Friday Full-Length: Holy Grove, Holy Grove
There was no real arguing with Holy Grove at the time, either. Based in Portland, Oregon, the bluesy heavy psychedelic soul rockers made their self-titled debut (review here) in 2016 through Heavy Psych Sounds. The response, if it wasn’t immediate, was close enough to it to be indistinguishable, and justified. Production by Billy Anderson and Adam Pike and Mike Moore (the latter two overdubs), still-stunning cover art by Adam Burke, a sound as thick as fuzzy as you like and the powerhouse vocals of Andrea Vidal cutting through with command and presence. I don’t want to call it a no-brainer for fear of being misinterpreted as saying the record is dumb, but certainly for those listening to it, the “well duh this sure rules” factor was pretty high.
Holy Grove circa Holy Grove was Vidal, bassist Gregg Emley, guitarist Trent Jacobs and drummer Craig Bradford. The latter didn’t stick around, and the band would go through a succession of drummers for the better part of the next half-decade, even booking a run in early 2020 that would’ve featured Andy Patterson (The Otolith, ex-SubRosa, ex-Iota, etc.) on drums — like everything else that Spring, it was canceled, but the prospect existed — but the groove fostered by the ‘original’ or at least the ‘initial’ lineup of the band wants for nothing. Beginning the seven-track procession with the nodder “Death of Magic” before its apparent revival in the slow-lumbering “Nix” — Emley introducing on bass the central riff that hearkens to C.O.C.‘s “Albatross,” as well as to Quest for Fire and, while we’re on “duh,” Black Sabbath — the album immediately knows its place, what it is, what it wants to do, and why. There is no questioning of purpose, no tentative rolling of metaphoric dice. Sometimes a band just sounds like they know their shit rules. To wit, “Holy Grove.”
From Sleep to All Them Witches, Witch Mountain and YOB and well beyond, Holy Grove seemed content to let the riffs sort out their own place in a heavy underground sphere. Their doom, always heavy, was restrained in its severity by languid tempos and an abiding sense of largesse, and the stops and volume swells and scorching leads of “Holy Grove” demonstrate clearly their focus on craft over specific genre adherence. Their songs, on Holy Grove and its 2018 follow-up, Holy Grove II (review here), can be expansive, crunching or both, and “Nix” early serves as a precursor to the closing duo “Hanged Man” and “Safe Return” later, both of which also top seven minutes in length, while even the shorter, riff-centered “Huntress” — centerpiece of the record, mind you — has an atmospheric impression cast through its tones, the reach of its mix, and the treatment on Vidal‘s vocals, intermittently layered and dynamic in keeping with the instruments surrounding, aligning with the rest of the band for the speedier, ultra-Iommic swing push at the end of “Huntress.”
There wasn’t much more Holy Grove could’ve done to bring people on board, short perhaps of mailing everybody on the planet who might be interested a free copy of the record. The energy of the second
half of “Huntress” is maintained into “Caravan,” which offsets the thrust of its verse by opening to a stop in its chorus, Vidal controlling a tempest with backing vocals in a moment reminiscent but not necessarily derivative of Witch Mountain, whose former singer Uta Plotkin seemed capable of similar conjurations but whose style is more doom overall. Jacobs takes a particular burner of a solo in “Caravan” — if it’s been a while since you heard the album, listen for it — and just before giving over to the last two tracks, Holy Grove find the highest gear in terms of shove that they’ll hit on their debut. When “Caravan” stops, it’s a heavy silence.
And at 8:49, “Hanged Man” announces its arrival with far-back, fading-in vocals and a pointed spaciousness reinforced as the guitar holds out its first distorted riff like the version of “Black Sabbath” that might’ve showed up on Dehumanizer had they re-recorded it (and why didn’t they?), and unfurls with patience toward its stop-chug and twist-around blues verse, at once traditional and their own. Guitar howls in the second cycle through, and the roll of the chorus gives over to a consuming tempo push, multi-tiered, that summarizes the trajectory and dynamic the band have employed throughout, whether that’s shifts in volume or meter, mood or vibe, let alone volume. “Hanged Man” slows again to slide into its final hook, and ends big to let the momentum carry over to “Safe Return” (7:20), which rounds out with more bluesy stomp, breadth in its backing-vocal-inclusive chorus, and a raucous finish well earned after the tempo kick.
All this was, was a killer debut record. 2016 had a few of them — King Buffalo, Elephant Tree, Vokonis, Spaceslug, Year of the Cobra, etc. — but Holy Grove stood out because, yes, Vidal is just that kind of a performer, and also because Holy Grove is executed with such clarity of vision. It’s not that the record’s perfect — it’s not supposed to be — but that for what it’s doing, it’s doing it in just the right way for itself. It’s its own thing. It exists within a sphere, a genre, and there are plenty of the pieces that make it that will feel familiar to those who know the style more generally, but beyond those superficialities, the persona of Holy Grove was cast in the lack of pretense of this first record and the absolute heart put into the songs.
It’s been five years, but I’m still hopeful Vidal, Emley, Jacobs and a drummer can get a third full-length together. There was still a lot of potential in II amid the band’s strident progression, but in addition to being interested in how they might have grown, I’d be happy just to have a few more songs from them. They never officially broke up or anything, but there hasn’t been a ton of activity in the last three or so years, which I get. Nonetheless, the revisit here only reminds of why I’d been hopeful in the first place.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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Today’s Friday. Kid went to school Monday and Wednesday this week. Tuesday was election day — The Patient Mrs. is now on the school board, which will be good to balance against the two bought-off, book-banning fascists who also got elected — and yesterday and today are teacher’s convention. I don’t know if other states/countries have something similar — probably — but it’s basically two professional development days for teachers, and there is an actual convention they can go to. For kids it’s just days off.
So, days off. Which, of course, are days on.
Yesterday morning dragged so long I’m pretty sure I’m still there. I did finally get the kid out of the house to go to the grocery store, but it was an ‘early Zelda’ day at about 3PM — normally I might try to keep the tv off until 5 or thereabouts — and my back was so sore I could barely move like the entire day, and every word out of The Pecan’s mouth between 5:30AM when she got up and after 9PM when she finally went up to bed because The Patient Mrs. and I were going to bed and I finally convinced her to get the fuck out of our room so we could do that was whined. Whining. All day. Every fucking thing. Whine whine whine. Even about non-complaint stuff. All fucking day. All. Fucking. Day.
I tried to get the babysitter today and she didn’t text me back. I wouldn’t text me back either.
It’s also my sister’s birthday, which is nice. Dinner here, probably. Need to vacuum after working on the kitchen this week, but the new ovens (yes, two) are in and the new cooktop works (though fewer of our pans are induction-ready than we thought), so The Patient Mrs.’ DIY bent continues. She cut out the front of the cabinet to hold the double-oven. It was pretty fucking impressive. Measure twice, and all that.
This weekend is Heavy Psych Sounds in New York. Between family celebration and my back I don’t think I’m going to make it, but if you go there or to Baltimore, have a great time. I’ll be back here on Monday with more shenanigans in pursuit of an eventual sponsorship from Doan’s.
Have fun, be safe, drink water. Thanks for reading.
FRM.
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Tags: Heavy Psych Sounds, Holy Grove, Holy Grove Self-titled, Oregon, Portland, self-titled
