I won’t lie and say it was easy to get off my couch Friday night and head into snowy-sidewalked Cambridge, but it was worth it. The city was running thick with unfreezable undergraduate blood and upstairs at the Middle East, All Them Witches were headlining a merciful three-band bill with The Well and These Wild Plains for support. It was the second time the Nashville four-piece made a stop at the venue, having come through last fall on tour with Windhand and sold the place out. Not to be understated is their months-only jump to the top of the bill, and not to be ignored were their compatriots in The Well, the Austin-based trio whose RidingEasy Records full-length, Samsara (review here), was my pick for the best debut of 2014. The three-piece’s sometimes-garage-rock-sometimes-tonal-overload made a suitable companion for the open spaces All Them Witches‘ neo-Southern jam-ready heavy rock, which met with fervent approval over the course of about an hour-long set.

The show was 18+, and kids came out on solid force, standing among older rockers. From what I saw, nobody looked like they were there by accident, and when All Them Witches‘ set started, the four players sort of lurching to life with a quick, noodling jam led by guitarist Ben McLeod that shifted smoothly into “Funeral for a Great Drunken Bird” from 2013/2014’s self-released sophomore long-player, Lightning at the Door (review here), drummer Robby Staebler, bassist/vocalist Michael Parks, Jr. and Fender Rhodes wizard Allan Van Cleave soon joining in, easing their way and the crowd’s way into a wash of immersive tones that only ran deeper from there, the raucous “When God Comes Back” and that album’s closer, “Mountain” following. Truth be told, momentum and the room were on their side before they started playing, but even if All Them Witches had had to win the Middle East over, they’d have done so quickly.

All Them Witches arrived in Massachusetts fresh from a seclusion that resulted in the recording of their yet-untitled third album, set to release later this year. Presumably this tour with The Well was a way of shaking off the dust in anticipation of more road time to come. Accordingly, I thought there might be a chance of getting to hear some new material done live, which even if it might not represent the entirety of their next offering would at least give a glimpse at some of the scope and direction of the thing. No such luck. What their plan is for the release — i.e., if they’ve signed with a label and if so, which one — I don’t know, but they kept the setlist primarily to Lightning at the Door material, the satisfying deep-toned chug of “Swallowed by the Sea” a little lighter on its feet as it was when I saw them in Pennsylvania last fall and “The Death of Coyote Woman” hypnotic in its repeated vocal lines from Parks and bluesy guitar, McLeod not at all shy with the slide when called upon to break it out.

No setlist written down, songs were called out on the fly. They dipped back once to their debut, 2012’s Our Mother Electricity (review here), for a rendering of “Elk.Blood.Heart” that elicited an off-mic “You gotta be kidding me” from Parks when it started, but wound up as a singularly powerful moment in the set. It was pretty clear that material wasn’t as familiar to the crowd as the stuff from Lightning at the Door, but at least those standing near me showed no signs of trouble getting on board. They closed out with “Charles William,” which is as close to a single as they’ve come, its blend of bounce, tonal richness, Van Cleave‘s Rhodes — an element not to be understated in any appreciation of what they do — and Staebler‘s hard-hitting swing in the finishing lines necessitating no further statement from the band. All were sent into the cold night having received due communion.

They were reason enough to show up — All Them Witches are a special group of players and watching them solidify on stage even as their sound becomes more fluid offers a rare breed of satisfaction — but I was anxious to see The Well before them. The trio of guitarist/vocalist Ian Graham, bassist/vocalist Lisa Alley and drummer Jason Sullivan were robbed on their last tour, which was also their first, so warranted immediate respect for getting back out, all the more so filling in for original supporting act Mount Carmel at (or close to) the last minute. My big question was whether or not The Well would be able to conjure the same kind of garage-doom atmosphere and air-push live that they do on record. As the feedback hum of Graham‘s guitar grew in volume until it felt like my head was surrounded by it on all sides, my curiosity had its answer. The thrust punctuated by Sullivan‘s kick in songs like “Trespass” and “Mortal Bones” from Samsara every bit delivered what one might’ve hoped from hearing their studio work and then some, the rawness of the stage giving Graham more of a showcase for soloing.

It was an opportunity he seemed to relish. The memorable psych-spooky “Refuge” made its primary impression in its early bounce, but the languid wah in the song’s second half pushed it to highlight territory, and likewise the midsection jam of the extended set-closer “Eternal Well.” Alley and Sullivan both had their share of fills and no question make for a dynamic rhythm section, but I hadn’t fully realized how much Graham‘s guitar brings to the band on a level deeper than “hey bro, cool riffs.” Tonally and in their presentation, they represented high grade stoner-heavy modernity, and as much as one could hear shades of Sleep and Sabbath in their sound, touches here and there of Uncle Acid and so on, the most exciting thing about The Well was how much they seemed to be moving forward from that starting point. I hope they keep touring and keep growing.

If their heaviness was the aspect they shared with All Them Witches, then for the pedal-steel-infused openers, These Wild Plains, it was no doubt the rural sprawl. The local five-piece — whose debut album is due out Feb. 27 — had been crowded on the stage, but their blend of countrified twang and atmospheric post-rock fit the room, and there were plenty who showed up early to see them. Acoustic, lap steel and electric guitar, the latter reminding me distinctly at times of Yawning Man‘s airy tone, and multiple vocalists drove home the Americana vibe, and for a group of Northern boys taking on a distinctly Southern sound, they acquitted themselves well. People were still coming in as they got going, but by the time they finished, there was little doubt the evening had begun.

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Of the more-than-several local shows I’ve been to since moving to New England now more than a year ago, this one had probably the strongest front-to-back bill. It was Elder‘s return gig to US soil. They and Rozamov and Summoner would head south the next day to appear Brooklyn’s Uninvited festival, and partnered with Worcester four-piece SET, it was night at the Middle East‘s upstairs room that highlighted some of the best Boston’s next-gen has to offer. Phrases like “all killer, no filler” were invented for evenings such as these.

To put a personal spin on it, I’ll say as well that it was a cap for me for my first year of living here. 13 months ago, I attended Elder‘s farewell at the Great Scott prior to their going on hiatus (Rozamov played that as well). I had lived in the area for barely two weeks, it was my first show in town as a resident. I was confused and uncomfortable in more than just that I’m-out-of-the-house kind of way. I’m not sure I’d have found the Middle East without the Maps on my phone, but at least when I got to Cambridge, I knew what to expect and where I might find parking. A work in progress, yes, but little things make a difference.

SET opened, and went on a couple minutes after 8:30, kicking off in raucous form. I wasn’t the only one who knew to show up early — upstairs at the Middle East isn’t a huge room, but it’s big enough that if you weren’t going to draw, it would look empty — and SET pulled a decent crowd. It was my third time seeing them behind shows at the Dragon’s Den (review here) and the Stoned Goat fest in Worcester (review here) and I was pleased to be more familiar with songs like “Valley of the Stone” and “Wolves behind the Sheep,” the balance of thrash and heavy rock within which threw down a heavy gauntlet for the other three bands to pick up. If they played it, I didn’t catch “Sacred Moon Cult,” the closer from their spring 2013 Valley of the Stone outing, but seeming to decide to do so off the cuff, they finished out with a convincing take on Pentagram‘s classic “Forever My Queen,” giving double-guitar thrust to the rawness of the original’s riffing.

In addition to being a strong bill, it was also fairly diverse within a heavy scope. That became apparent as Summoner, who played next, made ready to take the stage with both a sound and a character far disparate from that of SET, trading out that’s band’s harsher edge and grittier presence for smoother, more progressive heaviness. What the two bands had in common was a clear thread of tonal heft — Rozamov and Elder followed suit in that regard as well — but Summoner‘s influences, more in the Mastodon/Baroness vein, were spaced out wide enough from the preceding act that they were immediately distinguished. This was also the first I’d seen them since the release of their second album, 2013’s Atlantian, on Magnetic Eye Records, and while I knew from prior experience they delivered live, it was interesting to see them do so as a more mature, established outfit than they were late in 2012 when I caught them in New York.

They pummeled and stomped and dug themselves into their material neatly, clearly enjoying the process as well, guitarists AJ Peters and Joe Richner tilting their heads back across various leads and riffs while vocalist/bassist Chris Johnson kept a consistent, sincere smile across his face no matter how hard he also happened to be slamming the song at the time, and behind, drummer Scott Smith propelled their neo-metallic stomp. Much of what they played came from their 2012 debut, Phoenix, but “Horns of War” represented Atlantian well and “The Interloper” and “Winged Hessians” seemed to rouse no complaints from the increasingly full room there to watch them. When Rozamov went on, the trio would be a turn back toward darker, rawer vibes, but a propensity for big tones remained firm. I stood in front of bassist Tom Corino and could just about have swam through the density oozing out of the speaker cabinet.

It was a bit much, apparently, since part-way through the Rozamov set the bass cut out, leaving drummer Will Hendrix and guitarist/vocalist Matt Iacovelli to fill the time while the problem was discovered, analyzed and ultimately remedied. Blown tube. It didn’t take long, but Rozamov‘s dark, thickened-thrash had built a good head of steam by then and they essentially had to put their momentum back together from scratch. To their credit, they did. By the end of their set, which was a little longer than SET or Summoner‘s had been, it was easy to forget there had been an interruption at all. Much of their material seemed newer than 2013’s Of Gods and Flesh EP, and I’m not sure what they might have in the works, but I think the only Boston band I’ve seen more in the last year is Gozu, and I’ve yet to emerge from a Rozamov set less than impressed.

And Elder. Well, Elder are world-class at this point. They hadn’t played in the States since that farewell show last August, but they did a run of European gigs and their third album is reportedly in the can headed for a 2015 release. One might expect a band in their circumstance to be a little rusty — guitarist/vocalist Nick DiSalvo, bassist Jack Donovan and drummer Matt Couto all live in different states as well — but there wasn’t anything I could’ve asked from Elder‘s set it didn’t deliver, including a glimpse at their new stuff. The song “Compendium” from the new record was the only new one aired, the rest of what they played drawn from 2012’s stellar Spires Burn/Release EP (review here) and 2011’s Dead Roots Stirring (review here), but it offered a sense of progression nonetheless, a forward motion in its central riff acting as a kind of launch point from which the trio boomeranged, pushing as far as they could before snapping back to the initial movement in the manner that has become as much a part of their style as Donovan‘s head-spinning bass fills or Couto‘s unmitigated swing.

To that, I’ll just note that, including this show, I’ve seen Couto play drums in three different bands/iterations in the last month — with Kind in Worcester, with Darryl Shepard‘s Blackwolfgoat in Allston, and here — and while those were a formative act and a sit-in jam, I think it’s still worth pointing out that with Elder, it was a different level of performance entirely. Locked in with Donovan and DiSalvo, he seemed decidedly in his element, and that goes for the other two members of Elder as well, the three of them air-tight on the expansive “Release” and Dead Roots Stirring‘s “Knot,” which rounded out the album and this set alike. It seemed we might get an encore, but I think venue curfew was a factor — it was getting on midnight, and it’s not like it was a Tuesday or anything — and the house lights came up in the universal sign of get-the-hell-out. I’d wanted to pick up a copy of Elder‘s Live at Roadburn, since I hear one or two of my photos is included, but it was packed over there and I had writing to do, so I split into the fall air to start the not-inconsiderable hike back to my car and home.

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There was a point during Black Cobra‘s set last night at T.T. the Bear’s Place in Cambridge at which I felt like my head had been swallowed by some gargantuan octogod out of a Lovecraft horror. Five bands deep into a five-band Tuesday, it was hard to stand up let alone make any attempt to keep up with Black Cobra‘s intensity, which has been outdoing rockers far more riotous than I for over a decade. They were headlining, playing last, of course, a show that might as well have been billed as a festival, with their tourmates Lo-Pan and local support from Lunglust, Hepatagua and Connecticut’s Sea of Bones. My first time at T.T. the Bear’s was going to give me plenty of opportunity to get to know it.

If you’re looking for it, it’s quite literally next to the Middle East, which I don’t suppose will be much help when they turn that whole complex into condos as they’re allegedly going to do sooner or later, likely working at Boston’s usual we’ll-get-there-in-200-years pace in a continued effort to destroy any sense of culture not directly related either to the higher education of its imported money-spending rich kids or the steadfast working class scoffery of its actual citizens. A whole town dedicated to telling itself to fuck off. It’s a good place to like sports, not a good place to try and open a bar. So it goes.

Despite a few circles around the block for parking, I was early. Sea of Bones were opening, so we’ll start there:

Sea of Bones

I was surprised Sea of Bones would start the show. Not because they’re a huge commercial band or anything, but because the Connecticut-based three-piece are so loud, I know that if I was another opening act on the bill, I wouldn’t want to follow them. Their brutal post-doom emanated from a formidable wall of cabinets as Mammoth in sound as in their brand, the company founded by Sea of Bones guitarist Tom Mucherino given a weighty endorsement by the band’s own tectonic force. The tension in their quiet stretches isn’t to be understated, but when Mucherino, bassist Gary Amedy and drummer Kevin Wigginton all crash in on the material from their 2013 two-disc sophomore outing, The Earth Wants us Dead (review here), all three adding their vocals to the assault, they’re quite frankly one of the heaviest acts I’ve ever seen. I spent the last $10 to my miserable name on the CD of The Earth Wants us Dead, and no regrets. An early laugh for the night was when, after two or three songs, they were informed they had five minutes left and ended the set because none of their material is that short. Right fucking on.

 Hepatagua

It was Hepatagua guitarist/vocalist Aaron Gray who reportedly brought the Black Cobra and Lo-Pan tour to town in the first place, and after seeing his duo’s former moniker, Automatic Death Pill, on shows more or less since I moved here, I was glad to finally get to see them play. The band is Gray and drummer Nate Linehan (ex-Anal Cunt, Fistula, Finisher, etc.), and they tapped into various heavy impulses, indulging a thrashy impulse here or there but mostly sticking to a steady groove. Gray‘s vocals leaned aggressive but weren’t necessarily a given as growls, and the chemistry between the two was clear on stage, Automatic Death Pill having gotten their start in 2010, and they seemed most at home in raw sludge. They don’t have anything recorded as yet — rumor is they’ll address that this winter — but it’ll be interesting to find out how or if their material solidifies in the studio or keeps the edge with which they presented it at T.T. the Bear’s. Either way, I sincerely doubt this will be the last time I run into them, and they gave me something to look forward to for the next one.

Lunglust

A five-piece with Nicholas Wolf and Brad Macomber of The Proselyte (also Phantom Glue in the case of the former) on guitar and bass, respectively, Lunglust played that kind of dark hardcore that’s doom in its tone and metal in its fervor but still ready to toss in a breakdown every now and again. Drummer Reid Calkin had “You’re Shitty” emblazoned on the front of his kick, which didn’t seem very nice, but they were as tight as the style would require and five dudes’ worth of loud, guitarist Eric Lee in the dark on the far right of the stage and vocalist Jeff Sykes periodically stepping out onto the speakers in front of the stage to get further get his point across. No worries there. His t-shirt was the second logo sighting of the night for His Hero is Gone (Sea of Bones‘ Mucherino had a patch), and his disaffection bled into each cupped-mic growl. In terms of their basic sound, they weren’t really my thing, but they quickly showed why they were where they were on the bill and pummeled with speed, efficiency and viciousness, seeming to enjoy the violence every step of the way. I was glad no one in the crowd started throwing punches.

Lo-Pan

Going to see Lo-Pan is a no-brainer. Oh, Lo-Pan‘s coming through town? Do you have feet? Well, you better use those feet to march your ass over to wherever they’re gonna be and enjoy. With the release of Colossus, the hard-touring Columbus, Ohio, unit’s fourth album, impending, it seemed all the more reason to be there. “Regulus” from that album was aired, as well as the expansive “Eastern Seas” and “Vox” (track premiere here), and “Marathon Man” was the highlight of my night. They dipped back to 2011’s Salvador (review here) only once, for “Chichen Itza,” and otherwise the whole set was new material. That was the case for the most part as well when they played the Small Stone showcase next door at the Middle East, but I was glad to be more familiar with the songs this time around. On stage, they were much as ever — ridiculously tight and locked in, guitarist Brian Fristoe in a universe comprised of his own sleek grooves while on the opposite side of the stage bassist Scott Thompson bangs his head like he’s trying to shake it off, up front, drummer Jesse Bartz slams his cymbals so hard they bite through your earplugs and in back, vocalist Jeff Martin offers soul-stirring command. I thought he was going to blow out the P.A. during “Vox,” but no equipment was damaged. Still, it was easy to tell how deep into this tour Lo-Pan were. Not quite halfway through the run with Black Cobra, they had their inside jokes going (Martin shouted the whole set out to Guy Fieri, the crowd “didn’t need to know why”) and road eyes on, barely seeing the place, focused and intent on the work they were doing in it, looking right past, all straightforward drive and momentum build.

Black Cobra

That made them an excellent lead-in for Black Cobra. I had wondered how it might be going from Lo-Pan‘s more heavy rocking style to Black Cobra‘s unadulterated thrash bludgeonry, but what the two bands have in common is they’re both killer live acts. In the case of Black Cobra, they’re now a decade removed from the release of their first EP, and the duo of Jason Landrian (guitar/vocals) and Rafa Martinez (drums) have dedicated most of that time to perfecting their craft on the road. The short version is they sound like it. I’ve already told you I was beat to hell by the time they went on. Black Cobra, on the other hand, were a torrent of adrenaline, Martinez and Landrian pounding out selections from their catalog starting with “One Nine” from 2006’s debut full-length, Bestial, and including highlights from their most recent outing, 2011’s Invernal (review here), like “Avalanche,” the righteously chugging “Corrosion Fields” and overwhelmingly extreme “Obliteration.” Like Lo-Pan before them, they sounded like a band who’s been on tour for about two weeks, dead set on what they want to do and how they want to do it. They’re about due for a new record as well, and I was hoping for some new material, but most of what they played came from Invernal, though they included the title-track from 2009’s Chronomega and closed out with “Five Daggers” from 2007’s Feather and Stone, Landrian seeming to take an opportunity between each cut to roar out a primal dominance and encourage the audience to join him in it. They did. No encore at the end, but nothing left to say. The house lights came on quick and those of us still in the room collected our well-demolished consciousnesses and shuffled out. For what it’s worth, Black Cobra looked like they could’ve kept playing with no problem.

I got pulled over on my way home, received a $55 ticket on a back road for my car not being inspected. My car has over 205,000 miles on it. The cop was visibly disappointed I wasn’t drunk, and I was visibly disappointed he existed. Another police vehicle pulled around and sat in a nearby parking lot and I thought about asking Officer McDickhead if he needed backup to tell me my license plate light was out, if maybe he didn’t want to break out the military surplus assault vehicles, but didn’t. He told me have a good night and I grunted at him and rolled up my window. Fucker. Worst part about it is cops are younger than me at this point. Got in somewhere around 2AM.

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The problem with reviewing a Fu Manchu show is picking highlights. “Uh, yeah, the best part was when Fu Manchu showed up and played. That kicked ass.” Review over.

With Ohio Sabbath devotees Electric Citizen and supporting and Boston’s own Gozu — who played with Fu Manchu their last time through as well, also at The Sinclair, if I’m not mistaken — as the opener, the evening promised a three-band bill with no filler. My first time at The Sinclair — getting to know venues has been both terrifying and exciting — it turned out to be a cool space. Pro shop. The location is all Harvarded-out. I laughed seeing a kid get on a college shuttle bus carrying a 30-pack of Keystone Light at the notion of “higher” education, but restaurants and bars and whatnot line kind of a side-street near the same square where one finds Armageddon Shop. You go up stairs outside to enter and a couple more to step up to the stage area. There’s a balcony in back that seemed like prime real estate, and the stage, high, well-lit, boasted solid sound even up front. It was a cool place to see a show, and a cool show to see. I felt like I’d won just by virtue of being there.

Of course, that feeling only amplified once Gozu went on. Back less than a month from a European tour that took them from Roadburn, where they destroyed, to Desertfest Berlin, they were still in excellent form, and while it was early, they got a hero’s welcome from the local types present as they ran through a well-oiled set that included the regulars “Irish Dart Fight” and the always-appreciated “Jan-Michael Vincent,” as well as the Locust Season closer “Alone” to round out. That song, slower, longer, distinct from a lot of Gozu‘s other material, seemed to show particularly how much fun bassist Joe Grotto and drummer Mike Hubbard are apparently having in the rhythm section. Their styles are well-suited to each other, Hubbard‘s seemingly inherent swing a vast departure from former drummer Barry Spillberg (Wargasm)’s metallized precision. Grotto rides those grooves well, and as Gozu are probably the band I’ve seen most since moving to the area last year, I’ve dug being able to watch that dynamic develop.

It wasn’t a particularly long set, but it was precise, and guitarists Marc Gaffney and Doug Sherman offered crunch tones and shredded leads to start the night off right. It was Tuesday — as one ultra-clever showgoer near the front would tell Scott Hill later, it was “Fu-Manchuesday” — so I don’t know how many people were in it for a party to start out, but Gozu laid the foundation for one anyway and their tightness gave Electric Citizen a heavy lead-in. The Ohio foursome had a different vibe, and after checking out their debut EP last year and their newer Light Years Beyond 7″ released for this tour ahead of their first long-player, Sateen, which is due in July, I was curious to see how their retro mindset would play out on stage. There aren’t a lot of bands in the States — at least not nearly as many as seem to be floating around Europe these days — who’ve picked up on what the likes of Graveyard have done to revitalize ’70s heavy. The model is less firmly planted here. I wondered how that might affect Electric Citizen‘s delivery.

In short, it didn’t. I guess between acts like Blood Ceremony, Blues Pills, Jex Thoth, etc., there’s enough for a new band like the Cincinnati troupe to match with their own creative whims in terms of aesthetic. If there was any continuity from Gozu, it was in drummer Nate Wagner‘s swagger and swing, though Electric Citizen put it to more boogie-fied use. On stage, they came across as even more Sabbathian than their recorded material, to the point that I was somewhat surprised to see guitarist Ross Dolan playing through Oranges instead of Laneys, but he got his point across anyway. His leads seemed to do that Iommic double-layer effect, though of course he was only playing once, and well-fringed vocalist Laura Dolan carried the rush-grooves with more than capable melodicism. A more subdued presence, bassist Nick Vogelpohl was the anchor around which the rest of the band boiled, and in addition to “Shallow Water” from the new album, they made a highlight out of the single “Light Years Beyond,” ending their set with its memorable bounce and stomp. The vibe was a bit rawer without the organ that accompanies their recorded output, but Electric Citizen made plenty of new friends anyway.

And, well, Fu Manchu, right? I mean, if you know the band, you know what you’re going to get. For two decades, they’ve been among the top ranks of fuzz purveyors, beaming in riffs from the cosmos to vibe out earthlings everywhere. Their new one, Gigantoid (review here), was the occasion, but as with any band that has such a backlog of killer material, it was really just an all-around celebration of what they do. Highlights? Yeah, there were some. I’ll never, ever, complain about hearing “Boogie Van” live, or “Evil Eye” from 1997’s The Action is Go, or anything from 1996’s In Search Of…, from which “The Falcon Has Landed” and “Regal Begal” were aired, but seriously, it was Fu Manchu. Whatever they wanted to play, they’ve got more than enough to fill a set. Dudes up front kept yelling for “Hotdoggin'” from 2000’s King of the Road — guitarist/vocalist Scott Hill finally had to address it: “We’re probably not gonna play ‘Hotdoggin’,’ that’s right, I’m the asshole” — but who was about to argue with “Weird Beard” or “Hell on Wheels?” Nobody, if the crowd-surfing and moshing were anything to go by. Further proof that picking tunes for the set is best left to the professionals.

That said, there were a couple requests honored as the Fu tore through their planned set. “Weird Beard” was one, and “Superbird” from the band’s 1994 debut, No One Rides for Free (recently reissued on vinyl; review here), was another, and they broke it out like it was nothing. “Oh yeah, here’s a 20-year-old song that we had no intention of playing, watch us completely nail it.” So, playing in front of a backdrop of the Keiron Copper cover art and Peder Bergstrand logo for Gigantoid the band did leave a bit of room before closing out with “King of the Road,” leaving stage and coming back for an encore of “Saturn III” from The Action is Go, the song seeming in context like a jammy precursor to the new album’s finale, “The Last Question,” guitarist Bob Balch swirling out effects while Brad Davis and Scott Reeder held down the groove and Hill headbanged like a man with stock in Advil. They didn’t play “The Last Question” — no need to double up on the jam — but “Invaders on My Back,” “Dimension Shifter,” “Triplanetary” and “Anxiety Reducer” represented the new album well. I’d been hoping for “Radio Source Sagittarius,” but again, there’s that issue of there simply being too much Fu Manchu for one show. They should do two nights in every city they play.

Vinyl for Gigantoid, which the band has released on their own At the Dojo Records label, is reportedly forthcoming, though they had No One Rides for Free at the merch table. I bought a CD of the new record and made my way back out into a chilly spring night to walk down the block to where I parked. It wasn’t too long before I cracked open that copy of Gigantoid and put it on, either. Some bands, you just can’t get enough.

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I’ve had some pretty landmark good times at Small Stone showcases over the last 10 or so years. Some of them — admittedly, the more recent ones — I’ve even remembered. The last one in Massachusetts was 2012 at Radio in Somerville (review here) was a monster, and as my first time in the upstairs room at the Middle East in Cambridge, I can’t imagine a more fitting occasion. A six-band bill with a shared love of riffs and a record label in common, it was a front-to-back night of volume, distortion, and groove, and from Neon Warship through Roadsaw, Gozu, Lo-Pan, Wo Fat and Mellow Bravo, there was no letup. No moment when you’d want to go outside and smoke or get some air. No moment when the place to be wasn’t in front of the stage.

That’s rare enough when three acts are playing, let alone twice as many. The same lineup minus Mellow Bravo and plus Geezer would play the next night at St. Vitus bar in Brooklyn, but as I had family coming north Saturday and zero dollars for gas, this was my fix. Parking in Cambridge on a Friday night is a singular joy between what’s campus housing for this or that elite-perpetuation factory and other sundry restrictions, but I found a spot and made it into the Middle East well enough in advance of Neon Warship starting off the night. Here’s how it went down from there:

Neon Warship

Of all the acts who’d take stage Friday night, Neon Warship were the most recent addition to the label’s roster. Picked up late in 2013, the Dayton, Ohio, three-piece gave a taste of Small Stone to come with their steady rolling riffs and the post-The Sword vocal stylings of guitarist Kevin Schindel, who when he hit into his higher register made up for some of Freedom Hawk‘s absence from the bill. It was my first exposure to them live, though their 2013 self-titled debut had made an impression, and though they’ve been a band for three years, they came across initially as still getting their feet under them on stage. They were well received by what was rightly a friendly crowd, however, and flourished as their set progressed, getting more comfortable as they went on. It was short sets for everybody, however, so just as Neon Warship were hitting their stride, they were also wrapping up. I doubt it’ll be my last encounter with them, and I’d be interested to see them go longer and have more of a chance to engage the audience. They seemed to be headed in that direction.

Roadsaw

I knew when I left the house that it was going to be an evening of top-notch guitar work. What I didn’t realize was that Ian Ross of Roadsaw was going to meet the quota on his own. Don’t get me wrong — situated as early headliners no doubt to bring in the local crowd early and get them drinking; a nefarious plot that worked wonders — all of Roadsaw was on fire, including new drummer Kyle Rasmussen (Phantom Glue) who recently came aboard to replace Jeremy Hemond for reasons yet undisclosed, but Ross seemed particularly to rise to the occasion that the night presented, and whether he was tearing ass through “The Finger” from 2001’s Rawk ‘n’ Roll or leading the way through the undulating stonerism of “Black Flower,” if it wasn’t the best I’ve ever seen him play, it was certainly close. They finished out with two from their 2011 self-titled (review here) — which at this point is begging for a follow-up — “Long in the Tooth” and “Weight in Gold,” and were nothing if not in headliner form, frontman Craig Riggs sharing a mic with bassist Tim Catz after swinging his enough to dislodge its cable and all four bringing their still-too-short set to a monstrously noisy finish. Sometimes earplugs just don’t matter.

Gozu

Never say never in rock and roll, but at least for the time being this night marked the end of Gozu‘s three-guitar experiment. Lead player Jeff Fultz, who’d pull double-duty with Mellow Bravo, is reportedly on the move out of the area, so there goes that. And while his farewell with Mellow Bravo would be drunker/more emotional later on — he’d been in Mellow Bravo five years, a few months playing with Gozu — it was nonetheless a stellar sendoff. For me, they seemed to affirm the potential for Gozu as a five-piece they showed when I saw this lineup make its debut at the Great Scott back in January (review here), songs like “Irish Dart Fight” and “Meth Cowboy” benefiting both from the extra heft and and still nascent dynamic between Fultz and Doug Sherman‘s soloing. Guitarist/vocalist Marc Gaffney brought his own edge via a Gretsch hollow-body guitar — I don’t play, but if I had the money to spend I’d buy one just to look at it — and Joe Grotto, his foot up on the monitor, was duly animated holding down the low end, while still-relatively-new drummer Mike Hubbard made himself comfortable in the slower, more swinging terrain of “Alone,” the closer from 2010’s Locust Season (review here) and a rare enough inclusion in the set that I don’t think I’d ever seen them play it before. Certainly not since 2013’s The Fury of a Patient Man (review here) was released, anyway. They didn’t get to “Meat Charger,” but “Ghost Wipe” had been a raucous enough opener that all was well. They’re ready to hit Europe next month.

Lo-Pan

Oh, it had been too long. Too long. Not quite a year since they headlined the third Eye of the Stoned Goat fest in Brooklyn (review here), but still, that’s too long to go without seeing Lo-Pan. They played a set comprised almost entirely of new material, songs from the fourth album, Colossus, they’re recording with Andrew Schneider in Brooklyn this week, some I’d heard — “Colossus,” “The Duke” — others that were completely new. Hearing a runthrough of something once live is no way to judge how it will sound on record, but as guitarist Brian Fristoe nestled into the open, winding grooves of his own riffs backed by bassist Scott Thompson and drummer Jesse Bartz while vocalist Jeff Martin soul-man crooned behind, Lo-Pan sounded like Lo-Pan, and yes, I mean that as a compliment. It means the Ohio four-piece have established their sound and know what sides of what they do they want to develop and they’ve set to the work of that. I pulled my earplugs about halfway out for “El Dorado” from 2011’s Salvador (review here), but even the stuff I hadn’t heard before was easy to appreciate. As the hardest-touring band on Small Stone, Lo-Pan lack nothing for presence on stage, and though I almost got cracked in the head by Thompson‘s bass once or twice and when the night was over, I’m pretty sure it was Bartz‘s crash cymbal ringing in my ears, they silver-plattered a reminder of how vital an act they are. It would be premature to say their best days are ahead of them since Colossus is just now in progress, but they showed the room at the Middle East that anything’s possible, even topping Salvador.

Wo Fat

Getting to see Texas trio Wo Fat play a packed room was one of the highlights of my Roadburn 2013 (review here), and with their second Small Stone outing (fifth overall), The Conjuring, on the way, brief as it was, their set was no less enjoyable here. At the same time they’re probably the best advertisement for Texan tourism I can think of, it’s probably also a good thing they’re from so far away, otherwise I’d probably wind up saying something like, “Oh, it’s only 10 hours. That’s not too far to drive to see Wo Fat again.” The TSA had rifled through guitarist/vocalist Kent Stump‘s gear, so they had to set everything up from scratch before they got going, but once they did, it was a weekend’s worth of fuzz condensed and served in a three-song can. Bassist Tim Wilson was dug in deep for “The Conjuring,” which took hold following a noisy transition from “Nameless Cults” from their 2013 Cyclopean Riffs split LP with Egypt (review here) and in turn shifted via jam into “Sleep of the Black Lotus” from 2012’s The Black Code (review here), the whole set coming across as one consistent riff and fuzz fest, grounded by the plod of drummer Michael Walter. Wo Fat are masters of getting the most out of a slow stoner groove and pushing it into or out of a faster rush (“The Conjuring” does this really well), and the swamp-voodoo lyrical themes they’ve paired with their Fu Manchu-worthy tonality fits perfectly. They don’t have Lo-Pan‘s road experience, but like their Ohio compatriots, Wo Fat clearly know what works in their approach. They wrapped up with a big rock finish — no other way to do it, really — and suddenly the night seemed too short…

Mellow Bravo

…But the fact of the matter is when you want to round out a party in Boston, Mellow Bravo are the way to go. As noted, it was guitarist Jeff Fultz‘s last show with the band, and they were in top form to say goodbye. Irrepressibly outspoken frontman Keith Pierce warned the audience that they were going long in his honor, and while the local six-piece left the room thoroughly entertained — aside from borrowing my camera to take a house-lights-up shot of the crowd, I also saw Pierce at the bar at one point, and he finished the set in the audience — it was readily apparent that for them this was more than just another show or even a label showcase. For Pierce, keyboardist/vocalist Jess Collins, guitarist Andrew Doherty, bassist/vocalist Seager Tennis and drummer Dave Jarvis, they were losing a bandmate and a friend and paying him bittersweet tribute. That’s how it felt watching, anyhow. I’ve seen Mellow Bravo a few times at this point, as well as Collins and Pierce in their acoustic side-project, Tastefulnudes (live review here), and while this was hardly the tightest, crispest set I’ve watched from them, they gave the night a suitable finale, more or less starting an afterparty while they were still playing. To say the very least of it, it was worth sticking around for.

Other bands had started to pack up, but there was still a good deal of milling about, drinking, band-bonding, etc. going on. It was just hitting two in the morning, which had the bar in get-the-fuck-out mode, so I hiked the several blocks back to my car made my way home, more than a little bummed to know what I’d be missing the next night in Brooklyn but feeling fortunate to have been able to see the show I did.

More pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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I’ve had my eye out for footage from the latest Saint Vitus East Coast tour more or less since it started, and some has started to surface. The tour ran for three weeks, 21 days exactly, from Oct. 4 to Oct. 25, and along with support from Pallbearer and The Hookers and Gozu, Vitus hit the Middle East in Cambridge on Oct. 15. It was an early show, and a fantastic show (review here), and I felt fortunate to see all the bands, but especially Saint Vitus again, since they’re a group who just a few years ago I never imagined I would hear play live. And with as tight as vocalist Scott “Wino” Weinrich, guitarist Dave Chandler, bassist Mark Adams and drummer Henry Vasquez have gotten over the last couple years and as smoothly as the newer songs from 2012’s Lillie: F-65 (review here) have been integrated with the many classics from the Vitus catalog, it was all the more a pleasure to witness.

Among the cuts that most easily meshed with Vitus‘ legacy material was the single “Let Them Fall.” Shorter than some of the others on Lillie: F-65 and stripped down to its bare structural essentials in the tradition of “Born too Late” or “I Bleed Black,” it made for a perfect single to the album, which came across likewise as a continuation of the spirit of Saint Vitus at their Wino-fronted grittiest. A strong hook, a harsh lyrical righteousness, a slow plod and that tonal “voom” that nobody since Chandler has been able to make come from an amplifier in quite the same way — “Let Them Fall” had everything most essential about 21st century Saint Vitus. It was also the band’s first-ever video, which Chandler mentioned on stage at the Middle East, giving a special fuck-off to the “internet critics” who didn’t get the message of the clip in the process. Hardly a group of people who need to be taken down a peg, but fair enough.

The back of my silly big head is front and center for that rant and the rest of the video below, but other than that, it makes a great addition to Wino Wednesday and I hope that more from this tour begins to show up. Until then, enjoy:

Saint Vitus, “Let Them Fall” Live at the Middle East, Cambridge, MA, Oct. 15, 2013

In 2011, I was fortunate enough to release the limited compact disc version of Blackwolfgoat‘s second album, Dronolith, through The Obelisk’s in-house label, The Maple Forum. The solo-project of then-Hackman guitarist Darryl Shepard — whose formidable curriculum vitae also includes Slaughter Shack, Slapshot, Roadsaw, Milligram, among others, with current tenure in Black Pyramid and The Scimitar — I’d dug Blackwolfgoat‘s Dragonwizardsleeve 2010 debut on Small Stone (review here) and was thrilled to find the second outing was even more progressive and varied. When I heard that Shepard, who’s  also one of the nicest guys you could ever be lucky to meet, was going to be recording a third Blackwolfgoat long-player at Amps vs. Ohms in Cambridge, I took the liberty of inviting myself along to document.

The day started at 11AM. I’d told Darryl that I’d roll in sometime between one and two. I’ve done recording sessions before, seen how it goes, and figuring there’d be a long stretch at the start of getting set up and finding tones, etc., assumed that a delayed arrival would put me in line to catch most of the action — as much as recording a drone record can be considered action. Well, by the time I got to Amps vs. Ohms, the record was about half over. Shepard and engineer Glen Smith had apparently gotten down to business, and were moving along at a more than fair clip. The album, which I’d soon learn is to be titled Drone Maintenance, probably received its biggest interruption yet when I texted Shepard to let him know I’d arrived.

Nonetheless, the guitarist came out to walk me through the building, which was fortunate, since I don’t think I’d ever have made it otherwise. Imagine me, doomed to spend the rest of my days knocking on an endlessly winding succession of dark red doors. More likely I’d get there in time for the fifth album than the third. I was introduced to Smith and watched as the two resumed progress on the record. They played back a song called “Cyclopean Utopia” that Shepard noted was the heaviest track to be included. My head immediately went to “Dronolith,” the 15-minute closer from the last full-length, but “Cyclopean Utopia” was a different beast entirely. Shorter certainly at less than five minutes, it was less of a build and more a dark exploration. He’d add vocals to it later, but it was already plenty crushing; grim with the black metal undertones than have been present throughout Blackwolfgoat‘s first two outings, only more pronounced.

How to counter such a beast? I don’t even know where he pulled it out from, but Shepard grabbed this keyboard that looked like something I used to sell at KB Toys and played a pre-programmed beat for it that was to serve as the bed for a Krautrock-inspired track called “Notausgang” (German for “emergency exit”) that relied on a suitably progressive guitar line. It was the second of three songs I’d hear there — a series of interludes were also recorded, more on that in a bit — and each had a vastly different persona with a thread of experimentation running across them. Shepard said that one of the things he enjoyed most about working with Smith was that things just happened spontaneously that worked really well. He stopped short of calling them “happy accidents,” but that seemed to be the idea, and while one doesn’t often think of a drone album has having much room for spontaneity, watching Darryl stand up to layer a wah solo over the song, as inflexible as the beat was, it was clear that part of the excitement of the material was the process of constructing it.

Best case scenario is that bleeds into the record. It did last time. I obviously won’t pass judgment on Blackwolfgoat‘s third album based on half-finished or at very least unmixed recordings as they’re being captured — it just wouldn’t be fair — but as Shepard listened back to “Notausgang,” the level of enjoyment was clear and the good mood was infectious. It was warm in the control room, a mountain of amps stacked on the wall, an Echoplex on the floor either in working order or not, Shepard on the leopard-print couch and Smith at the board, but there was fun being had, a positive vibe. Honestly, I wouldn’t have expected otherwise. After “Notausgang” was completed to satisfaction, it was time to move onto the acoustic “Fahey,” named in honor of acoustic instrumentalist John Fahey, whose deft finger-work had obviously inspired it.

Shepard plucked engaging, noodling lines on a guitar he said had been loaned to him years ago from Roadsaw‘s Craig Riggs and explained some of the concept behind Drone Maintenance as a scenario concept as Smith set up the mics for him to record in the larger live room. With increasingly chaotic interludes at the beginning, middle and end topped with spoken word pieces written out, the songs will tie together around the idea of the drone itself breaking and needing to be restored. Shepard laughed at the idea of the drone repair man and soon set to work on “Fahey,” which was two smaller parts tied together with a chord between them but sweetly toned and flowing all the same. Two or three takes on the second part went fast — you could hear Darryl breathing on the recording through the studio monitors — and it became readily apparent why I’d missed so much early on. I guess things go quicker when you’re not getting drum sounds, bass sounds, etc. Maybe he should call the record Drone Efficiency instead. Or hell, if you wanted to be consistent with the second record, Dronefficiency.

Whatever Drone Maintenance winds up being in its final form — nothing’s done until it’s done — the material strikes immediately as adventurous. Shepard‘s acoustic foray was followed by the recording of the spoken word parts to complement the interludes. Using a guitar cable as an extension to avoid feedback, Smith hooked a CB-radio-type microphone to a tiny Fender amp for an ultra-blown out effect. Needless to say, much shenanigans ensued while Smith got the levels right to record. I didn’t hear the drones of the interludes themselves until after the fact, with the speech layered in, but when I did, it made even more sense. Shepard had it set up in three parts, each with a corresponding drone. Smith suggested moving the last of the three to the most chaotic instrumental accompaniment and it made a lot of sense with where the story such as it is wound up. I don’t know how it will all turn out or how it will fit in with the other material on the album, but at very least it sounded raw and fucked up, and that was obviously the idea.

Speaking of, after the spoken parts, Shepard went back to add some screams to “Cyclopean Utopia.” If the song is supposed to be about a utopia of or for cyclopses, then surely the layered-in, ambient, sustained screams of “no” indicate some trouble in paradise. I’d never hard his vocals so isolated before — every time I’ve encountered Darryl screaming, he’s had mountains of distortion to back him up — but his voice sounded strong and his throat held up as he tore through no after no. It just as easily could’ve been painful to watch, and in the playback afterwards, they went a long way in adding to the oppressive atmosphere of the track. I don’t know if Shepard‘s gotten more used to screaming owing to his time in Black Pyramid and The Scimitar or what, but the sound was vicious and he clearly knew what he was doing. The idea seemed to be to bury the screams low in the mix, again, for ambience. Easy to imagine the finished product will make for some disturbing audio.

From there, the session started to wind down. It was about 4PM. Darryl had one other guitar part he recorded twice, first dry and clean, and then with distortion, that worked off some similar ideas as “Fahey,” and then was going to take a break before coming back in to do a rough mix with Smith. The actual recording finished, I took it as my cue to split and asked Shepard if he’d be so kind as to guide me back out from whence I came. Daylight hit hard, very much the opposite of “Cyclopean Utopia,” and after shooting the shit for a couple minutes, I said thanks and was on my way. I don’t know what  the plans are for the release of the Blackwolfgoat album, who Darryl will release it through or when, but  I know already it’s one I’m looking forward to hearing when the time comes. If “Fahey,” “Notausgang,” “Cyclopean Utopia” and the other parts I heard are anything to go by, it could be his most expansive outing yet.

Thanks to Shepard and Smith for their time and to you for reading. More pics after the jump.

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Now a trio, Massachusetts bashers The Proselyte will take it to the streets and strut for 10 days solid on an East Coast and Midwestern tour in support of their forthcoming EP, Our Vessel’s in Need. The new release is listed as “coming soon,” and it follows a split with Florida’s Flyingsnakes that you can hear below, courtesy of The Proselyte‘s Bandcamp.

Some cool shows here, and on April 26, The Proselyte play O’Brien’s in Allston, MA, with Holly Hunt, Shroud Eater and Finisher, so good stuff abounds leading to the EP release. Behold the broness:

The Proselyte are welcoming spring with a 10 day run of the east coast and midwest. It’s the band’s first tour as a trio and they will be playing tunes off of their upcoming EP, “Our Vessel’s In Need.” Here is the routing:

Friday April 5th-Philadelphia, PA @ Kung Fu Necktie
Saturday April 6th-RVA @ Wonderland
Sunday April 7th-Chapel Hill, NC @ Chapel Hill Underground
Monday April 8th-Lexington, KY @ Sidecar
Tuesday April 9th-Cincinnati @ Chameleon
Wednesday April 10th-Chicago, IL @ Ultra Lounge
Thursday April 11th-Columbus, OH @ Carabar
Friday April 12th-Baltimore, MD @ Charm City Art Space
Saturday April 13th-Boston, MA @ Great Scott
Sunday April 14th -Brooklyn, NY @ Public Assembly

Check out Facebook.com/theProselyte for updates!

The Proselyte & Flyingsnakes Split 7″