Posted in Whathaveyou on April 4th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
If you’ve been keeping up for the last several weeks as Psychedelic Source Records has been making its way through releasing four three-song collections culled from two sets this past February. And there have been various evocations across the first three editions — part one here, part two here, part three here — but that it would end in the future, with keyboardy sounds and a duly cosmic expanse, should probably be no surprise. The Hungarian collective rarely rest on laurels long enough even to press vinyl before they’re on to the next thing, and you can see in the update below, there’s mention of two other upcoming releases. One is a collab and one is a third session at the goatfarm, which immediately sends my brain down a sentimental rabbithole since I was there for the first.
And if you’re saying to yourself that surely such a rad, once-in-a-lifetime-for-some-schlub-from-New-Jersey experience would bias me in favor of Psychedelic Source Records forever and so of course I would think a four-week series of jams, as always, improvised and recorded live, is awesome, then my answer back to you is yeah, you’re probably right. I think that’s kind of how being a fan works, and if you want a reason to be a fan, Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest, the whole series right up to what these tracks bring to it, should serve handily. All the more if you’re the type to admire creative openness. From where I sit it’s been a pleasure to keep up. A little spoiling, even.
The info from Bandcamp and all four streaming players follow here. Would be a decent way to spend your day, is all I’m saying. Either way, enjoy:
Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 4
Hi All, the last piece of our live release pack is out now. 4 sessions on 4 albums.
Mellow stuff with heavy parts, trumpet, keyboard in sight.
Anyway, we have some surprise vinyl releases in the pressing plant now, and the third goatfarm session is planned to get done in June.
Also another beautiful vinyl release is in process and we jammed with a surprise dude from Japan, who is the member of our far-favourite psych rock band ever ;) We recorded that session, progression just started.
Thank you for all your support have a great springtime.
1. Feel of Fuel 12:10 2. Echoes From the Future I 07:29 3. Echoes From the Future II 17:21
released April 4, 2025
Bass – Gergely Szabo Drums – Nikosz Tasos Vangelisz Guitars – Bence Ambrus Trumpet and keys – Miklos Kerner Art – Parahobo
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 28th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
It’d be real easy to get spoiled with Psychedelic Source Records dropping weekly jams like the Hungarian collective have been these last couple weeks with the four-part series, Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest. As the Vol. 3 in the title indicates, this is part three — part one here, part two here; both also below because I’m not here for money and don’t actually care about or even track clicks — and it comes from the second of two nights the PSR collective took stage at Riff Budapest to support Great Rift and Black Flamingo playing improv jams.
Getting one live record out of one set is pretty solid. Getting two out of two sets, doubly impressive. With Psychedelic Source Records, since it’s all made up on the spot, unless something breaks — and if it does, there’s always a bit of clever editing — the point is exploration, so anytime these folks are somewhere with a tape running, they can potentially get something out of it. Four releases out of two sets? Well that’s just unmatched psychedelic efficiency, my friends.
On Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. III, once again the format and cover art are consistent — killer hippo and three jams of varying length. In this case, the spirit is a little mellower as noted below, but with the bit of dub divergence in “Flowers and Baguettes,” and the soothing breadth of the entirety, given jazzy fluidity through slow pulls of trupmet, effects and so on. As regards methodology, it’s standard practice for Psychedelic Source Records to show up and do this kind of thing, but the results across these last couple weeks have been something special. I look forward to another chapter next week as the series wraps.
Here’s the info and such from Bandcamp, plus all the streams:
Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 3
Happened on 21 and 22 February: Parahobo organized a double gig for Great Rift and Black Flamingo at Riff Budapest, one of the last bastions of the real underground in Hungary.
Asked us to jam instead of a simple support band. So we set the gear up, played and recorded 4 sets in this 2 days. All sessions turned out nice, so we decided to release all of them.
This was the first session on the second day, one of the best for sure. The mellow psych rock, Máté sit behind the drums (appears in Slight Layers and a lot of sessions) Microdosemike’s Miki on trumpet and keyboard.
1. Laudanum Drops 15:18 2. Flowers and Baguettes 13:12 3. El Campo 08:09
released March 28, 2025
Bass – David Strausz Drums – Mate Varga Guitars – Akos Karancz and Gergely Szabo Trumpet and keys – Miklos Kerner Art – Parahobo
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 21st, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Watch out for when that trumpet hits in “Opal.” Nobody ever expects the funky trumpet and then — wham! Trumpetfunk all over the floor of the place. Good luck getting that stain out.
As the title suggests, Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 2 is the second installment to be issued in the series. It follows behind last week’s Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 1 (discussed here) and follows that outing’s three-track format, though as noted below, the two sets — two of four; stay tuned next week — have different personalities between them. “Hold” follows “Opal” and reminds with its synth line and jazzy rhythm of something Causa Sui might conjure, while “White Falcon” feels all safe in its drift until ending up surprisingly heavy in its push for something made up on the spot. Its last crashout after nearly 16 minutes of sprawl is a welcome relief of the tension they’ve built.
Like I said, there are two more sets on the way, but this is something to dig into while you make your way through next week en route to Vol. 3. See you there:
Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 2
Happened on 21 and 22 February: Parahobo organized a double gig for Great Rift and Black Flamingo at Riff Budapest, one of the last bastions of the real underground in Hungary.
Asked us to jam instead of a simple support band. So we set the gear up, played and recorded 4 sets in this 2 days. All sessions turned out nice, so we decided to release all of them.
From 14 of March we load a session up to bandcamp every week.
For the second session on friday, Miki joined to us also, we set up the trumpet and the moog, it took some time but came out beautifully irregular. Behind the drums we got Sanya from TPSRPRT/ Jaikogian, this session is more post-rock and kraut.
Tracklisting; 1. Opal 07:56 2. Hold 10:38 3. White Falcon 15:51
released March 21, 2025
Bass – Robert Kranitz Drums – Sandor Nagy Guitars – Akos Karancz and Bence Ambrus Trumpet and keys – Miklos Kerner Art – Parahobo
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 17th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Released this past Friday and recorded a scant four weeks ago, Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 1 marks the beginning of a four-part series of offerings to come from Psychedelic Source Records. The next one, as I understand it, will be out this Friday, with volumes three and four out March 28 and April 4, respectively. If you think a four-part weekly series of releases is a lot, you’re right, but as it’s all already been recorded and as this is by no means Psychedelic Source Records‘ first time at the dance of being prolific, there’s little doubt of their completing the set as they’ve laid it out.
This first volume, though, brings three extended jams carved out of longer excursions that brim with improvisational exploring, tripped-out effects sprawl and in the case of “Neddy Lows,” a whole shoegazey bluesy stretch before the second half lines up behind a more forward riff, the conversation between players seeming to be such that everybody knew where they were headed before actually knowing. As far as brand names you can trust, Psychedelic Source Records are second to none in my mind for the individual nature of the collective and the consistent quality of the jams they put out. Three more weeks of this, you say? See you on Friday.
Much to their credit, PSR is off most social media at this point, but the Bandcamp link lets you follow and that’s three recommended play here as far as I’m concerned. Like everything they put out, this is name-your-price. Recording details, links and the audio follow, taken from that same Bandcamp page:
Psychedelic Riffage From Under the Ground of Budapest Vol. 1
Happened on 21 and 22 February: Parahobo organized a double gig for Great Rift and Black Flamingo at Riff Budapest, one of the last bastions of the real underground in Hungary.
Asked us to jam instead of a simple support band. So we set the gear up, played and recorded 4 sets in this 2 days. All sessions turned out nice, so we decided to release all of them.
From 14 of march we’re gonna load a session up to Bandcamp every week.
The original plan for the first session was that Robi will play the Bass but they swapped with Strausz in the last min, so it became a secret :nepaal gig at the beginning. You’ll hear signs of it.
released March 14, 2025
Tracklisting: 1. Caves of Glass 11:15 2. Neddy Lows 18:55 3. The Fall of the Great Protanopian 12:18
Bass – David Strausz Drums – Krisztian Megyeri Guitars – Akos Karancz and Bence Ambrus Art – Parahobo
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 Reviews on October 11th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
I got a note from the contact form a bit ago in my email, which happens enough that it’s not really news, except that it wasn’t addressed to me. That happens sometimes too. A band has a form letter they send out with info — it’s not the most personal touch, but has a purpose and doesn’t preclude following-up individually — or just wants to say the same thing to however many outlets. Fair game. This was specifically addressed to somebody else. And it kind of ends with the band saying to send a donation link, like, “Wink wink we donate and you post our stuff.”
Well shit. You mean I coulda been making fat stacks off these stoner bands all the while? Living in my dream house with C.O.C. on the outdoor speakers just by exploiting a couple acts trying to get their riffs heard? Well I’ll be damned. Yeah man, here’s my donation link. Daddy needs a new pair of orthopedic flip-flops. I’ma never pay taxes again.
Life, sometimes.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
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Alunah, Fever Dream
The seventh full-length from UK outfit Alunah, Fever Dream, will be immediately noteworthy for being the band’s last (though one never knows) with vocalist Siân Greenaway fronting the band, presiding over an era of transition when they had to find a new identity for themselves. Fever Dream is the third Alunah LP with Greenaway, and its nine songs show plainly how far the band has come in the six-plus years of her tenure. “Never Too Late” kicks off with both feet at the intersection of heavy rock and classic metal, with a hook besides, and “Trickster of Time” follows up with boogie and flute, because you’re special and deserve nice things. The four-piece as they are here — Greenaway on vocals (and flute), guitarist Matt Noble, bassist Dan Burchmore and founding drummer Jake Mason — are able to bring some drama in “Fever Dream,” to imagine lone-guitar metal Thin Lizzy in the solo of the swaggering “Hazy Jane,” go from pastoral to crushing in “Celestial” and touch on prog in “The Odyssey.” The finale “I’ve Paid the Price” tips into piano grandiosity, but by the time they get there, it feels earned. A worthy culmination for this version of this band.
Swiss heavy post-hardcore unit Coilguns‘ fourth LP and the first in five years, though they’ve had EPs and splits in that time, Odd Love offers 11 songs across an adventurous 48 minutes, alternately raw or lush, hitting hard with a slamming impact or careening or twisting around, mathy and angular. In “Generic Skincare,” it’s both and a jet-engine riff to boot. Atmosphere comes to the fore on “Caravel,” the early going of “Featherweight” and the later “The Wind to Wash the Pain,” but even the most straight-ahead moments of charge have some richer context around them, whether that’s the monstrous tension and release of capper “Bunker Vaults” or, well, the monstrous tension and release of “Black Chyme” earlier on. It’s not the kind of thing I always reach for, but Coilguns make post-hardcore disaffection sound like a good time, with intensity and spaciousness interwoven in their style and a vicious streak that comes out on the regular. Four records deep, the band know what they’re about but are still exploring.
Subconscious Awakening is Robot God‘s second album of 2024 and works in a similar two-sides/four-songs structure as the preceding Portal Within, released this past Spring, where each half of the record is subdivided into one longer and shorter song. It feels even more purposeful on Subconscious Awakening since both “Mandatory Remedy” and “Sonic Crucifixion” both hover around eight and a half minutes while side A opens with the 13-minute “Blind Serpent” and side B with the 11-minute title-track. Rife with textured effects, some samples, and thoughtful melodic vocals, Subconscious Awakening of course shares some similarity of purpose with Portal Within, which was also recorded at the same time, but a song like “Sonic Crucifixion” creates its own sprawl, and the outward movement between that closer and the title-track before it underscores the progressivism at work in the band’s sound amid tonal heft and complex, sometimes linear structures. Takes some concentration to wield that kind of groove.
Especially for an experimentalist, drone-based act who relies on audience theater-of-the-mind as a necessary component of appreciating its output, Pittsburgh solo outfit Fuzznaut — aka guitarist Emilio Rizzo — makes narrative a part of what the band does. Earlier this year, Fuzznaut‘s “Space Rock” single reaped wide praise for its cosmic aspects. “Wind Doula” specifically cites Neil Young‘s soundtrack for the film Dead Man as an influence, and thus brings four minutes more closely tied to empty spread of prairie, perhaps with some filtering being done through Earth‘s own take on the style as heard in 2005’s seminal Hex: Or Printing in the Infernal Method. One has to wonder if, had Rizzo issued “Wind Doula” with a picture of an astronaut floating free on its cover, it would be the cosmic microwave background present in the track instead of stark wind across the Great Plains, but there’s much more to Fuzznaut than self-awareness and the power of suggestion. Chalk up another aesthetic tryout that works.
Trad metal enthusiasts will delight at the specificity of the moment in the history of the style Void Moon interpret on their fourth album, Dreams Inside the Sun. It’s not that they’re pretending outright that it’s 1986, like the Swedish two-piece of guitarist/bassist Peter Svensson and drummer/vocalist Marcus Rosenqvist are wearing hightops and trying to convince you they’re Candlemass, but that era is present in the songwriting and production throughout Dreams Inside the Sun, even if the sound of the record is less directly anachronistic and their metallurgical underpinnings aren’t limited to doom between slowed down thrash riffs, power-metal-style vocalizing and the consuming Iommic nod of “East of the Sun” meeting with a Solitude Aeturnus-style chug, all the more righteous for being brought in to serve the song rather than to simply demonstrate craft. That is to say, the relative barn-burner “Broken Skies” and the all-in eight-minute closer “The Wolf (At the End of the World,” which has some folk in its verse as well, use a purposefully familiar foundation as a starting point for the band to carve their own niche, and it very much works.
Best known for slinging his six-string alongside brother Kyle Juett in Texas rockers Mothership, Kelley Juett‘s debut solo offering, Wandering West pulls far away from that classic power trio in intention while still keeping Juett‘s primary instrument as the focus. Some loops and layering don’t quite bring Wandering West the same kind of experimental feel as, say, Blackwolfgoat or a similar guitarist-gonna-guitar exploratory project, but they sit well nonetheless alongside the fluid noodling of Juett‘s drumless self-jams. He backs his own solo in centerpiece “Breezin’,” and the subsequent “Electric Dreamland” seems to use the empty space as much as the notes being cast out into it to create its sense of ambience, so if part of what Juett is doing on Wandering West is beginning the process of figuring out who he is as a solo artist, he’s someone who can turn a seven-minute meander like “Lonely One” (playing off Mos Generator?) into a bluesy contemplation of evolving reach, the guitar perfectly content to talk to itself if there’s nobody else around. Time may show it to be formative, but let the future worry about the future. There’s a lot to dig into, here and now.
With vocalists Kristian Eivind Espedal (Gaahls Wyrd, Trelldom, ex-Gorgoroth, etc.) and Lindy-Fay Hella (Wardruna, solo, etc.), guitarist Ronny “Valgard” Stavestrand (Trelldom) and drummer/bassist/keyboardist/producer Iver Sandøy (Enslaved, Relentless Agression, etc.), who also helmed (most of) the recording and mixed and mastered, Whispering Void easily could have fallen into the trap of being no more than the sum of its pedigree. Instead, the seven songs on debut album At the Sound of the Heart harness aspects of Norwegian folk for a rock sound that’s dark enough for the lower semi-growls in the eponymous “Whispering Void” to feel like they’re playing toward a gothic sentiment that’s not out of character when there’s so much melancholy around generally. Mid-period Anathema feel like a reference point for “Lauvvind” and the surging “We Are Here” later on, and by that I mean the album is intricately textured and absolutely gorgeous and you’ll be lucky if you take this as your cue to hear it.
You know how sometimes in a workplace where there’s a Boss With Personality™, there might be a novelty sign or a desk tchotchke that says, “The beatings will continue until morale improves?” Like, haha, in addition to wage theft you might get smacked if you get uppity about, say, wage theft? Fine. Orme sound like what happens when morale doesn’t improve. The 24-minute single-song No Serpents, No Saviours EP comes a little more than a year after the band’s two-song/double-vinyl self-titled debut (review here) and finds them likewise at home in longform songwriting. There are elements of death-doom, but Orme are sludgier in their presentation, and so wind up able to be morose and filthy in kind, moving from the opening crush through a quiet stretch after six minutes in that builds into persistent thuds before dropping out again, a sample helping mark the transitions between movements, and a succession of massive lumbering parts trading off leading into a final march that feels as tall as it is wide. I like that, in a time where the trend is so geared toward lush melody, Orme are unrepentantly nasty.
Budapest instrumentalist duo Azutmaga make their full-length debut with the aptly-titled Offering, compiling nine single-word-title pieces that reside stylistically somewhere between sludge metal and doom. Self-recorded by guitarist Patrik Veréb (who also mixed and mastered at Terem Studio) and self-released by Veréb and drummer Martin Várszegi, it’s a relatively stripped-down procession, but not lacking breadth as the longer “Aura” builds up to its full roll or the minute-long “Orca” provides an acoustic break ahead of the languid big-swing semi-psychedelia of “Mirror,” informed by Eastern European folk melodies but ready to depart into less terrestrial spheres. It should come as no surprise that “Portal” follows. Offering might at first give something of a monolithic impression as “Purge” calls to mind Earth‘s steady drone rock, but Azutmaga have a whole other level of volume to unfurl. Just so happens their dynamic goes from loud to louder.
After trickling out singles for over a year, including the title-track of the album and, in 2022, an early version of the instrumental “The Freaks Come Out at Night” that may or may not have been from before vocalist Virginie D. joined the band, the hashtag-named #chaleurhumaine delights in shirking heavy rock conventions, whether it’s the French-language lyrics or divergences into punk and harder fare, but nothing here — regardless of one’s linguistic background — is so challenging as to be inaccessible. Catchy songs are catchy, whether that’s “Fada Fighters” or “La Diable au Corps,” which dares a bit of harmonica along with its full-toned blues rock riffing. Likewise, nowhere the album goes feels beyond the band’s reach, and while “La Ligne” doesn’t sound especially daring as it plays up the brighter pop in its verse and shove of a chorus, well made songs never have any trouble finding welcome. I’m not sure why it’s a hashtag, but #chaleurhumaine feels complete and engaging, at once familiar and nothing so much as itself.
Posted in Reviews on August 5th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
I knew when I saw the dude in the Trouble shirt that I was on the right bus. It wasn’t as hot today, some rain, but still humid enough to sweat on the way to Dürer Kert, which has tables enough outside for probably a couple hundred people, though there weren’t that many about a half-hour before the listed 7PM show time. A couple food trucks around. A bar playing music with a beat, including a lounge-techno version of “Imagine.” A small, now-empty, stage that would be perfect for a DJ. Dürer Kert (the ‘kert’ means ‘garden,’ I think as in beer garden) looked ready for a party. It got one.
I wouldn’t have fretted about arriving early — that’s a total lie; yes I would — but the prompt start the other night made me want to play it safe. That, despite two more bands on the bill as locals Red Swamp — whose metal-tinged soundcheck I heard walking up — and Shapat Terror were opening. On some levels, I guess that’s the difference between a Monday and a Friday night gig. I’m nervous either way. For everything. All the time. Won’t matter when the music starts.
This being my first time seeing Stoned Jesus made it something of an event in my mind. Nothing against Dopelord, just that I’ve watched them play before, though the advent of 2023’s Songs for Satan (review here) put them at another level in my mind. I’ll say I was looking forward to both and mean it for more than diplomacy’s sake, but I’ve enjoyed and written about both for over a decade, and this would be my first live experience with Stoned Jesus. I was nervous for that too, even with a fair amount of night to go before I got there.
Doors were at 7, so that’s when I went in. It was just me in the nagyterem (“big room”) for a while, but they were playing good music and it was cooler than outside and I’m a fucking misanthrope, so I sat on the floor and waited. Green Lung, Dozer, Kyuss, etc. Me and security. I didn’t know there was a photo pit or I’d have tried to get a pass. I messaged Igor from Stoned Jesus, whom I was looking forward to meeting, working under the kind-of-a-bummer assumption that dude had better things to do a couple hours before showtime than get me sorted. So it goes, in my mind. In real life, he came through in like five minutes, I met the promoter and got to take pictures no problem without having to stand in one spot all night and feel like a jerk. That turnaround, that kindness (thank you, Zsanett), kind of made my night.
But there was a show. Here’s how it went:
Red Swamp
Pretty discouraging to have studied the magyarul language for over a year now and barely be able to pick up a word of Red Swamp’s between-song banter apart from “thanks very much” (köszönöm szépen) and other syllables here and there. Long way to go if I actually want to speak it, I guess. Their lyrics were in English to follow suit from their moniker and their style of riff metal more broadly, in which influences from the likes of Lamb of God and Pantera could be heard in addition to the odd metalcore breakdown, vocals capably shifting between cleans and harsher screams/growls. Their opener, “Stoned,” made a hook of a line that was something approximate to “Cuz I’m already stoned,” and that was a bit of charm, and when they hit a slowdown, the Crowbarian nod was there for sure, but their baseline level of aggression would’ve been a surprise if I hadn’t cheated and checked out their newest single “Born to Bleed” this afternoon. They took a photo together on stage when they were done — the last song had the biggest (“a legnagyobb,” which I learned this week) groove of the bunch — and left to the start of “Sweet Leaf” over the P.A. Maybe not my kind of metal all the way, but they were good at what they were doing, having fun and nobody got hurt, so I’m not complaining. The room almost completely cleared when they were done as people went to sit outside with their drinks. I looked up from writing on my phone and there were like six dudes left. Suppose that’s how it’s done at Dürer Kert. I dig it.
Shapat Terror
While both their name and the animated logo on the screen behind them gave a nastier superficial impression, Shapat Terror won me over quickly with their not-emo-but-post-hardcore-rooted melody and noise-rock-but-grown-up sway. Big Soundgarden influence in the vocals, and that’s not a comparison I’m wont to break out unless it’s a compliment. I’d checked them out for a cursory listen before the show too, and I liked that enough to pick up the tape they had at the merch table, but the way the punch of bass from the stage set alongside the major-key reach and the summery groove, well, I wish I’d heard of them before this gig but they’re a band I’m glad to have seen. Nothing too fancy arrangement-wise, but no chestbeating either, and no pretense in a down-to-earth stage presence despite sounding as a group like they probably listen to seven different kinds of punk I’ve never heard of, including whichever kind has chug. Everybody who had gone outside and then some came back in, and by the time they were wrapping up, I legitimately wished they would do a longer set. A couple backing screams near the end were a surprise but not out of place. Good band. Sometimes you luck out.
Dopelord
Their Satanic majesties rolled from start to finish, opening with “The Chosen One” from Songs for Satan, which, yes, has absolutely been playing nonstop in my brain since I found out this show was happening while I was in Hungary. That, “Addicted to Black Magick,” and everything else was a highlight as the Polish four-piece found a consuming level of volume and used it to proliferate a stoner idolatry with a lumber all their own. Great pairing, their being out with Stoned Jesus. Two bands who can break out a massive groove when they need to but have much more to offer than just that, however much the sense of worship — volume, riff, devil, whathaveyou — is central to the character of Dopelord’s music. They played in front of grainy horror footage and the plod was thick until they thrashed out “Headless Decapitator,” which felt like a long way removed from the stage-intro “It Is So Nice to Get Stoned,” but was a hell of a way to spend a couple minutes just the same. Singularly stoned and pummelingly heavy, it was a celebration for the converted, and watching Dopelord, it’s rarely such a raw pleasure to be among that number. They closed with “Reptile Sun” and “Doom Bastards.” Beers were raised. Hoots were hollared. Ar last one couple I saw was making out. Not so much for the latter, though, you know, whatever, but I was really, really glad to have left the apartment to witness Dopelord’s absolutely uncompromising vision of Sabbathian stoner doom, which has only become more their own over time.
Stoned Jesus
I met Igor Sydorenko, Andrew Rodin and Yurii Kononov during Dopelord’s set. The latter two, also brothers, are newcomers in the rhythm section of the band celebrating their 15th — or XVth, as they put it on the poster — anniversary with this tour and their upcoming Fall run. But if you want to know anything about Stoned Jesus, know this: Igor’s no dummy. He’s got a new lineup, but if they weren’t full-baked, or ready, or something was off, they wouldn’t be out on a tour like this at all. Instead, as the band has relocated to Germany as wartime expats following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine and are pivoting from the originally intended follow-up to 2023’s Father Light (review here) — that album was slated to be part of a duology with Mother Dark, now shelved as understand it with the band moving forward in the current incarnation and new new material — while also doing catalog reissues through Season of Mist, the band were airtight through material new and old. “Thoughts and Prayers” from the new album was a highlight, and the set brought into focus for me just how much Stoned Jesus like a blues lick, sure, but how they’re able to shift between a mellow boogie and outright crush without making either feel out of place in the song. Igor is a better singer than I’ve ever seen him get credit for, and the band’s emphasis is exactly where they want it to be, where Igor wants it to be. They auctioned off an original vinyl of Seven Thunders Roar to go to their Ukraine fund. It went for 33,000 HUF, which is about US $90. Worth every penny all the more since they went into “I’m the Mountain” after. The classic. It wasn’t the last song they played, but an inevitable crescendo anyhow, and the crowd was right there for it with he band. The nod of “Get What You Deserve” followed, then “Buried Alive by Love” and “Here Come the Robots” for a lively finish.
—
Not gonna lie, by the time Stoned Jesus were done rocking out, I was all rocked out. Out-rocked, even. I leaned on the wall in the back, sore, tired and ready to be done with a day that was going on 19 hours ahead of another early start in the morning. I hobbled my plantar fasciitis self through the parking lot and out to the road to meet up with the taxi I called for in the Bolt app (the last bus back had been at 11:36), my phone at 23 percent battery and my body no less in need of a charge.
The taxi driver, Tamás, was a hero with chill techno and no conversation. I saw him glance in the back seat a couple times, presumably to make sure I was still alive. It had been another night I felt lucky to be so — and here I acknowledge The Patient Mrs., through whom all thigs are possible — and the subsequent crash-out was proportional to the joy of the experience. Thank you, Budapest. I’ll always remember that the first time I saw Stoned Jesus — and I very much hope not the last — it was here.
Posted in Features on July 10th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Hi. I’m in Budapest, Hungary, from now through the first week of August, with my family.
As always, I will write as much as I can, when I can. The parameters of that may not be the same as they are when I’m home and things are running as normal. If there are two posts a day, one, or none, I’m sure nobody will blink, but I wanted to put this here just so that if you were wondering or didn’t see it mentioned on social media — whatever — there’s some record of what’s going on at this time. Plus, when I look back on it later, I’ll be able to say, “oh yeah, that’s why there were only five posts that week.”
This is the longest trip my wife, daughter, dog and I have undertaken to anywhere, ever, and in addition to being distracted, a good portion of my attention will need to be in that direction as we get settled and adjust to a new place, even for just a couple weeks.
Bottom line is I thank you for reading, for your continued support of this site, and for in some ways making this trip with us. I haven’t decided if or how much I’m going to write about the travel/city itself — I certainly had a few things to say about Zagreb; check in on Friday — but I’m going to play it by how imperative it feels in my brain, which is about the only standard I ever apply.
Once again, thanks. If you’re seeing this, I hope it finds you well. I’ll be back in NJ in August. If you need me for anything in the meantime, the contact form is there or you can probably get me on the aforementioned socials. If you’re sending/following up on music, please be patient and consider ‘as much as I can when I can’ above.
This post is going to stay here for the duration. New posts will appear underneath.
