype on which that’s built — as the record moves into that three-song mega-dig of doomed riffs and hazy vibes, in “Preacher Electrick” (8:52), “Acid Trippin'” (7:39) and “Green Plague” (7:29), the roll they conjure coming out of the album’s opener is deepened, stretched out, beat up and chugged into oblivion across this span of tracks, listenable and melodic but never failing to speak to the style, is the heart of Dopelord‘s righteous in self-awareness.

That is to say, they know what they’re doing as they enjoy it, and whether it’s the black arts, the riff worship, or the weed cult, the vibe in the album is celebratory even as the riffing that leads the way through so much of it is downer-doomed and baked to the nines. It’s not so much “drop out of life with bong in hand” as it is, “we already dropped out of life with bong in hand, we recommend you do the same immediately, in fact, here’s an extra bong we have lying around, why don’t you take it and come party with us for a bit?” As invitations go, one could do far, far worse.

Whether or not you get the VHS-horror references tucked into the lyrics of “Addicted to Black Magick” — Riding with the Devil, anyone? — or get swept up in the is-that-an-extra-layer-of-drums headfuckery of noise in “Green Plague,” Black Arts, Riff Worship & Weed Cult remains brazen in its adherence to the tenets of genre, breaking the fourth wall a bit with a knowing wink directed toward its listenership, but clearly executed with a love of the heft it makes even in that chaotic wah-swirl as “Green Plague” moves toward its residual feedback culmination and “Pass the Bong” slams its massive initial crashes as if to announce you’ve arrived at the gates of the Riff-Filled Land with Al Cisneros as St. Peter, the consuming spirit of fun is reaffirmed in gloriously voluminous fashion.

Yes, fun. Among the greatest innovations of the generation of stoner heavy to which Dopelord belongs is to remember that for both those playing it and those hearing, this kind of music can be a good time, celebrating the legacy of the style and inherently adding something new to it in tone, method and construction of its own songs. Coming off their debut, Black Arts, Riff Worship & Weed Cult was a moment of realization for Dopelord, and for all its overbearing plod, there are flourishes and details throughout, be it vocal patterning, a run on bass, or what seems to be an extra layer of snare drum, or even just the way “Pass the Bong” seems to decide to swing on a whim in its final couple minutes on the way to the inevitably noisy ending, the is-as-does weedism of Dopelord is no less infectious than their catchiest chorus, and nine years after its initial release — there have been other reissues and pressings along the way — Black Arts, Riff Worship & Weed Cult speaks to a time of heavy resurgence not just for its native Polish underground, but for the heavier realms of fuzz as a whole. If it isn’t yet, it’s the kind of thing that those who were there will at some point be nostalgic about.

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

—

On Sesame Street this morning, they’re using science to make a rainbow. There are human beings who would find such a thing threatening, and I don’t mind telling you those people are fucking idiots. No, that’s not a hot take, but it’s true just the same.

The Pecan got up at 5:15 this morning, made his way downstairs, and believe it or not was more interested in watching tv on my laptop than letting me finish writing the above. And as I was in the bathroom moments ago, number one, I could hear him in the living room yelling, “Daddy, yogurt!” as though I’d either forgotten or not told him I was hitting the can first. At least I didn’t get punched when I “finally” got back to the couch with the coveted Siggi’s vanilla. In a bit of a tyrant phase, we are.

The Patient Mrs., meanwhile, sleeps, and where I might otherwise get her up so I can go swimming, I’ll let her get whatever rest she can since she was out last night having dinner with a friend in Jersey City. I’ll go later, or tomorrow, it doesn’t matter. I do need to buy more yogurt at the Wegmans by the gym though, so that’s gonna weigh on my brain until it gets done, as that kind of thing does. Also, I missed taking out the garbage yesterday and I’m a little furious at myself for it.

My neurologist put me on Adderall, for ADHD, presumably. I started on 5mg last month, which was nothing, and moved up to 10mg this month, which by the way is also not a magic bullet for shutting up an apparently persistent sense of panic in my brain. This and 150mg of Wellbutrin for depression, along with a slew of vitamins, are the current morning regimen. I don’t like Wellbutrin and don’t think it helps, but I take it because I’m told to, and without my support whatever would become of those poor pharmaceutical companies? They should have a Bandcamp Friday for pills.

Speaking of, it’s Bandcamp Friday. I got a bit of cash from merch sales so have been enjoying that. Thanks if you bought a shirt or anything: http://mibk.bigcartel.com/products.

While I’m dropping plugs, new Gimme show at 5PM Eastern. Playlist will be posted before this is, and go here to stream it: http://gimmemetal.com.

Before I go make toast for the next stage of The Pecan’s breakfast, I’d like to thank you for the love this week as regards The Obelisk’s 14th anniversary. It doesn’t feel like all that long, but we’re heading toward 16,000 posts, so I guess my perspective on that is a bit warped. I’m pretty sure I’ve still missed more good stuff than I’ve caught, but I’m doing my best, gonna continue with that. In any case, the response was appreciated. I’m glad to know I’m not the only one getting something out of this.

Up and down week. Most are. Last weekend was crazy busy and I’m hoping this one will be less so. You know, once the sun finally comes up today.

Whatever you’re up to, have a great and safe time. Have fun, hydrate, watch your head. Next week I’m reviewing Polymoon and there’s a bunch of other stuff going on that I need to organize, so I’m gonna go do that. Okay. Thanks again.

FRM.

The Obelisk Collective on Facebook

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

Tags: Black Arts Riff Worship & Weed Cult, Dopelord, Dopelord Black Arts Riff Worship & Weed Cult, Poland, Warsaw

This entry was posted on Friday, February 3rd, 2023 at 12:10 pm and is filed under Bootleg Theater. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.