Welcome back to the Quarterly Review. Just because it’s a new week, I’ll say again the idea here is to review 10 releases — albums, EPs, the odd single if I feel like there’s enough to say about it — per day across some span of days. In this case, the Quarterly Review goes to 70. Across Monday to Friday last week, 50 new, older and upcoming offerings were written up and today and tomorrow it’s time to wrap it up. I fly out to Roadburn on Wednesday.

Accordingly, you’ll pardon if I spare the “how was your weekend?”-type filler and jump right in instead. Let’s. Go.

Quarterly Review #51-60:

Megaritual, Recursion

Last heard from in 2017, exploratory Australian psychedelic solo outfit Megaritual — most often styled all-lowercase: megaritual — returns with the aptly-titled Recursion, as multi-instrumentalist, vocalist and producer Dale Paul Walker taps expansive kosmiche progressivisim across nine songs and 42 minutes. If you told me these tracks, which feel streamlined compared to the longer-form work Walker was doing circa 2017, had been coming together since that time, the depth of the arrangements and the way each cut comes across as its own microcosm within the greater whole bears that out, be it the winding wisps of “Tres Son Multitud” or the swaying echoey bliss of later highlight “The Jantar Mantar.” I don’t know if that’s the case or it isn’t, but the color in this music alone makes it one of the best records I’ve heard in 2025, and I can’t get away from thinking some of the melody and progressive aspects comes from metal like Opeth, so yeah. Basically, it’s all over the place and wonderful. Thanks for reading.

Megaritual on Bandcamp

Echodelick Records website

Psychedelic Salad Records store

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Red Eye, III

Slab-heavy riffage from Andalusian three-piece Red Eye‘s III spreads itself across a densely-weighted but not monolithic — or at least not un-dynamic or unipolar — eight songs, as a switch between shouted and more melodic vocals early on between the Ufomammut-esque “Sagittarius A*” (named for the black hole at the Milky Way’s center; it follows the subdued intro “Ad Infinitum”) and the subsequent, doomier in a Pallbearer kind of way “See Yourself” gives listeners an almost-immediate sense of variety around the wall-o’-tone lumbering fuzz that unites those two and so much else throughout as guitarist/vocalist Antonio Campos del Pino, bassist/synthesist Antonio Pérez Muriel and drummer/synthesist/vocalist Pablo Terol Rosado veer between more and less aggressive takes. “No Morning After” renews the bash, “Beyond” makes it a party, “Stardust” uses that momentum to push the tempo faster and “Nebula” makes it swing into the Great Far Out before “The Nine Billion Names of God” builds to a flattening crescendo. Intricate in terms of style and crushingly heavy. Easy win.

Red Eye’s Linktr.ee

Discos Macarras Records website

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Temple of the Fuzz Witch & Seum, Conjuring

Even by the respective standards of the bands involved — and considering the output of Detroit grit-doomers Temple of the Fuzz Witch and Montreal sans-guitar scathemakers Seum to this point, it’s a significant standard — Conjuring is some nasty, nasty shit. Presented through Black Throne Productions with manic hand-drawn cover art that reminds of Midwestern pillsludge circa 2008, the 27-minute split outing brings three songs from each outfit, and maybe it’s the complementary way Seum‘s low-end picks up from the grueling, chugging, and finally rolling fare Temple of the Fuzz Witch provide, but both acts come through as resoundingly, willfully, righteously bleak. You know how at the dentist they let you pick your flavor of toothpaste? This is like that except surprise you just had all your teeth pulled. It only took half-an-hour, but now you need to figure out what to do with your dazed, gummy self. Good luck.

Seum on Bandcamp

Temple of the Fuzz Witch on Bandcamp

Black Throne Productions website

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Uncle Woe, Folded in Smoke, Soaked and Bound

Uncle Woe offer two eight-minutes-each tracks on the new EP, Folded in Smoke, Soaked and Bound, as project founder/spearhead Rain Fice (in Canada) and collaborator Marc Whitworth (in Australia) bring atmosphere and grace to underlying plod. It’s something of a surprise when “One is Obliged” relatively-speaking solidifies at about five minutes in around vocal soar, which is an effective, emotional moment in a song that seems to be mourning even as it grows broader moving toward the finish. “Of Symptoms and Waves” impresses vocally as well, deep in the mix as the vocals are, but feels more about the darker prog metal-type stretch that unfolds from about the halfway point on. But what’s important to note is these plays on genre are filtered through Uncle Woe‘s own aesthetic vision, and so this short outing becomes both lush and raw for the obvious attention to its sonic details and the overarching melancholy that belongs so much to the band. A well-appreciated check-in.

Uncle Woe on Bandcamp

Uncle Woe’s Linktr.ee

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Negative Reaction, Salvaged From the Kuiper Belt

I would not attempt to nor belittle the band’s accomplishments by trying to summarize 35 years of Negative Reaction in this space, but as the West-Virginia-by-way-of-Long-Island unit led by its inimitable principal/guitarist/vocalist Ken-E Bones mark this significant occasion, the collection Salvaged From the Kuiper Belt provides 16 decades-spanning tracks covering sundry eras of the band. I haven’t seen a liner, so I don’t even know the number of players involved here, but Bones has been through several incarnations of Negative Reaction at this point, so when “NOD” steamrollers and later pieces like “Mercy Killing” and the four-second highlight “Stick o’ Gum” are more barebones in their punksludge, it makes sense in context. Punk, psych, sludge, raw vocals — these have always been key ingredients to Negative Reaction‘s often-harsh take, and it’s a blend that’s let them endure beyond trend, reason, or human kindness. Congrats to Bones, whom I consider a friend of long-standing, and many more.

Negative Reaction on Bandcamp

Negative Reaction on Facebook

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Fomies, Liminality

Given how many different looks Fomies present on Liminality, and how movement-based so much of it is between the uptempo proto-punk, krauty shuffle and general sense of push — not out of line with the psych of the modern age, but too weird not to be its own spin — it feels like mellower opener “The Onion Man” is its own thing at the front of the album; a mellower lead-in to put the listener in a more preferred mindset (on the band’s part) to enjoy what follows. This is artfully done, as is the aforementioned “what follows,” as the band thoughtfully boogie through the three-part “Colossus,” find a moment for frenetic fuzz via Gary Numan in “Neon Gloom,” make even the two-and-a-half-minute “Happiness Relay” a show of chemistry, finish in a like-minded tonal fullness with “Upheaval,” and engage with decades of motorik worship without losing themselves more than they want to in the going. At 51 minutes, Liminality is somewhat heady, but that’s inherent to the style as well, and the band’s penchant for adventure comes through smoothly alongside all that super-dug-in vibing.

Fomies on Bandcamp

Taxi Gauche Records website

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The Long Wait, The Long Wait

Classic Boston DGAF heavy riff rock, and if you hear a good dose of hardcore in amid the swing and shove, The Long Wait‘s self-titled debut comes by it honestly. The five-piece of vocalist Glen Dudley (Wrecking Crew), guitarist Darryl Shepard (Kind, Milligram, Slapshot, etc.) and Steven Risteen (Slapshot), bassist Jaime Sciarappa (SSD, Slapshot) and drummer Mark McKay (Slapshot) plunder through nine cuts. Certainly elbows are out, but considering where they’re coming from, it’s not an overly aggressive sound. Hardcore dudes have been veering into heavier riffing à la “Uncharted Greed” or “FWM” for the last 35 years, so The Long Wait feels well in line with a tradition that some of these guys helped set in the first place as it revisits songs from 2023’s demo and expands outward from there, searching for and beginning to find its own interpretation of what “bullshit-free” means in terms of the band’s craft.

The Long Wait on Bandcamp

The Long Wait’s Facebook group

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Babona, Az Utolsó Választás Kora

Since 2020, Miskolc, Hungary-based solo-band Babona have released three EPs, a couple singles and now two full-lengths, with Az Utolsó Választás Kora (‘the age of the last choice’) as the second album from multi-instrumentalist and producer Tamás Rózsa. Those with an appreciation for the particular kind of crunch Eastern Europe brings to heavy rock will find the eight-tracker a delight in the start-stops of “2/3” and the vocals-are-sampled-crying-and-laughing “A Rendszer Rothadása,” which digs into its central riff with suitable verve. The later “Kormányalakítás” hints at psych — something Rózsa has fostered going back to 2020 with Ottlakán, from whom Babona seems to have sprung — and the album isn’t without humor as a crowing rooster snaps the listener out of that song’s trance in the transition to the ambient post-rocker “Frakció,” but when it’s time to get to business, Rózsa caps with “Pártatlan” as a grim, sludgy lumber that holds its foreboding mood even into its own comedown. That’s not the first time Az Utolsó Választás Kora proves deceptively immersive.

Babona on Bandcamp

Babona on Facebook

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Sutras, The Crisis of Existence

Sit tight, because it’s about to get pretty genre-nerdy. Sutras, the Washington D.C.-based two-piece of Tristan Welch (vocals/guitar) and Frederick Ashworth (drums/bass) play music that is psychedelic and heavy, but with a strong foundation specifically in post-hardcore. Their term for it is ‘Dharma punk,’ which is enough to make me wonder if there’s a krishna-core root here, but either way, The Crisis of Existence feels both emotive and ethereal as the duo bring together airy guitar and rhythmic urgency, raw, sometimes gang-shouted vocals, and arrangements that feel fluid whether it’s the rushing post-punk (yeah, I know: so much ‘post-‘; I told you to sit tight) of “Racing Sundown” or the denser push of “Bloom Watch” or the swing brought to that march in “Working Class Devotion.” They cap the 19-minute EP with posi-vibes in “Being Nobody, Going Nowhere,” which provides one last chance for their head-scratching-on-paper sound to absolutely, totally work, as it does. The real triumph here, fists in the air and all that, is that it sounds organic.

Sutras on Bandcamp

Sutras on Instagram

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Sleeping in Samsara, Sleeping in Samsara

The story of Sleeping in Samsara‘s self-titled two-songer as per Christian Peters (formerly Samsara Blues Experiment, currently Fuzz Sagrado, etc.) is that in 2023, My Sleeping Karma drummer Steffen Weigand reached out with an interest in collaborating as part of a solo-project Weigand was developing. Weigand passed away in June 2023, and “Twilight Again” and “Downtime,” with underlying basic tracks from Weigand in drums, keys/synth, and rhythm guitar, and Peters adding lead guitar, vocals, bass in the latter, the songs are unsurprising in their cohesion only when one considers the fluidity wrought by both parties in their respective outfits, and though the loss of Weigand of course lends a bittersweet cast, that this material has seen the light of day at all feels like a tribute to his life and cretive drive.

Fuzz Sagrado website

Electric Magic Records on Bandcamp

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I wouldn’t say we’re in the home stretch yet, but this 100-release Quarterly Review is more than three-quarters done after today, so I guess it’s debatable. In any case, we proceed. I hope you’ve enjoyed what’s been on offer so far. Yesterday was a little manic, but I got there. Today, tomorrow, I expect much the same. The order of things, as that one Jem’Hadar liked to say.

Quarterly Review #71-80:

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Bongripper, Empty

Eight albums and the emergence of a microgenre cast partly in their image later, it would take a lot for Chicago ultra-crush instrumentalists Bongripper to surprise their listenership, at least as regards their basic approach. If you think that’s a bad thing, fine, but I’d put the 66 minutes of Empty forward to argue otherwise. Six years after 2018’s two-song LP Terminal (review here) — with a live record and single between — the four new songs of Empty dare to sneakily convey a hopeful message in the concave tracklisting: “Nothing” (20:40), “Remains’ (12:04), “Forever” (12:43), “Empty” (21:24). That message might be what’s expressed in the echoing post-metallic lead guitar on the finale and the organ on the prior “Forever,” or, frankly, it might not. Because in the great, lumbering, riffy morass that is their sound, there’s room for multiple interpretations as well as largesse enough to accommodate the odd skyscraper, so take it as you will. Just because you might go into it with some idea of what’s coming doesn’t mean you won’t get flattened.

Bongripper on Facebook

Bongripper BigCartel store

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Destroyer of Light, Degradation Years

My general policy as regards “last” records is to never say never until everybody’s holograms have been deleted, but the seven songs and 39 minutes of Degradation Years represent an ending for Destroyer of Light just the same, and the Austin-based troupe end as they began, which is by not being the band people expected them to be. Their previous long-player, 2022’s Panic (review here), dug into atmospheric doom in engrossing fashion, and Degradation Years presents not-at-all-their-first pivot, with post-punk atmospherics and ’90s-alt melodies on “Waiting for the End” and heavy drift on “Perception of Time.” “Failure” is duly sad, where the shorter, riffier “Blind Faith” shreds and careens heading into its verse, and the nine-minute “Where I Cannot Follow” gives Pallbearer‘s emotive crux a look on the way to its airy tremolo finish. Guitarist/vocalist Steve Colca has a couple other nascent projects going, guitarist Keegan Kjeldsen and drummer Kelly Turner are in Slumbering Sun, and Mike Swarbrick who plays bass here is in Cortége, but Destroyer of Light always stood on their own, and they never stopped growing across their 12-year run. Job well done.

Destroyer of Light on Facebook

Destroyer of Light on Bandcamp

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Castle Rat, Into the Realm

If you take away the on-stage theatricality, the medieval/horror fetish play, and all the hype, what you’re left with on Castle Rat‘s first album, Into the Realm is a solid collection of raw, classic-styled doom rock able to account for the Doors-y guitar in the quiet strum of the gets-heavy-later “Cry for Me” as well as the shrieks of “Fresh Fur” and opener “Dagger Dragger,” the nod and chug of “Nightblood” and the proto-metal of “Feed the Dream” via three interludes spaced out across its brief 32-minute stretch. Of course, taking away the drama, the sex, and aesthetic cultistry is missing part of the point of the band in the first place, but what I’m saying is that Into the Realm has more going for it than the fact that the band are young and good looking, willing to writhe, and thus marketable. They could haunt Brooklyn basements for the next 15-20 years or go tour with Ghost tomorrow, I honestly have no clue about their ambitions or goals in that regard, but their songs present a strong stylistic vision in accord with their overarching persona, resonating with a fresh generational take and potential progression. That’s enough on its own to make Into the Realm one of the year’s most notable debuts.

Castle Rat on Instagram

King Volume Records store

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Temple of the Fuzz Witch, Apotheosis

With their third full-length and first for Ripple Music, Detroit trio Temple of the Fuzz Witch — guitarist/vocalist Noah Bruner (also synth), bassist Joe Peet and drummer Taylor Christian — follow their 2020 offering, Red Tide (review here), with a somewhat revamped imagining of who they are. Apotheosis — as high as you can get — introduces layers of harsh vocals and charred vibes amid the consuming lumber of its tonality, still cultish in atmosphere but heavier in its ritualizing and darker. The screams work, and songs like “Nephilim” benefit from Bruner‘s ability to shift from clean to harsh vocals there and across the nine-songer’s 39 minutes, and while there’s plenty of slog, a faster song like “Bow Down” stands out all the more from the grim, somehow-purple mist in which even the spacious midsection of “Raze” seems to reside. The bottom line is if you think you knew who they were or you judged them as a bong-metal tossoff because of their silly name, you’re already missing out. If you’re cool with that, fair enough. It’s not my job to sell you records anyway.

Temple of the Fuzz Witch on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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State of Non Return, White Ink

Among the final releases for Trepanation Recordings, White Ink is the years-in-the-making first LP from Bologna, Italy’s State of Non Return — and if you’re hearing a dogwhistle in their moniker for meditative fare because that’s also the name of an Om song, you’re neither entirely correct or incorrect. From the succession of the three circa-nine-minutes-each cuts “Catharsis,” “Vertigo” and “White Ink,” the trio harness a thoughtful take on brooding desert nod, with “Vertigo” boasting some more aggro-tinged shouts ahead of the chug in its middle building on the spoken word of the opener, and the intro to the title-track building into a roll of tempered distortion that offers due payoff in its sharp-edged leads and hypnotic repetitions, to the 15-minute finale “Pendulum” that offers due back and forth between minimal spaces and full-on voluminosity before taking off on an extended linear build to end, the focus is more on atmosphere than spiritual contemplation, and State of Non Return find individualism in moody contemplation and the tension-release of their heaviest moments. Some bands grow into their own sound over time. State of Non Return, who got together in 2016, seem to have spent at least some of that span of years since doing the legwork ahead of this release.

State of Non Return on Facebook

Trepanation Recordings on Bandcamp

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Thief, Bleed, Memory

Writing and recording as a solo artist under the banner of Thief — there’s a band for stage purposes — Los Angeles-based multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Dylan Neal (also Botanist) pulls back from the ’90s-attitudinal industrial and nü-metal flirtations of 2021’s The 16 Deaths of My Master (review here) and reroutes the purpose toward more emotive atmospheric ends. Sure, “Dead Coyote Dreams” still sneaks out of its house to smoke cigarettes at night, and that’s cool forever and you know it, but with an urgent beat behind it, “Cinderland” opens to a wash that is encompassing in ways Thief had little interest in being three years ago, despite working with largely similar elements blending electronica, synth, and organic instrumentation. The narrative — blessings and peace upon it — holds that Neal‘s father’s onset of dementia inspired the turn, and that’s certainly reason enough if you need a reason, but if there’s processing taking place over the 12 inclusions and 44 minutes that Bleed, Memory spans, along with its allusions to James Joyce, Vladimir Nabokov, etc., that does not at all make the work feel anymore lost than it’s intended to be in the post-techno of “Paramnesia” or the wub-and-shimmer of “To Whom it May Concern” that rounds out. I’ll allow that being of a certain age might make it more relatable.

Thief on Facebook

Prophecy Productions website

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Ravens, Ravens

New Jersey’s Ravens mark their first public offering with this seven-song self-titled debut, spacious in its vocal echo and ostensibly led by riffs though that doesn’t necessarily mean the guitar is foremost in the mix throughout. The guitar/drum duo of Zack Kurland (Green Dragon, ex-Sweet Diesel, etc.) and drummer Chris Daly (Texas is the Reason, Resurrection, etc.) emerges out of the trio Altered States with grounded rhythmic purpose beneath the atmospheric tones and vocal melodies, touching on pop in “Get On, Get On” while “New Speedway Boogie” struts with thicker tone and a less shoegazing intent than the likes of “To Whom You Were Born,” the languid “Miscommunication” and “Revolution 0,” though that two-minute piece ends with a Misfits-y vocal, so nothing is so black and white stylistically — a notion underscored as closer “Amen” builds from its All Them Witches-swaying meanderings to a full, driving wah-scorched wash to end off. Where they might be headed next, I have no idea, but if you can get on board with this one, the songs refuse to be sublimated to fit genre, and there are fewer more encouraging starts than that.

Ravens on Instagram

Ravens on Bandcamp

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Spacedrifter, When the Colors Fade

Each of the 10 songs on Spacedrifter‘s first full-length, When the Colors Fade, works from its own intention, whether it’s the frenetic MondoGenerator thrust of “(Radio Edit)” or the touch of boogie in opener “Dwell,” but grunge and desert rock are at the root of much the proceedings, as the earliest-QOTSA fuzz of “Buried in Stone” will attest. But the scope of the whole is richer in hearing than on paper, and shifts like the layered vocal melodies in “Have a Girl” or the loose bluesy swing of the penultimate “NFOB,” the band’s willingness to let a part breathe without dwelling too long on any single idea, results in a balance that speaks to the open sensibilities of turn-of-the-century era European heavy without being a retread of those bands either. Comprised of bassist/vocalist/producer Olle Söderberg, drummer/vocalist Isac Löfgren guitarist/vocalist Adam Hante and guitarist John Söderberg, Spacedrifter‘s songwriting feels and organic in its scope and how it communes with the time before the “rules” of various microgenres were set, and is low-key refreshing not like an album you’re gonna hear a ton of hyperbole about, but one that’s going to stay with you longer than its 39 minutes, especially after you let it sink in over a couple listens. So yeah, I’m saying don’t be surprised when it’s on my year-end debuts list, blah blah whatever, but also watch out for how their sound develops from here.

Spacedrifter on Facebook

Spacedrifter on Bandcamp

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Collyn McCoy, Night of the Bastard Original Motion Picture Soundtrack

Assembled across varied movements of synthesizer ranging from half-a-minute to a bit under four minutes long, the score for the indie horror film Night of the Bastard finds L.A.’s Collyn McCoy (also of Circle of Sighs, bassist for Unida, etc.) performing under his experimental-and-then-some electronic alias Nyte Vypr, and if that doesn’t telegraph weirdness to come, well, you can just take my word for it that it should. I can’t claim to have seen the movie, which is reportedly available hither and yon in the clusterfuck that is the modern streamscape, but ’80s horror plays a big role in pieces like “Shards and Splinters” and the opening “Night of the Bastard” itself, while “If We Only Had Car Keys” and “Get Out” feel even more specifically John Carpenter in their beat and keyboard handclaps. Closer “The Sorceress” is pointedly terrifying, but “Turtle Feed” follows a drone and piano line to more peaceful ends that come across as far, far away from the foreboding soundscape of “Go Fuck Yourself.” Remember that part where I said it was going to get weird? It does, and it’s clearly supposed to, so mark it another win for McCoy‘s divergent CV.

Collyn McCoy website

Collyn McCoy on Bandcamp

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Misleading, Face the Psych

I hate to be that guy, but while Face the Psych is the third long-player from Portugal’s Misleading, it’s my first time hearing them, so I can’t help but feel like it’s worth noting that, in fact, they’re not that misleading at all. They tell you to face the psych and then, across seven cosmos-burning tracks and 54 minutes in an alternate dimension, you face it. Spoiler: it’s fucking rad. While largely avoiding the trap of oh-so-happening-right-now space metal, Misleading are perfectly willing to let themselves be carried where the flow of “Tutte le Nove Vite” takes them — church organ righteousness, bassy shuffle, jams that run in gravitational circles, and so on — and to shove and be shoved by the insistence of “Cheating Death” a short while later. The centerpiece “Spazio Nascoto” thickens up stonerized swing after a long intro of synth drone, and 12-minute capper “Egregore” feels like the entire song, not just the guitar and bass, has been put through the wah pedal. As likely to make you punchdrunk as entranced, willfully unhinged, and raw despite filling all the reaches of its mix and then some, it’s not so much misleading as leading-astray as you suddenly realize an hour later you’ve quit your job and dropped out of life, ne’er to be seen, heard from or hounded by debt collectors again. Congrats on that, by the way.

Misleading on Facebook

Misleading on Bandcamp

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The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Jex Blackmore from Love Interest

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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

I am a musician, artist, and activist. I came to do all of these things because I am enraged at the condition of the world and need to channel those feelings in productive ways or risk losing myself completely.

Describe your first musical memory.

My dad used to play piano with me strapped to him as a baby and would later play to me as I crawled around in my toddler years. I still remember this.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

Cocksparrer at the Wonderland Ballroom in Revere, MA; complete chaos and the biggest and most violent sing-a-long I’ve ever witnessed.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

I’ve lost a lot of friends to drug use. I believe everyone has the right to decide what they do with their life, but when loved one after loved one started dying, I found myself having to reevaluate this. Ultimately, I had to accept that everyone gets to make their own decisions, even if those decisions are not what I would want for them, and that’s ok.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Self-awareness.

How do you define success?

I hate the concept of “success” because the only thing it seems to represent is a measure of how well someone has performed a task to the standard of normative society. I don’t want to define success. I don’t want to think about success. I just want to exist and feel good about it.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

I saw Captain Sensible fall off the stage during a Damned set and get carried out of the venue by an EMT. That was sad. He was ok in the end.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

A full-length Love Interest album.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Art allows us to communicate with the world in ways that aren’t always possible with words or actions. It bridges the gap between the individual and the universal. We need an abstract language to express abstract ideas and that is one of the most essential roles of art.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

I’m looking forward to growing Hydra-Fund, a mutual aid abortion fund in Detroit.

https://www.instagram.com/loveinterestdetroit/
https://loveinterestdetroit.bandcamp.com/
https://linktr.ee/loveinterestdetroit
http://www.loveinterestdetroit.com/

https://www.instagram.com/council_records/
https://councilrecords.com/
https://linktr.ee/councilrecords

Love Interest, Motherwound (2023)

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Noah Bruner, Taylor Christian and Joe Peet of Temple of the Fuzz Witch

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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

Taylor: It’s hard for me to define what I do because really, I just see myself as a guy who beats on shit and calls it music. I was introduced to drumming at a young age, by my dad actually who showed me rock and metal music at such a young age, and it’s something I’ve always been able to go to as therapy and making myself feel as if I have a purpose.

Noah: It’s really just a form of mostly negative expression. Spewing the hatred. It’s kind of a release in a form at times.

Describe your first musical memory.

Joe: My first musical memory comes from my mom. I used to be a real shithead to get ready in the morning so to coax me out and get me motivated she’d put on music. I grew up in Indy so the big station for us was X103.3. Listening to stuff like Alice in Chains before being dropped off for grade school is something I really look back on fondly.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

Taylor: In terms of being at a show, being smashed up against the barrier in front of Jus Oborn of Electric Wizard yelling the end of “Funeralopolis” right into my face. Absolute mind melting moment; couldn’t hear a thing for a good few days.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

Joe: I was fortunate to be from a family that was pretty open minded when it comes to religion. I was never explicitly forced to go to church on Sunday. But my parents were really open to me investigating religion and seeing where, if anywhere, I felt like I could belong. So I tried out the youth group thing for a bit in high school, and honestly the peer pressure there was worse than any party or show I went to. Just the sheer amount of judgement really put me off and caused me to drop it pretty quick. I think my parents’ openness really paved the way for me to do what I do, and I’m really thankful for it.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Noah: Sometimes you can tap into something you can get to “that place.” It’s pretty much just chasing it.

How do you define success?

Noah: Well there’s success on many levels. Anything from having a good guitar take in the recording process. On a bigger scale, releasing an album or playing a really good show.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Noah: Too many things, but those things make me what I am today. I take pride in it in a morbid way.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

Joe: I’m a huge nerd, and a big sucker for concept albums. Outside of music I’m a writer, and I really want to create an album that ticks all the boxes that a good story does.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Joe: Again, cliché, but I think it’s an agent of change. The artist creates something that’s pulled from inside of them, then it’s taken in by the audience and starts making internal changes.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

Taylor: Seeing where life takes me. Life is a hell of a journey and I’ve got a long way to go with so many stones yet to be turned.

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Temple of the Fuzz Witch, “A Call to Prey” (2022)

[Click play above to stream Giant Brain’s new single “Fore: (Rage at the Cruelty of Forced Transhumanism).” Grade A Gray Day is out March 10 on Small Stone Records and Kozmik Artifactz.]

It is a difficult album to separate from the context in which it’s been made. Grade A Gray Day is the first offering from Detroit kosmiche rockers Giant Brain in some 14 years since 2009’s Thorn of Thrones (review here), and it arrives four years after the Jan. 2019 death of guitarist Phil Dürr, also known for his work in Big Chief, Luder, Five Horse Johnson and others. Dürr was reportedly in progress playing bass and guitar on what’s the third Giant Brain full-length — the first was 2007’s Plume, also on Small Stone — along with the brotherly rhythm section of bassist Andy Sutton (also vocals) and keyboardist/programmer Al Sutton, both of whom also produced at Rustbelt Studios in Detroit, as well as drummer/keyboardist Eric Hoegemeyer, at the time of his passing, and it is in tribute to his legacy in his home city and to him as an individual that Grade A Gray Day was completed, its six mostly-instrumental tracks holding together variously proggy and cosmic threads across an inevitably varied 41 minutes. There is a narrative thread hinted at in the titles of the songs:

1. Munich
2. Terminator: (Where an Astronaut Dies in Space)
3. The Variac: (His Consciousness Reawakens)
4. Fore: (Rage at the Cruelty of Forced Transhumanism)
5. Systems Failure: (Uprising, Destruction, and the Escape)
6. Between Trains

…and that it is as much spirit as space is appropriate for the music actually contained on the album, which is rife with guest appearances from the likes of Dürr‘s Luder bandmates Sue Lott (also of Slot, Big Chief, etc.), who sings on the meditative and melancholy closer “Between Trains” and Scott Hamilton, who adds guitar to “Systems Failure: (Uprising, Destruction and the Escape) and is the head of Small Stone Records, as well as a slew of others. Even the cover art by Mark Dancey feels like a thoughtful choice considering Dancey used to be in Big Chief. Kenny Tudrick of The Detroit Cobras plays piano on “Between Trains,” Billy Reedy of Novadriver and Walk on Water plays guitar on “Terminator: (Where an Astronaut Dies in Space),” Detroit Symphony bassist James Simonson (also Joanne Shaw Taylor) plays on “Terminator: (Where an Astronaut Dies in Space),” Bob Ebeling of Walk on Water, Five Horse Johnson and Kid Rock handles wine glasses on “The Variac: (His Consciousness Reawakens)” and drums on “Systems Failure: (Uprising, Destruction and the Escape),” Darrel Eubank adds vocals to “The Variac: (His Consciousness Reawakens)” and British Blues Award-winning guitarist Joanne Shaw Taylor sits in on “Munich” and “Fore: (Rage at the Cruelty of Forced Transhumanism),” starting each side of Grade A Gray Day with particularly righteous uptempo krautrock-meets-boogie shuffle.

On at least a couple levels, that’s pretty much the story of Grade A Gray Day. The remaining members of the band — the Suttons and Hoegemeyer — joining forces with a slew of others to flesh out what were Dürr‘s concepts and starting foundations for a third Giant Brain record. Invariably, the end result here can’t match what was the original intent — because the original intent was that Dürr would finish the album with his bandmates — but from the most basic level of its making to the likely logistical nightmare of recording all these players to the simple fact that there are so many involved, Grade A Gray Day absolutely bleeds its homage to Dürr.

More even than it’s an album, it is a love letter to Dürr as a player and a human being from his bandmates, friends and loved ones, and if you can get your head around the songs — personally, I’m still trying to figure out the colon-into-parenthetical happening in the middle four song titles, let alone the actual music, the effort you put into listen is duly rewarded. The manner in which “Munich” and “Terminator: (Where an Astronaut Dies in Space)” bop along like cosmic prog and ’70s swing have always secretly been the same thing, the weirdo repeats of “Terminator terminator” looped through that second cut a rare human voice in the outbound instrumental launch that gives over to float and laughter — presumably Dürr‘s — on the cinematic “The Variac: (His Consciousness Reawakens),” capping side A, these are rich culminations and brazen turns from one to the next, and within themselves, but it’s that love at their foundation that draws them together.

Next time you’re in need of a definition of “skronk,” the riff twisting itself around “Fore: (Rage at the Cruelty of Forced Transhumanism)” should serve nicely. Spaced out in shove early and in drift (and then shove again) later, it’s a quick summary of the stylistic blend that Giant Brain — especially considering the swath of personnel involved — make seamless while staying almost entirely pretense-free in the doing. The first couple minutes of “Systems Failure: (Uprising, Destruction, and the Escape)” are set to the backdrop of noise almost like peeping frogs, but just before 2:20, it bursts into life with a keyboard-inclusive fluidity before turning to a bigger rolling riff (presumably ‘Destruction’) and finds its freedom in shred at the finish, a six-minute jaunt through an interstellar badlands of microgenres that’s only easy to follow because your brain is already jelly.

Its ending leaves “Between Trains” with the daunting task of saying goodbye, to Dürr as well as to this album in his honor. Lott delivers a highlight performance from among the many, emotive but subdued over the ambient drones, a ticking clock that fades out, and a wash that rises and recedes into residual guitar, a last gasp of amplifier hum like they don’t want to let go. Fair. Dürr must have been a pretty special person to earn this kind of celebration of his life and creativity. Grade A Gray Day is as sincere in its realization as it possibly could be, and for that, likewise beautiful, sad, loving and — despite all its space prog psych experimentalism, all its far-far-out sounds and antigravity twists — quintessentially human.

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The opening cut and advance single from Giant Brain‘s upcoming album, Grade A Gray Day, announces itself with a strum of guitar, then disappears momentarily, as though, having bid welcome, it’s then receding into the jammy krautrock ether where it will subsequently reside. The band’s founding guitarist Phil Dürr passed away in 2019, and Small Stone Records, whose Scott Hamilton (who was also in Luder with Dürr) also appears on the record, stands behind the offering as a tribute from the band (and more) to Dürr’s creative spirit, his work in Big Chief on addition to Giant Brain, and his presence as a figure in the Detroit heavy underground.

No, it’s not gonna be 2023’s most hyped release. It’s an instrumental amalgam of kosmiche and heavy psychedelic pieces, thoroughly dug in and hypnotic, likewise on brand and off trend in its craft and somewhat familial in its sundry guest appearances. Still, Small Stone and Kozmik Artifactz offer it as the final studio output from Dürr, and if the mission is to highlight the vibrancy of his playing in this band and honor a friend, then I’ll say as someone who has listened to it that that mission is likewise honorable and successful.

March 10 is the release date. “Munich” is streaming at the bottom of this post, and preorders are up now, as per the PR wire:

GIANT BRAIN To Release Grade A Gray Day Full-Length In Tribute To Late Guitarist Phil Dürr; Record To See Release March 10th Via Small Stone Recordings/Kozmik Artifactz + New Track Streaming

Experimental electro-prog project GIANT BRAIN will release their Grade A Gray Day full-length on March 10th via Small Stone Recordings and Kozmik Artifactz. The mind-bending offering serves as a final studio tribute to the memory of late guitarist Phil Dürr.

On January 11th, 2019, Dürr returned to the great mothership in the sky, days after suffering a cardiac arrest while in Germany visiting relatives. Between his international familial bonds and his membership in such hard-touring bands as Big Chief and Five Horse Johnson, he was mourned by friends, fans, and family globally. His loss was most keenly felt in Detroit, Michigan, his hometown since moving to the area from Mexico as a child, and where he was amid recording the latest GIANT BRAIN album.

After the pain, tears, toasts and reflection, bandmates Al Sutton, Andy Sutton, and Eric Hoegemeyer endeavored to finish what they had started. Coming out four years after Dürr’s passing, Grade A Gray Day is GIANT BRAIN’s last musical will and testament, serving as both a tribute to their departed bandmate and the final chapter in a collaboration that reaches back to the 1990s, when the band members laid the groundwork for the Detroit rock renaissance of the following century.

Long fixtures of the local scene, GIANT BRAIN coalesced between sessions at Rustbelt Studios, Al Sutton’s recording facility in Royal Oak which has hosted regional and national rock royalty. One of the best guitarists in town, no small feat given the terrain, Dürr laid down six-string ideas that rolled as much as rocked while the Sutton brothers supplied taut rhythmic support and technical expertise. Their mix of Krautrock grooves, Detroit attitude, and ambient textures was first heard on 2007’s Plume. Producer and programmer Eric Hoegemeyer would join the band for 2009’s Thorn Of Thrones, with both albums being released on Small Stone Records.

From its packaging to the songs therein, Grade A Gray Day is a family affair. Sue Lott and Scott Hamilton, who played with Dürr in fellow Small Stoners Luder, guest on different songs, Detroit music luminaries Kenny Tudrick, Billy Reedy, James Simonson, Bob Ebeling, and Darrel Eubank sit in on others. UK transplant and Keeping The Blues Alive recording artist Joanne Shaw Taylor lays down searing guitar leads on two tracks and the album artwork was provided by underground art legend Mark Dancey, whose work has graced album covers by Soundgarden and who played guitar alongside Dürr in Big Chief.

Despite being a studio entity, GIANT BRAIN has always sounded like a band. There’s no denying, however, much of their unique musical voice was centered around Phil Dürr’s guitar playing, his ability to change gears from gritty to dreamy in the course of a single verse, his love of blues rock gravity and post-punk atmospherics, always thinking in the back of his mind, “What would Eddie Hazel play here?” At times sad and at other points a celebration, Dürr’s presence pulses and reverberates throughout Grade A Gray Day, whether in his guitar interplay with Joanne Shaw Taylor on the opener “Munich,” or the plangent chords hovering underneath Sue Lott’s vocals on “Between Trains,” the album’s final track and a moving farewell.

GIANT BRAIN’s Grade A Gray Day will be released on CD (limited to 300 copies) and digitally via Small Stone Recordings and vinyl (limited to 300 copies) via Small Stone with Kozmik Artifactz.

Find preorders at THIS LOCATION where opening track, “Munich,” can be streamed: https://smallstone.bandcamp.com/album/grade-a-gray-day

Grade A Gray Day Track Listing:
1. Munich
2. Terminator: (Where An Astronaut Dies In Space)
3. The Variac: (His Consciousness Reawakens)
4. Fore: (Rage At The Cruelty Of Forced Transhumanism)
5. Systems Failure: (Uprising, Destruction, And The Escape)
6. Between Trains

GIANT BRAIN:
Phil Dürr – guitars, bass
Andy Sutton – bass, vocals
Eric Hoegemeyer – drums, keys, programming, synths
Al Sutton – percussion, programming, keys

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Giant Brain, Grade A Gray Day (2023)

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Alex Awn of Temple of Void

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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

I’m a creator, a leader, and a challenger. These three aspects manifest themselves differently depending on the realm, whether it’s through art, business, or even family life. I think all three are deep-rooted personality traits that are maybe equal parts nurture and nature.

Describe your first musical memory.

That’s a tough one. I don’t know what my first musical memory is but the first thing that comes to mind is seeing the artwork for Seventh Son of a Seventh Son. I remember seeing the cardboard cutouts in Woolworths in Glasgow. As an eight year old I was really drawn to the fantastical imagery of the album and the accompanying 12″ singles. I spent lots of time looking through the poster racks in the store as I stared at other Maiden artwork like “Bring Your Daughter to the Slaughter,” “Stranger in a Strange Land,” and “Aces High.” I was transfixed.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

My favorite musical memories are all about playing live shows. There have been too many exceptional shows to pick one, though. The memory is more of a feeling than a singular event. When I’m able to transcend and really enter a flow-state on stage, that is the best fucking thing in the world. There’s really a oneness that you can achieve when the circumstances are right. Everything feels pure and effortless and connected. It doesn’t happen every show. But when it does it’s magical.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

I’m an atheist. Always have been. On top of that I despise religion. Always have. But I got married in a church. It was a gesture of a couple hours that had a significant return on investment from an emotional perspective. It didn’t mean I hated religion any less. It just meant I loved my wife more than I hated religion. But I had to have confidence in myself and my beliefs to make such a decision.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Hopefully it leads to self-fulfillment and authentic expression.

How do you define success?

Success can be measured in a variety of ways. Simply put, it’s achieving the thing which you set out to achieve. It’s very binary. You either did the thing you wanted to or you didn’t. But success can be held through failure, too. If you learned in your failure then you grew. You moved yourself forward. And that is success in and of itself. I have different measures of success in different realms of my life. They’re all uniquely defined. Sometimes simply trying is a success.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Michael Masi’s ruling in the last race of the 2021 F1 season in which he robbed Lewis Hamilton of his eighth world title. It was criminal.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

A new album from my new band.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Self-expression.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

A trip to Italy with my wife.

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Temple of Void, Summoning the Slayer (2022)

Last day. Maybe I’m supposed to have some grand reflection as we hit 100 of 100 records for the Quarterly Review, but I’ll spare you. I’ve put a few records from the bunch on year-end lists, enjoyed a lot of music, wondered why a few people got in touch with me in the first place, and generally plotzed through to the best of my ability. Thanks as always to The Patient Mrs., through whom all things are possible, for facilitation.

And thank you for reading. I hope you’ve managed to find something killer in all this, but if not, there’s still today to go, so you’ve got time.

Next QR is probably early October, and you know what? I’ve already got records lined up for it. How insane is that?

Quarterly Review #91-100:

Jo Quail, The Cartographer

To list the personnel involved in Jo Quail‘s Roadburn-commissioned five-movement work The Cartographer would consume the rest of this review, so I won’t, but the London electric cellist is at the center of an orchestral experiment the stated purpose of which is to find the place where classical and heavy musics meet. Percussion thuds, there’s piano and electric violin and a whole bunch of trombones, and whatever that is making the depth-charge thud underneath “Movement 2,” some voices and narration at the start by Alice Krige, who once played the Borg Queen among many other roles. Though Quail composed The Cartographer for Roadburn — originally in 2020 — the recording isn’t captured on that stage, but is a studio LP, which lets each headphone-worthy nuance and tiny flash of this or that shine through. So is it heavy? Not really in any traditional sense, but of course that’s the point. Is SunnO))) heavy? Sure. It’s less about conforming to given notions of genre characteristics than bringing new ideas to them and saying this-can-be-that in the way that innovative art does, but heavy? Why the hell not? Think of it as mind-expansion, only classy.

Jo Quail on Facebook

By Norse Music website

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Experiencia Tibetana, Vol. II

An aptly named second full-length from Buenos Aires trio Experiencia Tibetana greatly solidifies the band’s approach, which of course itself is utterly fluid. Having brought in Gaston Saccoia on drums, vocals and other percussion alongside guitarist/vocalist Walter Fernandez and bassist Leandro Moreno Vila since their recorded-in-2014-released-in-2020 debut, Vol. I (review here), the band take the methodology of meditative exploration from that album and pare it down to four wholly expansive processions, resonant in their patience and earthy psychedelic ritualizing. Each side of the 48-minute LP is comprised of a shorter track and a longer, and they’re arranged for maximum immersion as one climbs a presumably Tibetan mountain, going up and coming back down with the longest material in the middle, the 16-minute pair “Ciudad de latahes” and “(Desde el) Limbo” running in hypnotic succession with minimalism, noise wash, chanting, percussive cacophony, dead space, bass fuzz, spoken word and nearly anything else they want at their disposal. With “El delito espiritual I” (8:18) and the maybe-eBow(?) ghost howls of “El delito espiritual II” (7:19) on either side, Vol. II charts a way forward for the trio as they move into unknown aural reaches.

Experiencia Tibetana on Facebook

Experiencia Tibetana on Bandcamp

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People of the Black Circle, People of the Black Circle

Not quite like anything else, Athenian conjurors People of the Black Circle plunge deep into horror/fantasy atmospheres, referencing H.P. Lovecraft and Robert Howard within the five tracks of their nonetheless concise 34-minute/five-track self-titled debut. Weighted in tone and mood, almost garage-doom in its production, the synth-backing of “Cimmeria” unfolds after the outward crunch of leadoff “Alchemy of Sorrow” — like Euro doom dramaturge transposed onto a bed of ’80s synths with Om-style bass — and from centerpiece “The Ghoul and the Seraph (Ghoul’s Song II)” through the bookending choral figures and either sampled or synthesized horns over the resolute chug of “Nyarlathotep” and more straight-ahead slow-motion push of closer “Ghosts in Agartha,” which swirls out a highlight solo after a wailing verse lets go and seems to drift away after its payoff for the album as an entirety. While in concept, People of the Black Circle‘s aesthetic isn’t necessarily anything new, there’s no denying the boundaries of dungeon synth and horror/garage doom are being transcended here, and that mixture feels like it’s being given a fresh perspective in these songs, even if the thematic is familiar. A mix of new and old, then? Maybe, but the new wins out decisively. In the parlance of our times, “following.”

People of the Black Circle on Facebook

Red Truth Productions on Bandcamp

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Black Capricorn, Cult of Blood

It always seems to be a full moon when Black Capricorn are playing, regardless of actual cloud cover or phase. The Sardinian trio of guitarist/vocalist Fabrizio Monni (also production; also in Ascia), bassist Virginia Pras and drummer Rachela Piras offer an awaited follow-up to their 2019 Solstice EP (discussed here). Though it’s their fifth full-length overall, it’s the second with this lineup of the band (first through Majestic Mountain), and it comes packed with references like the doomly “Worshipping the Bizarre Reverend” and “Snake of the Wizard” as distorted, cultish and willfully strange vibes persist across its 44-minute span. Doom. Even the out-there centerpiece kinda-interlude “Godsnake Djamballah” and the feedback-laced lurch-march of the nine-minute “Witch of Endor” have a cauldron-psych vibe coinciding with the largely riff-driven material, though, and it’s the differences between the songs that ultimately bring them together, closer “Uddadhaddar” going full-on ritualist with percussion and drone and chanting vocals as if to underscore the point. It’s been five years since they released Omega (review here), their most recent LP, and Cult of Blood wholly justifies the wait.

Black Capricorn on Facebook

Majestic Mountain Records store

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SABOTØR, Skyggekæmper

The Danish title Skyggekæmper translates to English as “shadow fighter,” and if punk-informed heavy rocking Aarhus three-piece SABOTØR mean it in a political context, then fair enough. I speak no Danish, but their past work and titles here like “2040-Planen” — seemingly a reference to Denmark’s clean energy initiative — the stomping, funky “Ro På, Danmark!” (‘calm down, Denmark’) and even the suitably over-the-top “King Diamond” seem to have speaking about Danishness (Danedom?) as an active element. Speaking of “active,” the energy throughout the nine-song/49-minute span of the record is palpable, and while they’re thoroughly in the post-Truckfighters fuzz rock dominion tonally, the slowdowns of “Edderkoppemor” and the closing title-track hit the brakes at least here and there in their longer runtimes and expand on the thrust of the earlier “Oprør!” and “Arbejde Gør Fri,” the start-stop riffing of which seems as much call to dance as a call to action — though, again, I say that as someone without any actual idea if it’s the latter — making the entire listening experience richer on the whole while remaining accessible despite linguistic or any other barriers to entry that might be perceived. To put it another way, you don’t have to be up on current issues facing Denmark to enjoy the songs, and if they make you want to be afterward, so much the better.

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The Buzzards of Fuzz, The Buzzards of Fuzz

Vocalist/rhythm guitarist Van Bassman, lead guitarist/backing vocalist Benjamin J. Davidow and bassist/backing vocalist/percussionist Charles Wiles are The Buzzards of Fuzz. I’m not sure who that leaves as drummer on the Atlanta outfit’s self-titled Sept. 2021 debut LP — could be producer/engineer Kristofer Sampson, Paul Stephens and/or Nick Ogawa, who are all credited with “additional instrumentation” — and it could be nobody if they’re programmed, but one way or the other, The Buzzards of Fuzz sure sound like a complete band, from the trippin’-on-QOTSA vibe of “Tarantulove” and “Desert Drivin’ (No Radio)” (though actually it’s Kyuss alluded to in the lyrics of the latter) to the more languid psych pastoralia of “All in Your Head” and the spacious two minutes of “Burned My Tongue on the Sun,” the purposeful-feeling twist into Nirvana of “Mostly Harmless” and the nod to prior single “Lonely in Space” that is finale “Lonely in Space (Slight Return).” Sleek grooves, tight, hooky songwriting and at times a languid spirit that comes through no matter how fast they’re playing give The Buzzards of Fuzz, the album, a consistent mood across the 11 songs and 32 minutes that allows the delivery to play that much more of a role in making short pieces feel expansive.

The Buzzards of Fuzz on Facebook

The Buzzards of Fuzz on Bandcamp

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Temple of Void, Summoning the Slayer

Crawl into Temple of Void‘s deathly depths and you may find yourself duly consumed. Their style is less outright doom than it used to be, but the Detroit extremist five-piece nonetheless temper their bludgeoning with a resilient amount of groove, and even at their fastest in songs like “Hex, Curse & Conjuration” and some of the more plundering moments in “A Sequence of Rot” just prior, the weight behind their aural violence remains a major factor. The keys in “Deathtouch,” which follows down-you-go opener “Behind the Eye” and leads into “Engulfed” branches out the band’s sound with keyboards (or guitar-as-keyboards, anyway) and a wider breadth of atmosphere than they’ve enjoyed previously — “Engulfed” seems to touch on Type O Negative-style tonality as it chugs into its midsection — and the concluding “Dissolution” introduces a quieter, entirely-clean approach for just under three key-string-laced minutes that Temple of Void have legitimately never shown before. Seems doubtful they’ll take that as far as Opeth in putting out Damnation — though that’s just crazy enough to work — but it shows that as Temple of Void move toward the 10-year mark, their progression has not abated whatsoever. And they still kill, so no worries there.

Temple of Void on Facebook

Relapse Records website

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Anomalos Kosmos, Mornin Loopaz

Psych jazz, instrumental save for some found voice samples which, if you were listening on headphones out in the wild, say, might have you wondering if you’re missing the announcement for your train at the station. Based in Thessaloniki, Greece, Anomalos Kosmos brim with experimentalist urgency on the half-hour of Mornin Loopaz, the seven tracks of which are titled playing off the days of the week — “Meinday,” “Chooseday,” “Whensday,” etc. — but which embark each on their own explorations of the outer reaches of far out. The longest of the bunch is “Thirstday” at just over five minutes, and at 30 minutes one could hardly accuse them of overstaying their welcome. Instead, the shimmering tone, fluid tempos and unpredictable nature of their style make for a thrilling listen, “Thirstday” remaining vital even as it spaces out and “Friedday” picking up directly from there with a ready sense of relief. They spend the weekend krautrocking in “Shatterday” and managing to squeeze a drum solo in before the rushing Mediterranean-proggy end of “Sinday,” the crowd noise that follows leaving one wondering if there aren’t more subversive messages being delivered beneath the heady exterior. In any case, this is a band from a place where the sun shines brightly, and the music stands as proof. Get weird and enjoy.

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Anomalos Kosmos on Bandcamp

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Cauchemar, Rosa Mystica

This third full-length from Quebec-based doom outfit Cauchemar brings the band past their 15th anniversary and makes a bed for itself in traditionalist metallurgy, running currents of NWOBHM running through opener “Jour de colère” and “Rouge sang” while “Danger de nuit” takes a more hard rock approach and the penultimate roller “Volcan” feels more thoroughly Sabbathian. With eight songs presumably arranged four per vinyl side, there’s a feeling of symmetry as “Le tombeau de l’aube” tempts Motörhead demons and answers back with wilful contradiction the late-’70s/early-’80s groove that comes late in “Notre-Dame-sous-Terre.” Closer “La sorcière” tolls its bells presumably for thee as the lead guitar looks toward Pentagram and vocalist Annick Giroux smoothly layers in harmony lines before the church organ carries the way out. Classic in its overarching intentions, the songs nonetheless belong to Cauchemar exclusively, and speak to the dead with a vibrancy that avoids the trappings of cultism while working to some of its strengths in atmosphere, sounding oldschool without being tired, retro or any more derivative than it wants to be. No argument here, it’s metal for rockers, doom for doomers, riffs for the converted or those willing to be. I haven’t looked to see if they have patches yet, but I’d buy one if they do.

Cauchemar on Facebook

Temple of Mystery Records website

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Seum, Blueberry Cash

If you ever wanted to hear Weedeater or Dopethrone hand you your ass with Sons of Otis-worthy tones, Seum‘s Blueberry Cash has your back. The no-guitar-all-bass-and-drums-and-screams Montreal three-piece are just as crusty and weedian as you like, and in “Blueberry Cash,” “John Flag” and the seven-minute “Hairy Muff,” they reinforce sludge extremity with all that extra low end as if to remind the universe where the idea of music being heavy in the first place comes from. Grooves are vital and deathly, produced with just enough clarity to come through laced with what feels like extra nastiness, and “John Flag”‘s blues verse opens into a chasm of a chorus, waiting with sharpened teeth. Rounding out, “Hairy Muff” is a take on a song by vocalist Gaspar‘s prior band, Lord Humungus, and it’s drawn out into a plodding homage to liberation, pubes and the ability of sludge to feel like it’s got its hands on either side of your face and is pressing them together as hard as it can. These guys are a treasure, I mean that, and I don’t care what genre you want to tag it as being or how brutal and skinpeeling they want to make it, something with this much fuckall will always be punk rock in my mind.

Seum on Facebook

Seum on Bandcamp

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