Album Review: Valley of the Sun, The Blacklight Sessions
At 15 years’ remove from their declarative 2011 second EP, The Sayings of the Seers (review here), with guitarist/vocalist Ryan Ferrier as the sole remaining founder and miles and miles of road stretching both behind and ahead as a hardworking, touring act (upcoming Euro dates here), pared down to a trio and coming off the 2024 self-release Quintessence (review here) with the Heavy Psych Sounds-issued The Blacklight Sessions, they’re a band whose songs have carried them far and wide and who’ve never quite showcased their sound in the way they do here. Ferrier, with bassist Chris Sweeney (joined 2018) and drummer Johnny Kathman (joined 2023), present six tracks across a 41-minute span, and if you do the math on that and it tells you there are a couple longer songs involved, you’re right.
Foremost? “The Long Song,” which caps side A of the LP after the instrumental opener “The Whiskey Elf” and the subsequent ripper “Low Not Slow.” At 10:30, “The Long Song” is by my count the longest song Valley of the Sun have ever released, and it’s not like there’s a five-minute break in the middle; they use all the time they have to chug, roll, ebb and flow in a procession that’s more than a jam but still that might otherwise have been pared down in the rehearsal space and have verses and a chorus lyrics written to make the kind of sharp-edged, refined heavy shove one is used to hearing from the Cincinnati outfit. Knowing that it hasn’t been, and that that’s on purpose, is the key to understanding the entire album, and as Ferrier takes a groovy solo over the second half’s slowdown en route to the inevitable resurgence — one way or the other, they’re songwriters — the band’s intention is palpable.
But that’s kind of always been the case, right? Even to go back a decade and a half, did Ferrier ever not have a plan? Valley of the Sun knew what they were about from the start, and they haven’t wavered. And to be sure, The Blacklight Sessions sounds like Valley of the Sun. Ferrier‘s voice and the instrumental sense of expanse are recognizable, and the band’s ability to twist a riff is second to none. They continue to work with longtime producer John Naclerio, which is a partnership that’s proven crucial over the course of the band’s time. But “The Whiskey Elf” signals a shift, not only because it doesn’t have vocals but because of how the riff is shaped and what is happening melodically, the way it changes over the course of the four-plus minutes.
If Quintessence was shooting for capturing the heart of what makes them who they are, The Blacklight Sessions looks beyond this in terms of going deeper into their process and, it should be noted, presenting that to the listener in a way they never have before. Because I have no doubt that at some point in the rehearsal space, Valley of the Sun jam. Even a band whose material is so hammered out and structured, at some point unless they’re working remotely which I don’t think applies here, will have jammed on a riff in the rehearsal space, if only so Ferrier can teach it to Sweeney and Kathman.
But that’s never been the front-facing persona of the group, and “The Long Song,” without actually being a jam, carries the band-in-room spirit just the same, where even up to Quintessence, priority was band-on-stage energy. If this seems like a minute difference, or an overly heady framing for The Blacklight Sessions, there’s just about no way you can slice it in which Valley of the Sun aren’t a band doing something new on their sixth record, and that idea alone should be commendable enough to make the point.
The second half of The Blacklight Sessions works to expand on the first, with a quick reorientation on “A Greater Meaning” to a classic desert-riffed strut, very much of the type Valley of the Sun are most expert at — in their wheelhouse, as it were — but pointedly efficient in its not-quite-three-and-a-half-minute run. This sets up an arrival point for the closing pair of “Mountain”
(9:40) and closer “No Hope” (8:16) as the aforementioned other extended tracks, and as “Mountain” builds in both tension and volume across its two-minute initial, introductory stretch, the change in modus is conveyed as clearly as when the riff kicks in, the roll begins, and the idea that the song got its name from its own largesse becomes quickly inescapable.
It’s more than three minutes before the vocals come in to deliver lines over a stop, but the course is linear rather than verse/chorus, and that in itself is something different for Valley of the Sun. The slowdown six minutes in is a highlight, but mostly as part of the overarching progression of “Mountain,” which is fluid and wall-o’-fuzzed for the duration, letting “No Hope” finish the album by resetting before unfolding its own breadth, impactful both in melody and rhythm, following a pattern of drums that starts earlier and ultimately carries the song (and record) to its end. It’s not as huge-sounding as the song before and doesn’t want to be, but it’s an effective finish for The Blacklight Sessions in bringing a sense of letting go in a different way than they can usually be relied upon for. Which is to say, on an outing where they’re pushing their own limits, it does the same.
And about that: I don’t think there’s any way around casting Valley of the Sun among the most reliable of currently-active US-based heavy rockers. If they’re on the bill, you’re gonna have a good time, and their records have always been rock solid, front-to-back professional affairs. The same can be said of The Blacklight Sessions, but especially in the longer-form material, there’s a sense of loosening the reins a bit where usually the songs are pretty taut, and that comes across as intentional, as though the conscious choice was made to let these cuts be what they are instead of forcing them into a shape they may not wanted to have been suited to take.
In the end, this makes Valley of the Sun less predictable, which six records in with a reputation for quality is an asset in their favor and demonstrates the artistic growth that’s always underlied their noted process of refinement. Here, that becomes an essential part of the album’s character in a way it never has from Valley of the Sun before, and by tweaking their methodology in this manner, they expand their reach, going places they haven’t gone before with the sureness of the veteran unit that they have worked hard to become.
Valley of the Sun, The Blacklight Sessions (2026)
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