Posted in Whathaveyou on January 16th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Austin, Texas, heavy rockers Duel announce a string of shows taking them to the West Coast for Heavy Psych Sounds Fest and more. The band also just announced that the annual Stoner Jam at SXSW in which they have a hand organizing, will return on March 16 and they and a shit ton of others are set to play. They’ve also got a live record on the way that was recorded at Hellfest in France on their 2022 European tour. So yeah, as we move into 2023, they’re in pretty good position to start the year, hitting Stoner Jam and Heavy Psych Sounds Fest(s), club shows, with a new live album, and so on. I don’t know what their plans are for the rest of the year — one wouldn’t mind catching them, say, at a big ol’ desert-type festival slated to happen in NYC this coming September — but they’re off to a busy start.
That seems to suit them just fine, and they’re a group who do well with momentum on their side. I was glad to catch them at Freak Valley and Psycho Las Vegas last year — they also played Hellfest (obviously), Monolith on the Mesa, and a bunch besides — and look forward to what’s to come after 2021’s In Carne Persona (review here) when they get there. Plenty happening in the meantime, though.
These dates were first announced like a week and a half ago, so yeah, I’m playing a bit of catchup after the Quarterly Review. Better late than blah blah blah and so on. From social media:
DUEL – West Coast and More
TOUR DATES
we’ve got a little run out to the west coast and back in March!!
3/16 Austin TX STONER JAM 2023
3/23 Tempe AZ @yuccataproom 3/24 Oceanside CA @pourhouseoceanside 3/25 San Francisco CA @theeparkside HEAVY PSYCH SOUNDS FEST 3/26 Joshua Tree CA @hidesertculturalcenter HEAVY PSYCH SOUNDS FEST 3/28 Colorado Springs CO at Vultures 3/29 Oklahoma City OK @okcbluenote 3/30 Dallas TX @divisionbrewing 3/31 Houston TX @the_end_houston 4/1 San Antonio TX @hitones_sa
Posted in Reviews on January 9th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to the second week of the Quarterly Review. Last week there were 50 records covered between Monday and Friday, and barring disaster, the same thing will happen this week too. I wish I could say I was caught up after this, but yeah, no. As always, I’m hearing stuff right and left that I wish I’d had the chance to dig into sooner, but as the platitude says, you can only be in so many places at one time. I’m doing my best. If you’ve already heard all this stuff, sorry. Maybe if you keep reading you’ll find a mistake to correct. I’m sure there’s one in there somewhere.
Winter 2023 Quarterly Review #51-60:
Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol, Doom Wop
Powered by eight-string-guitar and bass chug, Austin heavy party rockers Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol offer markedly heavy, Steve Brooks-style weight on “Doom Wop,” the title-track of their second album, and prove themselves catchy through a swath of hooks, be it opener “Heel,” “Chew” or “I’m the Fucking Man,” which, if the finale “Jesus Was an Alien” — perhaps the best, also the only, ‘Jesus doing stuff’ song I’ve heard since Ministry‘s “Jesus Built My Hotrod”; extra kudos to the band for making it about screwing — didn’t let you know the band didn’t take themselves too seriously, and their moniker didn’t even before you hit play, then there you go. Comprised of guitarist Leo Lydon, bassist Aaron Metzdorf and drummer Sean St. Germain, they’re able to tap into that extra-dense tone at will, but their songs build momentum and keep it, not really even being slowed by their own massive feel, as heard on “Chew” or “The Bog” once it kicks in, and the vocals remind a bit of South Africa’s Ruff Majik without quite going that far over the top; I’d also believe it’s pop-punk influence. Since making their debut in 2020 with Burger Babes… From Outer Space!, they’ve stripped down their songwriting approach somewhat, and that tightness works well in emphasizing the ’90s alt rock vibe of “The Room” or the chug-fuzzer “Fly Super Glide.” They had a good amount of hype leading up to the Sept. 2022 release. I’m not without questions, but I can’t argue on the level of craft or the energy of their delivery.
French heavy rock traditionalists DoctoR DooM return following a seven-year drought with A Shadow Called Danger, their late 2022/early 2023 follow-up to 2015’s debut, This Seed We Have Sown (review here). After unveiling the single “What They Are Trying to Sell” (premiered here) as proof-of-life in 2021, the three-piece ’70s-swing their way through eight tracks and 45 minutes of vintage-mindset stylizations, touching on moody Graveyardian blues in “Ride On” and the more uptempo rocker “The Rich and the Poor” while going more directly proto-metallic on galloping opener “Come Back to Yourself and the later “Connected by the Worst.” Organ enhances the sway of the penultimate “In This Town” as part of a side B expansion that starts with tense rhythmic underlayer before the stride of “Hollow” and, because obviously, an epilogue take on Händel‘s “Sarabande” that closes. That’ll happen? In any case, DoctoR DooM — guitarist/vocalist Jean-Laurent Pasquet, guitarist Bertrand Legrand, bassist Sébastien Boutin Blomfield and drummer Michel Marcq — don’t stray too far from their central purpose, even there, and their ability to guide the listener through winding progressions is bolstered by the warmth of their tones and Pasquet‘s sometimes gruff but still melodic vocals, allowing some of the longer tracks like “Come Back to Yourself,” “Hollow” and “In This Town” to explore that entirely imaginary border where ’70s-style heavy rock and classic metal meet and intertwine.
Clearly when you start out with a direct invocation of epic tales like “Gilgamesh (…and Enkidu’s Demise),” you’re going big. Portugal’s Stones of Babylon answer 2019’s Hanging Gardens (review here) with Ishtar Gate, still staying in Babylon as “Annunaki,” “Pazuzu,” the title-track, “The Fall of Ur,” and “Tigris and Euphrates” roll out instrumental embodiment of these historical places, ideas, and myths. There is some Middle Eastern flourish in quieter stretches of guitar in “Anunnaki,” “Pazuzu,” “The Fall of Ur,” etc., but it’s the general largesse of tone, the big riffs that the trio of guitarist Alexandre Mendes, bassist João Medeiros and drummer Pedro Branco foster and roll out one after the other, that give the sense of scale coinciding with their apparent themes. And loud or quiet, big and rolling or softer and more winding, they touch on some of My Sleeping Karma‘s meditative aspects without giving up a harder-hitting edge, so that when Ur falls, the ground seems to be given a due shake, and “Tigris and Euphrates,” as one of the cradles of civilization, caps the record with a fervency that seems reserved specifically for that crescendo. A few samples, including one at the very end, add to the atmosphere, but the band’s heart is in the heavy and that comes through regardless of a given moment’s volume.
Released on Halloween 2022, Alconaut‘s “Slugs” is a six-minute roller single following-up their 2019 debut album, Sand Turns to Tide, and it finds the Corsican trio fuzz-grooving their way through a moderate tempo, easy-to-dig procession that’s not nearly as slime-trail-leaving as its title implies. A stretch building up the start-stop central riff has a subtle edge of funk, but then the pedal clicks on and a fuller tone is revealed, drums still holding the same snare punctuation behind. They ride that stretch out for a reasonably unreasonable amount of measures before shifting toward the verse shortly before two minutes in — classic stoner rock — backing the first vocals with either organ or guitar effects that sound like one (nobody is credited for keys; accept the mystery) and a quick flash of angularity between lines of the chorus are likewise bolstered. They make their way back through the verse and then shift into tense chugging that’s more straight-ahead push than swinging, but still friendly in terms of pace, and after five minutes in, they stop, the guitar pans channels in re-establishing the riff, and they finish it big before just a flash of feedback cuts to silence. Way more rock and way less sludge than either their moniker or the song’s title implies, their style nonetheless hints toward emergent dynamic in its tonal changes even as the guitar sets forth its own hooks.
Instrumental save for the liberally distributed samples from Planet of the Apes, including Charlton Heston’s naming of Nova in “Nova” presented as a kind of semi-organic alt-techno with winding psychedelic guitar over a programmed beat, Maybe Human‘s Ape Law is the second long-player from the Los Angeles-based probably-solo outfit, and it arrives as part of a glut of releases — singles, EPs, one prior album — issued over the last two years or so. The 47-minute 10-songer makes its point in the opening title-track, and uses dialogue from the Apes franchise — nothing from the reboots, and fair enough — to fill out pieces that vary in their overarching impression from the heavy prog of “Bright Eyes” and the closing “The Killer Ape Theory” to the experimentalist psych of “Heresy.” If you’re looking to be damned to hell by the aforementioned Heston, check out “The Forbidden Zone,” but Ape Law seems to be on its most solid footing — not always where it wants to be, mind you — in a more metal-leaning guitar-led stretch like that in the second half of “Infinite Regression” where the guitar solo takes the forward role over a bed that seems to have been made just for it. The intent here is more to explore and the sound is rawer than Maybe Human‘s self-applied post-rock or pop tags might necessarily imply, but the deeper you go there more there is to hear. Unless you hate those movies, in which case you might want to try something else.
Beginning with its longest track (immediate points) in the nine-minute “Rust and Rot,” the third full-length from Vancouver’s Heron, Empires of Ash, offers significant abrasive sludge heft from its lurching outset, and continues to sound slow even in the comparatively furious “Hungry Ghosts,” vocalist/noisemaker Jamie having a rasp to his screams that calls to mind Yatra over the dense-if-spacious riffing of Ross and Scott and Bina‘s fluid drumming. Ambient sections and buildups like that in centerpiece “Hauntology” allow some measure of respite from all the gnashing elsewhere, assuring there’s more to the four-piece than apparently-sans-bass-but-still-plenty-heavy caustic sludge metal, but in their nastiest moments they readily veer into territory commonly considered extreme, and the pairing of screams and backing growls over the brooding but mellower progression on closer “With Dead Eyes” is almost post-hardcore in its melding aggression with atmosphere. Still, it is inevitably the bite that defines it, and Heron‘s collective teeth are razor-sharp whether put to speedier or more methodical use, and the contrast in their sound, the either/or nature, is blurred somewhat by their willingness to do more than slaughter. This being their third album and my first exposure to them, I’m late to the party, but fine. Empires of Ash is perfectly willing to brutalize newcomers too, and the only barrier to entry is your own threshold for pain.
A reissue of their 2020 second LP, My Octopus Mind‘s Faulty at Source (Bonus Edition) adds two tracks — “Here My Rawr,” also released as a single, and “No Way Outta Here Alive” — for a CD release. Whichever edition one chooses to take on, the range of the Bristol-based psych trio of guitarist/vocalist/pianist Liam O’Connell, bassist Isaac Ellis and drummer Oliver Cocup (the latter two also credited with “rawrs,” which one assumes means backing vocals) is presented with all due absurdity but a strongly progressive presence, so that while “The Greatest Escape” works in its violin and viola guest appearances from Rebecca Shelley and Rowan Elliot as one of several tracks to do the same, the feeling isn’t superfluous where it otherwise might be. Traditional notions of aural heft come and go — the riffier and delightfully bass-fuzzed “No Way Outta Here Alive” has plenty — while “Buy My Book” and the later “Hindenburg” envision psychedelic noise rock and “Wandering Eye” (with Shelley on duet vocals as well) adds mathy quirk to the proceedings, making them that march harder to classify, that much more on-point as regards the apparent mission of the band, and that much more satisfying a listen. If you’re willing to get weird, My Octopus Mind are already there. For at least over two years now, it would seem.
Having become a duo since their debut, 2019’s Lux in Morte (review here), was released, Et Mors are no less dirgey or misery-laden across Lifeless Grey for halving their lineup. Wretched, sometimes melodic and almost universally deathly doom gruels out across the three extended originals following the shorter intro “Drastic Side Effects” — that’s the near-goth plod of “The Coffin of Regrets” (9:45), “Tritsch” (16:13), which surprises by growing into an atmosludge take on The Doors at their most minimalist and spacious before its own consumption resumes, and “Old Wizard of Odd” (10:29), which revels in extremity before its noisy finish and is the ‘heaviest’ inclusion for that — and a concluding cover of Bonnie “Prince” Billy‘s “I See a Darkness,” the title embodied in the open space within the sound of the song itself while showcasing a soulful clean vocal style that feels like an emerging distinguishing factor in the band’s sound. That is, a point of growth that will continue to grow and make them a stronger, more diverse band as it already does in their material here. I’d be interested to hear guitarist/vocalist Zakir Suleri and drummer/vocalist Albert Alisaug with an expansive production able to lean more into the emotive aspects of their songwriting, but as it is on Lifeless Grey, their sound is contrastingly vital despite the mostly crawling tempos and the unifying rawness of the aural setting in which these songs take place.
Future Mirror is The Atomic Bomb Audition‘s first release since 2014 and their first studio album since 2011’s Roots into the See (review here), the returning Oakland-based four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Alee Karin, bassist/vocalist Jason Hoopes, drummer Brian Gleeson and synthesist/engineer The Norman Conquest reigniting their take on pop-informed heavy, sometimes leaning toward post-rock float, sometimes offering a driving hook like in “Night Vision,” sometimes alternating between spacious and crushing as on “Haunted Houses,” which is as much Type O Negative and Katatonia darkness as the opener “Render” was blinding with its sweet falsetto melodies and crashing grandeur. Two interludes, “WNGTIROTSCHDB” and “…Spells” surround “Golden States, Pt. 1” — note there is no second part here — a brief-at-three-minutes-but-multi-movement instrumental, and the linear effect in hearing the album as whole is to create an ambient space between the three earlier shorter tracks and the two longer ones at the finish, and where “Dream Flood” might otherwise be a bridge between the two, the listening experience is only enhanced for the flourish. Future Mirror won’t be for everybody, as its nuance makes it harder to categorize and they wouldn’t be the first to suffer perils of the ‘band in-between,’ but by the time they get the payoff of closer “More Light,” tying the heft and melody together, The Atomic Bomb Audition have provided enough context to make their own kind of sense. Thus, a win.
Maharaja‘s new EP, Aviarium (on Seeing Red), might be post-metal if one were to distill that microgenre away from its ultra-cerebral self-indulgence and keep only the parts of it most crushing. The downer perspective of the Ohio trio — guitarist Angus Burkhart, bassist Eric Bluebaum, drummer Zack Mangold, all of whom add vocals, as demonstrated in the shouty-then-noisy-then-both second track — is confirmed in the use of the suffix ‘-less’ in each of the four songs on the 24-minute outing, from opener “Hopeless” through “Soulless,” into the shorter, faster and more percussively intense “Lifeless” and at last arriving in the open with the engrossing roll of 10-minute finisher “Ballad of the Flightless Bird,” which makes a home for itself in more stoner-metal riffing and cleaner vocals but maintains the poise of execution that even the many and righteous drum fills of “Hopeless” couldn’t shake loose. It is not an easy or a smooth listen, but neither is it meant to be, and the ambience that comes out of the raw weight of Maharaja‘s tones as well as their subtle variation in style should be enough to bring on board those who’d dare take it on in the first place. Can be mean, but isn’t universally one thing or the other, and as a sampler of Maharaja‘s work it’s got me wanting to dig back to their 2017 Kali Yuga and find out what I missed.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 28th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
After celebrating five decades of Pentagram with a short stint of shows earlier in 2022, the band’s founding frontman, Bobby Liebling, will head to Texas in January to join forces with members of Sanctus Bellum, Blues Funeral, Doomstress — and a ton of other bands those dudes are in; Haserot in the case of bassist Ben Yaker and guitarist Maurice Eggenschwiler, James Rivera’s Metalwave in the case of Eggenschwiler and fellow guitarist Jan Kimmel, The Scourge in the case of drummer Alex Erhardt, etc. — under the banner of Bobby Liebling and The Rivetheads, playing rare Pentagram and Bedemon tunes and who even knows what else.
Liebling is an ever-divisive figure at this point, but someone without whose influence American doom wouldn’t be what it is. Interestingly he seems to have taken more of a reputation-tarnishing from punching his mom than the allegations of sexual harassment on tour, but any way you look at it, the story isn’t pretty. Nonetheless, dude’s lived at least eight lifetimes in his one, and with the likes of Fostermother, Stone Nomads, Mr. Plow and Bridge Farmers in opening slots for these two shows, it seems like good times will be had one way or the other. I’m not justifying anybody’s behavior or saying I support it in any way, but 50 years in doom later, Bobby Liebling is still relevant to the genre and there aren’t a lot of people you can say that about.
Announcement comes courtesy of the PR wire:
Pentagram’s Bobby Liebling to Play Solo Shows Highlighting Rare Material
Pentagram frontman Bobby Liebling announces two solo shows in Texas this January. Playing under the name Bobby Liebling and the Rivetheads, the singer will play a set of deep cuts and rare gems from throughout his storied career, including songs from both the Pentagram and Bedemon catalogs. Most of these songs have rarely, if ever, been played live previously. Joining Liebling for these shows will be a Houston-based backing band featuring members of Doomstress, Sanctus Bellum, and Blues Funeral. These shows promise to be an event that fans in attendance will not soon forget.
Bobby Liebling and the Rivetheads
Fri. Jan 27, 2023 – Houston, TX, Black Magic Social Club Feat. Fostermother, Mr. Plow, Stone Nomads Event page:https://fb.me/e/4bTU3bF9i
Sat. Jan 28, 2023 – Austin, TX, The Lost Well Feat. Bridgefarmers, 1 more TBA Event page:https://fb.me/e/30dxuJhyZ
Bobby Liebling and The Rivetheads: Bobby Liebling – Vocals Jan Kimmel – Guitar Maurice Eggenschwiler – Guitar Ben Yaker – Bass Alex Erhardt – Drums
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 9th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Sometimes someone puts you onto a band and it leaves you utterly flat. Sometimes someone puts you onto a band and you play it and find out it’s a massive-sounding collection of fuzz-drenched stoner metal roll with psychedelic flourish and noisy roots that spread out across six tracks on a 43-minute long-player that actually turns out to be a bit of a gem. Well hi, Bridge Farmers.
The Austin, Texas-based sludge rocking three-piece were brought to my attention last week with a pointing finger directed at their 2018 self-titled. The band, who of course are not to be confused with New York doomers Blood Farmers — we’re farming infrastructure here, remember — released their debut album, Din of Celestial Birds in 2010, and have little in common with the similarly-named NYC outfit in terms of methodology other than being trios. Bridge Farmers, with the lineup of guitarist/vocalist Tyler Hautala, bassist Garett Carr and drummer Kyle Rice, have a few other short offerings on their collective CV — a cover of Pink Floyd‘s “The Nile Song” in early 2020, a live record, Live at the Electric Church (you might recall fellow Austinites Duel released a set from the same venue in 2018), as the world shut itself down that Spring, an earlier two-songer from June 2016 and a concurrent single, “Wicked Sun,” which opens side B here. They are, in short, a band who made an album that someone told me I should check out. That happens from time to time, and if I’m lucky, it works out this well.
BridgeFarmers‘ Bridge Farmers, released only on LP/DL, basks in many elements that to current heavy heads will ring familiar. Throughout the record, there are shades of Electric Wizard (early and later, if you want to trace some of the shoutier vocals), Monolord, Sleep and Matt Pike more generally — opener “The Source” reminds somewhat of High on Fire‘s “Madness of an Architect” in the pattern of its riff — as well as more lurch-prone psychedelia later on in the gleefully blown-out penultimate cut “Death Moon” and the noisy back-end of subsequent finale “Pyramids of Montauk,” and of course Black Sabbath in the shuffle-under-a-dual-channel-guitar-solo crescendo of the closer’s side A counterpart, “Stoned Ape.”
Both of those tracks — “Stoned Ape” and “Pyramids of Montauk” — top 10 minutes long, where nothing else reaches six-point-five, so their placement at the culmination of each half of the record feels purposeful and the fact that they self-released it on vinyl instead of, say, cramming it all onto a CD and just telling people to pretend if was spinning slower or some such, speaks to that as well. They’re not the first band I’ve written about this week to set up an LP structure like this, and it’s something likely to be encountered next week as well, but even the idea of that division works in Bridge Farmers‘ favor in terms of how the songs feed into each other. It’s a time-tested method put to good use.
With “The Source” and side B’s “Wicked Sun” and “Death Moon” all shortly over six minutes long, the real outlier on the record is second track “Phosphene Temple.” Sandwiched between “The Source” and “Stoned Ape,” it’s relatively in and out at 3:48, and though it’s not punk or anything, there is an added sense of urgency that comes from the kick in tempo compared to much of what surrounds. It picks up from residual feedback and ends in — wait for it — residual noise before “Stoned Ape” announces itself with a riff that seems to lumber even without drums pushing it from behind, and during its stretch, the band maintain the weight of those other songs while making it move in a way that they’re just not universally interested in doing, and fair enough for changing it up. What ultimately unites “Phosphene Temple” with the rest of the album on which it features is the outright bite of its tonality and the somewhat chaotic atmosphere that creates across the board.
Since the self-titled followed eight years after the first, some change in methodology could hardly be called unreasonable, but it’s striking how much harder Bridge Farmers hits in comparison to Din of Celestial Birds, which sounds much clearer on the whole. Both the aforementioned 2016 two-songer, Frater Achad/Feast of Flesh, and that same year’s version of “Wicked Sun” have kind of a demo, live-in-the-room sound to them (whether or not they were recorded live in the rehearsal space, I don’t know), but even before one gets to the sheer amount of noise and feedback pushed into these tracks — which puts you about as far as the intro to “The Source,” where a harsh ring of feedback features before the verse starts — the fullness of the guitar and bass is a distinct departure from Bridge Farmers circa 2010. Whatever might be behind that shift, if it’s change in personnel or more general mindset, I don’t know. Again, someone just told me to check out this band — thanks, Marzia — and I did. You can hit them up and find out how come they got so mean toward the end of the decade.
Before you do, make sure you give due attention to the semi-psych reach of “Death Moon.” It shows itself first in the lead guitar atop a steady-as-ever mid-paced nodder of a groove, and comes around again to some degree in the song’s second half. This pairs “Death Moon” — that’s not a space station! — with “Pyramids of Montauk,” which is as righteous a finale as one could hope to encounter tucked away under all that riffy morass. The vocals seem to cut through more in the early verses, no less hypnotic than the crash behind, and while the noise quotient is maintained — as, by the way, one would hope; please don’t read any of this as complaint about too much noise; noise it up, noisemakers — there’s breadth enough to set up well the shift the track makes before the five-minute mark, beginning an outward roll from which it’s readily apparent they’re not coming back.
First it gets fast and loud, then it gets delightfully weird, and they slow down again as they end it — classic move — but that shove is effective in adding to the overarching spaciousness that in there in some of the material, despite the somewhat manic cast of that moment. That is, it’s stars exploding, not zero-gravity drift, and the band’s willingness to not only call back to “Phosphene Temple” in terms of pacing but add a hint of something new while doing so makes the finish all the more satisfying.
I was told to listen and I’m glad I did. I’m writing about Bridge Farmers now in the hope that maybe the same will be the case for you.
Thanks for reading.
—
I’m writing to you from gate 63 at terminal B of Newark Liberty Airport. In about two hours, I’ll board SAS flight SK 904 to Stockholm, Sweden, where this weekend I’ll attend Truckfighters Fuzz Festival #3 (info here) in the company of New York’s Kings Destroy, with whom I’m traveling. This will be my first time in Sweden, and to say I’m looking forward to actually setting foot in the country that has produced so much of the music I love — from Dozer and Greenleaf and Truckfighters, who are playing, to perhaps actually hundreds of other bands through the ages — is me trying to play it cool. In what is probably no longer the parlance of our times, I’m stoked.
Until about the middle of last week, I thought this trip was happening next week — the 16th and 17th for the fest instead of the 9th and 10th — and so the last few days have been a bit hairy as I’ve gone from getting home from Richmond, Virginia, on Sunday after attending the Alabama Thunderpussy reunion the night before to getting myself packed and ready to roll out today, which is Thursday. But I’m here. I’m pretty sure I packed enough crap, and if not, I hear that major urban centers around the world are stocked with, you know, more crap. So yes, even if it’s been a crunch to prepare, and even if I feel that much more guilt for being apart from The Patient Mrs. and The Pecan two weekends in a row I’m excited for what’s to come, musically at the fest, seeing people, hopefully seeing a bit of the city on Sunday before I leave first thing Monday morning local time.
I’m reviewing the fest, of course. I’ll try to post some photos on socials if I get anything decent, and the reviews of each night will be up Monday and Tuesday, respectively. I know, what happened to posting on the weekend, dude? Been doing too much of that shit, and I feel like the gains are minimal. Plus, with the way my travel schedule is, it gives me something to have for the first part of the week, since in terms of writing ahead of time, I essentially lose both Monday and Tuesday to travel. I’ll be back in New Jersey on Monday afternoon, barring disaster, but I neither expect to be able to nor will I likely have the brain power to take my laptop out and start working on a review first thing through the door. There’s gonna be dishes to do, I already know. It’s fine, Wendy. I get it. We’re all doing our best.
So I’ll post the review of the second day of Fuzz Festival on Tuesday from home, and that morning, slip back into the routine of getting up early to work on reviews and other whatnot. It is my sincere hope that by Wednesday I’m back up to a normal amount of posting, and I remain fully aware that if that doesn’t happen, I am the only person who gives even the remotest semblance of a crap.
To follow-up: last week I was feeling pretty down. Down on this site, down on things more generally in my day-to-day, down on me, etc. I got a few supportive comments and a few encouraging emails from people and I want to say thanks to everybody who reached out. I didn’t have that in mind when I was writing last Friday, but it means a lot to know that someone’s out there and cares enough to get in touch. If that was you, and it very well might’ve been since I don’t think a lot of people read these posts this far down, thank you.
Today (Friday) is a new episode of ‘The Obelisk Show’ on Gimme Metal. If you want a preview of some of what will feature around here in year-end coverage, tune in. 2PM Pacific, 5PM Eastern. Free to listen on their app or http://gimmemetal.com.
Thanks if you check that out, thanks to everyone who’s contributed to the Best of 2022 Poll, and thanks to you for reading.
I hope you have a great and safe weekend. We’re getting on holiday time. If you need a mental health break, take it (he said frantically typing so he can finish this post before his group boards the plane). Otherwise, check back Monday for Fuzz Festival coverage and a whole bunch of other adventures to come.
Posted in Reviews on December 9th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Now a decade removed from their debut album, Austin, Texas’ Destroyer of Light remain persistent outliers in doom, and that seems to suit them just fine. Panic, recorded by Matt Meli — with whom they’ve worked since that self-titled first record — and topped off with Samantha Muljat cover art that hints toward the sonic depths contained in the songs, their fourth full-length is aptly-titled Panic, self-released, and continues the progression that’s been a linear thread through their work all along.
As they’ve matured, Destroyer of Light — the returning four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Steve Colca (also synth), guitarist Keegan Kjeldsen (also piano, harsh vocals, acoustic guitar), bassist Nick Coffman and drummer Kelly “Penny” Turner — have unfurled an increasingly melodic approach, and if their intent in Panic is to encapsulate some measure of the pandemic-born anxiety of the last several years since the release of 2019’s third record, Mors Aeterna (review here), then the tension of not only the title but songs like “Contagion,” the highlight centerpiece “Before You Die” and the concluding “Nightmares Come True” do so with a surety born of a group who know their craft. This comes through regardless of the turns any of the individual seven inclusions is making at a given stretch, as the band draw together varied material that hits all its marks stylistically while maintaining an overarching flow that feels like classic doom despite a more modern style. That is to say, at a tightly-packed 38 minutes, Panic is more methodical, more thought-out and more carefully put together than the title might lead one to believe.
Alongside the opening distorted strums of “Darkshimmer” at the album’s outset is, almost inevitably, an echoing air raid siren. It almost gets buried by the ensuing things-are-about-to-get-lurchy feedback, but it’s there, and by the time what becomes the central riff of the song starts just before a minute into its total 7:14 — opener and longest track (immediate points) — the atmosphere is set. Tonal largesse, rolling groove, a layer of lead guitar all seem to welcome the listener into the unfolding terrain as the chug of the verse emerges, and “Darkshimmer” becomes the first installment of a side-A-spanning trilogy marked by Kjeldsen joining Colca on vocals, adding deathly growls and rasp to the clean-sung verses and hooks. This takes place on “Darkshimmer” and “Contagion,” with side A rounded out by “The Midnight Sun,” and that feels as purposeful as it obviously is.
“Darkshimmer” teases a false ending before picking up in its last minute, and beginning with piano playing its chorus progression, “Contagion” — which Colca maintains was written before covid and follows not the only sci-fi narrative lyrically — is a standout hook for Panic as a whole; Colca‘s self-harmonies among the band’s catchiest. That it too gives over to a more brutal approach, specifically toward the end, brings a cast of sludge to the proceedings, and that fits Destroyer of Light well. I’m not sure I’d give up the penchant for melody that’s taken hold in their sound gradually over the last 10 years and especially over the last six or so, but in adding to the existential weight that carries across Panic, those flashes of brutality only give more breadth to this material and thus only make it stronger, allowing for the fluid transition to cleans-only as “The Midnight Sun” arrives with a sample and lays out a speedier push at first and an especially spacious solo later on — the plodding bass and drums in that back half deserve specific mention; you feel that slog — emblematic of the focus on side B to come.
Both halves of Panic — the first with three songs, the second with four shorter on average — organize themselves going from their longest to shortest tracks. That’s a two-second difference as the aforementioned “Before You Die” (5:24) gives over to “Cold Air I” (5:22), but true nonetheless. More crucial perhaps is the abiding mournfulness of the guitar that begins “Before You Die” and the lumbering that ensues, vocals soaring upward from the deeper places in the mix, an emotive doom metal that has become Destroyer of Light‘s own over time blossoming in misery. “Cold Air I” rolls out in more active fashion but holds firm to the heft, and expands the arrangement of backing vocals in the chorus, an example of the band trying new ideas and a theme that will continue into the acoustic-led “Cold Air II.”
Certainly they’ve had quieter stretches on records before — 2017’s Chamber of Horrors (review here) had atmospheric intros to its two sides, etc. — but “Cold Air II” is distinguished in its form and embraces the pairing of acoustics and synth in a way that feels legitimately new from them. What’s more, there are vocals, and amid the vague impressions from “Planet Caravan” as they explore that contemplative guitar line before the keyboard sweeps in to lead the way instrumentally through the last two-plus minutes, there’s a sense of completion that is resonant and no less immersive than was the rawer heaviness of “Darkshimmer” or “Contagion.” At four and a half minutes and directly fed into by the ending of “Cold Air I,” as one might expect, “Cold Air II” lays claim to new ground with an unquestionable confidence.
It’s not the first flash of Candlemassian vibe on Panic, but “Nightmares Come True” feels particularly drawn from that classic, epic doom mindset. No complaints. It’s a deceptively quick undulating riff in the verse, opening in the chorus, and it re-grounds the album at the finish after “Cold Air II,” summarizing the reach of side B with a return of the thud and straightforward take that marked side A. That’s a lot to ask of a four-minute song, but Destroyer of Light cap by emphasizing urgency, and so recapture some of that initial tension. They remain pervasively grim in perspective, and familiar comparisons to the likes of Pallbearer persist — because, well, when you’re this sad and this heavy, someone’s gonna make that connection — but this comes even as they offer some of their most gleaming melodicism, and as they have all along, they refuse to stagnate creatively, each of Panic‘s well-defined halves marked by elements that increase their range on the whole. One would expect or hope for nothing so much as for them to continue to flourish as they do here.
Posted in Whathaveyou on October 31st, 2022 by JJ Koczan
When Destroyer of Light are done — and hopefully that’s not for a long time and many more riffs from now — there’s gonna be a whole lot of people who will be sorry they never got to see them in-person, and there’s going to be a whole lot of people who will be really glad they did. Now, I’ve been on both ends of that equation, and I firmly believe the former is a bummer and the latter is the stuff of glorious revelry, but you can go ahead and figure out which said of this particular fence you want to be on. Me, I’m glad as hell to have seen this band. I wouldn’t mind doing so again at some point.
The band’s new album, Panic, will be released on Nov. 11, and they’ve got the single “Contagion” streaming now, putting the sorrowful chug of Pallbearer to their own apocalyptic and atmospheric use. It hasn’t been that long in actual-time since their Spring 2019 LP, Mors Aeterna (review here), even if it seems like it, but it seems their sound is particularly suited to uncertain times, and one need not look far to apply the metaphor to “Contagion,” even as guitarist/vocalist Steve Colca informs it was written before covid happened.
They’ll be out doing shows when the album is issued, playing in Dallas that night. I would expect more dates to follow as well, but here’s these in the meantime, from social media with a quote from Colca about “Contagion” hoisted off the PR wire:
To celebrate the release of Panic in November, we have some shows lined up. Mark it in your calendar and come hang with us. Artwork by Samantha Muljat.
Nov. 9th – Tulsa OK @ Whittier Bar Nov. 10th – Fayetteville AR @ Nomad’s Nov. 11th – Dallas TX @ Cheapsteaks Nov. 12th – San Antonio TX @ Faust
“Thematically, the ‘PANIC’ album deals with natural disasters and people losing their minds as a result,” Steve Colca tells us. “They become selfish in panicked situations. This song, ‘Contagion,’ is about a virus that is causing people to go crazy and turn on each other. End-of-the-world type paranoia and chaos-type mania. Ironically, I wrote this song — the music and lyrics — prior to the pandemic. There’s some moments of calm in the song, but ultimately it becomes heavingly heavy.”
Destroyer of Light on ‘Panic’: Steve Colca – vocals, guitars, and synth Keegan Kjeldsen – Guitars, Acoustic, Piano, Backing screams and vocals on Darkshimmer, Contagion, and The Midnight Sun.
Destroyer of Light: Steve Colca – Vocals/Guitars Keegan Kjeldsen – Guitars Nick Coffman – Bass Kelly Turner – Drums
Posted in Whathaveyou on October 21st, 2022 by JJ Koczan
I guess I kind of missed out on The Sword. I had some experience with them early, their demo, the subsequent Age of Winters (discussed here), and I gave 2018’s Used Future a short and entirely-superfluous-to-the-universe review, but there’s not much coverage for them to be found in these ‘pages,’ and as founding guitarist/vocalist John D. Cronise draws the curtain on the band — am I right in thinking they broke up for a short time previously? was it when Trivett Wingo left? — it occurs to me that, yeah, they kind of did a whole cycle of success that I basically whiffed on. Can’t catch ’em all, whatever the Pokémon trainer says.
The last time I saw them was in 2011, so you’re not going to find me claiming any real expertise, but they were and may someday again be a band that a lot of people loved, so their breakup is certainly noteworthy. They did Ripplefest Texas this year, Psycho Las Vegas last year. They’ve been around, and put in years of hard road time. I don’t think they’ll be the last of their generation to kind of age out over the next few years — they’re not the first, for that matter — but if they’re really done, they achieved more than most ever do in spreading the word of heavy riffs, and for that one can be only grateful.
Cronise’s statement from social media follows here:
Hello friends,
I find it my duty to inform you that, after much contemplation, I have reached the difficult conclusion that it’s time to bring The Sword’s long and storied career to a close. When I started the band back in 2004, I could’ve only hoped for the successes we’ve enjoyed, and I consider myself extremely lucky to have been able to do it for a living for almost two decades. In that time everything I ever wanted to say and do with The Sword creatively has been said and done, and so the time has come for me to move on to other endeavors.
Thanks to everyone who’s ever come to a show, bought our albums and merch, and supported us over the years. Thanks to everyone who’s teched, tour managed, done sound, or sold merch for us. Thanks to all the bands who’ve taken us on tour and to all the bands we’ve taken on tour.
Thanks to the promotors and venues who booked us and let us play. Thanks to the producers and recording engineers who worked on our albums and to the labels that released them.
Thanks to Josh our booking agent and Mark our business manager, whom we are glad to count as friends. And most of all thanks to my bandmates, Kyle, Bryan, Jimmy, and Trivett, for having faith in me and allowing me to realize my vision. You dudes are true legends.
It’s been a helluva journey. Now it’s time for the next chapter…
Posted in Reviews on September 27th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Here we go again as we get closer to 100 records covered in this expanded Fall 2022 Quarterly Review. It’s been a pretty interesting ride so far, and as I’ve dug in I know for sure I’ve added a few names (and titles) to my year-end lists for albums, debuts, and so on. Today keeps the thread going with a good spread of styles and some very, very heavy stuff. If you haven’t found anything in the bunch yet — first I’d tell you to go back and check again, because, really? nothing in 60 records? — but after that, hey, maybe today’s your day.
Here’s hoping.
Quarterly Review #61-70:
Spirit Adrift, 20 Centuries Gone
The second short release in two years from trad metal forerunners Spirit Adrift, 20 Centuries Gone pairs two new originals in “Sorcerer’s Fate” and “Mass Formation Psychosis” — songs for our times written as fantasy narrative — with six covers, of Type O Negative‘s “Everything Dies,” Pantera‘s “Hollow,” Metallica‘s “Escape,” Thin Lizzy‘s “Waiting for an Alibi,” ZZ Top‘s “Nasty Dogs and Funky Kings” and Lynyrd Skynyrd‘s “Poison Whiskey.” The covers find them demonstrating a bit of malleability — founding guitarist/vocalist does well with Phil Lynott‘s and Peter Steele‘s inflections while still sounding like himself — and it’s always a novelty to hear a band purposefully showcase their influences like this, but “Sorcerer’s Fate” and “Mass Formation Psychosis” are the real draw. The former nods atop a Candlemassian chug and sweeping chorus before spending much of its second half instrumental, and “Mass Formation Psychosis” resolves in burly riffing, but only after a poised rollout of classic doom, slower, sleeker in its groove, with acoustic strum layered in amid the distortion and keyboard. Two quick reaffirmations of the band’s metallic flourishing and, indeed, a greater movement happening partially in their wake. And then the covers, which are admirably more than filler in terms of arrangement. Something of a holdover, maybe, but by no means lacking substance.
Just because it’s so bludgeoning doesn’t necessarily mean that’s all it is. The melodic stretch of “Forbidden World of Light” and delve into progressive black metal after the nakedly Crowbarian sludge of “A Path Beyond Grief,” the clean vocal-topped atmospheric heft of “What Must Be Done” and the choral feel of centerpiece “Carried,” even the way “Of Shadow and Sanguine” seems to purposefully thrash (also some more black metal there) amid its bouts of deathcore and sludge lumbering — all of these come together to make Northless‘ fourth long-player, A Path Beyond Grief, an experience that’s still perhaps defined by its intensity and concrete tonality, its aggression, but that is not necessarily beholden to those. Even the quiet intro “Nihil Sanctum Vitae” — a seeming complement to the nine-minute bring-it-all-together closer “Nothing That Lives Will Last” — seems intended to tell the listener there’s more happening here than it might at first seem. As someone who still misses Swarm of the Lotus, some of the culmination in that finale is enough to move the blood in my wretched body, but while born in part of hardcore, Northless are deep into their own style throughout these seven songs, and the resultant smashy smashy is able to adjust its own elemental balance while remaining ferociously executed. Except, you know, when it’s not. Because it’s not just one thing.
Comprised of five songs running a tidy 20 minutes, each brought together through ambience as well as the fact that their titles are all three letters long — “Aer,” “Hyd,” “Orb,” “Wiz,” “Rue” — AER is the debut EP from German instrumentalists Lightrain, who would seek entry into the contemplative and evocative sphere of acts like Toundra or We Lost the Sea as they offer headed-out post-rock float and heavy psychedelic vibe. “Hyd” is a focal point, both for its eight-minute runtime (nothing else is half that long) and the general spaciousness, plus a bit of riffy shove in the middle, with which it fills that, but the ultra-mellow “Aer” and drumless wash of “Wiz” feed into an overarching flow that speaks to greater intentions on the part of the band vis a vis a first album. “Rue” is progressive without being overthought, and “Orb” feels born of a jam without necessarily being that jam, finding sure footing on ground that for many would be uncertain. If this is the beginning point of a longer-term evolution on the part of the band, so much the better, but even taken as a standalone, without consideration for the potential of what it might lead to, the LP-style fluidity that takes hold across AER puts the lie to its 20 minutes being somehow minor.
Cleanly produced and leaning toward sleaze at times in a way that feels purposefully drawn from ’80s glam metal, the second offering from Poland’s 1965 — they might as well have called themselves 1542 for as much as they have to do sound-wise with what was going on that year — is the 12-song/52-minute Panther, which wants your nuclear love on “Nuclear Love,” wants to rock on “Let’s Rock,” and would be more than happy to do whatever it wants on “Anything We Want.” Okay, so maybe guitarist, vocalist and principal songwriter Michał Rogalski isn’t going to take home gold at the Subtlety Olympics, but the Warsaw-based outfit — him plus Marco Caponi on bass/backing vocals and Tomasz Rudnicki on drums/backing vocals, as well as an array of lead guitarists guesting — know the rock they want to make, and they make it. Songs are tight and well performed, heavy enough in tone to have a presence but fleet-footed in their turns from verse to chorus and the many trad-metal-derived leads. Given the lyrics of the title-track, I’m not sure positioning oneself as an actual predatory creature as a metaphor for seduction has been fully thought through, but you don’t see me out here writing lyrics in Polish either, so take it with that grain of salt if you feel the need or it helps. For my money I’ll take the still-over-the-top “So Many Times” and the sharp start-stops of “All My Heroes Are Dead,” but there’s certainly no lack of others to choose from.
Blacklab — also stylized BlackLab — are the Osaka, Japan-based duo of guitarist/vocalist Yuko Morino and drummer Chia Shiraishi, but if you’d enter into their second full-length, In a Bizarre Dream, expecting some rawness or lacking heft on account of their sans-bass configuration, you’re more likely to be bowled over by the sludgy tonality on display. “Cold Rain” — opener and longest track (immediate points) at 6:13 — and “Abyss Woods” are largely screamers, righteously harsh with riffs no less biting, and “Dark Clouds” does the job in half the time with a punkier onslaught leading to “Evil 1,” but “Evil 2” mellows out a bit, adjusts the balance toward clean singing and brooding in a way that the oh-hi-there guest vocal contribution from Laetitia Sadier of Stereolab (after whom Blacklab are partially named) on “Crows, Sparrows and Cats” shifts into a grungier modus. “Lost” and “In a Bizarre Dream,” the latter more of an interlude, keep the momentum going on the rock side, but somehow you just know they’re going to turn it around again, and they absolutely do, easing their way in with the largesse of “Monochrome Rainbow” before “Collapse” caps with a full-on onslaught that brings into full emphasis how much reach they have as a two-piece and just how successfully they make it all heavy.
I guess the only problem that might arise from recording your first two-songer with Steve Albini is that you’ve set an awfully high standard for, well, every subsequent offering your band ever makes in terms of production. There are traces of Karma to Burn-style chug on “Ectotherm,” the A-side accompanied by “Writhing Mass” on the two-songer that shares the same name, but Chicago imstrumental trio Sun King Ba are digging into more progressively-minded, less-stripped-down fare on both of these initial tracks. Still, impact and the vitality of the end result are loosely reminiscent, but the life on that guitar, bass and drums speaks volumes, and not just in favor of the recording itself. “Writhing Mass” crashes into tempo changes and resolves itself in being both big and loud, and the space in the cymbals alone as it comes to its noisy finish hints at future incursions to be made. Lest we forget that Chicago birthed Pelican and Bongripper, among others, for the benefit of instrumental heavy worldwide. Sun King Ba have a ways to go before they’re added to that list, but there is intention being signaled here for those with ears to hear it.
Despite the somewhat grim imagery on the cover art for Kenodromia‘s self-titled debut EP — a three-cut outing that marks a return to the band of vocalist Hilde Chruicshank after some stretch of absence during which they were known as Hideout — the Oslo, Norway, four-piece play heavy rock through and through on “Slandered,” “Corrupted” and “Bound,” with the bluesy fuzzer riffs and subtle psych flourishes of Eigil Nicolaisen‘s guitar backing Chruicshank‘s lyrics as bassist Michael Sindhu and drummer Trond Buvik underscore the “break free” moment in “Corrupted,” which feels well within its rights in terms of sociopolitical commentary ahead of the airier start of “Bound” after the relatively straightforward beginning that was “Slandered.” With the songs arranged shortest to longest, “Bound” is also the darkest in terms of atmosphere and features a more open verse, but the nod that defines the second half is huge, welcome and consuming even as it veers into a swaggering kind of guitar solo before coming back to finish. These players have been together one way or another for over 10 years, and knowing that, Kenodromia‘s overarching cohesion makes sense. Hopefully it’s not long before they turn attentions toward a first LP. They’re clearly ready.
Mezzoa are the San Diego three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Ignacio “El Falcone” Maldonado, bassist Q “Dust Devil” Pena (who according to their bio was created in the ‘Cholo Goth Universe,’ so yes, charm is a factor), and drummer Roy “Bam Bam” Belarmino, and the 13-track/45-minute Dunes of Mars is their second album behind 2017’s Astral Travel. They sound like a band who’ve been around for a bit, and indeed they have, playing in other bands and so on, but they’ve got their approach on lockdown and I don’t mean for the plague. The material here, whether it’s the Helmet-plus-melody riffing of “Tattoos and Halos” or the more languid roll of the seven-minute “Dunes of Mars” earlier on, is crisp and mature without sounding flat or staid creatively, and though they’re likened most to desert rock and one can hear that in the penultimate “Seized Up” a bit, there’s more density in the guitar and bass, and the immediacy of “Hyde” speaks of more urgent influences at work. That said, the nodding chill-and-chug of “Moya” is heavy whatever landscape you want to say birthed it, and with the movement into and out of psychedelic vibes, the land is something you’re just as likely to leave behind anyway. Hit me as a surprise. Don’t be shocked if you end up going back to check out the first record after.
Released through emergent Texas-based imprint Gravitoyd Heavy Music, Stone Nomads‘ Fields of Doom comprises six songs, five originals, and is accordingly somewhere between a debut full-length and an EP at half an hour long. The cover is a take on Saint Vitus‘ “Dragon Time,” and it rests well here as the closer behind the prior-released single “Soul Stealer,” as bassist Jude Sisk and guitarist Jon Cosky trade lead vocal duties while Dwayne Crosby furthers the underlying metallic impression on drums, pushing some double-kick gallop under the solo of “Fiery Sabbath” early on after the leadoff title-track lumbers and chugs and bell-tolls to its ending, heavy enough for heavy heads, aggro enough to suit your sneer, with maybe a bit of Type O Negative influence in the vocal. Huffing oldschool gasoline, Fields of Doom might prove too burled-out for some listeners, but the interlude “Winds of Barren Lands” and the vocal swaps mean that you’re never quite sure where they’re going to hit you next, even if you know the hit is coming, and even as “Soul Stealer” goes grandiose before giving way to the already-noted Vitus cover. And if you’re wondering, they nail the noise of the solo in that song, leaving no doubt that they know what they’re doing, with their own material or otherwise.
Drawing from various corners of punk, noise rock and heavy rock’s accessibility, Munich trio Blind Mess offer their third full-length in After the Storm, which is aptly-enough titled, considering. “Fight Fire with Fire” isn’t a cover, but the closing “What’s the Matter Man?” is, of Rollins Band, no less, and they arrive there after careening though a swath of tunes like “Twilight Zone,” “At the Gates” and “Save a Bullet,” which are as likely to be hardcore-born shove or desert-riffed melody, and in the last of those listed there, a little bit of both. To make matters more complicated, “Killing My Idols” leans into classic metal in its underlying riff as the vocals bark and its swing is heavy ’70s through and through. This aesthetic amalgam holds together in the toughguy march of “Sirens” as much as the garage-QOTSA rush of “Left to Do” and the dares-to-thrash finish of “Fight Fire with Fire” since the songs themselves are well composed and at 38 minutes they’re in no danger of overstaying their welcome. And when they get there, “What’s the Matter Man?” makes a friendly-ish-but-still-confrontational complemement to “Left to Do” back at the outset, as though to remind us that wherever they’ve gone over the course of the album between, it’s all been about rock and roll the whole time. So be it.
