The level to which Fu Manchu had ‘figured it out’ by 1995 remains striking in hindsight. Daredevil (also discussed here) came out on Bong Load Records — the band did a 2015 re-release through their label At the Dojo; mostly that’s what’s featured above, but it’s a jumble — and it was recorded with label heads/studio founders Rob Schnapf and Tom Rothrock. The latter mixed, and just a year and a bassist after releasing their Brant Bjork-produced debut, 1994’s No One Rides for Free (discussed here), they sound both radio- and road-ready, with many of the defining aspects of their sound nailed down, set to roll. Listening to it 31 years later, it is not some lost historical document rife with lore and secrets. It sounds like Fu Manchu. They’re maybe less sure of where they’re heading than maturity would make them in a few more years, but for sure they’re underway and down for the going.

Perhaps an element of what makes Daredevil feel so Fu-ndational (you’re welcome) is the result of increased confidence in the execution. You don’t have ot go far to hear it, either. Opener “Trapeze Freak” has its roots in the band’s 1990 7″ Kept Between Trees (discussed here), but here, it feels like a quintessential example of who Fu Manchu were at this stage, and it’s by no means the only one on the record, with “Tilt” right behind it delivering the title line, the ’90s-stonerized watery vocals and slower fuzz nod of album-centerpiece “Sleestak” and the boogie-born twists of “Space Farm,” the shred throughout “Gathering Speed,” and so on. The subject matter had lightened up somewhat since their days as Virulence, and no doubt a lineup that by then had already completely turned over around founding guitarist Scott Hill was part of that.

Notably, Daredevil is the first appearance on a Fu Manchu LP of bassist Brad Davis, who in taking the place of Mark Abshire, staked a claim on low end that remains firm today. He slots into these songs fluidly, is able to keep his bounce under the swing and scorch of “Coyote Duster,” and brings density to the fuzz of Hill and Eddie Glass‘ guitars on “Lug” enough to give it a fervent sense of shove as drummer Ruben Romano holds steady beneath. Songs like “Travel Agent” feel more straightforward than they are, and that nothing-too-fancy sensibility has also permeated their work since as a lack of pretense in terms of presentation; t-shirts and shorts and surfer vibes and shred met with a clear idea of what a heavy rock song should and can do. The longest cut here is “Space Farm,” which references the prior album in its lyrics, and runs five and a half minutes. That gives them room to jam, a little like “Snakebellies” from the year before, but they remain directed all the while, with vocals over the (partial) mellowing in the second half of the track before they bring back the lead riff one more time and finish quieter. The songs have a defined structure, and like the best of verse/chorus anything, they seem to challenge the listener by asking what else you could ever need.

Fair question. I’m not about to cheapen the growth in songwriting or the shifts in production and style that have taken place throughout Fu Manchu‘s career, but they sound like a band on the precipice, and they came of age at the right time. Clutch‘s self-titled released in 1995. Monster Magnet teased commercial success with Dopes to Infinity. The Melvins, ahead of just about everybody, were soon to wrap up their major label era. Kyuss had their last album out. If you want to look for a generational nexus year for heavy rock and roll in the US, that might be it, and though Fu Manchu were about to embark on a succession of stone-cold genre classics — records that have continued to inspire others to start riffing in the first place, let alone the statement they made about Fu Manchu in terms of identity and craft — their first two albums already found them keeping company among the foremost purveyors while retaining a persona distinct even from the desert shove of Kyuss. Fu Manchu were doing something else. In Daredevil, their approach is codified.

And that might be the principal achievement of this material outside the broader narrative. The atmosphere is a bit brighter than No One Rides for Free, and as much as the cover photo here is grainy, it’s also clear what you’re looking at, where the debut was a bit first-glance obscured by the fish-eye lens utilized. As much as you’re hearing it, you’re also seeing Fu Manchu develop their aesthetic, a style that lives actively, channeling the disaffection of grunge not into songs about being checked out, but into conveying physical movement enough that underground heavy rock became a crucial part of skate culture; the sound of something that hadn’t existed before. Fu Manchu‘s style is inseparable in this way from the Southern California region that birthed it, and indeed, I can’t listen to “Tilt,” “Lug,” “Egor” or the sleek-grooving finisher “Push Button Magic” without thinking it sounds like it comes from a place with nice weather. It’s like they made the sunshine part of the songs.

Fu Manchu were about to make the jump to Mammoth Records, and that would bring with it forward steps like their first European touring, soon more lineup changes, and a booming fanbase. I tend to think of Daredevil as not only a step on the way to where they were going, but an end to the beginning of the band. Bringing Davis in seemed to gel them just right, and these songs still sound poised for a breakthrough all these years later. In classic second-album fashion, they learned from the work they did the year before to bang out a collection that’s still raw but forward in thought and motion just the same and utterly their own in ways that continue to define their work more than three decades later. It was starting to become clear just how special Fu Manchu were going to be.

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

—

Next week, I’m flying to Las Vegas for Planet Desert Rock Weekend VI. I’m very much looking forward to it. Things — shit with the school, horrors, etc. — have been weighing on me a lot, have been on my mind a lot, and it’s sort of knocked me out of my head in terms of writing. What’s the point of putting together another album review when I should be buying a gun for when masked paramilitaries come barging through my door? Indeed, what’s the point of anything? Stoner rock feels pretty lightweight in comparison, however hefty the tone of a given release might be.

But while I swim in that, hopefully not for the rest of my life, I hope to recover some verve by spending a few days standing in front of a stage with volume blasting out. Good shows, good bands, friends and times. I knew I wanted to go back since I landed in Jersey after PDRW a year ago. If this trip is half as much fun, it’ll be a win.

Kind are playing that fest. Monday I’m premiering a new song from them. And later in the week I have reviews and streams from DUNDDW, Indica Blues and Hot Ram, so as ‘light’ as this week was, I’m not finished writing reviews. Just reeling and angry and perennially disappointed at my countrymen and government representatives. Nothing actually new for having come of age as George Bush launched the War on Terror, but the threats are real now and the culture is poison.

A brief Zelda update: The Pecan’s been roped into Animal Crossing on the Switch 2, so I’ve been playing the modded Tears of the Kingdom game with the randomizer on it, and also a bit of a lazy play of The Wind Waker on my laptop. It doesn’t run well, but it runs. The Switch lags too. It’s part of the thing. TOTK is still the best game I’ve ever played. I haven’t played every game, and I haven’t played a lot, but yeah. Using those controls feels like the way it should be.

We’re supposed to get a big snowstorm this weekend into next week. Sunday I think it starts. We’ve had more snow already than any past winter since we moved back down from Massachusetts to New Jersey (that’s 2019), and apparently there’s more to come. Fine. Cancel school. Fine. I don’t really care. I might even be able to bring myself to take The Pecan sledding if I can get over the vision of last winter when she split her forehead open and I could look in and see her skull. Yeah, maybe.

Whatever you’re up to, have a great and safe weekend. Hydrate, stay alert, don’t let the fuckers win. They’re out there. Your joy hurts them, so try to have as much of that as possible and maybe everything will get a little easier for everyone.

FRM.

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By 1994, although the music industry at large was still embroiled in grunge’s post-breakout records, with follow-ups from Soundgarden, Nirvana, Pearl Jam, and others, it was clear that the magic of 1991-’92 was on the wane, and if the collective machine had its collective head in anything other than a collective pile of cocaine, somebody might’ve been looking for the next thing. Actually that’s not fair, because I’ve known plenty of folks who tried to break heavy rock commercially, both from within the ‘bigs’ and without, and only about half of them were on cocaine.

But the beginning of the decline of what was then a stable radio rock environment hardly sounds like a concern to Fu Manchu on No One Rides for Free (vinyl reissue here). The San Clemente, California, four-piece had spent a few years getting together their lineup and sound, and as the four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Scott Hill, guitarist Eddie Glass, bassist Mark Abshire and drummer Ruben Romano, they made their full-length debut through Bong Load Records. The band had already existed in some form or other for about nine years, beginning as Virulence (discussed here) circa 1985 and hammering themselves into Fu Manchu therefrom in terms of personnel as well as the songs.

And that work can be heard throughout No One Rides for Free, from the immediacy of “Time to Fly” starting in its verse — no intro on your debut album; the creation of a punker urgency that’s underlied Fu Manchu‘s cool-dude groove all the while, because they were punks playing a new kind of punk, daring to grow up a bit — to the cowbell there and in “Mega-Bumpers,” the beach atmosphere and rolling waves behind the drippy strum and noodling of “Summer Girls (Free and Easy),” conveying a bit of Southern Californian sunshine in the atmosphere for a suitable interlude, and the thickened nod of “Shine it On,” which becomes a teachable moment in terms of heft, the album is only 27 minutes long, but it basically lays out a genre template. Not for stoner rock, which by then would’ve barely existed by name — Kyuss released Welcome to Sky Valley (discussed here) in ’94 (their then-drummer Brant Bjork co-produced here, would take his place in the band soon enough), and Monster Magnet and Clutch were both making killer records on the cusp of gaining wider audience attention, as others like Orange Goblin and Electric Wizard began to take shape — but for a different vision of skater/slackerism, ultra-West Coast in the overarching laid back vibe as they gave their first-and-not-last hints of affiliation with van culture in the title and cover photo (credited to Von Lidd) and nonetheless hit it hard.

The longest song is “Snakebellies,” which closes the eight-tracker a bit under five minutes and brings together the fluidity of prior riffing. The semi-spoken vocal delivery of Hill that might’ve felt jarring at the start of “Time to Fly” is by the end of the album a guiding factor through it, and Hill rests well in the fuller mix of the finale while he and Glass — whose shred is distinctive and in a few years would go on to found Nebula with Romano (we’ll get there) — tear it up while managing to blend funk and ’70s boogie rock with the force and immediacy of the punk and late ’80s noise rock from whence Fu Manchu had emerged. On “Snakebellies,” the solo becomes a jam, acoustics and percussion are layered in, and though it seems to go far out, it never actually touches the five-minute mark. This kind of efficiency, which actually begins to show itself in “Time to Fly” and is what makes “Summer Girls (Free and Easy)” sound like the ocean breeze it’s conveying, is rare and essential to understanding who the band would become musically.

Also rare, the chemistry. No One Rides for Free, though celebrated, isn’t often held up among peak Fu Manchu albums. It’s a personal favorite, but I’ll acknowledge too that I tend to reach for later records more. What it shows, however, is that even 32 years ago, this band were on their way to knowing who they were, and that the time they spent leading to their first album was not wasted. In addition to the outright filthy distortion of “Show and Shine,” the lead flourish as the riffs twist around to cycle through again, the shove rampant throughout, the on-point coherence of Fu Manchu even at this still-formative stage is striking. On some level, they’d found the fuzz that would become an essential aspect of their work, and with this lineup that would barely last two more years, executed a first phase that in many ways laid out elements of their sound they’ve continued to refine and revel in all the while.

It’s easy now to look back on it and appreciate “Superbird” or “Ojo Rojo” as precursors to what would come from the band over the next few years/LPs, but put yourself in the position of someone who’d spent the last couple years having grunge shoved down your throat by corporate record labels — anybody remember when selling out was a thing?; I can’t help but think the world might be a better place if people were still held to a standard of their own proffered ideals — and here come Fu Manchu strutting in telling you it’s ‘Time to Fly” with an irresistible nod and start-stop groove that, if you’d never done a stoner softshoe before, just might be enough to get you moving. Something different. Something new. Something else.

A different look from a different underground. An active sound, as if you could put all your surfing and skating into a roll and have it come back as “Mega-Bumpers.” If stoner rock had never learned from another band (and it did), Fu Manchu would’ve been a viable blueprint, but as broad as their influence has been, they’ve remained unto themselves. Hill, Glass, Abshire and Romano were a powerhouse lineup — they wouldn’t be the band’s last — and No One Rides for Free resonates still as a declaration of self on the part of the four-piece. It’s almost too naive to be as arrogant as it should be for as good as it is. What they set in motion here is still going.

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

—

Another week, huh? Terrors persist unabated. I hope I live long enough to see these people hang or die in prison.

At the end of next week, The Patient Mrs. begins her new semester, which is always a bummer. I don’t know her schedule yet. I’ve been trying to write as much as I can these last couple weeks, while also trying to hang out — we’re going to Costco in a bit; this is togetherness in your 40s — and it’s always a difficult balance. I also haven’t been feeling super-inspired on reviews and a lot’s been filed for the next QR, which I guess will probably be before the end of February. I’m hopeful that the trip to Las Vegas in a couple weeks for Planet Desert Rock Weekend VI will put me back into it a little bit. We shall see.

Let me actually look at my notes to see what’s coming up next week other then the four Hungarian classes I’ll be doing. News catchup on Monday and likely not much more than that Monday and Tuesday since The Pecan is off from school for MLK Day. I’d like to do something fun with that day, but it occurs to me I’m not fun and don’t actually like doing things. That makes it more difficult sometimes, plus she has OT in the afternoon (I think), so that’s another barrier. Because surely if one thing is slated for later one cannot occupy the hours beforehand with anything other than mounting anxiety about whether or not this is the time she rolls over a kid in the little cart they let her ride around the OT place in.

But I’ll do what I can. It’s not that nothing’s hitting me, necessarily, so much as it’s all out in March and people get mad when you review records like two months before they come out.

Anybody dying for a Zelda update? I know. Too bad. I woke up yesterday at like 5:30, used the morning to bang out most of what’s been posted today, and then took the rest of the day and fucked all the way off, playing a new game in Tears of the Kingdom with Waikuteru’s Randomizer mod on it that, because of some other mod I’ve loaded on there I’m not even sure which one, has no monsters. None. There’s no fighting, no stalkoblins rising out of the ground, nothing in the Depths. I’ve looked just about everywhere. Eventually I’ll want to go back into the files and sort that out so that combat can happen, but for now it’s kind of cool to just get resources, activate towers, shrines, lightroots, and let the Randomizer bounce me from place to place for that. I’ve got an item duplication mod (I think that’s what got rid of the monsters; that’s my theory) that also lets you get more than 999 of most items, and it’s fun to just stand there with the turbo button on and then know that I won’t need to get more big hearty truffles probably for the duration of however long this save file lasts. The last one went for a while.

I also did the Forsaken Fortess in The Wind Waker last night, again on a modded game that has quality-of-life improvements like a faster sail and whatever. I did the part on the pirate ship where you have to jump the platforms; I’ve gotten better since I first started playing the game. Which I never wanted to play, mind you. 20-odd years ago, I was like, “That looks dumb as hell,” and went back to Final Fantasy on PlayStation. Nobody told me it didn’t have to be one or the other, and that’s not something I’ve ever really ever been able to figure out on my own.

I beat A Link Between Worlds though, and thoroughly enjoyed it. Added to the list, that’s The Wind Waker (which I’ve played through twice already), Twilight Princess, Link’s Awakening (remake), Tears of the Kingdom (a bunch), Echoes of Wisdom, The Minish Cap, A Link to the Past, A Link Between Worlds, and Ocarina of Time 3D that I’ve played through since starting this delve. I haven’t gone back to Breath of the Wild, in part because I think I’m spoiled by Tears of the Kingdom‘s easier-to-use menus and more gamebreaking abilities — what even am I without a rocket attached to my shield? — but Majora’s Mask 3D aside, it’s been a roundly positive experience. Good games, some more leaning into being a pain in the ass than others. Tears of the Kingdom might be my favorite of the bunch, though.

Alright, that’s enough out of me. I hope you’re safe and not surrounded by fascist assholes. I look forward to a day when these people are ostracized from everyday society and made to feel the shame they should be feeling now. Until then, stay safe, stay alert, stay hydrated. Back here on Monday for more shenanigans. Have a great weekend.

FRM.

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The self-titled release above is from 2015, self-issued on Fu Manchu‘s At the Dojo imprint, and as you know if you pushed play, readily available to stream, download and own in a four-song 10″ edition on vinyl. The root of this five-track digital version, however, is in a three-song 1990 seven-incher called Kept Between Trees on Slap a Ham Records, which along with a couple other early singles — ’92’s Pick-Up Summer and Senioritis, ’93’s Don’t Bother Knockin’ (If This Vans Rockin’); this is all on Discogs, so don’t mistake it for arcane knowledge — mark the years of transition of the San Clemente, California, band from the teenaged hardcore punk of Virulence‘s reissued-in-2010-as-a-compilation If This Isn’t a Dream (discussed here, review here) to where Fu Manchu would be by the time they released their debut album, No One Rides for Free (reissue review here), in 1994.

Engineered by Billy Anderson (Acid King, Neurosis, hundreds of others) and produced by the band with Jonathan Burnside (Melvins, Clutch, hundreds of others), Kept Between Trees originally included its title-track, also renamed to “Trapeze Freak,” as well as “Bouillabaisse” and “Jr. High School Ring (7 Karat)” on the B-side. The lineup for the nascent Fu Manchu was guitarist Scott Hill, drummer Ruben Romano, bassist Greg McCaughey, and vocalist Glenn Chivens. Hill, McCaughey and Romano were in Virulence, and by the time they got to No One Rides for Free, they’d apparently be tired enough of lead singers for Hill to take over that duty. Fu Manchu — the five-track EP streaming above based on Kept Between Trees — helps fill in some of the evolutionary missing links between what Virulence was and what Fu Manchu would become.

Obviously no accounting for the growth of a band is ever going to be complete, whether it’s a documentary film or a listen-back-for-context piece like this, because of things like life experience, both individual and collective among the members of the band, the influences at the time and the growth into one’s own that invariably happens among committed artists over however many years (ideally all of them), and the inherent incompleteness of any human narrative to convey what actually happened and when, but there’s value in hearing the proto-lurch in the guitar line of the two-minute “Bouillabaisse” and realizing that this was Fu Manchu in the process of learning what manipulating tempo could do to make a song sound heavy, having taken inspiration from what was around them, be it slow-Slayer thrash divergence the tonal presence that grunge brought to punk and noise, and directed it toward what were the the ends of their own craft at that point. This too would change over time, as the members of Fu Manchu changed, in terms of lineup, yes, and also as people and a group. As they grew up, in other words.

Last week, after I posted the discussion of Virulence, Scott Hill left a comment highlighting some of their earliest points of inspiration:

…Started as a hardcore punk band, then saw BL’AST! Live in 1985 then got the Melvins Gluey LP then stared listening to a lot of the Swans and late period Black Flag and a band called Gore from overseas……..then around 1988 heard and saw TAD / Soundgarden / Nirvana / Laughing Hyenas / Big Chief / Mudhoney / Dinosaur JR / Sonic Youth / Monster Magnet / early White Zombie and changed to Fu Manchu……

Swans, Black Flag and the Netherlands’ Gore into TAD, Big Chief, Mudhoney, Sonic Youth and Monster Magnet, etc. — one would be lucky to be alive in 1988-1990 and to have heard those bands, though one would hear some of them soon enough on the radio as commercial media embraced grunge and alternative rock in its wake. But thinking about Kept Between Trees, the noisier aspects of Fu Manchu‘s sound, the organic bringing together of weighted distortion, riff-led groove and a disaffection that on “Kept Between Trees” itself (which got retitled at some point, morphing into “Trapeze Freak”), with its punch of low end and ready howl on the turnarounds, feels specifically born of Black Flag, was already in the processs of coming into itself.

In its most expanded form — that is, as 2015’s retrospective Fu Manchu rather than 1990’s Kept Between Trees, with “Blowtorch” and “Flashin'” added that were recorded around the same time and went unreleased — this offering still only runs five songs and 16 minutes. It’s not the most in-depth studio catalogue of Fu Manchu‘s 36-years-ago ouevre. But I feel like especially considering the punk foundations from which they emerged, it makes sense that they would have turned to recording and releasing singles for a few years as they sorted the lineup, probably focused on live shows, and eventually made their way to making a full-length.

And to be sure, some of who Fu Manchu would be is audible in the material of this era, limited though the amount of it ultimately is. The start-stop riff in “Jr. High School Ring (7 Karat)” is prescient of the kinds of grooves on which the band would make their name throughout the mid- and late-1990s, and already in the upped density of “Blowtorch” and “Flashin’,” one can hear the exploration taking place of just how heavy Fu Manchu could and wanted to get. Organic creative progression. Trying new ideas. Building from one thing into the next. In many ways, Fu Manchu have continued this process all along, and it’s a defining feature of their work.

But to go back to before they ‘figured it out’ and to hear the iterative steps as they happened is a reminder that most bands, most art, don’t emerge ready-made. Some certainly appear to, and maybe if you heard Fu Manchu doing “Regal Begal” on your local FM station in 1996, you might think it was all brand new, but the truth is that there’d been over a decade of work leading them to that point. In that way too, Kept Between Trees is a critical document of the beginnings of this band. It tells you what they were doing, where they were going, and portrays the evolution in progress. Especially noteworthy, while one can hear likenesses to the names Hill listed in that comment above, already Fu Manchu were beginning to differentiate themselves. The niche they’d end up finding is still their own.

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

—

I’m writing this later in the day than I generally would. It’s just after 1PM. We had a meeting at The Pecan’s school and it went long. For my own future edification, I’ll mark it as the first time outside-district placement was brought up even as a hypothetical to the team. Nobody’s respone to that, by the way, was that it was a terrible idea and/or unnecessary. When I asked if my genius-ass daughter was currently on track to finish a second grade curriculum by the end of the year, the answer was a solid maybe.

More meetings is how we first proceed. Those will be next week. Next week my other two Hungarian classes pick up (one of which I still need to register for), so time will be tight. I’m going to try to review the Pelican EP and maybe one or two other things, but if it’s light like it’s been these past weeks despite the fact that things are actually happening as everybody returns from break and starts rolling out 2026 announcements for records, tours, festivals, whatever it might be, I’m doing life stuff. I’ll write as much as I can, like always.

Honestly, a lot of this week I spent distracted ahead of this meeting that happened this morning, and I can still feel my body being ‘keyed up’ from being in that room. Part of me wants to take a shower about it. Part of me wants to take a nap. Part of me knows he should start his Hungarian homework. Also vacuum, reading, fucking off, going to buy bananas because we’re out and I forgot to bring my wallet when I went to take The Pecan her lunch so I couldn’t go to the store (which I realized of course right after I walked into it), and whatever else.

Anybody want to do a Zelda update? I might finish A Link Between Worlds when I’m done with this post. It’s not the longest game, but it’s a fitting successor to A Link to the Past, and given my 35-years-strong affection for that game, I can’t think of a higher compliment to pay it. Outside that franchise, I bought Dragon Quest XI last week off Facebook Marketplace and have been enjoying the early going of that. I played the first three Dragon Warrior games on NES, did Dragon Quest VII on PlayStation, so not my first time among the slimes and such, but it’s fun by which I mean deeply repetitive while you grind and explore. You can run up and smack monsters before you fight. I find that enjoyable. The Pecan’s been neck-deep in various Mario Party titles on the Switch. I don’t know which ones because in my view they’re all awful — I’ve always hated mini-games; even in A Link Between Worlds, there are heart pieces I’m kissing up because I don’t want to do the race, the target-shoot, whatever it is; I’ve done the same as I’ve played through the Zelda series, 2D and 3D — but when they’re not infuriating her, she’s enjoying herself. There is a fair bit of yelling at the tv involved though, and so I’m not sure how long the delve will last ultimately. “Are you sure you’re having fun right now?” is a question she might be asked on a given evening the last two weeks or so. No answer beyond the strongly implied “fuck you.”

I admire her persistence, of course — not that she hasn’t proven her ability to stick to her guns in everything she’s done for the eight years she’s been alive — but I also believe there’s value in walking the fuck away from a thing when it’s not working for you. That whole “quitter’s never win” ethic is reasonable until it’s applied needlessly to things you don’t actually want to be doing. Sometimes you need to move on.

Are we still talking about video games? Yes, but also the school, or sports, a job, whatever else, hypothetically. I ask myself if I still need this site in my life all the time. It’s an ongoing conversation I have. With me.

I’m light on plans for next week beyond catching up on news that I’m already behind on and reviewing whatever hits me hardest. I guess that’s not the best ‘stay tuned!’ teaser for the week to come, but hell, it’s Jan. 9 and the world has ended like three times in the last fucking week. My brain is elsewhere. How about everyone goes on a general strike and then I’ll blog more.

Fuck fascism. Fuck ICE. Fuck you if you think extrajudicial murder by regime-backed paramilitaries is okay. One more time, just to be clear. Get fucked. Forever. I will never forgive the contingent of my countrymen who have put the United States where it is. This regime will end — they all do — and for the rest of my life, I will carry a special hate reserved for just these people, most of whom look a lot like me. If you’re one of them, then you too can eat shit and die for all I fucking care. No safe space here for nazis.

Everyone else, have a great and safe weekend. Have fun out there and keep your head up as best you can. I’ll be hanging in and back on Monday with more.

FRM.

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What? You’re gonna argue? Fu Manchu says ‘new live record,’ fuzz heads say ‘how high?’ That is the order of things. It’s been a while, anyhow.

The Return To… Live is of course playing off the San Clemente, California, riff-kingpins’ 2024 2LP, The Return of Tomorrow (review here), and tracks from it like “Loch Ness Wrecking Machine,” “Hands of the Zodiac” and “The Return of Tomorrow” feature here from it, along with selections from the broader Fu catalog — the hits, as it were. Or some of them, anyhow. You get “Hell on Wheels” here but not “Regal Begal,” etc. Time and choices.

But the thing is — here’s the thing — okay it’s time for the thing — those new songs are killer, and they’re not on a live record yet, and Fu Manchu have been banging around on tours pretty much since The Return of Tomorrow came out. They either just were or still are on the West Coast, they’ve already done Europe and the Eastern Seaboard, and no doubt there’s more to come. Fans will want it for the new songs — that’s why I want it, anyhow, and I consider myself a fan — and either pick it up at a show or from the band direct, thereby helping to continue to sustain Fu Manchu as a group and DIY, self-releasing entity.

Side note, the last Fu live album was Live at Roadburn 2003 (which came out in 2019), so I’m pretty sure this will also be the first showings of “Dimension Shifter” from 2014’s Gigantoid (review here) and the title-track of 2018’s Clone of the Universe (review here) — aka the one with Alex Lifeson on it — as well. So a representation of the band as they are now, with some killer classics to boot. I’m sure this also could’ve easily been a double-vinyl, but hell’s bells, it’s Fu Manchu. No arguments necessary.

From social media:

Announcement from the road: Fu Manchu’s The Return of…Live is now available for pre-order and will be shipping after August 1st. A limited 1500 editions are available, white with orange, purple, and blue splatter from our site, exclusive magenta from Experience Vinyl, and white/transparent marble with red & yellow splatter is Revolvers exclusive color.

Preorder link: https://linktr.ee/FuManchu

Tracks:
1. Eatin’ Dust
2. Loch Ness Wrecking Machine
3. California Crossing
4. Hands Of The Zodiac
5. Dimension Shifter
6. Clone Of The Universe
7. Hell On Wheels
8. The Return Of Tomorrow
9. Saturn 3

Fu Manchu are:
Scott Hill – vocals guitar
Bob Balch – Lead guitar / backing vocals
Brad Davis – Bass – Backing vocals
Scott Reeder – Drums / Backing Vocals

https://www.fu-manchu.com/
https://fumanchuband.bandcamp.com/
https://linktr.ee/FuManchu
https://www.instagram.com/fumanchuband
https://www.facebook.com/FuManchuBand

Fu Manchu, “Saturn III” live at Pappy & Harriet’s, Pioneertown, CA, May 31, 2025

The lords of fuzz come back around with a new collection. Six years and one plague-interrupted three-EP 30th anniversary celebration later, San Clemente, California’s Fu Manchu offer what I count as their lucky 13th full-length, the 2LP The Return of Tomorrow, through their own At the Dojo Records. And while there’s been no lack of Fu-activity in the years since 2018’s Clone of the Universe (review here) — highlighted by the 18-minute “Il Mostro Atomico,” which featured a guest appearance from Alex Lifeson of Rush — the last year alone has seen solo- and other adjacent offerings from bassist Brad Davis (Gods of Sometimes), drummer Scott Reeder (Jacket Thief) and lead guitarist Bob Balch (Slower, Big Scenic Nowhere, Yawning Balch), with founding guitarist/vocalist Scott Hill as the only one not with a concurrent exploration, and fair enough as Hill‘s riffing has always been perceived as the central element to what Fu Manchu do. And as regards that core approach, The Return of Tomorrow is both loyal to the closely-guarded facets of the band’s structured, characteristic style, and willing to branch out a bit over the course of the included 13 songs and 50 minutes.

How Clone of the Universe ended with “Il Mostro Atomico” is relevant here in terms of The Return of Tomorrow‘s scope and how it’s presented as two shorter LPs combining to make the entire release, with the mullet-type construction of business-up-front-party-in-the-back, except with Fu Manchu, the business is the party. To explain, from “Dehumanize” through “Destroyin’ Light” — the first seven songs — the band are on an absolute tear. The material hits hard and is catchy in a way that fans will find familiar in pieces like “Roads of the Lowly,” “Hands of the Zodiac” and “Loch Ness Wrecking Machine,” etc., without really challenging the punk foundations of their sound or the clearly-ain’t-broken methodology of their songwriting. Hill delivers verses and choruses in recognizable patterns, and the band guide their listeners through a succession of stories about monsters (“Loch Ness Wrecking Machine”), psychic weirdos (“Hands of the Zodiac”) and the anxieties of the age and aging (“Dehumanize” and “(Time Is) Pulling You Under”) while kicking ass in classic Fu Manchu style, raw-ish in production in the spirit of the turn they made on 2014’s Gigantoid (review here) but wanting nothing for fullness of tone or emphatic groove.

It’s after “Destroyin’ Light” that an intended twist comes as “Lifetime Waiting” takes hold for the start of the second LP. Hill‘s stated purpose was to put the faster material first and then follow with a set of slower songs, each on its own platter, each like a short album unto itself. It doesn’t quite work out that way listening through — that is, it’s not so black and white between one and the other — as “Haze the Hides” digs in after “Hands of the Zodiac” or “The Return of Tomorrow” regrounds the proceedings following the Southern-rock-informed jammer “What I Need,” but one would hardly hold some display of dynamic against the band. It’s true the longest songs, “What I Need” (5:54) and “Solar Baptized” (6:00), both appear in the second half of the tracklisting, and while the penultimate “Liquify” bases itself around a funky start-stop riff, the lead flourish from Balch touches on psychedelia as it moves toward the end and the mellower instrumental vibing of “High Tide,” which closes in subdued, jammy fashion. So the listener can hear the one-to-the-other-type intention brought to bear in the songs themselves.

Mission accomplished? Yeah, at least mostly. Listening front-to-back, there is definitely a sense of expanding the reach as “Lifetime Waiting” gives over to “Solar Baptized,” but honestly, it’s all still Fu Manchu, and Fu Manchu wouldn’t be likely to put out a record at this point that wasn’t. That is to say, they know who they are and what they’re about, and while their songwriting has grown over the last three-plus decades and various productions have pushed them either toward largesse or a more stage-minded sound — The Return of Tomorrow leans toward the latter, which suits both the fast and slow material — taken as a whole, these songs aren’t trying to reinvent Fu Manchu 34 years later. You wouldn’t have asked Slayer not to be Slayer, or you wouldn’t tell Tony Iommi not to riff on a record.

To expect Fu Manchu to suddenly shift their entire approach when they’ve never shown any real interest in doing so would be ridiculous. Part of what makes The Return of Tomorrow work so well is the immediate familiarity of its hooks, with even the hard-hitting “Dehumanize” and “Haze the Hides” as a salve for tumultuous years, and the band can only be called correct to revel in that. Are they playing to audience? Maybe, but isn’t that also part of who they are as a band, writing a fresh batch of songs to take on the road for the next however long? Whether it’s two LPs or one, and even with the quirky construction — which is no less a showcase of the band’s persona than Hill‘s delivery of the title-line in “Loch Ness Wrecking Machine,” to be sure — The Return of Tomorrow celebrates Fu Manchu‘s context and their ability to make whatever they want to do fit with it. “High Tide” doesn’t conform to expectation in the same way as “Destroyin’ Light,” and “Solar Baptized” is downright expansive set next to “(Time Is) Pulling You Under,” which is a little over two minutes long and charged enough that the lines of the verse seem to interrupt each other on the way to Balch‘s next casually-shredded transitional solo.

The lesson here is probably that Fu Manchu can do whatever they want and make it work, even if part of that ambition is in maintaining the signature aspects of their broadly influential take on heavy rock and roll. At no point — even “Loch Ness Wrecking Machine” — do they slip into caricature, and their self-awareness becomes a strength as most of the material feels like it was made specifically for the stage and songs take different routes to get where they’re going. But it’s Fu Manchu, so yes, the songs are going, and the energy with which they do so is very much their own. Comforting even in its brashest moments, The Return of Tomorrow draws strength from self-awareness and dares some breadth around the central take reaffirmed by each chorus repeating in your head once it’s over. It wouldn’t be summertime without Fu Manchu.

Fu Manchu, “Hands of the Zodiac” visualizer

Fu Manchu on Facebook

Fu Manchu on Instagram

Fu Manchu on Bandcamp

Fu Manchu website

You couldn’t stop Fu Manchu if you wanted to, and for the life of me, why on earth would you try? The long-tenured fuzz heroes of San Clemente, California, have spent the last couple years embroiled in a celebration of their 30th anniversary that got derailed by a global pandemic but still resulted in three EPs coming out, reissuing past outings through their own At the Dojo Records imprint — they’ve got a snazzy and limited 2LP of 2004’s Go for It… Live! up for preorder now in addition to the new studio album that’s the impetus for this post — releasing the Live at Roadburn 2003 live LP and taking on not a small amount of touring.

All of this is in addition to guitarist Bob Balch branching out with multiple other projects — Big Scenic Nowhere, Yawning Balch, Slower, etc. — drummer Scott Reeder releasing his own solo debut under the moniker Jacket Thief and bassist Brad Davis collaborating with Andrew Giacumakis, formerly of Moab and a producer on Fu Manchu‘s last two albums, 2014’s Gigantoid (review here) and 2018’s Clone of the Universe (review here), as Gods of Sometimes, whose 2023 self-titled debut I sure hope gets a follow-up at some point or other.

Last week, the band put up a teaser video of a spinning test pressing, noted the approval of same, and began teasing the proverbial ‘big news.’ Today brings that news, of the next Fu Manchu album, a 2LP based around distinctions between faster and slower material (I love Slowmanchu), and as the outfit founded and fronted by guitarist/vocalist Scott Hill unveil the first single “Hands of the Zodiac” from the new record, titled The Return of Tomorrow, which like Clone of the Universe was captured at The Racket Room by Jim Monroe, their punk-born immediacy, trademark groove and swing feel well intact.

You’ll also note two European tours being announced today, for summer and the coming autumn. They’d been previously confirmed for Keep it Low in Munich and Desertfest Belgium, so the tour isn’t necessarily a surprise, but while you’re getting your preorder together, it’s something else to keep in mind.

But first, the track, which is at the bottom of this post, along with the most recent Fu30 EP, basically for the hell of it. If you dig heavy rock and roll at all, from any point in history, and you’ve never gotten into Fu Manchu — that person exists — today is as good a day as any, and any day that brings new Fu is a good day. Album’s out June 14.

Enjoy:

SoCal Rock Giants FU MANCHU Announce New Double Album, ‘The Return of Tomorrow,’ Coming June 14th

Album preorder: https://hifi247.com/collections/fu-manchu

Stream “Hands of the Zodiac”: https://lnk.to/FuManchu_HandsOfTheZodiac

European tour info & tickets: https://www.fu-manchu.com/

Groundbreaking pioneers of SoCal desert rock FU MANCHU, have announced details of their forthcoming, 14th album, The Return of Tomorrow, which will be released on June 14th via the band’s label At The Dojo Records.

FU MANCHU’s follow up to the critically lauded Clone of the Universe (2018) and their first ever double album is a sonic journey through massively heavy riffage, otherworldly space jams and mellow rock anthems divided into two records.

A 4,000 unit limited edition double vinyl version of The Return of Tomorrow pressed at 45RPM and packaged in a glossy gatefold jacket with one “Space” colored LP and one “Sky” colored LP is available now for pre-order with an exclusive merch design here: https://lnk.to/FuManchu_HandsOfTheZodiac

Commenting on the impending record, founding guitarist and vocalist Scott Hill says:

“When I listen to music, it’s either all heavy stuff with no mellow stuff mixed in or just softer stuff with no heavy stuff. I know a lot of bands like to mix it up and we have done that before, but I always tend to listen to all of one type of thing or the other. So, I figured we should do a double record with 7 heavy fuzzy songs on one record and the other record 6 mellow(er) songs fully realizing that maybe I’m the only person that likes to listen to stuff that way. We kept both the records to around 25-30 minutes each as to make it a full length release, but not have each record be too long. We don’t write a lot of mellow(er) stuff in Fu Manchu, but a lot of the riffs worked minus the fuzz. If you’re a vinyl person, both records are pressed at 45rpm to give it the best sound quality. If you’re a digital person, can make your own playlist and mix both the records together.”

Today, the band reveals the album’s artwork, track list and first single, “Hands of the Zodiac,” a heavy, fuzzed out jam replete with scorching guitar solos meant to be cranked at maximum volume.

Adding about the single, Hill sates:

“‘Hands Of The Zodiac’ is about an astrologer friend of mine who would always ask if we wanted to know anything about our future whenever we would hang out. He would look to the stars at night and ramble off all these weird predictions, none of which ever came true. He would say ‘zodiac hands’ and face the palm of his hand at you. I would always try to remember the things he said and almost every line in the song is something he said. For example, ‘Wheels / Motion / So Impressed,’ is based on how he talked about my writing songs / practicing / touring with the band ( ‘you got those wheels in motion)’ and Fu Manchu’s accomplishments (‘so impressed.’) I guess I should have given him a writing credit.”

Tracklist:
1. Dehumanize
2. Loch Ness Wrecking Machine
3. Hands of the Zodiac
4. Haze the Hides
5. Roads of the Lowly
6. (Time Is) Pulling You Under
7. Destroyin’ Light
8. Lifetime Waiting
9. Solar Baaptized
10. What I Need
11. The Return of Tomorrow
12. Liquify
13. High Tide

Also announced today, FU MANCHU will embark on European tours in June and October, including performances at festivals Graspop Metal Meeting, Copenhell and Hellfest. All upcoming tour dates listed below. Tickets available at https://www.fu-manchu.com/tour-dates.

FU MANCHU Tour Dates:
May 18 – Vancouver, BC – Modified Ghost 2024
June 15 – Tampere, FI – Tavara-asema
June 17 – Stockholm, SE – Slaktkyrkan
June 18 – Oslo, NO – Vulkan Arena
June 19 – Malmo, SE – Plan B
June 21 – Dessel, BE – Graspop Metal Meeting
June 22 – Copenhagen, DK – Copenhell
June 24 – Osnabruck, DE – Lagerhalle
June 25 – Cologne, DE – Stollwerck
June 26 – Frankfurt, DE – Batschkapp
June 28 – Clisson, FR – Hellfest (Valley Stage)
Oct 12 – Munich, DE – Keep It Low Festival @ Backstage
Oct 13 – Berlin, DE – Heavy Psych Sounds Fest @ Huxleys
Oct 15 – Vienna, AT – Arena
Oct 16 – Aarau, CH – KIFF
Oct 18 – Luxembourg City, LU – Atelier
Oct 19 – Antwerp, BE – Desertfest Belgium
Oct 21 – Manchester, UK – O2 Ritz
Oct 22 – Bristol, UK – Marble Factory
Oct 23 – London, UK – Electric Ballroom
Oct 25 – Masstricht, NL – Musiekgeiterj
Oct 26 – Hamburg, DE – Lazy Bones Festival @ Markthalle
Oct 27 – Dresden, DE – Heavy Psych Sounds Fest @ Chemiefabrik

Fu Manchu are:
Scott Hill – vocals guitar
Bob Balch – Lead guitar / backing vocals
Brad Davis – Bass – Backing vocals
Scott Reeder – Drums / Backing Vocals

https://www.facebook.com/FuManchuBand
https://www.instagram.com/fumanchuband
https://fumanchuband.bandcamp.com/
https://www.fu-manchu.com/

Fu Manchu, “Hands of the Zodiac” visualizer

Fu Manchu, Fu30 Pt. 3 EP (2023)

Fu Manchu are one of the greatest heavy rock bands of all time. Pick your era, doesn’t matter. They hold up against the nascent hard distorted blues of the ’70s, the post-grunge stonerism of the ’90s in which they came up in surf-happy San Clemente, California, and, well, they’ve had a hand in influencing all things riffy since, so yeah, that too. Their tenure as Fu Manchu marked its 30th anniversary in 2020 — timing is everything — and in addition to a return to touring post-covid, they’ve had two EPs out thus far to celebrate. So on top of their already established legacy in classics like 1996’s In Search Of…, 1997’s The Action is Go (discussed here) and 1999’s King of the Road (discussed here) — I’ll argue vehemently in favor of their first two records and their Century Media eras as well — they’re still adding to it. Their latest long-player was 2018’s Clone of the Universe (review here), which was both a burner that ticked all the boxes one would hope, and in what was surely a career highlight for the band, featured a guest appearance from Rush guitarist Alex Lifeson on the 18-minute finale “Il Mostro Atomico.”

At the time, three years between full-lengths was a pretty long time for Fu Manchu, but as they went from 2001’s California Crossing to 2004’s Start the Machine, they were in something of a transitional moment. That included parting ways with then-drummer Brant Bjork (Kyuss, now Stöner, etc.) and bringing in Scott Reeder (not to be confused with the bassist of the same name) to fill the role and signing with DRT Records after releasing the momentum-keeper Go for It… Live! through SPV in 2003. They’d worked with labels like Mammoth Records, Man’s Ruin and Bong Load for earlier albums, and as I recall DRT had some pretty decent distribution — Maryland’s Clutch were with them as well before a fallout, as well as several more commercial outfits — so it was something of an arrival for a band who, heading into their eighth album, were already veterans.

Start the Machine is about as clean and tight a Fu Manchu record as you’ll find. Not one of its 12 songs reaches the four minutes in length, and the 35-minute entirety is sharp in its execution and deceptively full in tone, the trademark fuzz of guitarists Scott Hill (also vocals) and Bob Balch and bassist/backing vocalist Brad Davis carried forth across material that could feel moderately paced but remained inherently loyal to Fu Manchu‘s punker roots while boasting maddeningly catchy hooks in songs like opener “Written in Stone,” “Hey,” “Make Them Believe,” “Today’s Too Soon,” “It’s All the Same,” and so on. As regards songwriting and the general efficiency of their work, Start the Machine wanted for nothing. Listening to it now, the band sound not only like they haven’t lost a step at all for the shift in lineup, but like they’re mature craftsmen of heavy rock and roll looking to expand their reach with a collection of killer songs. Kind of the ideal, right?

If you’re waiting for the ‘but,’ fair enough. Start the Machine is arguably the most maligned of Fu Manchu‘s records. And to put that to scale, I’ll say that any Fu Manchu album is better than, say, not a Fu Manchu album, but if you’re making a list in order of preference — a poll I’d love to conduct, just for the sheer nerdery of it — there’s little doubt Start the Machine would appear somewhere near the bottom. Part of that is an inevitable shift in trend and generational transition as some followers from the ’90s aged out and a new audience came up with a new expectation of what heavy rock was supposed to be — the times a-changing, and so forth — and part of it as well is probably down to the production of Brian Dobbs, who’d spent the better part of the decade prior working as an engineer with mega-producer Bob Rock on releases from the likes of Metallica, The Cult, AC/DC and Mötley Crüe, none of whom at that point were kicking out career highlights.

I refuse outright to ascribe motivations to either the band or the label involved — which is to say I won’t be calling Fu Manchu sellouts for working with a bigtime producer — and in the rager shove of “I Can’t Hear You,” the familiar start-stop declarations of “I’m Getting Away” and the twisting groove of the penultimate low-key melodic highlight “Tunnel Vision,” one can hear trademark elements of what has always made the band who they are, righteously reliable in songwriting and performance but able to break their own rules when they choose to do so. It’s spit-polished — and if you’re perhaps looking for some sense of the band’s feelings about it, one might put on the band’s 2007 outing, We Must Obey (discussed here), which is their biggest-sounding, maybe their hardest-hitting record as well — but there’s a lot, a lot, a lot to dig about Start the Machine, counter to its reputation.

So is this the part where I remind you that, hey, this record came out 18 years ago and maybe it’s worth checking in on again — perhaps digging into the band’s 2011 reissue with bonus demos, if you’re feeling saucy — to see how kind time has been to it? Hell yes it is. Because I’ll happily posit that time has been kind to Start the Machine, and while Fu Manchu‘s catalogue may have other, insurmountable landmarks — a few of them, and not all early in their career — this record deserves more love than it’s gotten in the past. California Crossing was a tough act to follow, but they did it in a way that now stands as a record unto itself in their discography and its songs have value even beyond their raw earwormness, prevalent though that is.

If nothing else. If you’ve read this and made it this far without clicking/pressing play above, take this as a sign that you should listen to some Fu Manchu today, and really, while you’re here, what’s the worst that can happen? “Written in Stone” gets stuck in your head? It’s been in mine for days now and you don’t hear me complaining.

As always, I hope you enjoy and thanks for reading.

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Well, I’m home. Have to wonder if, had I not put up a post saying I was traveling, anyone would’ve noticed. It was pretty light on posts this week, but with the Thanksgiving holiday here in the US anyway. We — The Patient Mrs., The Pecan and I — were in Sayulita, Mexico, for a couple days to celebrate the wedding of a couple with whom we’ve been friends for well over 15 years. Used to get drunk in their garage, now they’re small business owners and killing it at life generally. Trip was ups and downs as regards stress level, as anything involving a five year old will be, but lil dude took a surfing lesson AND sat on my lap while we drove a golf cart through the streets of town, The Patient Mrs. got to stock up on warmth as we head into winter (that’s how it works, right?) and I still had time to write and post, so everybody got what they needed from it. We even got ripped off  by a cop on the side of the road after running a red light. $60 cash, paid in an alley so fewer people would see. A quintessential tourist experience, I’d say. He was like “we’ll go to the station where there are fewer people” and I was like, “no, if you’re going to rob me I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The wedding itself was interesting. First one I’ve been to in a while. It was gorgeous, on a mountaintop, and because of the ‘destination’ nature, there weren’t a ton of people there. I spent most of my time chasing around The Pecan, which suits me just fine. He needs to be occupied or it’s all over, and that usually means motion (or reading, which is nice, but we didn’t bring books and it barely occurred to me to use a digital reader). The Patient Mrs. did most of the social labor, which is basically how it goes. And that is deeply appreciated, even beyond her organization of the rest of the trip, our lodgings, and so forth.

I find that as time goes on I have less and less to say to people, even in an obviously friendly situation like that. It turns out that perhaps having spent the last 14 years wholly immersed in ONE THING in terms of life focus limits one’s ability to engage in other things. Who’d’ve thought, right? I know. And since there are maybe 30,000 humans worldwide max who are conversant in the ways of Heavy, that means that I’m just kind of out there feeling out of place most of the time. In the end, I was grateful to have the kid to keep focused on. Used to be I just got plastered in situations like that. I can’t honestly endorse one approach over the other. My knee mostly held up as well, so that was a relief.

But it was what it was, a gorgeous day in a gorgeous place, so let’s do the math and reason that my lack of fit in paradise is more about my inner ugliness than anything else related to the circumstance. It was an event filled with cool, nice, people. I just don’t seem to belong anywhere that isn’t this couch or standing in front of a stage being blasted with volume. Also bed.

We got home last night after midnight and I slept until about 6:45. The Pecan woke up shortly after seven (unheard of) and The Patient Mrs. emerged from the bedroom at 8AM sharp. Today is errands and chores, unpacking, laundry, etc., and grocery shopping for the Thanksgiving dinner we’re hosting for family tomorrow. That will be good. I’m glad to be able to do things like that.

If you celebrated Thanksgiving, I hope it was a good one. My travels this week underscored for me America’s ongoing colonialist history, white people being generally terrible, etc., but the actual celebrating of the holiday is among my preferred. A meal with people you love. Could be far worse, even if the narrative behind it — ‘first Thanksgiving’ and all that — is, in the parlance of our times, full on cringe.

Next week is what passes for normal around here, with more premieres slated and this and that. I could look at the notes and list it all if you want? I know Monday is a Pia Isa video premiere that was set up a while ago, and the rest of the week is likewise rad. On a day dedicated to celebrating base commerce, I feel less inclined to plug my own shit, even if it doesn’t involve money exchanging hands. Sometimes I feel like promotion cheapens us all.

On that happy note, here’s a reminder that Gimme Metal airs a new ‘The Obelisk Show’ today at 5PM Eastern. Free to stream on their app or site: http://gimmemetal.com.

Thanks if you check that out and thanks either way for reading. Have a great and safe weekend. Hydrate, watch your head, try to dig your situation if you can. Love if and when you can.

Back Monday.

FRM.

The Obelisk Collective on Facebook

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

Day two of the Fall 2022 Quarterly Review brings a fresh batch of 10 releases en route to the total 100 by next Friday. Some of this is brand new, some of it is older, some of it is doom, some is rock, some is BongBongBeerWizards, and so on. Sometimes these things get weird, and I guess that’s where it’s at for me these days, but you’re going to find plenty of ground to latch onto despite that. Wherever you end up, I hope you’re digging this so far half as much as I am. Much love as always as we dive back in.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Fu Manchu, Fu30 Pt. 2

Like everyone’s everything in the era, Fu Manchu‘s 30th anniversary celebration didn’t go as planned, but with their Fu30 Pt. 2 three-songer, they give 2020’s Fu30 Pt. 1 EP (posted here) the sequel its title implied and present two originals and one cover in keeping with that prior release’s format. Tracked in 2021, “Strange Plan” and the start-stop-riffed “Low Road” are quintessential works of Fu fuzz, so SoCal they’re practically in Baja, and bolstered by the kinds of grooves that have held the band in good stead with listeners throughout these three-plus decades. “Strange Plan” is more aggressive in its shove, but perhaps not so confrontational as the cover of Surf Punks‘ 1980 B-side “My Wave,” a quaint bit of surferly gatekeeping with the lines, “Go back to the Valley/And don’t come back,” in its chorus. As they will with their covers, the four-piece from San Clemente bring the song into their own sound rather than chase down trying to sound like Reagan-era punk, and that too is a method well proven on the part of the band. If you ever believed heavy rock and roll could be classic, Fu Manchu are that, and for experienced heads who’ve heard them through the years as they’ve tried different production styles, Fu30 Pt. 2 finds an effective middle ground between impact and mellow groove.

Fu Manchu on Facebook

At the Dojo Records website

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Valborg, Der Alte

Not so much a pendulum as a giant slaughterhouse blade swinging from one side to the other like some kind of horrific grandfather clock, Valborg pull out all the industrial/keyboard elements from their sound and strip down their songwriting about as far as it will go on Der Alte, the 13-track follow-up to 2019’s Zentrum (review here) and their eighth album overall since 2009. Accordingly, the bone-cruncher pummel in cuts like “Kommando aus der Zukunft” and the shout-punky centerpiece “Hektor” is furious and raw. I’m not going to say I hope they never bring back the other aspects of their sound, but it’s hard not to appreciate the directness of the approach on Der Alte, on which only the title-track crosses the four-minute mark in runtime (it has a 30 second intro; such self-indulgence!), and their sound is still resoundingly their own in tone and the throaty harsh vocals on “Saturn Eros Xenomorph” and “Hoehle Hoelle” and the rest across the album’s intense, largely-furious-but-still-not-lacking-atmosphere span. If it was another band, you might call it death metal. As it stands, Der Alte is just Valborg, distilled to their purest and meanest form.

Valborg on Facebook

Prophecy Productions webstore

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Sons of Arrakis, Volume I

2022 is probably a good year to put out a record based around Frank Herbert’s Dune universe (the Duniverse?), what with the gargantuan feature film last year and another one coming at some point as blah blah franchise everything, but Montreal four-piece Sons of Arrakis have had at least some of the songs on Volume I in the works for the better part of four years, guitarists Frédéric Couture (also vocals) and Francis Duchesne (also keys) handling recording for the eight-song/30-minute outing with Vick Trigger on bass and Eliot Landry on drums locking in tight grooves pushing all that sci-fi and fuzz along at a pace that one only wishes the movie had shared. I’ve never read Dune, which is only relevant information here because Volume I doesn’t leave me feeling out of the loop as “Temple of the Desert” locks in quintessential stoner rock janga-janga shuffle and “Lonesome Preacher” culminates in twisty fuzz that should well please fans of Valley of the Sun before bleeding directly and smoothly into the melodic highlight “Abomination” in a way that, to me at least, bodes better for their longer term potential than whatever happenstance novelty of subject matter surrounds. There’s plenty of Dune out there if they want to stick to the theme, but songwriting like this could be about brushing your teeth and it’d still work.

Sons of Arrakis on Facebook

Sons of Arrakis on Instagram

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Voidward, Voidward

Voidward‘s self-titled full-length debut lands some nine years after the Durham, North Carolina, trio’s 2013 Knives EP, and accordingly features nearly a decade’s worth of difference in sound, casting off longer-form post-black metal duggery in favor of more riff-based explorations. Still at least partially metallic in its roots, as opener “Apologize” makes plain and the immediate nodder roll of “Wolves” backs up, the eight-song/47-minute outing is distinguished by the clean, floating vocal approach of guitarist Greg Sheriff, who almost reminds of Dave Heumann from Arbouretum, though no doubt other listeners will hear other influences, and yes that’s a compliment. Joined by bassist/backing vocalist Alec Ferrell — harmonies persist on “Wolves” and elsewhere — and drummer Noah Kessler, Sheriff brings just a hint of char to the tone of “Oblivion,” but the blend of classic heavy rock and metal throughout points Voidward to someplace semi-psychedelic but nonetheless richly ambient, and even the most straightforward inclusion, arguably “Chemicals” though closer “Cobalt” has plenty of punch as well, is rich in its execution. They even thrash a bit on “Horses,” so as long as it’s not another nine years before they do anything else, they sound like they can go wherever they want. Rare for a debut.

Voidward on Facebook

Clearly Records on Bandcamp

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Indus Valley Kings, Origin

The second long-player from Long Island, New York’s Indus Valley Kings, Origin brings together nine songs across an expansive 55 minutes, and sees the trio working from a relatively straightforward heavy rock foundation toward more complex purposes, whether that’s the spacious guitar stretch-out of “A Cold Wind” or the tell-tale chug in the second half of centerpiece “Dark Side of the Sun.” They effectively shift back and forth between lengthier guitar-led jams and more straight-up verses and choruses, but structure is never left too far behind to pick up again as need be, and the confidence behind their play comes through amid a relatively barebones production style, the rush of the penultimate “Drowned” providing a later surge in answer to the more breadth-minded unfurling of “Demon Beast” and the bluesy “Mohenjo Daro.” So maybe they’re not actually from the Indus Valley. Fine. I’ll take the Ripple-esque have-riffs-have-shred-ready-to-roll “Hell to Pay” wherever it’s coming from, and the swing of the earlier “…And the Dead Shall Rise” doesn’t so much dogwhistle its penchant for classic heavy as serve it to the listener on a platter. If we’re picking favorites, I might take “A Cold Wind,” but there’s plenty to dig on one way or the other, and Origin issues invitations early and often for listeners to get on board.

Indus Valley Kings on Facebook

Indus Valley Kings on Bandcamp

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Randy Holden, Population III

Clearly whoever said there were no second chances in rock and roll just hadn’t lived long enough. After reissuing one-upon-a-time Blue Cheer guitarist Randy Holden‘s largely-lost classic Population II (discussed here) for its 50th anniversary in 2020, RidingEasy Records offers Holden‘s sequel in Population III. And is it the work for which Holden will be remembered? No. But it is six songs and 57 minutes of Holden‘s craft, guitar playing, vocals and groove, and, well, that feels like something worth treasuring. Holden was in his 60s when he and Randy Pratt (also of Cactus) began to put together Population III, and for the 21-minute “Land of the Sun” alone, the album’s release a decade later is more than welcome both from an archival standpoint and in the actual listening experience, and as “Swamp Stomp” reminds how much of the ‘Comedown Era’s birth of heavy rock was born of blues influence, “Money’s Talkin'” tears into its solo with a genuine sense of catharsis. Holden may never get his due among the various ‘guitar gods’ of lore, but if Population III exposes more ears to his work and legacy, so much the better.

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The Gray Goo, 1943

Gleefully oddball Montana three-piece The Gray Goo remind my East Coast ears a bit of one-time Brooklynites Eggnogg for their ability to bring together funk and heavy/sometimes-psychedelic rock, but that’s not by any means the extent of what they offer with their debut album, 1943, which given the level of shenanigans in 10-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “Bicycle Day” alone, I’m going to guess is named after the NES game. In any case, from “Bicycle Day” on down through the closing “Cop Punk,” the pandemic-born outfit find escape in right-right-right-on nods and bass tone, partially stonerized but casting off expectation with an aplomb that manifests in the maybe-throwing-an-elbow noise of “Problem Child,” and the somehow-sleek rehearsal-space funk of “Launch” and “The Comedown,” which arrives ahead of “Shakes and Spins” — a love song, of sorts, with fluid tempo changes and a Primus influence buried in there somewhere — and pulls itself out of the ultra-’90s jam just in time for a last plodding hook. Wrapping with the 1:31 noise interlude “Goo” and the aforementioned “Cop Punk,” which gets the prize lyrically even with the competition surrounding, 1943 is going right on my list of 2022’s best debut albums with a hope for more mischief to come.

The Gray Goo on Facebook

The Gray Goo on Bandcamp

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Acid Rooster, Ad Astra

Oh, sweet serenity. Maybe if we all had been in that German garden on the day in summer 2020 when Acid Rooster reportedly performed the two extended jams that comprise Ad Astra — “Zu den Sternen” (22:28) and “Phasenschieber” (23:12) — at least some of us might’ve gotten the message and the assurance so desperately needed at the time that things were going to be okay. And that would’ve been nice even if not necessarily the truth. But as it stands, Ad Astra documents that secret outdoor showcase on the part of the band, unfolding with improvised grace across its longform pieces, hopeful in spirit and plenty loud by the time they get there but never fully departing from a hopeful sensibility, some vague notion of a better day to come. Even in the wholesale drone immersion of “Phasenschieber,” with the drums of “Zu den Sternen” seemingly disappeared into that lush ether, I want to close my eyes and be in that place and time, to have lived this moment. Impossible, right? Couldn’t have happened. And yet some were there, or so I’m told. The rest of us have the LP, and that’s not nothing considering how evocative this music is, but the sheer aural therapy of that moment must have been a powerful experience indeed. Hard not to feel lucky even getting a glimpse.

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BongBongBeerWizards, Ampire

A sophomore full-length from the Dortmund trio of guitarist/synthesist Bong Travolta, bassist/vocalist Reib Asnah and (introducing) drummer/vocalist Chill Collins — collectively operating as BongBongBeerWizards — Ampire is a call to worship for Weed and Loud alike, made up of three tracks arranged longest to shortest (immediate points) and lit by sacred rumble of spacious stoner doom. Plod as god. Tonal tectonics. This is not about innovation, but celebrating noise and lumber for the catharsis they can be when so summoned. Willfully repetitive, primitive and uncooperative, there’s some debt of mindset to the likes of Poland’s Belzebong or the largesse of half-speed Slomatics/Conan/Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard, but again, if you come into the 23-minute leadoff “Choirs and Masses” expecting genre-shaping originality, you’ve already fucked up. Get crushed instead. Put it on loud and be consumed. It won’t work for everybody, but it’s not supposed to. But if you’re the sort of head crusty enough to appreciate the synth-laced hypnotic finish of “Unison” or the destructive mastery of “Slumber,” you’re gonna shit a brick when the riffs come around. They’re not the only church in town, but it’s just the right kind of fun for melting your brains with volume.

BongBongBeerWizards on Facebook

BongBongBeerWizards on Bandcamp

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Mosara, Only the Dead Know Our Secrets

Any way you want to cut it with Mosara‘s second album, Only the Dead Know Our Secrets, the root word you’re looking for is “heavy.” You’d say, “Oh, well ‘Magissa’ has elements of early-to-mid-aughts sludge and doom at work with a raw presentation in its cymbal splash and shouted vocals.” Or you’d say, “‘The Permanence of Isolation’ arrives at a chugging resolution after a deceptively intricate intro,” or “the acoustic beginning of ‘Zion’s Eyes’ leads to a massive, engaging nod that shows thoughtfulness of construction in its later intertwining of lead guitar lines.” Or that the closing title-track flips the structure to end quiet after an especially tortured stretch of nonetheless-ambient sludge. All that’s true, but you know what it rounds out to when you take away the blah blah blah? It’s fucking heavy. Whatever angle you’re approaching from — mood, tone, songwriting, performance — it’s fucking heavy. Sometimes there’s just no other way, no better way, to say it. Mosara‘s 2021 self-titled debut (review here) was too. It’s just how it is. I bet their next one will be as well, or at very least I hope so. If you’re old enough to recall Twingiant, there’s members of that band here, but even if not, what you need to know is that Only the Dead Know Our Secrets is fucking heavy. So there.

Mosara on Facebook

Mosara on Bandcamp

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