Welcome to the Spring 2025 Quarterly Review. If you’re unfamiliar with the format or how this goes, the quick version is each day brings 10 new releases — albums, EPs, even a single every now and again — that are reviewed at at the end of it everybody has a ton of new music to listen to and I’m a little closer to being caught up to what’s coming out after spending about a season falling behind on coverage. Everybody wins, mostly.

It’s a seven-day QR. As always, some of what will be covered is older and some is new. There are a couple 2024 releases. The 10,000 Years record, for example, I should’ve reviewed five times over by now, but life happens. There’s also stuff that isn’t released yet, so it all averages out to some approximation of relevance. Hopefully.

In any case, we proceed. Thanks if you keep up this week and into next.

Quarterly Review #1-10:

Pagan Altar, Never Quite Dead

Classic metal par excellence pervades the first Pagan Altar album since 2017 and the first to feature vocalist Brendan Radigan (Magic Circle) in place of founding singer Terry Jones, who passed away in 2015 and whose son, guitarist Alan Jones, is the sole remaining founding member of the band, which started in 1978. Never Quite Dead collects eight varied tracks, some further evidence for the line of NWOBHM extending out of the dual-guitar pioneering of Thin Lizzy, plenty of overarching melancholy, and it honors the idea of the band having a classic sound without sacrificing modern impact in the recording. The subdued “Liston Church,” the later doomly sprawl of “The Dead’s Last March” and the willful grandiosity of the nine-minute finale “Kismet” assure that Never Quite Dead indeed resonates vibrant with a heart made of denim.

Pagan Altar on Facebook

Dying Victims Productions website

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Designer, Weekend at Brian’s

Somewhere between proto-punk and 1990s alt-rock come Designer with the three-song demo Weekend at Brian’s. Based in Asheville, the band have an edge of danger to their tones, but the outward face is catchy and quirky, a little Blondie but with deceptively heavy riffing in “Magic Memory” and extra-satisfyingly farty bass in “Midnight Waltz” as the band engage Blue Öyster Cult in a conversation of fears, the band wind up somewhere between heavy modern indie and retro-minded fare. “Ugly in the Streets” moves like a Ramones song and I’ve got no problem with that. However they go, the songs are pointedly straightforward, and they kind of need to be for the stripped-down style to work. Nothing’s over three minutes long, the songs are tight, and it’s got style without overloading on the pretense, which especially for a new outfit is an excellent place to start.

Designer on Instagram

Designer on Bandcamp

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10,000 Years, All Quiet on the Final Frontier

The hopeful keyboard of album intro “Orbital Decay” gradually devolves into noise, and from there, Swedish crash-and-bash specialists 10,000 Years show you what it’s all about — gutted-out heavy riffing, ace swing in “The Experiment” and a whole lot of head-down forward shove. The Västerås-based trio have yet to put out a record that wasn’t a step forward from the one before it, and this late-2024 third full-length feels duly realized in how it incorporates the psychedelic aspects of “Ablaze in the Now” with the physical intensity of “The Weight of a Feather” or closer “Down the Heavy Path.” But they’re more dynamic on the whole, as “Death Valley Ritual” dares a bit of spoken drama, and “High Noon in Sword City” reminds that there’s a good dose of noise rock underpinning what 10,000 Years do, and that cacophony still suits them even as they’ve expanded around that foundation over the last five years.

10,000 Years on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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Amber Asylum, Ruby Red

Amber Asylum are a San Francisco arthouse institution, and from its outset with the five-minute instrumental “Secrets,” the band’s 10th album, Ruby Red, counsels patience in mournful, often softspoken chamber doom. The use of space as the title-track unfolds with founding violinist/vocalist Kris Force‘s voice over minimalist bass, encompassing and sad as the song plays out with an emergent dirge of strings and percussion, where the subsequent “Demagogue” is more actively drummed, the band having already drawn the listener deeper into the record’s seven-song cycle. The cello of Jackie Perez-Gratz (also Grayceon, Brume) gives centerpiece “The Morrigan” extra character later on, and it’s there in “Azure” as well, though the context shifts with foreboding drones of various wavelengths behind the vocals. Ambience plus bite. “Weaver” rolls through its first half instrumentally, realigning around the strings and steady movement; its back half is reverently sung without lyrics. And when they get to closer “A Call on the Wind,” the sense of unease in the violin is met with banging-on-a-spring-style experimentalist noise, just to underscore the sense of things being wrong as far as realities go. It’s not a minor undertaking as regards atmospheric or emotional weight, but empathy resounds.

Amber Asylum on Instagram

Prophecy Productions website

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Weevil, Easy Way

With Fu Manchu as a defining influence, Greek heavy rockers Weevil set forth with Easy Way, their 10-song/42-minute self-released debut album. They pay homage to Lemmy with the cleverly-titled “Rickenbästard” — you know I’m a sucker for charm — and diverge from the straight-ahead heavy thrust on the mellower, longer “The Old Man Lied” and “Insomnia,” but by and large, the five-piece are here to throw down riffy groove and have a good time, and they do just that. The title-track, “Wake the Dead” and “Headache” provide a charged beginning, and even by the time the crunch of “Gonna Fall” slides casually into the nodder hook of closer “Last Night a Zombie” (“…ate my brain” is the rest of the line), they’ve still got enough energy to make it feel like the party could easily continue. It just might. There’s perspective in this material that feels like it might take shape over time, and in my mind, Weevil get immediate credit for being upfront in their homage and wearing their own heavy fandom on their sleeves. You can hear their love for it.

Weevil on Facebook

Weevil on Bandcamp

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Kazea, I, Ancestral

Adventurous and forward-thinking post-metal pervades Swedish trio Kazea‘s debut album, and the sound is flexible enough in their craft to let “Whispering Hand” careen like neo-psych after the screams and lurch of “Trenches” provide one of the record’s most extreme moments, bolstered by guest vocals. Indeed, “Whispering Hand” is a rocker and something of an outlier for that, as Pale City Skin draws a downerist line between Crippled Black Phoenix and circa-’04 Neurosis, “Wailing Blood” finds a way to meld driving rhythm and atmospheric heft, and the seven-minute “Seamlessly Woven” caps with suitable depth of wash, following the lushness of the penultimate “The North Passage” in its howling, growl-topped chorus with another expression of the ethereal. I haven’t heard a ton of hype about I, Ancestral, but regardless, this is one of the best debut albums I’ve heard so far this year for sure. Post-metal needs bands willing to push its limits.

Kazea on Instagram

Suicide Records website

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Electric Eye, Dyp Tid

Hard not to think of the 14-minute weirdo-psych jam “Mycelium” as the highlight of Dyp Tid, but one shouldn’t discount the lead-you-in warmth and serenity of opener “Pendelen Svinger,” or the bit of dub in the drumming of “Clock of the Long Now,” and so on as Norway’s Electric Eye — which is a pretty straightforward name, considering the sound — vibe blissful for the duration. The drone “Den Første Lysstråle” is hypnotic, and though the vocals in “Mycelium” are a sample, the human presence periodically sprinkled throughout the album feels like it’s adding comfort amid what might be an anxious plunge into the cosmos. They finish with “Hvit Lotus,” which marries together various kinds of synth over a deceptively casual beat, capping light with vocals or synth-vocals in a bright chorus over chime sounds and drifting guitar. You made it to the island. You’re safe. Gentle fade out.

Electric Eye website

Fuzz Club Records website

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Void Sinker, Oxygen

Multi-instrumentalist and producer Guglielmo Allegro is the sole denizen behind Void Sinker, and while I know full well we live in an age of technological wonders/horrors, that one person could conjure up such encompassing heavy sounds — the way 14-minute opener “Satellite” just swallows you whole — is impressive. Oxygen is the Salerno, Italy, DIY project’s fourth full-length in two years, and its intent to crush is plain from the outset. “Satellite” has its own summary progression of what the rest of the album does, and then “Oxygen” (9:45), “Collision” (15:23) and “Abyss” (13:32) play through increasingly noisy slab-riff distribution. This is done methodically, at mostly slow tempos, with tonal depth and an obvious awareness of where it’s coming from. Presumably that, and a lack of argument from anyone else when he wants to ride a groove for 15 minutes, is why Void Sinker is a solo outfit. One of distinctive bludgeon, it turns out. Like big riffs pushing the air out of your lungs? Here you go.

Void Sinker on Instagram

Void Sinker on Bandcamp

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André Drage Group, Wolves

Draken drummer André Drage leads the group that shares his name from behind the kit, it would seem, but even if only one name gets to be in the moniker, make no mistake, the entire band is present and accounted for. Challenging each other in jazz-prog fashion, Wolves is the second album from the Group in as many months. It leads off with its longest track (immediate points) “Brainsoup,” and by the time they’re through with it, it is. We’re talking ace prog boogie, funky like El Perro might do it, but looser and more improv feeling in the solo of “Potent Elixirs,” giving a spontaneous impression even in the studio, ebbing and flowing in the runs of “Tigerboy” while “Wind in Their Sails” is both more King Crimson and more shuffling-Rhodes-jam, which is the kind of party you want to be at whether you know it or not. The penultimate “Fire” gets lit by the guitar, and they round out with “Nesodden,” a sweet comedown from some of Wolves‘ more frenetic movements. Like a supernova, but not uncontained. This is a band ready to drop jaws.

André Drage Group on Bandcamp

Drage Records website

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The Mystery Lights, Purgatory

The Sept. 2024 third album from NYC-based vintage rockers The Mystery Lights skillfully weaves together garage rock and ’60s pop theatrics, giving the bounce and sway of the title-track an immediately nostalgic impression that the jangly “In the Streets” is probably about a ahead from in terms of influence, but the blend is the thing. Regardless of how developed the punk is or isn’t in a given track — I dig the shaker in “Trouble” and it manages a sense of ‘island’ without being racist, so bonus points for that — or how “Cerebral Crack” brings flute in with its extra-fuzzed guitar later on or “Memories” and “Automatic Response” feel more soul than rock in both intent and manifestation, The Mystery Lights benefit from pairing stylistic complexity with structural simplicity, and the 12 songs of Purgatory find a niche outside genre norms and time all the more for the fact that the band don’t seem concerned with anything so much as writing songs that sound like home the first time you hear them.

The Mystery Lights’ Linktr.ee

The Mystery Lights on Bandcamp

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Day four of five for this snuck-in-before-the-end-of-the-year Quarterly Review, and I’m left wondering if maybe it won’t be worth booking another week for January or early February, and if that happens, is it still “quarterly” at that point if you do it like six times a year? ‘Bimonthly Quality Control Assessments’ coming soon! Alert your HR supervisors to tell your servers of any allergies.

No, not really.

I’ll figure out a way to sandwich more music into this site if it kills me. Which I guess it might. Whatever, let’s do this thing.

Quarterly Review #31-40

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Sergeant Thunderhoof, The Ghost of Badon Hill

A marked accomplishment in progressive heavy rock, The Ghost of Badon Hill is the fifth full-length from UK five-piece Sergeant Thunderhoof, who even without the element of surprise on their side — which is to say one is right to approach the 45-minute six-tracker with high expectations based on the band’s past work; their last LP was 2022’s This Sceptred Veil (review here)  — rally around a folklore-born concept and deliver the to-date album of their career. From the first emergence of heft in “Badon” topped with Daniel Flitcroft soar-prone vocals, Sergeant Thunderhoof — guitarists Mark Sayer and Josh Gallop, bassist Jim Camp and drummer Darren Ashman, and the aforementioned Flitcroft — confidently execute their vision of a melodic riffprog scope. The songs have nuance and character, the narrative feels like it moves through the material, there are memorable hooks and grand atmospheric passages. It is by its very nature not without some indulgent aspects, but also a near-perfect incarnation of what one might ask it to be.

Sergeant Thunderhoof on Facebook

Pale Wizard Records store

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Swallow the Sun, Shining

The stated objective of Swallow the Sun‘s Shining was for less misery, and fair enough as the Finnish death-doomers have been at it for about a quarter of a century now and that’s a long time to feel so resoundingly wretched, however relatably one does it. What does less-misery sound like? First of all, still kinda miserable. If you know Swallow the Sun, they are still definitely recognizable in pieces like “Innocence Was Long Forgotten,” “What I Have Become” and “MelancHoly,” but even the frontloading of these singles — don’t worry, from “Kold” and the ultra Type O Negative-style “November Dust” (get it?), to the combination of floating, dancing keyboard lines and drawn out guitars in the final reaches of the title-track, they’re not short on highlights — conveys the modernity brought into focus. Produced by Dan Lancaster (Bring Me the Horizon, A Day to Remember, Muse), the songs are in conversation with the current sphere of metal in a way that Swallow the Sun have never been, broadening the definition of what they do while retaining a focus on craft. They’re professionals.

Swallow the Sun on Facebook

Century Media website

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Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships, The Mind Like Fire Unbound

Where’s the intermittently-crushing sci-fi-concept death-stoner, you ask? Well, friend, Lincoln, Nebraska’s Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships would like to have a word, and on The Mind Like Fire Unbound, there’s a non-zero chance that word will come in the form of layered death metal growls and rasping throatripper screams representing an insectoid species about to tear more-melodically-voiced human colonizers to pieces. The 45-minute LP’s 14-minute opener “BUGS” that lays out this warning is followed by the harsh, cosmic-paranoia conjuration of “Dark Forest” before a pivot in 8:42 centerpiece “Infinite Inertia” — and yes, the structure of the tracks is purposeful; longest at the open and close with shorter pieces on either side of “Infinite Inertia” — takes the emotive cast of Pallbearer to an extrapolated psychedelic metalgaze, huge and broad and lumbering. Of course the contrast is swift in the two-minute “I Hate Space,” but where one expects more bludgeonry, the shortest inclusion stays clean vocally amid its uptempo, Torche-but-not-really push. Organ joins the march in the closing title-track (14:57), which gallops following its extended intro, doom-crashes to a crawl and returns to double-kick behind the encompassing last solo, rounding out with suitable showcase of breadth and intention.

Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships on Facebook

Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships on Bandcamp

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Planet of Zeus, Afterlife

Planet of Zeus make a striking return with their sixth album, Afterlife, basing their theme around mythologies current and past and accompanying that with a sound that’s both less brash than they were a few years back on 2019’s Faith in Physics (review here) and refined in the sharpness and efficiency of its songwriting. It’s a rocker, which is what one has come to expect from these Athens-based veterans. Afterlife builds momentum through desert-style rockers like “Baptized in His Death” and the hooky “No Ordinary Life” and “The Song You Misunderstand,” getting poppish in the stomp of “Bad Milk” only after the bluesy “Let’s Call it Even” and before the punkier “Letter to a Newborn,” going where it wants and leaving no mystery as to how it’s getting there because it doesn’t need to. One of the foremost Greek outfits of their generation, Planet of Zeus show up, tell you what they’re going to do, then do it and get out, still managing to leave behind some atmospheric resonance in “State of Non-Existence.” There’s audible, continued forward growth and kickass tunes. If that sounds pretty ideal, it is.

Planet of Zeus on Facebook

Planet of Zeus on Bandcamp

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Human Teorema, Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet

Cinematic in its portrayal, Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet positions itself as cosmically minded, and manifests that in sometimes-minimal — effectively so, since it’s hypnotic — aural spaciousness, but Paris’ Human Teorema veer into Eastern-influenced scales amid their exploratory, otherworldly-on-purpose landscaping, and each planet on which they touch down, from “Onirico” (7:43) to “Studiis” (15:54) and “Spedizione” (23:20) is weirder than the last, shifting between these vast passages and jammier stretches still laced with synth. Each piece has its own procession and dynamic, and perhaps the shifts in intent are most prevalent within “Studiis,” but the closer is, on the balance, a banger as well, and there’s no interruption in flow once you’ve made the initial choice to go with Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet. An instrumental approach allows Human Teorema to embody descriptive impressions that words couldn’t create, and when they decide to hit it hard, they’re heavy enough for the scale they’ve set. Won’t resonate universally (what does?), but worth meeting on its level.

Human Teorema on Instagram

Sulatron Records store

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Caged Wolves, A Deserts Tale

There are two epics north of the 10-minute mark on Caged Wolves‘ maybe-debut LP, A Deserts Tale: “Lost in the Desert” (11:26) right after the intro “Dusk” and “Chaac” (10:46) right before the hopeful outro “Dawn.” The album runs a densely-packed 48 minutes through eight tracks total, and pieces like the distortion-drone-backed “Call of the Void,” the alt-prog rocking “Eleutheromania,” “Laguna,” which is like earlier Radiohead in that it goes somewhere on a linear build, and the spoken-word-over-noise interlude “The Lost Tale” aren’t exactly wanting for proportion, regardless of runtime. The bassline that opens “Call of the Void” alone would be enough to scatter orcs, but that still pales next to “Chaac,” which pushes further and deeper, topping with atmospheric screams and managing nonetheless to come out of the other side of that harsh payoff of some of the album’s most weighted slog in order to bookend and give the song the finish it deserves, completing it where many wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. This impression is writ large throughout and stands among the clearest cases for A Deserts Tale as the beginning of a longer-term development.

Caged Wolves on Facebook

Tape Capitol Music store

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Anomalos Kosmos, Liminal Escapism

I find myself wanting to talk about how big Liminal Escapism sounds, but I don’t mean in terms of tonal proportion so much as the distances that seem to be encompassed by Greek progressive instrumentalists Anomalos Kosmos. With an influence from Grails and, let’s say, 50 years’ worth of prog rock composition (but definitely honoring the earlier end of that timeline), Anomalos Kosmos offer emotional evocation in pieces that feel compact on either side of six or seven minutes, taking the root jams and building them into structures that still come across as a journey. The classy soloing in “Me Orizeis” and synthy shimmer of “Parapatao,” the rumble beneath the crescendo of “Kitonas” and all of that gosh darn flow in “Flow” speak to a songwriting process that is aware of its audience but feels no need to talk down, musically speaking, to feed notions of accessibility. Instead, the immersion and energetic drumming of “Teledos” and the way closer “Cigu” rallies around pastoral fuzz invite the listener to come along on this apparently lightspeed voyage — thankfully not tempo-wise — and allow room for the person hearing these sounds to cast their own interpretations thereof.

Anomalos Kosmos on Facebook

Anomalos Kosmos on Bandcamp

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Pilot Voyager, Grand Fractal Orchestra

One could not hope to fully encapsulate an impression here of nearly three and a half hours of sometimes-improv psych-drone, and I refuse to feel bad for not trying. Instead, I’ll tell you that Grand Fractal Orchestra — the Psychedelic Source Records 3CD edition of which has already sold out — finds Budapest-based guitarist Ákos Karancz deeply engaged in the unfolding sounds here. Layering effects, collaborating with others from the informal PSR collective like zitherist Márton Havlik or singer Krisztina Benus, and so on, Karancz constructs each piece in a way that feels both steered in a direction and organic to where the music wants to go. “Ore Genesis” gets a little frantic around the middle but finds its chill, “Human Habitat” is duly foreboding, and the two-part, 49-minute-total capper “Transforming Time to Space” is beautiful and meditative, like staring at a fountain with your ears. It goes without saying not everybody has the time or the attention span to sit with a release like this, but if you take it one track at a time for the next four years or so, there’s worlds enough in these songs that they’ll probably just keep sinking in. And if Karancz puts outs like five new albums in that time too, so much the better.

Pilot Voyager on Instagram

Psychedelic Source Records on Bandcamp

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Blake Hornsby, A Village of Many Springs

It probably goes without saying — at least it should — that while the classic folk fingerplucking of “Whispering Waters” and the Americana-busy “Laurel Creek Blues” give a sweet introduction to Blake Hornsby‘s A Village of Many Springs, inevitably it’s the 23-minute experimentalist spread of the finale, “Bury My Soul in the Linville River,” that’s going to be a focal point for many listeners, and fair enough. The earthbound-cosmic feel of that piece, its devolution into Lennon-circa-1968 tape noise and concluding drone, aren’t at all without preface. A Village of Many Springs gets weirder as it goes, with the eight-minute “Cathedral Falls” building over its time into a payoff of seemingly on-guitar violence, and the subsequent “O How the Water Flows” nestling into a sweet spot between Appalachian nostalgia and foreboding twang. There’s percussion and manipulation of noise later, too, but even in its repetition, “O How the Water Flows” continues Hornsby‘s trajectory. For what’s apparently an ode to water in the region surrounding Hornsby‘s home in Asheville, North Carolina, that it feels fluid should be no surprise, but by no means does one need to have visited Laurel Creek to appreciate the blues Hornsby conjures for them.

Blake Hornsby on Facebook

Echodelick Records website

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Congulus, G​ö​ç​ebe

With a sensibility in some of the synth of “Hacamat” born of space rock, Congulus have no trouble moving from that to the 1990s-style alt-rock saunter of “Diri Bir Nefes,” furthering the momentum already on the Istanbul-based instrumentalist trio’s side after opener “İskeletin Düğün Halayı” before “Senin Sırlarının Yenilmez Gücünü Gördüm” spaces out its solo over scales out of Turkish folk and “Park” marries together the divergent chugs of Judas Priest and Meshuggah, there’s plenty of adventure to be had on Göç​ebe. It’s the band’s second full-length behind 2019’s Bozk​ı​r — they’ve had short releases between — and it moves from “Park” into the push of “Zarzaram” and “Vordonisi” with efficiency that’s only deceptive because there’s so much stylistic range, letting “Ulak” have its open sway and still bash away for a moment or two before “Sonunda Ah Çekeriz Derinden” closes by tying space rock, Mediterranean traditionalism and modern boogie together in one last jam before consigning the listener back to the harsher, decidedly less utopian vibes of reality.

Congulus on Facebook

Congulus on Bandcamp

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Oh hi, I didn’t see you there. Me? Oh, you know. Nothing much. Staring off a cliffside about to jump headfirst into a pool of 100 records. The usual.

I’m pretty sure this is the second time this year that a single Quarterly Review has needed to be two weeks long. It’s been a busy year, granted, but still. I keep waiting for the tide to ebb, but it hasn’t really at all. Older bands keep going, or a lot of them do, anyhow — or they come back — and new bands come up. But for all the war, famine, plague and strife and crisis and such, it’s a golden age.

But hey, don’t let me keep you. I’ve apparently been doing QRs since 2013, and I remember trying to find a way to squeeze together similar roundups before it. I have no insight to add about that, it’s just something I dug back to find out the other day and was surprised because 11 years of this kind of thing is a really long gosh darn time.

On that note, let’s go.

Quarterly Review #1-10:

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Agusa, Noir

The included bits of Swedish dialogue from the short film for which Agusa‘s Noir was written to serve as a soundtrack would probably ground the proceedings some if I spoke Swedish, admittedly. As it is, those voices become part of the dream world the Malmö-based otherwise-instrumentalist adventurers conjure across 15 at times wildly divergent pieces. In arrangement and resultant mood, from the ’70s piano sentimentality of “Ljusglimtar” to the darker church organ and flute workings of “Stad i mörker,” which is reprised as a dirge at the end, the tracks are evocative across a swath of atmospheres, and it’s not all drones or background noise. They get their rock in, and if you stick around for “Kalkbrottets hemlighet,” you get to have the extra pleasure of hearing the guitar eat the rest of the song. You could say that’s not a thing you care about hearing but I know it’d be a lie, so don’t bother. If you’ve hesitated to take on Agusa in the past because sometimes generally-longform instrumental progressive psychedelic heavy rock can be a lot when you’re trying to get to know it, consider Noir‘s shorter inclusions a decent entry point to the band. Each one is like a brief snippet serving as another demonstration of the kind of immersion they can bring to what they play.

Agusa on Facebook

Kommun 2 website

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Octoploid, Beyond the Aeons

With an assembled cast of singers that includes Mikko Kotamäki (Swallow the Sun), his Amorphis bandmates Tomi Koivusaari and Tomi Joutsen, Petri Eskelinen of Rapture, and Barren Earth bandmate Jón Aldará, and guests on lead guitar and a drummer from the underappreciated Mannhai, and Barren Earth‘s keyboardist sitting in for good measure, bassist Olli Pekka-Laine harnesses a spectacularly Finnish take on proggy death-psych metal for Octoploid‘s first long-player, Beyond the Aeons. The songs feel extrapolated from Amorphis circa Elegy, putting guttural vocals to folk inspired guitar twists and prog-rock grooves, but aren’t trying to be that at all, and as ferocious as it gets, there’s always some brighter element happening, something cosmic or folkish or on the title-track both, and Octoploid feels like an expression of creative freedom based on a vision of a kind of music Pekka-Laine wanted to hear. I want to hear it too.

Octoploid on Facebook

Reigning Phoenix Music website

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The Obscure River Experiment, The Ore

The Obscure River Experiment, as a group collected together for the live performance from which The Ore has been culled, may or may not be a band. It is comprised of players from the sphere of Psychedelic Source Records, and so as members of River Flows Reverse, Obscure Supersession Collective, Los Tayos and others collaborate here in these four periodically scorching jams — looking at you, middle of “Soul’s Shiver Pt. 2” — it could be something that’ll happen again next week or next never. Not knowing is part of the fun, because as far out as something like The Obscure River Experiment might and in fact does go, there’s chemistry enough between all of these players to hold it together. “Soul Shiver Pt. 1” wakes up and introduces the band, “Pt. 2” blows it out for a while, “I See Horses” gets funky and then blows it out, and “The Moon in Flesh and Bone” feels immediately ceremonial with its sustained organ notes, but becomes a cosmic boogie ripper, complete with a welcome return of vocals. Was it all made up on the spot? Was it all a dream? Maybe both?

Psychedelic Source Records on Spotify

Psychedelic Source Records on Bandcamp

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Shun, Dismantle

Way underhyped South Carolinian progressive heavy rockers Shun arrive at the sound of their second LP, Dismantle, able to conjure elements of The Cure and Katatonia alongside Cave In-style punk-born groove, but in Shun‘s case, the underlying foundation is noise rock, so when “Aviator” opens up to its hook or “NRNS” is suddenly careening pummel or “Drawing Names” half-times the drums to get bigger behind the forward/obvious-focal-point vocal melodies of Matt Whitehead (ex-Throttlerod), there’s reach and impact working in conjunction with a thoughtful songwriting process pushed forward from where on their 2021 self-titled debut (review here) but that still seems to be actively working to engage the listener. That’s not a complaint, mind you, especially since Dismantle succeeds to vividly in doing so, and continues to offer nuance and twists on the plot right up to the willful slog ending with (most of) “Interstellar.”

Shun on Facebook

Small Stone Records website

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No Man’s Valley, Chrononaut Cocktail Bar/Flight of the Sloths

Whether it’s the brooding Nick Cave-style cabaret minimalism of “Creepoid Blues,” the ’60s psych of “Love” or the lush progressivism that emerges in “Seeing Things,” the hook of “Shapeshifter” or “Orange Juice” coming in with shaker at the end to keep things from finishing too melancholy, the first half of No Man’s Valley‘s Chrononaut Cocktail Bar/Flight of the Sloths still can only account for part of the scope as they set forth the pastoralist launch of the 18-minute “Flight of the Sloths” on side B, moving from acoustic strum and a repeating title line into a gradual build effective enough so that when Jasper Hesselink returns on vocals 13 minutes later in the spaced-out payoff — because yes, the sloths are flying between planets; was there any doubt? — it makes you want to believe the sloths are out there working hard to stay in the air. The real kicker? No Man’s Valley are no less considered in how they bring “Flight of the Sloths” up and down across its span than they are “Love” or “Shapeshifter” early on, both under three minutes long. And that’s what maturing as songwriters can do for you, though No Man’s Valley have always had a leg up in that regard.

No Man’s Valley on Facebook

No Man’s Valley on Bandcamp

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Land Mammal, Emergence

Dallas’ Land Mammal defy expectation a few times over on their second full-length, with the songwriting of Will Weise and Kinsley August turning toward greater depth of arrangement and more meditative atmospheres across the nine songs/34 minutes of Emergence, which even in a rolling groove like “Divide” has room for flute and strings. Elsewhere, sitar and tanpura meet with lap steel and keyboard as Land Mammal search for an individual approach to modern progressive heavy. There’s some shades of Elder in August‘s approach on “I Am” or the earlier “Tear You Down,” but the instrumental contexts surrounding are wildly different, and Land Mammal thrive in the details, be it the hand-percussion and far-back fuzz colliding on “The Circle,” or the tabla and sitar, drums and keys as “Transcendence (Part I)” and “Transcendence (Part II)” finish, the latter with the sounds of getting out of the car and walking in the house for epilogue. Yeah, I guess after shifting the entire stylistic scope of your band you’d probably want to go inside and rest for a bit. Well earned.

Land Mammal on Facebook

Kozmik Artifactz store

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Forgotten King, The Seeker

Released through Majestic Mountain Records, the debut full-length from Forgotten King, The Seeker, would seem to have been composed and recorded entirely by Azul Josh Bisama, also guitarist in Kal-El, though a full lineup has since formed. That happens. Just means the second album will have a different dynamic than the first, and there are some parts as in the early cut “Lost” where that will be a benefit as Azul Josh refines the work laying out a largesse-minded, emotively-evocative approach on these six cuts, likewise weighted and soaring. The album is nothing if not aptly-named, though, as Forgotten King lumber through “Drag” and march across 10 minutes of stately atmospheric doom, eventually seeing the melodic vocals give way to harsher fare in the second half, what’s being sought seems to have been found at least on a conceptual level, and one might say the same of “Around the Corner” or “The Sun” taking familiar-leaning desert rock progressions and doing something decisively ‘else’ with them. Very much feels like the encouraging beginning of a longer exploration.

Forgotten King on Facebook

Majestic Mountain Records store

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Church of Hed, The Fifth Hour

Branched off from drummer/synthesist Paul Williams‘ intermittent work over the decades with Quarkspace, the mostly-solo-project Church of Hed explores progressive, kraut and space rock in a way one expects far more from Denmark than Columbus, Ohio — to wit, Jonathan Segel (Øresund Space Collective, Camper Van Beethoven) guests on violin, bass and guitar at various points throughout the nine-tracker, which indeed is about an hour long at 57 minutes. Church of Hed‘s last outing, 2022’s The Father Road, was an audio travelogue crossing the United States from one coast to the other. The Fifth Hour is rarely so concerned with terrestrial impressionism, and especially in its longer-form pieces “Pleiades Waypoint” (13:50), “Son of a Silicon Rogue” (14:59) or “The Fifth Hour” (8:43), it digs into sci-fi prog impulses that even in the weird blips and robot twists of the interlude “Aniluminescence 2” or the misshapen techno in the closing semi-reprise “Bastard Son of The Fifth Hour” never quite feels as dystopian as some other futures in the multiverse, and that becomes a strength.

Church of Hed on Facebook

Church of Hed website

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Zolle, Rosa

Like the Melvins on an AC/DC kick or what you might get if you took ’70s arena rock, put it in a can and shook it really, really hard, Italian duo Zolle are a burst of weirdo sensation on their fifth full-length, Rosa. The songs are ready for whatever football match stadium P.A. you might want to put them on — hugely, straight-ahead, uptempo, catchy, fun in pieces like “Pepe” and “Lana” at the outset, “Merda,” “Pompon,” “Confetto” and “Fiocco” later on, likewise huge and silly in “Pois” or closer “Maialini e Maialine,” and almost grounded on “Toffolette e Zuccherini” at the start but off and running again soon enough — if you can keep up with guitarist/vocalist Marcello and drummer Stefano, for sure they make it worth the effort, and capture some of the intensity of purpose they bring to the stage in the studio and at the same time highlighting the shenanigans writ large throughout in their riffs and the cheeky bit of pop grandiosity that’s such a toy in their hands. You would not call it light on persona.

Zolle on Facebook

Subsound Records website

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Shadow and Claw, Whereabouts Unknown

Thicker in tone than much of modern black metal, and willing toward the organic in a way that feels born of Cascadia a little more to the northwest as they blast away in “Era of Ash,” Boise, Idaho’s Shadow and Claw nonetheless execute moody rippers across the five songs/41 minute of their debut, Whereabouts Unknown. Known for his work in Ealdor Bealu and the solo-project Sawtooth Monk, guitarist/vocalist Travis Abbott showcases a rasp worthy of Enslaved‘s Grutle Kjellson on the 10-minute “Wrath of Thunder,” so while there are wolves amid the trio’s better chairs, to be sure, Shadow and Claw aren’t necessarily working from any single influence in or out of char-prone extreme metals, and as the centerpiece gives over to the eponymous “Shadow and Claw,” those progressive aspirations are reaffirmed as Abbott, drummer/backing vocalist Aaron Bossart (also samples) and bassist/backing vocalist Geno Lopez find room for a running-water-backed acoustic epilogue to “Scouring the Plane of Existence” and the album as a whole. Easy to imagine them casting these songs into the sunset on the side of some pointy Rocky Mountain or other, shadows cast and claws raised.

Shadow and Claw on Facebook

Shadow and Claw on Bandcamp

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Based in Asheville, North Carolina, Angelica and The Crooked Path is a newcomer four-piece who’ve made an initial showing in two separately released singles, “Lily” and “Creatures of Spring.” They call it “bloom metal,” and fair enough — what? I should argue? — and what that translates to in terms of the tracks is a heavy, lush and psychedelic atmosphere, able to dig into the crunchier-style riff of “Lily” or find a folkish pulse in “Creatures of Spring.” They call the latter their “more eclectic” work, which makes sense as it seems to have a broader stylistic reach and more open feel generally, but putting the two songs next to each other is where you really get a fuller picture of the potential here.

So that’s what I did. You’ll find both “Lily” and “Creatures of Spring” below. Both were posted in June. For what it’s worth, I heard “Lily” first. I won’t tell you what order to listen to them in, but if you start “Creatures of Spring,” take my advice and stick with it. I’d take an album of this immediately if such a thing existed. Since not, I’ll just look forward to more from them.

From the PR wire:

Newcomers Angelica & The Crooked Path Introduce Bloom Metal with Two Singles

Hailing from the foothills of Southern Appalachia, Angelica & The Crooked Path defines their style as “bloom metal,” combining elements of shimmering sludge and dream-pop. Carving out their own niche, their aesthetic blurs the edges of the amp-worshiping riff genres, hypnagogic and alluring. The Asheville, NC-based quartet has marked their arrival with two singles: “Lily” and “Creatures of Spring.” The latter draws inspiration from the myth of Elizabeth Bathory and includes a quote from the 1992 black fantasy comedy Death Becomes Her.

States Angelica & The Crooked Path:
“We made our debut late this spring with two singles. The first, ‘Lily,’ aims to demonstrate our contrasting heaviness and sense of melody by fusing lumbering sludge riffs with celestial female vocals and a chorus with a hook. The second, ‘Creatures of Spring,’ is our more adventurous offering, showing an eclectic range of influence from genres such as post-rock, choral music, and jazz.”

Both songs are mastered by Ryan Williams and produced, engineered, and mixed by Dave Kaminsky at Studio Wormwood (www.studiowormwood.com).

Angelica & The Crooked Path is:
Esmé – vocals
Gerri – bass
Nicholas – drums
Ursula – guitar

https://angelicadoom.com
https://www.instagram.com/angelicadoom
https://www.tiktok.com/@angelicadoom
https://angelicadoom.bandcamp.com
https://open.spotify.com/track/4lotet7VAzojrSiuPZVeI7
https://www.youtube.com/@AngelicaDoom

Angelica and the Crooked Path, “Creatures of Spring”

Angelica and the Crooked Path, “Lily”

At least part of the PR wire text below comes from the bio I wrote for Shun‘s second full-length, Dismantle, which is coming out through Small Stone Records on July 19. I think from after the first sentence through the part where Matt Whitehead comments on the first single “Drawing Names,” maybe? There was a press quote in there too, but yeah. In any case, let the point here be the song, since as the guy who wrote the bio I’ll tell you outright you and the band both are probably better served just by hearing the song, which is in the embed at the bottom of the post.

Heavy post-hardcore rock? Emo-informed progressive grungegaze? I don’t know how you categorize it — which should make writing the review a blast — but Dismantle follows behind the Shun‘s 2021 self-titled debut (review here), and I didn’t know how to categorize that either, but I enjoyed it. The new one’s a banger too, as it happens.

Info follows in blue. You know what’s up:

SHUN: North/South Carolina Rock Outfit To Release Dismantle Full-Length July 19th Via Small Stone Recordings; New Single Now Playing + Preorders Available

North/South Carolina heavy rock outfit SHUN will release their long-awaited new full-length, Dismantle, July 19th via Small Stone Recordings!

SHUN released their self-titled debut through Small Stone in 2021. Dismantle continues several crucial threads from the debut in terms of songwriting and the returning production of J. Robbins (who also contributes percussion, guitar, and synth), while expanding their scope with a more refined crunch and drifting, ethereal outreach. It is heavier and paints a broader landscape in Matt Whitehead’s vocal and guitar melodies, able to take a prog-metal chug in “Horses” and reshape it as the backdrop for weighted post-rock while refusing to sap its own vitality in service to shoegazey posturing.

Punk and noise rock such as Cave In and Hum feel like touchstones as much as Sabbath and whom- or whatever might’ve inspired the crush tucked at the end of “You’re The Sea,” and while Dismantle may hint as a title at notions of things coming apart, there’s as much being built in its ten tracks as is being destroyed. What results from the trio of Whitehead, bassist Jeff Baucom, and drummer Rob Elzey (Bo Leslie has since joined on guitar, re-completing the lineup) is material varied in its purpose but drawn together in traditional fashion by the electricity of its performances. The band-in-the-room feel in the methodical rollout of opener “Blind Eye” is all the more resonant with the debut having been remotely assembled during plague lockdowns.

Does that make Dismantle something like a second first album? Not really, but if it helps you get on board, you probably won’t get a ton of arguments. While Whitehead’s past in Small Stone denizens Throttlerod is still relevant to SHUN in some essential and riffy ways, SHUN steps forward with Dismantle and declares their meld of styles in tracks like “The Getaway” and “Interstellar” which are able to push, pull, crash down loud, or recede into float as they will. That they’d wield such command in their craft likely won’t be a surprise to those who took on the self-titled, but among the things Dismantle undoes, it strips the listener of expectations and replaces them with its unflinching creativity and refreshingly forward-looking take.

Comments Whitehead on the band’s first single, “‘Drawing Names’ was written in its entirety in under 30 minutes while jamming at our drummer’s house. I’ve found those quick-to-come-together songs that aren’t over-thought and overworked often turn out the best… go figure. The recording of the track was super fun and collaborative as well. I’ll never forget J. Robbins crouched down by my delay pedals turning knobs while I played one section. And then he later added a double tambourine part in the chorus which we absolutely loved.”

Dismantle, which features artwork by Alexander Von Wieding, will be released on CD, limited LP, and digital formats. Find preorders at THIS LOCATION: https://smallstone.bandcamp.com/album/dismantle

Fans of Torche, Cave In, Alice In Chains, Failure, ASG, and huge riffs, pay heed.

Dismantle Track Listing:
1. Blind Eye
2. Aviator
3. Horses
4. Drawing Names
5. Storms
6. NRNS
7. You’re The Sea
8. The Getaway
9. Through The Looking Glass
10. Interstellar

SHUN – Dismantle Record Release Shows:
7/19/2024 The Odditorium – Asheville, NC
7/20/2024 Swanson’s Warehouse – Greenville, SC
7/26/2024 New Brookland Tavern – Columbia, SC
8/02/2024 185 King – Brevard, NC

SHUN:
Matt Whitehead – guitar, vocals
Rob Elzey – drums
Jeff Baucom – bass
Additional musicians:
J. Robbins – percussion, synths, guitar
Bo Leslie – guitar

https://www.facebook.com/ShunTheBand
https://www.instagram.com/Shuntheband
http://shuntheband.bandcamp.com

http://www.smallstone.com
http://www.facebook.com/smallstonerecords
http://www.instagram.com/smallstonerecords
https://smallstone.bandcamp.com/

Shun, Dismantle (2024)

This is the next-to-last day of this Quarterly Review, and while it’s been a lot, it’s been encouraging to dig into so much stuff in such intense fashion. I’ve added a few releases to my notes for year-end lists, but more importantly, I’ve gotten to hear and cover stuff that otherwise I might not, and that’s the value at a QR has for me at its core, so while we’re not through yet, I’ll just say thanks again for reading and that I hope you’ve also found something that speaks to you in these many blocks of text and embedded streaming players. If not, there’s still 20 records to go, so take comfort in that as needed.

Quarterly Review #81-90:

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Harvestman, Triptych: Part One

The weirdo-psych experimental project of Steve Von Till (now ex-Neurosis, which is still sad on a couple levels) begins a released-according-to-lunar-orbit trilogy of albums in Triptych: Part One, which is headlined by opening track “Psilosynth,” boasting a guest appearance from Al Cisneros (Sleep, Om) on bass. If those two want to start an outsider-art dub-drone band together, my middle-aged burnout self is here for it — “Psilosynth (Harvest Dub),” a title that could hardly be more Von Till and Cisneros, appears a little later, which suggests they might also be on board — but that’s only part of the world being created in Triptych: Part One as “Mare and Foal” manipulates bagpipes into ghostly melodies, “Give Your Heart to the Hawk” echoes poetry over ambient strum, “Coma” and “How to Purify Mercury” layer synthesized drone and/or effects-guitar to sci-fi affect and “Nocturnal Field Song” finds YOB‘s Dave French banging away on something metal in the background while the crickets chirp. The abiding spirit is subdued, exploratory as Von Till‘s solo works perpetually are, and even as the story is only a third told, the immersion on Triptych: Part One goes as deep as the listener is willing to let it. I look forward to being a couple moons late reviewing the next installment.

Harvestman on Facebook

Neurot Recordings website

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Kalgon, Kalgon

As they make their self-titled full-length debut, Asheville, North Carolina’s Kalgon lay claim to a deceptive wide swath of territory even separate from the thrashier departure “Apocalyptic Meiosis” as they lumber through “The Isolate” and the more melodic “Grade of the Slope,” stoner-doom leaning into psych and more cosmic vibing, with the mournful “Windigo” leading into “Eye of the Needle”‘s slo-mo-stoner-swing and gutted out vocals turning to Beatlesy melody — guitarist Brandon Davis and bassist Berten Lee Tanner share those duties while Marc Russo rounds out the trio on drums — in its still-marching second half and the post-Pallbearer reaches and acoustic finish of “Setting Sun.” An interlude serves as centerpiece between “Apocalyptic Meiosis” and “Windigo,” and that two-plus-minute excursion into wavy drone and amplifier hum works well to keep a sense of flow as the next track crashes in, but more, it speaks to longer term possibilities for how the band might grow, both in terms of what they do sonically and in their already-clear penchant for seeing their first LP as a whole, single work with its own progression and story to tell.

Kalgon on Facebook

Kalgon on Bandcamp

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Agriculture, Living is Easy

Surely there’s some element in Agriculture‘s self-applied aesthetic frame of “ecstatic black metal” in the power of suggestion, but as they follow-up their 2022 self-titled debut with the four-song Living is Easy EP and move from the major-key lightburst of the title-track into the endearingly, organically, folkishly strained harmonies of “Being Eaten by a Tiger,” renew the overwhelming blasts of tremolo and seared screams on “In the House of Angel Flesh” and round out with a minute of spoken word recitation in “When You Were Born,” guitarists Richard Chowenhill (also credited with co-engineering, mixing and mastering) and Dan Meyer (also vocals), bassist/vocalist Leah B. Levinson and drummer/percussionist Kern Haug present an innovative perspective on the genre that reminds of nothing so much as the manner in which earliest Wolves in the Throne Room showed that black metal could do something more than it had done previously. That’s not a sonic comparison, necessarily — though there are basic stylistic aspects shared between the two — but more about the way Agriculture are using black metal toward purposefully new expressive ends. I’m not Mr. Char by any means, but it’s been probably that long since the last time I heard something that was so definitively black metal and worked as much to refresh what that means.

Agriculture on Facebook

The Flenser website

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Saltpig, Saltpig

Apparently self-released by the intercontinental duo last Fall and picked up for issue through Heavy Psych Sounds, Saltpig‘s self-titled debut modernizes classic charge and swing in increasingly doomed fashion across the first four songs of its A-side, laces “Burn the Witch” with samples themed around the titular subject, and dedicates all of side B to the blown out mostly-instrumental roll of “1950,” which is in fact 19 minutes and 50 seconds long. The band, comprised of guitarist/vocalist/noisemaker Mitch Davis (also producer for a swath of more commercially viable fare) and drummer Fabio Alessandrini (ex-Annihilator), are based in New York and Italy, respectively, and whatever on earth might’ve brought them together, in both the heavy-garage strut of “Demon” and the willfully harsh manner in which they represent themselves in the record’s back half, they bask in the rougher edges of their tones and approach more generally. “When You Were Dead” is something of a preface in its thicker distortion to “1950,” but its cavernous shouted vocals retain a psychedelic presence amid the ensuing grit, whereas once the closer gets underway from its feedback-soaked first two minutes, they make it plain there’s no coming back.

Saltpig on Facebook

Heavy Psych Sounds website

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Druidess, Hermits and Mandrakes

Newcomer UK doomers Druidess nod forth on their debut EP, Hermits and Mandrakes, with a buzzing tonality in “Witches’ Sabbath” that’s distinctly more Monolord than Electric Wizard, and while that’s fascinating academically and in terms of the generational shift happening in the heavy underground over the last few years, the fuzz that accompanies the hook of “Mandragora,” which follows, brings a tempo boost that situates the two-piece of vocalist Shonagh Brown and multi-instrumentalist/producer Daniel Downing (guitar, bass, keys, drum programming; he even had a hand in the artwork, apparently) in a more rocking vein. It’s heavy either way you go, and “Knightingales” brings Green Lung-style organ into the mix along with another standout hook before “The Hermit of Druid’s Temple” signs over its soul to faster Sabbath worship and closer “The Forest Witches’ Daughter” underscores the commitment to same in combination with a more occult thematic. It’s familiar-enough terrain, ultimately, but the heft they conjure early on and the movement they bring to it later should be plenty to catch ears among the similarly converted, and in song and performance they display a self-awareness of craft that is no less a source of their potential.

Druidess on Facebook

Druidess on Bandcamp

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Astral Construct, Traveling a Higher Consciousness

One-man sans-vocals psych outfit Astral Construct — aka Denver-based multi-instrumentalist Drew Patricks — released Traveling a Higher Consciousness last year, and well, I guess I got lost in a temporal wormhole or some such because it’s not last year anymore. The record’s five-track journey is encompassing in its metal-rooted take on heavy psychedelia, however, and that’s fortunate as “Accessing the Mind’s Eye” solidifies from its languid first-half unfolding into more stately progressive riffage. Bookended by the dreamy manifestation of “Heart of the Nebula” (8:12) and “Interstellar” (9:26), which moves between marching declaration and expansive helium-guitar float, the album touches ground in centerpiece “The Traveler,” but even there could hardly be called terrestrial once the drums drop out and the keys sweep in near the quick-fade finish that brings about the more angular “Long View of Astral Consciousness,” that penultimate track daring a bit of double-kick in the drums heading toward its own culmination. Now, then or future, whether it’s looking inward or out, Traveling a Higher Consciousness is a revelry for the cosmos waiting to be engaged. You might just end up in a different year upon hearing it.

Astral Construct on Facebook

Astral Construct on Bandcamp

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Ainu, Ainu

Although their moniker comes from an indigenous group who lived on Hokkaido before that island became part of modern Japan, Ainu are based in Genoa, Italy, and their self-titled debut has little to do sound-wise with the people or their culture. Fair enough. Ainu‘s Ainu, which starts out in “Il Faro” with sparse atmospheric guitar and someone yelling at you in Italian presumably about the sea (around which the record is themed), uses speech and samples to hold most positions vocals would otherwise occupy, though the two-minute “D.E.V.S.” is almost entirely voice-based, so the rules aren’t so strictly applied one way or the other. Similarly, as the three-piece course between grounded sludgier progressions and drifting post-heavy, touching on more aggressive moods in the late reaches of “Aiutami A. Ricordare” and the nodding culmination of “Khrono” but letting the breadth of “Call of the Sea” unfold across divergent movements of crunchier riffs and operatic prog grandiosity. You would not call it predictable, however tidal the flow from one piece to the next might be.

Ainu on Facebook

Subsound Records website

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Grid, The World Before Us

Progressive sludge set to a backdrop of science-fiction and extrasolar range, The World Before Us marks a turn from heretofore instrumental New York trio Grid, who not only feature vocals throughout their 38-minute six-tracker third LP, but vary their approach in that regard such that as “Our History Hidden” takes hold following the keyboardy intro “Singularity” (in we go!), the first three of the song’s 12 minutes find them shifting from sub-soaring melodicism to hard-growled metallic crunch with the comfort of an act who’ve been pulling off such things for much longer. The subsequent “Traversing the Interstellar Gateway” (9:31) works toward similar ends, only with guitar instead of singing, and the standout galloping kickdrum of “Architects of Our World” leads to a deeper dig into the back and forth between melody and dissonance, led into by the threatening effects manipulations of the interlude “Contact” and eventually giving over to the capstone outro “Duality” that, if it needs to be said, mirrors “Singularity” at the start. There’s nuance and texture in this interplay between styles — POV: you dig Opeth and Hawkwind — and my suspicion is that if Grid keep to this methodology going forward, the vocal arrangements will continue to evolve along with the rest of the band’s expanding-in-all-directions stylizations.

Grid on Facebook

Grid on Bandcamp

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Dätcha Mandala, Koda

The stated intentions of Bordeaux, France’s Dätcha Mandala in bringing elements of ’90s British alternative rock into their heavier context with their Koda LP are audible in opener “She Said” and the title-track that follows it, but it’s the underlying thread of heavy rock that wins the day across the 11-song outing, however danceable “Wild Fire” makes it or however attitude-signaling the belly-belch that starts “Thousand Pieces” is in itself. That’s not to say Koda doesn’t succeed at what it’s doing, just that there’s more to the proceedings than playing toward that particular vision of cool. “It’s Not Only Rock and Roll (And We Don’t Like It)” has fuzzy charm and a hook to boot, while “Om Namah Shivaya” ignites with an energy that is proggy and urgent in kind — the kind of song that makes you a fan at the show even if you’ve never heard the band before — and closer “Homeland” dares some burl amid its harmonized chorus and flowing final guitar solo, answering back to the post-burp chug in “Thousand Pieces” and underscoring the multifaceted nature of the album as a whole. I suppose if you have prior experience with Dätcha Mandala, you know they’re not just about one thing, but for newcomers, expect happy surprises.

Dätcha Mandala on Facebook

Discos Macarras Records website

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Dr. Space Meets Mr. Mekon, The Bubbles Scopes

Given the principals involved — Scott “Dr. Space” Heller of Øresund Space Collective, Black Moon Circle, et al, and Chris Purdon of Hawklords and Nik Turner’s Space Ritual — it should come as no surprise that The Bubbles Scopes complements its grammatical counterintuitiveness with alien soundscape concoctions of synth-based potency; the adventure into the unknown-until-it’s-recorded palpable across two extended tracks suitably titled “Trip 1” (22:56) and “Trip 2” (15:45). Longform waveforms, both. The collaboration — one of at least two Heller has slated for release this Spring; stay tuned tomorrow — makes it clear from the very beginning that the far-out course The Bubbles Scopes follows is for those who dwell in rooms with melting walls, but in the various pulsations and throbs of “Trip 1,’ the transition from organ to more electronic-feeling keyboard, and so on, human presence is no more absent than they want it to be, and while the loops are dizzying and “Trip 2” seems to reach into different dimensions with its depth of mix, when the scope is so wide, the sounds almost can’t help but feel free. And so they do. They put 30 copies on tape, because even in space all things digitalia are ephemeral. If you want one, engage your FOMO and make it happen because the chance may or may not come again.

Dr. Space on Facebook

Dr. Space on Bandcamp

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Based in the weirdo hotspot of Asheville, North Carolina, double-guitar prog-sludge newcomers Shadowcloak are set to issue their self-titled debut EP on May 3. Info is fairly sparse on the five-piece, but drummer Zane Oskins and vocalist Dave Gayler have both been in the more metallic As Sick as Us at one point or another, tonally-recognizable guitarist Adrian Lee Zambrano is an Ohio transplant known for his work heavy-progressives Brujas Del Sol (he was also in Lo-Pan for a stretch about a decade ago), and bassist Paul McBride — who leads the way into opening track “Dark Days” on the EP and has since been replaced by Jacob Barr — plays in Voraath, so if you’re looking to account for a variety of influence in the lineup completed by guitarist Bryan Wiedenhoeft, you don’t have to dig particularly deep to do so. And listening through, you might just be inspired to do that digging.

Shadowcloak‘s Shadowcloak runs 28 minutes, and they probably could have called it their first album if they’d wanted to, but that they didn’t speaks to an intention toward development going forward, and while the aforementioned “Dark Days” unfolds from its short atmospheric intro into a pointed, driving groove, guitars aligned in chug and Gayler‘s throaty bark echoing overtop in rhythmic lockstep, seeming to recede into itself at the end of the chorus before coming forward again in the next verse. But while it’s quick, that build-up intro is the first hint of Shadowcloak‘s ambient side, and as “Dark Days” shifts post-midpoint into an effects-strewn proggy break, it becomes clear there’s more at work than post-hardcore-rooted sludge, and the airy solo that serves as crescendo soon enough confirms it.

The sense of a group exploring ideas and collective craft — and whether you’ve been in a band before or not, when you’re in a new one that exploration begins again — is palpable, but “Night After Night” begins a process whereby each individual piece adds something to the total, flowing impression of the EP, cutting back on some of the insistence in terms of pace without giving up the leadoff’s aggressive edge in the more melodic chorus. “Night After Night” has a break/build in its second half as well, dropping its title-line before Oskins does a handful of laps around the toms and the bass and guitars realign around correspondingly spacious effects and the solo that follows. But the chorus comes back to end “Night After Night,” and the push into melody continues instrumentally as centerpiece “Leave Me My Name” unfurls its more subdued outset before, as will happen, diving headfirst into more grueling, crunching sludge.

But they’re not done, and “Leave Me My Name” starts bringing what are intuitively thought of as different sides together with “Everything is Gone” and “Discomfort/Disorder” — which is premiering below and is one of the earlier songs written; go figure — following suit after. Some cleaner-sung lines in “Leave Me My Name” complement the sustained chorus shouts just as the sharper stops of the riff are met with more sprawling lines, and “Everything is Gone” brings a verse left purposefully open with the vocal melody at the fore of the mix, on their own, instead of answering back to the central shouts as in “Leave Me My Name.” This linear narrative, the movement between the songs included, comes to define a significant aspect of Shadowcloak‘s persona as a release, flows readily despite the corners being turned, and comes off less like a ‘concept-album’ (or EP, as it were) than a band who understand how to set up their material to enact a communication with itself. And the resulting conversation is part of what they’re exploring here for the first time as a new group.

And when it comes time to enter its sway, the harmonized Crowbarry riff pulls of “Discomfort/Disorder” and grounded movement of the verse in the shortest track of the five still leave room for post-metallic flourish and rawer-sounding vocal emoting. They’ll top it off with an all-in chug-shove to finish, but the break-and-build structure is present too as Shadowcloak call back to how they set forth and present a concise summary of most (I wouldn’t say all) of the EP’s scope, and likewise showcase the potential for creative growth and expanding on the ideas presented here. We live in a universe of infinite possibilities, so that may or may not happen, but by the end of Shadowcloak‘s sub-half-hour, it’s pretty clear they’ve figured more than a few things out.

“Discomfort/Disorder” premieres on the player below, followed by a quote from the band and more info hoisted off the PR wire.

Try something new:

Shadowcloak, “Discomfort/Disorder” track premiere

Shadowcloak on “Discomfort/Disorder”:

“Discomfort/Disorder is one of the first songs we wrote together as a band. It really set the tone for how we wanted to approach this project— with a balance of raw and cleaner vocals, Discomfort/Disorder is heavy, progressive and driving. Funnily enough, it’s where we ended up taking our band name from. Lyrically it touches on feelings of loneliness, acceptance and inevitable heaviness of decisions made.”

Forged in the smoke-strewn mountains of Asheville, North Carolina in 2023, Shadowcloak summons the spirits of bands like Mastodon, Cult of Luna, and Pelican.

Crafting ardently patient movements with delicate synth, deep fusions of inspired guitar work and raw, methodical drumming, Shadowcloak hurdles listeners through vacuous space. On the other side is a sense of calm and completion through Shadowcloak’s unique brand of visceral storytelling.

Tracklisting:
1. Dark Days
2. Night After Night
3. Leave Me My Name
4. Everything is Gone
5. Discomfort/Disorder

Shadowcloak are:
Adrian Lee Zambrano: guitar
Dave Gayler: vocals
Zane Oskins: drums
Jacob Barr: bass
Bryan Wiedenhoeft: guitar

Paul McBride played bass on the album.

Shadowcloak on Facebook

Shadowcloak on Instagram

Shadowcloak on Bandcamp

So here we are. On the verge of two weeks, 100 records later. My message here is the same as ever: I’m tired and I hope you found something worthwhile. A lot of this was catchup for me — still is, see Gaupa below — but maybe something slipped through the cracks for you in 2022 that got a look here, or maybe not and you’re not even seeing this and it doesn’t matter anyway and what even is music, etc., etc. I don’t know.

A couple bands were stoked along the way. That’s fun, I guess. Mostly I’ve been trying to keep in mind that I’m doing this for myself, because, yeah, there’s probably no other way I was going to get to cover these 100 albums, and I feel like the site is stronger for having done so, at least mostly. I guess shrug and move on. Next week is back to normal reviews, premieres and all that. I think March we’ll do this again, maybe try to keep it to five or six days. Two 100-record QRs in a row has been a lot.

But again, thanks if you’ve kept up at all. I’m gonna soak my head in these and then cover it with a pillow for a couple days to keep the riffs out. Just kidding, I’ll be up tomorrow morning writing. Like a sucker.

Winter 2023 Quarterly Review #91-100:

Gaupa, Myriad

Beginning with the hooky “Exoskeleton” and “Diametrical Enchantress,” Myriad is the second full-length from Sweden’s Gaupa (their first for Nuclear Blast), and a bringing together of terrestrial and ethereal heavy elements. Even at its most raucous, Gaupa‘s material floats, and even at its most floating, there is a plan at work, a story unfolding, and an underlying structure to support them. From the minimalist start of “Moloken” to the boogie rampage of “My Sister is a Very Angry Man,” the Swedefolk of “Sömnen,” the tension and explosions of “RA,” with the theatrical-but-can-also-really-sing, soulful vocals of Emma Näslund at the forefront, a proggy and atmospheric cut like “Elden” — which becomes an intense battery by the time it hits its apex; I’ve heard that about aging — retains a distinct human presence, and the guitar work of Daniel Nygren and David Rosberg, Erik Sävström‘s bass and Jimmy Hurtig‘s drums are sharp in their turns and warm in their tones, creating a fluidity that carries the five-piece to the heavy immersion of “Mammon,” where Näslund seems to find another, almost Bjork-ish level of command in her voice before, at 5:27 into the song’s 7:36, the band behind her kicks into the heaviest roll of the album; a shove by the time they’re done. Can’t ask for more. Some records just have everything.

Gaupa on Facebook

Nuclear Blast Records store

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Orango, Mohican

Six albums in, let’s just all take a minute to be glad Orango are still at it. The Oslo-based harmonybringers are wildly undervalued, now over 20 years into their tenure, and their eighth album, Mohican (which I’m not sure is appropriate to take as an album title unless you’re, say, a member of the Stockbridge-Munsee Community) is a pleasure cruise through classic heavy rock styles. From opener/longest track (immediate points) “The Creek” twisting through harder riffing and more melodic range than most acts have in their entire career, through the memorable swagger in the organ-laced “Fryin’,” the stadium-ready “Running Out of Reasons,” the later boogie of “War Camp” and shuffle in “Dust & Dirt” (presumably titled for what’s kicked up by said shuffle) and the softer-delivered complementary pair “Cold Wind” and “Ain’t No Road” ending each side of the LP with a mellow but still engaging wistfulness, nobody does the smooth sounds of the ’70s better, and Mohican is a triumph in showcasing what they do, songs like “Bring You Back Home” and the bluesier “Wild River Song” gorgeous and lush in their arrangements while holding onto a corresponding human sensibility, ever organic. There is little to do with Orango except be wowed and, again, be thankful they’ve got another collection of songs to bask in and singalong to. It’s cool if you’re off-key; nobody’s judging.

Orango on Facebook

Stickman Records website

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Onségen Ensemble, Realms

You never really know when a flute, a choir, or a digeridoo might show up, and that’s part of the fun with Onségen Ensemble‘s six-track Realms LP, which goes full-Morricone in “Naked Sky” only after digging into the ambient prog of “The Sleeping Lion” and en route to the cinematic keys and half-speed King Crimson riffing of “Abysmal Sun,” which becomes a righteous melodic wash. The Finnish natives’ fourth LP, its vinyl pressing was crowdfunded through Bandcamp for independent release, and while the guitar in “Collapsing Star” calls back to “Naked Sky” and the later declarations roll out grandiose crashes, the horns of “The Ground of Being” set up a minimalist midsection only to return in even more choral form, and “I’m Here No Matter What” resolves in both epic keys/voices and a clear, hard-strummed guitar riff, the name Realms feels not at all coincidental. This is worldbuilding, setting a full three-dimensional sphere in which these six pieces flow together to make the 40-minute entirety of the album. The outright care put into making them, the sense of purpose, and the individualized success of the results, shouldn’t be understated. Onségen Ensemble are becoming, and so have become, a treasure of heavy, enveloping progressive sounds, and without coming across as contrived, Realms has a painterly sensibility that resonates joy.

Onségen Ensemble on Facebook

Onségen Ensemble on Bandcamp

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Gypsy Wizard Queen, Gypsy Wizard Queen

Chad Heille (ex-Egypt, currently also El Supremo) drums in this Fargo, North Dakota, three-piece completed by guitarist/vocalist/engineer Chris Ellingson and bassist/vocalist Mitch Martin, and the heavy bluesy groove they emit as they unfurl “Witch Lung,” their self-titled debut’s 10-minute opener and longest track (immediate points), is likewise righteous and hypnotic. Even as “Paranoid Humanoid” kicks into its chorus on Heille‘s steady thud and a winding lead from Ellingson, one wouldn’t call their pace hurried, and while I’d like to shake everyone in the band’s hand for having come up with the song title “Yeti Davis Eyes” — wow; nicely done — the wandering jam itself is even more satisfying, arriving along its instrumental course at a purely stoner rock janga-janga before it’s finished and turns over to the final two tracks, “The Good Ride” and “Stoned Age,” both shorter, with the former also following an instrumental path, classically informed but modern in its surge, and the latter seeming to find all the gallop and shove that was held back from elsewhere and loosing it in one showstopping six-minute burst. I’d watch this live set, happily. Reminds a bit of Geezer on paper but has its own identity. Their sound isn’t necessarily innovative or trying to be, but their debut nonetheless establishes a heavy dynamic, shows their chemistry across a varied collection of songs, and offers a take on genre that’s welcome in the present and raises optimism for what they’ll do from here. It’s easy to dig, and I dig it.

Gypsy Wizard Queen on Facebook

Gypsy Wizard Queen on Bandcamp

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Blake Hornsby, A Collection of Traditional Folk Songs & Tunes Vol. 1

It’s not quite as stark a contrast as one might think to hear Asheville, North Carolina’s Blake Hornsby go from banjo instrumentalism to more lush, sitar-infused arrangements for the final three songs on his A Collection of Traditional Folk Songs & Tunes Vol. 1, as bridging sounds across continents would seem to come organically to his style of folk. And while perhaps “Old Joe Clark” wasn’t written as a raga to start with, it certainly works as one here, answering the barebones runs of “John Brown’s Dream” with a fluidity that carries into the more meditative “Cruel Sister” and a drone-laced 13-minute take on the Appalachian traditional song “House Carpenter” (also done in various forms by Pentangle, Joan Baez, Myrkur, and a slew of others), obscure like a George Harrison home-recorded experiment circa Sgt. Pepper but sincere in its expression and cross-cultural scope. Thinking of the eight-tracker as an LP with two sides — one mostly if not entirely banjo tunes between one and two minutes long, the other an outward-expanding journey using side A as its foundation — might help, but the key word here is ‘collection,’ and part of Hornsby‘s art is bringing these pieces into his oeuvre, which he does regardless of the form they actually take. That is a credit to him and so is this album.

Blake Hornsby on Facebook

Ramble Records store

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Turbid North, The Decline

Oof that’s heavy. Produced by guitarist/vocalist Nick Forkel, who’s joined in the band by bassist Chris O’Toole (also Unearth) and drummer John “Jono” Garrett (also Mos Generator), Turbid North‘s The Decline is just as likely to be grind as doom at any given moment, as “Life Over Death” emphasizes before “Patients” goes full-on into brutality, and is the band’s fourth full-length and first since 2015. The 2023 release brings together 10 songs for 43 minutes that seem to grow more aggressive as they go, with “Eternal Dying” and “The Oppressor” serving as the opening statement with a lumber that will be held largely but not completely in check until the chugging, slamming plod of closer “Time” — which still manages to rage at its apex — while the likes of “Slaves,” “Drown in Agony” and “The Old Ones” dive into more extreme metallic fare. No complaints, except maybe for the bruises, but as “The Road” sneaks a stoner rock riff in early and some cleaner shouts in late amid Mastodonny noodling, there’s a playfulness that hints toward the trio enjoying themselves while doling out such punishment, and that gives added context and humanity to the likes of “A Dying Earth,” which is severe both in its ambient and more outright violent stretches. Not for everybody, but if you’re pissed off and feel like your brain’s on fire, they have your back with ready and waiting catharsis. Sometimes you just want to punch yourself in the face.

Turbid North on Facebook

Turbid North on Bandcamp

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Modern Stars, Space Trips for the Masses

A third full-length in as many years from Roman four-piece Modern Stars — vocalist/guitarist/synthesist Andrea Merolle (also sitar and mandolin), vocalist Barbara Margani, bassist/mixer Filippo Strang and drummer Andrea Sperduti — Space Trips for the Masses is maybe less directly space rock in its makeup than one might think. The band’s heavy psychedelia is hardly earthbound, but more ambience than fiery thrust or motorik, and Merolle‘s vocals have a distinctly Mark Lanegan-esque smokiness to which Margani adds bolstering backing presence on the deceptively urbane “No Fuss,” after the opening drift of “Starlight” — loosely post-rock, but too active to be that entirely either, and that’s a compliment — and the echoing “Monkey Blues” first draw the listener in. Margani provides the only voice on centerpiece “My Messiah Left Me Behind,” but that shift is just one example of Modern Stars‘ clear intent to offer something different on every song, be it the shimmer of “Everyday” or the keyboard sounds filling the open spaces early in the eight-minute “Drowning,” which later takes up a march punctuated by, drums and tambourine, devolving on a long synth/noise-topped fade into the six-minute liquid cohesion that is “Ninna Nanna,” a capstone summary of the fascinating sprawl Modern Stars have crafted. One could live here a while, in this ‘space.’

Modern Stars on Facebook

Little Cloud Records store

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Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships, Destination Ceres Station: Reefersleep EP

Those who’ve been following the progression of Nebraska’s Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships will find Destination Ceres Station: Reefersleep — their second offering in 2022 behind the sophomore full-length Consensus Trance (review here) — accordingly dense in tone and steady in roll as the three-piece of Jeremy Warner, Karlin Warner and Justin Kamal offer two more tracks that would seem to have been recorded in the full-length session. As “Destination Ceres Station: Reefersleep” open-spaces and chugs across an instrumental-save-for-samples 12:31 and the subsequent “Ice Hauler” lumbers noddily to its 10:52 with vocals incorporated, the extended length of each track gives the listener plenty to groove on, classically stonerized in the post-Sleep tradition, but becoming increasingly individual. These two songs, with the title-track hypnotizing so that the start of the first verse in “Ice Hauler” is something of a surprise, pair well, and Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships add a taste of slow-boogie to lead them out in the slow fade of the latter, highlighting the riff worship at the heart of their increasingly confident approach. One continues to look forward to what’s to come from them, feeling somewhat greedy for doing so given the substance they’ve already delivered.

Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships on Facebook

Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships on Bandcamp

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Borehead, 0002

The current of feedback or drone noise beneath the rolling motion of Borehead‘s “Phantasm (A Prequel)” — before the sample brings the change into the solo section; anybody know the name of that rabbit? — is indeed a precursor to the textured, open-spaced heavy progressive instrumentalism London trio have on offer with their aptly-titled second EP, 0002. Produced by Wayne Adams at the London-underground go-to Bear Bites Horse Studio, the three-song outing is led by riffs on that opener, patient in its execution and best consumed at high volume so that the intricacy of the bass in “Lost in Waters Deep,” the gentle ghost snare hits in the jazzy first-half break of “Mariana’s Lament” after the ticking clock and birdsong intro, and the start-stop declarative riff that lands so heavy before they quickly turn to the next solo, or, yes, those hidden melodies in “Phantasm (A Prequel)” aren’t lost. These aspects add identity to coincide with the richness of tone and the semi-psychedelic outreach of 0002‘s overarching allure, definitely in-genre, but in a way that seems contingent largely on the band’s interests not taking them elsewhere over time, or at least expanding in multiple directions on what’s happening here. Because there’s a pull in these songs, and I think it’s the band being active in their own development, though four years from their first EP and with nothing else to go on, it’s hard to know where they’ll head or how they’ll get there based on these three tracks. Somehow that makes it more exciting.

Borehead on Facebook

Borehead on Bandcamp

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Monolithe, Kosmodrom

With song titles and lyrical themes based around Soviet space exploration, Kosmodrom is the ninth full-length from Parisian death-doomers Monolithe. The band are 20 years removed from their debut album, have never had a real break, and offer up 67 minutes’ worth of gorgeously textured, infinitely patient and serenely immersive death, crossing into synth and sampling as they move toward and through the 26-minute finale “Kosmonavt,” something of a victory lap for the album itself, even if sympathy for anything Russian is at a low at this point in Europe, given the invasion of Ukraine. That’s not Monolithe‘s fault, however, and really at this point there’s maybe less to say about it than there would’ve been last year, but the reason I wanted to write about Kosmodrom, and about Monolithe particularly isn’t just that they’re good at what they do, but because they’ve been going so long, they’re still finding ways to keep themselves interested in their project, and their work remains at an as-high-if-not-higher level than it was when I first heard the 50-minute single-song Monolithe II in 2005. They’ve never been huge, never had the hype machine behind them, and they keep doing what they do anyway, because fuck it, it’s art and if you’re not doing it for yourself, what’s the point? In addition to the adventure each of the five songs on Kosmodrom represents, some moments soaring, some dug so low as to be subterranean, both lush, weighted and beautiful, their ethic and the path they’ve walked deserves nothing but respect, so here’s me giving it.

Monolithe on Facebook

Monolithe on Bandcamp

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