Quarterly Review: Witchcraft, Perfect Buzz, Smoke Rites, Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean, Slow Draw, Capacopter, Monovoth, Pimeyden Harha, Wild Fuzz Trip, Gavran
Posted in Reviews on March 19th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Feeling dug in, which I take as a good sign. There’s been a decent portion of this QR that’s catching up from last Fall onward, and I would’ve liked to cover some of that sooner, but honestly I struggled to find a week-plus to do this and lost an additional month by the time I did. So if you’re like ‘duh this is old’ to some of it — there are also releases that aren’t out yet — I apologize. In 10 years it won’t matter that whatever it was came out last October.
On that happy note, back to it.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
Witchcraft, A Sinner’s Child
Sweden’s Witchcraft follow their 2025 full-length, Idag (review here), with the five-song EP A Sinner’s Child, which runs a similar, if condensed, gamut, from founding frontman Magnus Pelander‘s solo acoustic folk to lumbering, heavy doom and points between. Pelander plays all the instruments on rolling opener “Drömmen Om Död Och Förruttnelse,” the minimal guy-and-guitar “Even Darker Days,” and the morosely weighted “Själen Reser Sig,” while the full-band title-track “A Sinner’s Child” and its closing alternate-lyrics companion-piece “Sinner’s Clear Confusion” are defined as much by the emotive blues of the vocals as by the wistfully strummed electric guitar that accompanies. “A Sinner’s Child” is between the two sides of “Själen Reser Sig” and “Even Darker Days,” sound-wise (it’s before them in the tracklisting) and underscores that it’s not just the extremes that Pelander/Witchcraft inhabit, but the intricate places between as well. I don’t know if it’s leftovers from the record or filler or what, and I don’t care. Just happy it exists and the band are making music, thanks.
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Perfect Buzz, Happy Trails
Well, Portland and post-punk, so yes, Dead Moon are a factor, but PDX trio Perfect Buzz keep the songwriting tight and headed in their own, vividly rocking direction. The punk roots come out in “Here Come the Cowgirls,” with a shimmer in the guitar that’s unexpected, particularly after “You’re Wrong” was so sure of itself pounding its titular chorus into your head, but the heavier opener “Mess Around” sets a heavy-alternative expectation, and even the proto-grunge riffing of “Gonna Make U Sweat” is drawn under that umbrella. If you see them compared to Mudhoney, that’s probably why. But “Gonna Make U Sweat” is also the longest song at 3:28, and nothing else tops three minutes, so it’s not like Happy Trails is wasting anyone’s time. Instead, Perfect Buzz‘s debut EP showcases varied intent brought together by sharp, clearly-nobody’s-first-time-at-the-dance craft. Each of the four tracks sets out to do, and does, something different, while adding depth to the persona of the band, still being shaped but already a good time.
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Smoke Rites, Eager Eyes of Talion
Raw sludge metallers Smoke Rites offer visceral and disaffected doom on their second full-length, Eager Eyes of Talion, marked by the forward-in-the-mix gritty vocals of Tomasz Mielnik, whose harsh-throated shouts, growls and divergences into clearer singing top the weighted, rolling processions of guitarist Łukasz Borawski, bassist Adam Ziółkowski and drummer Michał Kamiński, resulting in a suitably filthy sound. It’s dark-themes-for-dark-times in “Golden Road,” the title-track and the chugging “Nothing Never,” and certainly “Death is a Five Letter Word” and “Wind of Most Cruel Kind” aren’t offering much in terms of comfort. Even the interlude “Charas Drift” is brought to a harsh place, but Eager Eyes of Talion stays grounded in the muddy shove of “10ft. Dread” and the comparative loll of “Devil’s Advocate,” and doesn’t feel like it’s hading out any more punishment than is due. In a mad world, madness feels reasonable. Here we are.
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Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean, Let Us Not Speak of Them But Look and Pass On
Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean uphold a long Massachusetts legacy of extreme sludge, and the four-song EP, Let Us Not Speak of Them But Look and Pass On, is duly facepeeling. Obviously “An Abundance of Mercy,” the nine-minute opener, is ironically titled. Mercy doesn’t really apply in the post-deity gnashing void the band portray, abrasive and churning. The lead cut is a slower assault where “Upheaval” is faster and more outwardly violent. “An Adornment of Light” might take home the prize for the lyric “I can show you/Just how broken/A wing can be,” if not for its seven-minute succession of massive lumber and throatripping screams or the ping ride in the last minute, like it’s marking the steps to where you jump in the volcano. Speaking of, “Execution” closes with a summary made more volatile for smashing elements together, but across the board, it’s a litmus test for how much noise you can take, which, since you’re alive today, is obviously more than any people at any other time in history could, so yes, have at it.
Chained to the Bottom of the Ocean on Bandcamp
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Slow Draw, Is it Death Metal or Sadness
This might be genius. Hurst, Texas, solo experimentalist Mark Kitchens (also Stone Machine Electric) offers 11 sub-minute-long — the longest track is Hugging Curbs at 41 seconds — snippets, song ideas, root melodies, and tossoffs on Is it Death Metal or Sadness. Most are voice-based, but like opener “Big Dipper Little Dipper,” “Lynda and Her Celery,” “Almonds and Pistachios” and “Steven Lee Hall Junior” and “In the Pharmacy,” most have some synth or percussive accompaniment, and for most the lyrics are basically the titles. Maybe the most telling of all, centerpiece “Banana Time” — the lyric, “It’s banana time in the kitchen” — sounds like it was probably thought up while Kitchens was getting a banana. Five-second closer “Season My Eggs” — “I forgot to season my eggs, yeah-heah,” in a rocker voice — is likewise true to life. The reason this might be genius is because it reflects the ways music interacts with your daily life. Maybe you do sing a little song while you’re getting a banana, or get a hook in your head like the multi-layered “3 and 7” out of nowhere. It’s the sense of spontaneity captured. It turns out neither to be death metal nor sadness, and that could hardly be more fitting for the project.
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Capacopter, Capacopter
Once they start rolling out that fuzz, there’s little stopping (and why would you?) German heavy rockers Capacopter who, working under influence from early Queens of the Stone Age via modern forerunners Slomosa, present their self-titled first LP with all due electricity and grooving intent. Hooks abound as in opener “600 Years” and the desert-airy “Caravan,” and they keep structures pretty straightforward for the eight-song duration — has Noisolution heard this? — but there’s some branching out in “Half’n Inch” at the start of side B, and “JP’s Horse” and closer “Wandering Stones” take time for atmospherics as well, while “Kings and Crowds” and “Temple Son” are, on balance, more direct, though songwriting is a factor front-to-back. The album ends up being a mix, and there are highlight stretches in the quieter moments as well, but as a statement of intent, Capacopter posits them as rockers, and fair enough. An encouraging and promising debut album. There’s growing into themselves to do, but there’s also time to do it.
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Monovoth, To Live in the Breath of Worship
Dense to a point of opaqueness at its heaviest, but able as well to shift into and through ambient passages, Monovoth‘s To Live in the Breath of Worship feels emotive without words and finds the despondent post-metallic Buenos Aires solo-project exploring tense and grimly progressive reaches. The third LP in five years from multi-instrumentalist Lucas Wyssbrod, it doesn’t shy from extremity in “Crimson Red Wound” or the blastbeaten-until-it-drones-in-apology 16-minute closer “To Drown in the Tears of God” (there is a human voice there), but is no more defined by that than the subdued bleakness of its stillest moments, nor is it overly predictable in the movements between those two sides, or unipolar in how it executes one or the other. This variability, flexibility, allows “Cosmically Orphaned” and earlier opener “From a Dying Star” to tell a similar story in different ways, and makes the album as a whole a more complete, immersive experience. It’s also noisy as hell, and that helps too.
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Pimeyden Harha, Aika
Opening cut “Kronologia” (8:32) is the shortest of the three inclusions on Pimeyden Harha‘s severe-cast, wholly-doomed full-length debut, Aika, by about half. The subsequent “Rauha” (16:01) and “Entisöijä” (19:27) render the opener as lead-single fare, but rest assured, the solo outfit has plenty of doom to go around, whether it’s longform or, you know, sorta-longform. Lyrics, and somehow also the instruments, are in Finnish, and most of what keeps Aika from being death-doom is the melodic chant of sole-denizen/multi-instrumentalist J. LaCoin‘s vocals. Tempos are mostly a crawl, but “Rauha” lets you know up front it’s going to thrash out at the finish, and yes, it does, and there’s a bit of pickup in the later reaches of “Entisöijä” as well, but the bulk of the record is willed as a morose plod, and the atmosphere is accordingly grey. To its credit, however, Aika holds firm to its intent and doesn’t veer from its path as the songs play out; the most divergence happens in “Koronologia,” and it’s brief. That’s not to say Pimeyden Harha comes across as unipolar, just that it’s a sound crafted with a goal in mind. As a debut, one might call it foreboding.
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Wild Fuzz Trip, Fuzz Transmissions
The only real question going into this debut album by Spain’s Wild Fuzz Trip is whether or not the five tracks on Fuzz Transmissions live up to the billing. Are they, in fact, a wild fuzz trip? Well, yes. Whether you’re dug into the mellow midsection of “Big Grey” or the more uptempo boogie into meatier riffing that happens over the course of centerpiece “Galactican Twilight,” the double-guitar troupe — here guitarists Miguel A. Marañón and Diego López (also keys), bassist Andy Shardlow (Josiah) and drummer Suso Valcárcel and Martin Ludl on the sax in closer “Nebula Groove” — are right there with you, and though they’ve been a band for eight years and this is apparently their first LP, the surety of their going speaks to the slew of EPs and single releases leading up to it. They neither wasted their time nor waste yours as the listener, bringing their ambition to life in an expansive sound one hopes will continue to flesh out.
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Gavran, The One Who Propels
Breadth and crush, expressive human intimacy and instrumental expanse, post-metallic chiaroscuro, etc., however you want to frame Gavran‘s The One Who Propels, the Rotterdam four-piece find their niche in style with a sound that basks in its multifaceted nature across five longer-form cuts, each of which plays out with a balance between two-plus sides, melodically sung here and abrasively screamed there, conveying emotion in the lulls of “Brod” as much as the next-level-obliteration that kicks in for (about) the final minute of “Okreni.” “Zora” and “Pogon” both start very, very heavy, but even there, a change in the vocals provides distinction amid tonal consistency, and Gavran are served across the 59-minute span by their attention to detail in terms of arrangement as well as the depth of mix which sometimes they seem to occupy to a point of spilling out, only to recede again and let the next melodic contemplation hold sway. The resulting entirety is viciously affirming as it leads to 16-minute capper “Plutaju,” which methodically encapsulates the course of the album while continuing to carve its own place.
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