Posted in Whathaveyou on February 5th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
The more the merrier, to be sure. It’s been five years since defunct Argentine heavy rock spearheads Los Natas oversaw reissues of at least some of their back catalog through another Italian label, Argonauta Records, or started to at least, and no doubt Heavy Psych Sounds will be doing it up with special editions and colors and new shirts and man I want a new Los Natas shirt and none of them will fit because that’s how it goes with European sizes, but still, fucking rad. And to go back to my original thesis, if you own four copies of 1996’s debut, Delmar (discussed here), I probably don’t need to tell you to look forward to your chance to get a fifth.
Light on details thus far, but I’ve done a couple features on these reissue series Heavy Psych Sounds has undertaken — Dozer, Nebula, and so on — and I hold Los Natas in that measure of regard. They’re one of the best heavy rock bands the planet has ever produced. I was talking about them this weekend with somebody, by coincidence. The records hold up. I’m glad they’ll all be back out there. I wonder if that includes some of the compilations. Guess we’ll find out.
For now, here’s the announce from Heavy Psych Sounds:
*** LOS NATAS ***
REPRESS of the legendary stoner rock band ENTIRE CATALOGUE with some brand new artworks and coloured vinyls –
We’re really stoked to announce that we signed a deal with Sergio Chotsourian @sergioch_ig from the mighties LOS NATAS for their ENTIRE CATALOGUE REPRESS !!!
All LOS NATAS releases, some of them with brand new special artworks and coloured vinyls.
STAY TUNED FOR MORE INFO TO COME ..
Formed in Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1994, Los Natas put the second largest South American nation on the world’s stoner rock map almost single-handedly. Coming together in the mid-‘90’s, guitarist/vocalist Sergio Chotsourian, bassist Miguel Fernandez and drummer Walter Broide displayed a distinct Kyuss obsession on their 1996 debut Delmar, which was sung almost exclusively in Spanish. But subsequent releases such as 1999’s Ciudad de Brahman and 2002’s Corsario Negro (featuring new bassist Gonzalo Villagra) quickly expanded upon this oft-borrowed blueprint, adding sonic elements culled from space rock, psychedelia and even jazz, meshing and elevating them all to heights arguably never scaled south of the Equator. Not content to sit on their laurels, the group’s 2003’s Toba Trance delved into Indian music over the course of three songs spread over sixty-minutes. – Eduardo Rivadavia
Los Natas: Sergio Chotsourian: Guitar, vox Walter Broide: Drums, vox Gonzalo Villagra: Bass
Posted in Reviews on October 15th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
I’ll be honest, I don’t even want to talk about how well this Quarterly Review is going because I worry about screwing it up. It’s always a lot of work to round up 10 records per day, even if there’s a single or and EP snuck in there, but it’s been a long time now that I’ve been doing things this way — sometimes as a means of keeping up, sometimes to herald things to come, usually just a way to write about things I want to write about regardless of timeliness — and it’s always worth it. I’ve had a couple genuinely easy days here. Easier than expected. Obviously that’s a win.
So while I wait for the other shoe to drop, let’s keep the momentum going.
Quarterly Review #61-70:
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Massive Hassle, Unreal Damage
Brotherly two-piece Massive Hassle, comprised of brothers Bill Fisher and Marty Fisher — who played together in Mammothwing and now both feature in Church of the Cosmic Skull — get down with another incredibly complex set of harmonized ’70s-style soul-groovers, nailing it as regards tone and tempo from the big riff that eats “Lost in the Changes” to the strums and croons early in the penultimate “Tenspot,” hitting a high note together in that song that gives over to stark and wistful standalone guitar meander that with barely a minute ago gorgeously becomes a bittersweet triumph of nostalgic fuzz reminiscent of Colour Haze‘s “Fire” and having the sheer unmitigated gall to tell the world around them it’s no big deal by naming the band Massive Hassle and stating that as the thing they most want to avoid. When they did Number One (review here) in 2023, it felt like they were proving the concept. With Unreal Damage, they’re quietly pushing limits.
Iress are the Los Angeles-based four-piece of Michelle Malley (vocals), Michael Maldonado (bass), Glenn Chu (drums) and Graham Walker (guitar). Sleep Now, In Reverse is their fourth full-length in nearly 15 years of existence. As a record, it accomplishes a lot of things, but what you need to understand is that where it most succeeds and stands itself out is in bringing together a heavy post-rock sound — heavygaze, as the kids don’t say because they don’t know what it is — with emotive expression on vocals, a blending of ethereal and the most human and affecting, and when Malley lets loose in the payoff of “Mercy,” it’s an early highlight with plenty more to follow. It’s not that Iress are reinventing genre — evolving, maybe? — but what they’re doing with it is an ideal unto itself, taking those aspects from across an aesthetic range and incorporating them into a whole, at times defiantly cohesive sound, lush but clearheaded front to back.
When the band put the shimmying “Apocalypse Babes” up as a standalone single last year, it was some five years after their debut full-length, 2018’s Mindtripper (review here) — though there was a split between — so not an insignificant amount of time for Norway’s Magmakammer to expand on their methods and dig into the songs. To be sure, “Doom Jive” and “Zimbardo” still have that big-hook, Uncle Acid-style dirty garage buzz that lends itself so well to cultish themes but thankfully here is about more than murder. And indeed, the band seems to have branched out a bit, and the eight-song/43-minute Before I Burn is well served by divergences like the closing “I Will Guide Your Hand” or the way “Cult of Misanthropy” sounds like a studio outtake on a bootleg from 1969 until they kick it open around a build of marching guitar, even as it stays loyal to Magmakammer‘s core stylistic purposes. A welcome return.
The kind of sludge rock Ohio’s Evel play, informed by Mondo Generator‘s druggy, volatile heavy punk and C.O.C.‘s Southern metal nod, maybe a bit of High on Fire in “Alaska,” with a particularly Midwestern disappointment-in-everything that would’ve gone over well at Emissions From the Monolith circa 2003, isn’t what’s trendy. It’s not the cool thing. It doesn’t care about that, or about this review, or about providing social media content to maximize its algorithmic exposure. I’m not knocking any of that — especially the review, which is going swimmingly; I promise a point is coming — but if Evel‘s six-songer debut EP, Omen, is a foretell of things to come, the intention behind it is more about the catharsis of the writing/performance than trying to play to ‘scene’-type expectations. It is a pissed-off fuckall around which the band — which features guitarist/vocalist Alex Perekrest, also of Red Giant — will continue to build as “Dust Angel” and the swinging “Dawn Patrol” already find them doing. The going will likely be noisy, and that’s just fine.
Some six years and one reunion after their fourth album, 2018’s The Lucky Ones (review here), Virginia-born classic heavy barnburners Satan’s Satyrs are back with a fifth collection beating around riffs from Sabbath and the primordial ooze of heavy that birthed them, duly brash and infectious in their energy. Founding bassist/vocalist Clayton Burgess and guitarist Jarrett Nettnin are joined in the new incarnation of the band by guitarist Morgan McDaniel (also Mirror Queen) and drummer Russ Yusuf — though Sean Saley has been with them for recent live shows — and as they strut and swing through “Saltair Burns” like Pentagram if they’d known how to play jazz but were still doom, or the buzzy demo-style experimentation of “Genuine Turquoise,” which I’m just going to guess came together differently than was first expected. So much the better. They’ve never been hugely innovative, but Satan’s Satyrs have consistently delivered at this point across a span of more than a decade and they have their own spin on the style. They may always be a live band, but at least in my mind, there’s not much more one would ask that After Dark doesn’t deliver.
Delivered through Kozmik Artifactz, Weight in Gold is the second long-player from Melbourne, Australia’s Whoopie Cat, and it meets the listener at the intersection of classic, ’70s-style heavy blues rock and prog. Making dynamic use of a dual-vocal approach in “Pretty Baby” after establishing tone, presence and craft as assets with the seven-minute opening title-track, the band are unflinchingly modern in production even as they lean toward vintage-style song construction, and that meld of intention results in an organic sound that’s not restricted by the recording. Plus it’s louder, which doesn’t hurt most of the time. In any case, as Whoopie Cat follow-up their 2018 debut, Illusion of Choice, they do so with distinction and the ability to convey a firm grasp on their songwriting and convey a depth of intention from the what-if-Queen-but-blues “Icarus” or the consuming Hammondery of closer “Oh My Love.” Listening, I can’t help but wonder how far into prog they might ultimately go, but they’ve found a sweetspot in these songs that’s between styles, and they fit right in it.
Cheeky, heavy garage punk surely will not be enough to save the immortal souls of Earth Tongue from all their devil worship and intricate vocal patterning. And honestly the New Zealand two-piece — I could’ve sworn I saw something about them moving to Germany, but maybe they just had a really good Berlin show? — sound fine with that. Guitarist Gussie Larkin and drummer Ezra Simons benefit from the straightforward outward nature of their songs. That is, “Out of This Hell,” “The Mirror,” “Bodies Dissolve Tonight!” and any of the other nine inclusions on the record that either were or could’ve been singles, are catchy and tightly written. They’re not overplayed or underplayed, and they have enough tonal force in Larkin‘s guitar that the harder churn of closer “The Reluctant Host” can leave its own impression and still feel fluid alongside some of Great Haunting‘s sweeter psych-punk. Wherever they live, the two-piece make toys out of pop and praise music so that even “Miraculous Death” sounds like, and is, fun.
The collection House of Pain (Demos) takes its title from the place where guitarist/vocalist Tomas Iramain recorded them alongside bassist Matias Maltratador and drummer Jorge Iramain, though whether it’s a studio, rehearsal space, or an actual house, I won’t profess to know. Tomas is the lone remaining member carried over from the band’s 2020 self-titled LP, and the other part of what you need to know about House of Pain (Demos) can also be found in the title: it’s demos. Do not expect a studio sound full of flourish and nuance. Reportedly most of the songs were tracked with two Shure SM57s (the standard vocal mic), save for “Nomad” and “The Way I Am,” I guess because one broke? The point is, as raw as they are — and they are raw — these demos want nothing for appeal. The bounce in the bonus-track-type “Mountain (Take 1)” feels like a Dead Meadowy saunter, and for all of its one-mic-ness, “Nomad” gives a twist on ’50s and early ’60s guitar instrumentals that’s only bolstered by the recording. I’m not saying Las Historias should press up 10,000 LPs immediately or anything, but if this was the record, or maybe an EP and positioned as more substantial than the demos, aside from a couple repeated tracks, you could do far worse. “Hell Bird” howls, man. Twice over.
Certainly “Come With Me” and others on Aquanaut‘s self-titled debut have their desert rocking aspects, but there’s at least as much The Sword as Kyuss in what the Trondheim, Norway, newcomers unfurl on their self-titled, self-released debut, and when you can careen like in “Gamma Rays,” maybe sometimes you don’t need anything else. The seven-track/35-minute outing gets off to a bluesy, boozy start with “Lenéa,” and from there, Aquanaut are able to hone an approach that has its sludgier side in some of the Eyehategod bark of “Morality” but that comes to push increasingly far out as it plays through, so that “Living Memories” soars as the finale after the mid-tempo fuzzmaking of “Ivory,” and so Aquanaut seem to have a nascent breadth working for them in addition to the vigor of a young band shaping a collective persona. The generational turnover in Norway is prevalent right now with a number of promising debuts and breakouts in the last couple years. Aquanaut have a traditionalism at their core but feel like they want to break it as much as celebrate it, and if you’re the type to look for ‘bands to watch,’ that’s a reason to watch. Or even listen, if you’re feeling especially risk-friendly.
While I would be glad to be writing about Ghost Frog‘s quirky heavy-Weezerism and psychedelic chicanery even if their third album, Galactic Mini Golf didn’t have a song called “Deep Space Nine Iron” on it, I can’t lie and say that doesn’t make the prospect a little sweeter. It’s an interlude and I don’t even care — they made it and it’s real. The Portland, Oregon, four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Quinn Schwartz, guitarist/synthesist Karl Beheim, bassist Archie Heald and drummer Vincent LiRocchi (the latter making his first appearance) keep somewhat to a golfy theme, find another layer’s worth of heavy on “Shadow Club,” declare themselves weird before you even press play and reinforce the claim in both righteous post-grunge roll of “Burden of Proof” and the new wave rock of “Bubble Guns” before the big ol’ stompy riff in “Black Hole in One’ leads to a purposeful whole-album finish. Some things don’t have to make the regular kind of sense, because they make their own kind. Absurd as the revelry gets, Ghost Frog make their own kind of sense. Maybe you’ll find it’s also your kind of sense and that’s how we learn things about ourselves from art. Have a great rest of your day.
Posted in Reviews on October 10th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Some of this stuff is newer, some of it has been out for a while. You know how it goes with these things. If I had a staff of 30, I’d still always be behind and trying to keep up. It rarely works, but when a given Quarterly Review is done and I’m on the other side of 50, 70, 100 records, whatever it might be, I can fool myself for a few minutes into thinking this site is remotely comprehensive. At least until I next check my email.
Ups and downs to that, I suppose. I wouldn’t swear to it all not being AI, but I wouldn’t swear to reality being ‘real’ by any human definition either, and I’m not sure a machine making you feel something invalidates the artistic statement. Seems to me all the more an achievement. I guess what I’m trying to say in my best Kent Brockman is, “I for one, welcome our new robotic overlords.” I hope the machines take into account that I liked their paintings when they’re crushing skulls like in Terminator 2 or handing out especially cushy seats in the Matrix.
What were we talking about? Oh yeah, albums and such. Back to it:
Quarterly Review #31-40:
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Conan, DIY 10″ Series, Issue 1
In some ways, DIY 10″ Series, Issue 1 is the release Conan have been building toward. A DIY recording for Conan at this point meant recording with bassist Chris Fielding (who’s since left the band as a player but will continue to produce) and releasing through Jon Davis‘ Black Bow Records. That’s a DIY deal a lot of bands would take, and sure enough, the three songs on DIY 10″ Series, Issue 1 — the characteristically crush-galloping “Invinciblade,” “Time Becomes Master” and a cover of “Hate Song” by Fudge Tunnel — don’t sound like some half-assed thing made in the band’s rehearsal space or the living room when everyone else is out. They sound like Conan. So yes, they destroy. “Time Becomes Master” does so more slowly than “Invinciblade” and not before its intro turns feedback into cinematic artistry over the course of its first two-plus minutes, distortion eating the howl twice before Johnny King‘s drums kick in to answer what were those footprints that knocked over all the trees. Vocals don’t even kick in until four of the five minutes are gone; truly mastering time. And that drone is there the whole time. I’ll take more experimental Conan anytime.
Guitarist Dan Lorenzo (Hades) and drummer Johnny Kelly (Type O Negative) return with 12 new cuts across 43 minutes on Visioning. As with last year’s My Veneration (review here), the album features an assortment of guest singers, from Mark Sunshine (Unida) and Karl Agell (Legions of Doom, Lie Heavy), to Jason McMaster (Dangerous Toys, Watchtower) and Kyle Thomas (Exhorder, Trouble, Alabama Thunderpussy), and more besides. Bassists Dave Neabore (Dog Eat Dog) and Eric Morgan (A Pale Horse Named Death) hold down the low end as Lorenzo demonstrates the principles of applying quality riffing to an assortment of situations. It veers into nü metal more than once, but at least it’s taking a risk, and it’s just as likely to be a classic Sabbathian delve like “Empty Cup,” so you wouldn’t accuse the band of lacking scope, and Sunshine — who’s on the West Coast and plenty busy besides — might be the frontman Patriarchs in Black have been looking for all along.
Welsh melody heavy post-rockers Lurcher will have to find a new label home as Trepanation Recordings, which released Breathe, earlier this year and stood behind the band’s 2021 debut EP, Coma (review here), has ceased operations, but it’s hard to imagine Lurcher having much trouble finding a home for a sound as defined as it seems to be on “Breathe Out” and the more driving “Blister” here, which take the lush melodies one might hear from a band like Elephant Tree from an angle rooted more in post-hardcore, and a little more about shove than nod, but still able to get hazy and dreamy on opener “Never Over” or likewise mammoth and poppy on “Blink of an Eye,” though I’ll note that by “poppy” I mean accessible, melodic and professional. It wants neither for bombast nor impact, and the Mellotron before they turn “Blink of an Eye” back to the verse is just one among the many examples of why Lurcher are ready for a full-length. Or why I’m ready for one from them, at the very least.
A new configuration for some familiar players, as Alreckque‘s debut EP, 6PM, presents an initial four songs from guitarist/vocalist Jim Healey (We’re All Gonna Die, Blood Lightning, Set Fire, etc.), bassist/vocalist Aaron Gray (Hepatagua) and drummer Rob Davol (Cocked ‘n’ Loaded, Set Fire, etc.), each of whom would carry their union card for the Boston heavy underground if the city hadn’t busted the union to build condos. Healey‘s voice will be immediately recognizable to, well, anyone who’s ever heard it — it’s a pretty recognizable voice — and though “Sunsets” touches on some more metallic riffing in the vein of Blood Lightning, Alreckque is distinguished by what Gray brings to it in vocals, not only keeping up with Healey melodically (which is no small feat), but serving as an essential part of some of the EP’s most affecting moments. Yeah, the moniker is kind of a gag, but “Achilles’ Last Taco Stand (End of Man)” sets high stakes and has the reach to hit the mark in its apex. Projects like this come and go as everybody involved is usually doing more than one thing, but Alreckque sounds like the start of something worth pursuing.
Black Capricorn‘s second LP for Majestic Mountain behind 2022’s Cult of Blood (review here), the nine-song/43-minute Sacrifice Darkness… and Fire lets you know it means business immediately because not one, not two, but three songs have the word “night” in the title. To wit, “The Night They Came to Take You Away,” “Another Night Another Bite” two songs later, and “Electric Night” two songs after that. That doesn’t even count “The Moon Rises as the Immortals Gather” or “A New Day Rising,” both of which would presumably take place at least in part at night. Clearly the Sardinian cult doomers have upped their game. Your move, entire genre of heavy metal! Perhaps the highest compliment I could pay the record would be to say it earns its instances of “night,” which it does, but don’t let that keep you from “Blood of Evil” or the opener “Sacrifice,” which pairs drifting vocal incantations with an earthy groove and lays out the atmosphere for what follows. As expected and as one would hope, they dig into the songs like grainy VHS zombies into foam-rubber skulls.
The sophomore full-length from Argentina’s Dios Serpiente, founded by bassist, programmer and vocalist Leandro Buceta, brings a collaboration with Sergio Chotsourian (Los Natas, Ararat, Soldati, etc.), who contributes guitar and keyboard, Duelo de Gigantes might be an appropriate title for such a thing, as surely the swell at the finish of “Ruinas Ancestrales” is of duly mammoth proportion, but there’s more happening than largesse as “La Espera” explores textures that feel born of ambient Reznorism en route to the slamming industrial doom of “Dinastia del Morir,” an aggressive centerpiece before “El Oraculo” shows brighter flashes and “El Ultimo Ritual” turns caustic, low sludge into inhuman megaplod before “Monolitos de Lava” drops the drums and thereby transcends that much more completely into atmospheric avant garde-ness. Those used to hearing Chotsourian‘s voice alongside his guitar will be surprised at Buceta‘s growls, but the harsher vocals suit the range of dark and aggressive moods being conveyed in the electronic/organic blend of the arrangements.
If you, like me, remember a time when a band called Swarm of the Lotus stalked the earth with an especially vicious blend of sludge metal, harsh hardcore bite, and doomly proselytizing, Swiss/Swedish trio Norna wield a lurch no less punishing on “Samsara” at the outset of their self-titled sophomore LP. Huge and encompassing, it and “For Fear of Coming,” which follows, feel methodical in the European post-metallic tradition (see Amenra), but Norna are rawer than most and more direct in their assault, so that “Ghost” comes across as punk rooted in its intensity more than metal, which is also what stops “Shine by its Own Light” from being Conan, despite the similar penchant for crush. The effect of the backing atmospherics in “Shadow Works” shouldn’t be understated, even if what tops is so all-out furious, and “The Sleep” slows down a bit for one last tonal offloading, harsh shouts cutting through every punishing stage. Norna don’t mess around. Call it sludge if you want. The truth is it’s more in style and dimension.
Having a couple seconds on either side of the start and finish of a song emphasizes the live-in-studio feel of Luto Sessions, but as it’s the first offering from Argentine psychedelic doom rockers Dead Fellows, it’s not like there’s a ton to compare it to. “Pile of Flesh” or its side-B-opening counterpart “Imminent” have some Uncle Acid to their swing, but even in the boogie of “The Ritual” and the last twists of “Hell Awaits,” Dead Fellows are chasing no sonic ideal so much as their own. Echoing vocals top riffs made more sinister by the lyrics applied to them, and as “Pile of Flesh” is both opener and the longest song (immediate points), everything after seems to build momentum despite mostly languid tempos, and the movement keeps hold right through the dark swirl of “Satan is Waiting for Us” and into the finale, which at last highlights the heavy blues that’s been underscoring the material all along. You already knew if you were listening to the basslines. I don’t know if it’s actually their debut album, but it’s engaging and quickly finds its niche.
You might call Troy, New York, four-piece experimental for all the noise and keys and drones and weirdo vibes they throw at you on their debut, Does the Heartbeat, but go deeper and it’s even weirder. Because it’s pop. Like 1960s Beatles-type pop. Check out “Real Life.” The organ line of “Does the Heart Beat.” The vocal pattern in “I’ve Been Hypnotized” is more Thin Lizzy, so a couple years later, but a lot of what Rabid Children are playing off of is notions of safe, suburban interpretations of rock, and some of it is about turning that on its head, like the Ramones did, but by putting their own spin on these ideas — and songs that are mostly one to two minutes long suits that frenetic approach — Rabid Children both undercut the notions of pop as something that can’t be ‘deep’ or ‘intelligent’ (that’s called “doing Devo‘s work”) and that “Messin Round” can’t coincide with a sprawler jam like “Other Dreams” or that the over-the-top wistfulness of “Teenage Summertime Dream” and the quirkier “FCOJ” (is that a Trading Places reference?) aren’t working toward similar ends.
Just two songs on this initial offering from German noise-doomers Ord Cannon, but that’s enough for the band — which traces its pedigree back through Bellrope into Black Shape of Nexus, thereby ticking any box you might have for off-kilter heavy-as-hell cred — to leave a crater behind. The Foreshots EP brings “Letting My Insides Out Into the Air” (10:35) and “I Need a Hammer” (9:41), and with them, Ord Cannon mark out what one suspects won’t at all be the limits of their ultimate breadth. A harsh experimentlism seems to put the studio on a similar plane to the instruments, and the mix, whether that’s pushing the vocals further back toward the end of “I Need a Hammer” or making “Letting My Insides Out Into the Air” sound like the end of the world more generally, further bolsters the true-horrors-in-three-dee vibe. I don’t know what the advent of Ord Cannon signals for Bellrope, who put out their debut EP in 2019, but this kind of malevolent worldmaking is welcome in any form.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on February 22nd, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Just when you think you’ve got “02Kid” figured out, that’s when the keyboard hits. The first time I heard it, I thought a song started playing in a different browser tab or something, but no, it’s there, and as the emergently amorphous Buenos Aires-based outfit headed by Sergio Chotsourian (aka Sergio Ch.) move on from their 2023 fifth LP, La Rendición Del Hombre (review here), the new song comes coupled with word of a re-revamped lineup that brings Gaston Gullo to the drummer role and finds Chotsourian on bass and vocals alone, where the album also featured his work on guitar.
Change is nothing new for Ararat, and if you count the violin added to La Rendición Del Hombre by Federico Terranova or 2022’s Volumen IV (review here), this isn’t their first time as a duo either. As Chotsourian‘s post-Los Natas oeuvre has grown more experimental, from his acoustic-rooted solo work to varied projects like Ararat, Brno, Soldati, and so on, it’s not really a surprise to see that show up in Ararat‘s sound as it arguably has since their 2009 debut, Musica de la Resistencia (review here) — though that creative reach has gotten broader — but what is new here is the shape that takes. Stripped to its barest parts in bass and drums, much of “02Kid” feels like a rehearsal demo that effectively resets the band. They’ve gone to ground, aurally speaking.
But that’s fair enough too when the context is so open. That is to say, Chotsourian has covered a lot of ground with Ararat, from some of his heaviest, most doomed work to-date to the rawer rumble of Volumen IV, which feels relevant here in terms of the bass/drums construction of the band and a similar focus on low end and nod at the foundation. As to how “02Kid” might speak to what to expect from Ararat going forward, I won’t hazard a guess. It could be “02Kid” is part of an album already in the can — it would make a great candidate for the second of however many tracks included — or it could be a one-off to test out the chemistry of the Chotsourian/Gullo collaboration. All I know is it’s five minutes of new Ararat, there’s a video, and you’ll find it below.
It’s wait and see beyond that, but Chotsourian is prolific enough that it never seems egregiously long to find out where he’s headed next. Until then, enjoy:
Ararat, “02Kid” official video
VIDEO OFICIAL DEL NUEVO SINGLE DE ARARAT – 02KID PRODUCIDO POR SERGIO CH. VIDEO REALIZADO POR SERGIO CH.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 7th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
In 2001, the three members of Buenos Aires heavy rockers Los Natas released their self-titled debut as Santoro, collaborating with frontman Jose “El Topo” Armetta, known for his work in the more metallic/aggressive Demonauta and Massacre. I guess after the record, both parties — the trio and Armetta — went back about their business, but there was a second album started in 2005, and now that’s been released as a five-songer EP called Delta Krieg Commando that hints at where the sophomore outing might’ve gone had it been completed.
It’s special to hear now in no small part because Los Natas seem to be the last band who ever existed not reuniting (even The Beatles put a song out last year), and so having Sergio Chotsourian, Walter Broide and Gonzalo Villagra together on a yet-unheard recording — even one that so raw — is welcome. After this, Chotsourian — now of solo work, Ararat, Soldati, BRNO, South American Sludge Records and various other projects and collabs — and Armetta would work together in the nascent, post-metallic outfit Venosidad (this post from 2009 links to their MySpace; fun), but at least nothing was ever made public. Who knows, maybe there are more CDRs in whichever box Sergio found these. Life’s short and mostly miserable. You gotta take what you can get.
And of course it hasn’t been that long since Chotsourian‘s latest solo release as Sergio Ch., as the single “Shesus Christ” (posted here) arrived in December. I’d point out that he’s working on new songs, but why even? He’s always working on new songs. That’s how you do this. Constantly.
Hail South American heavy:
new release! santoro ep “delta krieg commando” recorded circa 2005 3 unreleased songs + 2 songs in their original master cut
it was meant to be santoro’s second album, but never [finished]. i finally undusted the cdr master tapes and blew it out. los natas + el topo (local metal legend from bands massacre and dragonauta).
1. El Rey Del Miedo 05:35 2. the Warrior 03:25 3. Pompeya Drag Queen 05:33 4. Barridos Por El Viento 04:16 5. El Collar Del Perro 06:13
Recorded, mixed and mastered by Patricio Claypole at Estudio el Attic. Artwork by Sergio Ch. Produced by Patricio Claypole. South American Sludge Records.
Posted in Reviews on January 5th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
For the second orbit in a row, Rosario, Argentina, instrumentalists Black Sky Giant greet the New Year with the New Record. And so we climb aboard The Red Chariot. The turnover from 2022 into 2023, a year ago, brought the seemingly-anonymous, DIY-recording-and-releasing outfit’s fifth full-length, Primigenian (review here), which followed on from Jan. 2022’s End of Days Pilgrimage, so they’re well familiar with putting out new music in the industry’s traditional winter doldrums. To wit, they issued their fourth album, Falling Mothership in June 2021, but before that, there was Planet Terror in January of that same year, and I don’t know when in 2020 their debut, Orbiter, first came out, but the reissue was late Dec. 2021 (dates sourced from Bandcamp), which is close enough. Whatever their reason might be — or sometimes a band just falls into these patterns and there isn’t a reason — right now-ish seems to be their spot, and as habit breeds expectation it doesn’t seem unreasonable to think that in Jan. 2025, they might have another 40-ish minutes of material behind which march into that unknown and distant-sounding future.
In the meantime, The Red Chariot invites the audience not only to appreciate how prolific Black Sky Giant have been over the last four-plus years — six LPs is nothing to sneeze at in that span, even if you’re not waiting on a lyricist and making it all yourself, etc. — but to process how their style has evolved in that relatively short period of time. Heavy psychedelia, post-rock, krautrock and prog have been factors since the outset, as a revisit to Orbiter will demonstrate, but The Red Chariot takes off with its title-track and harnesses a linear-coursing progressive fluidity that, with its effects wobbles, steady, maybe-programmed drums and root guitar figure coherent beneath the swirl, is a preface for the post-punk melancholic bounce of “A Timeless Oracle” and a hint at some of the spaces songs like “Submerged Towers” or the Euro-style meditative heavy riffing on “Electrical Civilization” will occupy.
Across eight songs and 38 minutes, Black Sky Giant hold firmly to that rhythmic flow that takes hold in “The Red Chariot,” and as the subsequent “Path” broadens the reach in its atmospheric, contemplative stretch, it’s lead guitar taking the place of vocals, but doing so with uncommon soulfulness and melodic expression. It’s not quite trying to sing lines, as some lead guitars do in no-singer units, but in the slow, echo-laced and foggy unfolding of “Path,” the guitar brings character to complement and contrast the heft of the bass that thickens up around three minutes in, and The Red Chariot isn’t through the first half of its first side before the band have managed to establish their presence and (part of their) intention, and it isn’t through its first three minutes before the willing listener is immersed.
As noted, “A Timeless Oracle” builds off the title-track and picks up from the sleepy, bluesy guitar layers that cap “Path” with an immediately decisive beat and shimmering guitar, quickly nestling into a verse that’s more The Cure than Kyuss (not complaining) and that builds to a quick head in its sub-three-minute run, but feels more like an idea being tried out than a fully-realized, fleshed-out piece like the side A finale “Illuminated by Reflection,” which follows, or the arranged-shortest-to-longest-but-it’s-all-dug-in progressive heavy psych that typifies The Red Chariot‘s back half.
Ambience is, has become, crucial, and while the underground sphere in which Black Sky Giant are operating might be under the grand and e’er-expanding umbrella of ‘Heavy,’ the wisps of Colour Haze-y guitar put to dramatic use across the slight Earth tinge of “Illuminated by Reflection” after “A Timeless Oracle” emphasizes the band’s ability to work in multiple niches at the same time. Thus the personality of The Red Chariot is built from its component songs, and it feels is all the more complete with “Submerged Towers” answering back to the delay-guitar and post-whathaveyou vibes of the opener and “A Timeless Oracle.” I can’t say with 100 percent certainty that “Submerged Towers” and “The Red Chariot” itself aren’t part of the same progression. If they’re not, or if one isn’t working off the other, they’re pretty close.
If the pattern would hold, with Black Sky Giant alternating back and forth between prog-psych and heavy-post-punk methodologies, the denser-seeming fuzz of “Electrical Civilization” would hold and flesh out as it does — it is marked by a midsection that dares to be pretty in a way rock can’t always manage before transitioning back to the central riff in a way that recalls earlier Tool — and “Augury” would answer in contradiction. That is not how they roll it out, however, as the penultimate “Augury” arrives with immediate prog-heavy clarity. The turn they’ve made instead is into the atmospheric heavy rock of “Path” and “Illuminated by Reflection,” and the personality of the guitar as it twists into verse lines at about a minute in is no less resonant than in the earlier tracks. Lead-style riffing carries through the midsection and into a broader finish, almost wistful or Southern in its layering, but as much as to auger is to foretell — and one might argue that each Black Sky Giant outing has been an auger for the progression of the next; I wouldn’t be surprised if some of the post-punk here is more manifest next time, but I’ll stop short of predicting — it comes across like a good time being remembered, perhaps as it happened.
Rounding out is the six-minute “In the Sight of the Mountain God,” which feels duly reverential, and if you’d look for sacred mountains, Argentina’s got plenty in its western Andes, among them Aconcagua, which is tallest in the Americas. Whatever burg hosts this particular deity, one assumes that like all gods, it prefers gradual tempos, tonal richness, and a sonic conversation with the ethereal offered through terrestrial means, and sure enough that’s the offering being made by Black Sky Giant, though a shift at three minutes in results in a minor redirection as a setup for the shred-into-the-fade ending. And the noisy finish is somewhat surprising given how controlled and thoughtful the band (who I assume is more than one person, but of course I could be wrong) have been up to that moment, but I suspect that the giving over to that more raucous impulse is the point, and so “In the Sight of the Mountain God” is a fit conceptually as well as in tone and mood.
A lot can and will happen before Jan. 2025 comes around, and it may be that one won’t hear from Black Sky Giant until then if they do another record, if that’s their plan at all. As it stands, the instrumental approach, the narrative slivers posted with the records, and the thematic stylization of the artwork draw The Red Chariot into the context of what Black Sky Giant do as representing their most forward-thinking outing to-date, but it’s clear that the pursuit-of-sound chase that’s brought them here will continue unabated as long as the band itself does.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 8th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Argentine heavy psych rockers Humo del Cairo released their second album, Vol. II (review here), in 2011 through Estamos Felices. That was a pretty quick turnaround for the Buenos Aires three-piece then comprised of guitarist/vocalist Juan Manuel Díaz (who co-produced with Alejandro Ortiz), bassist Gustavo Bianchi and drummer Federico Castrogiovanni, who welcomed the latter into the band as they followed-up their 2007 self-titled debut (review here), which came out through MeteorCity in 2010.
And with that basic background in your pocket and perhaps the audio of iron-ic opener “Fe” lumbering out its warm fuzzy beginnings in your ears, I’ll tell you that when this record hit, I thought Humo del Cairo were at the vanguard of a new generation of South American heavy. The next Los Natas? It’d be a few records before anyone knew for sure, but the 11-song/49-minute Vol. II — I know it’s Vol. 2 on the Bandcamp player; I’m going by the cover art in using the Roman numeral styling — showed the potential was there in a dynamic and growing approach, able to create an atmosphere like “Fe” with its languid psychedelic unfurling, seeming to barely hold together but revealing the solid ground it’s been on the whole time at about three and a half minutes into its total five.
Like much of what follows, it is vibrant in its live energy but spacious in sound, and in addition to bringing ideas from some of what was happening in the European heavy underground at the time into the context of their own work — whether that’s the influence of the Elektrohasch oeuvre heard in the general tonal warmth, or the twisting progressive groove of “Espada de Sal” that reminds as much of Spain’s Viaje a 800 as earliest Queens of the Stone Age or Natas, they also tapped into the kind of thrust on “Crinas” that speaks in part to what Sasquatch have done in the years since, and more to the point, they did it organically.
You didn’t turn on Vol. II and land at the atmospheric pairing of “El Alba (Parte A)” and “El Alba (Parte B)” because Humo del Cairo sat down and mathematically pinpointed the route you’d take, but because it’s where the flow from “Fe” and “Los Ojos” and “Tierra del Rey” takes you. I don’t think it ever came out on vinyl (yet; never say never in a world of future-generation-reissue excavations), but there’s a definite shift in methodology right around “Monte” on the other end of “Crinas” and the “El Alba” sequel that brings a moment of hypnotic contemplation with “Monte” and while it’s probably “Crinas” that would start side B — it’s the centerpiece of the digital version, and fair enough for its nod and melody — before the drums at the start of “Espada de Sal” reorient the flow toward the cyclical rhythm of the toms and the vocals, which even as a non-Spanish-speaker have a grounding effect, and the later roll is revealed.
They don’t stick around in that one riff long enough to make it an answer back to the ultra-catchy “Tierra del Rey” earlier, which is also the longest song at 6:50 and the album’s most fervent stomp, but the noisy wash and effects with which they cap “Espada del Sal” reinforces the idea of the band doing more than one single thing in the material. That is, there’s plenty of riffs throughout Vol. II — and no fewer as “Parte del Leon” looses its own after “Espada de Sal” — but there’s more depth to the material than a sole focus on riffing can convey.
In the sun-coated openness of “El Alba (Parte A)” and the ahead-of-its-time heavy blues ambience of the penultimate “Descienden de los Cielos,” which is mostly instrumental and hits into a vibe that’s drawing from Hendrix but wouldn’t be out of place from All Them Witches in its swaying fluidity, vocals off and on mic, and generally dug-in feel, Vol. II argues decisively for variety in Humo del Cairo‘s style, and they finish with a suitable summary in “Indios,” which saunters through its early verses, chorus and solo and ends up nestled into a riff at about 3:45 where the chug takes hold, and I don’t know if it’s how it actually happened, but it sounds like the entire band decided right then to line up around that part. They dig into it and add some lead flourish and feedback, eventually a solo, but the drums are committed and the bass is on board, so Humo del Cairo end with the jam on a long fade and are all the more a success in doing so for the unpredictable course that brought them there.
This was the last Humo del Cairo record. They offered up a pair of EPs in 2014 and while there’s word from years back on their socials of a posthumous outing, Epilogo, and at one point they even posted a track from it called “En las Cumbres,” since removed from their Bandcamp, where Vol. II and the self-titled were recently added, but that’s gone by now. Díaz released a four-song EP from a solo-project dubbed Sanador in 2017 and were working on an album thereafter, but then Humo del Cairo started doing shows again in 2018, so I won’t profess to know what the situation is or was, what it might be in the future, if this band might ever do anything else or if they’re done permanently. And all that stuff, while relevant, is secondary to the work they did during the early 2010s, which I do think had an impact on South American heavy and could easily have reached beyond that if the gringo-world underground could step over about a two-inch language barrier and give what’s been crafted its due. Not holding my breath there, but crazier things have for sure come to pass.
I hope you enjoy listening. This was a band that came my way during the short-lived reboot of MeteorCity — CDs in gatefold digipaks from outfits like Humo del Cairo, Snail, Leeches of Lore, New Keepers of the Water Towers, Egypt and Valkyrie, among others — that petered out circa 2012 but still had a significant impact on the thread of rock throughout the decade and of course the trajectories of the bands in question. I have no doubt that if Humo del Cairo got a third LP together, they’d nail it. And in a universe of infinite possibility, it could happen.
Thanks for reading.
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Barring disaster between now and then, I and my family will spend next July 3 – Aug. 7 in and around Budapest, Hungary. You may or may not have seen I’ve mentioned a few times I’ve been taking language lessons — magyarul is a beautiful and hilariously complex language; if you’d take it on I hope you like suffixes — and it’s where my father’s side of my family emigrated from in the early 1900s. We’re not directly thinking of leaving the US now, but you never know and if I have a path to citizenship elsewhere, as it seems I do, then I want to pursue that as both principle and practicality. And probably at some point after I can express an idea so complex in the Hungarian language, I’ll actually begin what I understand is a years-long pursuit. Four weeks in town should help, but it’s a whole process, like everything.
It was a week. Things are hard enough that I barely did any substantive writing yesterday (the Mars Red Sky review was done Wednesday) and spent most of the morning and afternoon riding the Light Dragon in Zelda: Tears of the Kingdom, which we’ve been playing as a family, harvesting shards of horns and scales and saving the acquisition of the Master Sword for The Pecan to do when she got home from school. Kid was stoked.
Which was a boon, because we’ve been in a pretty shitty spot the last couple weeks, and even as she seems to be making progress in school as regards hitting and all that, she comes home and absolutely wails on The Patient Mrs. and I. Sitting on the floor last night I got stomped on (on purpose) as she was on her way to the bathroom. She got distracted and didn’t make it, I yelled, she got there. Nobody felt good about anything. Half the time when it’s the three of us here I feel like I have to get up and leave the room. It’s not everything, and it’s not all the time, but when it’s been hard it’s been really fucking hard. And apparently the methylphenidate fucks with their sleep, so now she’s just awake and in our room all the time in the middle of the night and what the fuck did we spend six years hammering bedtime home for again?
A lot of things feel harder than they should. I’m burnt out. My patience is low. My general capacity is low. I have writing projects to do that I can’t get done. I can’t answer email. I lead an amazing life and have spent the last 30 fucking years miserable about it. Do you know how much time that is?
Monday I’m reviewing the Dopelord LP. Yeah, it’s late, but I had to allow a month’s extra time to compose the three sentences at the beginning of the post acknowledging the conflict of interest in reviewing an album I did the liner notes for when it was part of PostWax. Whatever. Next week also has new stuff from Warcoe — an album stream on Tuesday — a video premiere Wednesday from The Awesome Machine’s upcoming reissue on Ripple, and on Thursday an album stream for the ambient project Meditar, who are part of the sphere of Psychedelic Source Records (speaking of Hungary) and feature members of Pilot Voyager.
Did you stream the Mars Red Sky record yesterday? If so, I’d love your thoughts. I’ve sat with that record for a bit and gotten to know it, but I feel like the balance of familiar vs. new in the songs is right on and they’re bringing interesting ideas to the table. I don’t know. I like it.
It’ll be on the year-end list. When’s that happening? Either Tuesday Dec. 19 or the next day, I think. This weekend I’m working on another liner notes thing (as well as site stuff) and then will get the list set over the course of the week and start putting it all together. Biggest post of the year, every year. Takes a bit to build it up, but we’ll get there if years past are anything to go by.
And if you don’t remember, you can still check out the Best of 2022 and the Year-End Poll results that went up this past January, complete with all the lists that were sent in, just in case you’d like to fall down that rabbit hole for the entire day. It’s Friday. I offer a resounding “fuck it” in the direction of everything else.
Great and safe weekend. Have fun, hydrate, all that. See you Monday for that Dopelord review and more besides.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 6th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Maybe I’m crazy, but with the headphones on and Sergio Chotsourian backing his own strum with a bit of keyboard to anchor the measures of the song, I get just a little bit of the Rolling Stones in “Shesus Christ.” Not enough to be a defining feature or some such, but I’m not sure that’s something I’ve ever encountered in his output before. At this point, expecting anyone other than Chotsourian to define his own work — the odd cover aside — would be a misstep as regards the Buenos Aires-based figurehead of South American heavy, whose tenure in Los Natas helped unfurl a generation of other acts and whose solo output has grown into a stylistically open interpretation of emotional and atmospheric ideas that still, somehow, you can get away with calling folk.
One never knows quite what to expect — and at the risk of repeating myself, that’s the fun of it — and in part for that, and in part because he does what he does, Chotsourian is someone for whom and for whose work I have a deep respect. Obviously I came to the catalog through Los Natas, but that’s the beginning of a world waiting to be explored, and he’s only grown more adventurous in sound since that band was laid to rest. He’s also busy as well. Soldati have a recent collection I’m pretty sure. There’s always a steady stream of Natas reissues — even capitalism has its upsides — and Ararat are back at it as well. All this concurrent to solo stuff makes Chotsourian a singular figure in the heavy underground the world over. It’s not just about being prolific, or having longevity, or trying different styles. It’s all of that and the will behind the creative growth that I find inspirational.
The song is at the bottom of this post, both the Bandcamp stream from which you might be inclined to launch your own excursion into the Sergio Ch.-sphere, and the video that was put together by the man himself. Because after everything else, of course.
Please enjoy:
SERGIO CH. – SHESUS CHRIST [S.A.S. 128]
SERGIO CH. – GUITARRA, KEYS & VOCALS
GRABADO, MEZCLADO Y MASTERIZADO EN DEATH STUDIOS POR SERGIO CH. ARTWORK POR SERGIO CH. PRODUCIDO POR SERGIO CH.
