Fargo, North Dakota, instrumentalists El Supremo are set to issue their third full-length, the four-tracker Signor Morte Improvvisa, this Friday through Argonauta Records. For drummer Chad Heille (who founded the band as a one-man project some 16 years ago), guitarist Neal Stein, bassist Cameron Dewald and organist/keyboardist Chris Gould, it is the second long-player as a complete four-piece lineup behind early-2023’s Argonauta-released Acid Universe (review here) and 2019’s proof-of-concept debut, Clarity Through Distortion (review here), and their most fluid display of chemistry to-date, marked by excursions into dug-in heavy psychedelia, classically bluesy swing given melodic flourish by the Hammond on the comparatively brief second cut “Gravecraft,” light-touch sans-pretense progressivism expressed through Stein‘s guitar, and groove a-plenty to suit the palette of those seeking a chill without having to give of heft either of tone or presence. While the title, which translates from Italian as ‘Mr. Sudden Death,’ might lend English speakers some impression of being improvised, the proceedings across the 33-minute long-player are jam-based rather than solely jammed, and from the 10-minute opener “Breadwinner” — a bookend with the closing title-track around “Gravecraft” and the subsequent “Solitario” — onward, the vibe elicited feels purposeful in the flow conjured within and between the songs.

It’s a record you can easily get lost in, and I’m not sure you’d be wrong or running counter to El Supremo‘s intention to do so. True, “Breadwinner” builds up around a bit of crash and jabby, emphatic fuzz riffs, but the nod is quickly established in early going, and Signor Morte Improvvisa isn’t shy about basking in it. Stein‘s guitar and Gould‘s organ do some of the ‘talking’ in the sense of carrying the melody that might otherwise come from vocals, but not having to structure the material around lines of lyrics has clearly let the band have that much more flexibility to flesh out parts as they will.

This is something that “Breadwinner” lets the listener — newcomers to the band and returning parties alike — know early on as the intro unfolds organically into bluesy psych soloing before growing quieter and thereby plunging headfirst into its own vibe. Digging in, in other words. Exploratory in the guitar and keys, solidified by the rhythm beneath, it’s a familiar but welcome dynamic as the riff picks up at the midpoint, not so insistent as to be a sweep, but definitely encouraging an audience to come along, and very much in the spirit of a live show in that communication, despite the fullness of studio tone — that is, the production sound (Stein helmed Acid Universe; I’m not sure if he also produced here) is clear but not lacking in stage-style energy for that — that allows for a corresponding depth of mix.

The easy-going feel is maintained through a largely-consistent, rolling tempo that sticks through the ebbs and flows of “Breadwinner” until picking up with a push the finish when there’s about a minute left, and fair enough. That kick is a fitting lead-in for “Gravecraft,” which is almost purely about its own swing and Deep Purple-circa-’72 course; the most active El Supremo get in terms of bounce and maybe a little brash in relation to what surrounds, but not at all out of place for being either the shortest inclusion or the most straightforwardly structured.

A faster ending for “Breadwinner” helps the transition, sure, but the leap isn’t such a challenge to make into a more boogiefied range of blues, and as the eight-minute “Solitario” begins the second half of the tracklisting and serves as the presumed start of a vinyl’s side B, the mood shifts once again with Dewald‘s bass and Heille‘s ride cymbal slowly shaping a meditative outset that grows wistful with the entry of guitar and eventually organ, while holding fast to the patience of the build that’s subtly taking place. Fuzzy soloing intertwines with runs of organ lines, but while one might expect a surge to come, it simply doesn’t, and that feels like a conscious choice on the band’s part. The tradeoff is that “Solitario” comes about as close as El Supremo get to an improvised feel and is abidingly subdued for its duration. It’s never ‘sad’ in a performative way, but it’s easy to read an emotional crux into Stein‘s guitar or the come-forward organ line that rounds out, but that only makes the overarching impression stronger.

And when they get down to “Signor Morte Improvvisa,” it’s a get-down indeed. A swipe of what might be echo-laced harmonica weaves into the guitar-led intro, and when the drums arrive before the first minute is through, the forward movement is immediate. They’re not blowing it out, and they don’t, but “Signor Morte Improvvisa” is heavier and more plotted-feeling than “Solitario,” and that change in energy is palpable in its turns from quiet to loud and back again.

The harmonica stays as part of the march, and what turns out to be an essential part of the character of Signor Morte Improvvisa as a whole is unveiled after the four-minute mark as the guitar lead takes shape around a reference to Enrico Morricone‘s “The Ecstasy of Gold” (best known as the opening theme of Sergio Leone’s The Good, the Bad and the Ugly) around which the band vibes for a while before dropping to tom hits and sparser action and ultimately picking back up. Keyboard does the memorable vocal part starting at 6:30 to seal the deal, and that becomes the bed for a full-momentum crescendo that’s graceful and respectful of the source material on which it’s based but still allows El Supremo to make the moment their own in a way that feels like a payoff for the album on its own terms. That’s a hard balance to strike, which is something you would never know from the recording itself.

Once El Supremo lock in — and that happens early — they don’t let it go. This also gives Signor Morte Improvvisa a live-set feel, further bolstered by the title-track playing out as it does, and while decisively in the realm of the manageable at 33 minutes — which is not to say the record is short and imply it as a weakness when its brevity is very much the opposite thereof — it’s a set you’d be lucky to witness, and it reaffirms the persona of El Supremo as a band who very likely could offer a rigid showcase of technicality or staid prog rock, but are just too darn soulful to let that happen. I’m gonna call that a win, and it’s by no means their first in terms either of attitude or execution.

Signor Morte Improvvisa streams in its entirety below, followed by some background courtesy of the PR wire. The more you hear it, the more you’ll hear in it.

As always, I hope you enjoy:

El Supremo, Signor Morte Improvvisa (2024)

El Supremo was originally formed as a one-man project with Chad Heille playing all the instruments and handling recording/production. A self-titled full-length demo was released in 2008, with Tom Canning and Neal Stein contributing guitar solos to the recording.

Chad and Neal went on to play in the band EGYPT from 2012 to 2018. During that time, Egypt released three full-length records, a split LP, made numerous compilation appearances, reissued their first demo and toured 16 different countries playing several notable festivals.

After Egypt split, it was decided to revive the El Supremo name, whose sound today ranges from psychedelic and melodic to heavy and doomy. Influences are rooted in classic rock, stoner rock, blues, and old-school metal.

Tracklisting:
1. Breadwinner (10:43)
2. Gravecraft (3:51)
3. Solitario (8:25)
4. Signor Morte Improvvisa (10:51)

El Supremo are:
Chad Heille: drums
Neal Stein: guitar
Cameron Dewald: bass
Chris Gould: organ/keys

El Supremo on Facebook

El Supremo on Instagram

El Supremo on Bandcamp

Argonauta Records on Facebook

Argonauta Records on Instagram

Argonauta Records store

Tomorrow, July 19, marks the release of the third and reportedly final long-player from Nashville atmospheric heavy rockers The Swell Fellas, Residuum Unknown, and if you don’t think that otherwise very good news is delivered with a shot of bummerness as a result of their breakup, you probably will after listening.

A farewell release isn’t something every band gets to make. Most of the time, a band’s ‘final album’ isn’t billed that way when it’s coming out; it’s something that happens after the fact. The sense of culmination pervading Residuum Unknown is palpable through the seven-songer’s 45-minute stretch, which is marked by largesse beyond even what was harnessed on 2022’s Novaturia (review here); an expansive, heavy breadth that’s atmospheric in its churn the way gases on Jupiter seem to swirl and spin around each other, creating and unfurling massive, intense storms.

So too it goes with cuts like “Chore to Breathe” and “The Drain,” which follow album-intro “Unknown” and introduce the elements at play: airy, melodic vocals in a post-rock vein, almost Radioheaded at times, a density of low end from departing bassist Mark Rohrer that becomes a signature across the span, and intermittent bursts of intensity that offer no less crush for their refinement. As the last The Swell Fellas LP, Residuum Unknown is likewise urgent and methodical, and its songs create a sense of mood that draws the work together as a single, front-to-back experience.

Explorations of guitar in effects and riffs from Conner Poole and complementary tom runs from drummer Chris Poole fill out the spaces and sharpen in tone alongside Rohrer‘s bass as “The Drain” gets underway, a fuzz riff cutting through the aural mist and reverb-drenched voice, crashing, volatile, but not without purpose and not haphazard. As the record plays out, the human presence waxes and wanes but never departs, and though “The Drain” starts furious, its midsection break offers a comedown against which to set all the bombast. They build it back up, of course, with a buzzsaw guitar solo topping and smoothing the transition, but the impact and teased come-apart are a preface for what side B will bring in the closing duo of “Give Roses” and “Next Dawn,” both of which top eight minutes and, in succession, give Residuum Unknown its most brazenly chaotic moments.

The longest song on the record, however, is sorta-centerpiece “Pawns Parade” (8:59), which emphasizes the immersion that’s been happening all the while and moves with deceptive smoothness through multi-layer early verses en route to a takeoff after three and a half minutes; a duly resonant surge, still deep in mix and vibrant in heft. Angular guitar lines run in cycles with the drums — one suspects the Poole brothers could do that kind of thing all day — but the forward motion isn’t lost as the next verse begins and carries toward the utter consumption that marks the second half of the song, in the aftermath of which they offer a quiet epilogue of far-off, fading vocals.

If that’s where a vinyl side would split, fair enough. It feels all the more like a clear division with the acoustic guitar at the outset of “Gateway Grand” ahead of the aforementioned concluding pair “Give Roses” and “Next Dawn,” and the folkish strum comes with progressive-style drone and percussive thud, the melody layered and working toward its full realization over the course of its four and a half minutes, never quite departing the guitar-and-voice foundation that was likely how it was originally written, but expounded upon in ways that give a sense of how crucial ambience is to what The Swell Fellas are doing here.

Ringing bells — either manipulated or synthesized, I don’t know — give over to the bassy start of “Give Roses,” and a float of guitar tops the procession with surprisingly gentle twists, intricate in their tone and detail as they wrap around the verse lines, obscure but evocative. They’re shortly past the midpoint when at 4:30 the song stops short and unleashes another stage of willful cacophony, becoming a genuine onslaught for the remainder that’s not barbaric or lacking in thought behind it, but is a level of furiousness not shown before. By the time they push, roll and flatten their way through the rest of “Give Roses,” it’s difficult to imagine both the acoustic “Gateway Grand” that took place only a few minutes earlier and their being able to effectively follow “Give Roses” with anything else, but the fact is that “Next Dawn” picks up from the deconstruction at the end of the song prior and maintains that stupefying force for most of its own stretch.

The Swell Fellas are too dynamic in their craft to do one thing for eight and a half minutes, but “Next Dawn” is underscored with a doom that ripples no matter how loud a given part might be early on, and so is able to bring together the atmospheric ideals and noisy pulse that have pervaded throughout Residuum Unknown; a whole-song crescendo serving both its own needs and that of the record in its entirety. And when they find themselves shortly before the seven-minute mark, the three-piece shift over to an angular riff that reminds of nothing so much as early Mastodon echoing off canyon walls, cutting and bleeding in nod and drawl as they make their way to the end, inevitable. The vocals are last to go in a relatively quick dissipation, and even the silence after the song is finished feels heavier for what The Swell Fellas undertook in that apex charge.

I will not claim to know the future or to say that the Pooles and Rohrer might not change their minds and decide to keep being a band or move forward in some other way. But if Residuum Unknown is in fact their last outing in whatever form, it portrays a band with still more to offer, more to say than has been said. It deserves more than to be a footnote in the career arc of a band who didn’t stick around long enough to even potentially get their due, to be sure. It is otherworldly in character and yet able to slam into your eardrum with terrestrial magnitude.

Residuum Unknown streams in its entirety below. I don’t take lightly the opportunity to stream what’s ostensibly the last thing The Swell Fellas will do, and I thank the band for the chance to host the record. As always, I hope you enjoy.

PR wire info follows:

The Swell Fellas, Residuum Unknown (2024)

Hailing from their hometown of Ocean City, Maryland, and now residing in Nashville, TN, The Swell Fellas took lessons from their early days of improvising extensive riff heavy jams, and formed a dark, refreshing sound that will have you riding a wave of intense meditation into soaring musical crescendos. In 2020, the band released The Big Grand Entrance in January, three song EP The Great Play of Extension in April, and single Death Race in August. After an intensive early 2022 tour schedule supporting All Them Witches, The Swell Fellas released their latest studio effort, Novaturia, on June 17th, 2022.

This power trio is made up of a pair of brothers, Conner and Chris Poole (guitar and drums respectively) with their longtime friend, Mark Rohrer, a guitarist who they begged to buy bass gear. Growing out of their backyard home studio in MD, the band is pushed forward by Rohrer’s brand of heavy ethereal sound baths on bass, wailing lead guitar with dynamic instrumental effects, and an underscore of wonderfully technical drumming. And with so, the trio have distilled their personal chemistry into something greater than the sum of its parts. With larger than life lyrics inspired by the ebbs and flows of their personal lives, the band remains surprisingly grounded for a group who are so prone to exploration.

Nashville heavy psych trio The Swell Fellas release their third and final album Residuum Unknown late July 2024. Encompassing everything the band has to offer on one incredibly written album will leave fans in awe.

The trio have toured with giants in the industry such as All Them Witches and King Buffalo and built up quite a following in the last 4-5 years. Long time friend and Bassist Mark Rohrer unfortunately had to part ways leaving brothers Chris and Connor Poole a tough decision to end the band. However, not without a proper send off by releasing their best album to date.

The Swell Fellas were:
Conner Poole // Guitar and Vocals
Chris Poole // Drums and Vocals
Mark Rohrer // Bass and Vocals

The Swell Fellas, “The Drain” official video

The Swell Fellas website

The Swell Fellas on Facebook

The Swell Fellas on Instagram

The Swell Fellas on Bandcamp

San Diego classic heavy rockers Sacri Monti are set to release their third album, Retrieval, on July 26 through Tee Pee Records. And as much as the 37-minute six-tracker merrily bends time to its whims in terms of the melding of heavy ’70s progressivism and modern expanse, it has still been five real years since the five-piece’s last studio full-length, 2019’s Waiting Room for the Magic Hour (review here), though they did in 2023 issue live at Sonic Whip MMXII (review here), capturing their performance at the Dutch heavyfest of the same name and introducing listeners to new songs “Desirable Sequel” — a phrase one might use to describe Retrieval itself — and “Intermediate Death.” Following the opener “Maelstrom,” those two appear in succession on the new record, as part of an included trilogy of counterintuitive adjectives and nouns that also encompasses the vinyl’s side B opener, “Brackish Honeycomb,” before the interlude “Moon Canyon” and nine-minute closer “More Than I” (premiering below) complete the proceedings with some of Sacri Monti‘s most ambitious and richest sounds to-date.

Like its predecessor, Retrieval flows smoothly and is unrepentantly speaking to vintage ideas in the organ work of Evan Wenskay and the shuffling riffcraft of Dylan Donovan and Brenden Dellar (also vocals), given solid form and push by Anthony Meier‘s bass and Thomas DiBenedetto‘s drumming. But as they lean toward a more modern recording sound, the sprawl of their melodies has never sounded quite so realized, and in the pairing of shorter and longer cuts throughout, they find a way to balance a kind of rhythmic restlessness next to more patient, flowing ideas. This is the up-front message sent as “Maestrom” — which feels like it was born to open a live set — builds to a synth-laced tension of chug and Dellar begins a first verse after two of its three minutes have passed, and “Desirable Sequel” unfurls from there, setting out with quiet guitar meander and establishing a melancholy vocal narrative. It might be considered of a kind on some levels with “Slipping From the Day,” which appeared on the band’s self-titled debut (review here) in 2015, but the comparison only emphasizes the growth the years since have wrought in their sound, likewise affirmed by the clarity with which “Intermediate Death” spins out its initial intensity only to drop to standalone organ and lands in the plague-era malaise of the verse, marked by the lines repeated later, “Running through this world on empty/Tryin’ to do the best I can.”

Since their inception, Sacri Monti have had the ability to splinter off in one movement or another, the guitars and organ taking melodic flight while Meier and DiBenedetto provide crucial ground beneath, only to come together around a verse, chorus, whatever it might be. “Intermediate Death” is more straightforward in terms of structure, ultimately, but still holds this spirit as the lush hook unfolds, all the more conveying its emotional crux with the five members of the band heading to the same place at the same time.

“Brackish Honeycomb” follows with Thin Lizzy-style guitar (and organ) leads and classic prog jabs, but its eight-minute course is a precursor for “More Than I” to come in its sweep, and as they move through the second half of the song, the drums, bass, organ and guitars, in succession, take a moment to shine with jammy breadth before turning back to see how far they’ve come via more lockstep lead guitar. This is Sacri Monti at their best — vibrant, writing for the ‘magic hour’ they’ll spend playing on a stage, making the most of the chemistry and instrumental conversation happening — and they arrive at that moment organically, as “Brackish Honeycomb” proceeds, giving it due and purposeful culmination before departing to the acoustic, lap steel, and Mellotron-ish sounds of the sub-three-minute, duly echoing “Moon Canyon.”

And part of the reason “Moon Canyon” lands where it does on the record is likely to give space between “Brackish Honeycomb” and “More Than I,” which are Retrieval‘s two longest and farthest reaching tracks, but the atmospheric reset also informs the context in which the closer sets forth. It is progressive enough in its mood to remind of Astra, and patient in the verse without being staid as the band build toward the short guitar solo after the three-minute mark, then double-back to the song’s intro and set out again, only to wind up in a more subdued instrumental stretch, not quite a jam, but a go-with-it kind of groove that opens to lush keyboard melody and a build that carries them to Dellar‘s subtly Sabbathian “whoa-oh yeah,” and off to double-guitar soar from there. The serenity of that moment doesn’t last — Sacri Monti aren’t hanging out anywhere for too long — as there’s one more build into the finish, but it’s acoustic guitar that closes, and the prevailing sentiment complements the melancholia throughout, without letting go of the live energy that’s obviously so crucial to the character of the band.

In that way, as well as in the complexity of its songwriting, the thoughtfulness of its melodies and the care put into its arrangements, Retrieval feels like a definitive work on Sacri Monti‘s part. At the show — whichever show; they play plenty of them — it’s the kind of thing they could do live in its entirety and represent their stylistic scope, and by the time “More Than I” finished, it’s easy to imagine a line at the merch table to grab LPs. Can’t argue. However long it may or may not have been in the making, Retrieval comes across like a culmination, and front to back, it brings the listener with it on a course that is dynamic and not untroubled, but nonetheless able to swing through whatever comes. There’s a lesson in there for the listener, to be sure.

“More Than I” premieres on the player below. I advise a deep breath before you dive in, and thank you for reading.

PR wire info, including European Please enjoy:

In recent years, Sacri Monti has transcended sonic expectations to create a singular sound so unique that their name has become synonymous with invention.

Signed to Tee Pee Records, this July the SoCal five-piece are back to show once again why they are one of the label’s leading progressive lights with the release of their third studio album, Retrieval.

Formed in Oceanside in 2012 the band has ridden the crest of an enduring wave of unmissable heavy psych bands that have emerged from the San Diego area. So much so that in 2018, Roadburn Festival invited them to take part in a ‘San Diego Takeover’, which found the band showcasing their inimitable sound alongside peers such as Arctic, Harsh Toke, Joy, and a handful of others.

Fans will also be pleased to hear that this summer Sacri Monti embark on a European tour in support of the album, dates, and details of which can be found below.

There’s no question that Sacri Monti has upped their game on Retrieval. Due for release on 26th July 2024 via Tee Pee Records we highly advise you to do the same. Pre-order the album here: https://hypeddit.com/sacrimonti/maelstrom

European Tour Dates

1/8 – Blah Blah – Turin, Italy
2/8 – Pietra Sonica Fest – Osoppo Udine, Italy
3/8 – Palp Festival – Couvert du Goly. Switzerland
5/8 – Stone Smoker – Louny, Czech Republic
6/8 – Channel Zero – Ljubljana, Slovenia
9/8 – Sonic Blast Festival – Moledo, Portugal
10/8 – Hoflarm Open Air – Seelbach, Germany
11/8 – Urban Spree – Berlin, Germany
14/8 – dB’s – Utrecht, Netherlands
15/8 – Merlyn – Nijmegen, Netherlands
17/8 – Volcano Sessions – Montpeloux, France
18/8 – Secret Place – Montpellier, France
21/8 – Le Cirque Electrique – Paris, France
22/8 – The Black Heart – London, UK
23/8 – 1865 – Southampton, UK
24/8 – Kazimier Stockroom – Liverpool, UK
25/8 – Cosmic Vibration Fest – Sheffield, UK

Track Listing

1. Maelstrom
2. Desirable Sequel
3. Intermediate Death
4. Brackish/Honeycomb
5. Moon Canyon
6. More Than I

Sacri Monti is:
Brenden Dellar -Guitar
Dylan Donovan- Guitar
Anthony Meier- Bass
Evan Wenskay- Organ, Synth
Thomas Dibenedetto- Drums

Sacri Monti on Facebook

Sacri Monti on Instagram

Sacri Monti BigCartel store

Sacri Monti on Soundcloud

Tee Pee Records website

Tee Pee Records on Facebook

Tee Pee Records on Instagram

Tee Pee Records on Bandcamp

This Friday, UK longform doomers Old Horn Tooth will release their second album, Mourning Light, via Evil Noise Recordings (tape) and their own London Doom Collective imprint. Prefaced by the 2021 standalone 21-minute-long single, “True Death” (review here), the four-song/68-minute sophomore outing gazes unflinchingly into the void of its own construction — a dark, densely humid weight of tone and purpose likewise realized in terms of the fervency of its riff worship and its downerism — and follows 2019’s debut, From the Ghost Grey Depths, with a strong, plodding and declarative step forward. Through “Precipice,” “No Salvation,” “Mourning Light” and “Invisible Agony,” the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Chris Jones, bassist Ollie Isaac and drummer Mark Davidson (also credited with “griefcase,” which I’m going to assume is a laptop or some other kind of synthesizer apparatus) present themselves as monolithic but not monotonous and extreme in their approach but not without melodic accessibility or emotional resonance. That is to say, yeah, it’s a slog, but it’s very much the slog they intended it to be.

At nearly 17 minutes long, “Precipice” begins with a whole-album ambient intro before giving over to its first distorted rumblings and the march counted slowly in by Davidson‘s ride cymbal. The immediate touchstone in terms of modus is Monolord, but Old Horn Tooth carve their own niche in mountainous sounds as Jones‘ vocals echo in the mix’s deceptively broad space with a sense of longing that calls Warning to mind, and that continues to serve as a defining aspect of what they do as one verse gives way to the next, the trio departs to a more meditative instrumental stretch anchored around Isaac‘s bassline and lumber toward and through a suitable crescendo, fading to silence before the comparatively immediate impact of “No Salvation” arrives, quickly nestling into a grueling and punctuated roll topped with mournful lead guitar as preface for the condemnation narrative of the lyrics. By the time a few more minutes have passed, they’ve gone even further in this grim and consuming plunge, and as “No Salvation” nears its midpoint, the wash of distortion recedes and the drums momentarily depart, leaving a clean line of morose ambience soon given tension through kickdrum lubdubs.

It’s less a build than a setup for a burst, but whatever gets you there. At 9:22 into its total 14:38, “No Salvation” blows its own top (again) and renews the roll. Vocals come and go again in the unmired-but-engrossing nod, which culminates pretty much when they decide to let it come apart, having already given the repetition its due. The title-track follows, with a similar runtime and a smooth shift from its first-minute intro to the melancholic riff that earns the record’s title. “Mourning Light” holds the emotive crux for the album, and doubles as the catchiest of the four inclusions, with room for organ in its mix but an orthodox approach that keeps to some notion of being straight-ahead in its guitar-bass-drums-vocals arrangement despite the fact that nothing on Mourning Light is under 14 minutes long. Maybe it would’ve been too much, since part of what makes “Mourning Light” so effective is how it feels tied to classic and modern doom as Old Horn Tooth mold their niche within the genre. As if to say, “Nothin’ too fancy here, folks. Just some e’eryday dudes bangin’ out lengthy slabs o’ massive riffery.” Likewise humble and flattening.

“Mourning Light” ends quiet on guitar and so the drummed start of 21-minute closer “Invisible Agony” feel duly stark in their setting out before the guitar joins. As they have all along, the band bring a sense of patience to the finale — fairly sure if they weren’t willing to take their time, this music wouldn’t exist at all; the name of the game is ‘gradual’ — but when the bass starts rumbling the threat is clear. Right as they hit the six-minute mark, long after the hypnotic effect has been achieved, the lurch takes its full-toned form, still based around the flowing progression of the drums, but given heft through a semi-drone of low end and the self-assured course led by Jones‘ guitar. The verse starts eight minutes in and becomes part of that same movement, which pushes into a depressive swirl in a bleakly semi-psychedelic conclusion. It’s someplace they haven’t gone yet, so fair enough, but as with the launch of “Precipice,” the ending of “Invisible Agony” feels applied to the entire 2LP as much as to itself. And like much of what precedes it, it is vibrant in its misery without tipping over into actual melodrama or goofy posturing, finding a balance along its own deeply immersive wavelength.

Mourning Light streams in its entirety below, followed by more from the PR wire. Please enjoy:

Last heard slinging low slung fuzzed-out doom on their 2019 album, From the Ghost Grey Depths, this July will see the official worldwide release of Mourning Light, the brand-new studio album from London-based trio, Old Horn Tooth.

For any fans of the genre that have stalked the capital in recent years, chances are London Doom Collective has supplied you with ample opportunity to sample some of the finest underground bands in a live setting. Since 2020 – Ollie, Chris Jones, Mark Davidson, and Sean Durbin – have flexed their DIY muscle as friends, promoters, and three-quarter members of Old Horn Tooth to devastating effect. Now, with the band’s new album on the horizon, they finally turn their hand toward a new endeavour, releasing music on vinyl.

“Putting out a record ourselves through London Doom Collective is our own personal statement of independence,” explains bassist, Ollie Isaac. “It’s a testament to the power of the underground and a direct connection with the scene, people and international doom community that has supported, guided and helped us grow.”

Due for release on 5th July 2024, Mourning Light can be pre-ordered via London Doom Collective here: https://oldhorntooth.bandcamp.com/

The album will also be accompanied by the release of a limited-edition tape from Norway’s Evil Noise Recordings here: https://evilnoiserecordings.bigcartel.com/

And an exclusive beer in collaboration with Black Iris Brewery here: https://blackirisbottleshop.co.uk/

Live Dates
24th August – Cambridge (w/The Grey)
25th August – Cosmic Vibration Fest, Sheffield
28th September – Riffolution Fest, Manchester
16th November – Tonehenge, Kent

Track Listing
1. Precipice (16:55)
2. No Salvation (14:38)
3. Mourning Light (14:42)
4. Invisible Agony (21:52)

Old Horn Tooth:
Chris Jones – Guitars, Vocals
Mark Davidson – Drums, Griefcase.
Ollie Isaac – Bass

Old Horn Tooth on Facebook

Old Horn Tooth on Instagram

Old Horn Tooth on Bandcamp

London Doom Collective on Facebook

London Doom Collective on Instagram

London Doom Collective on Bandcamp

Evil Noise Recordings on Facebook

Evil Noise Recordings on Instagram

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If it seems a little odd that Connecticut stonerolling trio Curse the Son would lead off the promotional cycle for their upcoming fifth LP — titled Delirium and due out Sept. 6 as their third LP for Ripple Music, announced as of… wait for it… rightnow! — with a cover tune, that’s the point. Following on from the relatively expansive mindset that 2020’s Excruciation (review here) wrought, Delirium brings both a new lineup around founding guitarist/vocalist Ron Vanacore — bassist Dan Weeden, (perhaps a relative of bass alum Richard “Cheech” Weeden?), takes up the low end while on-album drummer Brian Harris has already been replaced by Vanacore‘s teenaged son, Logan Vanacore, who nails it in live videos and clearly keeps his father on his toes in terms of tempo — and a redirection of purpose that comes through clearly in their take on Witchfinder General‘s doomly classic “R.I.P.”

The song is the medium, the medium is the message, and the message is that the band have stripped back a lot of the flourish as regards production, melody and darkness of mood as manifest on Excruciation in favor of a more direct tonality, unbridled Sabbath worship — that comes through in the rhythmic stop-and-turn of “R.I.P.,” and also the rest of it — and a focus on the root principles of dense tones and weighted roll heralded by their earlier work. Doesn’t mean they forgot the lessons of Excruciation, but if you see the cover below and are somewhat reminded of 2012’s Psychache (review here, interview here, vinyl review here, reissue featured here, also discussed here), with the creepy clown vibes in keeping with their black-and-white visual aesthetic, I don’t think that’s a coincidence either.

The video for “R.I.P.” premieres below, following the announcement and info for Delirium, which I’ll just tell you flat out rules. There. Sorry if you didn’t want the spoiler.

From the PR wire:

Curse the Son – Delirium

Curse the Son have endured the tests of time. Lineup shifts, traumatic personal losses and a global pandemic have found the band in a vastly different world. A dark world. A world that doesn’t feel very stable. Lyrically and conceptually, “Delirium” finds Curse the Son exploring and re-experiencing the fear, isolation, confusion and death from a time not so long ago. A slow descent into madness as we self medicated, forced others away and suffered from the greatest losses of all…..each other. Psychologically, the devastating emotional damage inflicted upon us and our children will never fully be understood. Drenched in these drowning vibes, “Delirium” was created.

Musically and sonically “Delirium” has the fuzzed out gloomy electricity of “Psychache”, with a knowing glance towards the advanced songwriting structures found on “Isolator”. Following 2020’s more experimental “Excruciation” album, Curse the Son decided to make “Delirium” a return to more familiar territories. Elements of all eras of the band are evident here on this release. Crushing doomed out numbers like “Liste Of The Dead” and “This Suffering Is Ours” state their case with mind numbing heaviness. In contrast, the more uptempo and challenging “Deliberate Cruelty” and “Delirium” offer more dynamic and complex themes. A cover version of “R.I.P.” by Witchfinder General finds its way into the grooves of “Delirium” as well!  As long time fans of Witchfinder General, it was an honor to pay homage to one of the greatest and underrated stoner/doom originators!

Once again the band teamed up with Eric Lichter and Dirt Floor Recording to record “Delirium”. This longtime partnership has proven very  successful and fulfilling over the years starting with the recording of “Isolator” in 2016. Curse the Son is extremely proud to once again be working with Ripple Music for the worldwide release or “Delirium” on September 6, 2024.

Tracklist:
1. The Suffering is Ours
2. Deliberate Cruelty
3. R.I.P.
4. Riff Forest
5. In Dismal Space
6. Brain Paint
7. Delirium
8. May Cause Drowsiness
9. Liste of the Dead

“Delirium” was written and recorded in the many months of 2022-2023. This time the band returned to Dirt Floor with a sense of rejuvenation, rebirth, and a deeper connection to the material being performed. Dan Weeden joined the band on bass in 2022. Dan has been a friend and writing partner of Ron’s since the early 1990s. Shortly after the recording of “Delirium”, drummer Brian Harris amicably parted ways with the band. Shortly after, Ron’s son Logan Vanacore took over as the drummer for the band. At 14 years old, Logan is a widely recognized drumming phenom and he and Dan play vital roles as Curse the Son’s concussive rhythm section. “Delirium” will be released by Ripple Music in September, 2024.

Current line-up:
Ron Vanacore (guitar, vox)
Dan Weeden (bass)
Logan Vanacore* (drums)

*Drums on “Delirium” performed by Brian Harris

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Curse the Son, “R.I.P.” (Witchfinder General cover) official video

[Click play above to stream Shadow Witch’s Eschaton (The End of All Things) in its entirety. Album is out Friday on Argonauta Records and the band play their release show at Maryland Doom Fest 2024 this weekend.]

All things end, and Shadow Witch‘s songwriting is suited to endtimes, with a gospel feel and theme amid the doom rock groove and an intermittent metallic severity. Eschaton (The End of All Things) is the fourth full-length from the Kingston, New York-based four-piece fronted by Earl Walker Lundy with Jeremy Hall (since replaced by Jesse Cunningham) on guitar/keys, bassist David Pannullo and drummer Justin Zipperle (also piano/Hammond) making his first recorded appearance since coming aboard following the tracking of 2020’s Under the Shadow of a Witch (review here), which until now was their most realized outing to-date. Clocking in at an easily manageable 36 minutes, the eight self-recorded pieces of Eschaton (The End of All Things) ask little — not nothing — in terms of indulgence and reward the listener in the diversity of their approach, starting with the quick 80-second motor-riff of “Speedy Goes to Sludgetown” that is deceptively complex as it builds to the finish with synth and vocals worked in around the centralized forward push. It’s not nearly as atmospheric as “Dominu Sanctus Oblivion,” which leads off side B with its hard-hitting cycles of drumming and layered vocal chanting, references to The Exorcist on guitar and so forth, but that song is six minutes long and it probably wouldn’t work as an album intro. No time to waste. Shadow Witch have places to be and the songs to get them there.

Eschaton (The End of All Things) of course begs the question whether the ending being discussed in its title is that of the band itself. Best I can do in terms of an answer after listening is: “maybe?” One never knows generally and I won’t make any definite predictions, but between the departure of Hall, the plague that happened between the third album’s recording/release and this one, and the creative progression undertaken since Lundy, Hall and Pannullo set forth in 2016 with their debut, Sun Killer (discussed here), if this was to be the final Shadow Witch release, they certainly don’t owe anyone anything, and they sound like they’ve put everything they have into this record. From “Speedy Goes to Sludgetown” into the melancholic starts and stops of “Satellites” touching later on Southern rock as it brings acoustic and electric guitars together with keys and the first of several standout performances from Lundy, whose lyrics recast manmade spacetrash as falling angels and/or stars, namedropping a burning bush and serpent along the way to emphasize the being-raised-baptist-is-a-trauma religious undertones that have been a part of Shadow Witch all along but that also find a fresh point of view throughout Eschaton (The End of All Things). A melodic soulful dig in “Tell Me,” which follows, is burly but almost desert rocking in its tone, shifting from the sweeping crescendo of “Satellites” with organ and backing vocals to a more rigid stomp that grows fervent in its later gallop without any real threat of derailment to the momentum the band have already built.

The subsequent “Nobody” leans into insistent punk-metal with a hook that reminds me (and this is a ‘me’ thing rather than a likely influence) of Midwestern pushers Bloodcow as Lundy takes on the voice of some of masculinity’s more toxic gaslighting in the unfortunately-not-post-Trump era: “Nobody knows more about you than me/Nobody does more for you than me… I’m the man/And you all must do as I command,” and so on. Discussions of power and the abuse thereof aren’t necessarily new for Shadow Witch — the third album had “Wolf Among the Sheep,” and a cut like “Cruel” from 2017’s Disciples of the Crow (review here) saw its subject through a social justice lens — but the craft on Eschaton (The End of All Things), the subtle turns in the instrumental arrangements and the heart poured into the belted-out delivery of the vocals over top, frame the conversation and exploration of ideas in an accessible, heavy rock and roll that has never been both so broad in reach or so outwardly sure of its path.

Recorded on their own, as noted above, with a mix and master by Paul Orofino, the material feels divergent but is structurally sound and aware of its audience, with “Nobody” giving over to the big-nodding side A finale “Let it Out” giving willful contrast to “Tell Me” earlier — directly: the repeated line of the backing vocals is “Don’t tell me…” which Lundy answers in call and response — in a tight three-and-a-half-minute course, moderately placed like if KISS had ever given a damn what their songs were actually about. They’ve got some according swagger there, but Shadow Witch have never been just darkness stylistically. In terms of aesthetic, there’s as much light as black under their blacklights.

With a hook that’s downright vibrant and swing to spare, “Let it Out” is for sure present-tense in its frustrations, and it ends with Zipperle‘s drums on a fade before giving over to the immediate riff introducing “Dominu Sanctus Oblivion,” which is based around a chorus that becomes a kind of thanatos/destruction-worshiping chant and a lead-in for the apocalyptic narrative fleshed out across “The Lion and the Lamb” and closer “The Fallen.” The last three cuts, all over six minutes long (nothing on side A touched five), retain the intentionality of, say, “Satellites” and “Tell Me,” but are focused on a distinct procession. “Dominu Sanctus Oblivion,” then, is both the moment where that turn happens and the beginning of the story perceived, told in fire-and-brimstone preach and sharp streaks of guitar soloing, a manifestation of the Judgment Day being referenced in the album’s title. They still make it move and have a quieter break in the second half to offset the song’s cyclical pattern before they restart for one more hypnotic, willfully grandiose time through, finishing riffier and edgier before the cold stop brings standalone guitar at the start of “The Lion and the Lamb.” Marked by its inclusion of organ and evocative lead guitar, the penultimate cut on Eschaton (The End of All Things) is both a lead-in for “The Fallen” and a landmark in itself for the band, reminiscent of some of Dio-era Black Sabbath‘s more sprawling fare, whether that’s “Heaven and Hell” or “Falling Off the Edge of the World,” neither of which it’s actively emulating.

A synthy wash of noise eases the transition to the urgent opening build of “The Fallen,” and if there is some autobiographical aspect to Eschaton (The End of All Things) — that is, if part of what’s ending is the band itself — no one will be able to say they didn’t go out on top. A career performance from Lundy around a get-in-punk-we’re-taking-Heaven lyric and the corresponding manner in which the song unfolds instrumentally is stately in a way that both accounts for “The Lion and the Lamb” and the detail and arrangement flourish Shadow Witch have basked in throughout. But the closer is singular in its character and caps with a vision of doom that is bluesy, classic, gospel-informed and progressive without pushing so far as to lose the plot of which it is still only one piece set forth in the two songs prior, culminating with layered vocals and organ in complement to the final lines as the song resolves: “Fold your wings around me/We’re going home.” Those wings are leather, and “home” is a march of the fallen on capital-‘p’ Paradise, but the emotion behind the delivery is sincere and palpable, and as Shadow Witch do on their fourth album front-to-back, they depart with the sense of purpose that Eschaton (The End of All Things) has so roundly highlighted. Like I said at the start, all things end. Not all things are fortunate enough to do so with such resonance. I don’t know that this will be the last Shadow Witch record or not — and for what it’s worth, I hope not — but what they bring to fruition in these songs should be considered nothing less than a definitive work today, and today is what matters.

Shadow Witch, “The Lion and the Lamb” official video

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Ruben Romano will release The Imaginary Soundtrack to the Imaginary Western Twenty Graves Per Mile (review here) — which, rest assured, actually exists despite all the imagination — through Desert Records on Aug. 9. It is the first solo outing for Romano, also known for fronting The Freeks on vocals and guitar and whose pedigree includes having drummed in the initial incarnations of both Fu Manchu and Nebula, and might at first seem like a striking stylistic turn as Romano taps into Western atmospheres and ramble, wagons loaded and headed out Californey way across 10 homecooked tracks of unfolding landscapes.

Romano tells the story of the record himself below, and I don’t want to keep you from that, but as you dig into the premiere of “Not Any More” below — and the album was self-released in February, so it was out there, though it’s been taken down from Bandcamp now; I have no idea about Spotify and the rest, it could be streaming all over the place and honestly, if it is, fine — don’t go into it thinking “rock record,” because that’s not what’s happening here. Nuanced percussion around subdued acoustic guitar arrangements, some slide here and there; the priority isn’t necessarily all-volume-all-the-time, and it wouldn’t really work as a ‘soundtrack,’ imaginary or otherwise, if it were. You can hear the casual roots in the strum of “Controversy Follows” or “Chuck Wagon Sorrow,” but the songs are fleshed out well in terms of arrangement, and though it’s positioned as instrumental, you’ll hear some watery whispers in amid the Morricone stretches and snippets of country-tinged meander, given just an edge of weirdo-psych through effects and an exploratory sense in the making as much as the material.

That is, The Imaginary Soundtrack to the Imaginary Western Twenty Graves Per Mile — you might be forgiven for just calling it Twenty Graves Per Mile — is Romano‘s first public foray into the style, and comes through as somewhat experimental as a result, but there’s nothing tentative about it as the rhythm of “The Trail is Long” evokes the hooves walking that same trail or the penultimate “Jump Off Town (From Everywhere)” hints at an almost post-rock float brought to the proceedings that, if there’s a next time, might be something to listen for in terms of the project’s development. I won’t speculate on that, but one way or the other, Romano‘s dive is headfirst throughout what’s still only a 27-minute LP, utterly manageable even for the most modern of attention spans and at no risk of overstaying its welcome.

You’ll find “Not Any More” on the player below, followed by some background on putting it all together from Romano himself, the preorder link, and so on.

Please enjoy:

Ruben Romano on Twenty Graves Per Mile:

I actually never set out to do this project, by that I mean, it was not preconceived, not yet anyway. What happened first was that I came to realize that I had acquired enough musical gear to satisfy all points needed to complete an ensemble. The urge is great, I know, but why did I need to buy another guitar or amplifier when I have several of every variety already. So I switched my collecting tendencies towards recording gear. I’m a…“Let’s see what happens..” kind of person.

I enjoy sitting on my porch with an acoustic guitar, noodling, jumping from this major chord to that minor chord, adding a 7th and a 9th, or maybe sus it. I have always enjoyed playing with sounds, if something makes a sound I’m in, I’ll tinker until I figure something out. This leaves me wide open to whatever. I may be lumped into a certain genre that creates expectations but I can’t really be so loyal to just one type of music when it’s just too vast to not enjoy everything that’s out there. So, it’s to figure out some sounds, put some chords together and let’s see what happens…. I love doing things like this and it’s the same approach I used for “Twenty Graves Per Mile” as I do for my main rock band The Freeks. All of this leads me to enjoy late nights in the garage, now with the ability to record the idea, and further expand it. I sacrifice sleep as I can’t really stop once I get started, and I’m ok with that. A lot, if not all, of these songs were constructed this way but really it’s thanks to Les Paul for inventing multitrack recording.

I live in a Condominium with my wife and daughter and also two cats. I’m smack dab in the middle of the building with neighbors on both sides and also above, so volume is an issue. Acoustic guitar and a really sensitive condenser mic are my main tools. I also did a lot of direct line-in recording when it came to adding electric instruments here at my home. I’m ok with this because at the same time I’m still learning my recording process, instrument modeling is a part of that. When I have something going and it’s ready for even more, I also have a full mobile recording unit that The Freeks use at our rehearsal room. So I am able to record acoustic drums as well as loud guitar amplifiers, my latest gem is a new Fender Vibro Champ Reverb amp.

Reverb and Vibrato have always been my favorite tones, Chorus is my least favorite. So I bounce from one studio to the other, transferring and importing tracks as I go along. I have already been tracking these songs with no intentions for them, just doing what I like to do, it’s a hobby. So when Covid hit me, an opportunity kind of fell into place. As I quarantined at home, I fell into a TV binge, watching different series about our Great Frontiers Men, Westward Expansion and The Oregon Trail. It all just blended in my head. They expanded west, I expanded my ideas and I got reverb to prove it. I just kept recording little tunes more and more, and my computer filled up very quickly. I began transferring them to external drives to create space for even more to come.

So I started to sift through them and I started finding songs that I totally forgot about. Late nights in that garage produced some fun and even silly things as well as some rather deep things. For example, the song “The Trail Is Long ” must have happened really late with a fine smoke, some good bourbon and a sad memory. I totally forgot about it and now it’s probably my favorite song on the record. However, all the songs have a place in my heart, of course, there is a joy in taking a little acoustic guitar lick conceived on the porch that eventually becomes a completed song like “Sweet Dreams Cowboy”. There is a great sense of pride in that.

The Imaginary Soundtrack To The Imaginary Western “Twenty Graves Per Mile”
Releases on August 9th, 2024
Desert Records
CD, Cassette Tape, Digital Download

Bandcamp:
https://rubenaromano.bandcamp.com/album/the-imaginary-soundtrack-to-the-imaginary-western-twenty-graves-per-mile-2

Tracklist
1. Load the Wagon
2. About to Bloom
3. Sweet Dreams Cowboy
4. Chuck Wagon Sorrow
5. Not Any More
6. Ode to Fallen Oxen
7. The Trail is Long
8. Controversy Follows
9. Jump Off Town (from everywhere)
10. Load the Wagon (reprise)

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Desert Records on Facebook

Desert Records on Bandcamp

Desert Records store

Long-running Birmingham heavy rockers Alunah will return with the band’s seventh full-length, Fever Dream, on Sept. 20. Following up 2022’s Strange Machine (review here) and continuing to issue through Heavy Psych Sounds — which last week announced it has re-signed them for this outing — the record also furthers the band’s collaboration with producer Chris Fielding (Conan, etc.), who has now helmed their last four albums going back to 2017’s Solennial (review here).

And while subsequent to that release the band went through their most major lineup shift, which brought vocalist Siân Greenaway on board with bassist Dan Burchmore and founding drummer Jake Mason — guitarist Matt Noble joined in 2020 — the fact remains that Alunah have never put out the same record twice. Their delve into classic heavy vibes can be heard on the suitably-hooky new single “Never Too Late,” and in the sharpness of its tonality and the urgent feel of its groove, there are hints of metal being dropped even as Francis Tobolsky of Dresden, Germany’s Wucan guests on vocals alongside Greenaway, who in the interim since 2022 has also signed to Rise Above with the more glam-rock-oriented project/alter-ego Bobbie Dazzle.

That is to say, “Never Too Late,” while catchy and very much Alunah‘s own, hints at shifts in intention as part of the band’s ongoing creative growth and expanding reach. This will likely be the record that carries them past their 20th anniversary (they started out in 2006), and moving forward feels like the most appropriate way they could possibly honor such a thing, since that’s what they’ve done all along.

Album details follow from the PR wire. “Never Too Late” premieres on the player like three lines down from here and last year’s standalone Alice Cooper cover is at the bottom of the post for further digging.

Get ready to have this one stuck in your head for the rest of the day, and enjoy:

Alunah, “Never Too Late” track premiere

With their third album on Heavy Psych Sounds Records, Alunah have wasted no time in a post-pandemic haze since their last release, balancing being on the European festival circuit alongside touring the UK. However, in a Birmingham rehearsal room away from the outside world, everyday life and online noise, their latest full length “Fever Dream” has been quietly brewing waiting to see the light of day.

Forged from a period of extensive jamming and soul searching “Fever Dream” digs into the core of what makes Alunah tick, being in a room together making the music they want to hear. Recorded during the winter of 2024, the atmosphere of the historic Foel Studio allows groove to flow alongside riff, heft and melody in equal measure. The brooding progressive majesty of the title track, the eastern soundscape of “Sacred Grooves” and the doom and roll of “Far From Reality” each highlight the album’s ability to surprise and deliver in equal measure throughout the emotive journey of its nine tracks. Let yourself fall deep into the “Fever Dream”.

“Never Too Late” combines the bones of an idea we came up with right at the start of the writing process for the album, along with fresh inspiration that happened once in the recording studio. Fran from Wucan graciously added her vocal lines to help surpass our initial vision, so turn it up loud and enjoy.

Credits
Produced by Chris Fielding (Electric Wizard, Conan)
Artwork by Stefán Ari (The Vintage Caravan)
“Never Too Late” additional vocals by Francis Tobolsky (Wucan)
“I’ve Paid The Price” additional piano by Aaron B. Thompson (Rosalie Cunningham)

ALUNAH lineup
Siân Greenaway – Vocals
Matt Noble – Guitar
Dan Burchmore – Bass
Jake Mason – Drums

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Alunah, “I’m Eighteen” (Alice Cooper cover)