Appalachian Incantation Archives

Reissue Reviews: Karma to Burn, Appalachian Incantation, V & Karma to Burn EP

Posted in Reviews on September 6th, 2022 by JJ Koczan

Morgantown, West Virginia’s Karma to Burn passed into legend with the 2021 death of Will Mecum, founding guitarist and spearhead of the band for their 20-plus years. And as regards holy trinities, one could ask little more than what the mostly-defiantly-instrumental trio conjured across their first three albums: 1997’s self-titled debut (discussed here), 1999’s Wild Wonderful Purgatory (discussed here) and 2001’s Almost Heathen (discussed here). Comprised then of Mecum, bassist Rich Mullins and an earlier succession of drummers that led to Rob Oswald taking over for the second and third LPs, Karma to Burn became one of the most essential riff-rock outfits of the turn of the century, and their influence extended to the compositional in that for most of their career after their first record, they were about as stripped down as you can get and still be playing heavy rock and roll.

I’ve said on multiple occasions that Karma to Burn‘s music is the straightest line from silence to bullshit-free heavy, and with their discography taken as a whole, I stand by that. After 2002, the band broke up until a 2009 reunion tour and split with ASG, which was followed by a few more splits and short/live outings en route to 2010’s return full-length, Appalachian Incantation (review here) and 2011’s V (review here), issued respectively through Napalm Records and its short-lived heavy rock imprint Spinning Goblin Productions. This comeback era also produced 2012’s Slight Reprise, a wholly sans-vocal redux 15 years later of their debut, numerous other live albums, a 2013 self-titled EP on Heavy Psych Sounds and their final long-player, 2014’s Arch Stanton (review here) through FABA/Deepdive Records.

The Heavy Psych Sounds EP is notable because it was the first collaboration between the band and the then-nascent label, and at the time, Karma to Burn were a significant get for the Italian imprint. Nine years later, Heavy Psych Sounds has not only reissued the prior-noted first three albums, but steps up for Appalachian Incantation, V and that same 2013 EP as well, adding Karma to Burn to a list of quintessential bands revisited like Nebula, Dozer, Kylesa, Josiah, Sgt. Sunshine, Brant Bjork, Yawning Man, and so on, solidifying its position as the world’s foremost purveyor of heavy rock in its various forms. The EP repress feels a bit like an indulgence when one thinks that it was either that or Arch Stanton, but two factors to consider: what was/is catalog number HPS008 highlighted Karma to Burn‘s commitment specifically to the European underground that always seemed to love them best, and there’s nothing to say a Heavy Psych Sounds edition of Arch Stanton isn’t coming later. You never really know until the announcement shows up.

Comeback Karma to Burn, who would bid farewell to Oswald after V, sound especially vital on Appalachian Incantation. The trio of Mecum, Mullins and Oswald were air tight and solidified after their return to touring, and the Scott Reeder production of the eight-song/38-minute collection gives life and dynamic to songs like “Forty One” and the slower “Forty Five,” the band’s penchant for numerical titles resulting in setlists that look like lottery pulls and an interchangeable-at-times feeling of immersion. That is to say, when you’re listening to a record like Appalachian Incantation, even if you don’t know where you are numerically — because tracks don’t appear in the order they were apparently written, mind you — the experience is that much easier to take as a whole when considering the interplay of songs presumably written around the same time.

And Mecum as the band’s driving creative force was not averse to throwing his listenership a bone. Collaboration with singer Dan Davies of Year Long Disaster resulted in Appalachian Incantation‘s side B leadoff and landmark “Waiting on the Western World,” and V — which picks up numerically at “Forty Seven” where the prior album left off at “Forty Six” — reminds that at one point it was difficult to tell where Karma to Burn ended and Year Long Disaster began, the two groups touring together and offering three vocalized songs on V in “The Cynics,” “Jimmy D” and a closing take on Black Sabbath‘s “Never Say Die.” Produced by John Lousteau (Alice in Chains‘ Black Gives Way to Blue, Corrosion of Conformity‘s 2012 self-titled, many more) , V streamlined some of the range of the album prior into an especially-tight-even-for-Karma–to–Burn presentation that these years later still captures the band who’d soon shift lineup in their ultimate element, riffs leading the charge one nod to the next like a succession of so many Appalachian foothills.

Taken back to back with Appalachian Incantation, V doesn’t have quite the same force of low end — “Scott Reeder” and “bass” are words that go very well together — but it’s about as to-the-bone as Karma to Burn would ever get. The Karma to Burn EP that followed two years later brought aboard drummer Evan Devine, who would remain in the band for the duration, and marked Mullins‘ final studio appearance with them. Comprised half of new tracks — “Fifty Three,” “Fifty Four,” “Space Tune” — and half of songs redone from the prior two LPs in “Forty One” and “Forty Two” from Appalachian Incantation and “Forty Seven” from V, the 29-minute outing straddles the line between a short release and a full-length, and demonstrates particularly well the swing that Devine brought to the trio and the direction they’d continue to take on their next outing in 2014.

All of which is to say that while this period of Karma to Burn‘s work will likely never be that upon which their already-noted legend is based — that’s really Wild Wonderful Purgatory and Almost Heathen, and if you’re a new listener to the band, that’s where you want to start — it was a succession of crucial moments for them and for Mecum as they returned to the stage, continued to declare who they were, and set about influencing a new generation of heavy instrumentalists. They have never been and they will never be a band for everybody, but these reissues readily demonstrate how even as purposefully, willfully simplified as their sound was — as though they took Mecum‘s t-shirt, jeans, and ball cap pulled down over eyes and turned it into music — the statement they made was as much one of persona as of heft and groove. Despite the efforts of many, there was and will only ever be one Karma to Burn. Here they are.