Posted in Bootleg Theater on September 4th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Mallorca-based heavy rockers Queen Marsa are set to release their debut album, I Am the Land, on Sept. 15 through Spain’s own Discos Macarras and also-Mallorca imprint Metalway Records. The video premiering below for the title-track presents the first single taken from the record, which follows the double-guitar/standalone-vocal five-piece’s 2020 self-titled EP with eight songs across a tight but groovy 33 minutes that pull from a swath of influences within the heavy sphere. Crisply produced, I Am the Land necessarily gives up some of the warmth of the EP, but in trade, the record brings a largesse of sound and clarity of intention beyond what one might generally expect from a first full-length, opener “Gaugamela” — a shorter piece at 2:51 that bookends with the finale “Outlaw on the Run” (3:30) as the only two cuts not between four and five minutes long — setting a heavy ’90s backdrop against which much of the proceedings take place. It’s got big tone from guitarists Xavi Cárceles and Jaume Rado, big swing and push from bassist Toni Coronado and drummer Juan Bonet, and the first of, well, about eight big choruses that show off the malleable and melodic but nonetheless belted-out vocals of Manuel Pintos.
It is not a style you would call humble, but it certainly is righteous, and Queen Marsa wield it fluidly and build palpable momentum as they course through “Gaugamela” and “Made for Lovers,” the latter expanding a bit on the metallic undercurrent of the leadoff while also hinting toward C.O.C. in its later chug and Dozer in the way it seems to burst, clean and vibrant, into its riffier instrumental hook. Between the two guitars and Pintos‘ ’70s-via-’90s vocal style, a Trouble comparison feels inevitable, and the chorus of “The Trick is You Don’t Mind” sees that manifest and complements with a fittingly shred-intensive solo to get the point across. The penultimate “The Truth (You Don’t Want to Know)” soon enough echoes that trad-metal/semi-doomed vibe with a darker mood to go with the inherent threat of the title, but stops for a second ahead of a particularly fervent solo finish in a way that touches on psychedelic without losing the firm sense of structure found across the album’s entire span.
With “I Am the Land” bringing together shades of Soundgarden as well as the aforementioned C.O.C. and Trouble — I also can’t help but feel like Pintos going topless in the video is an Iggy Pop reference — and even a little Blind Melon in its chorus, the title-track offers more than fair representation of the LP whose name it shares, and emphasizes Queen Marsa‘s ability as presented here to shift from one aspect of their sound to another. A hard and heavy rock band putting a bluesier spin on a song as Queen Marsa do with side B’s “Treat Me Like You Do,” or that momentary psych divergence in “The Truth (You Don’t Want to Know),” isn’t unheard of, and the fivesome don’t sound like they’re trying to claim they invented anything so much as to explore the process of craft, develop along their own path, and reach out to as many ears as they might catch with their mostly uptempo, deeply energetic take. The ultra-’90s “Stop Dry,” which picks up after “I Am the Land” careens to its finish, is a declarative stomper. This is who this band wants to be.
And so it’s who they are. When they get down to “Outlaw on the Run,” they’re accordingly ready to go. The verse arrives soon enough to focus the immediate tension of the motor riff of the intro, layered-in note-pulls and all on the guitar, and rolls into the chorus with no need for pretense or aural trickery. Some peppered-in doubling of vocals adds to the atmosphere, and they end it sharp and purposeful after a tempo-kick under the solo. Queen Marsa don’t need nearly the entire half-hour-plus to announce themselves as songwriters, but their argument is stronger for the variety that side B brings to the all-go foundation on which I Am the Land is constructed. It’s a rocker, by rockers, for rockers. Yeah, as a debut it’s a sign of the potential in what Queen Marsa are doing, avenues to grow, all that, but to think only of the future is missing the present, and the fact is the band have everything they need right in this material. Whatever they do next (or don’t), this is a strong opening statement.
Phew, right? Yeah, it’s a burner, but you’re up for it. I believe in you and I believe in the power of good rock and roll. The video for “I Am the Land” premieres below, followed by more from the PR wire. Queen Marsa play release shows Sept. 17 at the Fira Del Disc Mallorca and Oct. 6 at Es Gremi. More info, of course, can be chased down on socials, which are linked at the bottom.
Please enjoy:
Queen Marsa, “I Am the Land” video premiere
QUEEN MARSA – I am the land (Official video) First single from our album “I am the land”, out on September 15, 2023.
VIDEO CREDITS – Direction: Andres Quintana – Direction of photography: Andrés Quintana. – Camera operator: Pilar Alcalde – Assistant director: Marta Lladó – Editing: Mad Hernández – Production: Patricia De La Mata – Drone images: Eduardo Dengra
2023 – LP – “I am the land”.
RECORDED, MIXED & MASTERED by Miguel Ángel Riutort (MEGA) at Psychosomatic Studios. Edited and released by Discos Macarras Records and Metalway. Artwork by Toni Coronado. Released at September with the videoclips “I am the land” (Andrés Quintana) and “Outlaw on the run” (Sara Álvarez).
Track list: 1. Gaugamela 2. Made for lovers 3. The trick is you don´t mind 4. I am the land 5. Stop dry 6. Treat me like you do 7. The truth you don´t want to know 8. Outlaw on the run
THE BAND: Manuel Pintos: Vocals Jaume Rado: Guitar Xavi Cárceles: Guitar Toni Coronado: Bass Juan Bonet: Drums
Insistent jazzjabs of snare, twisty ’90s guitar and bouncing bass lead the way into the opening title-track of Plastic Woods‘ 2021 album, Dragonfruit. Released through Spinda Records, Gato Encerrado Records, Discos Macarras, The Braves Records and Violence in the Veins, it was offered as the Andalusian three-piece’s second full-length behind 2019’s Icarus, solidifying and consciously aligning around a sound aware of its home region’s penchant for blending classic progressive rock and heavy psychedelia, but not beholden to it, working in elements of punk, doom, boogie rock, Spanish folk and flamenco guitar and vocals, a sound rife with quirk but remarkably sure of itself, and able to pivot from fleet-stepping prog to crusher riffing at will. And that’s just the first two minutes.
Guitarist/vocalist Jesús de la Torre Sánchez — also the transverse flute on 10-minute closer “Sulayr” — bassist Antonio Pérez Muriel, who holds together jams like “The Calling” and “Dreamland” with class and flash, and drummer/percussionist Javier Rubio Arrabal, whose fluidity of play allows many of the shifts between styles to be done with apparent ease, are joined by a range of guests throughout. “Dragonfruit” itself has violin from Irene Veredas, as does relatively brief acoustic piece “Storm,” while Miguel Ángel Robles Urquiza adds trumpet and Carlos Mesa García plays sax on “Dreamland,” and by then — that’s track three — the band have already run through the Mellotron-laced prog of “The Calling,” with its laid back verse and sunny, folkish chorus, lighter ’90s swing and lush midsection stopping post-flute on its bassline at four minutes in, beginning the jam that will solidify across the next two minutes, with horns, and synth, and manipulated drums, into speedier guitar that resolves in a boogieing finish. A slide whistle of feedback gives over to the standalone vocal at the beginning of “Dreamland.”
With additional flamenco guitar, palmas and jaleos from Antonio Campos del Pino and piano/synth from Isaac Pascual Godoy, Dragonfruit comes across as even more complex and with the way “The Calling” engages funk behind its vocal melody like Blind Melon and Porcupine Tree finding common ground in Iberian folk and flute. At their speediest, in the title-track or the penultimate “Close to the Void,” which returns to the opener’s dirtied-up tonality and rhythmic urgency, Plastic Woods can be dizzying, but it’s important to remember that the breadth in terms of arrangements and aesthetic here means they’re rarely doing the same thing twice on an LP that runs six songs and 32 minutes.
The violin-laced ’70s folk-rock of “Storm” is a departure from “Dreamland” prior, with that song’s foray into Beatles stomp and Primus bounce, trumpet and sax, and noodly stretchout. And “Storm” gives over to “Close to the Void,” which is a shoving rager until it hits its big stoner rock slowdown into one of the best riffs Graveyard forgot to write on their second album, while “Sulayr” puts the flute up front early and builds into a flamenco verse, saving its heavier riffing for after the midpoint of its 10:17, though even that is less of a payoff than was “Close to the Void,” but having already done that thing, Plastic Woods resolve “Sulayr” in funky horns and a jazzy comedown, falling to silence to let an acoustic flamenco guitar kick in and begin the instrumental procession that will lead the band through the end of the record.
Drums, flute, bass, eventually join, but it’s still the acoustic guitar at the center of that last divergence, and it’s telling that Plastic Woods end with that longer and broader cut rather than something ‘just’ raucous and loud, showing ambition in a way that leads one to believe they’re cognizant of the styles they’re twisting together into one thing, and the changeable nature of that formula. From “Close to the Void” toying with doom to “Dragonfruit” panning the flourish lead lines of its verse, to the pairing of voice and violin on “Storm,” Dragonfruit accomplishes a sense of scope without giving up the songs beneath the arrangements or making the arrangements themselves the point of the thing. That is, “Dragonfruit” would still be a song without the horns. They enhance it, but their being there is clearly not the only reason the song was written, and whoever else is involved in a given track, the core trio shine through the production and mix from Jesús Gómez Moreno and Guillermo Ruiz Ravira at Green Cross Studio in Málaga (Mario G. Alberni at Kadifornia Mastering mastered).
In the vocals of Sánchez, Muriel‘s creativity and fun in the low end, and Arrabal‘s ready-for-it drumming, Plastic Woods seem to overflow with forward potential, whether that manifests in riffier or more folk-informed fare or — most likely — finds some space within and between the two, playing up the differences sometimes and at other points drawing lines from one to the other to find commonalities, much as they do here. I won’t try to predict where their music will go, though I wouldn’t be surprised if they had more keyboard next time out, but the confidence and boldness with which they so energetically present Dragonfruit speaks to a desire to progress, to grow as a band, and to continue to carve out their place in the ever-busy Spanish underground.
I was fortunate enough to see Plastic Woods play the pre-show at SonicBlast Fest (review here) last week. I knew nothing about them going into that experience and was a bit blown away as the set unfolded and the band were able to pull off the kinds of changes one hears them making throughout Dragonfruit, including bringing out the additional flamenco guitar twice during what was still only like 40 minutes but was an evening’s worth of getting-schooled. Young band, killer sound, will to grow and just enough weird in what they do to make it really unpredictable — you can pretty much sign me up for that anytime.
No clue if Plastic Woods are working on new material or another record or what, but I knew I wanted to write about this one after seeing them. Some things are worth talking about.
Thanks as always for reading. Hope you enjoy.
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This week is it for The Pecan and camp. There’s like two-plus weeks left before school starts, but we figured a couple weeks of actual break at the end wouldn’t be the worst. Today’s the last day of the last camp. Made it through the fucking summer. It was touch and go there for a minute, as I think you know.
The Patient Mrs. has lined up a few ‘fun week’ activities next week. Day trips and so on. I’m going to do my best to write as much as I can — same as always — but I’m also not going to miss summer with my five year old because I’m never going to have another, and even when she’s six next year, that’s a big difference. Who knows what she’ll be like by then?
But this week was bug camp and bug camp was two hours a day, so having a bit of a time crunch was what it was. I did my best. I think I forgot to put a post up one day and another day had four, but whatever. I feel like the one thing this site isn’t hurting for is content.
Mostly in addition to camp, which is at the arboretum, which is always nice and about 10 minutes away, this week was about comedown from being away last weekend. SonicBlast was a hoot. Great people, lovely time, I saw Greenleaf and Dozer again. I saw Acid King play “Mind’s Eye,” Ruff Majik do “Hillbilly Fight Song,” on and on. But tiring too. You come home tired, then there’s all the back-home stuff to do. By Monday afternoon I was pretty frazzled. Leftover adrenaline.
But I got there, I guess is what matters. And I’ll note that right now, this week, I’m not at my lowest of lows, and that seems worth appreciating. Wow, it’s almost like I benefitted somehow from blowing my brains out with music and being told my work is important for four days. No kidding. The insight around here never stops.
Have a great and safe weekend. Don’t forget to hydrate, sunblock. Watch your head. All that stuff.
Posted in Reviews on January 11th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Not to get too mathy or anything — stay with me, folks — but today is the day the Winter 2023 Quarterly Review passes the three-quarter mark on its way to 80 of the total 100 releases to be covered. And some of those are full-lengths, some are EPs, some are new, one yesterday was almost a year old. That happens. The idea here, one way or the other, is personal discovery. I hope you’ve found something thus far worth digging into, something that really hits you. And if not, you’ve still got 30 releases — 10 each today, tomorrow, Friday — to come, so don’t give up yet. We proceed…
Winter 2023 Quarterly Review #71-80:
Black Math Horseman, Black Math Horseman
Though long foretold by the prophets of such things, the return of Black Math Horseman with 2022’s self-titled, live-recorded-in-2019 EP some 13 years after their 2009 debut full-length, Wyllt (discussed here, interview here), helped set heavy post-rock in motion, is still a surprise. The tension in the guitars of Ian Barry (who also handled recording/mixing) and Bryan Tulao in the eponymous opener is maddening, a tumult topped by the vocals of Sera Timms (who here shares bass duties with Rex Elle), and given thunder by drummer Sasha Popovic, and as part of a salvo of three cuts all seven minutes or longer, it marks the beginning of a more intense extraction of the atmospheric approach to heavy songcraft that made their past work such a landmark, with the crashes of “Cypher” and the strummy sway of “The Bough” following ahead of shorter, even-driftier closer “Cypber.” There’s a big part of me that wishes Black Math Horseman was a full-length, but an even bigger part is happy to take what it can get and hope it’s not another decade-plus before they follow it with something more. Not to be greedy, but in 2009 this band had a lot more to say and all this time later that still feels like the case and their sound still feels like it’s reaching into the unknown.
The names here should be enough. It’s Aidan Baker from heavy drone experimentalist institution Nadjaja (‘and’ in Finnish) Jussi Lehtisalo from prog-of-all masters Circle, collaborating and sharing guitar, bass, vocal and drum programming duties — Lehtisalo would seem also to add the keyboards that give the the titular neon to centerpiece “Neon Splashing (From Your Eyes)” — on a 53-minute song cycle, running a broad spectrum between open-space post-industrial drone and more traditional smoky, melancholic, heady pop. Closer “Racing After Midnight” blends darker whispers with dreamy keyboard lines before moving into avant techno, not quite in answer to “I Wanna Be Your Bête Noire” earlier, but not quite not, and inevitably the 14-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “(And I Want Your Perfect) Crocodile Tears” is a defining stretch in terms of ambience and setting the contextual backdrop for what follows, its howling guitar layered with drum machine churn in a way that’s analogous to Jesu in style but not form, the wash that emerges in the synth and guitar there seeming likewise to be the suddenly-there alt-reality New Wave destination of the more languid meander of “Face/Off.” The amalgam of beauty and crush is enough to make one hope this isn’t Baker and Lehtisalo‘s last get together, but if it is, they made something worth preserving. By which I mean to say you might want to pick up the CD.
While their crux is no less in the dreamy, sometimes minimalist, melodic parts and ambient stretches of their longer-form songs and the interludes “In the Tall Grass” and “Bloom (Reprise),” the outright crush of Sacramento’s Chrome Ghost on their third record, House of Falling Ash (on Seeing Red), is not to be understated, whether that’s the lumber-chug of 14-minute opener “Rose in Bloom” or the bookending 13-minute closing title-track’s cacophonous wash, through which the trio remain coherent enough to roll out clean as they give the record its growl-topped sludge metal finish. Continuing the band’s clearly-ain’t-broke collaboration with producer Pat Hills, the six-song/50-minute offering boasts guest appearances from him on guitar, as well as vocals from Eva Rose (ex-CHRCH) on “Furnace,” likewise consuming loud or quiet, punishing or spacious, Oakland-based ambient guitarist Yseulde in the lengthy, minimalist midsection of “Where Black Dogs Dream,” setting up the weighted and melodic finish there, with Brume‘s Susie McMullin joining on vocals to add to the breadth. There’s a lot happening throughout, loud/quiet trades, experimental flourish, some pedal steel from Hills, but guitarist/vocalist Jake Kilgore (also keys), bassist Joe Cooper and drummer Jacob Hurst give House of Falling Ash a solid underpinning of atmospheric sludge and post-metal, and the work is all the more expressive and (intermittently) gorgeous for it.
Straight-ahead, metal-informed, organ-inclusive classic heavy rock is the order of the day on Wölfhead‘s second album, Blood Full Moon, which is the Barclona-based four-piece’s first offering since their 2011 self-titled debut and is released through Discos Macarras, Música Hibrida and Iron Matron Records. An abiding impression of the 11-song offering comes as the band — who filled out their well-pedigreed core lineup of vocalist Ivan Arrieta, guitarists Josue Olmo and Javi Félez, and drummer Pep Carabante with session players David Saavedra (bass) and Albert Recolons (keys) — present rippers like the Motörhead (no real surprise, considering) via Orange Goblin rocker “Funeral Hearse” as the tail end of a raucous opening salvo, or the later “Mother of the Clan,” but from there the proceedings get more complex, with the classic doom roll of “Rame Tep” or the Jerry Cantrell-esque moody twang of “Everlasting Outlaw,” while “Eternal Stone Mountain” blends keyboard grandiosity and midtempo hookmaking in a way that should bring knowing nods from Green Lung fans, while “The Munsters” is, yes, a take on the theme from the tv show, and closer “El Llop a Dins” takes an airier, sans-drums and more open feel, highlighting melody rather than an overblown finish that, had they gone that route, would have been well earned.
Issued through Argonauta Records, Exodus‘ seven inclusions are situated so that their titles read as a sentence: “Is,” “The Future of Mankind,” “Forced By,” “The King of Monsters,” “Because,” “Everything That Has Been Given,” “Will Be Taken Away.” Thus Leipzig, Germany, instrumentalists Godzilla in the Kitchen‘s second album is immediately evocative, even before “Is” actually introduces the rest of what follows across three minutes of progressively minded heavy rock — parts calling to mind Pelican duking it out with Karma to Burn — that give way to the longest cut and an obvious focal point, “The Future of Mankind,” which reimagines the bass punch from Rage Against the Machine‘s “Killing in the Name Of” as fodder for an odd-timed expanse of Tool-ish progressive heavy, semi-psych lead work coming and going around more direct riffing. The dynamic finds sprawl in “Because” and highlights desert-style underpinnings in the fading lead lines of “Everything That Has Been Given” before the warmer contemplation of “Will Be Taken” caps with due substance. Their use of Godzilla — not named in the songs, but in the band’s moniker, and usually considered the “king of monsters” — as a metaphor for climate change is inventive, but even that feels secondary to the instrumental exploration itself here. They may be mourning for what’s been lost, but they do so with a vigor that, almost inadvertently, can’t help but feel hopeful.
Megalurching post-sludgers Onhou leave a crater with the four-song Monument, released by Lay Bare Recordings and Tartarus Records and comprising four songs and a 41-minute run that’s crushing in atmosphere as much as the raw tonal heft or the bellowing vocals that offset the even harsher screams. Leadoff “When on High” (8:19) is the shortest cut and lumbers toward a viciously noisy payoff and last stretch of even-slower chug and layered extreme screams/shouts, while “Null” (10:39) is unremittingly dark, less about loud/quiet tradeoffs though there still are some, but with depths enough to bury that line of organ and seeming to reference Neurosis‘ “Reach,” and “Below” (11:55) sandwiches an ambient beginning and standalone keyboard finish around post-metallic crunch and not so much a mournfulness as the lizard-brain feeling of loss prior to mourning; that naked sense of something not there that should be, mood-wise. Sure enough, “Ruins” (11:03) continues this bleak revelry, rising to a nod in its first couple minutes, breaking, returning in nastier fashion and rolling through a crescendo finish that makes the subsequent residual feedback feel like a mercy which, to be sure, it is not. If you think you’re up to it, you might be, or you might find yourself consumed. One way or the other, Onhou plod forward with little regard for the devastation surrounding. As it should be.
Less meditative than some of Germany’s instrumental heavy psych set, Bremen’s Fuzzerati explore drifting heavy psychedelic soundscapes on their 47-minute second album, Zwo, further distinguishing themselves in longform pieces like “Claus to Hedge” (13:01) and closer “Lago” (13:34) with hints of floaty post-rock without ever actually becoming so not-there as to be shoegazing. “Lago” and “Claus to Hedge” also have harder-hitting moments of more twisting, pushing fuzz — the bass in the second half of “Claus to Hedge” is a highlight — where even at its loudest, the seven-minute “Transmission” is more about dream than reality, with a long ambient finish that gives way to the similarly-minded ethereal launch of “Spacewalk,” which soon enough turns to somewhat ironically terrestrial riffing and is the most active inclusion on the record. For that, and more generally for the fluidity of the album as a whole, Fuzzerati‘s sophomore outing feels dug in and complete, bordering on the jazziness of someone like Causa Sui, but ultimately no more of their ilk than of My Sleeping Karma‘s or Colour Haze‘s, and I find that without a ready-made box to put them in — much as “instrumental heavy psych” isn’t a box — it’s a more satisfying experience to just go where the three-piece lead, to explore as they do, breathe with the material. Yeah, that’ll do nicely, thanks.
At least seemingly in part a lyrical narrative about a demon killing an infant Jesus and then going to hell to rip the wings off angels and so on — it’s fun to play pretend — Afghan Haze‘s Hallucinations of a Heretic feels born of the same extreme-metal-plus-heavy-rock impulse that once produced Entombed‘s To Ride Shoot Straight and Speak the Truth, and yeah, that’s a compliment. The bashing of skulls starts with “Satan Ripper” after the Church of Misery-style serial murderer intro “Pushing up Daisies,” and though “Hellijuana” has more of a stomp than a shove, the dudely-violence is right there all the same. “Occupants (Of the Underworld)” adds speed to the proceedings for an effect like High on Fire born out of death metal instead of thrash, and though the following closer “Gin Whore” (another serial killer there) seems to depart from the story being told, its sludge is plenty consistent with the aural assault being meted out by the Connecticut four-piece, omnidirectional in its disdain and ready at a measure’s notice to throw kicks and punches at whosoever should stand in its way, as heard in that burner part of “Gin Whore” and the all-bludgeon culmination of “Occupants (Of the Underworld).” This shit does not want to be your friend.
My only wish here is that I could get a lyric sheet for the Britpsych-style banger that is “Costco Get Fucked.” Otherwise, I’m fully on board with Canadian trio Massirraytorr‘s debut LP, Twincussion — which, like the band’s name, is also styled all-caps, and reasonably so since the music does seem to be shouting, regardless of volume or what the vocals are actually up to in that deep-running-but-somehow-punk lysergic swamp of a mix. “Porno Clown” is garage raw. Nah, rawer. And “Bong 4” struts like if krautrock had learned about fuckall, the layer of effects biting on purpose ahead of the next rhythmic push. In these, as well as leadoff “Calvin in the Woods” and the penultimate noisefest “Fear Garden,” Massirraytorr feel duly experimentalist, but perhaps without the pretension that designation might imply. That is to say, fucking around is how they’re finding out how the songs go. That gives shades of punk like the earliest, earliest, earliest Monster Magnet, or The Heads, or Chrome, or, or, or, I don’t know fuck you. It’s wild times out here in your brain, where even the gravity slingshot of “The Juice” feels like a relatively straightforward moment to use as a landmark before the next outward acceleration. Good luck with it, kids. Remember to trail a string so you can find your way back.
Serbian five-piece Tona make their self-titled second LP with a 10-song collection that’s less a hodgepodge and more a melting pot of different styles coming together to serve the needs of a given song. “Sharks” is a rock tempo with a thrash riff. “Napoleon Complex Dog” is blues via hardcore punk. Opener “Skate Zen” takes a riff that sounds like White Zombie and sets it against skate rock and Megadeth at the same time. The seven-minute “Flashing Lights” turns progadelic ahead of the dual-guitar strut showoff “Shooter” and the willful contrast of the slogging, boozy closer “Just a Sip of It.” But as all-over-the-place as Tona‘s Tona is, it’s to the credit of their songwriting that they’re able to hold it together and emerge with a cohesive style from these elements, some of which are counterintuitively combined. They make it work, in other words, and even the Serbian-language “Atreid” gets its point across (all the more upon translation) with its careening, tonally weighted punk. Chock full of attitude, riffs, and unexpected turns, Tona‘s second long-player and first since 2008 gives them any number of directions in which to flourish as they move forward, and shows an energy that feels born from and for the stage.
Spanish heavy alt and sludge rockers Rosy Finch will release Seconda Morte on Nov. 4 through Lay Bare Recordings, Discos Macarras and LaRubia Producciones. The four-song offering runs 28 minutes long and follows the band’s 2020 sophomore album, Scarlet (review here), as a flowing conceptual piece drawing strongly from 1990s riot grrrl aesthetics while functioning in a range of sonic styles, from hard-hitting aggro fire to answer the intensity of Scarlet to more serene fare like that at the outset of nine-minute closer “Paradiso” or the strum of the later not-quite-hidden acoustic finish. In particular — and this is something you’ll see in the video premiering for the penultimate “Purgatorio” below as well — founding guitarist, vocalist and songwriter Mireia Porto seems to pay homage to Courtney Love and Hole‘s ’94 album, Live Through This, but immediately Rosy Finch are on their own wavelength musically, opening Seconda Morte as they do with the gradual beginning of the deeply ambient instrumental “Selva Oscura,” which prefaces many of the smoothly executed volume trades and style swaps to come.
Drummer and returning producer Jose F. Rojo recorded the EP — one more song and for sure it’d be a full-length, even with that long instrumental opener, and it’s on the line between EP and LP anyway, but they call it the former so I’m rolling with it — with Porto also credited as producer, and one can hear the depth of their approach in the layered growls and harsh vocals of “Inferno,” the wrenching lead guitar of that song’s guitar solo and the sudden drop to organ sounds and ethereal fare that precedes the next turn to the verse. Here Rosy Finch are part-Pantera, part-early-Tool, and unquestionably in command tonally as well as in the aggression level of their delivery. Longer than “Selva Oscura,” “Inferno” sets the shorter-song-into-longer-song A/B pattern that plays out across “Purgatorio” and “Paradiso” still to come, the two five-minute tracks each giving over to something that reaches broader, though one could hardly accuse “Purgatorio” of wanting for atmosphere with its post-rock wisps of floating guitar early and gradual coalescing in a pre-chorus that holds its threat in the drum crash before receding and telling you without telling you that the next time that part comes around, you’d best watch your ass.
The making-good on that promise is no doubt a big part of why “Purgatorio” was picked as the first single from Seconda Morte, and I find I’m even less able to argue listening to the driving nod and the band’s ability to keep it together even as the song pushes into an increasingly furious procession. At 5:06, “Purgatorio” is the shortest track — “Selva Oscura” is 5:18, but would be a less representative single — but it emphasizes the fluidity of the changes Rosy Finch are able to make throughout Seconda Morte, and all the more for arriving ahead of the from-the-ground-up beginning of “Paradiso.” In its just-under-10 minutes, the finale moves from heavy post-rock and psychedelic hypnotics into riffy triumphalism and storm-conjuring, maybe a bit of Viaje a 800 influence resonating subconsciously there, back to the float, back to the crunch, and as it crosses the midpoint threshold, into a more melodic but still weighted dreamscape, consuming and growing fuller in its wash as it moves through. You don’t know it at first, but that’s the trick the band are so able to pull off in introducing their shifts so smoothly that if you don’t follow closely, you can end up looking back after a minute and wondering how you got there. That’s a compliment to the band as well as a boon to repeat listens.
It’s also perhaps nowhere so prevalent as in the final turn undertaken by “Paradiso,” which is to leave that wash behind on a slow fade, patient noise setting a tide-going-out bed for the hard strum of acoustic that Porto‘s last vocals will soon follow, solo, voice-and-guitar style. One is reminded of Nirvana and the swath of acoustic pieces they inspired near the ends of records with “Something in the Way,” but the mood of “Paradiso” at the finish is Rosy Finch‘s own, and that the guitar sounds a little beat up is a reasoned choice to add to that mood. It’s not like there weren’t perfectly tuned instruments around, but sometimes that’s not what you want, and like so many of the moves Porto, Rojo and the band make here, it works in no small part because they are assured enough in their purposes to nail it. You can (and mostly should) do whatever you want — doom what thou wilt, if you want it another way — so long as nobody gets hurt who doesn’t want to and you’ve got creative intent backing you up. As they move closer toward a decade’s tenure, Rosy Finch have obviously learned that lesson well, and they have the presence of craft to bring their audience along for the ride.
“Purgatorio” doesn’t necessarily give the whole story of Seconda Morte in terms of sound, then, but it does showcase the atmosphere and general vibe of the EP. You’ll find the video below, followed immediately by more from the PR wire.
Enjoy:
Rosy Finch, “Purgatorio” video premiere
Today sees the release of Purgatorio, the first single and video taken from the bands highly anticipated EP Seconda Morte, a moody, thrilling journey based on the poem The Divine Comedy, which releases on the 4th November 2022 via Lay Bare Recordings, Discos Macarras, and LaRubia Producciones.
“Purgatorio is the second part of the Dante’s The Divine Comedy and the first track on side two of the new album.” Says vocalist and guitarist Mireia Porto. She delves a little deeper into the meaning behind the song, “It’s about Dante’s journey through Mount Purgatory, describing the climb to the seven terraces which all represent the seven deadly sins. The punished souls residing there are suffering and expecting to receive forgiveness and Dante believes their sins arise from love.”
The video was directed Mireia and shot by Marcos Bañó at Creative Madness Lab, as well in a mountainous red-sand desert, representing the Mount of Purgatory, where Dante is watching a sinner stuck on the terrace of the wrathful. “For me, this is the most common sin: harm of others for not facing your own demons.” Comments Mireia.
The trio burst onto the scene in 2013, founded by singer/guitarist Mireia Porto (who also later played with stoner doom phenoms, Hela). Having released two successful full-length albums and an EP, the line-up changed in 2019 during the recording of their barnstormer 2020 album, ‘Scarlet’. Óscar Soler (previously of space-rockers Pyramidal) and Juanjo Ufarte (from psychedelic doom merchants, Grajo) took over on bass and drums respectively, and a new day dawned in the Rosy Finch camp, one filled with heightened aggression and intent.
Barcelona-based heavy rockers Fuzz Forward posted the single ‘She Comes’ on Aug. 5 and have a needle-on-record (plus some other psychedelic whathaveyou) visualizer to accompany. As to what record is playing, I’m not entirely sure. The mid-paced, mostly mellow ’90s groover — prevailing vibes of Soundgarden, Alice in Chains — has not yet seen a physical pressing that I know of. It follows May’s “Shout to Forget” as a herald of the Spanish four-piece’s sophomore full-length, which is due to release in 2023 with the not insignificant backing of Spinda Records, Red Sun Records, Discos Macarras and Diablero Music Records, but I haven’t heard of that record being pressed yet if it has been — I could be entirely wrong here, of course — but one can hardly call the visual inaccurate since when you put on a record and listen to it, that’s what it looks like. Fair enough.
The song is, of course, the focal point here rather than the video itself, and with Juan‘s coolly crooned lines and the steady instrumental fluidity behind him — live sounding but not overwrought or trying too hard, laid back in the way it wants to be — “She Comes” is about mood and structure alike. Its chorus wants a sing-along, but there’s breadth enough that as it moves through its ultra-grunge midsection into the more spaced-out reaches that follow, the shift is smooth enough to hardly notice it’s happening. This speaks to the intentionality of Fuzz Forward after their 2018 first album, Out of Nowhere (review here), and 2020’s acoustic Revolve EP, the band pushing themselves forward, expanding their sound and progressing as, ideally, they would. In this way, it’s mission-accomplished for the single in building anticipation for the new album — let alone the visual tease for such a thing — when it might surface in the coming New Year.
I asked for a quote about the song, and Fuzz Forward‘s Juan and drummer Marc Rockenberg — the band is completed by guitarist Caio Pastore and bassist Alexander Romero — were kind enough to give background insight on “She Comes” as well as an update on when the next LP, whatever it’s called when it’s actually ready to be pressed, will surface.
Please enjoy:
Fuzz Forward, “She Comes” official visualizer
Marc: “I came up with the idea for the song about four years ago. Wanted to go to some yet unexplored territory for the band with it. Do something different and completely new for us but that at the same time didn’t sound like a total departure from what FF is and sounds like. A song with some of Fuzz Forward’s key elements (like the ’90s influence and riffing) but with a different vibe, atmospheric but not in the spacey sense but more emotionally. I believe we achieved that and I’m very proud with the final result of She Comes.”
About the lyrics Juan says, “SHE COMES talks about inspiration, genius, daemons or the muses, you name it, and tries to describe those moments when music intoxicates our ideas, senses and limbs.”
Marc: “We recorded She Comes and Shout To Forget in two days, with Dani Salat as a producer in his studio. We had been playing these two songs live for quite some time so it was pretty easy and fast. For She Comes we decided to use synthesizers for the first time and that was to intensify the atmospheric part. We then added some layers of noisy guitars and that’s it.”
Marc: “The rest of the album will be recorded and mixed next October and we hope it will be released before the summer of 2023 with Spinda Records, Discos Macarras, Diablero Music Records and Red Sun Records.”
Marc: “We have written a lot of material since our debut album came out in 2018, we have around 30 new songs. We are now in the process of selecting the 10 songs that will make it to the album. We don’t want to do “Out Of Nowhere” part two. We have made a big effort to write the best songs we possibly can and also for them to be different from each other. Our goal is to create a very dynamic album which shows the different sides FF’s has. We don’t want to be stuck with a label, that’s one of the reasons why in 2020 we didn’t hesitate to release an all acoustic ep ‘Revolve’. Some people didn’t expect that and that’s fine. We just want to write songs that we are happy with and we are not afraid to go to wherever they take us to.”
Produced, recorded, mixed and mastered by Dani Salat at Dani Salat Studio (Sabadell, Spain) in 2022.
(C) 2022, Fuzz Forward (P) 2022, Spinda Records, Red Sun Records, Discos Macarras & Diablero Music Records
Fuzz Forward: Juan – Vocals Alexander Romero – Bass Marc Rockenberg – Drums Caio Pastore – Guitar
aforementioned C.O.C. and Trouble — I also can’t help but feel like Pintos going topless in the video is an Iggy Pop reference — and even a little Blind Melon in its chorus, the title-track offers more than fair representation of the LP whose name it shares, and emphasizes Queen Marsa‘s ability as presented here to shift from one aspect of their sound to another. A hard and heavy rock band putting a bluesier spin on a song as Queen Marsa do with side B’s “Treat Me Like You Do,” or that momentary psych divergence in “The Truth (You Don’t Want to Know),” isn’t unheard of, and the fivesome don’t sound like they’re trying to claim they invented anything so much as to explore the process of craft, develop along their own path, and reach out to as many ears as they might catch with their mostly uptempo, deeply energetic take. The ultra-’90s “Stop Dry,” which picks up after “I Am the Land” careens to its finish, is a declarative stomper. This is who this band wants to be.
