Today is Thursday, but it’s day five of the Fall 2025 Quarterly Review because I snuck in that first day last Friday. I cannot convey to you how much that has screwed me up. Turns out when you do one thing precisely one way for like 13 years and then all of a sudden flip it around another way it can be confusing. Stay tuned for more deep-impact life hacks and insights like this.

Or maybe riffs instead. It’s okay. That’s most of what keeps me coming back too.

Quarterly Review #41-50:

Paradise Lost, Ascension

More than 35 years on from their outset, Paradise Lost are an institution. I know they’ve had their stylistic divergences, but since recommitting themselves to their morose take on doom metal more than 15 years ago, they’ve hit a rare echelon of reliability one can only call Kreator-esque. That’s not a sonic comparison, but like the German thrash stalwarts, Paradise Lost have their sound — dark and more malleable in tempo than the thickened tones make it feel across these 10 songs — and within that sphere are able to do basically what they want musically and make it work. Side A’s “Salvation,” the longest inclusion at seven minutes, is a tour de force of the appeal of modern Paradise Lost, and a fitting summary of how encompassing they’ve become while still remaining recognizable as themselves. They even get hooky on “Deceivers,” so yes, still growing, still pushing, still Paradise Lost. A once-a-generation band, even as part of a cohort as they were, and not to be taken for granted.

Paradise Lost website

Nuclear Blast Records store

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The Vintage Caravan, Portals

The sixth full-length from still-younger-than-some-bands-who-haven’t-been-around-as-long Icelandic heavy rockers The Vintage Caravan plays out across 17 tracks and 59 minutes, with groups of songs presumably corresponding to double-vinyl side splits separated by interludes each of which is named “Portal.” So, Portals. The first of them follows “Philosopher,” the lead single which features Mikael Åkerfeldt, who turns out to be one of several guests across the record, but the real headliner is the songwriting. In the big choruses of “Here You Come Again,” “Give and Take,” and others, the band recall a heyday when rock could be heavy and accessible outside its own sphere, while “Electrified” later on builds into a tense boogie hook before “Portal V” transitions to the acoustic-based “My Aurora” and the closer “This Road,” one more uptempo, shred-inclusive, exceptionally well-crafted piece of The Vintage Caravan‘s classic-heavy-informed style, efficient in getting its point across despite allowing itself time to dwell as it does throughout.

The Vintage Caravan website

Napalm Records website

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Spirit Mother, Songs From the Basin

It’s not really a huge surprise that Los Angeles dark heavy psych rockers Spirit Mother would ‘go acoustic’ at some point, given the dynamic they’ve showcased to-date on their definitely-plugged studio albums. The most recent of those, 2024’s righteous, Heavy Psych Sounds-issued Trails (review here), is the source for “Wolves” and “Below,” which feature on this short, stripped-down offering. “Wolves,” which capped the record in memorable fashion, leads off here with its foreboding feeling all the more realized given the state of the world, while “Below” finds violinist SJ pushing into a soft crescendo taking off from Armand Lance‘s guitar and vocals. Recorded live, Songs From the Basin sounds duly organic, and whenever Spirit Mother in any form — that is, the full band or just the duo as they are here — wants to drop a full acoustic set, I’m here for it. Once again, the lesson is once you have well-written songs, you can make them do and be just about whatever you want.

Spirit Mother website

Spirit Mother on Bandcamp

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Nadja, Cut

I’m pretty sure the now-Berlin-based experimentalist duo of Aidan Baker and Leah Buckareff are north of 30 full-lengths released since their first one in 2002, and that doesn’t count blurring the lines between one project and another with collaborations or Baker‘s solo work. Prolific as they are, they remain expressive in the hard-drum-machined “It’s Cold When You Cut Me” (15:09), one of the four extended inclusions of Cut, where the sinister undercurrent comes to fruition in the song’s second half of manipulated, noisy drone. “Dark, No Knowledge” (13:26) lays out a distorted landscape and rolls through it, Godflesh in a hand-cranked meat grinder, becoming a swell of apocalyptic noise, while “She Ate His Dreams From the Inside and Spat Out the Frozen Fucking Bones” (15:14) dares to be pretty as it leaves spaces open and fills out later with psychedelic processionmaking, leaving the immediate ritual of “Omenformation” to resonate high before piling on low end frequencies while also freakjazzing and riffing out. The noise swallows all but it turns out there’s salvation in that monster’s stomach, so I’ll take it. One Nadja album may be an inevitable precursor to the next one, but that doesn’t mean they don’t make it a world of its own.

Nadja website

Cruel Nature Recordings on Bandcamp

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Vibravoid, Remove the Ties

Düsseldorf-bred psych rockers Vibravoid belong in a class of undervalued all their own. As they mark their 35th anniversary, they begin their new studio album Remove the Ties with a mischievous redirect of krautrock-style electronics before the garage-wavey “Neustart” and pop-shimmerier “Power of Dreams” dig further into the heart of the record, letting side A round out with the longer, deeper-reverbed “Follow Me Follow You” and its effects barrage play out atop the steady kick drum tasked with holding it together. But nobody who’s been in a band for 35 years is about to actually be sloppy, and there’s no actual danger of off-the-rails on Remove the TiesBaby Woodrose roamed the earth. Vibravoid were there then too. It’s easy to get around when you’re from a different dimension.

Vibravoid on Bandcamp

Tonzonen website

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For Fuck’s Sake, 7-Minute Abs/Lobotomy

Do you have six minutes for a good pummeling? Of course you do. Brooklynite four-piece For Fuck’s Sake offer two tracks like a digital punker 7″ with 7-Minute Abs/Lobotomy, and they make no attempt to hide the fact of their sights being set on destruction. Their sound, rooted in hardcore and sludge in like measure, counting in with the snare on “7-Minute Abs” and daring to cross the three-minutes-long threshold with the fervent chug and bone-on-bone impact of “Lobotomy,” reminds of nothing so much as earlier 16, but with an unmistakable edge of Northeastern confrontationalism. That is, they’ll fuck you up and they know it, so that’s what they’re setting out to do. Barking, gnashing intensity set a harsh backdrop for what’s an engaging groove so long as you’re pissed off enough to process it (which you should be; look around), and the rawness of their delivery, the unabashed assault of it, comes through as genuine. Also punishing.

For Fuck’s Sake on Bandcamp

For Fuck’s Sake on Instagram

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Paralyzed, Rumble & Roar

Classic heavy rock and roll forms the core of Paralyzed‘s approach, with guitarist Michael Binder‘s low, gravelly vocals reminiscent of Jim Morrison at his least hinged, suited to the blues behind second cut “Railroad” and the subsequent march of “Rosie’s Town” on the band’s third LP, Rumble & Roar. To say they — that is, Binder, organist/rhythm guitarist Caterina Böhner, bassist Philipp Engelbrecht and drummer Florian Thiele — make it a party across the nine-song/41-minute outing is perhaps understating the case, but if you’d accuse “Heavy Blues” of being too on the nose, you’re missing the fact that on the nose is the point. There’s no irony here, no sneer to the boogie of “White Paper” or the slow organ-laced fluidity of “The Witch,” just heavy vibes and reaffirmation of the band’s growth as songwriters. I’m not even sure where one would start complaining about such a thing.

Paralyzed on Bandcamp

Ripple Music website

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Friendship Commanders, Bear

Delivered as their label-debut for Magnetic Eye Records, the 10-song/40-minute Bear is the fourth full-length from Nashville two-piece Friendship Commanders, with guitarist/vocalist Buick Audra and drummer/bassist/synthesist Jerry Roe having recorded with Kurt Ballou in addition to doing some at home for an affect accordingly tight in craft and heavy in impact. “Melt” pushes toward a ’90s-style reimagining of heavy rock as both commercially viable and empowering, while “X” pairs its tonal crunch with the keyboardy reach of its midsection, poppish but still heavy even unto the snare hits. Pop becomes another tool in their arsenal, whether it’s the layered ascent and push of “New” or the weighted culmination presented with closer “Dead and Discarded Girls,” and the band don’t seem to shy away from being able to compose at the level they are. At the same time, “Dripping Silver” feels fully cognizant of the radness in the riff it’s riding, so there’s a balance to it as well. They sound like professionals.

Friendship Commanders website

Magnetic Eye Records store

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Dee Calhoun, Angry Old Man

Former Iron Man and, as of recently, former Spiral Grave vocalist “Screaming Mad” Dee Calhoun is pissed. The Maryland-based acoustic metal troubadour sounds resolute on Angry Old Man, and while his past solo work could hardly be said to pull punches, he hits a different level of laying it all out there on “Kill a Motherfucker” late in the procession here. As ever, hollow-bodied-resonance is the foundation throughout, but other elements like the harmonica in “Voodoo Queen” and the tolling bell at the outset of “VVitch (A Chant)” (not really a chant) fill out the reaches when Calhoun‘s powerhouse voice — still his primary instrument, though the guitar work has gotten more complex with time as well — recedes to a softer delivery. But when he belts it out — looking at you, “Rise Up to March” — he can shake the ground, and if you have any prior familiarity with his work, you already know he’s unmistakable in that regard. That remains the case here, even as he positions himself the titular Angry Old Man. Ain’t none of us getting any younger, dude.

Dee Calhoun Linktr.ee

Black Doomba Records Linktr.ee

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Automatism, Sörmland

The narrative of the band getting together after a few years, enjoying each other’s company as they wrote and recorded Sörmland — named for where in Sweden they were — becomes real with the mellowprog delve of “Honey Trap” more than the shorter leadoff “Video,” as pastoralia takes centerstage with organic melodies and a casual groove. Unsurprisingly if you know Twin Peaks, “Laura Palmer’s Theme” is darker, but the real reference it’s making seems to be to “Moonlight Sonata” as regards the keys, but “Neon Lights” answers back by being in no hurry whatsoever with sweet intertwining guitar lines and a subtle build to later movement. At 11 minutes, the title-track that caps is the longest inclusion, but fair enough since they have to make room for that tenor sax and all. I wouldn’t know from experience, but Sörmland is what I imagine it would sound like to be emotionally regulated, ever, and anytime Automatism want to get together out in the woods or by some fields or a lake or whathaveyou, I hope someone has the presence of mind to hit record.

Automatism on Bandcamp

Tonzonen website

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Good morning and heavy riffs. Today is day 7 of the Quarterly Review. It’s already been a lot, but there are still 30 more releases to cover over the next three days, so I assure you at some point I’ll have that nervous breakdown that’s been ticking away in the back of my brain. A blast as always, which I mean both sincerely and sarcastically, somehow.

But when we’re done, 100 releases will have been covered, and I get a medal sent to me whenever that happens from the UN’s Stoner Rock Commission on Such Things, so I’ll look forward to that. In the meantime, we’re off.

Quarterly Review #61-70:

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Ufomammut, Hidden

Italian cosmic doomers Ufomammut celebrate their 25th anniversary in 2024, and as they always have, they do so by looking and moving forward. Hidden is the 10th LP in their catalog, the second to feature drummer Levre — who made his debut on 2022’s Fenice (review here) alongside bassist/vocalist Urlo and guitarist Poia (both also keyboards) — and it was preceded by last year’s Crookhead EP (review here), the 10-minute title-track of which is repurposed as the opener here. A singular, signature blend of heft and synth-based atmospherics, Ufomammut roll fluidly through the six-tracker check-in, and follow on from Fenice in sounding refreshed while digging into their core stylistic purposes. “Spidher” brings extra tonal crush around its open verse, and “Mausoleum” has plenty of that as well but is less condensed and hypnotic in its atmospheric midsection, Ufomammut paying attention to details while basking in an overarching largesse. The penultimate “Leeched” was the lead single for good reason, and the four-minute “Soulost” closes with a particularly psychedelic exploration of texture and drone with the drums keeping it moving. 25 years later and there’s still new things to discover. I hear the universe is like that.

Ufomammut website

Supernatural Cat website

Neurot Recordings website

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Insect Ark, Raw Blood Singing

Considering some of the places Dana Schechter has taken Insect Ark over the project’s to-date duration, most of Raw Blood Singing might at times feel daringly straightforward, but that’s hardly a detriment to the material itself. Songs like “The Hands” bring together rhythmic tension and melodic breadth, as soundscapes of drone, low end chug and the drumming of Tim Wyskida (also Khanate, Blind Idiot God) cast a morose, encompassing atmospheric vision. And rest assured, while “The Frozen Lake” lumbers through its seven minutes of depressive post-sludge — shades of The Book of Knots at their heaviest, but still darker — and “Psychological Jackal” grows likewise harsher and horrific, the experimentalist urge continues to resonate; the difference is it’s being set to serve the purposes of the songs themselves in “Youth Body Swayed” or “Cleaven Hearted,” which slogs like death-doom with a strum cutting through to replace vocals, whereas the outro “Ascension” highlights the noise on its own. It is a bleak, consuming course presented over Raw Blood Singing‘s 45 minutes, but there’s solace in the catharsis as well.

Insect Ark website

Debemur Murti Productions website

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Heath, Isaak’s Marble

Laced through with harmonica and organic vibes, Netherlands-based five-piece Heath make their full-length debut with the four extended tracks of Isaak’s Marble, reveling in duly expansive jams keyed for vibrancy and a live sound. They are somewhat the band-between as regards microgenres, with a style that can be traced on the opening title-cut to heavy ’70s funk-boogie-via-prog-rock, and the harmonica plays a role there before spacing out with echo over top of the psychedelia beginning of “Wondrous Wetlands.” The wetlands in question, incidentally, might just be the guitar tone, but that haze clears a bit as the band saunters into a light shuffle jam before the harder-hitting build into a crescendo that sounds unhinged but is in fact quite under control as it turns back to a softshoe-ready groove with organ, keys, harmonica, guitar all twisting around with the bass and drums. Sitar and vocal harmonies give the shorter-at-six-minutes “Strawberry Girl” a ’60s psych-pop sunshine, but the undercurrent is consistent with the two songs before as Heath highlight the shroomier side of their pastoralism, ahead of side B capper “Valley of the Sun” transitioning out of that momentary soundscape with clear-eyed guitar and flute leading to an angular progression grounded by snare and a guitar solo after the verse that leads the shift into the final build. They’re not done, of course, as they bring it all to a rousing end and some leftover noise; subdued in the actual-departing, but still resonant in momentum and potential. These guys might just be onto something.

Heath website

Suburban Records store

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The Cosmic Dead, Infinite Peaks

The Cosmic Dead, releasing through Heavy Psych Sounds, count Infinite Peaks as their ninth LP since 2011. I’ll take them at their word since between live offerings, splits, collections and whatnot, it’s hard sometimes to know what’s an album. Similarly, when immersed in the 23-minute cosmic sprawl of “Navigator #9,” it can become difficult to understand where you stop and the universe around you begins. Rising quickly to a steady, organ-inclusive roll, the Glaswegian instrumental psilocybinists conjure depth like few of their jam-prone ilk and remain entrancing as “Navigator #9” shifts into its more languid, less-consuming middle movement ahead of the resurgent finish. Over on side B, “Space Mountain” (20:02) is a bit more drastic in the ends it swaps between — a little noisier and faster up front, followed by a zazzy-jazzy push with fiddle and effects giving over to start-stop bass and due urgency in the drums complemented by fuzz like they just got in a room and this happened before the skronky apex and unearthly comedown resolve in a final stretch of drone. Ninth record or 15th, whatever. Their mastery of interstellar heavy exploration is palpable regardless of time, place or circumstance. Infinite Peaks glimpses at that dimensional makeup.

The Cosmic Dead website

Heavy Psych Sounds website

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The Watchers, Nyctophilia

Perhaps telegraphing some of their second long-player’s darker intentions in the cover art and the title Nyctophilia — a condition whereby you’re happier and more comfortable in darkness — if not the choice of Max Norman (Ozzy Osbourne, Death Angel, etc.) to produce, San Francisco’s The Watchers are nonetheless a heavy rock and roll band. What’s shifted in relation to their 2018 debut, Black Abyss (review here), is the angle of approach they take in getting there. What hasn’t changed is the strength of songwriting at their foundation or the hitting-all-their-marks professionalism of their execution, whether it’s Tim Narducci bringing a classic reach to the vocals of “Garden Tomb” or the precise muting in his and Jeremy Von Epp‘s guitars and Chris Lombardo‘s bass on “Haunt You When I’m Dead” and Nick Benigno‘s declarative kickdrum stomping through the shred of “They Have No God.” The material lands harder without giving up its capital-‘h’ Heavy, which is an accomplishment in itself, but The Watchers set a high standard last time out and Nyctophilia lives up to that while pursuing its own semi-divergent ends.

The Watchers on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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Juke Cove, Tempest

Leipzig’s Juke Cove follow a progressive course across eight songs and 44 minutes of Tempest, between nodding riffs of marked density and varying degrees of immediacy, whether it’s the might-just-turn-around-on-you “Hypnosis” early on or the shove with which the duly brief penultimate piece “Burst” takes off after the weighted crash of and ending stoner-rock janga-janga riff of “Glow” and precedes the also-massive “Xanadu” in the closing position, capping with a fuzzy solo because why not. From opener “The Path” into the bombast of “Hypnosis” and the look-what-we-can-make-riffs-do “Wait,” the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Mateusz Pietrzela, bassist/vocalist Dima Ogorodnov and drummer Maxim Balobin mine aural individualism from familiar-enough genre elements, shaping material of character that benefits from the scope wrought in tone and production. Much to its credit, Tempest feels unforced in speaking to various sides of its persona, and no matter where a given song might go — the watery finish of “Wait” or the space-blues drift that emerges out of psych-leaning noise rock on “Confined,” for example — Juke Cove steer with care and heart alike and are all the more able to bring their audience with them as a result. Very cool, and no, I’m not calling them pricks when I say that.

Juke Cove on Facebook

Juke Cove on Bandcamp

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Laurel Canyon, East Side EP

A little more than a year out from their impressive self-titled debut LP (review here), Philly three-piece Laurel Canyon — guitarist/bassist/vocalist Nicholas Gillespie, guitarist/vocalist Serg Cereja, drummer Dylan DePice — offer the East Side three-songer to follow-up on the weighted proto-grunge vibes therein. “East Side” itself, at two and a half minutes, is a little more punk in that as it aligns for a forward push in the chorus between its swaggering verses, while “Garden of Eden” is more directly Nirvana-schooled in making its well-crafted melody sound like something that just tumbled out of somebody’s mouth, pure happenstance, and “Untitled” gets more aggressive in its second half, topping a momentary slowdown/nod with shouts before they let it fall apart at the end. This procession takes place in under 10 minutes and by the time you feel like you’ve got a handle on it, they’re done, which is probably how it should be. East Side isn’t Laurel Canyon‘s first short release, and they’re clearly comfortable in the format, bolstering the in-your-face-itude of their style with a get-in-and-get-out ethic correspondingly righteous in its rawness.

Laurel Canyon on Facebook

Agitated Records website

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Tet, Tet

If you hadn’t yet come around to thinking of Poland among Europe’s prime underground hotspots, Tet offer their four-song/45-minute self-titled debut for your (re-)consideration. With its lyrics and titles in Polish, Tet draws on the modern heavy prog influence of Elder in some of the 12-minute opener/longest track (immediate points), “Srebro i antracyt,” but neither that nor “Dom w cieniu gruszy,” which follows, stays entirely in one place for the duration, and the lush melody that coincides with the unfolding of “Wiosna” is Tet‘s own in more than just language; that is to say, there’s more to distinguish them from their influences than the syllabic. Each inclusion adds complexity to the story their songs are telling, and as closer “Włóczykije” gradually moves from its dronescape by bringing in the drums unveiling the instrumentalist build already underway, Tet carve a niche for themselves in one of the continent’s most crowded scenes. I wonder if they’ve opened for Weedpecker. They could. Or Belzebong, for that matter. Either way, it will be worth looking out for how they expand on these ideas next time around.

Tet linktr.ee

Tet on Bandcamp

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Aidan Baker, Everything is Like Always Until it is Not

Aidan Baker, also of Nadja, aligns the eight pieces of what I think is still his newest outing — oh wait, nope; this came out in Feb. and in March he had an hour-long drone two-songer out; go figure/glad I checked — to represent the truism of the title Everything is Like Always Until it is Not, and arranges the tracks so that the earlier post-shoegaze in “Everything” or “Like” can be a preface for the more directly drone-based “It” “Is” later on. And yes, there are two songs called “Is.” Does it matter? Definitely not while Baker‘s evocations are actually being heard. Free-jazz drums — not generally known for a grounding effect — do some work in terms of giving all the float that surrounds them a terrestrial aspect, but if you know Baker‘s work either through his solo stuff, Nadja or sundry other collaborations, I probably don’t need to tell you that the 47 minutes of Everything is Like Always Until it is Not fall into the “not like always” category as a defining feature, whether it’s “Until” manifesting tonal heft in waves of static cut through by tom-to-snare-to-cymbal splashes or “Not” seeming unwilling to give itself over to its own flow. I imagine a certain restlessness is how Aidan Baker‘s music happens in the first place. You get smaller encapsulations of that here, if not more traditional accessibility.

Aidan Baker on Facebook

Cruel Nature Recordings on Bandcamp

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Trap Ratt, Tribus Rattus Mortuus

Based in the arguable capitol of the Doom Capitol region — Frederick, Maryland — the three-piece Trap Ratt arrive in superbly raw style with the four-song/33-minute Tribus Rattus Mortuus, the last of which, aptly-titled “IV,” features Tim Otis (High Noon Kahuna, Admiral Browning, etc.), who also mixed and mastered, guesting on noise while Charlie Chaplin’s soliloquy from 1940’s The Dictator takes the place of the tortured barebones shouts that accompany the plod of 13-minute opener/longest track (immediate points) “The Sacred Skunk,” seemingly whenever they feel like it. That includes the chugging part before the feedback gets caustic near the song’s end, by the way. “Thieving From the Grieving” — which may or may not have been made up on the spot — repurposes Stooges-style riffing as the foundation for its own decay into noise, and if from anything I’ve said so far about the album you might expect “Take the Gun” to not be accordingly harsh, Trap Ratt have a word and eight minutes of disaffected exploration they’d like to share with you. It’s not every record you could say benefits aesthetically from being recorded live in the band’s rehearsal space, but yes, Tribus Rattus Mortuus most definitely does.

Trap Ratt on Facebook

Trap Ratt on Bandcamp

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