Barcelona trio Maragda will release their sophomore full-length, Tyrants, on May 8 through Spinda Records. At the bottom of this post, you’ll find two versions of the title-track premiering — the album version of the song and a live-in-studio take as if to demonstrate, “yes, we really can pull this off.” And so they can. And hopefully will for much of the rest of this year on tour in Europe.
Officially, that’s the point of this post. Between you and me, sitting comfortably having a friendly chat together about the things in life that make it tolerable, I’ll tell youthat I’ve had the chance to dig into the record and that the hooky proggy cosmic modern space boogie bop of “Tyrants” is no fluke. Maragda pinpoint genre intersections and explore sounds throughout Tyrants that go beyond manifesting the potential of their 2021 self-titled debut (review here). Clear-eyed in their composition, rich in melody and atmosphere, they could hardly be doing more to signal their arrival to the heavy underground in Europe and beyond.
Preorders open tonight at midnight CET, and while I acknowledge that not every track is going to land with every listener, I urge you to take a few minutes for “Tyrants,” which opens the album, to get a glimpse at the sprawl Maragda are conjuring and the manner in which they careen through it. European tribalism has for the better part of 40 years ignored the development of Iberian heavy and progressive rock. Tyrants shows this for how ridiculous it truly is in its flourishing realization and the outreach in the production at Big Snuff Studio by the esteemed Richard Behrens (he was in Heat and Samsara Blues Experiment, has helmed records for Samavayo, Delving and Weite, Abanamat, countless others), actively working to engage the modern heavy psych sphere with all its king-this-and-thats and bouncy galaxial thrust, while also tapping into Spain’s long history of prog melody. Shit, it’s even in English (as was the first record). They could hardly do more if they offered to put your name in a song.
It is an exciting listen. It is not the most hyped album you’re going to hear in 2024, but if you do catch it — and now’s a good time to be introduced — it might just be something you come to treasure.
To wit, it’s one I feel strongly enough about that, in addition to premiering the studio and live versions of “Tyrants” at the bottom of this post, I’m slated to stream the album in full Tuesday, May 7. Keep an eye out.
Art, PR wire info and, crucially, the music, follow. Please enjoy:
MARAGDA DROPS ‘TYRANTS’ AS FIRST SINGLE OF THEIR UPCOMING SECOND STUDIO ALBUM
Maragda, the energetic power-trio from Barcelona, announces the release of their second studio album, “Tyrants”, available on May 8 via Spinda Records. The band is offering a sneak peek of the album with the release of its title track, showcasing both the studio and live versions taken from their recent live session recorded at Siete Barbas Studios.
This highly anticipated album follows their successful self-titled debut album (2021, Spinda Records) and the live EP “The Reckless / Evil Seed” (2022, Spinda Records). In this new musical journey, the band immerses listeners in introspective themes ranging from self-imposed limitations to the fight for values, love, hope, and farewells. All of this unfolds in a hypothetical fantasy universe, where psychedelia and progressive rock continuously merge, adding nuances of other styles like garage.
For the creation of the album “Tyrants”, Maragda embarked on a creative journey that took them to the Big Snuff Studios in Berlin, where they collaborated with studio engineer Richard Behrens, renowned for his work with bands like Kadavar and Elder. Subsequently, the mastering was handled by acclaimed engineer Peter Deimel (known for his work with bands like Motorpsycho) at the Black Box Studios in France, solidifying a successful collaboration that began with their debut album.
In the visual department, the band has once again partnered with Error! Design studio (known for works with Explosions In The Sky, Russian Circles, Mastodon) for the album’s graphic design, ensuring a cohesive and captivating aesthetic experience for their followers.
TRACK-LIST 1. Tyrants 2. Skirmish 3. Endless 4. My only link 5. Sunset room 6. The singing mountain 7. Godspeed 8. Loose
PRE-ORDER: 22 march 2024
RELEASE DATE 8 may 2024
‘Tyrants’ will be available on May 8 through Spinda Records, although album pre-orders will kick off at midnight on Friday, March 22nd, in both CD and vinyl formats. The vinyl edition will be part of the ‘Trippy Series’ from the Andalusian label, alongside acts such as Viaje a 800, Moura, Empty Full Space, or Moundrag. It will be limited to 400 copies on white vinyl with orange splatters and 100 copies on standard black vinyl.
LIVE SHOWS May 17 | Madrid (ES) @ Madrid Psych Sessions June 8 | Barcelona (ES) @ Sala Upload (fiesta de presentación)
Barcelona classic-progressive heavy rockers Saturna released their fifth full-length, The Reset, last month through Spinda Records and Discos Macarras. A big gallop, an immediate sense of melodic mastery, and the listener is swept into “Your Whimsical Selfishness,” an oddly phrased but welcome hook that is the initial salvo from Saturna‘s latest offering, which in its digital edition runs 14 tracks and 66 minutes with the addition of four bonus live covers to the standard 10 originals. If you’ve heard the record already, great. As well written and produced heavy rock albums will, it snagged scene attention last month; a word of mouth hype spreading through shared links in a manner that it feels strange to think of as organic, because digital reality, but is that anyway.
Brightly fuzzed and putting Toni del Amo‘s guest keys to use with the organ sounds on that opener, Saturna‘s sound brings together decades of rock and heavy influences to feed into its construction. Of course, you get a ’70s-via-’90s feel at the root that one could argue is the foundation for the modern genre, but more pointedly, “Your Whimsical Selfishness” incorporates a stretch of folkish acoustic guitar to ease the transition into “The Never Ending Star,” which also tops five minutes (three songs do, including the first two, which feels purposeful), and has some light touch of Thin Lizzy in the guitars of James Vieco (also vocals) and Alexandre Sánchez, but its verse moves into a light-strum Zeppelin build back to its gentle push of a chorus. The four-piece — Vieco, Sánchez, bassist Rod Tirado and drummer Enric Verdaguer — trade between later Sabbathian largesse and subdued liquefaction on “Smile” and build off the earlier folkishness in the harmonized acoustic cut “December’s Dust” before “Into the Sun” surges forth with admirably Spidergawdy verve. So yes, more Thin Lizzy influence.
This is the part where I tell you Saturna bring their persona to that, and frankly, five albums deep into their tenure, as well they should. But part of what they do is to be in conversation with classics — and I think including not only four bonus covers, but covers of well known songs in Black Sabbath‘s “A National Acrobat,” The Beatles‘ “Come Together” (which nothing against the band’s version but I don’t think anyone should cover, ever; Soundgarden didn’t need to do it either; it’s not a song that should be touched; take on “Oh! Darling” instead if you’re feeling brave or “Yer Blues” if you wanna go dark), The Doors‘ “Five to One” and Jimi Hendrix‘s “Who Knows,” is intentional in its communion aspect — in their original songwriting as well, and that comes through in the proggy surge of “A Few Words to Say,” which feels like a continuation of the dialogue from “Your Whimsical Selfishness” on some level, maybe thematic, and captures an exciting push coming off the speedier “Into the Sun” that serves as a shift to the slower, more willfully expansive “The Sign,” rife with clearheaded ethereality and sunshiny heft.
“Made of Stone,” the longest song at 7:50, is a full-on classic heavy blues jam. It brings a return of the keys in a prominent role and dual vocals from Vieco and Sánchez as if to emphasize command even at what’s arguably The Reset‘s loosest moment. It builds to a classy apex but never wants to go over the top, so doesn’t, leaving the boogie “On Fire” — Priest via Motörhead is a winning combination — to give a landmark hook before the semi-titular closer “A Way to Reset” finishes along similarly straightforward lines structurally, but pulls back on tempo in favor of a nodding groove and intricate call and response bounce of guitar in its verse, almost Graveyard-esque, but the melody and the takeoff solo are Saturna‘s to be sure. They don’t blow it out at the finish, but the last chorus wants nothing for vibrance as a setup for the quiet finish and, on the download, immediate transition to the start of “A National Acrobat.”
Saturna did a covers night at some point, and apparently recorded it. Fair. Not every band would be malleable enough to shift from the sleek prot0-heavy blues wordplay of “Come Together” to the guttural stomp of “Five to One,” but Saturna make it work, with the vocals no less malleable. “Who Knows” comes across particularly funky, and that’s as reasonable an ending as one could ask for The Reset, which might be related as a title to some sense of starting over for the band — they were on one of Ripple‘s Turned to Stone splits in 2022 with Electric Monolith (review here), and one would not describe their sound at that point as broken or needing resetting, but you never know — or could just as easily be a broader call or something as simple as trying to fix the Super Nintendo they found in the garage. I don’t know, but taken on its own level and merits, The Reset stands up to the mighty forebears of its influences with a strength of craft and performance that are undeniable and a vitally engaging construction. There’s no real room for argument.
The band’s video for “A Few Words to Say,” which includes the shift to new guitarist Max Eriksson, premieres below. Please enjoy:
Saturna, “A Few Words to Say” video premiere
More than 4 years had passed since the Barcelona-based band Saturna released ‘Atlantis’, which was their latest full-length album until now. Much had happened since then, and their members had evolved musically, a fact evident from the first listening of “Your whimsical selfishness” and “The never ending star”, the two advance singles from ‘The reset’, their recently released new studio album.
This new offering from Saturna arrives through Spinda Records and Discos Macarras – who also co-released their previous album – and immediately positions itself as their best album to date , and also the most varied in terms of compositions. It explores a musical landscape that is a blend of hard rock, psychedelia, post-grunge, and heavy rock, as the band pointed out in recent interviews with Bienvenidos a los 90 and Siete Barbas Estudio, where they performed a live session, including “Smile” and “The never ending star”, both tracks from their new album.
Recorded at Analog Drive-in Studios, mixed by their regular collaborator Dani Pernas and mastered at Doctor Master, ‘The reset’ is now officially available in both physical formats (compact disc and vinyl) and digital. The Bandcamp edition includees 4 bonus live tracks featuring covers of Black Sabbath, The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix y The Doors.
First tour dates announced: Jan 20 in Barcelona (ES) @ Sala Wolf Feb 17 in Vitoria-Gasteiz (ES) @ Errekaleor Ouzo Askea Mar 10 in Torredembarra (ES) @ La Travi Jul 5 in Tenerife (ES) @ Teatro Leal La Laguna
THE RESET 1. Your whimsical selfishness 2. The never ending star 3. Smile 4. December’s dust 5. Into the sun 6. A few words to say 7. The sign 8. Made of stone 9. On fire 10. A way to reset
All songs have been written and produced by Saturna. Lyrics by James Vieco and Saturna.
Recorded by Christian A.Korn at Analog Drive-in. Mixed by Dani Pernas. Mastered by Estanislao Elorza at Doctor Master. Artwork and cover by Jondix. Design and layout by Marta Ramon.
Additional musician: Toni del Amo – Keyboards
SATURNA is: Rod Tirado – Bass James Vieco – Vocals, guitars Alexandre Sánchez – Guitars, backing vocals Enric Verdaguer – Drums
Posted in Questionnaire on June 14th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Oscar Chamorro (vocals/guitar), Pepo Villena (drums), Ramón Viña (bass) from Electric Monolith
—
How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
Oscar Chamorro: I like to think I create worlds. The hard way I guess. Lots of trial, and error.
Ramón Viña: I work as a musicologist, DJ, and I also have a role in this band. Simply because of my love/obsession with music since I was very young, and this is what led me to where I am.
Pepo Villena: A self taught drummer doing his best and I would say thanks to my mom’s patience during my young (and rebel) days I’ve been able to become who I’m right now.
Describe your first musical memory.
OC: Ta, Da, Da, Ta, Taaaaaa. The main motif of Steven Spielberg’s “Close encounters of the third kind”. I believe it was the first film I saw in the big screen, and I was pretty young, so I have a strong attachment to this movie.
RV: The Beatles. My parents used to listen to them all the time, so they are the O.S.T. of my life.
PV: Singing basque christmas carols dressed in typical basque clothes in my neighbourhood, going door to door to earn some money with my friends as a really young kid.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
OC: That’s a hard one, as there are so many… But I can mention a special one. The first time I heard “Come Together” by The Beatles under the influence of LSD. I’ve heard that band plenty of times since I was a kid, but I never listened to them like that once.
RV: Nirvana’s show in 1994 at Barcelona, and all that came during that era, music-wise.
PV: As a performer I would say any of the gigs we’ve played at the disappeared and missed Rocksound, the greatest venue Barcelona ever had. And as an audience there are lots of great memories to choose just one, maybe my first big festival as a kid. Warped Tour on 98 with Bad Religion and The Specials amongst other great bands from that time like C.I.V., Lagwagon or Ignite. Yes, I was a teenage punk rocker!
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
OC: Last time I broke off with someone.
RV: When I grow up, I realize everything I’ve been told was a lie.
PV: I was member of the workers council of my company and I’m a member of an anarchist workers union and recently had to quit the job because of the pressures and false allegations from other union members playing in favor of the company and getting rid of all the uncomfortable people on the workers council to do whatever they want with the coworkers.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
OC: To me it leads to a never ending road where I find myself chasing unreachable carrots all over, and over…
RV: It leads to experimentation, and trying new things. Always.
PV: To always keep discovering new ways of expression and boundaries to reach.
How do you define success?
OC: Being able to achieve whatever you want to?
RV: When you do the things you really want to do.
PV: Doing what you love the most for the living and not having to work for anyone but yourself.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
OC: You don’t want to know. Trust me ;)
RV: So many things. I rather not talk about them. hahaha
PV: People with lots of ego turning into others for stupid things or being rude because of their supposed “social status” or whatever. Hateful.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
OC: A full OST.
RV: A business related to musicology or show promoter.
PV: A nice and profitable venue in Barcelona for gigs and rehearsal rooms for all musician friends in our scene.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
OC: To move people by touching their hearts, and minds. I think it is all about feelings at the end.
RV: Make you feel things, and inspire you.
PV: To transmit feelings, experiences or ideas to the audience/viewers/readers/etc. and connect in a way that anything else can.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
OC: A full feature film or a TV series. Cinema is another love of mine. I’ve been poking there for years, too many perhaps, but it all ended in disaster ;) I have nice memories though. Some part inside me stills looking forward to it. Who knows?
RV: I always loved cinema, although I doubt I end up doing any of that. Mi world. and my job, both are related to music.
PV: Have my own farm or at least a little piece of land to grow things there.
Posted in Questionnaire on April 26th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Joan Francesc “Fiar” Monguió of Foscor
—
How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
At my studying years of career, I remember having a conversation with a renewed poet who was explaining to the class the sort of emotional dialogue poetry allowed him to develop. Like an exercise which words were tools for defining the immaterial… I remember asking him why he couldn’t see a way higher tool and resource music than poetry, considering that the immaterial perhaps shouldn’t be defined with words, limited in meaning and scope, because responses to a way higher level of comprehension??
I remember sharing some thoughts with him about that, and how conventions and language must serve humans to define what they don’t know. From that point, I understood why I always felt that music was the path I needed to live…something special having way more to do with an untouchable emotional point of view, than a simple tool for catching a moment.
Music speaks to your guts, heart and more essential emotions, despite someone would call them perverted by the society and education we all have had… Music should only speak to that level of human consciousness, the immaterial one, and allow each of the ones you shared it too, feel it from their very unique nature.
So, Emotional Music is what I like to think I do… or face.
Describe your first musical memory.
As a kid, being at my grandparents’ living room, playing with my hands being an orchestra director. My grandfather was a classical music lover, and probably under three years, I have images of his wall furniture from where he played those vinyls and show me something I’ve always called, intensity.
Call it trauma…or whatever, but there already was a sort of seed that many years after made a spark of love for music shine. Being part of a moment of greatness, something I wasn’t able to explain and understand at that so early age, but once I started seriously to play in bands, came with strength to me.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
Interesting…and so difficult to answer though. I honestly don’t give much importance to the past in terms of nostalgia. I have always felt a sort of exciting expectation for what’s yet to come, and having this feeling every day or often, because my sight is onwards and not backwards, means the world to me.
Said that, I guess that this difficulty might come from the different way I live and approach myself to the music experience. As a creator or consumer should mark a difference regarding picking a best memory, and why not the personal moment on each parcel or the Live one perhaps should too. I know…you are just asking me for one best musical memory, but honestly, I cannot set only one when it refers to music.
I think it was “Within The Depths of Silence and Phormations”, in 1995, during a trip to the Basque Country trees one of the most intense experiences with music I’ve ever had…Ok, there was some help of substances that helped to merge us with Nature and ourselves…but this memory still gives goosebumps. There would be a couple of unique moments when listening to a couple of Norwegian Black Metal albumsin a way more lonely way, back in the days, which like nails…are deep inside and would accompany this top.
In terms of Live experience, it’s so difficult to beat the emotion once lived after a memorable concert from your own band. In my case, the best memory might be set during and after the presentation gig of our 2017’s album “Les Irreals Visions” in our hometown with a sold out venue… I’m not lying if I call it one of the best musical memories, because of the spontaneous moment and thrilling development of actions during the time it lasted…and it might be considered like that closure act for a soooo long process, which made that moment even more special and unique.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
More than a belief I should say a way to face things… If I might set how much being involved in band changed a really shy guy like me from 20’s on… after probably 15 years believing I was doing things right in terms of living, moving and developing my band, a big disappointment moment after releasing our 4th album helped me out to because a new profile of person and definitely grow in a much more productive and efficient way.
Let’s say that our relationship with our label and booking agent at that time suddenly ended after them feeling disappointed on the kind of band they thought we were and they truly found. They were kind enough for explaining the lack of attitude and qualities despite the creative one. I remember feeling so bad at that time, like defeated… and of course it meant big issues in the band’s core.
After that, and a really thoughtful period, I remember jumping to an “empty pool” trying to prove myself that I was much better than what the mirror those guys put me in front showed me. It was like a challenge in terms of changing 360º the manners I used to have…probably improve and polish many I already had but didn’t used right…and learn in a really short time what even in more than 15 years I was not capable to realize. I’ll be always grateful for such experience and bad moment for everything that changed on me and allowed me later to live.
I might write many names who are worth mentioning, but I feel this is about ideas, not stories in itself… Anybody in need to know when I’m talking about, simply look for the band we were before and after 2015.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
And artist shall take care of many sources and resources in order to be able to express his ideas and what comes from heart. From the skills and tools he need, to the inspirational seas where feel drowned in ecstasy… progression should lead to be able to express yourself more and better every time you need it.
I’m thinking on progression linked to your own personal development, what I feel should be natural and healthy in terms of creating and expressing something coherent with yourself. Perhaps this personal development is not necessary leading to communicate and connect much better with people, but at least should allow you to feel as much control as possible of your speech and the process and result of what you need to express.
More often, than someone might think, when all of this occurs, progression in terms of music language appears from nowhere…and it is so thrilling.
How do you define success?
Feeling renovated enthusiasm and motivation for the main things you are led by.
Let’s put an example in terms of music… I might mention an album not reaching or receiving the attention and response you would had expected. I am talking about the passion that moves you on to need expressing yourself with music. All the process lived from the first conception act to the very last effort put into layout, lyrics or promotional visuals cannot be dragged because it doesn’t get “results”.
Maximum, it should make you reconsider your way of expressing if what you want is results, but never get down the passion running through your veins. Same thing goes for values which too often and put to test.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
The coldness on people that shows no empathy with the others… I’ve seen and see that every day in too much life circumstances, and really hurts and makes me feel fed up of the society I live in. You are probably asking me for a music related topic, but even in this small artistic bubble, this is something I wish I would not see anymore.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
An album with no schedule nor money limitations… Let’s say this in a way more positive way: I would love to create an album or even a way more complex creation, gathering as many artistic disciplines as possible, worked from a total feeling of freedom in terms of time and resources. Looks like there’s always a sort of presence pushing behind when recording music, that would be lovely to make disappear…of course it has to do with the fact that we always have had to deal with such moments among many other life matters and obligations, and probably it may affect to the result.
Every new recording gives me the impression that we are way more efficient, productive and capable to manage everything better than before; but even then, there’s job times to deal with, money limits we cannot afford, etc… That’s the dream I have.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
With no doubt it’s a communicative one…
You might fill that with all the aesthetical theory and philosophy, but in the end art is the main tool we humans have to connect with the immaterial world. There’s no need to define what’s immaterial, but I’m pretty sure each one of your readers may have a very own idea of how defining the immaterial from a social, cultural, religious or simply emotional point of view, something we cannot explain but we need to express. And even more… share, because the act of communication, although being based on a dialogue with ourselves, always translates previous moments into something new…so, knowledge, to keep living.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
My son is 2 years and 8 months old, and beyond the challenging moment that paternity means for someone who lives music the way I live, I’m very much looking forward seeing my son develop himself the way he feels. I would love him to be able to express himself in any artistic discipline…but way more important, I would love to see him growing moved by a healthy passion, and surrounded by life aspects that he feels good with.
Posted in Reviews on January 11th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Not to get too mathy or anything — stay with me, folks — but today is the day the Winter 2023 Quarterly Review passes the three-quarter mark on its way to 80 of the total 100 releases to be covered. And some of those are full-lengths, some are EPs, some are new, one yesterday was almost a year old. That happens. The idea here, one way or the other, is personal discovery. I hope you’ve found something thus far worth digging into, something that really hits you. And if not, you’ve still got 30 releases — 10 each today, tomorrow, Friday — to come, so don’t give up yet. We proceed…
Winter 2023 Quarterly Review #71-80:
Black Math Horseman, Black Math Horseman
Though long foretold by the prophets of such things, the return of Black Math Horseman with 2022’s self-titled, live-recorded-in-2019 EP some 13 years after their 2009 debut full-length, Wyllt (discussed here, interview here), helped set heavy post-rock in motion, is still a surprise. The tension in the guitars of Ian Barry (who also handled recording/mixing) and Bryan Tulao in the eponymous opener is maddening, a tumult topped by the vocals of Sera Timms (who here shares bass duties with Rex Elle), and given thunder by drummer Sasha Popovic, and as part of a salvo of three cuts all seven minutes or longer, it marks the beginning of a more intense extraction of the atmospheric approach to heavy songcraft that made their past work such a landmark, with the crashes of “Cypher” and the strummy sway of “The Bough” following ahead of shorter, even-driftier closer “Cypber.” There’s a big part of me that wishes Black Math Horseman was a full-length, but an even bigger part is happy to take what it can get and hope it’s not another decade-plus before they follow it with something more. Not to be greedy, but in 2009 this band had a lot more to say and all this time later that still feels like the case and their sound still feels like it’s reaching into the unknown.
The names here should be enough. It’s Aidan Baker from heavy drone experimentalist institution Nadjaja (‘and’ in Finnish) Jussi Lehtisalo from prog-of-all masters Circle, collaborating and sharing guitar, bass, vocal and drum programming duties — Lehtisalo would seem also to add the keyboards that give the the titular neon to centerpiece “Neon Splashing (From Your Eyes)” — on a 53-minute song cycle, running a broad spectrum between open-space post-industrial drone and more traditional smoky, melancholic, heady pop. Closer “Racing After Midnight” blends darker whispers with dreamy keyboard lines before moving into avant techno, not quite in answer to “I Wanna Be Your Bête Noire” earlier, but not quite not, and inevitably the 14-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “(And I Want Your Perfect) Crocodile Tears” is a defining stretch in terms of ambience and setting the contextual backdrop for what follows, its howling guitar layered with drum machine churn in a way that’s analogous to Jesu in style but not form, the wash that emerges in the synth and guitar there seeming likewise to be the suddenly-there alt-reality New Wave destination of the more languid meander of “Face/Off.” The amalgam of beauty and crush is enough to make one hope this isn’t Baker and Lehtisalo‘s last get together, but if it is, they made something worth preserving. By which I mean to say you might want to pick up the CD.
While their crux is no less in the dreamy, sometimes minimalist, melodic parts and ambient stretches of their longer-form songs and the interludes “In the Tall Grass” and “Bloom (Reprise),” the outright crush of Sacramento’s Chrome Ghost on their third record, House of Falling Ash (on Seeing Red), is not to be understated, whether that’s the lumber-chug of 14-minute opener “Rose in Bloom” or the bookending 13-minute closing title-track’s cacophonous wash, through which the trio remain coherent enough to roll out clean as they give the record its growl-topped sludge metal finish. Continuing the band’s clearly-ain’t-broke collaboration with producer Pat Hills, the six-song/50-minute offering boasts guest appearances from him on guitar, as well as vocals from Eva Rose (ex-CHRCH) on “Furnace,” likewise consuming loud or quiet, punishing or spacious, Oakland-based ambient guitarist Yseulde in the lengthy, minimalist midsection of “Where Black Dogs Dream,” setting up the weighted and melodic finish there, with Brume‘s Susie McMullin joining on vocals to add to the breadth. There’s a lot happening throughout, loud/quiet trades, experimental flourish, some pedal steel from Hills, but guitarist/vocalist Jake Kilgore (also keys), bassist Joe Cooper and drummer Jacob Hurst give House of Falling Ash a solid underpinning of atmospheric sludge and post-metal, and the work is all the more expressive and (intermittently) gorgeous for it.
Straight-ahead, metal-informed, organ-inclusive classic heavy rock is the order of the day on Wölfhead‘s second album, Blood Full Moon, which is the Barclona-based four-piece’s first offering since their 2011 self-titled debut and is released through Discos Macarras, Música Hibrida and Iron Matron Records. An abiding impression of the 11-song offering comes as the band — who filled out their well-pedigreed core lineup of vocalist Ivan Arrieta, guitarists Josue Olmo and Javi Félez, and drummer Pep Carabante with session players David Saavedra (bass) and Albert Recolons (keys) — present rippers like the Motörhead (no real surprise, considering) via Orange Goblin rocker “Funeral Hearse” as the tail end of a raucous opening salvo, or the later “Mother of the Clan,” but from there the proceedings get more complex, with the classic doom roll of “Rame Tep” or the Jerry Cantrell-esque moody twang of “Everlasting Outlaw,” while “Eternal Stone Mountain” blends keyboard grandiosity and midtempo hookmaking in a way that should bring knowing nods from Green Lung fans, while “The Munsters” is, yes, a take on the theme from the tv show, and closer “El Llop a Dins” takes an airier, sans-drums and more open feel, highlighting melody rather than an overblown finish that, had they gone that route, would have been well earned.
Issued through Argonauta Records, Exodus‘ seven inclusions are situated so that their titles read as a sentence: “Is,” “The Future of Mankind,” “Forced By,” “The King of Monsters,” “Because,” “Everything That Has Been Given,” “Will Be Taken Away.” Thus Leipzig, Germany, instrumentalists Godzilla in the Kitchen‘s second album is immediately evocative, even before “Is” actually introduces the rest of what follows across three minutes of progressively minded heavy rock — parts calling to mind Pelican duking it out with Karma to Burn — that give way to the longest cut and an obvious focal point, “The Future of Mankind,” which reimagines the bass punch from Rage Against the Machine‘s “Killing in the Name Of” as fodder for an odd-timed expanse of Tool-ish progressive heavy, semi-psych lead work coming and going around more direct riffing. The dynamic finds sprawl in “Because” and highlights desert-style underpinnings in the fading lead lines of “Everything That Has Been Given” before the warmer contemplation of “Will Be Taken” caps with due substance. Their use of Godzilla — not named in the songs, but in the band’s moniker, and usually considered the “king of monsters” — as a metaphor for climate change is inventive, but even that feels secondary to the instrumental exploration itself here. They may be mourning for what’s been lost, but they do so with a vigor that, almost inadvertently, can’t help but feel hopeful.
Megalurching post-sludgers Onhou leave a crater with the four-song Monument, released by Lay Bare Recordings and Tartarus Records and comprising four songs and a 41-minute run that’s crushing in atmosphere as much as the raw tonal heft or the bellowing vocals that offset the even harsher screams. Leadoff “When on High” (8:19) is the shortest cut and lumbers toward a viciously noisy payoff and last stretch of even-slower chug and layered extreme screams/shouts, while “Null” (10:39) is unremittingly dark, less about loud/quiet tradeoffs though there still are some, but with depths enough to bury that line of organ and seeming to reference Neurosis‘ “Reach,” and “Below” (11:55) sandwiches an ambient beginning and standalone keyboard finish around post-metallic crunch and not so much a mournfulness as the lizard-brain feeling of loss prior to mourning; that naked sense of something not there that should be, mood-wise. Sure enough, “Ruins” (11:03) continues this bleak revelry, rising to a nod in its first couple minutes, breaking, returning in nastier fashion and rolling through a crescendo finish that makes the subsequent residual feedback feel like a mercy which, to be sure, it is not. If you think you’re up to it, you might be, or you might find yourself consumed. One way or the other, Onhou plod forward with little regard for the devastation surrounding. As it should be.
Less meditative than some of Germany’s instrumental heavy psych set, Bremen’s Fuzzerati explore drifting heavy psychedelic soundscapes on their 47-minute second album, Zwo, further distinguishing themselves in longform pieces like “Claus to Hedge” (13:01) and closer “Lago” (13:34) with hints of floaty post-rock without ever actually becoming so not-there as to be shoegazing. “Lago” and “Claus to Hedge” also have harder-hitting moments of more twisting, pushing fuzz — the bass in the second half of “Claus to Hedge” is a highlight — where even at its loudest, the seven-minute “Transmission” is more about dream than reality, with a long ambient finish that gives way to the similarly-minded ethereal launch of “Spacewalk,” which soon enough turns to somewhat ironically terrestrial riffing and is the most active inclusion on the record. For that, and more generally for the fluidity of the album as a whole, Fuzzerati‘s sophomore outing feels dug in and complete, bordering on the jazziness of someone like Causa Sui, but ultimately no more of their ilk than of My Sleeping Karma‘s or Colour Haze‘s, and I find that without a ready-made box to put them in — much as “instrumental heavy psych” isn’t a box — it’s a more satisfying experience to just go where the three-piece lead, to explore as they do, breathe with the material. Yeah, that’ll do nicely, thanks.
At least seemingly in part a lyrical narrative about a demon killing an infant Jesus and then going to hell to rip the wings off angels and so on — it’s fun to play pretend — Afghan Haze‘s Hallucinations of a Heretic feels born of the same extreme-metal-plus-heavy-rock impulse that once produced Entombed‘s To Ride Shoot Straight and Speak the Truth, and yeah, that’s a compliment. The bashing of skulls starts with “Satan Ripper” after the Church of Misery-style serial murderer intro “Pushing up Daisies,” and though “Hellijuana” has more of a stomp than a shove, the dudely-violence is right there all the same. “Occupants (Of the Underworld)” adds speed to the proceedings for an effect like High on Fire born out of death metal instead of thrash, and though the following closer “Gin Whore” (another serial killer there) seems to depart from the story being told, its sludge is plenty consistent with the aural assault being meted out by the Connecticut four-piece, omnidirectional in its disdain and ready at a measure’s notice to throw kicks and punches at whosoever should stand in its way, as heard in that burner part of “Gin Whore” and the all-bludgeon culmination of “Occupants (Of the Underworld).” This shit does not want to be your friend.
My only wish here is that I could get a lyric sheet for the Britpsych-style banger that is “Costco Get Fucked.” Otherwise, I’m fully on board with Canadian trio Massirraytorr‘s debut LP, Twincussion — which, like the band’s name, is also styled all-caps, and reasonably so since the music does seem to be shouting, regardless of volume or what the vocals are actually up to in that deep-running-but-somehow-punk lysergic swamp of a mix. “Porno Clown” is garage raw. Nah, rawer. And “Bong 4” struts like if krautrock had learned about fuckall, the layer of effects biting on purpose ahead of the next rhythmic push. In these, as well as leadoff “Calvin in the Woods” and the penultimate noisefest “Fear Garden,” Massirraytorr feel duly experimentalist, but perhaps without the pretension that designation might imply. That is to say, fucking around is how they’re finding out how the songs go. That gives shades of punk like the earliest, earliest, earliest Monster Magnet, or The Heads, or Chrome, or, or, or, I don’t know fuck you. It’s wild times out here in your brain, where even the gravity slingshot of “The Juice” feels like a relatively straightforward moment to use as a landmark before the next outward acceleration. Good luck with it, kids. Remember to trail a string so you can find your way back.
Serbian five-piece Tona make their self-titled second LP with a 10-song collection that’s less a hodgepodge and more a melting pot of different styles coming together to serve the needs of a given song. “Sharks” is a rock tempo with a thrash riff. “Napoleon Complex Dog” is blues via hardcore punk. Opener “Skate Zen” takes a riff that sounds like White Zombie and sets it against skate rock and Megadeth at the same time. The seven-minute “Flashing Lights” turns progadelic ahead of the dual-guitar strut showoff “Shooter” and the willful contrast of the slogging, boozy closer “Just a Sip of It.” But as all-over-the-place as Tona‘s Tona is, it’s to the credit of their songwriting that they’re able to hold it together and emerge with a cohesive style from these elements, some of which are counterintuitively combined. They make it work, in other words, and even the Serbian-language “Atreid” gets its point across (all the more upon translation) with its careening, tonally weighted punk. Chock full of attitude, riffs, and unexpected turns, Tona‘s second long-player and first since 2008 gives them any number of directions in which to flourish as they move forward, and shows an energy that feels born from and for the stage.
Posted in Questionnaire on October 5th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Marçal Itarte of Maragda
—
How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I put my efforts to combine my passion for music and mountaineering with my family life and a part time job.
Describe your first musical memory.
I remember my brother playing a Metallica cassette everywhere. It was on at home, in the car… One day our mother asked what was that radio show on the radio, because there were no adds, no one speaking… she was driving us to school. It was not a radio show it was The Cassette. Again.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
Probably the best memories are that shows that one plays or attends that they end up being magic.
I have a very special memory of a Motorpsycho show so many years ago. At that moment I didn’t know the band yet and I was totally mesmerized, had goosebumps and I was sober. I don’t remember any show ever since where I had that feeling. That one and Tool live in Lisbon was also memorable!
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
I have always played music or recorded it in the most technical approach, and I was convinced it was the best way to do it. One day I realized I wasn’t doing well, I wasn’t putting to much of my thoughts and not so much of my heart.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I guess it’s a never ending journey of exploration. For some might be refining a certain way to play certain instrument or style, for other maybe it’s experimentation with new ways of expression, or maybe some sort of creative freedom one reaches after many years of creating stuff. At the moment I am feeling motivated into learning drumming and finding new sounds.
How do you define success?
I think something is successful when it meets the objectives you made that for, doesn’t matter if it’s a random casual objective or a very ambitious one. It could be playing drums today, or it could be finishing a song and feeling satisfied with the result. It could also be respecting your decision of having a rest day and actually rest!
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
I have seen so many things that I wish I wouldn’t. I am a social worker and I have seen some hard lives and injustice. More personally, I‘d say I wish I didn’t have seen myself in some situations in the past.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I would like to build myself a house.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
I am not sure if I understand it as a function, or maybe a reason to be, but I like to think of art as a mean of transformation.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
I am putting my efforts into a change in my career.
Posted in Reviews on September 21st, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Day three, passing the quarter mark of the Quarterly Review, halfway through the week. This is usually the point where my brain locks itself into this mode and I find that even in any other posts where I’m doing actual writing I need to think about I default to this kind of trying-to-encapsulate-a-thing-in-not-a-million-words mindset, for better or worse. Usually a bit of both, I guess. Today’s also all over the place, so if you’re feeling brave, today’s the day to really dig in. As always, I hope you enjoy. If not, more coming tomorrow. And the day after. And then again on Monday. And so on.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Nadja, Labyrinthine
The second full-length of 2022 from the now-Berlin-based experimental two-piece Nadja — as ever, Leah Buckareff and Aidan Baker — is a four-song collaborative work on which each piece features a different vocalist. In guesting roles are Alan Dubin, formerly of Khantate/currently of Gnaw, Esben and the Witch‘s Rachel Davies, Lane Shi Otayonii of Elizabeth Colour Wheel and Full of Hell‘s Dylan Walker. Given these players and their respective pedigrees, it should not be hard to guess that Labyrinthine begins and ends ferocious, but Nadja by no means reserve the harshness of noise solely for the dudely contingent. The 17-minute “Blurred,” with Otayonii crooning overtop, unfurls a consuming wash of noise that, true, eventually fades toward a more definitive droner of a riff, but sure enough returns as a crescendo later on. Dubin is unmistakable on the opening title-track, and while Davies‘ “Rue” runs only 12 minutes and is the most conventionally listenable of the inclusions on the whole, even its ending section is a voluminous blowout of abrasive speaker destruction. Hey, you get what you get. As for Nadja, they should get one of those genius grants I keep hearing so much about.
El Paraiso Records alert! London Odense Ensemble features Jonas Munk (guitar, production), Jakob Skøtt (drums, art) and Martin Rude (sometimes bass) of Danish psych masters Causa Sui — they’re the Odense part — and London-based saxophonist/flutist Tamar Osborn and keyboardist/synthesist Al MacSween, and if they ever do a follow-up to Jaiyede Sessions Vol. 1, humanity will have to mark itself lucky, because the psych-jazz explorations here are something truly special. On side A they present the two-part “Jaiyede Suite” with lush krautrock rising to the level of improv-sounding astro-freakout before the ambient-but-still-active “Sojourner” swells and recedes gracefully, and side B brings the 15-minute “Enter Momentum,” which is as locked in as the title might lead one to believe and then some and twice as free, guitar and sax conversing fluidly throughout the second half, and the concluding “Celestial Navigation,” opening like a sunrise and unfolding with a playful balance of sax and guitar and synth over the drums, the players trusting each other to ultimately hold it all together as of course they do. Not for everybody, but peaceful even in its most active moments, Jaiyede Sessions Vol. 1 is yet another instrumental triumph for the El Paraiso camp. Thankfully, they haven’t gotten bored of them yet.
True, most of these songs have been around for a few years. All eight of the tracks on Omen Stones‘ 33-minute self-titled full-length save for “Skin” featured on the band’s 2019 untitled outing (an incomplete version of which was reviewed here in 2018), but they’re freshly recorded, and the message of Omen Stones being intended as a debut album comes through clearly in the production and the presentation of the material generally, and from ragers like “Fertile Blight” and the aforementioned “Skin,” which is particularly High on Fire-esque, to the brash distorted punk (until it isn’t) of “Fresh Hell” and the culminating nod and melody dare of “Black Cloud,” the key is movement. The three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Tommy Hamilton (Druglord), bassist Ed Fierro (Tel) and drummer Erik Larson (Avail, Alabama Thunderpussy, etc. ad infinitum) are somewhere between riff-based rock and metal, but carry more than an edge of sludge-nasty in their tones and Hamilton‘s sometimes sneering vocals such that Omen Stones ends up like the hardest-hitting, stoner-metal-informed grunge record that ever got lost from 1994. Then you get into “Secrete,” and have to throw the word ‘Southern’ into the mix because of that guitar lick, and, well, maybe it’s better to put stylistic designations to the side for the time being. A ripper with pedigree is a ripper nonetheless.
Proggy, synth-driven instrumentalist space rock is the core of what Italy’s Jalayan bring forward on the 45-minute Floating Islands, with guitar periodically veering into metallic-style riffing but ultimately pushed down in the mix to let the keyboard work of band founder Alessio Malatesta (who also recorded) breathe as it does. That balance is malleable throughout, as the band shows early between “Tilmun” and “Nemesis,” and if you’re still on board the ship by the time you get to the outer reaches of “Stars Stair” — still side A, mind you — then the second full-length from the Lesmo outfit will continue to offer thrills as “Fire of Lanka” twists and runs ambience and intensity side by side and “Colliding Orbits” dabbles in space-jazz with New Age’d keyboards, answering some of what featured earlier on “Edination.” The penultimate “Narayanastra” has a steadier rock beat behind it and so feels more straightforward, but don’t be fooled, and at just under seven minutes, “Shem Temple” closes the proceedings with a clear underscoring the dug-in prog vibe, similar spacey meeting with keys-as-sitar in the intro as the band finds a middle ground between spirit and space. There are worlds being made here, as Malatesta leads the band through these composed, considered-feeling pieces united by an overarching cosmic impulse.
Following 12 years on the heels and hells of 2010’s Dusk (review here), San Antonio, Texas, doomers Las Cruces return with the classic-style doom metal of Cosmic Tears, and if you think a hour-long album is unmanageable in the day and age of 35-minute-range vinyl attention spans, you’re right, but that’s not the vibe Las Cruces are playing to, and it’s been over a decade, so calm down. Founding guitarist George Trevino marks the final recorded performance of drummer Paul DeLeon, who passed away last year, and welcomes vocalist Jason Kane to the fold with a showcase worthy of comparison to Tony Martin on songs like “Stay” and the lumbering “Holy Hell,” with Mando Tovar‘s guitar and Jimmy Bell‘s bass resulting in riffs that much thicker. Peer to acts like Penance and others working in the post-Hellhound Records sphere, Las Cruces are more grounded than Candlemass but reach similar heights on “Relentless” and “Egyptian Winter,” with classic metal as the thread that runs throughout the whole offering. A welcome return.
Kind of a sneaky album. Like, shh, don’t tell anybody. As I understand it, the bulk of The Freeks‘ nine-tracker Miles of Blues is collected odds and ends — the first four songs reportedly going to be used for a split at some point — and the two-minute riff-and-synth funk-jam “Maybe It’s Time” bears that out in feeling somewhat like half a song, but with the barroom-brawler-gone-to-space “Jaqueline,” the willfully kosmiche “Wag the Fuzz,” which does what “Maybe It’s Time” does, but feels more complete in it, and the 11-minute interstellar grandiosity of “Star Stream,” the 41-minute release sure sounds like a full-length to me. Ruben Romano (formerly Nebula and Fu Manchu) and Ed Mundell (ex-Monster Magnet) are headlining names, but at this point The Freeks have established a particular brand of bluesy desert psych weirdness, and that’s all over “Real Gone” — which, yes, goes — and the rougher garage push of “Played for Keeps,” which should offer thrills to anyone who got down with Josiah‘s latest. Self-released, pressed to CD, probably not a ton made, Miles of Blues is there waiting for you now so that you don’t regret missing it later. So don’t miss it, whether it’s an album or not.
South Africa-based self-recording folk guitarist Duncan Park answers his earlier-2022 release, Invoking the Flood (review here), with the four pieces of In the Floodplain of Dreams, bringing together textures of experimentalist guitar with a foundation of hillside acoustic on opener and longest track (immediate points) “In the Mountains of Sour Grass,” calling to mind some of Six Organs of Admittance‘s exploratory layering, while “Howling at the Moon” boasts more discernable vocals (thankfully not howls) and “Ballad for the Soft Green Moss” highlights the self-awareness of the evocations throughout — it is green, organic, understated, flowing — and the closing title-track reminisces about that time Alice in Chains put out “Don’t Follow” and runs a current of drone behind its central guitar figure to effectively flesh out the this-world-as-otherworld vibe, devolving into (first) shred and (then) noise as the titular dream seems to give way to a harsher reality. So be it. Honestly, if Park wants to go ahead and put out a collection like this every six months or so into perpetuity, that’d be just fine. The vocals here are a natural development from the prior release, and an element that one hopes continue to manifest on the next one.
Crushing and atmospheric in kind, Poland’s MuN released Presomnia through Piranha Music in 2020 as their third full-length. I’m not entirely sure why it’s here, but it’s in my notes and the album’s heavy like Eastern European sadness, so screw it. Comprised of seven songs running 43 minutes, it centers around that place between waking and sleep, where all the fun lucid dreaming happens and you can fly and screw and do whatever else you want in your own brain, all expressed through post-metallic lumber and volume trades, shifting and building in tension as it goes, vocals trading between cleaner sung stretches and gut-punch growls. The layered guitar solo on “Arthur” sounds straight out of the Tool playbook, but near everything else around is otherwise directed and decidedly more pummeling. At least when it wants to be. Not a complaint, either way. The heft of chug in “Deceit” is of a rare caliber, and the culmination in the 13-minute “Decree” seems to use every bit of space the record has made prior in order to flesh out its melancholic, contemplative course. Much to their credit, after destroying in the midsection of that extended piece, MuN make you think they’re bringing it back around again at the end, and then don’t. Because up yours for expecting things. Still the “Stones From the Sky” riff as they come out of that midsection, though. Guess you could do that two years ago.
I’ve never had the fortune of seeing long-running Dallas trio Elliott’s Keep live, but if ever I did and if at least one of the members of the band — bassist/vocalist Kenneth Greene, guitarist Jonathan Bates, drummer Joel Bates — wasn’t wearing a studded armband, I think I might be a little disappointed. They know their metal and they play their metal, exclusively. Comprised of seven songs, Vulnerant Omnes is purposefully dark, able to shift smoothly between doom and straight-up classic heavy metal, and continuing a number of ongoing themes for the band: it’s produced by J.T. Longoria, titled in Latin (true now of all five of their LPs), and made in homage to Glenn Riley Elliott, who passed away in 2004 but features here on the closer “White Wolf,” a cover of the members’ former outfit, Marauder, that thrashes righteously before dooming out as though they knew someday they’d need it to tie together an entire album for a future band. Elsewhere, “Laughter of the Gods” and the Candlemassian “Every Hour” bleed their doom like they’ve cut their hand to swear an oath of fealty, and the pre-closer two-parter “Omnis Pretium (Fortress I)” and “Et Sanguinum (Fortress II)” speaks to an age when heavy metal was for fantasy-obsessed miscreants and perceived devil worshipers. May we all live long enough to see that particular sun rise again. Until then, an eternal “fucking a” to Elliott’s Keep.
Sometime between their 2017 debut, Jungla (review here), and the all-fire-even-the-slow-parts boogie and comprises the eight-song/35-minute follow-up Ambos Mundos, Barcelona trio Cachemira parted ways with bassist Pol Ventura and brought in Claudia González Díaz of The Mothercrow to handle low end and lead vocals alongside guitarist/now-backing vocalist Gaston Lainé (Brain Pyramid) and drummer Alejandro Carmona Blanco (Prisma Circus), reaffirming the band’s status as a legit powerhouse while also being something of a reinvention. Joined by guest organist Camille Goellaen on a bunch of the songs and others on guitar, Spanish guitar and congas, Ambos Mundos scorches softshoe and ’70s vibes with a modern confidence and thickness of tone that put to use amid the melodies of “Dirty Roads” are sweeping and pulse-raising all at once. The name of the record translates to ‘both worlds,’ and the closing title-track indeed brings together heavy fuzz shuffle and handclap-laced Spanish folk (and guitar) that is like pulling back the curtain on what’s been making you dance this whole time. It soars and spins heads until everybody falls down dizzy. If they were faking, it’d fall flat. It doesn’t. At all. More please.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on September 12th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Barcelona-based instrumentalists Coure have set an Oct. 14 arrival date for their debut long-player, Inversum Nema, through Nooirax Producciones. Preorders are up now, if you’re the type to get such things out of the way, and to coincide with that, the sax-included five-piece have a video up now for the song “Ombra Nero Sunna,” which opens the album.
I already noted the sax — bass sax, to be specific, which on the scale of saxophone probably means it’s heavier — and that’s not to leave out the trumpet. Those two effectively fill space that might otherwise be left to vocals, but one way or the other, the focus in “Ombra Nero Sunna” is on ambience. A post-metallic vibe persists, and that blend is the foundation of the impression being made, whatever instruments and jazzy flourish surround.
Coure released a self-titled EP in 2019, and on the other side of the reality swap, with their lineup fully built out as it would seem they intended, they cast an immediately individual vibe despite whatever familiarities exist, and there’s depth in this lead cut enough to make me believe there’s more depth to Inversum Nema than the simple novelty of its having horn players. To wit, the freakout.
The visual ambience accompanying “Ombra Nero Sunna” further supports that argument, as you can see in the clip below. Not necessarily extreme, but definitely dug-in, and not necessarily universally accessible; they don’t strike as a band looking to hook massive audiences so much as explore and blur the lines between genres. Cool by me, maybe you too if you’re in the right frame of mind. The album info follows, hoisted unceremoniously from the Bandcamp page for the album, where preorders, as noted, are open.
Have at you:
Coure, “Ombra Nero Sunna” official video
First single from Coure’s new album “Inversum Nema” that will be released on october 14th 2022 via Nooirax Producciones
Video created and directed by Roger Creus – https://digitalrowye.com/ All music composed, arranged and performed by Coure
Coure receives its name from the metal copper- /CU/ -and from the latin term Cuprum. In ancient times, copper was valued for its malleability and heat transmission, and currently it is valuable for its energy conduction capabilities.
Coure’s music is also malleable and ever changing, though without losing its driving essence, just like said metal. The band’s personality entails the entangling of Metal structures with Progressive parts where both trumpet and saxophone replace the vocals and create atmospheres closer to Free jazz and improvisation.
This album is our first studio recording with the full band, we’ve added a bass sax to the original line-up, he is driving us into an exciting lost highway towards a post-apocalyptic dystopian future, full of crowded cities with noise and nonsense, people who live underground in search of metal, in their solitude invoke ancient gods that never come.
It’s the fruit of the curse that began in 2020 and plunged us more into slavery, in this album there is concentrated a part of darkness that we have suffered since then.
It is an inverted prayer to the ancient gods that few pay attention to.
We are not believers. Pray with us and enjoy the journey!
No one will come to save you…
Coure are: Rowye (drums) Richie (bass) Ferran G (guitar) Pope (trumpet) Ferran B (bass sax)
