Posted in Whathaveyou on November 7th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
It’s been four years, will have been five, since Vienna sludgers Tarlung — also stylized with a capital ‘l’: TarLung — released their 2021 third album, Architect (review here), by the time the follow-up, titled Axis Mundi, is out. The Jan. 30 release will be the trio’s first through Argonauta Records — see also Breath, Solar Sons, Lorquin’s Admiral, Stone Machine Electric, Dune Aurora and others this year alone — and to mark the announcement of the signing and the LP to come, they’re streaming the new single “Static Noise” now. Why yes, it is very, very heavy. However did you know?
Feel free to mull over the following notice from the PR wire while I take a second to admire your cleverness:
Austrian Sludge Doomsters TARLUNG Sign with Argonauta Records; New Single Out Now
Austrian sludge doom masters TARLUNG sign with Italian powerhouse Argonauta Records for the release of their upcoming full-length “Axis Mundi”, set to arrive on January 30, 2026 on vinyl, CD and digital formats. Active since 2013, TARLUNG have carved their name deep into the European underground with a colossal, low-tuned sound that blends crushing heaviness and bleak atmospheres. Partnering with Argonauta marks a new and exciting chapter for the Vienna-based trio, pushing their sonic intensity even further.
The new album Axis Mundi was recorded once again at DeepDeepPressure Studios and features artwork by Alex Eckman-Lawn. Following their acclaimed releases Beyond the Black Pyramid (Black Bow Records) and Architect (2021), Axis Mundi captures TARLUNG at their most punishing and immersive yet.
To celebrate the signing, the band reveals the first single “Static Noise” https://song.link/tarlung_sn.
“Do you hear? Hear it all? A new noise emerges. ‘Static Noise’ is the first single from our upcoming album ‘Axis Mundi’. We are thrilled to present the latest version of TARLUNG, harder and more brutal than ever.”
Over the years, TARLUNG have shared stages with EyeHateGod, Conan, Suma and Saturnalia Temple, touring across Austria, Germany, Poland, Czechia, Hungary and Slovenia, and appearing at festivals including Doom Over Vienna and Stoner Doom Festival Katowice.
For fans of EyeHateGod, Crowbar, Weedeater, Iron Monkey, Dopethrone, Thou and Grime, Axis Mundi delivers an unrelenting dose of sludge-infused doom that demands to be felt as much as heard.
TARLUNG are: Rotten – guitars Philipp Seiler – guitars & vocals Marian Waibl – drums
Tomorrow, Friday, Aug. 15, marks the release date of Witchrider‘s new EP, Metamorph, on Fuzzorama Records. The Austrian heavy rockers are following up their 2020 sophomore full-length, Electrical Storm (review here), and bring six tracks across 23 minutes that, although the PR wire info immediately notes the move into a rawer presentation than the LP boasted, remain crisp and professional to be sure. “Used to Be a King” opens with a modern pulse underlying tones that complement the airy vocal melody, and the subsequent “Sound of the Presidents” pulls back on the tempo to make that groove feel broader, so if they’re talking ‘raw,’ it’s not lo-fi garage indie or recorded-onto-a-phone-from-a-room-mic fare. It still sounds sharper than half the records on your top 10.
Some of that feels like an inheritance from Queens of the Stone Age, who’ve been an element in Witchrider‘s sound all along — their debut, Unmountable Stairs, came out in 2014 — but an engagement with pop melody is a distinguishing factor, and the sense of scope brought to “Hold My Mind,” the spaciousness in the crash and sprawl, is their own. One is reminded of big-swing heavy rockers like Sundrifter, and as the initial shimmy of “Safe to Say” — a mellow roll that’s feeling good, if with some underlying emotional complexity — builds to its crescendo wash, the mix is engagingly three-dimensional. The song is three and a half minutes long, so we’re not talking the kind of thing that’s going to eat your entire afternoon, but they give a sense of dynamic just the same, and that continues as “Wake Me Up” digs further into electronics and perhaps inadvertently imagines a heavy rock Stabbing Westward. That may or may not be something you needed in your life, and you may or may not have known it.
The underlying bluesy sensibility of the songs and Mathew Bethancourt-esque vocal melodies come to fruition on the acoustic-based closer “Alive,” with backing shaker and a loose vibe like something out of one of the first couple The Kings of Frog Island LPs. With chains and handclaps and such produced-and-arranged hullabaloo, it reaffirms the notion that just because Witchrider are aiming for a more direct impact doesn’t mean they’re giving up on craft or creative progression. This is good news as regards these songs as well as, obviously, whatever they might do next, and if Metamorph — as if to say “change is in the air” — is indicative of a path they’re intending to walk in terms of sound, they approach it with artistic clarity and room to grow in kind. It’s not every band who, 13 years on from getting together, mark out a divergence in their own evolution. Anybody taking on Metamorph who’s dug into Witchrider before will find them consistent in terms of their foundation in songwriting, and if they’re new to you, well, they kind of sound new to themselves too, so that works out nicely.
Witchrider‘s Metamorph EP streams in full. It’s out tomorrow on Fuzzorama. Hit up that PR wire info in blue for more info:
Breaking away from the more polished tones of their previous release Electrical Storm, METAMORPH leans into a rawer, more unfiltered sound. As frontman Dan explains, “It took several attempts and studio setups to capture the direct, raw power of the drums and blend them with our heavy guitars to build the wall of sound we had in mind.”
Formed in 2012, WITCHRIDER have built a reputation as a must-see live act. Their explosive performances and gritty vocals have drawn comparisons to early Queens of the Stone Age and Foo Fighters — and with good reason. The band’s chemistry on stage is undeniable, their sound unapologetically loud and emotionally charged.
After making waves with their song Bad Boy featured in the final season of the US hit series Shameless, WITCHRIDER is once again proving why they’re one of Europe’s most exciting names in underground rock. With METAMORPH, they’re not just back — they’re reborn.
METAMORPH tracklisting: 1. Used to be a King 2. Sound of the Presidents 3. Hold My Mind 4. Safe to Say 5. Wake Me Up 6. Alive
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 17th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Six tracks, six different impressions on Witchrider‘s upcoming EP, Metamorph. From post-QOTSA clean desert-heavy verring into psychedelia to the meaner push of “Wake Me Up” ahead of the acoustic-led finisher “Alive,” the Graz, Austria, rockers find their angles and melodies to convey a sense of craft while making it all sound natural like they just showed up at the rehearsal spot and the songs were there waiting for them.
It’s been five years since the four-piece issued their last album, Electrical Storm (review here), and while there’s no streaming audio from Metamorph as yet, I’m currently booked to stream the EP in full with a review on Aug. 14, so if you want to hear it, come back the day before the release and it’ll be here waiting. Of course, if you want to return to the site anytime between now and then, you’re certainly welcome to do that as well.
From the PR wire:
Get Ready to Ride the Fuzz – WITCHRIDER Unleash Their Boldest Sound Yet with METAMORPH
Mark your calendars for August 15th – Austrian stoner rock powerhouse WITCHRIDER is back with a vengeance. Their new 6-track EP, METAMORPH, is a high-octane evolution of the band’s signature style: heavy, fuzz-laden riffs paired with brooding, catchy melodies and emotionally raw lyrics. It’s a sonic journey through personal struggles and visceral moods, all delivered with unmistakable intensity.
Breaking away from the more polished tones of their previous release Electrical Storm, METAMORPH leans into a rawer, more unfiltered sound. As frontman Dan explains, “It took several attempts and studio setups to capture the direct, raw power of the drums and blend them with our heavy guitars to build the wall of sound we had in mind.”
Formed in 2012, WITCHRIDER have built a reputation as a must-see live act. Their explosive performances and gritty vocals have drawn comparisons to early Queens of the Stone Age and Foo Fighters — and with good reason. The band’s chemistry on stage is undeniable, their sound unapologetically loud and emotionally charged.
After making waves with their song Bad Boy featured in the final season of the US hit series Shameless, WITCHRIDER is once again proving why they’re one of Europe’s most exciting names in underground rock. With METAMORPH, they’re not just back — they’re reborn.
METAMORPH tracklisting: 1. Used to be a King 2. Sound of the Presidents 3. Hold My Mind 4. Safe to Say 5. Wake me Up 6. Alive
Austrian heavy rockers Grey Czar released their third album, Euarthropodia, last month through Octopus Rising/Argonauta Records. Running nine tightly-composed songs and 38-minutes, it’s a versatile collection themed around the well-earned fall of homo sapiens and the ascent of a new insectoid primacy. Then you get into “Ballad of Propellerheads” and “Queens of the New World” and there’s more going on than that, but suffice it to say: people out, bugs in. It’s like exactly what happened with the bees in my dining room when I went on vacation last summer. They had an entire civilization going.
But whatever it’s about, the record moves. Each track is somewhere between a little under four and a little under five minutes long — this is roughly consistent with their prior two LPs, though their second, 2018’s Boondoggle, ranged a bit around that — and the Salzburg four-piece revel in the ability to execute different moods and ideas around structural shifts. “Eschaton” starts off with reminding of earlier Kadavar in its roll and proto-metallic urging, while introducing the pointedly garage-y guitar tone, a thinner fuzz than one is used to — that sounds like a criticism; it isn’t; it sounds cool, just different than the heavy rock norm — that the band will build around. In a welcoming hook, they purposefully lay out what they want to do and how they’ll do it, and you’ll never guess what happens next but yes then they go ahead and do the thing.
“Withered World” is an immediate shift in atmosphere after the finish of the sweeping opener, but still resolves in a heavy-enough push to carry momentum into the piano-inclusive start of “Insects Took Over” (video premiere below). Like “Withered World,” “Insects Took Over” takes a minute or so to get going, but it boogies once it’s there, with a modern-sounding take on Heavy ’10s nod that gives over to “Trooping for Euarthropodia,” where things continue to get weirder. At 4:51, “Trooping for Euarthropodia” is one of the longest songs, and it’s inarguably progressive in how it’s built up around the central chug and flow into the chorus, Spidergawd-esque or maybe that’s a Motorpsycho influence, but it’s catchy either way and moves through its big finish into the quieter start of “Ballad of Propellerheads,” a harmony-over-strum centerpiece that becomes a fuller-buzz-toned push and winding proggy twists.
Wolfgang Brunauer‘s bass holds it together, but Grey Czar — with drummer Wolfgang Ruppitsch (also other percussion), vocalist/guitarist Roland Hickmann and keyboardist/vocalist Florian Primavesi — have already proven by the time the album’s halfway over that there’s no real danger of derailing. Like the guitar tone, the songwriting is sharp throughout Euarthropodia, and that aids the transition in vibe as “Queens of the New World” injects ’80s keyboard-inclusive metal vibes — think Ozzy circa ’83, plus buzz and some more of that Kadavarian roll — breaking into oddball nuance in the solo, suitably circus-like and otherworldly, nigh on theatrical.
The acoustic beginning of “Nutritional Protocol” brings Sweden’s Asteroid to mind, which is an impression bolstered by the vocal melody, but the sense of something strange remains, held over from “Queens of the New World,” so while the plucked strings tap almost wistful emotionality, the fluid riffing that ensues, breaks for the verse, and resumes, there’s still the story being told and a suitable instrumental backdrop for it. The grounded chorus finishes out before “Arthrobotic Liberty” brings electric organ forward to complement the shuffle in the guitar, bass and drums, threatening to rest in the midsection ultimately not giving up the energetic charge as it comes out of its solo into the last crashout ahead of the closing cut “Aeon.”
For the scope of the plot they’re conveying, Grey Czar don’t do much throughout Euarthropodia that one would really call self-indulgent on a musical level. Their parts aren’t held down by needless flourish, and though they can give a feeling of expanse when they want to, they’re always doing so in service to the song itself and its place in the succession of the whole. That applies to “Aeon” as well, but I’d be surprised if the last cut on the record wasn’t put together specifically to be the closer. It brings keyboards to the forefront to add more drama and once again finds movement and noteworthy melody in the proceedings. They finish with a bit of shove but never ‘break character’ in terms of the character of the album itself and the methods employed, and that cohesion makes Euarthropodia‘s world all the more vivid.
And after all that? The video premiere. You’ll find the clip, which was directed by Brunauer, in the embed below, followed by some words from the band about it, some PR wire background, the audio for the album (again, it’s out, so have at it), and the lyric video for “Withered World,” in case you’d like to search out the easter egg noted in the band quote.
As always, I hope you enjoy.
Grey Czar, “Insects Took Over” video premiere
Grey Czar on “Insects Took Over”:
“Insects Took Over” is the third track on our new album Euarthropodia. It describes the uprising new species, soundscapes of myriads of creatures forming shifting landscapes and floating clouds, leaving the fallen world in fear and faint. On the album we tried to sketch this horror scenario in a concrete way but open it up to give space for interpretation and a critical view on us human beings and our ruthlessness in relation to our base of needs and environment.
The video takes on this main idea and shows the transformed beings got stuck in the same patterns. The idea for the screenplay is leaned to David Lynches “The Rabbits” and sets a counterpart to the serious and heavy approach of the music, in a slightly humoristic way. We all are existing, each and everyone of us in his surrounding, doing things. Like cutting a cucumber, hoovering, caressing the tablet, watching TV … essential things.
Our bassist Wolfgang shot the film, and he build the “Living room scene” in his garage, got all the props, like the couch, the carpet floor, the lamps and self-designed wallpaper and we shot the scene in a one take. After that we transferred the whole setting to our rehearsal room for the performance video part and Wolfi assembled the video. We also placed an easter egg, for those who watched our lyrics video for “Withered World”.
Hailing from Salzburg, Austria, GREY CZAR is a four-piece heavy rock outfit featuring two guitars, keys, bass, drums and up to three vocals. Their music is melodic and riff-driven, oscillating between heavier and mellow sounds, while having a flair for progressive elements.
The band was founded in 2010 when its four members came together to share their mutual passion for music. Taken by the idea to play stoner rock the band quickly discovered new grounds and as the group’s personalities evolved so did the music, which continues its natural development.
Since their self-titled debut LP in 2012, GREY CZAR has released an EP „The Men Who Harvest the Sea” in 2014, and their session-recorded sophomore long player „Boondoggle“ in 2018, which was well received in the scene.
Grey Czar are: Roland Hickmann – vocals/guitar/percussion Florian Primavesi – vocals/guitar/keys Wolfgang Brunauer – vocals/bass Wolfgang Ruppitsch – drums/percussion
Posted in Reviews on December 12th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Day four of five for this snuck-in-before-the-end-of-the-year Quarterly Review, and I’m left wondering if maybe it won’t be worth booking another week for January or early February, and if that happens, is it still “quarterly” at that point if you do it like six times a year? ‘Bimonthly Quality Control Assessments’ coming soon! Alert your HR supervisors to tell your servers of any allergies.
No, not really.
I’ll figure out a way to sandwich more music into this site if it kills me. Which I guess it might. Whatever, let’s do this thing.
Quarterly Review #31-40
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Sergeant Thunderhoof, The Ghost of Badon Hill
A marked accomplishment in progressive heavy rock, The Ghost of Badon Hill is the fifth full-length from UK five-piece Sergeant Thunderhoof, who even without the element of surprise on their side — which is to say one is right to approach the 45-minute six-tracker with high expectations based on the band’s past work; their last LP was 2022’s This Sceptred Veil(review here) — rally around a folklore-born concept and deliver the to-date album of their career. From the first emergence of heft in “Badon” topped with Daniel Flitcroft soar-prone vocals, Sergeant Thunderhoof — guitarists Mark Sayer and Josh Gallop, bassist Jim Camp and drummer Darren Ashman, and the aforementioned Flitcroft — confidently execute their vision of a melodic riffprog scope. The songs have nuance and character, the narrative feels like it moves through the material, there are memorable hooks and grand atmospheric passages. It is by its very nature not without some indulgent aspects, but also a near-perfect incarnation of what one might ask it to be.
The stated objective of Swallow the Sun‘s Shining was for less misery, and fair enough as the Finnish death-doomers have been at it for about a quarter of a century now and that’s a long time to feel so resoundingly wretched, however relatably one does it. What does less-misery sound like? First of all, still kinda miserable. If you know Swallow the Sun, they are still definitely recognizable in pieces like “Innocence Was Long Forgotten,” “What I Have Become” and “MelancHoly,” but even the frontloading of these singles — don’t worry, from “Kold” and the ultra Type O Negative-style “November Dust” (get it?), to the combination of floating, dancing keyboard lines and drawn out guitars in the final reaches of the title-track, they’re not short on highlights — conveys the modernity brought into focus. Produced by Dan Lancaster (Bring Me the Horizon, A Day to Remember, Muse), the songs are in conversation with the current sphere of metal in a way that Swallow the Sun have never been, broadening the definition of what they do while retaining a focus on craft. They’re professionals.
Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships, The Mind Like Fire Unbound
Where’s the intermittently-crushing sci-fi-concept death-stoner, you ask? Well, friend, Lincoln, Nebraska’s Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships would like to have a word, and on The Mind Like Fire Unbound, there’s a non-zero chance that word will come in the form of layered death metal growls and rasping throatripper screams representing an insectoid species about to tear more-melodically-voiced human colonizers to pieces. The 45-minute LP’s 14-minute opener “BUGS” that lays out this warning is followed by the harsh, cosmic-paranoia conjuration of “Dark Forest” before a pivot in 8:42 centerpiece “Infinite Inertia” — and yes, the structure of the tracks is purposeful; longest at the open and close with shorter pieces on either side of “Infinite Inertia” — takes the emotive cast of Pallbearer to an extrapolated psychedelic metalgaze, huge and broad and lumbering. Of course the contrast is swift in the two-minute “I Hate Space,” but where one expects more bludgeonry, the shortest inclusion stays clean vocally amid its uptempo, Torche-but-not-really push. Organ joins the march in the closing title-track (14:57), which gallops following its extended intro, doom-crashes to a crawl and returns to double-kick behind the encompassing last solo, rounding out with suitable showcase of breadth and intention.
Planet of Zeus make a striking return with their sixth album, Afterlife, basing their theme around mythologies current and past and accompanying that with a sound that’s both less brash than they were a few years back on 2019’s Faith in Physics (review here) and refined in the sharpness and efficiency of its songwriting. It’s a rocker, which is what one has come to expect from these Athens-based veterans. Afterlife builds momentum through desert-style rockers like “Baptized in His Death” and the hooky “No Ordinary Life” and “The Song You Misunderstand,” getting poppish in the stomp of “Bad Milk” only after the bluesy “Let’s Call it Even” and before the punkier “Letter to a Newborn,” going where it wants and leaving no mystery as to how it’s getting there because it doesn’t need to. One of the foremost Greek outfits of their generation, Planet of Zeus show up, tell you what they’re going to do, then do it and get out, still managing to leave behind some atmospheric resonance in “State of Non-Existence.” There’s audible, continued forward growth and kickass tunes. If that sounds pretty ideal, it is.
Cinematic in its portrayal, Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet positions itself as cosmically minded, and manifests that in sometimes-minimal — effectively so, since it’s hypnotic — aural spaciousness, but Paris’ Human Teorema veer into Eastern-influenced scales amid their exploratory, otherworldly-on-purpose landscaping, and each planet on which they touch down, from “Onirico” (7:43) to “Studiis” (15:54) and “Spedizione” (23:20) is weirder than the last, shifting between these vast passages and jammier stretches still laced with synth. Each piece has its own procession and dynamic, and perhaps the shifts in intent are most prevalent within “Studiis,” but the closer is, on the balance, a banger as well, and there’s no interruption in flow once you’ve made the initial choice to go with Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet. An instrumental approach allows Human Teorema to embody descriptive impressions that words couldn’t create, and when they decide to hit it hard, they’re heavy enough for the scale they’ve set. Won’t resonate universally (what does?), but worth meeting on its level.
There are two epics north of the 10-minute mark on Caged Wolves‘ maybe-debut LP, A Deserts Tale: “Lost in the Desert” (11:26) right after the intro “Dusk” and “Chaac” (10:46) right before the hopeful outro “Dawn.” The album runs a densely-packed 48 minutes through eight tracks total, and pieces like the distortion-drone-backed “Call of the Void,” the alt-prog rocking “Eleutheromania,” “Laguna,” which is like earlier Radiohead in that it goes somewhere on a linear build, and the spoken-word-over-noise interlude “The Lost Tale” aren’t exactly wanting for proportion, regardless of runtime. The bassline that opens “Call of the Void” alone would be enough to scatter orcs, but that still pales next to “Chaac,” which pushes further and deeper, topping with atmospheric screams and managing nonetheless to come out of the other side of that harsh payoff of some of the album’s most weighted slog in order to bookend and give the song the finish it deserves, completing it where many wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. This impression is writ large throughout and stands among the clearest cases for A Deserts Tale as the beginning of a longer-term development.
I find myself wanting to talk about how big Liminal Escapism sounds, but I don’t mean in terms of tonal proportion so much as the distances that seem to be encompassed by Greek progressive instrumentalists Anomalos Kosmos. With an influence from Grails and, let’s say, 50 years’ worth of prog rock composition (but definitely honoring the earlier end of that timeline), Anomalos Kosmos offer emotional evocation in pieces that feel compact on either side of six or seven minutes, taking the root jams and building them into structures that still come across as a journey. The classy soloing in “Me Orizeis” and synthy shimmer of “Parapatao,” the rumble beneath the crescendo of “Kitonas” and all of that gosh darn flow in “Flow” speak to a songwriting process that is aware of its audience but feels no need to talk down, musically speaking, to feed notions of accessibility. Instead, the immersion and energetic drumming of “Teledos” and the way closer “Cigu” rallies around pastoral fuzz invite the listener to come along on this apparently lightspeed voyage — thankfully not tempo-wise — and allow room for the person hearing these sounds to cast their own interpretations thereof.
One could not hope to fully encapsulate an impression here of nearly three and a half hours of sometimes-improv psych-drone, and I refuse to feel bad for not trying. Instead, I’ll tell you that Grand Fractal Orchestra — the Psychedelic Source Records 3CD edition of which has already sold out — finds Budapest-based guitarist Ákos Karancz deeply engaged in the unfolding sounds here. Layering effects, collaborating with others from the informal PSR collective like zitherist Márton Havlik or singer Krisztina Benus, and so on, Karancz constructs each piece in a way that feels both steered in a direction and organic to where the music wants to go. “Ore Genesis” gets a little frantic around the middle but finds its chill, “Human Habitat” is duly foreboding, and the two-part, 49-minute-total capper “Transforming Time to Space” is beautiful and meditative, like staring at a fountain with your ears. It goes without saying not everybody has the time or the attention span to sit with a release like this, but if you take it one track at a time for the next four years or so, there’s worlds enough in these songs that they’ll probably just keep sinking in. And if Karancz puts outs like five new albums in that time too, so much the better.
It probably goes without saying — at least it should — that while the classic folk fingerplucking of “Whispering Waters” and the Americana-busy “Laurel Creek Blues” give a sweet introduction to Blake Hornsby‘s A Village of Many Springs, inevitably it’s the 23-minute experimentalist spread of the finale, “Bury My Soul in the Linville River,” that’s going to be a focal point for many listeners, and fair enough. The earthbound-cosmic feel of that piece, its devolution into Lennon-circa-1968 tape noise and concluding drone, aren’t at all without preface. A Village of Many Springs gets weirder as it goes, with the eight-minute “Cathedral Falls” building over its time into a payoff of seemingly on-guitar violence, and the subsequent “O How the Water Flows” nestling into a sweet spot between Appalachian nostalgia and foreboding twang. There’s percussion and manipulation of noise later, too, but even in its repetition, “O How the Water Flows” continues Hornsby‘s trajectory. For what’s apparently an ode to water in the region surrounding Hornsby‘s home in Asheville, North Carolina, that it feels fluid should be no surprise, but by no means does one need to have visited Laurel Creek to appreciate the blues Hornsby conjures for them.
With a sensibility in some of the synth of “Hacamat” born of space rock, Congulus have no trouble moving from that to the 1990s-style alt-rock saunter of “Diri Bir Nefes,” furthering the momentum already on the Istanbul-based instrumentalist trio’s side after opener “İskeletin Düğün Halayı” before “Senin Sırlarının Yenilmez Gücünü Gördüm” spaces out its solo over scales out of Turkish folk and “Park” marries together the divergent chugs of Judas Priest and Meshuggah, there’s plenty of adventure to be had on Göçebe. It’s the band’s second full-length behind 2019’s Bozkır — they’ve had short releases between — and it moves from “Park” into the push of “Zarzaram” and “Vordonisi” with efficiency that’s only deceptive because there’s so much stylistic range, letting “Ulak” have its open sway and still bash away for a moment or two before “Sonunda Ah Çekeriz Derinden” closes by tying space rock, Mediterranean traditionalism and modern boogie together in one last jam before consigning the listener back to the harsher, decidedly less utopian vibes of reality.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on November 1st, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Embroiled in an outbound interstellar thrust from pretty much the not-literally-said word ‘go’ on “Palim Palim,” Speck‘s debut album, Unkraut, takes a linear trajectory as it reels unbounded through the universe, undulating and careening as it goes. It’s not all raucous come-with-us antigrav thrust from the Vienna, Austria, three-piece, who released Unkraut on their own in 2021 and followed up with an issue through Tonzonen in 2022, but Patrick Säuerl‘s drums enact a vitality on “Palim Palim,” not quite the neo-space metal of Slift or King Gizzard or whichever big modern psych act you want to name, and more rooted in the European heavy underground of the last 20-plus years, with bassist Lisa Winkelmüller doing fretruns around the intermittent solo divergences of guitarist Marcel Cultrera — aware of and willing to be adjacent to heavy psychedelia as a genre — but as they hit the brakes going into the brief comedown “II” after “Palim Palim,” a grand mellowing that picks up in tempo around the guitar in jammy style before the halfway point and builds up from there to a noisy crescendo and is brought down again, the movement is no less fluid.
Ebbs and flows should be nothing new to those with any familiarity to instrumental heavy music, but as they seem to be making efforts to distinguish their approach from the history and methods of krautrock — at least that’s what I get from Unkraut as a title; if that interpretation is off, I’d love to be gently informed in a comment — what’s letting them do that most of all is the showcase of raw chemistry in the sound of the 37-minute outing’s five component tracks. It’s a difficult niche to pin down, as the likes of Hawkwind, Colour Haze, Earthless or Sula Bassana (with whom Cultrera now collaborates in Minerall) could be cited as influences depending on a given moment, whether it’s the space rock call to prayer in the strum of the centerpiece title-track or the subsequent “Firmament,” which is no less expansive in reach but is much quieter as it goes about its exploratory business. That pair, “Unkraut” and “Firmament,” echo the dynamic between “Palim Palim” and “II,” in being a more active piece followed by something comparatively less of a push, but as “Unkraut” caps its blowout finish — an apex for the album that closer “Megachonk ∞” answers by riding a full-go groove for most of its eight minutes — and “Firmament” sets itself to answering back, the line they draw from one side to the other of their sound is longer and the music accordingly broader in scope.
To wit, where “II” is the shortest inclusion at 4:50 and tied to a build structure despite being executed organically enough that if you told me it was an unplotted jam and the band had no idea where they were headed when they picked up their instruments and hit record, it would be believable. I don’t know that that is or isn’t the case, but the way “Firmament” — which like the rest of the songs is just a little over eight minutes long — delves deeper into subdued, meditative psychedelics, it doesn’t have that payoff. After “Unkraut,” “Firmament” subtly hypnotizes almost before the listener understands what has happened; its quiet outset emerges smoothly from the comedown of the title-track and reroutes from the expected path of another ‘heavier’ stretch by simply doing something else. Crazy, right? I know, but it works all the more because it puts “Megachonk ∞,” which even seems to have a little bit of vocals snuck into its procession, where that payoff might otherwise be. To (hopefully) make it clear: “Firmament” ends up complementing the song after it as much as the song before it precisely because it doesn’t lose the plot. If one thinks of “Palim Palim” and “II” as a kind of encapsulated demonstration for the movement across “Unkraut,” “Firmament” and “Megachonk ∞,” it’s kind of like that in listening, but that doesn’t account for “Unkraut” being on side A of the vinyl edition.
Neither does it invalidate the impression, especially for those taking Unkraut on digitally, say, via the stream above. This hill-before-a-mountain character suits the fluidity of Speck‘s material overall, and the nuance they bring to it in the rhythmic warmth and the sense of purpose that emerges from the changes and how they’re made give the album an individual persona within a well-established style. By the time they’re two or three minutes into “Megachonk ∞,” they’ve made their intention pretty clear in carrying forward a shove to the finish. There’s a momentary break for some far-off echoing semi-spoken vocals, almost egging the instruments on, or maybe the listener, some grunts in there, but the instrumental kickback is quick to arrive and sweeps to the wammy-inclusive screaming peak of “”Megachonk ∞” that gives over when it’s good and ready to the residual noise that provides a satisfying wash at the end. The sense that the band could just keep going is palpable, but that they don’t, that they keep it relatively brief and in prime LP length, demonstrates a control and restraint on their sound that only further speaks to the purposefulness behind what Unkraut does.
Did it reinvent krautrock? I wouldn’t be the one to ask, but it is decidedly other from it while touching on its methods and modus. But the relatively straightforward arrangements — there are plenty of effects throughout but so far as I know Speck don’t delve into the world of keyboards let alone vintage-worship or anything like that — keep a human cure in these songs, and that grounds them as well, as much as they’re grounded at all. Speck have continued to progress along these lines over the last couple years, in their 2023 split with Interkosmos (review here), second full-length, Eine Gute Reise, and participation in earlier-2024’s International Space Station Vol. 2 (review here) four-way split at the behest of Worst Bassist Records, and nothing they’ve done to this point has shown any signs of their growth slowing. Amid a generational turnover in the heavy underground, Speck‘s Unkraut presents a fresh perspective and, crucially, an immersive plunge for the listener to take. To close, I’ll note that I didn’t fully appreciate how much Speck had to offer until I saw them live at this past summer’s Freak Valley Festival (review here), of which their set was an absolute highlight. A band to catch if you can make it happen.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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Hey, it’s the first Friday Full-Length in, what, four weeks? Turns out I still do this. I had to wonder for a minute if I’d ever get it back on track. Last Friday was my daughter’s birthday, as I noted last weekend, and the two Fridays prior were in an ongoing Quarterly Review, so yeah, I guess this would’ve been four weeks without one if I let it slip. Rest assured this brought about an existential crisis. Who even am I if I don’t spend my Friday morning clacking away on the laptop keyboard about some record I probably should’ve written up years ago? Fortunately that’s not a question I’ll need to answer this week.
Last night was Halloween. Holy smokes. First we had the Halloween parade at The Pecan’s school. For that one, she wore the black hole costume her grandmother made — black shirt and pants, with a hula hoop covered in fiery-looking fabric she could wear around her for an accretion disk — and of course that won the prize for the best costume in her grade. The Patient Mrs. and I ended up being dragged into a video the principal of the school made — it’ll come in an email, if I can link it here I will; no doubt it will be hilarious — before the parade actually even happened. Then all the classes came out and did the parade around the blacktop behind the school while the corresponding adults made fools of ourselves gaggling at the children. So it goes. The good news is it was 80 degrees and sunny. The bad news is that means the world is ending.
Then we got home. Costume change from black hole to Link from Breath of the Wild — blue tunic — for The Pecan. She saw a kid last weekend at the neighborhood Halloween parade — parents have invented ways to use a costume more than once in the time since I was a kid; it is strange and I’m pretty sure my daughter’s generation will decide it’s not worth it — dressed as Link with a Master Sword and shield and just about lost her mind. Couldn’t take her eyes off it. We ended up driving last Saturday afternoon to Edgewater, NJ, like 50 minutes, to a Party City to buy the sword and shield, and The Patient Mrs. was able to secure a costume, plus acceptable boots, from the internet in time for the day itself.
The plan was to go with a group of her friends from Girl Scouts who live in the neighborhood — there are like six or seven of them — and we’d end up doing that, but a friend of The Patient Mrs.’ was coming along for the hell of it and when she got to the house, the dog got out. So here I go sprinting down the road — thankfully not out to 202, which is like 100 feet the other way and as a four-lane road would be certain death for the dog — calling “Tilly come!” at the top of my panicked lungs. Again. Electric fences cost thousands of dollars, I’m sorry. A neighbor came out of her house. The dog had stopped her own sprint at the edge of this woman’s property and Tilly loves people so much that all the lady had to do was say, “Hello puppy!” and Tilly ran over to meet her. Tilly had seemed like she had enough at that point — it’s just not letting her get out of sight and get lost in the interim; also not letting her get runover — anyway and took the bellyrubs while waiting for me to hobble over and get her. I was glad I did. We do our best not to keep the door open, but the dog is wiggly and dumb and surprisingly fast for being a mix of two lap breeds; shih-tzu and bichon friese. She’s 16 months old now.
Then we had to go trick-or-treating, meeting up with the Girl Scout group up the hill. The roads were busier with cars than one might’ve expected, but it was ultimately fine. Some of the parents brought shots and whatever in their water bottles, The Patient Mrs. had a couple drinks in hers; I ate a gummy before we went out and was well stoned by the time it got dark. The Pecan got tired around 7:30 and was flailing in the road as cars passed by — you should’ve seen the moms diving after her; noble in their intentions, but the more you drag The Pecan one way, the more she’ll push back into the middle of the street; keep a respectful distance and offer verbal reminders if you want to exert even limited control the situation, which you probably don’t actually need to do because even out-of-control-tired Pecan knows where she belongs and will get there, whatever heart attacks she provides along the way; “I got it,” I said as I followed her on a jaunt further down the road ahead of the group near the end of the night, and sure enough, I had it; check the perimeter and direction of momentum in any situation — so we turned around and headed back to the car with her fine selection of candy in the traditional Halloween bucket that holds fidgets the rest of the year. She came home, had a Tootsie Roll or two and was ready for a slice of pizza and bed. She kept the costume on while she watched Zelda fan theories on YouTube, and nobody was up late. It was a lot going with the group, but I’m glad the kid has friends — she’s definitely the weird one, and I expect she’ll continue to be — and she got to spend time with them doing fun, not-school-related stuff.
We had our parent-teacher conference this week, for which I was pointedly not stoned. She’s killing it in first grade, her teacher loves her, and she’s a joy to have in class. Considering where we were a year ago at this time, I feel justified in the tears of joy I shed. She’s an amazing kid — right now she’s got the Master Sword and is dancing from couch to couch; I was a blacksmith and tempered the sword; neither The Patient Mrs. nor I are particularly thrilled about introducing weapons-play to the house — and beginning to see the world around her in ways that she previously couldn’t. I have no idea what the next year will bring and wouldn’t embarrass myself by trying to predict. My experience of parenting has been a rollercoaster with the lowest lows and some of the highest highs I’ve ever had. I expect we’ll keep busy, one way or the other.
I could go on here, but this post is long enough, and if you’re still reading, thanks. Kid’s got off from school today for the Hindu holiday Diwali — the town we live in is a big South Asian enclave; it is a strength of the community and the food is amazing — and she had half-days most of this week for conferences, so I expect Monday will be something of a harsh return to reality, but we’ve got the weekend first and that’ll be plenty. Whatever you’re up to, I hope you have a great time and stay safe. Thanks again for reading, don’t forget to hydrate, and I’ll see you back on Monday for more.
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 29th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Vienna post-heavy four-piece Chorosia are heading out this Fall with sludge-punker countrymen Grimms Eye for a 10-date stretch starting Oct. 3. Have you ever heard either of these bands? It doesn’t matter. That’s the whole fucking point. There’s so much out there — this planet we’re on is so small compared to the rest of everything as we know and/or imagine it, and yet the rush of living on it feels endless. I don’t care if you never heard Chorosia or you spent two weeks last summer sleeping on the couch of their rehearsal space. What matters is you’re here now, reading this. What matters is if you listen now, when you have the chance.
And no one on the internet will tell you this, but you know what? If you miss it now, you’ll probably have another chance too. I know that’s not the thing you’re supposed to do in your little internet-self-branded-fiefdom. I should be trying to activate your FOMO on everything and hyping the shit out of every riff that comes my way because if I don’t I won’t get clicks and then step one steal underpants step two… … … step three profit. Well fuck that shit. Experience life at your own pace. These shows aren’t until October. Even if you happen to live in the path of the tour, or are going to be there by some fortunate happenstance, you’ve got time. Everybody relax.
Chrosia‘s video for “Hands, Switchblades and Vile Vortices” is streaming below. I put Grimms Eye‘s 2022 LP, Throne down there as well for your perusal/enjoyment. So peruse, and enjoy at your leisure if you so choose:
Chorosia & Grimm’s Eye: Grim Vortices Tour 2024
The Vienna-based prog/sludge riff masters Chorosia and their hometown HC punk/sludge colleagues Grimm’s Eye are embarking on an EU tour this October.
Chorosia and Grimm’s Eye have just announced the Grim Vortices 2024 tour taking place in early October. Spanning from Czechia to The Netherlands, the bands will embark on a 10-day journey across the continent. Find the full date list below.
Chorosia’s highly acclaimed latest release “Stray Dogs” was published in September last year and it was praised for its unique blend of styles and genres. The band has released two albums prior, self-titled in 2018 and “A Call To Love” in 2021. As for Grimm’s Eye, the sludge-punk outlet released their second studio album “Throne” in early 2022 as the follow-up to their debut “Act!” from 2019.
Oct 3 – Brno, CZ @ Sibiř Oct 4 – Görlitz, DE @ BASTA Oct 5 – Hildesheim, DE @ Thav Oct 6 – TBD / Feel free to contact the bands Oct 7 – Utrecht, NL @ Trapop! Oct 8 – Hasselt, BE @ Nocturna Oct 9 – Belvaux, LU @ MK BAR Oct 10 – Strasbourg, FR @ Le Local Oct 11 – Munich, DE @ TBD Oct 12 – Passau, DE @ Tabakfabrik
[Click play above to stream International Space Station Vol. 2 in full. The split is out Aug. 20 on Worst Bassist, Weird Beard and Echodelick Records.]
In addition to being the most expensive thing ever built, the International Space Station is the most resounding proof ever manifest of the potential for what humanity can accomplish when we, in even momentary or compartmentalized fashion, put aside our differences and genuinely collaborate. Human potential, circling the planet above our heads every 90 minutes or so. Worst Bassist Records (Germany/EU), working in conjunction with Weird Beard Records (UK) and Echodelick Records (US), offers the second installment of its split series, International Space Station Vol. 2, both in tribute and in some of the same cooperative spirit. Like its 2022 predecessor, International Space Station Vol. 1 (review here), the assemblage features four bands, including the Americans Verstärker, from Kentucky, as well as Kombynat Robotron (from Germany), Speck (from Austria) and Sarkh (from Germany). It’s not quite the same as Europe, Russia, Canada and America spending billions of dollars to construct the ISS itself, module by module, but as one would hope, each band brings something of their own to the overarching scope of International Space Station Vol. 2, while keeping to the abiding space rock theme, in essence if not necessarily genre tropes. It’s cosmic one way or the other, to be sure.
As with Vol. 1, each band on Vol. 2 is given a side to work with to make a full 72-minute 2LP. Verstärker lead off and bring the first of the split’s delves into krautrock across “Weltraumtraum” (12:16) and “Kvant” (5:46), the latter of which is an immersive, multi-tiered drone that gradually emerges from the second half of “Weltraumtraum.” The two are likewise exploratory, if in different ways, as the first cut starts out with a more urgent gallop on drums and a bassline that keeps it cool but still moves, guitar feeling out the spaces in the swirl. A boogie takes hold until about four and a half minutes in, where the change marked by a stop of drums leads to a heavier outbound thrust. About force more than escape velocity, the next two minutes of push give over to mellower bassy jamming and guitar effects floating overhead, a little ghostly, but there. The drums keep the tension so that when “Weltraumtraum” starts to build back up it makes sense, and even after the crescendo, until just about 10 minutes in, the drums hold out amid the residual synth and guitar echoes. Once they go, it’s the sci-fi drone of “Kvant” all the way — an initial and not at all last hypnotic stretch as International Space Station Vol. 2 broadens its reach.
Kombynat Robotron bring a reset at the start of their lone inclusion “Montan” (15:31) and answer the proggy flow of Verstärker‘s longer piece with an easy movement of their own. Shimmering guitar over a krautrock groove probably shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone familiar with the band, this split series, or the style more generally, but Kombynat Robotron bring a Yawning–Man-in-space sensibility to the guitar work and subtle gotta-go of the rhythm. A crash and stop at five minutes in marks the divergence from where they’ve been to where they’re going, which is to a more actively swirling solo section, with crash cymbal adding to the build as they move further into the maybe-improvised unknown. Howls and wails circa 8:20 preface a pickup in the toms, and the Kiel trio carry their procession in willfully, increasingly noisy style across its back half, such that when it ends with a feedbackscape, it makes sense, feeling all the more vibrant and nebular in their fusing of elements. As the only band with one song here — everyone else does a long one and a short one, like Verstärker — Kombynat Robotron still use their time well to emphasize performance as well as exploration. “Montan” is duly massive as a result.
The immediate impression when Speck set forth with “Flaniergang” (16:03), with “Bes, So Bes” (4:29) following, is cleaner in tone, but it’s the urging motion of the drums that is most consuming. Accompanied by a bassline one might be tempted to call “solid” were it not so utterly liquefied, the drums mark out the path the song will take and give everybody — yes, including you — the chance to get on board before the real takeoff. That comes shortly after three minutes in as the guitar comes forward and the groove opens up with chugging interstellar build. Hints of heavy psych melodicism persist in the guitar, and that’ll do quite nicely, thank you, but Speck bring the proceedings back down for a quick refueling ahead of the next launch, which comes in short order. It’s not the last either — they sneak in a third redirect in the last two minutes that makes “Flaniergang” even more exciting, capping with feedback that leads directly into the cymbal wash of “Bes, So Bes,” a slow-rolling improv-feeling jaunt into low gravity that isn’t shapeless but which is clear in its less-rigid structure, and at this point in the split, calling something “less rigid” is really saying something.
Given the unenviable task of rounding out the final of the 2LP’s four sides, Sarkh flip the script and put the shorter song first, topping “Helios” (6:17) with a sample in its early going and sweeping in with heavier tones and some of the post-metallic expanse they’ve established as well within their reach. By the time they’re three minutes in, “Helios” is crushing and sprawling in kind, and they continue to set airy post-rock guitar against what in context sounds downright pummeling as the song churns to its purposeful ending, a stretch of low hum making the transition between “Helios” and the concluding “Cape Wrath” (11:37). Terrestrial, if not cavernous in its sound, and once again, remarkably heavy, “Cape Wrath” turns from the patterned riff that begins it, drops the drums and resets for a breath around ambient guitar, and thereby sets out on one big, last build, the payoff of which is your explanation for why Sarkh appear last on International Space Station Vol. 2 — once you go in the black hole, there’s no getting back out. It’s okay though, because as gravitational as they get, Sarkh retain enough presence and intentionality to bring “Cape Wrath” to a close with a change to sparse standalone guitar, not unlike that which set out that build to begin with.
And really, who knows where or when that was. On the cosmic-web-defined, impossible-to-comprehend-by-our-bacteria-brains scales of time and space in the universe, International Space Station and the structure that inspired the series in the first are — like everything else human beings have ever done and likely will ever do — small achievements, but they share that aspect of realized potential, and like the different sections of the ISS being assembled in orbit some 255 miles above the surface of the planet, each band’s material adds to the complexity of what’s portrayed by the whole, which is a fresh, multidimensional space rock that speaks no less to an optimistic future. The eons-long course of civilization’s history has wrought little that is more worth celebrating, and International Space Station Vol. 2 feels suitably reverent.
