Posted in Bootleg Theater on January 15th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Multinational heavy post-rockers Clâm will make their self-titled debut March 20. The four-piece — who generally stylize their moniker all-lowercase: clâm — are premiering a video below for the opening track/second single “Levee Lament,” which follows behind “Here and Now,” and in its repetitions speaks to a bluesy foundation beneath the ambience and resonant distortion and shimmer that preface the rush of distortion which “Levee Lament” is perhaps using to convey an actual flood. The beginnings of the band bear out their bluesiness — some version of clâm existed a decade ago as Clambake, working in more of a roots-music context — though the 33-minute entirety of Clâm, the album and its six component tracks, demonstrates just how far they’ve come building outward from there.
“Levee Lament” blends tonal presence, with hints of heft to come in the initial bass and drums, and a marked sense of drift in the guitar. The band — vocalist Michelle Blythe, guitarist Sven Hollmann, bassist Eddie Blythe and drummer/sometimes vocalist Björn Giebler — blend exploration and structure fluidly, and the vocals of the first verse set a pattern of repetition that the other songs will hold to before, right around 1:20, a volume burst brings new density of fuzz, soon to ebb, but soon to return with a grungeier push into the airy solo, prefacing the crescendo in the second half to come. The subsequent “Outside” functions not entirely dissimilarly, with repeated urgings to “go outside” — fair enough, it’s been a while — but has more of a krautrocking rhythm beneath its shoegazy float. This sets up a contrast in “Here and Now,” which begins at a slower roll, becomes more fervent in the drums and thickens the distortion throughout the presumed end of side A.
Side B begins brooding and percussive, or at least meditative, in “Home,” with a drone rising up through guitar and giving way after the intro to a start-stop bassline push and forward vocal clarity. The line, “Godspeed, my lover” cycles through for the verses, and lets go into a chorus backed by rich fuzz, subtly growing heavier as it moves. The acoustic strum of “Borrowed,” the shortest track at 3:30, comes in like a departure given the wash of effects conjured elsewhere, let alone the synthiness that follows on closer “Lovely Time,” but they make the folkishness work for them at Blythe‘s lyrics build in kind with the instrumental measures. “Lovely Time” is more urbane and that’s clearly the idea, returning to some of the progressivism of “Outside,” and bookending with “Levee Lament” as a hynotic lead back into the real world, which I’ll admit feels a little less warm in comparison to the sounds emitted throughout Clâm.
There is adventure here, but a plan at work as well, if you want to put it on those terms. Part of it is the history of bluesier fare, and part is a forward-looking post-heavy rock use of fuzz and distortion as an immersive backdrop into which a listener might plunge. I guess it makes sense, then, that there are so many waves in the video, as you’ll see below.
More info follows in blue, courtesy of the PR wire:
Clâm, “Levee Lament” video premiere
Visions of rising waters crashing waves and entreaties to Mother Earth bring climate change into sharp focus for the second single release of clâm. Will the levee hold?
Blending psychedelic, ambient, space/slack, and fuzz rock with a shimmering touch of disco, clâm forges a unique heavy-psych sound. Expansive layers, evocative vocals, meditative guitars, tight bass lines, and rhythmically charged drums create soundscapes that are at once dark and joyful. The music is rooted in deep friendship, diverse influences, and the immediacy of the present moment.
Their debut single “Here and Now” was a slow-burning magnum opus contemplating the fragile architecture holding our inner and outer worlds together. As harmonies rise and melodies weave between concord and chaos, the finale urges listeners to bind the collective soul to the mast and weather the storm.
In a world flooded with noise and surface images, clâm embraces the artist’s duty to restore vision. Love. Dance. Wake up.
Tracklisting: 1. Levee Lament 2. Outside 3. Here And Now 4. Home 5. Borrowed 6. Lovely Time
Band photo by Theresa Völker.
clâm is: Michelle Blythe (USA) – vocals Sven Hollmann (Germany) – guitar Eddie Blythe (UK) – bass Björn Giebler (Germany) – drums
The self-titled release above is from 2015, self-issued on Fu Manchu‘s At the Dojo imprint, and as you know if you pushed play, readily available to stream, download and own in a four-song 10″ edition on vinyl. The root of this five-track digital version, however, is in a three-song 1990 seven-incher called Kept Between Trees on Slap a Ham Records, which along with a couple other early singles — ’92’s Pick-Up Summer and Senioritis, ’93’s Don’t Bother Knockin’ (If This Vans Rockin’); this is all on Discogs, so don’t mistake it for arcane knowledge — mark the years of transition of the San Clemente, California, band from the teenaged hardcore punk of Virulence‘s reissued-in-2010-as-a-compilation If This Isn’t a Dream (discussed here, review here) to where Fu Manchu would be by the time they released their debut album, No One Rides for Free (reissue review here), in 1994.
Engineered by Billy Anderson (Acid King, Neurosis, hundreds of others) and produced by the band with Jonathan Burnside (Melvins, Clutch, hundreds of others), Kept Between Trees originally included its title-track, also renamed to “Trapeze Freak,” as well as “Bouillabaisse” and “Jr. High School Ring (7 Karat)” on the B-side. The lineup for the nascent Fu Manchu was guitarist Scott Hill, drummer Ruben Romano, bassist Greg McCaughey, and vocalist Glenn Chivens. Hill, McCaughey and Romano were in Virulence, and by the time they got to No One Rides for Free, they’d apparently be tired enough of lead singers for Hill to take over that duty. Fu Manchu — the five-track EP streaming above based on Kept Between Trees — helps fill in some of the evolutionary missing links between what Virulence was and what Fu Manchu would become.
Obviously no accounting for the growth of a band is ever going to be complete, whether it’s a documentary film or a listen-back-for-context piece like this, because of things like life experience, both individual and collective among the members of the band, the influences at the time and the growth into one’s own that invariably happens among committed artists over however many years (ideally all of them), and the inherent incompleteness of any human narrative to convey what actually happened and when, but there’s value in hearing the proto-lurch in the guitar line of the two-minute “Bouillabaisse” and realizing that this was Fu Manchu in the process of learning what manipulating tempo could do to make a song sound heavy, having taken inspiration from what was around them, be it slow-Slayer thrash divergence the tonal presence that grunge brought to punk and noise, and directed it toward what were the the ends of their own craft at that point. This too would change over time, as the members of Fu Manchu changed, in terms of lineup, yes, and also as people and a group. As they grew up, in other words.
Last week, after I posted the discussion of Virulence, Scott Hill left a comment highlighting some of their earliest points of inspiration:
…Started as a hardcore punk band, then saw BL’AST! Live in 1985 then got the Melvins Gluey LP then stared listening to a lot of the Swans and late period Black Flag and a band called Gore from overseas……..then around 1988 heard and saw TAD / Soundgarden / Nirvana / Laughing Hyenas / Big Chief / Mudhoney / Dinosaur JR / Sonic Youth / Monster Magnet / early White Zombie and changed to Fu Manchu……
Swans, Black Flag and the Netherlands’ Gore into TAD, Big Chief, Mudhoney, Sonic Youth and Monster Magnet, etc. — one would be lucky to be alive in 1988-1990 and to have heard those bands, though one would hear some of them soon enough on the radio as commercial media embraced grunge and alternative rock in its wake. But thinking about Kept Between Trees, the noisier aspects of Fu Manchu‘s sound, the organic bringing together of weighted distortion, riff-led groove and a disaffection that on “Kept Between Trees” itself (which got retitled at some point, morphing into “Trapeze Freak”), with its punch of low end and ready howl on the turnarounds, feels specifically born of Black Flag, was already in the processs of coming into itself.
In its most expanded form — that is, as 2015’s retrospective Fu Manchu rather than 1990’s Kept Between Trees, with “Blowtorch” and “Flashin'” added that were recorded around the same time and went unreleased — this offering still only runs five songs and 16 minutes. It’s not the most in-depth studio catalogue of Fu Manchu‘s 36-years-ago ouevre. But I feel like especially considering the punk foundations from which they emerged, it makes sense that they would have turned to recording and releasing singles for a few years as they sorted the lineup, probably focused on live shows, and eventually made their way to making a full-length.
And to be sure, some of who Fu Manchu would be is audible in the material of this era, limited though the amount of it ultimately is. The start-stop riff in “Jr. High School Ring (7 Karat)” is prescient of the kinds of grooves on which the band would make their name throughout the mid- and late-1990s, and already in the upped density of “Blowtorch” and “Flashin’,” one can hear the exploration taking place of just how heavy Fu Manchu could and wanted to get. Organic creative progression. Trying new ideas. Building from one thing into the next. In many ways, Fu Manchu have continued this process all along, and it’s a defining feature of their work.
But to go back to before they ‘figured it out’ and to hear the iterative steps as they happened is a reminder that most bands, most art, don’t emerge ready-made. Some certainly appear to, and maybe if you heard Fu Manchu doing “Regal Begal” on your local FM station in 1996, you might think it was all brand new, but the truth is that there’d been over a decade of work leading them to that point. In that way too, Kept Between Trees is a critical document of the beginnings of this band. It tells you what they were doing, where they were going, and portrays the evolution in progress. Especially noteworthy, while one can hear likenesses to the names Hill listed in that comment above, already Fu Manchu were beginning to differentiate themselves. The niche they’d end up finding is still their own.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
—
I’m writing this later in the day than I generally would. It’s just after 1PM. We had a meeting at The Pecan’s school and it went long. For my own future edification, I’ll mark it as the first time outside-district placement was brought up even as a hypothetical to the team. Nobody’s respone to that, by the way, was that it was a terrible idea and/or unnecessary. When I asked if my genius-ass daughter was currently on track to finish a second grade curriculum by the end of the year, the answer was a solid maybe.
More meetings is how we first proceed. Those will be next week. Next week my other two Hungarian classes pick up (one of which I still need to register for), so time will be tight. I’m going to try to review the Pelican EP and maybe one or two other things, but if it’s light like it’s been these past weeks despite the fact that things are actually happening as everybody returns from break and starts rolling out 2026 announcements for records, tours, festivals, whatever it might be, I’m doing life stuff. I’ll write as much as I can, like always.
Honestly, a lot of this week I spent distracted ahead of this meeting that happened this morning, and I can still feel my body being ‘keyed up’ from being in that room. Part of me wants to take a shower about it. Part of me wants to take a nap. Part of me knows he should start his Hungarian homework. Also vacuum, reading, fucking off, going to buy bananas because we’re out and I forgot to bring my wallet when I went to take The Pecan her lunch so I couldn’t go to the store (which I realized of course right after I walked into it), and whatever else.
Anybody want to do a Zelda update? I might finish A Link Between Worlds when I’m done with this post. It’s not the longest game, but it’s a fitting successor to A Link to the Past, and given my 35-years-strong affection for that game, I can’t think of a higher compliment to pay it. Outside that franchise, I bought Dragon Quest XI last week off Facebook Marketplace and have been enjoying the early going of that. I played the first three Dragon Warrior games on NES, did Dragon Quest VII on PlayStation, so not my first time among the slimes and such, but it’s fun by which I mean deeply repetitive while you grind and explore. You can run up and smack monsters before you fight. I find that enjoyable. The Pecan’s been neck-deep in various Mario Party titles on the Switch. I don’t know which ones because in my view they’re all awful — I’ve always hated mini-games; even in A Link Between Worlds, there are heart pieces I’m kissing up because I don’t want to do the race, the target-shoot, whatever it is; I’ve done the same as I’ve played through the Zelda series, 2D and 3D — but when they’re not infuriating her, she’s enjoying herself. There is a fair bit of yelling at the tv involved though, and so I’m not sure how long the delve will last ultimately. “Are you sure you’re having fun right now?” is a question she might be asked on a given evening the last two weeks or so. No answer beyond the strongly implied “fuck you.”
I admire her persistence, of course — not that she hasn’t proven her ability to stick to her guns in everything she’s done for the eight years she’s been alive — but I also believe there’s value in walking the fuck away from a thing when it’s not working for you. That whole “quitter’s never win” ethic is reasonable until it’s applied needlessly to things you don’t actually want to be doing. Sometimes you need to move on.
Are we still talking about video games? Yes, but also the school, or sports, a job, whatever else, hypothetically. I ask myself if I still need this site in my life all the time. It’s an ongoing conversation I have. With me.
I’m light on plans for next week beyond catching up on news that I’m already behind on and reviewing whatever hits me hardest. I guess that’s not the best ‘stay tuned!’ teaser for the week to come, but hell, it’s Jan. 9 and the world has ended like three times in the last fucking week. My brain is elsewhere. How about everyone goes on a general strike and then I’ll blog more.
Fuck fascism. Fuck ICE. Fuck you if you think extrajudicial murder by regime-backed paramilitaries is okay. One more time, just to be clear. Get fucked. Forever. I will never forgive the contingent of my countrymen who have put the United States where it is. This regime will end — they all do — and for the rest of my life, I will carry a special hate reserved for just these people, most of whom look a lot like me. If you’re one of them, then you too can eat shit and die for all I fucking care. No safe space here for nazis.
Everyone else, have a great and safe weekend. Have fun out there and keep your head up as best you can. I’ll be hanging in and back on Monday with more.
Fu Manchu have never been shy about their punker origins, but so far as I know, this 2010 release of Virulence‘s If This Isn’t a Dream… 1985-1989 (review here), is the earliest document of it. Southern Lord released the 20-track collection, has trimmed it down for the digital version to If This Isn’t a Dream on its own, the 1988 recording featuring eight songs which are presented here as two side-long tracks. On the original CD version, live cuts and demos followed, so it was a bit more comprehensive. But what’s streaming above is enough to get the point across, so if you hear it and must know more, know that more is there to be known.
Some 40 years later, the crunch and SoCal hardcore-inspired aggro vibes are both quaint and of continued relevance. “Dead Weight” leads off and is one of just two songs to feature here in more than one version, alongside “Wrapped Up,” which follows. What’s funny about that is you think, “Whoa, this is pretty raw,” listening to them the first time — “Dead Weight” is a four-and-a-half-minute shove but twists into this angular riff in its back half like something prescient of Neurosis‘ Souls at Zero, while “Wrapped Up” builds on that churn to hone a downtrodden lumber — and they come back around on what sounds like a cleaned-up version of a microcassette, and blah blah context happens. But any way you go, from raw to rawer to the 52-second live take on Void‘s “My Rules” — just about rawest — the Reagan-era teen angst retains the force of its delivery, and although Fu Manchu would become a different kind of band, some of those origins and some of their signature tonality can be heard in If This Isn’t a Dream.
The band, Virulence, was the lineup of guitarist Scott Hill, bassist Greg McCaughey, and drummer Ruben Romano — who would go on to found Fu Manchu (at some point, Mark Abshire got in there too) — with Ken Pucci on vocals. Awkward. I’m not sure who came aboard when, but the question also arises of how far you need to go back, like does it need to count when they’re fifth graders? It’s fair to call Virulence of their era, if by that you mean a few years behind what C.O.C. were doing on the other side of the country and what SST Records had pumped out earlier in the decade from Black Flag, Bl’Ast, and the willfully slow Saint Vitus. The latter of course would go on to define no small part of the course of American doom, and Virulence would seem to have internalized a malleability of tempo as well, as shifts throughout the nine-minute “The Curse” — which caps If This Isn’t a Dream-proper — or the shove nestling into a groove that is “Spilling it Out” earlier on demonstrate. There won’t be a ton of surprises for those who’ve made the plunge into Southern California’s hardcore of the day, but if you’re a fan of the style, Virulence‘s material retains more than just academic value as context for (most of; again, ouch) the members’ next group.
But I have to admit that if the question is whether or not I’d be writing about If This Isn’t a Dream… 1985-1989 had 80 percent of the band not gone on to become one of the most crucial heavy rock acts of their or any other generation, I would probably have to say no. That’s not to rag on it at all, I’ve just never been that into hardcore, much to my social deficit (the hardcore kids always seemed to be having so much fun; I just couldn’t get there). So for me, what I dig into when it comes to If This Isn’t a Dream is the barebones sound, the unbridled bootleg scathe in a live track like “Empty Head,” or the sense of space that ends up in the closing demo “Fatal Crash.” Would you call that crossover? Is it metal? Is it punk? Arthouse hardcore? You could ask the same questions about “No Fun” (not a Stooges cover) here and taking into account the plod of “Blank Stare” and the feedback-and-thud intro in which the entire first half of the seven-minute “Kindergarten” is mired, the answer isn’t so clearly one thing or the other.
If this was a demo or a first-EP-on-Bandcamp or whatever it might be coming my way in 2026, the rough, dated recording sound aside, there’s just about no way I wouldn’t say there was potential in the mix of sounds taking place. No, I’m not saying I’d be like, “Oh, this band is gonna ditch the singer and become Fu Manchu.” That’s not it. But, taking the If This Isn’t a Dream tracks specifically — the first eight songs of the total 20-track/79-minute CD complete with liner notes which would’ve been so helpful writing this that are in storage with the rest of most of my collection; so much plastic, just sitting there — it’s not hard to hear how Virulence might have moved forward on their own course toward something else.
Consider a couple of the names dropped above; Neurosis and Corrosion of Conformity. Both of those bands started out in a place not entirely dissimilar from Virulence and went in different directions, each defining a respective genre between post-metal and Southern heavy rock. Fu Manchu‘s contributions to fuzz would likewise serve as an influence that continues to spread, and maybe that turn or evolution would have happened had they kept the original name as well, but it’s moot at this point. In 1990, Fu Manchu would release their first 7″ — reissued by the band’s At the Dojo label in 2015 as a 10″ — and begin their own, ongoing progression.
Maybe it’s a fan-piece. Being a fan, I’m okay with that. Even if you just chase down (or push play above) on the first eight songs, If This Isn’t a Dream… 1985-1989 speaks both to the time in which it was made and what some of these players would do in years subsequent. Fu Manchu are still punks. Turns out you only ever grow up so much.
Happy New Year 2026. Thanks for reading.
—
Hey. Happy New Year 2026. Thanks for reading. Ha.
I’m going to a hockey game with The Patient Mrs. and The Pecan this afternoon, so I’m going to do my best to keep it brief. Kind of an off week this week, but I still posted every day but yesterday. The Pecan has been sleeping until like 9AM, which has allowed for some morning productivity, and I only had Hungarian class twice this week, so that was more time to write as well.
But the hockey game. The New York Sirens play at the Prudential Center in Newark and we’ve been a handful of times now (they also went the day I was in the studio with Solace; I think this will be their third game of the year and my second; we also went at least twice last season) and it’s always fun. The PWHL is building, still adding teams and such — there are four new ones this year — so it’s not super-crowded and it’s not overwhelming to park and it’s a thing you can just go and do and The Pecan is apparently starting to get into it and was pissed when they lost the last game, which feels developmentally appropriate. It’ll be a good time, but I don’t want to be writing this from my seat in the arena, so I’ll wrap it up early.
Next week I’m doing a — wait for it — Suplecs premiere! Yes, I’m stupid stoked and yes I’m going to review the album like two months early. Also look out for poll results basically as soon as I hound Slevin to compile them and then manage to put together a list — so next Friday? All jokes aside, give me some time. I’ll get there as soon as I can.
Quick Zelda update: I quit Majora’s Mask. By far the most fun I had playing it was when I read the guide and The Patient Mrs. handled the controller, and I’d be glad to go through the rest of the game that way, but I honestly don’t think she has time or interest, and I’m not looking to set up a dynamic where I’m waiting for her to play and she’s, I don’t know, paying bills and answering work emails or something entirely more useful, or just dicking around on her phone, reading on her iPad, whatever the case may be. Her time is plenty obligated. I’m not looking to add to that, so Majora’s Mask is out. I’m not saying never, but with that glitch that would’ve made me have to redo the Snowfall dungeon, and maybe Woodfall as well, I just wasn’t that interested. The masks and changing into a Goron, Deku or Zora all had control issues, and of all the Zelda games I’ve dug into at this point, it was the least engaging. It was like they took all the joy out of Ocarina of Time, both in story and gameplay.
I did a full run through A Link to the Past as consolation. Could not tell you the last time I played that without cheat codes, actually getting the pieces of heart from around the world and fully upgrading the Master Sword, etc. It was wonderful. A pain in the ass in parts, but I had put a mod on it so the dialogue was a bit different and some of the art, and crucially, I could turn while dashing, and that was a big quality-of-life boon short of invincibility or infinite hearts. I died 12 times total before beating Ganon, and immediately started A Link Between Worlds, with another of the same kind of graphics mods I’ve been using. It’s set in the same world and is in some ways a sequel, so it seemed fitting. I got the Master Sword yesterday, after doing the first three dungeons, got a bunch of heart pieces, played octorok baseball, and so on. I hit a dead end trying to get a heart piece and admitted defeat last night, tried to set up The Wind Waker again since at some point I apparently deleted the game I had played through twice (which sucks), and got it running only to have it lag beyond the point where I could ignore it and play anyway.
What sucks about that is knowing that my hardware is the problem, but I don’t have $5,000 for a gaming laptop, which somehow is what it would take to run an emulated game that came out on a handheld system 13 years ago. I don’t get that, but I don’t get anything, so there you go.
I also tried to install a Tears of the Kingdom Xmas mod, with a special holiday story and quests and such, but it didn’t work. I put a message in the modder’s Discord and they said they found the problem and were going to work on it over the next couple days. I hope that comes together as I think it would be fun to watch The Pecan play it, let alone play it myself thereafter. Fingers crossed.
Alright, that’s it. Thanks if you’ve added your list to the year-end poll. If not, please do while there’s still time. Sunday I’ll close it? Something like that.
Otherwise, have fun, be safe, hydrate and I’ll see you back here on Monday for more of these shenanigans.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 30th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Since first encountering the title “Mellow Knees” on Darsombra‘s 2023 album, Dumesday Book (review here), I’ve made the phrase a part of my personal lexicon. That is to say, on a personal level, I aspire toward ‘mellow knees.’ If you’ve ever done yoga — and I’m pretty sure Darsombra‘s Brian Daniloski is certified to lead your class if you haven’t — it’s the kind of idea you might encounter there as gentle encouragement not to be kicking your own ass while forcing your body into a pose in some way it doesn’t want to go. I like yoga. I like Darsombra. And I have knee problems. Such confluence of interest and circumstance is rare.
Will “Mellow Knees” put the mellow in your knees? It might. It’s a rain-on-the-windshield tour through highway Americana. Some roads you’ve seen, some just in videos like this one, and some you don’t know. I’m pretty sure that, like George Washington, they cross the Chesapeake, which is fitting for a Baltimorean band to include. “Mellow Knees” is the sixth clip to come from Dumesday Book, and this isn’t quite a premiere, but it isn’t quite not either. You might recall exactly one year ago it was “Everything is Canceled” being unveiled. The band’s situation, with the loss this Fall of Ann Everton (synth, vocals, percussion, projections), who made this video as part of an ongoing project for the whole record, is obviously different than it was a year ago today.
Daniloski, who is the lone remaining member and founder of Darsombra (which began 20 years ago), is posting the video in Everton‘s honor today, Dec. 30, and has recently announced the initial lineup for Transmission (posted here), which will be a two-day festival Feb. 28 and March 1, also dedicated to Ann‘s memory. Of course, that context, and thinking of the Dumesday Book visual album as unfinished, brings grief into the context of the video’s arrival, but as you watch the two-and-a-half-minute twisty droner, slow your brain down if you can and take in the footage you’re seeing. This country is home to some of the most beautiful landscapes on this planet. Environmentally and aesthetically, that’s worth preserving.
If you need me, I’ll be over here trying to mellow out my knees so I don’t end up with a mellow cortisone shot into the bone. Thus harshing the mellow.
Enjoy the clip:
Darsombra, “Mellow Knees” official video
“Mellow Knees” by DARSOMBRA from the album Dumesday Book
2023 Pnictogen Records Filmed and edited by Ann Everton
In loving memory of Ann Everton
This video was completed in 2024. It is the ending sequence of what was supposed to be the Dumesday Book video album. Ann wanted to create a video for every song on the 75 minute album and have them all connect its pandemic-tymes storyline, from when we were all told to “Shelter in Place” in spring 2020, to its conclusion about a year or so later, which, for Darsombra and this video, meant being able to leave our home to go back out on the road and tour again. She had completed videos for over half of the album, including this one, before her passing in October 2025.
Confirmed locations: Black Willow Siphon – Oregon White Mountains – New Hampshire Badlands National Park – South Dakota Joshua Tree National Park – California Factory Butte – Utah Death Valley – California Maryland Diablo Canyon – New Mexico US Pacific Northwest
Unconfirmed locations: Colorado and/or Montana and/or Canada US Pacific Northwest and/or Atlantic Northeast Four Corners US Florida Keys Pennsylvania Tabernacle Hill Lava Tubes – Utah and other places
Darsombra, Dumesday Book (2023)
Darsombra, “Shelter in Place” official video
Darsombra, “Gibbet Lore” official video
Darsombra, “Call the Doctor” official video
Darsombra, “Nightgarden” official video
Darsombra, “Everything is Canceled” official video
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 29th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
First of all, I’d like to go on record and say calling Kandodo‘s Solstice a ‘collection’ sounds pretentious as hell, and it was my idea, so don’t go around blaming the psych-experimentalist (mostly) solo-project of Simon Price (The Heads) for it. It’s an original. In my defense, you’ve got two separate LPs comprised of four different mixes of what seems to be the same root piece — that’s “Solstice,” not that the changeover from “Solstice” to “Solstice Dub” is broadly discernable on Solstice/Dub — and if that’s enough to send your mind reeling, wait until you put it on.
You know what the problem with today is? People don’t have 22 minutes to stare blankly and turn off their mind to watch a psychedelically manipulated drone video with flashing colors and scenes from old Brigitte Bardot and Claudia Cardinale western movies in slow motion. I know it’s not the most reasonable expectation that someone is going to do that, but I’m not sure Kandodo is supposed to be or is about being reasonable, so much as — especially here — it’s about the malleability of sound and the low-key revelry that comes from playing in it. Don’t ask me where “Solstice/Dusk (Acid Western Mix)” fits in the grand scheme of the project — I’m assuming it’s an edit more than a remix of what streams below as the first half of “Solstice Dusk/Dawn” on the album of the same name; recorded on one solstice, released on another — but if you feel like you know anything about anything by the time you’re done listening, go back and start over.
A lot of the distinction between the various “Solstice” pieces under the Solstice banner will come down to where Price‘s guitar has its more howling moments. These two albums were made in partial collaboration with Hugh Morgan, also of The Heads, and that too becomes part of the fleshing out around the looped foundation that lies beneath all the ensuing fuzz, meditative swirl and otherwise out-there-ness. Whatever other shenanigans it’s getting up to, “Solstice/Dusk (Acid Western Mix)” represents the scope of the project as well as one could without actually putting in the front-to-back time to hear it, and after the credits have rolled for what might be The Legend of Frenchie King, the last few minutes are spent at the water line on what looks like a lake as the drone swells and recedes in volume.
It would be easy to lose a day or two, especially on headphones, with all the tiny nuances poking through at your consciousness in a way enhanced by physical proximity of the sound to your brain, to hearing these works test the limits of where psych ends, where songs end, and where whatever comes after begins. But if you wake up and find it’s Wednesday evening and wonder what happened, you can’t say you weren’t warned.
I should note that when I started this post, Brigitte Bardot was still alive. She’s since passed away at the age of 91. Her later years were, as I’ve found out in the interim, spent being a racist asshole, but apparently she also did a lot of work with animals? It’s hard being a person and trauma finds many forms of expression. Anyway, if you hadn’t heard, she’s dead. Fabulous coincidence I’m posting this video today.
Enjoy:
Kandodo, “Solstice/Dusk (Acid Western Mix)” official video
kandodo ‘solstice dusk’ full audio/visual treatment video by simon price acid western cut featuring BB and CC https://kandodo.bandcamp.com/album/solstice-dusk-dawn 1 of 4 mixes of this track (solstice/dub/dusk/dawn) on 12″/dl insta. @laud_hyena
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 19th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
The great shame of Kyuss‘ tenure — apart from the fact that 30 years later they stand among the most influential rock acts of their generation and still have never really gotten their due for spearheading desert rock, stoner rock and a vision of riff-led heavy that continues to inspire artists worldwide — is they never put out a live record. There are videos out there — some killer full sets, to be sure — and a few corresponding bootlegs, but apart from the four tracks bundled at the end of their posthumous 2000 sorta-greatest-hits collection Muchas Gracias: The Best of Kyuss, which had seen prior release on CD singles and as a promo EP that I don’t even know if it was ever publicly sold, there’s no real, official documentation of who they were on stage. A live album — hell, take that Bizarre Fest ’95 set press it to a disc — would be nice to have in hindsight, especially for those fans who’ve come along in the years since Kyuss‘ breakup, which at this point is most of their fanbase.
Muchas Gracias features “Gardenia,” “Thumb,” “Conan Troutman” and “Freedom Run” as recorded at Marquee-Club in Hamburg on May 24, 1994, and if you would read that and say, “Gee, that’s not the kind of thing one usually finds on something calling itself The Best Of…,” then yeah, you’re right. Hence “sorta,” above. Certainly, if Kyuss ever had done a real, greatest-hits-only release, songs like “Green Machine,” “Thumb,” “Supa Scoopa and Mighty Scoop,” “Demon Cleaner,” “Gardenia” (the studio version) or “One Inch Man” from their now-holy trinity of albums, 1992’s Blues for the Red Sun (discussed here), 1994’s Welcome to Sky Valley (discussed here) and 1995’s …And the Circus Leaves Town (discussed here) — the latter two on Elektra, like Muchas Gracias, the former on Dali Records — would feature. They don’t. You do get “50 Million Year Trip (Downside Up),” “Demon Cleaner,” “Hurricane” and “El Rodeo” from those records, and the instrumental “A Day Early and a Dollar Extra” from 1991’s debut LP, Wretch (discussed here), but the rest is given over to B-sides and the aforementioned live tracks.
This makes it a gift, mind you.
Consider the question of access to a song like “Un Sandpiper,” with its distinctive spoken intro that at one point I’d heard was Jello Biafra but can’t verify that so I’m probably wrong, and brash, circa-’94 groove. The only other place that song has appeared to my knowledge is on the CD single for “Gardenia,” and the subsequent “Shine” comes from Kyuss‘ 1996 split with Wool (with Pete and Franz Stahl) that was released by Bong Load Records. These, as well as “Mudfly,” “A Day Early and a Dollar Extra” and “Flip the Phase” (yes, which is a reworking of the earlier “Fatso Forgotso II (Flip the Phase),” and even “Fatso Forgotso” from the Man’s Ruin split with Queens of the Stone Age (discussed here), which is out of print by I don’t know how many years at this point. Plus the live tracks. These would be the sovereign territory of digital completists and well-to-do CD shoppers were it not for this release so conveniently bringing them together. Worth it for the stank in the lead of “Shine” alone, and, instead of a half-hearted summary of the singles that were sent to radio, Kyuss find a way to make the 75-minute collection about the story of the band as a whole, the way they conjured and rolled out grooves, the loose feel of some of their structures despite a plan at work, and the scope of their songwriting as regards tone and impact.
Because while it’s also most certainly handy, Muchas Gracias is more representative of who Kyuss were as a group than a regular greatest hits album could hope to be. Not only does it include nearly everyone who was ever in the band throughout its 15 cuts — vocalist John Garcia, guitarist Joshua Homme, bassists Nick Oliveri and Scott Reeder and drummers Brant Bjork and Alfredo Hernández; only original bassist Chris Cockrell, who was out of the band before Wretch, doesn’t appear — but it gives a sense of their scope as well. A sub-three-minute instrumental, “Mudfly” twists in a way that portends some of what Homme had already gone on to harness for Queens of the Stone Age by the time this was released, where the one-two punch of “Gardenia” and “Thumb” at the start of the finishing stretch of live tracks is, for someone who never saw the band, the stuff of daydreams. They finish with “Freedom Run” after “Conan Troutman,” and one could hardly ask for a more Kyussian closer than the ensuing eight minutes of jam and shove topped off with Garcia going, “Alright alright alright, ohhh,” like he too is somewhat knocked back by how much ass his own band kicks. Reasonable.
I’ve said a fair amount over the last few weeks about Kyuss‘ influence and legacy, and the continued relevance of the music is an important part of the story, so I stand by that. And no, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that Muchas Gracias is as essential as any of the three long-players that preceded it, because it isn’t. But the fact of the matter is that whether or not you were there like Johnny Groundfloor in 1990 when these guys were putting out demos, or you came aboard at any point between then and now, Muchas Gracias captures aspects of this band’s personality in ways the regular albums can’t. I do wish we’d gotten a proper Kyuss live record, but I also wish we’d gotten about six more studio full-lengths, so take that for what it’s worth.
And while what could’ve been is fodder for alternate timelines and stoner rock headcanons, the work the members of Kyuss would do on their respective paths, sometimes collaborating, more often not, raises a fervent debate about whether it would be worth the tradeoff. That’s a fun question and completely unanswerable at the same time, but what matters is the 30-years-standing resonance of the work Kyuss did during their time. To this day, their sound speaks to notions of freedom and place in ways that are rare even among the hordes of acts working under their influence. It is a thing to be treasured.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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Next week is Xmas. Fine. On Sunday, barring disaster — it was supposed to happen last week but it snowed — I’ll be doing an in-studio with Solace as they work on their next album, due in Spring. That’s about the only post that’ll be up early next week, though, as I’ll be doing holiday stuff with family as well as working on my year-end post, which I think is going to be a big one this year. There is a lot to talk about.
My hope is to have that done by Xmas, but if not, I don’t honestly think anybody other than me will be bothered. It’ll get done when it gets done. I’ll be chipping away on it starting tomorrow, though how on earth I’m going to write an intro for having lived through 2025 and not have it be depressing as shit will be an issue I’ll need to tackle. That one might keep me up tonight.
That’s the big news — “big things coming!” as bands say on socials, except by “big things” I probably just mean 8,000 or so words — so let’s do a Zelda update.
Zelda update: I hate Majora’s Mask. I played Ocarina of Time 3D with a graphics mod and loved it. I played the original in high school (still have cartridge; it’s over there on the shelf), but this was my first time through the 3DS version on an emulator. But after having such a good time revisiting a game that, when I finished it years ago, I put down the controller and said I never needed to play another Zelda again (and didn’t until Breath of the Wild five years after its release), I decided it was finally time I embrace Majora’s Mask. I got the same kind of mod and have been using a walkthrough as I will, but Majora’s Mask 3D just isn’t fun.
I’m like three-quarters through and need to go back and redo a bunch of the dungeons because of some glitch, and I’m honestly not even sure I want to finish it. The best time I’ve had with it has been reading the guide while The Patient Mrs. handles the controller, but she’s not always available and I honestly just want to be done so I can go back to ground and dig into A Link to the Past. I could go on with my complaints about Majora’s Mask, but I highly doubt anyone’s interested. I’ll just say I hate mini-games and leave it at that. I understand they only had a year to make it, and I guess I can see how a cult following would have built up around the game from those who are gluttons for that specific kind of self-punishment, but yeah. I’m not a fan. The completist in me is kicking the side of my temple, but I don’t have a ton of not-doing-other-shit time, and I feel like I’d rather not spend it beating my head into a wall of polygons and revamped texture pngs.
So that’s it. If you’re celebrating Xmas next week, my best to you and yours. And if not, my best to you and yours. Stay hydrated, fuck fascism, keep warm, contribute to the year-end poll, all that good stuff.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 12th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
By the time this six-song split between Kyuss and Queens of the Stone Age split EP (previously discussed here) was released by Man’s Ruin Records in Dec. 1997, Kyuss weren’t a band anymore, and guitarist Josh Homme‘s subsequent project, Queens of the Stone Age, was beginning to take shape after starting out as Gamma Ray, releasing an initial single (also on Man’s Ruin) and being threatened with a lawsuit if they didn’t change the name by the German power metal band. Kyuss had released their fourth and final album, …And the Circus Leaves Town (discussed here), in 1995, and though nearly all of the material on the 33-minute posthumous foreshadow was previously released, the CD nonetheless serves as a convenient landmark to note the transition from one band to another. No narrative is actually so clean, of course, and to be honest, I don’t know the dates, when Kyuss was ‘done’ vs. when Queens first got together. I’m sure those stories are out there someplace.
Interestingly, Chris Goss is listed as producer, but only for the Queens of the Stone Age portion of the split, which is side B. Though Kyuss worked with the Masters of Reality mainman on three landmark LPs, two of which came out through a major label, Fred Drake — a co-owner of Rancho de la Luna and founding member of earthlings? who passed away in 2002 — is credited as producing the Kyuss tracks. That first of the two three-song sides is comprised of a Black Sabbath cover taking on “Into the Void,” which is both on-the-nose and brilliant, and two originals “Fatso Forgotso” and “Fatso Forgotso Phase II (Flip the Phase).” The first two had come out on a 7″ through Man’s Ruin already and the latter was a CD-single B-side for “One Inch Man” from the last album, and would show up on Kyuss‘ other posthumous outing, Muchas Gracias: The Best of Kyuss, which came out in 2000.
The Queens of the Stone Age tracks, again, with Goss at the helm, were also mostly previously released. “If Only Everything,” which when the band put out their 1998 self-titled debut (discussed here) would see its title shortened to “If Only,” takes its chunky-style riff born at the Homme-hosted ‘Desert Sessions’ and uses it to preface an entire career of hooky songcraft. It and “Born to Hula” were released as the Gamma Ray single and both would show up re-recorded, while “Spiders and Vingaroons” would have to wait until the 2011 reissue of the first Queens record to see inclusion as a bonus track.
But wherever else one might find its source material scattered about in the short-releases or broader discography of its respective band, the Kyuss and Queens of the Stone Age split gives the audience a rare opportunity to experience a moment of transition that generally happens behind the scenes. Think about it. When a band breaks up and a member goes on to form a new project, how many times in your life have you then run into those two bands doing a split with each other? Kyuss vocalist John Garcia, who’d already in 1997 fronted the Slo Burn EP, Amusing the Amazing, sits in on backing vocals for Queens of the Stone Age‘s “Born to Hula.” Homme had a hand in mixing both bands’ tracks. It’s about as close to a passing of the torch from one to the other as you could get without an actual ceremony.
What all of that information doesn’t tell you is that the Kyuss and Queens of the Stone Age split is worth it for “Into the Void” alone. One should not blink at the opportunity to hear circa-Circus era Kyuss bring their tonal warmth to the Black Sabbath classic while Garcia adds his own twist vocally. The chugging riff remains unto itself, a holy thing, and for being the only chance I know of to hear Scott Reeder play a Geezer Butler bassline, it’s a palpable draw. And if it seems presumptuous, first, good, rock and roll should be arrogant and sacred cows are useless — music was meant to be played — and second, Kyuss at the time did not have the 30 years of legendmaking plaudits thrown their way that they’ve had since. Note that Monster Magnet did the same song on 2000’s Nativity in Black II tribute to Black Sabbath.
While engaging with …A Circus Leaves Town — which had the same lineup, with Garcia, Homme, Reeder and drummer Alfredo Hernández — it was difficult not to wonder what might’ve been had Kyuss kept going. The rawness of the sound on “Fatso Forgotso” and “Into the Void” gives something of a glimpse. The smooth production of the band’s final album is replaced by something ganglier, with flailing sounds and a volatility that comes through despite the rampant grooves they’re working with. “Fatso Forgotso Phase II (Flip the Phase),” otherwise known just as “Flip the Phase,” is a charged, two-minute heavy punker careen with the band clearly hitting for maximum impact. After the jammier stretch in “Fatso Forgotso” with its twisting lead guitar, the all-in drive of “Fatso Forgotso Phase II (Flip the Phase)” makes for a stirring contrast. It’s about as suitable a note for Kyuss to ‘go out’ on as one might ask.
And it’s easy to hear the attack in the strum of “If Only Everything” and think to yourself that a moment has arrived. The piece inherits grunge slackerdom and laissez-faire, but is too catchy and harmonized to actually be that half-assed. Homme is tentative on vocals compared even to where he’d be as a singer in 1998, and that only adds to the nascent feel. But the song is already there, and I rate “Born to Hula” among the finest hooks Homme has composed for any band. More than “If Only Everything,” “Born to Hula” benefits from the more barebones sound, while “Spiders and Vinegaroons” heralds a weirdo streak that would go on to make the first couple Queens records all the more essential. Again, rarely are endings and beginnings so conveniently paired.
That’s the story here, but for fans of either or both acts, the Kyuss and Queens of the Stone Age split is more than just a landmarker. It brings into light and focus the appeal of each band, and in offsetting them one into the next, conveys something about what made each of them special. It’s not the last Kyuss release, but it was the one that let you know it was over and it was time for something else to happen.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
—
I guess you saw the link in the first sentence, but I’ve written about this split before. The Friday Full-Length has been a thing around here since 2013, and before that I would just close out with a cool video or whatever, so yeah, I’ve had time to cover some of this stuff. If you look back, it’s a different discussion, and if you ever hear me say I’ve said everything about a record — ever — I’ve lost my mind, so yeah, I feel like this split can accommodate two posts. Maybe 10 years from now I’ll do another. I don’t know.
I’ve never written about Muchas Gracias though, so I’ll probably do that next week.
Next week, also look for a review of the All Them Witches / King Buffalo show on Saturday in Brooklyn, which is closing out my year of live activity (I have to note it was busier than 2024, if still pretty low key), and I have two album reviews I want to write before I drop everything else and dig into the year-end stuff for real.
One is a two-part review for the two LPs Kadavar released this year. I didn’t get either as a promo, so I need to chase them down.
The other is The Whims of the Great Magnet, who now have a two-part collection called Gronsveld Jams that I want to dig into.
If I can do both of those next week, then I’m ready to take on the task of the big year-end post. That’ll be a few days writing where nothing else happens. I’ll put a ‘under construction’ thing up or something cute, maybe, when the time comes, but that should be next weekend.
In the meantime, I continue to get better from last week’s covid excursion. My stamina is better and I’m still coughing a bit but not so much my throat is burning, so I’ll take that. I’ve continued most of this week to sleep like shit, but I think Monday into Tuesday was really good, so that was nice.
Zelda update: I haven’t had time to play, and I don’t think Majora’s Mask is fun anymore, so I’m not exactly dying to finish it. Last night I guided The Patient Mrs. through the Gerudo section. She got the hookshot, which I’m hoping makes the game more enjoyable generally, but it’s like they took Ocarina of Time and decided to bring everything that was a pain in the ass about it into focus as the center of the game. You can’t even collect items because every time you reset the clock so the moon doesn’t smash into Termina, it all disappears. Oh good, I get to go cut bushes to get 50 arrows again. Better put my rupees in the bank! I guess maybe if I was a more ‘serious gamer’ or had more investment in the lore, I’d be into it, but yeah.
The Pecan started a game of Wind Waker on the Switch 2 through Switch Online. I liked that game a lot, maybe best of the bunch pre-Breath of the Wild, though there’s (suitably enough) a piece of my heart that belongs always to Ocarina of Time. She had The Minish Cap on the other night until she got pissed at it, which definitely is a thing that happens. I started a game on my laptop of A Link to the Past using a mod called ‘redux’ that changes some of the dialogue — it also has the unfortunate effect of getting rid of Link’s pink hair in the game, but so it goes — and was thinking I’d play that again before I took on A Link Between Worlds, which uses the same map and is a sequel of sorts. But I’ve never played through Majora’s Mask before and I’m like halfway through with two dungeons done, so part of me feels compelled to finish, even though I’m enjoying it less. I probably wouldn’t want to start again, so it might be now or never. Screw mini-games, though. Really. All of them.
That’s gonna do it for me. I hope you have a great, safe weekend. Hydrate, have fun. If you’re going to KB/ATW, I’ll see you at Brooklyn Steel, and otherwise, I hope you and yours are happy and healthy as the year winds down. Also fuck fascism and its perpetrators. Forever.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 12th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
A new video from Coltaine isn’t such a shock. The post-genre German dark heavy progressives released their new album, Brandung (review here), on Sept. 5 through Lay Bare Recordings, and especially in light of the tour they have coming up in Jan./Feb. with Faetooth, a new clip to keep momentum going makes sense. But Coltaine do things their own way, exclusively. So how surprised should one be to learn that “Mogila,” which raises a sludgy chug from out of a subtly constructed ambient backdrop, vocalist Julia Frasch using a rasping shout that eventually recedes to let the meditative lead guitar hold sway en route to later layered crooning, isn’t from Brandung at all?
Mildly? A lil bit? Egy kicsi kicsit?
Well, less if you’ve dug into Brandung and you recognize “Mogila” isn’t there. The song is recognizable as the hypnotic opener of 2024’s Forgotten Ways (review here), and the ceremonial feel that emerges from it ties into that record’s ritualistic cast. Once that chug gets going, solidified in its march, the song has its pattern to follow, but the prior swirl is more than scene-setting as well, the two sides coming together to create a sound that is atmospheric and primal alike, something which Coltaine have built upon with Brandung.
In addition to the dates below, Coltaine have been confirmed for Freak Valley Festival in June, where I very much hope to be in no small part to see them for the first time (also doom yoga), but if you’re in position to see Coltaine with Faetooth in the next month or two, that’s probably a thing you want to do. The shows are in the UK, Ireland and major Euro markets. I wouldn’t be surprised if they followed with an Eastern Euro run later in ’26 — maybe that’ll be their summer plans and they’ll start off at FVF for all I know — but there’s plenty of time for such things. The upcoming dates are below, should you want to mark the calendar.
I’ve also got the stream of Brandung down there, even though “Mogila” isn’t on it. Year-end list time is upon us, and I know Brandung is on mine. I thought maybe I’d give you another shot at it too. Might make your day if it hasn’t yet.
But first, the video:
Coltaine, “Mogila” official video
Coltaine on “Mogila”:
‘Mogila’ has been with us since the beginning, and now feels like the right moment to give it its own space. It captures the essence of our first album, and we wanted to revisit it visually.
To us, our music is timeless, and we naturally return to certain songs during periods when our connection to them feels stronger. Mogila is a very dark piece that embodies the mood and atmosphere of this darker time of year in which we currently find ourselves.
Coltaine – Mogila Idea & editing: Natascha Stogu Mix and master: Jan Oberg
Special thanks to: Paul Koranyi Maksim Khmelevsky Tim Plaster Mikalai Kapachou Film Archive Austria
Mogila’ (могила) translates to ‘grave’. ‘Mogila’ can be found on the Forgotten Ways album, which was released on Lay Bare Recordings in September 2024.
second half to come. The subsequent “Outside” functions not entirely dissimilarly, with repeated urgings to “go outside” — fair enough, it’s been a while — but has more of a krautrocking rhythm beneath its shoegazy float. This sets up a contrast in “Here and Now,” which begins at a slower roll, becomes more fervent in the drums and thickens the distortion throughout the presumed end of side A.
