There are no credits included with Phantom Glue’s self-titled Teenage Disco Bloodbath Records debut. Just lyrics and artwork. Usually when a band does this kind of thing – the most prevalent example I can think of when it comes to willfully withholding information is Black Cobra, but lots of acts do it – you’re not missing much. Recorded by their friend in a basement, blah blah, thanks to the bands we play with, blah blah. In the case of Phantom Glue’s Phantom Glue, however, the Boston, Massachusetts, outfit recorded with Converge’s Kurt Ballou at Godcity Recording Studio in Salem, had the record mastered by Nick Zampiello, and guitarist/vocalist Matt Oates handled the disturbing album art himself. One would think they’d want this information out there. Why attach names of the caliber of Ballou and Zampiello to a project and then not tell anyone about it?

Craziness!

The chief audio comparison point for Phantom Glue is going to be High on Fire all the way. Oates and bassist N. Wolf (who also contributes vocals) are rougher in their delivery than latter-day Matt Pike, and the music sometimes launches into Sunlight Studios-style death metal guitar theatrics (as on “Brainbow”) with Oates and fellow guitarist M. Gowell duking out harmonics in the grand Entombed tradition. They also mark Electric Wizard as a comparison point, I think for the slower moments on the record, like the first half of closer “Scabman,” the title track, or perhaps most appropriately, “Blacktar,” which is legitimately centered around a riff that’s pure stoner doom despite the bombastic chaos happening around it.

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Ah, Roadsaw. Perfect summertime rock, and that’s about where it’s at today in the valley. Not that I’d know because I’ve been sitting inside in front of the computer all day, but it looks lovely out the window and all reports from the grand outside are in accord. Cool shit. And Roadsaw. This is “Who Do You Think You Are” filmed live at SXSW 2009. R.I.P. Room 710 in Austin.

What a week. Man, what a week. I don’t think I need to do a summary, but man, what a week. It’s good to be home, good to be getting back into the swing of things, good to eat Jersey pasta for dinner last night before crashing out. No complaints.

Stick around next week because I’ll have my interview with Keith Gibbs from Sasquatch posted, a butt-load of reviews (gotta make up for lost time) and hopefully some killer news about those Obelisk shirts I know we’ve all been waiting for. In any case, be well, enjoy your weekend wherever you are, and thanks, thanks, thanks for reading. I bow to you.

Universally-bearded Allston, Massachusetts outfit Black Thai have posted their first self-released demo for free download through their website. The demo, available as 320kbps MP3s (a band after my own heart – down with digital compression), holds about a 7” worth of material, just two songs, but nonetheless gives a readable impression of the band’s mission at least as it was in their beginnings, before replacing drummer Kyle Rasmussen with Roadsaw’s Jeremy Hemond, who also happens to play in Cortez with Black Thai founding guitarist Scotty Fuse.

Fuse gives a more riffingly metallic bent here than he does with Cortez, but it’s a change you really have to listen to hear. That is, if the six-stringer found himself having to pull double-duty at a show the two bands were playing together, he wouldn’t have to feel awkward because one band was so out of place sonically with the other. Still, with different heads involved in each band — vocalist/guitarist Jim Healey (We’re all Gonna Die) being a central departing factor, but bassist Cory Cocomazzi also having a style all his own — they’re never going to sound exactly the same. Nonetheless, Black Thai play grooving riff-centered stoner metal exclusively (anyone who gets the Emperor reference feel free to pat themselves on the back) and both “The Ladder” and “Satan’s Toolshed” get down to business with some righteous heaviosity, owing some of their crunch to the Massachusetts scene of the ‘90s – let’s namecheck Only Living Witness for good measure – but keeping things in stoner line by nodding at Kyuss’ “Asteroid” from Welcome to Sky Valley with the opening of “Satan’s Toolshed.”

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1:26AM: Made it into the valley about an hour ago. Not bad time. The Patient Mrs. did her undergrad in Waltham, MA, which essentially means I can do the Masspike-to-84-to-91-to-95-to-287-to-287 (the highway so nice you have to drive on it twice) thing with my eyes closed. Helpful in situations such as tonight, when I basically did.

I still have Solace songs stuck in my head after the drive. They were finished with “Disillusioned Prophet” when I left, 9:20PM by my watch, and were talking about starting tomorrow with “The Immortal, the Dead and the Nothing,” since it’s the longer and potentially more complicated of the two songs left to do. As for the rest of the night, there was some talk of drinking, some talk of going up the road to see Doomriders, but mostly I think Tommy wanted some ice cream and Justin wanted to not smell anymore. Both reasonable desires.

So ends my in-studio adventure with Solace. I don’t know how done A.D. will be by the time the two guitarists head back to Jersey tomorrow — it’s an album and anything can happen — but of course I wish them all the best with the rest of the work they put into getting it out, and thank them for letting me come up and observe for a bit. Anyone who’s ever made a record knows it can get tedious even in this technologically advanced age, but as someone perpetually fascinated by even the boring parts of the process, I’m happy to witness it whenever I can, whether I’m in the band or not. Thanks again to them as well as Benny Grotto (whose band, Motherboar, I’m looking forward to checking out) and Mad Oak Studios for their hospitality, and to you for reading. Hope you enjoyed it half as much as I did.

7:54PM: A little dinner (okay, a lot of dinner) later and spirits are up. Work is resumed on “Disillusioned Prophet” and universal opinion in the room — that is, mine, Justin‘s, Tommy‘s and Benny‘s — is that the song is kicking ass. I don’t imagine much if anything will be done when this song is “finished,” but given how much work has gone into the two tracks that were worked on today, if I was required to judge one way or the other, I’d say it’s a win.

Still to be done are the songs “The Immortal, the Dead and the Nothing” and “Six Year Trainwreck,” which will likely be tackled tomorrow, but as far as closing out the work this evening, the decision to walk away for a bit and have a bite to eat was definitely the right one. Everyone feels better and as I hear “Disillusioned Prophet” closer to closer to being done, I can easily imagine it being the opener. The song has great energy and sets a good tone for the rest of the cuts (at least the ones I’ve heard so far; unless they go blackened folk metal on the others, it should fit nicely into its intended spot).

My plan is to split out of here in either an hour or so or when this song is done, whichever comes first. Doomriders are reportedly playing down the street at this or that bar, but hitting the road back to Jersey wins. Real life was bound to come back into it sooner or later.

5:35PM: Work has begun on “Disillusioned Prophet,” and yes, that is as ominous as it sounds. The song is set to be the opener of A.D., and for the last two hours or so, Benny has been going track by track — that’s “track” as in the individual layers of instrumentation and vocals making up the songs, not the songs themselves — making sure all the frequencies and whathaveyous are where they should be. At first, he kicked Justin and Tommy and I out of the room, but I cited freedom of the press and wormed my way back in for what he aptly called, “The Boring Part.”

Everyone’s a little tired, a little hungry, a little on edge. By yesterday at this time I had at least three PBRs in me, but more than that, I think all parties involved were hoping today would go a little faster than it has been. Getting “Down South Dog” (or maybe “The Down South Dog Boogie,” I don’t think a final call has been made as regards the title) to where it was supposed to be proved a monumental task, and since it’s the opener, the same applies in an ongoing tense for “Disillusioned Prophet.” The layers of guitar alone — acoustic coupled with electric, solos, harmonies, etc. — could probably take two days to work out.

But that’s mixing, and if my arsty-fartsy black and white photo of a plastic cup and stack of CDs that were on the counter in the lounge proves anything, it’s that downtime can do strange things to people in a given physical space. Tommy spent much of the time working out his restlessness on the Asteroids machine and he and Justin wrote a honky-tonk song in the live room (sorry no video), so there’s that. I have half a headache and could stand a shower, but that’s heavy metal. Earlier on, we all gathered around Benny‘s laptop to watch the over-the-top ridiculousness that is Dream Evil‘s video for “The Book of Heavy Metal.” I imagine when and if that book is ever written, afternoons such as these will be left out in favor of giving space to tits, beer and moshing, but this is how shit really happens. Life is not what you see on VH1 or read on self-indulgent music blogs.

2:48PM: We’ve been asked to leave the control room so Benny can concentrate. Reasonable. When putting together the semi-final version of “Down South Dog,” one of the several hundred of Jason‘s vocal tracks went missing, so there’s some work to be done there. The thing is, these songs were recorded in at least three separate sessions, over the course of more than three years, so a major challenge for Mr. Grotto has been making it cohesive. You know, like an album. Fortunately he seems up to the task.

Miraculously, I fell back to sleep on the floor of the live room this morning. Breakfast was at around 10:30AM at a cafe up the street. Kind of a hippie place, local art on the walls and all that, but not too crowded and not too pretentious — and a killer breakfast burrito goes a long way. Some gorgeous collegiate-types directed us a couple blocks down to In Your Ear Records, where Tommy picked up his fair share of vinyl and then some. I grabbed some CDs that I’ll likely detail at another time.

If there’s anything I’ve noticed in listening to these tracks, it’s the growth. The last five years have not left Solace the same as they were. Even since their last EP, 2007’s The Black Black, the change is audible in the songs. There are rampant harmonies in the vocals and guitars — of course guitars are a central focus since I’m here with the two guitarists — but as much as we’ve been throwing around dick jokes and one-liners about anal beads, there’s no question the process is incredibly important to these dudes.

It’s worth noting these aren’t to be the final final mixes of the A.D. record. Although the tracks are complete in terms of the recording, there’s more to putting it all together. Jason, for example, still has to okay the vocal mixes, and there will probably be another round of tweaks for the instruments as well. But it’s working out and as odd as it is to think of the words “Solace” and “mature” in the same sentence, musically at least there’s a sense that the long time they’ve taken to make this record happen hasn’t been for nothing.

John Arzgarth was here and gone, but it was good to see him however briefly. A sample of his then-infant son is set to open “Down South Dog.” Plans are to head to a dive bar for drinks later, but that probably depends on how much is left to do with these songs. Time’s always a factor. It’s after 3PM now and we’re back in the control room, but there’s still a ways to go. It wouldn’t be doom if it didn’t take a long time.

DAY TWO, 8:23AM: It’s early yet and so far I am the only one awake. I’ve been up for about an hour now and I can hear periodic snoring from the lounge where Justin is sleeping. My campsite was/is in the live room, next to a large translucent blue floor tom. The floor wasn’t all that comfortable, but the acoustics of my night farts were fantastic. I used a sleeping bag I brought along as a mattress pad and covered myself with a blanket provided by the studio. I’d be willing to bet that at one point or another it was inside a bass drum.

Last night’s jam session, of which a clip was posted, went on in progressively drunker fashion until at around 12:30AM it petered into lampooning Gilligan’s Island characters with raunchy Tenacious D-style verses in A minor. The specifics are fuzzy, but I recall something about Ginger sucking leopard cock, if that helps paint the picture. Shortly, Star Trek: The Next Generation came on, and a discussion was had about whether William Riker was “a pussy.” Riker proved his mettle throughout the show, but at the end of the episode, Picard was still captured by the Borg, so I suppose there are arguments to be made on both sides.

The plan for the day as I understand it is breakfast whenever Tommy and Justin wake up, then work on mixing four more tracks when Benny gets here. I’m not sure whether or not they’ll be staying over again and I don’t think they are either. There’s still some Guinness left from last night, so anything’s possible. The snow has stopped and the sun is out now. Could go either way, probably.