For more than a decade, New Zealand-based multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Craig Williamson has offered solo trips to the cosmos under the moniker Lamp of the Universe, early albums like The Cosmic Union (2001) and Echo in Light (2002) serving as the foundation for lysergic sitar explorations to come on a subsequent run of records that includes 2005’s Heru, 2006’s Earth, Spirit and Sky and that same year’s From the Mystic Rays of Astrological Light. Lamp of the Universe’s last ceremony was 2009’s Acid Mantra (review here), and in the interim, Williamson helped found and handled bass and vocal duties in Arc of Ascent, releasing two albums with the trio in the form of their 2010 debut, Circle of the Sun (review here) and last year’s The Higher Key (review here) and departing from Lamp of the Universe’s intimate feel toward heavy psych and grunge without retreading the ground Williamson already covered as a member of underrated heavy rockers Datura. Unsurprisingly, the time spent creating with Arc of Ascent seems to have fed into Williamson’s processes for the solo-project, and though Lamp of the Universe remains as expansive and intricately layered as ever on the newest release, Transcendence – Williamson handling acoustic and electric guitar, bass, drums, sitar, Rhoads, synth, djembe, mellotron, tanpura, recorder in addition to the vocals, recording, mixing and putting the 46-minute full-length out through his own Astral Projection imprint – there’s a sense of movement to the songs that’s continued both from Acid Mantra and from the work of the full-band. For example, with six tracks broken even between, Transcendence has a distinct vinyl feel, each of its two sides ending with a longer cut that serves to push into new territory for the project or at very least further develop the ideas that the two prior tracks present, whether it’s “Transcendence” at the end of the first half taking the headphone-ready textures of “Pantheist” and “Creation of Light” to gorgeous interplay of mellotron and sitar or the closing “Beyond the Material World” mounting a one-man space rock freakout that’s the only cut on Transcendence to top 10 minutes long. Throughout, Williamson’s vocal approach, soft and spiritually contemplative, serves as a uniting factor, and as ever for Lamp of the Universe, the flow is unmistakable and consuming.

Drum lines are simple, but serve immediately on “Pantheist” to position Transcendence somewhere between acid folk and heavy psych, Williamson’s basslines tapping into some of the Om influence that showed up as well in the patterning of Arc of Ascent’s The Higher Key, while themes of love and freedom and exploration remain consistent with Lamp of the Universe’s earliest works. The drumming isn’t really new either – one can hear it as far back as “Freedom in Your Mind” from The Cosmic Union – but it’s the way the drums are used in the progressions and grooves that gives Transcendence a more rocking vibe, “Pantheist” playing out in a way that probably would’ve worked just as well structurally for Arc of Ascent, though of course the arrangement would be different, sans mellotron, backwards guitars and the overall peaceful feel that pervades. “Creation of Light” boasts a comparatively still atmosphere, interweaving a central acoustic guitar line and sitar atop lush tanpura drones and gradually introducing recorder flourish and djembe percussion without ever taking on the kind of rock-minded push of the opener. In its second half, Williamson layers vocal ambience to coincide with the instrumental payoff and the effect is as engaging sonically as it is a triumph of arrangement, but the highlight of side A is still to come with “Transcendence,” which marries the two viewpoints, bringing drums, tanpura, sitar, mellotron and a traditional verse structure together to a singular development that’s warmly toned, rich in color and neither pretentious nor obtuse. After three minutes into the total 8:28, Williamson opens into a sort of jam with himself, holding down the central line on bass and drums while adding a deceptively bluesy electric guitar solo amid the tanpura and sitar before resuming the verse and saving a fuzzier lead for later in the track, gradually diminishing on a long fadeout to end the first half of the album. Listening, I can’t help but wonder how long that jam actually went on, though the CD version of Transcendence allows only a few seconds to process the fullness of sound Williamson is able to accomplish before the acoustics and prevalent mellotron of “The Sign of Love” opens side B as the first of two shorter pieces.

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The level to which New Zealander four-piece Shallow Grave carry listeners with them along their undulating downer path isn’t necessarily commensurate to the volume at which their self-titled debut is played, but more never hurt. On the six-track/55-minute outing, released by Astral Projection (Lamp of the Universe, Arc of Ascent), the Auckland outfit oppress almost universally, beginning with a cold atmospheric introduction to “Devil’s Harvest” and never quite losing that sensibility at any time throughout their assault. They are, impressively so for a first record, markedly individual within their sphere, with a sound that takes elements of sludge, post-metal (some “tribal” drumming here, some Neurosis guitar wail there), but despite coming across with considerable tonal largesse on the album itself still manage to maintain a raw sensibility as well – crust almost, but slower and more complex, with a subtle swirl that offsets the barking vocals. Comprised of Tim Leth, James Barker, Brent Bidlake and Mike Rothwell, they’re an outfit who keep their origins obscure but who’ve been playing out since at least 2010, and have obviously used that time well in developing this material, which is drawn together by ambient drones and samples that pull the listener along from one track into the next, as “Devil’s Harvest” moves into “Chemical Fog” once it has run its fervently abrasive course with low hum and high-pitched whistle, amp noise maybe run through an echo chamber. Shallow Grave are hardly the first band to use this method to unite their pieces into a single whole, but it works for them throughout here, and on the one occasion when they don’t – the later “From Boundless Heights,” which feedbacks its way into “To Unfathomable Depths” – the effect is even more complementary. At their heart, though, they pummel. “Chemical Fog,” which moves at a faster clip than the opener, gives no ground in terms of its tonal heft, and it’s a ferocious headphone listen, all the more consuming without distraction for the intricacies that show themselves in the two guitars at work and the layers of screams that show up as the song moves past its halfway point. The ensuing samples are well mixed and well met by the band’s crashes, but it’s the final mostly-instrumental (some ambient screams) push that most satisfies, the track arriving at a massive peak before being consumed to a rising wall of painful low-end static noise.

From there, they cut right into “Nameless Chants,” which rounds out the first half of the album. Shallow Grave is broken into de facto sides – three tracks on one, three tracks on another, broken up in the listing on the back cover of the CD – though at 55 minutes, it’s longer than an actual single LP would hold and “Nameless Chants” feeds as much into “From Boundless Heights” as anything else does to what follows. Still, the sense of structure remains resonant throughout, and it’s a handy tool for understanding part of Shallow Grave’s approach and the influences they’re working from, putting them in line with the tropes of more traditional doom without necessarily forging a stylistic alliance that might not comport with the droning, hypnotic repetitions of “Nameless Chants,” which works its way through several movements instrumentally, one led by the guitar, one led by the drums, gnashing and gnarling for a full five minutes before introducing a verse on vocals. This switch in compositional method comes at just the right time to throw off listeners, who might have a sense of knowing what to expect after “Devil’s Harvest” and “Chemical Fog,” which had their differences in tempo but essentially covered the same ground structurally. “Nameless Chants” is a harder read where it’s most needed, and the final slowdown serves as a crashing, crushing apex for the self-titled’s initial three cuts. With the linear listening experience of the CD, there’s no dip in momentum between that apex and the beginning of “From Boundless Heights,” the shortest track on Shallow Grave at just over five minutes – everything else tops eight, the opener 10 and the closer 15 – that continues the rush preceding and develops over its course into a furious churn topped by chaotic leads and screams that still manage to return to the song’s own march. Together, “From Boundless Heights” and “To Unfathomable Depths” account for the most distinctly post-metal section of the record, with the plod of the former leading straight into the gradually-arriving, lurching howl of the latter. Even here though – and for this I’ll give at least partial credit to the screamed vocals – Shallow Grave retain an identity of their own, keeping the atmosphere consistent with the rest of the album and the crushing sonics moving forward through loud/quiet tradeoffs.

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Why yes, that is Lamp of the Universe‘s Acid Mantra in full set to images from the Hubble telescope in various stages of manipulation. Thanks for asking. Truth be told, I spent so much of today with my teeth clenched that now my jaw hurts, and in looking for something to round out the week, nothing seemed heavy enough, angry enough, miserable or misanthropic enough to properly convey the sort of in-all-directions frustration in which I’ve been embroiled for the better part of the last three days. So I decided to go the other direction with it. Like, complete opposite.

And in finding the most blissed out psych I could readily think of, 2009’s Acid Mantra (review here) came to mind almost immediately. New Zealand’s Lamp of the Universe will reportedly have a new full-length out next month according to Craig Williamson, the lone figure behind the project (also bassist/vocalist for Arc of Ascent), and from where I sit that’s good news. Acid Mantra being more active than much of the Lamp material that came before it, I was kind of worried it was put to bed for good when Arc of Ascent got going. That band also rules and I would recommend their two albums to anyone who hasn’t heard them, it’s just a different appeal.

I’d have included Lamp of the Universe in that list that went up on Tuesday, but details on the forthcoming stuff are scarce and I don’t know the exact release date. Good news anyway though, and much needed. I guess I’ve been kind of burnt out. Doing posts today for Desertfest and Roadburn right in a row only underscored to me just how ready I am to punch out for a while, and while I last year managed to stay so busy for most of the trip that I actually felt like coming back home was the vacation — and I expect much the same for this year — it’s time. I wish it was this week. Gotta go, gotta go.

Russian Circles are at Radio City Music Hall tomorrow night with two bands I don’t care to see, and if I can get a photo pass, I’m going to go. Been too long since I got out and I’m starting to go stir crazy. Holly Hunt are also playing, at The Acheron, and it’s been a while since I did two shows in a night, but I might just be out of my head enough to give it a shot, and I figure Russian Circles will be over early enough to make it over to Brooklyn in good time. Some math to be done there, and it remains to be seen if I can get into that Radio City gig, but if I can, I’ll write about it Monday.

Also over the weekend I want to see if I can tackle the Devil to Pay album, which I wanted fucking desperately to review today. Got slapped with work and bullshit piled on top of bullshit related to various other site-irrelevant concerns, so by the time I would’ve been able to start — like 3PM or so — I was already so pissed at the time gone by that I couldn’t even really get it rolling. Escapist festival updates and shows happening on the other side of the country instead. There’s a hidden message in there somewhere. Whatever.

Thanks to everyone who checked in this week. As always, I hope you have a great and safe weekend however you wind up spending it, and if you’ve found yourself in the bummer kind of funk as apparently my quick-to-bitching ass has, then I hope the Lamp of the Universe record above does you some good as well. By all accounts, that’s what it’s there for. If you’re looking to kill time, hit up the forum and The Obelisk Radio, both of which kick ass more than I could’ve anticipated at the time.

The second album from New Zealand heavy rock trio Arc of Ascent, dubbed The Higher Key, could easily be considered the third in a progression. Okay, maybe not easily, since it’s their sophomore outing and there’s no immediate third record to consider, but The Higher Key fits into a line of development that also includes the last album from bassist/vocalist Craig Williamson’s prior outfit, the one-man operation Lamp of the Universe. The final (to date) Lamp of the Universe record, 2009’s Acid Mantra (review here), was beginning to push away from some of that band’s most indulgent psychedelia. It had drums, for one, and the atmosphere of the album overall was more active than the prior few Lamp installments, perhaps harkening back to Williamson’s days playing with underappreciated psych heavies Datura, but not quite there yet. Going from Acid Mantra to Arc of Ascent’s 2010 Circle of the Sun debut (review here) in the space of one year was a big jump for Williamson – who was the only member of one band and remains the lone songwriter in the other – but just as Acid Mantra had some more rock-based ideas present in its songs, so too did Circle of the Sun also find Williamson incorporating sitar and Indian-derived scales into the more straightforward, heavy rocking material. It was a naturalizing and easing effect for anyone who’d followed Williamson’s progression with Lamp of the Universe and welcome flourish to those who perhaps hadn’t encountered him before Arc of Ascent. While The Higher Key still bleeds heavy psychedelia from its very core – one finds Williamson’s vocals on the two side-ending tracks “Search for Liberation” and “Through the Rays of Infinity” to be particularly reminiscent of past ethereal chanting, however different the surrounding context might be – it’s still one more step further along the shifting line of progression that began with Acid Mantra (actually, it probably began well before that, but it began to palpably manifest itself there, anyway). There isn’t a sitar anywhere on it.

And I’ve looked!

Moreover, the whole of The Higher Key, despite being just three minutes shorter than its predecessor at 43, feels more straightforward and stripped down in terms of arrangement. Williamson is more confident vocally than he’s ever sounded, and so is less presented less drenched in echo and more forward in the mix, and there’s a heady crunch in the guitars of Sandy Schaare – come in as replacement for Matt Cole-Baker while drummer John Strange returns to round out the trio. All this, again, is put into a heavy psychedelic context. I’ve no desire to give the impression that Williamson, who also helms the release on Astral Projection and produced these cuts (they were recorded across a few different studios with a few different engineers, but Kenny MacDonald also mixed and mastered) as well as singing on them, playing bass and adding percussion, keys, tanpura and singing bowl, is suddenly writing songs about motorcycle rallies or anything like that, unless he’s cloaking those ideas in lines like, “Solstice of ageless rising, regains delight,” from opener “Celestial Altar.” A fun idea, but not likely. The lyrics seem to be where Williamson has most continued his cosmic-spiritualistic exploration on The Higher Key, and the cadence with which he delivers his lines backs up that idea. He pushes his vocal range some backing himself on side B’s “Redemption” and “Elemental Kingdom,” which is probably the heaviest cut here, tonally speaking, and on in the verse of “Search for Liberation,” he manages to work in a layer on top where he’s almost singing along with himself – I wouldn’t be surprised if the parts were recorded using exactly that method – all the while maintaining a consistency in his rhythmic delivery that feels naturally born out of what he was doing on Circle of the Sun. Fans and followers of Al Cisneros’ work in Om will find Williamson familiar, if less purposefully monotone.

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Circle of the Sun, the first full-length from New Zealand heavy psych trio Arc of Ascent, was one of the most promising debuts of 2010 (review here). But of course, it wasn’t really a debut album for Arc of Ascent bassist/vocalist Craig Williamson, whose tenure in the ultra-psychedelic Lamp of the Universe and the crunchingly-riffed Datura ensured that the new band would have at very least a fascinating blend of influences. In the end, it not only satisfied on that level, but surprised with a clarity of production and depth of songcraft that guaranteed repeat listens would be no less engaging.

The enduring appeal of Circle of the Sun was what had me looking up Arc of Ascent‘s page on Thee Facebooks a couple weeks ago and checking back over this weekend, only to find out not only did the band have a new record ready to go — titled The Higher Key, and set for release on CD through Williamson‘s own Astral Projection imprint — but that they were about to offer a sneak peak of the album on their Bandcamp site. As fast as my chubby fingers could type, I shot off an email to Williamson to see if he’d be interested in having a track streamed here, and fortunately, he accepted.

It’s the opening cut on The Higher Key, and that’s important because “The Celestial Altar” seems to show that although Arc of Ascent has replaced guitarist Matt Cole-Baker with Sandy Schaare — the three-piece is rounded out by returning drummer John Strange — the stylistic basis remains the same and has evolved to more clearly incorporate classic desert rock amid the psych ranging. If you’re paying attention, you’ll even catch a pretty throaty scream (I won’t tell you when; you’ll have to listen) that seems to show Arc of Ascent‘s continued sonic expansion.

Thanks to Williamson for letting me feature “The Celestial Altar” on the player below. Please enjoy:

[mp3player width=460 height=120 config=fmp_jw_widget_config.xml playlist=arc-of-ascent.xml]

Arc of Ascent‘s The Higher Key was recorded October-December, 2011, and features artwork by Greg Hodgson. Vinyl release is expected tentatively by April through Germany’s Clostridium Records in 180g black, color and die-hard editions. More info and updates on Arc of Ascent are available here.

It was clear from the last Lamp of the Universe record, Acid Mantra, that Kiwi psychedelicist Craig Williamson was looking to do something a little more structured. Williamson, who cut his riffing teeth playing in underrated head rockers Datura, emerges from the cosmic ether now as bassist/vocalist/etc. in the trio Arc of Ascent, which continues some of Lamp of the Universe’s psychedelic exploration, but puts said psychedelia — which comes on thanks to sitar, tanpura, synths, bells, chanting, and so forth; all of which are credited to Williamson — in a more outwardly heavy context. Make no mistake, we’re still reaching out to the farthest uncharted regions of spiritual innerspace, but now we’re doing it with thick guitar riffs! Never know what you’ve been missing until you find it.

These riffs come courtesy of Matt Cole-Baker, and while it’s clear Arc of Ascent’s full-length debut, Circle of the Sun (Astral Projection) still holds its protagonist in Williamson, each member of the trio proves essential to the band’s sound, whether it’s Cole-Baker starting off the space rock groove of “The Inner Sign” or drummer John Strange falling right into place with that groove and blissing out on a tom-heavy repetition until the song kicks in. For sheer heft, Cole-Baker’s guitar stays weighty even in its lead tone, offering notes that ring out behind themselves in comet trails. Circle of the Sun works out to about 46 minutes, but with the space-themed artwork, space-themed songs and wide ranging creative breadth, it feels big and open.

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Likely I’d have bought it anyway, but what really sold me on Acid Mantra, the latest self-release from prolific deep-space psychedelic traveler Craig Williamson under the one-man-band banner of Lamp of the Universe, was when I read that it had more in common with older albums like The Cosmic Union and Echo in Light than more recent work Earth, Spirit and Sky and From the Mystic Rays of Astrological Light. Not that I didn’t enjoy those records for what they were — largely instrumental slabs of tripped-out psych from the wilds of New Zealand — but since my favorite songs from Williamson (also the bassist for the underrated Datura) are “Born in the Rays of the Third Eye” and “Lotus of a Thousand Pedals,” the thought of having more material akin to that was too much to resist purchasing.

The suggestion holds true: Acid Mantra does share much in common with Lamp of the Universe‘s early output, but it’s no more of a throwback than any of Williamson‘s output as ever been. The banjo-laden “Searching for a Sign,” for example, sounds like something you might hear on a Six Organs of Admittance record, and closer “Universe Within” even has drums! Drums and fuzzy electric guitars! Hell, I couldn’t believe it.

But it’s not necessarily that Williamson is aping himself, rather he’s just writing more active songs; songs that are more structured than have been those on his more recent collections. Acid Mantra is still psychedelic folk at its heart, with plenty of the sitars, tanpura and drones those who’ve followed Lamp of the Universe have come to expect, but they appear here tempered by more earthly elements as well. If you’re going to travel through the cosmos, you have to lift off from somewhere, right?

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