Released through Apollon Records amid the anxious hopelessness of June 2020, Kryptograf‘s self-titled debut was and is a deceptively complex outing. It runs a straightforward-enough eight songs and 38 minutes, and on its surface it’s something one would hear starting out with “The Veil” and probably classify the Norwegian four-piece as vintage-minded heavy rock and consider the matter settled. “The Veil” is among the clearest expressions of its own intentions in its new-generation-coming-up interpretations of earliest Witchcraft and Graveyard, but even in that song’s bridge riff, there are shades of doom, and later on, the easy plot essentially gets thrown out the window in favor of a tambourine-laced frenzy solo shove, loosely Graveyard-informed, but more raucous in Eirik Arntsen‘s (also vocals) cymbal work and more definitively fuzzed in the guitars of Vegard Strans and Odd Erlend Mikkelsen (both also vocals). Oh, and by the way, it’s also only about three minutes long.

And yeah, on paper that’s a tempo change, but like in (conceptual more than sonic, but a bit of that too, naturally) Sabbathian tradition, the tempo change does more for the song in the actual listening experience, informing subtly that one song isn’t necessarily going to be one thing, and as Eivind Standal Moen‘s bassline introduces “Omen,” the outward procession creeps forward with now-via-then flourish, reminding distinctly of Copenhagen’s Demon Head on the six-minute track as they proto-doom roll and nod their way toward the nine-minute “Seven.” There are a couple genuine twists as the Bergen-based unit move through their first record, and “Seven” is well placed as one of them. The only way it might work more to shift the listener’s expectation is if they’d put it as the opener instead of “The Veil,” but it gets the job done in contrasting that and “Omen” just fine, and unfurls with flourish born of a yet-unrevealed heavy psychedelic underpinning.

There are flashes of prog as well — largely unavoidable anytime you’re breaking out a mellotron — but the keys and guitars mesh together with a fluidity that hints toward the jam to come, and the band depart earth’s atmosphere with little fanfare and much hypnotic guitar work, spanning channels here and there while the drums and bass join the freakout, gradually parachuting back into the more structured riffing. The effect the departure has is to make the rest of the song feel more open, and as it pushes to the finish, the residual resonance carries over into the ’70s-future-synth that begins “Crimson Horizon,” a still-far-out atmosphere soon crashing into an earthy riff and one of Kryptograf‘s most memorable progressions, a purposeful regrounding on the part of the band that pins down the multifaceted nature of their craft. They can be both these things on their debut, and more besides, since the steady nod and lush vocal melody of “Crimson Horizon” — like a mellower take on modern stoner riffing — leads into the more garage-doom, post-Uncle Acid harmonized hook of “Sleeper,” which is a standout for the album as a whole with its chorus and vague air of danger.

The depth of vocal arrangements is something Kryptograf continued to explore earlier this year on their second album, The Eldorado Spell (review here), but it remains one of an apparent multitude of stylistic assets at their disposal, and as impressive as the playout of “Sleeper” is, it’s not by any means a full summary of the band’s strengths then or now. One could probably fill another post entirely with flowery (floury, if you’re thinking of it as baking bread, which I’m not; carbs) descriptions of the progression of material across side B of this self-titled, with “Crimson Horizon” acting as an album-leadoff-worthy introduction before its upbeat swing or the clarion stretch of standalone guitar that rises out of the crash circa four minutes in, reaffirming the groove they’ll ride to the song’s finish and the start of “Sleeper,” etc., but even in that regard, distinguishing side B from A, the last three tracks of the Kryptograf seem to have a mission of their own. “Ocean” begins with contemplative acoustic strum, Zeppelin-ish, but only because they made it shimmer, and a watery layer of vocals accompanying, taking cues more from the prog rock that took hold after Floyd than from Floyd themselves while lasting only 2:40, the shortest of the song-songs on the record.

In terms of value to the overarching listening experience of the album, “Ocean” and its placement in the tracklisting shouldn’t be discounted just because “Seven” is more than three times as long. The effect of giving the audience a chance to breathe, appreciate what’s just taken place across “Crimson Horizon” and “Sleeper,” while getting set up for “New Colossus” still to come, is crucial. Further, it claims an entire unplugged sonic spectrum as fair game for Kryptograf‘s future work — a notion the band wouldn’t wait long to pay off on opener “Asphodel” from The Eldorado Spell — and offers another avenue through which their longer term growth may or may not manifest. That doesn’t mean they have to do an entire unplugged release at any point however long their tenure may go, but if they wanted to, you wouldn’t be able to call it unprecedented.

But “Ocean” further works alongside the instrumental outro “∞ (Infinite)” to surround “New Colossus” and give that penultimate inclusion a presentation that feels duly earned by its marching early fuzz riff, spacious vocal melody — reminds me of Acid King, if faster — and cymbal-crashing proto-burl groove later as the band touches a bit on a Sleepy nod delivering the title-line, builds and crescendos in a tidy sub-five-minute course. The hums and psychedelic ambience of “∞ (Infinite)” afterward feel like and likely are an afterthought — and actually, if one discounts “∞ (Infinite),” it makes “Crimson Horizon” the centerpiece, which kind of makes sense in terms of how the record plays out front-to-back — but the subdued ending further adds to the scope of Kryptograf‘s Kryptograf, and presages future exploration that, two years later, is already underway.

Throughout this year and probably next and the one after and for however long I keep this site going, I’ve been going back and digging into albums that, because I apparently spent the whole year in a bunker, I didn’t get to review at the time. Kryptograf‘s self-titled was something I kept feeling like I needed to be writing about right up until the second LP was announced. I’ll say sincerely that having now dug into it thusly, I feel like a weight has been lifted. Fortunately I know a god record to put on for that kind of party.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

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Alarm went off at four, kid up at five. I woke up without any real sense of how today was going to go, which is far from a personal preference. To a certain extent, every day brings some invariable degree of chaos, today just more. Family stuff. A lot of it. This afternoon. I’m told it involves bowling.

I could use a shower that lasts as long as I’m thinking watching The Pecan bumper-bowl through however many frames will go, but it’s been a couple days and I’ll settle for whatever I can get. Summer of Pivot. I have pivoted to stink.

Ups and downs the week, usually within like 25 seconds of each other. I’ve informed The Pecan that I’m leaving next week for a few days — that’s Psycho Las Vegas, which I’ll be covering in my addled, harried fashion — and that he’ll be on his own taking care of mommy. He pretty much expresses any emotion, positive or negative, through some manner of violence right now, whether it’s pinching, punching, kicking, headbutting, biting, pushing, etc., so how he actually feels about me going is anyone’s best guess, but I’d say probably he’s less than pleased. Coming home from Freak Valley in June was a fucking disaster, on every level emotional and practical. I’m hoping this goes smoother but not holding my breath.

Precisely the same thing might be said of living into 2023 and beyond.

Speaking of the things we do to survive, I guess going without the antidepressants is going okay? Not great? Not terrible? It’s kind of just life, which is how I think it should feel about a week out from stopping the daily pills. I talked about this last week if you’ve no idea where it’s coming from. I haven’t been crying — except at that one episode of Bluey where Chili’s sister is infertile; that one sure hit home — which last time I tried to go off meds I definitely spent a good portion of the time doing, so that feels like a win. I haven’t really stopped moving this week either though, so maybe that’s part of it.

I don’t know. I’ll keep plugging along and see where I end up. This week was a week. Today has for the last nine hours been and will continue to be a day. The weekend will be a weekend. None of it will be easy, and hopefully none of it will be harder than it should be.

Are these the best days of my life?

I don’t know. Sometimes I feel so fortunate to be surrounded by so much love and other times I want nothing so much as to veer into oncoming traffic. It’s cool though, I hear there are pills for that. Ha.

Gimme show next week. Psycho Las Vegas coverage next week. Before I go, premieres for Howling Wolves, Faith in Jane, Electric Hydra and a full stream and review (I call them ‘fullies’ but only to myself because no one else in my day-to-day gives even the remotest of shits) for the All Souls/Fatso Jetson live split. If you want a preview of that, All Souls already snuck their portion up on Bandcamp. I don’t even care, I’m just happy to have the excuse to write about the bands.

That last will be up Thursday, which is also the start of Psycho, so there you go. I fly back the Monday after. Early, I think, but not as early as I’ll fly back from Høstsabbat in Oslo this October, which I’m already very, very much looking forward to attending as well. That one’s a to-the-airport-right-after-the-show kind of situation. Can always sleep at the gate if need be, and I suspect it will.

But I’m getting off track. Shower now, bowling after? Fun fact about me: I’m the worst bowler in the world. Even with bumpers. I’d be amazed if The Pecan, at four and a half, didn’t whoop my ass in bowling. Good. He could use a win and if I’m gonna lose anyway, it might as well be to him.

Or maybe I just won’t bowl and will spend my time on little-dude-management, which as I may or may not have effectively conveyed in the last four-plus years, is a full-time gig.

Thanks for reading. Great and safe weekend, whatever you might be up to. Hydrate, watch your head, shower when you can. Back on Monday.

FRM.

The Obelisk Forum

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

I don’t know what day it is. The holiday here in the States has me all screwed up. I know it’s not the weekend anymore because I’m posting today, but really, if this is for Tuesday or Wednesday, I’m kind of at a loss. What I do know is that it’s 10 more records, and some quick math at the “71-80” below — which, yes, I put there ahead of time when I set up the back end of these posts so hopefully I don’t screw it up; it’s a whole fucking process; never ask me about it unless you want to be so bored at by the telling that your eyeballs explode — tells me today Wednesday, so I guess I figured it out. Hoo-ray.

Three quarters of the way through, which feels reasonably fancy. And today’s a good one, too. I hope as always that you find something you dig. Now that I know what day it is, I’m ready to start.

Quarterly Review #71-80:

MWWB, The Harvest

It’s difficult to separate MWWB‘s The Harvest from the fact that it might be the Welsh act’s final release, as frontwoman Jessica Ball explained here. Their synth-laced cosmic doom certainly deserves to keep going if it can, but on the chance not, The Harvest suitably reaps the fruit of the progression the band began to undertake with 2015’s Nachthexen (review here), their songs spacious despite the weight of their tones and atmospheric even at their most dense. Proggy instrumental explorations like “Let’s Send These Bastards Whence They Came” and “Interstellar Wrecking” and the semi-industrial, vocals-also-part-of-the-ambience “Betrayal” surround the largesse of the title-track, “Logic Bomb,” the especially lumbering “Strontium,” and so on, and “Moon Rise” caps with four and a half minutes of voice-over-guitar-and-keys atmospherics, managing to be heavy even without any of the usual trappings thereof. If this is it, what a run they had, both when they were Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard and with this as their potential swansong.

MWWB on Facebook

New Heavy Sounds website

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Righteous Fool, Righteous Fool

Look. Maybe it’s a fan-piece, but screw it, I’m a fan. And as someone who liked the second run of Corrosion of Conformity‘s Animosity-era lineup, this previously-unreleased LP from the three-piece that included C.O.C. bassist/vocalist Mike Dean and drummer/vocalist Reed Mullin (R.I.P.), as well as guitarist/vocalist Jason Browning, is only welcome. I remember when they put out the single on Southern Lord in 2010, you couldn’t really get a sense of what the band was about, but there’s so much groove in these songs — I’m looking right at you, “Hard Time Killing Floor” — that it’s that much more of a bummer the three-piece didn’t do anything else. Of course, Mullin rejoining Dean in C.O.C. wasn’t a hardship either, but especially in the aftermath of his death last year, it’s bittersweet to hear his performances on these songs and a collection of tracks that have lost none of their edge for the decade-plus they’ve sat on a shelf or hard drive somewhere. Call it a footnote if you want, but the songs stand on their own merits, and if you’re going to tell me you’ve never wanted to hear Dean sing “The Green Manalishi (With the Two-Pronged Crown),” then I think you and I are just done speaking for right now.

Righteous Fool on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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Seven Nines and Tens, Over Opiated in a Forest of Whispering Speakers

I agree, it’s a very long album title. And the band name is kind of opaque in a kind of opaque way. Double-O-paque. And the art by Ahmed Emad Eldin (Pink Floyd, etc.) is weird. All of this is true. But I’m going to step outside the usual review language here, and instead of talking about how Vancouver post-noise rock trio Seven Nines and Tens explore new melodic and atmospheric reaches while still crushing your rib cage on their first record for the e’er tastemaking Willowtip label, I’m just going to tell you listen. Really. That’s it. If you consider yourself someone with an open mind for music that is progressive in its artistic substance without conforming necessarily to genre, or if you’re somebody who feels like heavy music is tired and can’t connect to the figurative soul, just press play on the Bandcamp embed and see where you end up on the other side of Over Opiated in a Forest of Whispering Speakers‘ 37 minutes. Even if it doesn’t change your life, shaking you to your very core and giving you a new appreciation for what can be done on a level of craft in music that’s still somehow extreme, just let it run and then take a breath afterward, maybe get a drink of water, and take a minute to process. I wrote some more about the album here if you want the flowery whathaveyou, but really, don’t bother clicking that link. Just listen to the music. That’s all you need.

Seven Nines & Tens on Facebook

Willowtip Records website

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T.G. Olson, II

In March 2021, T.G. Olson, best known as the founding guitarist/vocalist for Across Tundras, released a self-titled solo album (review here). He’s had a slew of offerings out since — as he will; Olson is impossible to keep up with but one does one’s best — but II would seem to be a direct follow-up to that full-length’s declarative purpose, continuing and refining the sometimes-experimentalist, sometimes purposefully traditional folk songwriting and self-recording exploration Olson began (publicly, at least) a decade ago. Several of II‘s cuts feature contributions from Caleb R.K. Williams, but Olson‘s ability to build a depth of mix — consider the far-back harmonica in “Twice Gone” and any number of other flourishes throughout — is there regardless, and his voice is as definitively human as ever, wrought with a spirit of Americana and a wistfulness for a West that was wild not for its guns but the buffalo herds you could see from space and an emotionalism that makes the lyrics of “Saddled” seem all the more personal, whether or not they are, or the lines in “Enough Rope” that go, “Always been a bit of a misanthrope/Never had a healthy way to cope,” and don’t seem to realize that the song itself is the coping.

Electric Relics Records on Bandcamp

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Freebase Hyperspace, Planet High

Issued on limited blue vinyl through StoneFly Records, Freebase Hyperspace‘s first full-length, Planet High, is much more clearheaded in its delivery than the band would seem to want you to think. Sure, it’s got its cosmic echo in the guitar and the vocals and so on, but beneath that are solidified grooves shuffling, boogieing and underscoring even the solo-fueled jam-outs on “Golden Path” and “Introversion” with a thick, don’t-worry-we-got-this vibe. The band is comprised of vocalist Ayrian Quick, guitarist Justin Acevedo, bassist Stephen Moore and drummer Peter Hurd, and they answer 2018’s Activation Immediate not quite immediately but with fervent hooks and a resonant sense of motion. It’s from Portland, and it’s a party, but Planet High upends expectation in its bluesy vocals, in its moments of drift and in the fact that “Cat Dabs” — whatever that means, I don’t even want to look it up — is an actual song rather than a mess of cult stoner idolatries, emphasizing the niche being explored. And just because it bears mentioning, heavy rock is really, really white. More BIPOC and diversity across the board only makes the genre richer. But even those more general concerns aside, this one’s a stomper.

Freebase Hyperspace on Facebook

StoneFly Records store

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Melt Motif, A White Horse Will Take You Home

Not calling out other reviews (they exist; I haven’t read any), but any writeup about Melt Motif‘s debut album, A White Horse Will Take You Home, that doesn’t include the word “sultry” is missing something. Deeply moody on “Sleep” and the experimental-sounding “Black Hole” and occasionally delving into that highly-processed ’90s guitar sound that’s still got people working off inspiration from Nine Inch Nails‘ The Downward Spiral even if they don’t know it — see the chugs of “Mine” and “Andalusian Dog” for clear examples — the nine-track/37-minute LP nonetheless oozes sex across its span, such that even the sci-fi finale “Random Access Memory” holds to the theme. The band span’s from São Paulo, Brazil, to Bergen, Norway, and is driven by Rakel‘s vocals, Kenneth Rasmus Greve‘s guitar, synth and programming, and Joe Irente‘s bass, guitar, more synth and more programming. Together, they are modern industrial/electrionica in scope, the record almost goth in its theatrical pruning, and there’s some of the focus on tonal heft that one finds in others of the trio’s ilk, but Melt Motif use slower pacing and harder impacts as just more toys to be played with, and thus the album is deeply, repeatedly listenable, the clever pop structures and the clarity of the production working as the bed on which the entirety lays in waiting repose for those who’d take it on.

Melt Motif on Facebook

Apollon Records on Bandcamp

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Tenebra, Moongazer

Moongazer is the second full-length from Bologna, Italy-based heavy psychedelic blues rockers Tenebra, and a strong current of vintage heavy rock runs through it that’s met head-on by the fullness of the production, by which I mean that “Cracked Path” both reminds of Rainbow — yeah that’s right — and doesn’t sound like it’s pretending it’s 1973. Or 1993, for that matter. Brash and raucous on its face, the nine-song outing proves schooled in both current and classic heavy, and though “Winds of Change” isn’t a Scorpions cover, its quieter take still offers a chance for the band to showcase the voice of Silvia, whose throaty, push-it-out delivery becomes a central focus of the songs, be it the Iommic roll of “Black Lace” or the shuffling closer “Moon Maiden,” which boasts a guest appearance from Screaming Trees‘ Gary Lee Conner, or the prior “Dark and Distant Sky,” which indeed brings the dark up front and the distance in its second, more psych-leaning second half. All of this rounds out to a sound more geared toward groove than innovation, but which satisfies in that regard from the opening guitar figure of “Heavy Crusher” onward, a quick nod to desert rock there en route to broader landscapes.

Tenebra on Facebook

New Heavy Sounds website

Seeing Red Records website

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Doom Lab, IV: Ever Think You’re Smart​.​.​. And Then Find Out That You Aren’t?

With a drum machine backing, Doom Lab strums out riffs over the 16 mostly instrumental tracks of the project’s fourth demo since February of this year, Doom Lab IV: Ever Think You’re Smart​.​.​. And Then Find Out That You Aren’t?, a raw, sometimes-overmodulated crunch of tone lending a garage vibe to the entire procession. On some planet this might be punk rock, and maybe tucked away up in Anchorage, Alaska, it’s not surprising that Doom Lab would have a strange edge to their craft. Which they definitely do. “Clockwork Home II (Double-Thick Big Bottom End Dub)” layers in bass beneath a droning guitar, and “Diabolical Strike (w/ False Start)” is a bonus track (with vocals) that’s got the line, “You’ll think that everything is cool but then I’ll crush your motherfucking soul,” so, you know, it’s like that. Some pieces are more developed than others, as “Deity Skin II” has some nuanced layering of instrumentation, but in the harsh high end of “Spiral Strum to Heaven II” and the mostly-soloing “Infernal Intellect II,” Doom Lab pair weirdo-individualism with an obvious creative will. Approach with caution, because some of Doom Lab‘s work is really strange, but that’s clearly the intention from the start.

Doom Lab on Bandcamp

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White Fuzzy Bloodbath, Medicine

What you see is what you get in the sometimes manic, sometimes blissed-out, sometimes punk, sometimes fluid, always rocking Medicine by White Fuzzy Bloodbath, which hearkens to a day when the universe wasn’t defined by internet-ready subgenre designations and a band like this San Jose three-piece had a chance to be signed to Atlantic, tour the universe, and eventually influence other outcasts in their wake. Alas, props to White Fuzzy Bloodbath‘s Elise Tarens — joined in the band by Alex Bruno and Jeff Hurley — for the “Interlude” shout, “We’re White Fuzzy Bloodbath and the world has no fucking idea!” before the band launch into the duly raw “Chaos Creator.” Songs like “Monster,” “Beep-Bop Lives” and “Still” play fast and loose with deceptively technical angular heavy rock, and even the eight-minute title-track that rounds out before the cover of Beastie Boys‘ “Sabotage” refuses to give in and be just one thing. And about that cover? Well, not every experiment is going to lead to gold, but it’s representative on the whole of the band’s bravery to take on an iconic track like that and make their own. Not nearly everybody would be so bold.

White Fuzzy Bloodbath on Facebook

White Fuzzy Bloodbath on Bandcamp

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Secret Iris, What Are You Waiting For

With the vocal melody in its resonant hook, the lead guitar line that runs alongside and the thickened verse progression that complements, Secret Iris almost touch on Euro-style melancholic doom with the title-track of their debut 7″, What Are You Waiting For, but the Phoenix, Arizona, three-piece are up to different shenanigans entirely on the subsequent “Extrasensory Rejection (Winter Sanctuary),” which is faster, more punk, and decisively places them in a sphere of heavy grunge. Both guitarist Jeffrey Owens (ex-Goya) and bassist Tanner Grace (Sorxe) contribute vocals, while drummer Matt Arrebollo (Gatecreeper) is additionally credited with “counseling,” and the nine-minutes of the mini-platter first digitally issued in 2021 beef up a hodgepodge of ’90s and ’00s rock and punk, from Nirvana grunge to Foo Fighters accessibility, Bad Religion‘s punk and rock and a slowdown march after the break in the midsection that, if these guys were from the Northeast, I’d shout as a Life of Agony influence. Either way, it moves, it’s heavy, it’s catchy, and just the same, it manages not to make a caricature of its downer lyrics. The word I’m looking for is “intriguing,” and the potential for further intrigue is high.

Secret Iris on Facebook

Crisis Tree Records store

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Oslo blues rockers Ole Devil and the Spirit Chasers will make their full-length debut through Apollon Records this September with Apocalypse Blues. It’s a fitting title for the heavy blues rock outfit that first came together during the covid-19 pandemic, born of guitarist/vocalist Ole Teigen‘s oft-divergent musical impulses — he’s currently drumming in Superlynx, released a solo album last year, also on Apollon, has played in the black metal band Den Saakaldte as well as Dødheimsgard, is currently in Midnattsvrede and others; such is the plight of the capable and creative multi-instrumentalist — and one can easily relate to some desire to find comfort in the familiar warmth of classic sounds under those circumstances. Maybe then Apocalypse Blues will be an album for the times. Hard to say for sure, as I haven’t heard it yet.

Before the record-proper shows up, the first single “Long Way Home” finds the band — who very generously abbreviate their moniker as ODATSCH, which is fun — rocking it out live in the studio in the video premiering below. This version of the song is not — repeat, not — the version that will end up on Apocalypse Blues, but it is being paired with that as part of a digital-only two-songer ahead of time. In any case, Teigen, vocalists Anita Antal (also flute) and Ann Christin Willumsen, bassist Artur Gosan and drummer Christian Håpnes Svendsen come across as a band schooled in the style they’re making, but there’s really no attempt being made — at least in the live version of “Long Way Home” — to try to sound vintage. Nor does there need to be. The structure, melodies and groove are classic enough on their own, and one wouldn’t want to risk dulling either the harmonies between Antal and Willumsen, the flourish of psychedelic guitar, or the flute as they appear here.

So while “Long Way Home” as you see it below isn’t the same one you’ll hear on Apocalypse Blues, I wouldn’t expect it to be too far off. It’s interesting to watch the band in the clip in the various split screens, clearly enjoying the process of feeling their way into the bluesy aesthetic. It’s a nascent chemistry taking shape, and there’s a dynamic there worthy of the exploration they’re giving it. This kind of outfit is best suited to the stage, so one wonders how much playing out they’ll ultimately do — not like Teigen doesn’t have anything else going — but consider for a second the put-up-or-shut-up boldness of a group releasing their first single from their first record and instead of doing a lyric video or something say screw it and play the track live. Hard not to respect that, and chops ensue.

Enjoy:

Ole Devil and the Spirit Chasers, “Long Way Home” video premiere

Ole Devil & the Spirit Chasers – Long Way Home

It’s the first single from the upcoming album Apocalypse Blues, coming some time in September.

The single features the album version, plus a live-in-studio version as a B-side – which is the one they made a video for.

The video was recorded in studio Fjærdingen HK 9 january 2022

Mix & master: Ole Teigen, Crowtown Recordings.
Video: Artur Gosan

Ole Devil & the Spirit Chasers are:
Drums: Christian Håpnes Svendsen
Bass: Artur Gosan
Flute/vocals: Anita Antal
Vocals: Ann Christin Willumsen
Guitar/vocals: Ole Teigen

Ole Devil and the Spirit Chasers on Facebook

Ole Devil and the Spirit Chasers on Instagram

Ole Devil and the Spirit Chasers on Bandcamp

Ole Devil and the Spirit Chasers website

Apollon Records on Facebook

Apollon Records on Bandcamp

Apollon Records website

Norwegian classic prog/doom rockers Strange Horizon will release their debut album, Beyond the Strange Horizon, through Apollon Records on May 6. From the opening “Tower of Stone” through the finale “Death in Ice Valley,” the record follows a course born of traditionalism in and outside of Northern Europe. One can hear shades of various landmark acts throughout the album’s eight-track course — they’re not wrong when they call out Black Sabbath and Saint Vitus specifically below; to that list I’d add Reverend Bizarre and Pagan Altar — but even in the layered vocals from guitarist Stig V. “Qvillio” Kviljo on “Tower of Stone,” one can hear shades of modern methodologies breaking through, to say nothing of the bass tone of Christer S. Lindesteg or Kviljo‘s own guitar, or the drums of Camilla Wergeland Anfinsen, which push the opener’s swinging progression right into the Dave Chandler-esque sway of “Fake Templar” like they were shoving riffs off a cliffside into murky waters below. Extra distortion, you say? Don’t mind if I do.

Beyond the Strange Horizon plays out in such fashion, the trio well aware of where they’re coming from and who they want to be for this, essentially the first collection of their career; the three-song Demo MMXVIII from 2018 appearing here reworked in the tracks “Fake Templar,” “The Final Vision” and “Chains of Society.” They’re reorganized and spread throughout the album — it’s not that they’re tacked on for filler, in other words — and as the nodding fuzz of “The Final Vision” picks up from “Fake Templar” before it, the hook of that second track almost daring to soar, Strange Horizon offer a take less definitively retro than that of Trondheim’s Dunbarrow, for example, but still showcase their roots well, ending side A with the longer and more progressive “Divine Fear” in classic LP fashion, giving an almost hypnotic and mournful conclusion to the engaging first-half salvo while expanding on the ideas presented, working in some more melodic flourish and entrancing the audience enough so that the snare that starts “They Never Knew” arrives as an extra snap-to-attention on linear (CD/DL) formats.

The rest of “They Never Knew” is duly brash, rawer than “Fake Templar” in its intention but still holding a swinging groove and a lyric that seems to be rife with doomly condemnation. It and “Chains of Society” together — the latter the last of the three demo pieces to appear on the record — establish a solid momentum for the second half of Beyond the Strange Horizon, longer and plenty dug in as “Tower of Stone” foretold, but moving fluidly all the while. Thus it is that the penultimate “Turning the Corner” is perfectly placed; a sub-four-minute quiet stretch born of “Planet Caravan” impulses but presented earthier, more personal, almost folkish in another context — a song that could just as easily have had a heavy incarnation but unfolds to add texture and atmosphere to the release as a whole. It is ever more righteous backed by the nine-minute “Death in Ice Valley” — which may or may not have guest vocals alongside those of Kviljo — which seeks to summarize what the band have accomplished throughout while still adding to it in terms of the near-psychedelic soloing and outward-seeming, keys-included jam at the finish, Strange Horizon having established the rules of structure and then chosen to break them with suitable aplomb.

In terms of appeal, there’s more than just classic doom happening in Beyond the Strange Horizon stylistically, but that is the ground from which the band are reaching up. This first full-length may prove formative in the light of subsequent releases to come — they certainly sound interested in building on what they do here — but the potential for what may be shouldn’t detract from the accomplishments they’ve already made in songwriting and performance, meeting trad doom head-on with individual drive. I feel like there’s more to say here about the richness of their tones and the subtle divergences there, but with “Divine Fear” premiering below, there’s no shortage of opportunity for you to hear that for yourself.

Order link and whatnot follow. If you’re wondering, “lead-heavy Scandinavian heavy metal” is the translation of what they call themselves. One is not inclined to argue.

Please enjoy:

Strange Horizon, “Divine Fear” track premiere

Preorder: https://orcd.co/strangefinal

Traditional doom metal, or as we often call it, blytung skandinavisk heavy metal! Influenced by Black Sabbath, Saint Vitus, Count Raven, the Finnish scene, the Maryland scene, 60s/70s proto-hardrock, blues and NWOBHM.

Strange Horizon:
Stig V. “Qvillio” Kviljo – Guitar, vocals
Christer S. Lindesteg – Electric bass guitar
Camilla Wergeland Anfinsen – drums on demo and album

Strange Horizon on Facebook

Strange Horizon on Instagram

Strange Horizon on Bandcamp

Apollon Records on Facebook

Apollon Records on Bandcamp

Apollon Records website

Bergen, Norway, classic heavy/progressive rockers Kryptograf release their second full-length, The Eldorado Spell, through Apollon Records on Feb. 25. The follow-up to the four-piece’s well-received late-2020 self-titled debut is preceded by standalone singles made for “The Well” and “Cosmic Suicide,” both of which are included here as well as part of an overhead view of a garden of vintage delights. The sometimes-progressive-leaning outfit aren’t through opening track “Asphodel” before they’ve cut from their post-Witchcraft riffing into an acoustic led frolic nodding toward later-Ozzy Black Sabbath, but it’s ultimately the retro influence that wins out in terms of defining their sound — that is to say, Kryptograf build on the aesthetic pioneered by bands like Graveyard and the aforementioned Witchcraft, more than they try to pretend the last half-century of heavy rock never happened.

Either way you go, The Eldorado Spell is duly captivating for its 45-minute run, and further establishes Kryptograf among Northern Europe’s next-generation retro-ist practitioners in bands like Demon Head, Dunbarrow, Stuck in Motion and so on. While keeping an abidingly organic feel, however, Kryptograf don’t lean on aesthetic to take the place of songwriting. The chugging nod groove of “Cosmic Suicide” is familiar enough sounding as an execution of genre, but “Lucifer’s Hand” dips into more severe atmospherics in its second half, and “Creeping Willow” effectively pays off its early tension in a searing guitar solo later on; traditionalist, to be sure, but engaging that tradition toward its own ends as each piece of The Eldorado Spell makes its presence known while serving the grander purpose of the album as an entirety. Worth noting that at 45 minutes, The Eldorado Spell is actually on the longer end of a release of its style, but the proggier sides of “Creeping Willow” and the title-track — the fluidity with which the latter evolves into a kind of moody pastoralism of interwoven layers of guitar and spoken vocals, for example — account for that differential, and even in the interludes “Across the Creek” and the penultimate, mellotron-inclusive “Wormwood,” the time is not at all misspent.

If anything, the burgeoning patience in Kryptograf‘s sound speaks well of the direction Kryptograf are headed, but they still have the energy in their approach to pull influence from “Chylde of Fire” for the closer “The Well” at the end of side B’s immersive run through cuts like “The Spiral” and the bluesy “When the Witches,” with the latter being about as spacious as the band gets in its extended solo jam sounding improvised in its foundation but moving smoothly back to the chorus just the same. Kryptograf are growing, and that’s audible throughout The Eldorado Spell both in the standout pieces like “Cosmic Suicide” and “Creeping Willow” as well as in how the last three tracks flow one into the next. That growth — something to appreciate in itself, mind you — doesn’t take away from the depth of their craft here, however, and as they continue to develop aspects like the multi-vocalist arrangements and to find their niche between proto-metal, classic doom and progressive rock, the identity they’ve begun to shape will likewise find its form. What matters today is that The Eldorado Spell rocks, but it’s the manner in which it does so that will keep listeners returning to the full-LP experience on offer.

I dug the first record but didn’t get to properly cover it (look for it as a Friday Full-Length in a couple years, I guess), so it’s with marked pleasure that I can host the stream of The Eldorado Spell in its entirety ahead of the release. You’ll find it streaming on the player below, followed by a few preliminaries courtesy of the PR wire.

As always, I hope you enjoy:

Kryptograf is back with their second album The Eldorado Spell, to be released in February 25th on Apollon Records.

Inspired by the heavy sound of the late 60s and 70s, the four old souls in Kryptograf from Bergen, Norway will hex you with their collective vocals, destructive riffs and inventive songwriting.

Kryptograf is an eclectic but fiercely focused addition to the doomy Bergen underground.

Tracklist
1. Asphodel
2. Cosmic Suicide
3. Lucifer’s Hand
4. Creeping Willow
5. Across The Creek
6. The Eldorado Spell
7. The Spiral
8. When The Witches
9. Wormwood
10. The Well

Line-up:
Vegard Strand – Guitar / Vocals
Odd Erlend Mikkelsen – Guitar / Vocals
Eirik Arntsen – Drums / Vocals
Eivind Standal Moen – Bass

Kryptograf, “Cosmic Suicide” lyric video

Kryptograf on Bandcamp

Kryptograf on Facebook

Kryptograf on Instagram

Apollon Records on Facebook

Apollon Records on Bandcamp

Apollon Records website

Bergen, Norway, progressive heavy classicists Kryptograf will issue their second full-length, The Eldorado Spell, on Feb. 25, following up on their 2021 single release for the track “Cosmic Suicide,” which is set to feature as well on the LP. That’s fortunate, because I’ve still got the track on my desktop waiting to write about it from when it came out last year. So it goes. I get to these things eventually.

The four-piece outfit have a new lyric video for the aforementioned track, and that’s nifty for those who’ve been doing a better job of keeping up than I, and The Eldorado Spell will also be their answer back to the warm tones and melodic flourish of their 2020 self-titled debut (discussed here), promising a heavier punch that’s fair enough to expect given both “Cosmic Suicide” and album-closer “The Well,” which was also released as a single last Fall.

For those who (also) like to plan ahead, I already hit up the parties involved and am currently slated to stream the full album on Monday, Feb. 21, with a review. Calendar’s marked for it, so keep an eye out. Till then, here are the details off the PR wire:

KRYPTOGRAF To Release New Album The Eldorado Spell in February

New Single Online.

Kryptograf is back with their second album The Eldorado Spell, to be released in February 25th on Apollon Records.

Old school heaviness from Bergen, Norway – and this time the heaviness has been cranked up even more!

Following up on the success of their self-titled debut album from 2020, Kryptograf’s sophomore album titled The Eldorado Spell takes everything even further back to the 70s.

Inspired by the heavy sound of the late 60s and 70s, the four old souls in Kryptograf from Bergen, Norway will hex you with their collective vocals, destructive riffs and inventive songwriting.

Kryptograf is an eclectic but fiercely focused addition to the doomy Bergen underground.

Artist: Kryptograf
Title: The Eldorado Spell
Format: LP, CD, Digital
Label: Apollon Records
Distribution: Plastic Head Distribution
Genre: Heavy/ Doom Rock
Release Date: 25/02/2022

Tracklist
1. Asphodel
2. Cosmic Suicide
3. Lucifer’s Hand
4. Creeping Willow
5. Across The Creek
6. The Eldorado Spell
7. The Spiral
8. When The Witches
9. Wormwood
10. The Well

Line-up:
Vegard Strand – Guitar / Vocals
Odd Erlend Mikkelsen – Guitar / Vocals
Eirik Arntsen – Drums / Vocals
Eivind Standal Moen – Bass

https://kryptograf.bandcamp.com
https://facebook.com/KryptografMusic
https://www.instagram.com/kryptografband/
https://www.facebook.com/bergenapollonrecords/
https://apollonrecords.bandcamp.com/
https://apollonrecords.no

Kryptograf, “Cosmic Suicide” lyric video

Day four. Fancy pants. Yesterday was the most effective writing day I’ve had in recent memory, which makes today kind of a harrowing prospect since the only real way to go after that is down. I’ve done the try-to-get-a-jump-on-it stuff, but you never really know how things are going to turn out until your head’s in it and you’re dug into two or three records. We’ll see how it goes. There’s a lot to dig into today though, in a pretty wide range of sounds, so that helps. I’ll admit there are times when it’s like, “What’s another way to say ‘dudes like to riff?'”

As if I’d need another way.

Anyhoozle, hope you find something you dig, as always. If not, still one more day tomorrow. We’ll get there. Thanks for reading.

Quarterly Review #31-40:

Dang!!!, Sociopathfinder

It would take all the space I’ve allotted for this review to recount the full lineup involved in making DANG!!!‘s debut album, Sociopathfinder, but the powerhouse Norwegian seven-piece has former members of The Cosmic Dropouts, Gluecifer, Nashville Pussy, and Motorpsycho, among others, and Kvelertak drummer Håvard Takle Ohr, so maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise they get down to serious business on the record. With influences spanning decades from the ’60s-gone’90s organ-laced electro-rock of “Long Gone Misery” and the Halloween-y “Degenerate,” to the rampaging heavy rock hooks of “Manic Possessive” and “Good Intentions” and the “In the Hall of the Mountain King”-referencing closer “Eight Minutes Till Doomsday,” the 12-song/46-minute outing is a lockdown-defiant explosion of creative songwriting and collaboration, and though it features no fewer than six guitarists throughout (that includes guests), it all flows together thanks to the strength of craft, urgency of rhythm, and Geir Nilsen‘s stellar work on organ. It’s a lot to take on, but pays off any effort put in. Unless you’re a sociopath, I guess. Then you probably don’t feel it at all.

DANG!!! on Facebook

Apollon Records website

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Stew, Taste

Following up their 2019 debut, People (review here), Swedish classic-heavy trio Stew offer an efficient nine-song/38-minute excursion into ’70s/’10s-inspired boogie rock and heavy blues with Taste, balancing modern production and its own yore-born aesthetic in sharp but not overly-clean fashion. The vocal layering in the back half of opener “Heavy Wings” is a clue to the clarity underlying the band’s organic sound, and while Taste sounds fuller than did People, the bounce of “All That I Need,” the blues hooks in “Keep on Praying” and “Still Got the Time,” subtle proto-metallurgy of “New Moon” (one almost hears barking at it) and the wistful closing duo of “When the Lights Go Out” and “You Don’t Need Me” aren’t so far removed from the preceding outing as to be unrecognizable. This was a band who knew what they wanted to sound like on their first album who’ve set about refining their processes. Taste checks in nicely on that progress and shows it well underway.

Stew on Facebook

Uprising! Records website

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Nothing is Real, Transmissions of the Unearthly

Are the crows I hear cawing on “Tyrant of the Unreal” actually in the song or outside my window? Does it matter? I don’t know anymore. Los Angeles-based psychological terror rock unit Nothing is Real reportedly conjured the root tracks for the 87-minute 2CD Transmissions of the Unearthly with guest drummer Jeremy Lauria over the course of two days and the subsequent Halloween release has been broken into two parts: ‘Chaos’ and ‘Order.’ Screaming blackened psychedelia haunts the former, while the latter creeps in dark, raw sludge realization, but one way or the other, the prevailing sensory onslaught is intentionally overwhelming. The slow march of “King of the Wastelands” might actually be enough to serve as proclamation, and where in another context “Sickened Samsara” would be hailed as arthouse black-metal-meets-filthy–psych-jazz, the delivery from Nothing is Real is so sincere and untamed that the horrors being explored do in fact feel real and are duly disconcerting and wickedly affecting. Bleak in a way almost entirely its own.

Nothing is Real on Facebook

Nothing is Real on Bandcamp

—

 

Jerky Dirt, Orse

After immersing the listener with the keyboard-laced opening instrumental “Alektorophobia” (fear of chickens), the third album from UK outfit Jerky Dirt, Orse, unfolds the starts and stops of “Ygor’s Lament” with a sensibility like earlier Queens of the Stone Age gone prog before moving into the melodic highlight “Orse, Part 1” and the acoustic “Eh-Iss.” By the time the centerpiece shuffler “Ozma of Oz” begins, you’re either on board or you’re not, and I am. Despite a relatively spare production, Jerky Dirt convey tonal depth effectively between the fuzz of “Ygor’s Lament” and the more spacious parts of “In Mind” that give way to larger-sounding roll, and some vocal harmonies in “The Beast” add variety in the record’s second half before the aptly-named “Smoogie Boogie” — what else to call it, really? — and progressive melody of “Orse, Part 2” close out. A minimal online presence means info on the band is sparse, it may just be one person, but the work holds up across Orse on multiple listens, complex in craft but accessible in execution.

Jerky Dirt on Bandcamp

—

 

Space Coke, Lunacy

A scouring effort of weirdo horror heavy, the five-track Lunacy from South Carolina’s Space Coke isn’t short on accuracy, seemingly on any level. The swirl of nine-minute opener “Bride of Satan” is cosmic but laced with organ, underlying rumble, far-back vocals and sundry other elements that are somehow menacing. The subsequent “Alice Lilitu” is thicker-toned for at least stretches of its 13 minutes, and its organ feels goth-born as it moves past the midpoint, but the madness of a solo that ensues from there feels well cast off (or perhaps on, given the band’s moniker) the rails. Shit gets strange, people. “Frozen World” is positively reachable by comparison, though it too has its organ drama, and the ensuing “Lightmare” starts with an extended horror sample before fuzzing and humming out six minutes of obscure incantation and jamming itself into oblivion. Oh, and there’s a cover of Danzig‘s “Twist of Cain” at the end. Because obviously. Doom filtered through goth kitsch-horror VHS tape and somewhere behind you something is lurking and you don’t see it coming until it’s too late.

Space Coke on Facebook

Space Coke on Bandcamp

—

 

Black Solstice, Ember

Broken into two halves each given its own intro in “Intervention” and “Celestial Convoy,” respectively, the debut full-length from Stockholm’s Black Solstice brings back some familiar faces in guitarist Anders Martinsgård and drummer Peter Eklund, both formerly of Ponamero Sundown. Ember, with flourish of percussion in “Signs of Wisdom,” grunge-style harmonies in “Burned by the Sun” and just a hint of winding thrashy threat in “Firespawn,” is deeply rooted in doom metal. They count Sabbath as primary, but the 10-track/42-minute offering is more metal than stonerized riff worship, and with vocalist “Mad Magnus” Lindmark and bassist Lelle B. Falheim completing the lineup, the four-piece boast an aggressive edge and hit harder than one might initially think going in. That is no complaint, mind you. Perhaps they’re not giving themselves enough credit for the depth of their sound, but as their first long-player (following a few demos), Ember finds a niche that hints toward the familiar without going overboard in tropes. I don’t know who, but someone in this band likes Megadeth.

Black Solstice on Facebook

Ozium Records webstore

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Dome Runner, Conflict State Design

Begun as Paleskin before a probably-for-the-best name change, Tampere, Finland’s Dome Runner offer a hard-industrial bridge between Godflesh at their angriest and earliest Fear Factory‘s mechanized chugging assault. Conflict State Design is the trio’s first full-length, and along with the stated influences, there’s some pull from sludge and noise as well, shades of Fudge Tunnel in “Unfollow” met with harsh screaming or the churning riff underscoring the explosions of synth in “The Undemonizing Process,” like roughed-up Souls at Zero-era Neurosis. With the seven-minute extreme wash of “Impure Utility of Authoritarian Power Structure” at its center, Conflict State Design harkens back to the dreary industrialism of two decades ago — it very pointedly doesn’t sound like Nine Inch Nails — but is given a forward-thinking heft and brutality to match. Amid something of an industrial revival in the heavy underground, Dome Runner‘s debut stands out. More to the point, it’s fucking awesome.

Dome Runner on Facebook

Dome Runner on Bandcamp

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Moonlit, So Bless Us Now…

Varese, Italy, instrumentalist heavy post-rockers Moonlit almost can’t help but bring to mind Red Sparowes with their debut album, So Bless Us Now…, though the marching cymbals early in the 17-minute finale “And We Stood Still Until We Became, Invisible” seem to be in conversation with Om‘s meditative practice as well, and the violin on the earlier “Empty Sky/Cold Lights…” (11:25) is a distinguishing element. Still, it is a melding of heft and float across “For We Have Seen” (12:29) at the beginning of the record, more straight-ahead riffing met with a focus on atmospherics beyond conventional sense of aural weight. Each piece has its own persona, some linear, the penultimate “Shine in the Darkest Night” more experimentalist in structure and its use of samples, but the whole 55-minute listening experience is consuming, minimal in its droning finish only after creating a full wash of mindful, resonant psychedelic reach. With titles drawn from Nietzsche quotes from Thus Spake Zarathustra, there are suitably lonely stretches throughout, but even at its maddest, So Bless Us Now… holds to its stylistic purpose.

Moonlit on Instagram

Moonlit on Bandcamp

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The Spacelords, Unknown Species

Not to be confused with New York outfit Spacelord, the now-decade-plus-runnin German instrumental kosmiche-harvesters The Spacelords present Unknown Species across three — and I’m just being honest here — wonderful extended works, arranged from shortest to longest as “F.K.B.D.F.” (8:10), “Unknown Species” (14:53) and the initially-unplugged “Time Tunnel” (20:26) unfurl a thoughtful outbound progression that finds beauty in dark times and jams with intent that’s progressive without pretense — and, when it wants to be, substantially heavy. That’s true more of the end in “Time Tunnel” than the initial synth-laced drift of “F.K.B.D.F.,” but the solo-topped punch of the title-track/centerpiece isn’t to be understated either. In 2020, the trio released their Spaceflowers (review here) LP, as well as a documentary about their recording/writing processes, and Unknown Species pushes even further into defining just how special a band they are, gorgeously constructed and impeccably mixed as it is. Can’t and wouldn’t ask for more.

The Spacelords on Facebook

Tonzonen Records website

—

 

Scrying Stone, Scrublands

A debut outing from Michigan-based newcomers Scrying Stone, the 29-minute Scrublands flows like an album so I’m going to consider it one until I hear otherwise. And as a first album, it sets melody and tonal density not so much against each other, but toward like purposes, and even in the instrumental “Ballad of the Hyena,” it finds cohesive ground for the two sides to exist together without contradiction and without sounding overly derivative of its modern influences. “At Our Heels” makes an engaging hello for first-time listeners, and the faster “The Marauder” later on adds a sense of dynamic at just the right moment before the fuzzy overload of “Desert Thirst” dives into deeper weedian idolatry. There’s some boogie underneath the title-track too, and as a companion to the willing-to-soar closer “Dromedary,” that unrushed rush feels purposeful, making Scrublands come across as formative in its reach — one can definitely hear where they might branch out — but righteously complete in its production and songwriting; a strong opening statement of potential for the band to make en route to what might come next.

Scrying Stone on Facebook

Scrying Stone on Bandcamp

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Based in Bergen, Norway, classic-style heavy prog rockers Kryptograf released their self-titled debut last June through Apollon Records and now follow with the single “The Well.” Of you’d have asked me, I would’ve said I reviewed the album. I definitely meant to. But I can’t find it and, frankly, I’ve gotten pretty decent at navigating this site, so if I can’t find it it’s probably not there. Bummer.

Bottom line of that review would have been that the band are pretty right on, proggy enough to hold that down but not so indulgent as to lose the thread of their own songs. I know I played them on the Gimme show once or twice, and they were definitely talked about at list-time, but yeah, no review. Sometimes you don’t get to cool shit. Wasn’t for any lack of desire, I assure you. Maybe I’ll close out a week with it in 2026 or something.

Either way, the new song brings ace vibe as well, so I wanted at least to mark the release, which was on Friday. You can stream it at the bottom of this post, and really, if you’ve come this far, why wouldn’t you?

Enjoy:

Kryptograf – The Well – Apollon Records

3 September 2021

Kryptograf are back with a brand new single called The Well.

Inspired by the heavy sound of the late 60s and 70s the band is still riding high on the success of their self-titled debut album from 2020. the four old souls ( young men , though, all but the drummer still in their mid twenties ) in Kryptograf from Bergen , Norway, will hex you with their collective vocals, destructive riffs and inventive songwriting.

Kryptograf is an eclectic but fiercely focused addition to the doomy Bergen underground.

Line-up:
Vegard Strand – Guitar / Vocals
Odd Erlend Mikkelsen – Guitar / Vocals
Eirik Arntsen – Drums / Vocals
Eivind Standal Moen – Bass

https://www.facebook.com/KryptografMusic/
https://www.facebook.com/bergenapollonrecords/

Kryptograf, “The Well”