I don’t know how many Quarterly Reviews I’ve done at this point, but aside making my wife avoid me for a week, they’re always their own, probably-doesn’t-make-sense-to-anyone-else kind of fun, and it’s an engagement with music that I don’t get in any other way, even doing this site. Some of it feels like the old days in print, with the pile of CDs on my desk waiting to be reviewed for that week’s column, maybe 100 words per (I try to keep it to 150-200 here), with half the challenge going from one thing to the next and not repeating myself. But I don’t really expect anyone to get that. It’s work, but I enjoy it.

Yesterday was killer like Phyllis Diller. If nothing hit you, I hope today’s more your speed. If not, check back tomorrow. I’ll still be here, doing the thing.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Edena Gardens, Quintessence

The fifth album from the instrumentalist amalgam of Causa Sui and Papir, Edena Gardens‘ Quintessence not only references the ordinal relevance but embodies the title’s implication of getting to the very root purpose of the project. Spread across four sides of a 2LP, the 80-minute six-songer is the band’s most open and rawest-feeling outing to-date, and for a project that was ‘supposed’ to produce a trilogy and then everybody goes home, they continue to bring a sense of vibrancy and exploration to their jams. The difference is that here, the songs are longer, there’s less editing involved, and the production, while clear enough to convey the spirit of what they’re doing, feels pointedly straightforward in doing so. And from the willfully, surprisingly Sabbathian “Nigredo” onward, the titles give hints toward their evocations of ground and color, be it “Earth Blemish” or the 22-minute finale “The Vermillion Quintessence.” Maybe not the best place to start with the band, but on the other hand, maybe it absolutely is.

Edena Gardens on Instagram

El Paraiso Records website

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Stone Clones, You Already Know

“You Already Know” is the fourth studio single from New Zealand four-piece Stone Clones, founded in 2021 by the brotherly pair of guitarists Seager and Calum Ray, the former of whom also serves as lead vocalist in harmony with bassist Juan Los B while Dylan Byrne holds the alt-rock-informed-desert push through the chorus toward the particularly post-Homme solo that follows. The lyrics are something of an assessment of modernity and the “you” in question becomes a stand-in for the greed that exploits and ruins the polis of our day. The song runs 6:20 and captures a mood without giving entirely over to it even in that final verse where some of the purported Radiohead influence comes out, and as they continue to grow and work toward a somewhat inevitable debut album, the place they’re making for themselves between styles will continue to hone its own identity through the songcraft they demonstrate here, making heavy sounds and ideas feel light and able to sway the balance in whatever direction they want.

Stone Clones Linktr.ee

Stone Clones on Bandcamp

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Os Solair, Lever/Capra

Comprised of just the two songs “Lever” (7:49) and “Capra” (5:42), this second EP offering from psychedelic depthmakers Os Solair doesn’t shy away from heft just because it’s also creating a sense of space or wash of effects. “Lever” grows more fervent as it goes and “Capra” picks up where it left off, but the Darmstadt, Germany, four-piece are mindful of dynamic and melodicism as well, and apparently recording live in their rehearsal space with vocal overdubs after, they come across as atmospheric and bit noisy but not really chaotic in the sense of not knowing where they’re headed. That is to say there’s a plan at work on Lever/Capra, and that can be heard as the latter cut moves into its more subdued, psych-adventuring midsection, tense enough in the drums to convey the explosion that’s coming but nonetheless a turn from the lower-end weight of the song’s beginning. Molten in its use of effects on guitar and vocals, it’s almost subversively grounded in the rhythm section, but the two sides work together with a fluidity that’s where the band’s real potential lies. I will look forward to what they do next.

Os Solair on Bandcamp

Os Solair on Instagram

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Darren Ironside, The Nothing

The Nothing is the first solo album from former Midnight Whiskey Massacre guitarist Darren Ironside, and perhaps unsurprisingly the guitar leads the way for most of the nine-song offering. Based in the UK, Ironside blends throaty vocals that at times cross over to the metallic over a succession of riffs informed by doom rock, thrash, classic heavy, etc., over what I’m fairly sure are programmed drum progression, and though the mix is raw and pushes the vocals forward, songs like “To the Gallows” carry across a sense of brooding as the shred pervades, complementing the lyrical disaffection of “Forgotten Dream” — a familiar Charlie Chaplin sample there as well — and, on the other side of the noisy interlude “Nebula Rising,” “Overwatch and Control.” The bottom line is Ironside, who also self-produced, is figuring out where he wants his songs to go — or where they want to go, if you’d rather personify — and beginning to shape his own sound separate from his prior outfit and has something to say about the world around him. It’s raw and will come off abrasive at first to the unacclimated, but there’s groove to be had.

Darren Ironside on Bandcamp

Darren Ironside on Instagram

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Sun Voyager, Coming Down

The ad astra per aspera narrative of New York’s Sun Voyager continues with their latest standalone single, “Coming Down,” which arrives scorching as if they knew the summer would be too damn hot and required something duly humid to coincide. No surprise though it’s a burner, and in the ascendance of guitarist Christian “Shaman Smoke” Lopez as a lead vocalist joined by bassist Stefan Mersch — the band is completed by drummer Kyle Beach, reliable and not to be discounted in holding their songs together — here manifests a sense of breakout that is wrought in the reptitions of the title line, sneering with attitude and righteously cosmic. It’s been nearly four years since Lopez joined Sun Voyager after they lost their prior guitarist/vocalist, and the time the band spent woodshedding and nailing down their chemistry is audible on “Coming Down” as well as the prior serve-notice single “Running Hot” (premiered here). I don’t know what it’s leading toward beyond probably an LP sooner or later, but Sun Voyager sound increasingly ready for whatever’s coming. East Coast psych gnarl. Get it.

Sun Voyager website

Sun Voyager Linktr.ee

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Oath, Unteach

Cultish and telegraphing their Iommi worship in their presentation — they’re certainly not hiding it in the music either — Athenian trio Oath reportedly recorded their first full-length Unteach live, and while I don’t know how that accounts for the doubled solos, with one foot in the Hammer Horror of “Alucarda ’77,” and the other in the pastoral “Orchid”ness of “Through the Evergreen Fields,” the band carve a place for themselves in “My Second Life” with a sound that’s as much proto-doom as it is punk as it is metal, and the place it winds up is crushingly heavy in “Soviet Invasion” and the penultimate “Dies Capri” and still plenty heavy but more playful in “Fur, Claws and Leather,” taking influence maybe from earliest Electric Wizard, is satisfyingly individual. That is to say, while you can pinpoint the roots of where they’re coming from, the actual material of the album, raw as it is, is not at all without stylistic nuance. They let the slower tempos manifest foreboding rather than occult theatrics, and that suits the buzz-tone riffs as well. It’s a weird one, but full of purpose in that, and so appreciable.

Oath on Bandcamp

Oath on Instagram

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Automaton, Labyrinth

Somewhere in the gray ether that exists between post- and black metals, Greek unit Automaton harness a grim spaciousness as their Sound Effect Records-delivered third album Labyrinth, retelling the titular mythology in impressionist lyrics throughout as the six-song/46-minute sprawl varies from ripping to crushing and back again. “Ariadne” and the prior “Minotaur” hone a thickened viciousness, while the 12-minute “Black Sails” is a more ambient delve, building in its second half to a march ahead of the cavernous interlude “Your Bull Nature Clouds Your Human Self” — perhaps a thesis for the record — before the blastbeats resume in closer “Battle in the Labyrinth.” The story is allegorical (duh) and the telling is relevant in theme as well as aesthetic, but the gnash stands on its own as well in its fury and satisfies in terms of the plot as well as in execution. Much to its credit, even as it follows a linear narrative, at no point does Labyrinth feel like it’s subsumed songwriting to that, and each piece fleshes out with a patience correspondant to mastery.

Automaton website

Sound Effect Records website

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Witch Ripper, Through the Hourglass

Ultimately, it’s the poise here that makes Witch Ripper‘s third album so lethal, and if you’ve seen the band likened to Mastodon somewhere along the way, the Matt Bayles production probably has something to do with that, but the Seattle progressive riff metallers conjure their own feeling of space across the seven included songs. I’ve said on multiple occasions that part of what’s kept me from being a fan of this band is the kind of unthinking misogynist implication of their moniker, but there’s no denying either the growth they’ve undertake between albums or the sense of accomplishment overarching Through the Hourglass as a manifestation of their approach that they’ve been working toward all the while. Alternating between shorter and longer songs highlights the structural variety on display, and the shifts between clean-sung and harsher vocal styles gives purpose and drama to the procession from one piece to the next, with closer “The Spiral Eye” seeming to take cues from the likes of Blood Incantation in its leads while providing due culmination to the encompassing entirety prior. They’ve always meant business and they still do.

Witch Ripper on Bandcamp

Magnetic Eye Records store

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Hostile Tides, Dead Man Talking

Self-releasing UK apparent-newcomers Hostile Tides offer their first EP in the five-song/17-minute Dead Man Talking, taking a double-guitar approach to heavy instrumentalism that’s pretty clearly in the process of shaking out where they’re headed in terms of style but that just the same conveys their setting forth on that progression. Chunky-style riffing in the centerpiece “Adrift” feels like it’s got some ’90s crunch, but it’s kind of hard to tell if that’s the rougher edges of the recording showing through an initial outing or something purposeful on the part of the band, or both, considering the way the song turns to a dreamier midsection with the bass holding to ground while the guitars branch out into atmospherics. Tonally more Karma to Burn than Russian Circles, they make the divergences a strength and a distinguishing factor, and the five-minute capper (the EP works shortest to longest) “Peaks” hints toward a burgeoning patience of craft. They could go just about anywhere from here.

Hostile Tides on Bandcamp

Hostile Tides on Instagram

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Johnny Tirade and The Circle of Futures Past, What is at the Beginning of Eternity, the End of Time, the Beginning of Every End, and the End of Every Place

When Dublin’s Johnny Tirade and The Circle of Futures Past labels themselves as “stoner industrial-tinged,” I think they’re talking about the Ministry-esque push of opener “Hey Man” and the overarching tonal crunch (maybe also the drum machine) more than the acoustic guitar in near-17-minute centerpiece “Memory Hole” (also sax) and the concluding “Improv,” but one way or the other, that self-applied tag hardly encapsulates the weirdo gamut of the band’s cumbersomely-named 31-minute debut album, What is at the Beginning of Eternity, the End of Time, the Beginning of Every End, and the End of Every Place. But it’s part of it. There’s an earnest experimentalism at play in the songs as each of the five tracks wants to and does head to its own destination, but the more you hear “Lizard Johnny” or the samples and spoken verses of “American Dream” (prececed by “Fuck the…” in the chorus; fair enough), the more they make their own kind of linear sense, and as a showcase for what the band/project might become, the plunge undertaken in these tracks is an encouragingly odd fit for any number of square-hole genres in which one might try to shove them.

Johnny Tirade and the Circle of Futures Past on Bandcamp

Johnny Tirade and the Circle of Futures Past on Instagram

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Hi and welcome to the Summer 2026 Quarterly Review. Every day this week I’ll be posting a round of 10 reviews to total 50 by Friday, rounding up recent releases, stuff I’ve missed, etc. There are a few things in the mix that aren’t out yet that I’m going to sneak in (shh…), but it’s entirely possible I’ll be doing this again next month or in October, so, you know, sit tight. My hope is that you find something to hear you haven’t heard before, or at very least have your opinions validated on whatever it might be.

Without further ado, we roll.

Quarterly Review #1-10:

Goddess, Ritual of the Cloven Hoof

Based in Sweden and signed to Majestic Mountain Records, Goddess are an offshoot of 2010s-era doomers Goatess and feature guitarist/vocalist Karl-Martin Buhre and drummer Kenta Karlbom from that band alongside guitarist Anders Martinsgård (Black Solstice) and bassist John Jansson in the revamped, renamed four-piece on their six-track/37-minute doom-chugging debut album, Ritual of the Cloven Hoof. Sort-of-debut album? I don’t know how you want to classify it, but either way the point is doom, and Goddess inherit a penchant for massive riffs and forlorn spaces as songs like “To Be King” and the eight-and-a-half-minute “Born Again Heathen” begin to define a character that is their own within the genre, the latter leaning a bit into doomedelic jamming ahead of the closer “Devil’s Reef,” which returns to ground in reliable fashion with deceptive vitality in its push. It’s no coincidence they sound like they know what they’re doing, because they do, but their Ritual is also the beginning of a new exploration, and holds all the more potential for that.

Goddess on Instagram

Majestic Mountain Records store

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Irata, Human

A new Irata album isn’t something that happens all the time, and fair enough. Some bands need to live before they write songs about it, and that’s not sarcasm or criticism for how much heart the North Carolinian trio put into their music. Human, while only their fourth LP since 2007, comes seven years after 2019’s Tower (review here) and starts out duly moody to suit the times in “Altar” and the bassy “Confessions,” but the swaying highlight “Seeds” finds a way to inject more energy into the delivery without sacrificing atmosphere, and though they hit into speedier fare in “Mirrors” or the penultimate “Goodside,” they do so while maintaining a patient progressivism, which leads to the masterful unfolding of capper “Daystar” across two linear builds, the latter of which ends the Human on a fading rumble. While maintaining a current of raw expression, Irata are able to conjure expanses in their sound. A J. Robbins mix doesn’t hurt in that effort, but it wouldn’t work if the songs didn’t run as deep as they do.

Irata website

Small Stone Records website

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Gutward, I

Oh hell yes. Indonesian stoner doomers Gutward bring about a lumber that’s a sure reminder of what dragged me onto this wretched lifepath to start with. Huge, immersive grooves, airy but discernible vocals — that actually have something to say about the world around them; bonus — and a sense of space and outreach that is at once free and encompassing. I is their first release following the 2024 single “Mauna Vedanā,” and its five-track/35-minute course is less about innovation than celebration, reveling in the largesse of march at the end of “What’s With the Rush?” or the addled vastness in “Mass Delusion” and hopefully-foretelling-of-things-to-come melodic showcase “Rot Alone” ahead of 12-minute capper “The Messages,” which is heavy enough for whatever you need flattened but holds firm to its tempo gruel and the melody established by the song prior. My only problem with the record is I can’t figure out which label I want them to sign to most, but either way, I is easily among the best debut albums I’ve heard this year. I look forward to hearing where they go from here.

Gutward Linktr.ee

Gutward on Instagram

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Smokemaster, In the Temple

A six-years-later follow-up for the potential wrought in their 2020 self-titled debut (review here), Smokemaster‘s In the Temple is in coversation with the breadth of modern psychedelia and the friendly melodies of ’60s pop-psych alike, and the Cologne outfit manage to make even a mover like “Do it Again” feel like a quiet, intimate moment, while pieces like the title-track and “Electromagnetic” feel less concerned with heft than float, and “Down in the Salt Mines” hones a wash that turns the extended solo in its back half to an utter triumph brought to heel in favor of a quiet last verse. Acoustic guitar, organ, effects, breathy vocals, clever layering — all of these elements serve the needs of the songs, and the songs have more range for them, but the underlying structures are a strength as the harmonies in “Citrus Leaves” demonstrate before they bring the album to an effectively stirring resolution. It’s the kind of record that might make your day better.

Smokemaster website

Tonzonen website

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Bantoriak, Vol. II

At the core of Bantoriak is Izio Orsini from Rancho Bizzarro, who in 2015 debuted the project with Weedoism (review here) and all its attendant weirdness. Vol. II follows suit 11 years later — what is time? — but finds Orsini working with a range of guests, from Sergio Chotsourian (ex-Los Natas, etc.) on the lumbering post-intro plunge “Blu Bus,” to members of Vesta, Supernaughty and Zen Circus, resulting in a could-go-anywhere vision of meditative heavy psychedelia. There’s throat singing on “La Muerte del Sitar,” while “Ritualism” finds the sitar very much alive and droning, “Kairot” lets the guitar scorch a bit, and “Liquid Brain” feels like a lost jam from The Heads. The last four minutes are dedicated to the ethereal noise of “Karpura,” with the later reaches lost to distant shouts and a consuming sound that might be running water. A lesson in how to be in-genre and still totally on your own wavelength.

Bantoriak on Instagram

Argonauta Records store

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Troy the Band, (Des)

While I don’t envy any band the task of distinguishing themselves in London’s underground scene, which is arguably the most packed-with-riffs of anywhere the world over and has been at this point for some time, the manner in which Troy the Band meet the challenge head on with their second album (Des), following on from 2024’s debut, Cataclysm (review here), with a collection that finds the trio of guitarist Sean Burn, bassist Sean Durbin and drummer Jack Revans answering the departure of vocalist Craig Newman by including a breadth of guest appearances. The penultimate “Adoration of Ill Luck” features Ana-Maria Terr Bordei, whom they’ve since welcomed as their new permanent singer, and her command over the massive groove there honed is enough reason why, but only one among a slew of highlights that include the immediately preceding “Memory Glowing,” with Peter Holland (Elephant Tree, etc.) and Kay Elizabeth (Black Orchids), and the screaming volatility of “Nothing” or “Choke.” There’s a lot happening in any individual cut, but the root instrumentals tie it all together and make (Des) an engrossing journey of a listen.

Troy the Band website

Troy the Band Linktr.ee

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Burning Sister, Plunge b/w Fadeout (Live)

I know the focus on the new Burning Sister two-songer, Plunge b/w Fadeout (Live), is supposed to be the A-side, the new studio track and the ‘gaze vibes therefrom, the steady roll brought to bear for just under six minutes, hypnotic and full in its unrolling, hinting toward psych but staying true to the band’s stated intention of being ‘Mile High Downer Rock,’ bassist/vocalist Steve Miller and drummer Alison Salutz exploring and finding a plane between atmosphere and impact, but don’t sleep on the B-side either. This live interpretation of “Fadeout,” which opened the band’s 2023 Get Your Head Right EP (review here) when they were a trio but here becomes a showcase of fuzz density, nod and ’90s druggery. I suppose there’s no wrong answer between the two cuts, but “Fadeout (Live)” makes an easy comparison point for the Denver two-piece’s continuing excursion into the outer bounds of heavy weirdness, and even better, I suspect that’s why it’s included in the first place. For more, see their 2025 LP Ghosts (review here), and yeah, I really mean that you should.

Burning Sister on Bandcamp

Burning Sister on Instagram

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The Heavy Eyes, Focus

Focus is an aptly-titled six-years-later return and fifth album overall from Memphis heavy rockers The Heavy Eyes. Issued through Magnetic Eye and Kozmik Artifactz — the latter of long association — the 11-song collection swings and reaches out and puts its focus on the songs themselves, which are taut, well composed, and able to make a four-minute slab like “It’s All Simone” feel like an epic reach even as it takes its place in the overarching flow of the material. That might be experience or maturity coming through — they hit 15 years since their debut in 2026 — but with shades of All Them Witches in the vocals, a gleeful tonal swamp in “Corporal Upham” ahead of the fuzz-bluesy “That Cold Goliath (Might Return),” and hooks to spare throughout, The Heavy Eyes remind that so much of the appeal in the first place was their ability to cohesively take on a range of elements and fuse them into a single stylistic statement. The self-awareness with which Focus would seem to have been made hinders this not in the slightest. Heads up, rockers.

The Heavy Eyes on Bandcamp

Magnetic Eye Records store

Kozmik Artifactz website

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For Eons, Collide

Atmospheric heavy psychedelia presented across five duly broad tracks comprises this impressive debut full-length from Vienna-based trio For Eons, and Collide both has intricacy in the now and speaks promises of things to come in its sprawling sound, patient in centerpiece “Depths of Time,” excitingly prog-fuzzed in opener “Old Friend,” and righteous in the payoff of the eight-and-half-minute “Echoes of the Past,” the vocal melody in the latter putting the band in league with the likes of The Machine or the still-missed Sungrazer while the clearheaded tones in the start-stops of “Million Voices” and the will to drift in closer “From the Jungles to the Cities” (which has its own start-stops toward the finish) harness a sense of progressivism without feeling overly indulgent so much as engaging the listener on more than one level. The title speaks of smashing things together, and maybe that’s how the band experiences their music, I don’t know, but from the listener’s standpoint their songs are more fluid than they might at first seem.

For Eons on Instagram

StoneFree Records store

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Rödtjut, Framtiden var bättre förr

Classic Swedish hard/heavy rock from the second Rödtjut full-length, Framtiden var bättre förr, with a songwriting that pushes toward the proto-metallic in “Rödögd blåtira” (and elsewhere) but balances that out with, say, the flute in “Vår tid” or the organ-inclusive mellowprog fluidity of eight-minute instrumental closer “Efter stormen.” It’s in Swedish, obviously, and I’m ignorant of the language, but the chug of “VMA” transcends gerunds, and as they demonstrate with the leadoff title-track, a hook is a hook regardless of what the syllables actually mean. The lead guitar in “En plats som vi inte förstår” has a bit of fuzzy stank on it, but by and large the intention is toward straight-up hard rock of the later-’70s variety, though somebody in this band likes Judas Priest, and that’s reasonable. This is my first exposure to Rödtjut, who have apparently been through some lineup changes since their debut in 2023, but the straightforward approach suits them and the songs hit a stylistic sweetspot, so you won’t hear me complain.

Rödtjut on Bandcamp

Sound Effect Records website

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The Witching Buzz Records tribute to Sleep, dubbed Cathedral of Smoke and featuring an international roster of 10 bands, will be released tomorrow, Aug. 7. And a lot of what you need to know about it is told by the tracklist — the bands involved, what songs they’re playing, when they’re from — but as the California-based label follows its 2025-’26 tribute compilations honoring Kyuss and Ozzy Osbourne, they’re beginning to build a stable of acts. For example, France’s Poste 942, who here tackle “Hot Lava Man” from the 2022 Third Man issue of Dopesmoker, previously appeared on both other tributes, while Abel Blood, who open Cathedral of Smoke covering “Giza Butler” from Sleep‘s 2018 studio comeback, The Sciences, was on the Ozzy tribute, as was solo singer-songwriter Dee Calhoun (ex-Iron Man, etc.), who here provides a respite from the tonal largesse with a hard-strummed Western take on “From Beyond” from Sleep’s Holy Mountain, harmonica and all.

Notably, Cathedral of Smoke is shorter than either of the two prior Witching Buzz tributes, with 10 tracks included instead of 20 or 22 for Kyuss and Ozzy, and that leads one to believe the label is thinking of an eventual physical release, which obviously would introduce a time constraint. Nonetheless, as Buzzards of Babylon revel in the classic call-to-worship of “Dragonaut” early in the proceedings, you wouldn’t say the comp is missing anything. Some reinterpretations are more dramatic than others. Calhoun‘s is up there in terms of making the song his own, and the closing acoustic take on “Aquarian” from New York arthouse doom weirdos Shadow Witch works effectively to a similar standard. The growling, lumbering manner in which Italian stompers Owls Over Oaks dig back to 1991’s Volume One for a gurgling death-sludge perspective on “The Suffering” also belongs on that list, and these divergences are welcome amid the many rolling nods on offer, though whether it’s the noise of When the Deadbolt Breaks‘ interpretation of “Holy Mountain” or Serpent Kiln‘s raw but still melodic “Catatonic,” it’s not like anybody is trying to carbon-copy what Al Cisneros and company sound like. Greece’s Fuzzing Nation might come closest to that mark for the vocal delivery in “Marijuanaut’s Theme,” but there’s enough going on around it, including the instrumentalist jam on “The Botanist” from Lizzy that follows, that it never feels egregious or like anything less than the homage it is.

No, nobody takes on the 2026 Sleep singles “Have Spacesuit Will Travel”or the newly unveiled “The Morrisist,” and one suspects that’s because no one knew a new record was coming, or that Sleep would be making news this year with a sans-Matt–Pike lineup, but apparently that’s the timeline we live in, and it does nothing to detract either from what Cathedral of Smoke is doing or what it’s celebrating, which is the influence that Sleep has had across two generations and 35-plus years of riffs. These kinds of tributes were more of a thing in the aughts, assemblages of bands trying to get their names out or just to do a thing in the days prior to the whole-album ‘reduxes’ that have been more de rigeur since the 2010s. But being oldschool doesn’t hurt Cathedral of Smoke in the slightest, and as glaringly obvious as one would be, to my knowledge nobody’s done a Sleep album redux, so fair enough. The highlights here are plenty, whether it’s the bass tone in “Dragonaut” or that backwards guitar/maybe-organ/whathaveyou Shadow Witch employ for flourish in the midsection of “Aquarian,” the sheer grit and gnash of Owls Over Oaks or “Hot Lava Man,” which has the distinction of being the only song here-presented that I’d never heard before. So I got Poste 942‘s gallop-into-space-then-float interpretation before the original, which is an odd but resonant kind of fun, as far as I’m concerned.

And to expand on that point, obviously as release like Cathedral of Smoke is speaking to the converted. Those outside the subculture are neither going to understand nor care about how the lurch in “Catatonic” compares to the original, but that’s part of the intent here as well. Genre speaking to itself, celebrating itself and past accomplishments with fresh takes. It’s not a new idea, but at a time when the conversation has been forced into wondering what and who is Sleep and what typifies one of stoner metal’s most defining sounds, these bands step up to provide an answer that’s likewise expansive and entrancing in its plod. Sleep were a thing before the memefication of the heavy underground, before notions of the ‘weedian’ or their own coined ‘Iommic life’ existed, and the band’s effect not only on the conversation but the language used in it extends to the sounds conjured here in their honor, but at the end of the day it’s riffs on top of riffs, and as far as that kind of thing goes, there are precious few outfits who ever did it better. Cathedral of Smoke is a work of worthy, fun, relevant and due idolatry.

The tribute streams in its entirety on the player below, followed by more from the PR wire in the blue text. Please enjoy:

Witching Buzz Records will release Cathedral of Smoke: A Tribute to SLEEP digitally on August 7, 2026. The compilation features 10 international artists paying homage to the legendary stoner/doom pioneers Sleep, reinterpreting material drawn from across the band’s influential catalogue.

The release brings together a diverse selection of artists from the USA, UK, and Europe, each offering their own interpretation of Sleep’s signature sound. Spanning material inspired by the band’s early-era recordings through later-era compositions, the compilation remains rooted in heavy, slow, and atmospheric approaches that have defined and shaped modern doom metal.

Rather than straightforward replication, Cathedral of Smoke focuses on reinterpretation, with each contributor reshaping the original material through their own stylistic lens while preserving the hypnotic weight and psychedelic intensity associated with Sleep’s legacy.

Cover art by Captain Maoos.

Tracklist:
1. Abel Blood (USA) – “Giza Butler” (2018)
2. Buzzards of Babylon (UK) – “Dragonaut” (1992)
3. Dee Calhoun (USA) – “From Beyond” (1992)
4. Fuzzing Nation (Greece) – “Marijuanaut’s Theme” (2018)
5. Lizzy (USA) – “The Botanist” (2018)
6. When the Deadbolt Breaks (USA) – “Holy Mountain” (1992)
7. Owls Over Oaks (Italy) – “The Suffering” (1991)
8. Poste 942 (France) – “Hot Lava Man” (2022)
9. Serpent Kiln (Netherlands) – “Catatonic” (1991)
10. Shadow Witch (USA) – “Aquarian” (1992)

Cathedral of Smoke: A Tribute to SLEEP will be available exclusively in digital format via Witching Buzz Records. Follow the label’s Bandcamp page for updates and release notifications.

Witching Buzz Records website

Witching Buzz Records on Bandcamp

Witching Buzz Records on Facebook

It was seeing Abronia that got me out, straight up. Prison and Vague Plot, I didn’t know either of them — and this was Prison’s record release, so the lameness is on my end, to be sure — but I’ve been writing for nearly a decade about Abronia and going on about how unique their sound is in psych and heavy Americana and so on, and this was the first time they made it so far east from their home in Oregon. And as it was an afternoon show (4-7PM) with no cover to boot, the barriers to my seeing this band were as low as they were ever going to be, and even though it was Sunday and I’d gone out Friday and had a good time, the urgency was there to make the trip into town.

Plus, I had a ride. I’d been talking earlier in the week about how much I wanted to see the show and The Patient Mrs. hearing that and hearing as well the underlayer of how much I loathe driving to/in New York, offered transport. The Pecan came too. It was a hard get-out-of-the-house, but those will happen.

My first time at Mama Tried, and my first time seeing all three of these bands. That felt like an immediate win, and I was there early for the early start in the back yard area of Mama Tried. It was hot in the sun but I was okay at a table in the shade, and I watched Vague Plot’s soundcheck before the show itself started. I hadn’t heard them prior but for like 30 seconds which doesn’t count, but even from that I knew most of what they do is live and at least partially improvised, so I figured this would be the right context to be introduced anyhow. By the time 4PM hit, they were already jamming as a soundcheck with traffic up on whatever highway that was for a backing drone. Some more people came but there was a break before the actual start. I was antsy, for a change. My wife and daughter went to a park.

The outdoor stage was kind of a courtyard and pavilion, with a slanted, transparent roof over wood lattice, a couple sheets taped up to cut the light and heat on stage, I’d imagine, and a wood deck leading to the concrete wall of the next building behind whatever amps are stacked on the little ledge, I’d say precariously but it was fine. Tables and chairs were set up on a concrete patio, like a hang out spot, family joint, kind of a hideaway, which I enjoyed. I made myself say hi to Abronia, against my general inclination, and nobody told me to get it, so I’ll say that went well.

The show started soon enough, and man, was it awkward to take photos. Like, you’re the only one standing and also you’re me. I’ve had nightmares like that. I grabbed a couple shots like the middle-aged blog-having loser I am and sat the fuck down, feeling my age but enjoying Vague Plot, who reminded a bit of mid-aughts Elektrohasch-type jamming — sax put me in mind of Hypnos69 — prioritizing guitar and atmosphere but making it happen organically. Abidingly mellow, proggy and heavy born more of the bass and drums than the guitar tone, which was adding the dubby float to the plotted-seeking procession. They busted a kick pedal but had another in seconds and there was no stop in momentum from there. They looked like they could go for hours. Sirens went by.

At one point I looked up amd bees were dancing with flowers, which seemed like an endorsement, but things got more Floydian, even as Vague Plot built around that core groove, keys taking over where sax left, or the guitar turning down-home sweet and classy. They seemed like a band who probably like different kinds of music from each other but who apparently agree on enough to function as a band. I dug it and wondered what their studio stuff could sound like.

Quick changeover clearing the stage and then Abronia and their very large drum — aptly called Big Drum, steered by Robert Grubaugh — got going. Fronted by Keelin Mayer, who handles sax (and flute, though that didn’t make an appearance) in addition to singing, with James Shaver and Eric Crespo on guitar (the latter also backing vocals), Rick Pedrosa on pedal steel, Danny Metcalfe on bass and Grubaugh behind thumping away, they were a curious proposition in a setting with so much concrete, but I’d waieted a long time to see them and I was super-glad they made the trip. Brooklyn was fourth on the tour behind Columbus, Pittsburgh and Baltimore, the band supprting their 2026 album, Shapes Unravel (review here), and I marvel at the logistics involved in getting six humans to do anything, let alone journey to the other side of the continent together and play a killer set, so yeah.

Granted, I would have earlier if given the opportunity, but watching them play, the way their sound conjures expanse, I wasn’t sorry to be seeing them now for the first time. The new-album stuff was fresh in my head, and they hit it, some heavy prairie vibes and Mayer’s command topping it all. With sax in and out, a thread continued from Vague Plot, but Abronia brought their own kind of tension, nighttime, outdoors, more wolves than traffic, but the setting made it all the more of a trip, and the depth that their albums have always carried came through and the sense of dynamic, intermittently volatile, was even more palpable while the Big Drum held the groove. They get called psychedelic, by me too, but I’m not sure they’re that so much as they are spacious and explorational. I’m really, really glad I had the chance to see them. I hope it won’t be their last trip east.

Prison played last, honoring as noted their new record, Big Rigs on the BQE. Paul Major of Endless Boogie in the lineup, my understanding was their lineup varies by show, but they played as a six-piece, which hardly made it seem like anybody could be missing. The listed stop time for the show came and went before they were underway, but it was their party and I think it was an imaginary curfew, not that any aren’t. Two guitars, bass, drums, plus hand percussion and keys, they were into the jam almost before the set even started, and I don’t know if they were making it up on the spot or not, but the vibe was locked in and the vibe was there. Some added effects, pedals manned offstage, effects swirling this way and that, sometimes jazzy but always rooted in rock. I’d believe it if you told me they made it all up on the spot. It had that could-go-anywhere feel, no less the second time the bowl-of-shells shaker came out, and the effects manipulation of the vocals was another level of freaked out. Persistently weird, and enjoyable for that as well.

The drums took a breather at maybe the halfway point but they were all back at it soon enough, a little more cosmic but maybe it’s all groove either way. Some more uptempo moments in the reaches and at any moment it was all about a hair from derailing, but Prison kept it together with a due sense of fuckery and I left hoping it wouldn’t be the only time I ran into them. I had wondered if the crowd in front would stand for the last band, but people stayed seated, which meant I didn’t realize how sweaty I’d gotten until I moved again to head out. The Patient Mrs. picked my sweaty ass up and carted it and the rest of us home. Would I have made it there on my own? Probably, but I sat in the back seat while tired The Pecan snuggled into the side of my left arm and that was just fine too.

—

It was super-weird taking photos. Very weird. I didn’t want to get in the front and stand because I would’ve been in the way, even for just a minute, and the crowd was mellow but everybody had their phone out and I try not to be the asshole screwing up everybody’s video so I can get my shot, like it’s so frigging important me and my bigboy camera. Screw that. I got what I could from the sides and a little ways back. When Keelin Mayer came down from the stage, it made my night. Shades of Sean Clamfight on Friday in Jersey. She also went for it.

Thanks for reading. Go see Abronia if you can, East Coasters. Tour dates are here.

[Click play above to stream 10,000 Years’ Esox Lucifer in full. Album is out this Friday, Aug. 7, on Ripple Music.]

The new full-length, Esox Lucifer, from Swedish trio 10,000 Years, is the hard-hitting Västerås outfit’s fourth album in five years. It follows after 2024’s All Quiet on the Final Frontier (review here) and, as each of their records has to this point, manifests new ideas in their sound, which has grown noisier and more progressive in kind, but mostly just grown and found its own path — the sort that makes a phrase like “prog noise” make sense — as one can hear in the breadth of a cut like “Fleur de Sledgehammer,” or the seagull-esque sounds complementing the album intro “Beasts of the Northern Wild,” suitable to the cover art and the album itself, the title of which plays off esox lucius, which a species of pike fish.

And if the band still had as much influence from High on Fire as their 2020 self-titled debut EP (review here) or subsequent debut album, II (review here), one might be tempted to wonder if the pike isn’t a reference to Matt Pike, but the sound of Esox Lucifer reveals this notion as ridiculous. At one point or another, all three current members of 10,000 Years were in a band called Pike, and as far back as 10 years ago, there was discussion of their recording a new album called Esox Lucifer.

Whether this eight-song/35-minute collection is the same album which that group was working on back then, I don’t know, but over time, 10,000 Years have refined their approach to be both more individualized and so that it encompasses more than any single influence could hope to convey. To wit, the Fu Manchu careen with which “Pursuit Special” picks up from “Beasts of the Northern Wild,” made punkish with the shouting vocals of bassist Alex Risberg, joined in the band by guitarist Erik Palm (who also engineered, save for the drum recording, which was helmed by Andreas Morén, while Robert Lamu of Skraeckoedlan mixed and Magnus “Devo” Andersson mastered) and drummer Alvin Risberg — all of whom were in Pike at one point or another — and builds momentum going into “Fleur de Sledgehammer,” which, still with plenty bash-away on offer, shifts into a dreamier back end, spoken/sampled vocals accompanying before the guitar turns to post-metallic squibblies and the solo that finishes. “Church of the Red Museum” is the presumed finisher of side A, and a return to ground after the back half of “Fleur de Sledgehammer,” focusing more on the noise rock aspects of 10,000 Years‘ style, a steady groove holding for the five-minute duration, and while it does get more spacious later on, the intent is clearly toward intensity rather than expanse, and the ending section of “Church of the Red Museum” feeds into that as it makes its way into the fadeout.

This isn’t the most stark example of dynamic that Esox Lucifer presents, but that in itself exemplifies how far the band have come and the subtle balances they’re able to adjust from song to song, as well as the overarching push of the album taken in its entirety. Side B’s start with “Alien Tactics” is pointedly down-to-business, and while the album doesn’t quite fit in the box of a back-and-forth in terms of tempo or stylistic delve, there is a definite shift in character toward the thrashy, double-kick drumming, open verses giving way to heads-down gallop and all.

A scorcher, and by no means 10,000 Years‘ first, but effective in leading with a sense of directness into “Two Million Stones,” which wants nothing for crunch but eases the forward thrust to sit back on the groove just a bit while keeping tension in double-time hi-hat during the verses and the taut cycles of riff around which those verses are constructed. Like “Alien Tactics” before it, there’s shred to be had in the solo, but the big wash at the finish culminates in a stop and the momentum carries them into the penultimate “Paranoidium,” in which they bring their full tonal brunt to bear, with a float overhead but terrestrial chug beneath and the vocals somewhere in the middle, maybe overwhelmed, surrounded by it all, but using that energy.

Like “Pursuit Special” or “Church of the Red Museum,” “Paranoidium” works in the band’s established balance of space and crush, seeming to unify the varying sides of what they’ve done to that point into a single crux. That this happens ahead of the closing title-track, which for all I know might have started to come together as a Pike song for their intended LP of the same name, and is at the very least a culmination for side B to that point, “Alien Tactics” and “Two Million Stones” finding a kind of resolution in “Paranoidium” before the seven-minute “Esox Lucifer” caps with its own procession, led into by fuzzy bass and drums before the guitar enters the fore of the mix as part of the first-minute intro, soon consumed by more metallic leaning chug crush and a cleaner-sung verse with backing shouts and a rawer, pushier hook. A nod emerges from this beginning, and they cycle through again before a bridge gradually pulls toward more atmospheric instrumentalism — is that a Mellotron or just a guitar effect? it could be a Mellotron — but it’s telling that the last minute or two of “Esox Lucifer,” rather than an all-go blowout for the more pummeling elements, is spent dwelling in the reaches the song has cast.

Esox Lucifer might ultimately be a parable of the band-between, as 10,000 Years‘ progression has brought them to a place where sludge metal, heavy-and-sometimes-progressively-so rock, thrash as noted and various other niches blend together to create a sound that is aggressive but broader in mood than just pissed off. At their rawest they are nasty, but the three-piece cover a deceptive swath and have never sounded more cognizant of the multifaceted nature of what they do. This gives Esox Lucifer a feeling or purpose for being what it is, that however long it took them to get there, it’s what they wanted it to be, and their delivery carries all the more force for that.

10,000 Years, “Two Million Stones” official video

10,000 Years on Bandcamp

10,000 Years on Instagram

10,000 Years on Facebook

Ripple Music website

Ripple Music on Bandcamp

Ripple Music on Instagram

Ripple Music on Facebook

Dingbatz is an institution in North Jersey metal, and may it outlive us all and the forces of suburban luxurycondofication be forever vanquished. It was Friday night and it had been a start-strong-heads-downhill kind of week, so I was ready for the volume when it hit. Four bands on a Friday, it wasn’t gonna be an early night, but I got to see friends and that was no less welcome than the riffs that ensued.

But really, the place is a treasure. And I’ve seen some killer shows here. Here’s how this one went:

The Crooked Skulls

Tonight started with The Crooked Skulls, who organized the show and had family in the crowd. That’s wonderful and I mean it. Not the first time I’ve seen them, and I dug last year’s Midnight Sun (review here), and since when I saw them the first time was last September, and that was before I’d heard the album, the difference was in knowing the songs better. They revel in the Big Riff in a way that makes them a lot of fun to watch, and the Dingbatz lights were on point. The band are growing, geling in some of the slowest parts, and you can hear them putting together that chemistry between the three of them. The proverbial killer leadoff for the evening.

Precious Blood

My first experience with the New York trio, whose dungeon-stoner-meets-garage-black-metal-rock, three vocals and all, was an intriguing proposition. They were also, it should be noted, having a good time. And the shred, my goodness. They’re following the riff, midtempo, maybe on the low end of midtempo, then a snap and it’s blastbeats and a solo tearing it up. The twists suited them and they each took a turn on mic between songs, which seemed to me probably something they’ve considered. Their sound was likewise worked on, and the first impression was strikingly positive. Like I would go home and check out the record they released last Fall. Horror punk, but like grown up weirdo metal too? It was a hell of a blend.

Thunderchief

Well, the 11 months since I saw them last did nothing to dull the pummel of Richmond, Virginia, two-piece Thunderchief, who have a new record out in With Hatchet, Pike, or Morning Star… and have been on the road accordingly since the first of July or some such madness. This past weekend they were at No Gods No Masters in Portland, Maine, and they weren’t done after this show, but they were in the home stretch. They played like a band who’ve been on the road for a month with only the odd Tuesday off, only more furious, with Rik Surly’s tonal torrent piping through a full bass rig in addition to the full stack for his guitar and Erik Larson level to him on the other side of the stage, down off the riser, just beating the everloving shit out of his poor drums. And Surly’s vocals, that I-could-do-this-all-night-and-be-good-to-go-tomorrow natural scream, were once again vicious. They destroyed, no bullshit all go, and cut off at the end, broke down the gear and were gone. Hot damn what a band. I told Surly he was a monster after and I meant it as a compliment.

Clamfight

I missed their 20th anniversary show because I had covid, but I’ve known the Clamkings for the better part of those two decades and holy smokes were they a blast. Not to mention following up after Thunderchief, who leveled me, but they did their thing, with Joel and Louis on stage left and Sean losing his goddamn mind on stage right. They opened with a new one and then dove back for older stuff, shouting a song out to me and my former bandmate John Eager, who lives near the venue and came out to the show and whom it was a pleasure to see, and that kind of gave the end of the night a nostalgic vibe, as heavy and aggressive as “Fuck Bulldozers” is. It had been a few years since I saw my them hit it last and I was happy to again. They’re a band I remember doing shows with in like 2006/2007, and they were always awesome, always so cool to hang out with. It was doing a show with your friends. My band broke up, but the Clam-I-Ams stuck it out and now their families are family. It’s beautiful. You know, I’ve always seen myself as the guy who’s there for the music, put your head down, keep working, but I’ve been lucky to know some pretty incredible people in my time. And don’t get me wrong, I like the Clamgentlmenses’ new stuff too, but those are good memories. And yeah, Sean came down off the stage to rip it up in the front for a few minutes. He went all out. It was rad. I missed these guys.

—

It felt like a quick night and the air was warm when I walked out to my car. I got to see some good friends at this one, and then on top of that the music was good and every band hit it in their own way. I love North Jersey heavy shows.

Thanks for reading. More pics after the jump.

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Cycles in the Infinite Dream is the sixth standalone Rezn — also stylized all-caps: REZN — full-length in nine years, and since there hasn’t been word of a recorded-at-the-same-time follow-up, like when they put out Solace (review here) in 2023 and Burden (review here) in 2024, the nine-song/42-minute collection is also how they see themselves across the line of their first decade as a band. It’s been an adventure, to say the least, and throughout their now-six albums, the Chicago outfit have maintained a root stylistic statement — taking the generational penchant for heavy tones and lush melodies to a place of their own with pointedly textured arrangements of synth/keys, lap steel guitar, etc. — while continuing to try new ideas and angles of approach.

This remains true on the Greg Norman-produced Cycles in the Infinite Dream, which with shorter-on-average songs than on the aforementioned two prior LPs, feels in parts like it’s making a grounded turn while staying true to their signature ethereal float. The four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Rob McWilliams, bassist Phil Cangelosi (also rainstick), drummer Patrick Dunn and multi-instrumentalist Spencer Ouellette (synth/keys, lap steel, sax and flute) are still exploring, which is to say they still sound like they’re growing, and their tonal crush has yet to find so vivid a manifestation as it does here in pieces like “Cloudfall,” which was the album’s first single and the riff of which had me thinking Mastodon despite the song’s dreamy, lap-steel-infused finishing stretch, or side B leadoff “The Vessel,” which while also just over four minutes long, makes the chugging march of its verse soar in the chorus before it’s decidedly-less-dreamy slamming end.

Being heavier and more direct seems to have been an intention in the construction of the songs — perhaps they were thinking of playing live, which tends to lead in that direction because the shorter your songs are the more of them you can play in a set; the impression of directness is almost a byproduct — but whether it’s the result of a conscious choice on the part of the band or not, it allows Rezn to sound dynamic across the span of Cycles in the Infinite Dream, as the twists of opener “Rites of Passage” give over to a chug that would be a mosh part but for the sci-fi tale the synth weaves around it.

But whether you tag them as ‘doomgaze,’ in the parlance of our times, or progressive stoner metal, heavy psychedelia or even post-metal as the Isis-style central riff of “Transient” postulates, they remain one of the most identifiable acts of their generation. McWilliams‘ vocals are part of that, and the soul and emotionality in his voice comes more to the center mix-wise (Alex Farrar mixed, Zach Weeks mastered, Jacques de Beaufort did the cover art) on Cycles in the Infinite Dream than it has before, riding the volume swells of “Aerial Birth” and the penultimate “Primal Thread” — which just might be titled in honor of its bassline — and able to reside in the open space of a verse with an ease that would seem to have been wrought by maturity.

That maturity can also be seen in Rezn‘s seeking of balance throughout, and the low-key careful manner in which they employ their arrangements. Ouellette has always been crucial to the worldmaking side of their sound, so that’s nothing new, but the way the lap steel is employed across Cycles in the Infinite Dream, showing up at the end of “Cloudfall” almost as an afterthought that becomes a preface for the greater digging in of “Escher” on side B, which practically twangs in its own fog-psych way, carried along smoothly by Dunn‘s drumming. The crush as well leads Rezn into conversation with themselves here, and while I won’t say their sound is void of indulgence, that’s always been part of the point too, even as their refinement has brought them to this comparatively upfront place in terms of their delivery.

“The Vessel” might be superlative in terms of sheer heft — and with “Cloudfall” earlier and the ending of “Primal Thread” to follow, it might not; you can get out the scales if you want — but in terms of character, it is Rezn‘s own, and unmistakable for that. The difference is in how the band use the space they’re creating. That blowout saxophone solo in the first half of “Transient,” or the violin and cello — by Natalie Frakes and Ómkara Gil, respectively — that show up in the two-minute side A-capping interlude “Devotion” and return again in seven-and-a-half-minute album finale “Terra Preta,” are emblematic of a continued will toward expansive stylizations, but Cycles in the Infinite Dream manages to be mindful of these things without seeming hackneyed in the rollout.

This is to say that Rezn‘s growth as a band, while feeling intentional on their part, goes beyond the superficial, and even the fluidity that’s characterized their work for the last nine years has found a new shape over time (liquids take the shape of their container, so I’m not mixing metaphors here). But they seem to have learned from the stated crux of Solace and Burden, in terms of one being focused on the more meditative aspects of Rezn‘s sound, offering comfort, while the other took a more intense tack, and this material feels like a payoff and arrival point for that procession; bringing multiple sides together in material that is willfully cohesive even as it seems to melt the room around you.

The inevitable question is where Rezn go from here — is this a peak? — but that’s been consistent since the outset and the group have managed to evolve all the while without losing sight of their prior-noted core tenets. Cycles in the Infinite Dream is a sprawl, as it invariably would be, but what it encapsulates is ultimately a moving target, and it may be that a couple years from now what Rezn want to capture on a recording could change. I can’t and won’t predict, but if you’re someone who’s followed the band over the last nine-plus years or got on board between then and right now reading this sentence, it’s difficult not to think of it as a payoff for the band’s progression to this point. Dark at times but no less vibrant, and consuming, it is wholly realized.

Rezn, Cycles in the Infinite Dream (2026)

Rezn, “Cloudfall” official video

Rezn on Bandcamp

Rezn on Instagram

Rezn on Facebook

Sargent House website

Sargent House on Bandcamp

Sargent House on Instagram

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Brad Frye will release his debut solo album, Reverberations From the American Southwest through his own Desert Records on Aug. 7, and yes, you should take the title literally. While it’s his first solo outing, the 39-minute 15-tracker isn’t Frye‘s first foray into drone, as his duo Droni Eye Omi released the studio outing Liminal Mass (review here) and a subsequent live album in 2025. But for Frye, who’s best known as the guitarist/vocalist of desert doom rockers Red Mesa and who last I heard had moved out of the American Southwest from whence these reverberations come, the mission and experience of making the record is obviously crucial.

Easy enough to imagine Frye with the guitar, amp and a pedal board in the car, driving out into the desert around Albuquerque, finding his spots and hopping out to do a bit of self-recording. Making it up as he goes. Maybe taking note of where he was so he could remember for song titles later. Some of what’s captured on Reverberations From the American Southwest has outside noise — it’s listed below, but with the birdsong and such, there’s no attempt here to remove the art from the landscape that inspired it and in which it was made. To do so would be ridiculous. That noise is part of what Reverberations From the American Southwest is built on, and as Frye strums morose Morricone-isms in “Ghosts Along the Bosque” — not to mention the cleverly titled “The Good, the Brad and the Ugly” — and brings a minimalist creep to the later “Crossing the Malpais,” it is central to the atmosphere that in turn is central to the album.

“The Good, the Brad and the Ugly” is one of the longer pieces at 3:38, and most of Reverberations From the American Southwest clocks in at the two-to-three-minute range, while only the penultimate “Upon the Bones Cholla Cactus Sat Vultures” tops four. Immersion happens regardless of how long a given piece is, from the rumble and sprawl of “Cactus Wrench” and “The Immense and Bloodslaked Waste” through the harmonica interludes “Three Gun” and “Stone Hut,” placed for departure one on each side. And even that stark arrangement shift doesn’t necessarily pull the listener away from the collection’s evocations of place, so much as add a human element to them. The careful strum of “Celestial Skies” just before “Three Gun” gives over to a quiet rumble and “Three Gun” reminds that there’s life all throughout that barren-seeming landscape while giving preface to “Desert is as Desert Does,” which is among the more active inclusions and which you’ll find premiering on the player below.

According to Frye, the title “Desert is as Desert Does” comes from a Red Mesa review on this site. I’m not lying when I say I can’t find it. I checked all the reviews, and there were plenty to check. No dice. Maybe it was with a video or a news post or something, I don’t know. It sounds like something I’d say, but I’m not going to take credit for it without confirming I did. There’s still like three or four blogs left in this podcasty age, and I’m not looking to step on toes. In any case, it pairs well next to “The Good, the Brad and the Ugly” in the album’s cinematic middle, and stands on its own without giving away too much of the ambient sprawl that Reverberations From the American Southwest casts. Again, the key is immersion, and “Desert is as Desert Does” represents just a sliver of the world the album unfolds.

You’ll find it on the player below, followed by more from the PR wire. As always, I hope you enjoy:

Brad Frye is known as the owner of Desert Records, founder of Red Mesa, and half of the duo Droni Eye Omi.

In the spring of 2025, Brad Frye set out to self-record his first solo album. Armed with a Reverend baritone guitar, a Fender Champ tube amp, a solar powered generator, and a pedal board, Frye hiked out to remote locations around Albuquerque, NM.

Frye set up a Zoom H6 recorder to capture the ambient natural sounds of the New Mexican landscape. Birds, trains, rivers, wind, insects, and animals are heard throughout the songs.

Drone meets spaghetti western. Partially composed, but mostly improvised, this is hypnotic and mesmeric instrumental electric guitar music.

100% recorded outside in the high desert…. A love letter to New Mexico.

Tracklisting:
1. Cactus Wrench
2. The Immense and Bloodslaked Waste
3. Ghosts Along the Bosque
4. The Raven Sees All
5. Merciless Sun
6. Celestial Skies
7. Three Gun
8. Desert Is As Desert Does
9. The Good, the Brad, and the Ugly
10. Crossing the Malpais
11. Drone of the Spotted Towhee
12. Temazcal
13. Stone Hut
14. Upon the Bones Cholla Cactus Sat Vultures
15. Gila

Releases August 7, 2026 on Desert Records.

Written, Performed, Recorded, and Produced by Brad Frye
Guitar, Harmonica, and Field Recordings by Brad Frye
Mixed by Ronaldo Baca at Orange Cat Studios
Mastered by Alan F Jones at Laminal Audio
Photos by Diego Pani

Brad Frye on Bandcamp

Brad Frye on Instagram

Brad Frye on Facebook

Desert Records store

Desert Records Linktr.ee

Desert Records on Bandcamp

Desert Records on Instagram

Desert Records on Facebook