Hail hail rock and roll on a Saturday night, and all concordant rituals. After a busy week of building steam, to be sure I was ready to blow some off, and a four-act night at Factory Records — two Jersey homegrowns, two imports — would be just enough volume to do the trick. The record store is located in Dover, just a couple exits on I-80 West from where they had all the sinkholes that were big news in NJ and nowhere else earlier this year.

Tennessee doom rockers WyndRider and Ohio fuzz-riffing stalwarts Valley of the Sun were at the top of the bill, while The Crooked Skulls and the recently-seen Heavy Flow opened. It had been a minute since I was last at Factory Records, but the room with the stage and P.A. was much the same: cozy, intimate, loud. Old rugs and couches and treasure chests and the odd bit of well-lived-in antiquity. So yes, familiar from last time.

I rolled in circa doors and found a couch spot to sit and write that I guessed would be homebase for the evening. There have been at least three heavy shows in Northern New Jersey this year, in the county where I live, and this was one of them. I’ve yet to hit one that was packed to the rafters, but I’m not kidding when I say that not traveling to a show, having gigs somewhere I can just go and then go home — my house, also pretty close to Rt. 80 — and having that level of convenience, is a new experience for me. I like it. I finally understand why people feel compelled to complain when tours are skipping their town. It’s way easier when bands come to you.

When originally announced, this show was supposed to happen at Stanhope House, but apparently not so much. They may have closed? I only know what I’m told and am too lazy to find out for myself. In any case, Factory Records is a decent spot, and I had the feeling the bands would sound huge in that room, all exposed concrete on the walls and such. By the time The Crooked Skulls were done line checking, I knew I was right.

And we all know there’s nothing I enjoy more than agreeing with myself, so all the better. Here’s how the night went:

The Crooked Skulls

It was my first time seeing the Garden State’s own The Crooked Skulls, who hit the stage fresh from releasing their new single “Iron Smile,” on which Fu Manchu’s Bob Balch sits in on guitar. They played that song last, and fair enough, but it wasn’t the only highlight of their set, along with “Buried” just before. Their sound is a reasonably straightforward proposition — guitar, bass, drums, with vocals shared between guitarist Pete Koretzky (lead) and bassist Dave Van Auken (backing mostly, some lead), drummer Chuck Snyder bashing away behind — following riffs with metal at their foundation and a burl in the tone that carries extra impact for the chug, which at this stage is a big part of the structure of their riffs. That hint of aggro comes tempered by the pacing, which is in it purely for the groove. If shows in this area are going to be a thing — and golly that would be nice, even at such a pace as I’ve seen them this year — I suspect it won’t be the last time I see them. So much the better for the path of growth on which they’ve set themselves. I had been wondering what their plan was for a first release and was fortunate enough to get clarity on that after they played.

Heavy Flow

My second time seeing Rahway’s Heavy Flow, the two-piece who reminded me rather quickly of why I thought they were such a blast last time. Because they are (remember what I said about agreeing with myself?). Gravelly vovals with a bluesy tinge meld to suit riffs that are classic in a variety of ’90s-based senses, plus hooks and hooks and hooks and personality to back it, whether you’re watching somewhat-introverted-but-still-engaged-like-when-the-slackers-roamed-the-earth guitarist/vocalist James Matheson and more-outwardly-all-in-on-the-notion-of-play-as-playing drummer/vocalist Matt Weisser, or, better, both, since it’s how well they work together that makes it work. Granted it hasn’t been that long, but I took remembering songs from last time as a good sign. It almost always is. But the grunge, some shoegaze fuzz, the jangly strut, “hands in pockets,” as they put it. Cool band, man.

Valley of the Sun

I have a concern for Valley of the Sun being underappreciated that I can only describe as “oddly motherly.” Don’t tell them. Just you and me talking. But the truth of the matter is they’ve been kicking ass for a good while now and I guess I think of them as not hyped enough. Seriously, for all the Bandcamp-flavor-of-until-this-riff-ends bands that have come and gone in the time Valley of the Sun have made themselves into one of the most reliably killer heavy rock live acts this country has to offer, I feel like there’s more respect due. That’s all. They played a short set — guitarist/vocalist Ryan Ferrier said they were “in the neighborhood,” recording a new album to follow-up 2024’s Quintessence (review here), which is an enticing thought — but nothing new was aired. Still, I’ll take a run through a few classics alongside new burners, the last of which was the title-track of Quintessence, written somewhat differently on bassist Chris Sweeney’s setlist, a highlight well worthy of the greatest hits set out it rounded out. This was my second time watching Valley of the Sun this year after Planet Desert Rock Weekend V (review here), and when I shouted out for them to play a new one — followed by a “c’mon” that I issued as a gift on behalf of the state of New Jersey for them to take with them — Ferrier said to go to Brooklyn tomorrow for soundcheck. Tempting proposition.

WyndRider

“These songs are about satan, sluts and speed,” informed guitarist Robbie Willis right before WyndRider kicked into their set. Willis didn’t share vocals with singer Chloe Gould, but the mic was there mostly for shit-talking purposes, and that was reason enough. This was my first time seeing WyndRider, and they simultaneously, inevitably reminded me of the heyday of Southern sludge in some of their riffing, and had that air of Electric Wizardly cult nod as well. They were on tour through much of August and had just picked back up the night before in Richmond, but if they were rusty after like a week of not playing I wouldn’t be the one to know it. Their set — Willis and bassist Joshuwah Herald had their setlists written on porno-mag tearouts; I remember seeing Lo-Pan do that like 17 years ago and tee-heeing — did bring a new song, or one that, as Willis noted, wasn’t really new but wasn’t on an album yet, called “Crawlspace,” and along with “Motorcycle Witches,” their debut single “Electrophilia” and their encore of “Remember the Sabbath” made for highlights as they capped the evening. The latter they said they wrote after somebody called them “Sabbath worship” in a review as a pejorative. It wasn’t me. I think I’ve only ever used that phrase as a compliment. But anyhow, “Remember the Sabbath” underscored the point, with drummer Chase Karczewski (Ponddigger) doing the “Black Sabbath” toms in the quiet parts and everything. I was tired by then because I’m an old man and I wake up early, but that one last lurching groove — the product of a couple “one more song!” shouts from the crowd — was a welcome way to close it out. As a personal ethic, I rarely wear a shirt for a band I haven’t seen live, but I’ve had a WyndRider shirt in regular rotation for a while. Not a purchase I regret in the slightest.

Then I went home and did the dishes. True, except for the fact that I’m out of Cascade. But you know what? That’s Tomorrow-Me’s problem and I’ll leave it in his woefully incapable hands to deal with on my behalf. Thanks in advance, jerk.

And thanks to you for reading. You’re not a jerk.

More pics after the jump.

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Here we are in the Spring 2022 Quarterly Review. I have to hope and believe you know what this means by now. It’s been like eight years. To reiterate, 10 reviews a day for this week. I’ve also added next Monday to the mix because there’s just so, so, so much out there right now, so this Quarterly Review will total 60 albums covered. It could easily be more. And more. And more. You get the point.

So while we’re on the edge of this particular volcano, looking down into the molten center of the Quarterly Review itself, I’ll say thanks for reading if you do at any point, and I hope you find something to make doing so worth the effort.

Here we go.

Quarterly Review #1-10:

Spidergawd, VI

Like clockwork, Spidergawd released V (review here), in 2019, and amid the chaos of 2020, they announced they’d have a new record out in 2021 — already the longest pause between LPs of their career — for which they’d be touring. The Norwegian outfit — who aren’t so much saviors of rock as a reminder of why it doesn’t need saving in the first place — at last offer the nine songs and 41 minute straight-ahead drive of VI with their usual aplomb, energizing a classic heavy rock sound and reveling in the glorious hooks of “Prototype Design” and “Running Man” at the outset, throwing shoulders with the sheer swag of “Black Moon Rising,” and keeping the rush going all the way until “Morning Star” hints toward some of their prior psych-prog impulses. They’ve stripped those back here, and on the strength of their songwriting and the shining lights that seem to accompany their performance even on a studio recording, they remain incomparable in working to the high standard of their own setting.

Spidergawd on Facebook

Stickman Records website

Crispin Glover Records website

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Eight Bells, Legacy of Ruin

The first Eight Bells full-length for Prophecy Productions, Legacy of Ruin comes six years after their second LP, Landless (review here), and finds founding guitarist/vocalist Melynda Marie Jackson, bassist/guitarist/vocalist Matt Solis, drummer Brian Burke, a host of guests and producer Billy Anderson complicating perceptions of Pacific Northwestern US black metal. Across the six songs and in extended cuts like “The Well” and closer “Premonition,” Eight Bells remind of their readiness to put melodies where others fear tread, and to execute individualized cross-genre breadth that even in the shorter “Torpid Dreamer” remains extreme, whatever else one might call it in terms of style. “The Crone” and other moments remind of Enslaved, but seem to be writing a folklore all their own in that.

Eight Bells on Facebook

Prophecy Productions on Bandcamp

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Blue Rumble, Blue Rumble

Swiss four-piece Blue Rumble bring organically-produced, not-quite-vintage-but-retro-informed heavy psych blues boogie on their self-titled debut full-length, impressing with the sharp edges around which the grooves curve, the channel-spanning, shred-ready solo of the guitars, and the organ that add so much to where vocals might otherwise be. The five-minute stretch alone of second cut “Cosmopolitan Landscape,” which follows the garage urgency of opener “God Knows I Shoulda Been Gone,” runs from a mellow-blues exploration into a psych hypnosis and at last into a classic-prog freakout before, miraculously, returning, and that is by no means the total scope of the album, whether it’s the winding progressions in “Cup o’ Rosie (Just Another Groovy Thing),” the laid back midsection of “Sunset Fire Opal” or the hey-is-that-flute on the shorter pastoral interlude “Linda,” as if naming the song before that “Think for Yourself” wasn’t enough of a Beatles invocation. The strut continues unabated in “The Snake” and the grittier “Hangman,” and closer “Occhio e Croce” (‘eye and cross,” in Italian) shimmers with Mellotron fluidity atop its central build, leaving the raw vitality of the drums to lead into a big rock finish well earned. Heads up, heavy rock and rollers. This is hot shit.

Blue Rumble on Instagram

Blue Rumble on Bandcamp

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The Mountain King, WolloW

It’s palindrome time on Mainz, Germany’s The Mountain King‘s WolloW. Once the solo-project of guitarist/vocalist/programmer Eric McQueen, the experimentalist band here includes guitarist Frank Grimbarth and guest bassist Jack Cradock — you can really hear that bass on “II In Grium Imus Noctem Aram et Consumimur Igni” (hope you practiced your conjugations) and through five songs, they cross genres from the atmospheric heavygaze-meets-Warning of “I Bongnob” through the blackened crunch of the above-noted second cut to a gloriously dreamy and still morose title-track, and the driving expanse of “V DNA Sand.” Then they do it backwards, as “V DNA Sand” seems to flip halfway through. But they’re also doing it backwards at the same time as forward, so as The Mountain King work back toward album finale “bongnoB I,” what was reversed and what wasn’t has switched and the listener isn’t really sure what’s up or down, where they are or why. This, of course, is exactly the point. Take that, form and structure! Open your mind and let doom in!

The Mountain King on Facebook

Cursed Monk Records website

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Sheev, Mind Conductor

Berlin trio Sheev prove adept at skirting the line of outright aggression, and in fact crossing it, while maintaining control over their direction and execution. Mind Conductor is their debut album, and it works well to send signals of its complexity, samples and obscure sounds on “The Workshop” giving over the riffs of immediate impact on “Well Whined.” The channel-spanning guitar pulls on “Saltshifter,” the harmonies in the midsection of “All I Can,” the going-for-it-Danny–Carey-style drums on the penultimate “Baby Huey” (and bonus points for that reference) — all of these and so much more in the nine-song/53-minute span come together fluidly to create a portrait of the band’s depth of approach and the obvious consideration they put into what they do. Closer “Snakegosh” may offer assurance they don’t take themselves too seriously, but even that song’s initial rolling progression can’t help but wind its way through later angularities. It will be interesting to hear the direction they ultimately take over the course of multiple albums, but don’t let that draw focus from what they accomplish on this first one.

Sheev on Facebook

Sheev on Bandcamp

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Elk Witch, Beyond the Mountain

Dudes got riffs. From Medford, Oregon, Elk Witch draw more from the sphere of modern heavy rockers like earlier The Sword or Freedom Hawk than the uptempo post-Red Fang party jams for which much of the Pacific Northwest is known, but the groove is a good time just the same. The six tracks of Beyond the Mountain are born out of the trio’s 2021 debut EP — wait for it — The Mountain, but the four songs shared between the two offerings have been re-recorded here, repositioned and sandwiched between opener “Cape Foulweather” and closer “The Plight of Valus,” so the reworking feels consistent from front to back. And anyway, it’s only been a year, so ease up. Some light burl throughout, but the vocals on “Coyote and the Wind’s Daughters” remind me of Chritus in Goatess, so there’s some outright doom at work too, though “Greybeard Arsenal” might take the prize for its shimmering back-half slowdown either way, and “The Plight of Valus” starts out with a seeming wink at Kyuss‘ “El Rodeo,” so nothing is quite so simply traced. Raw, but they’ll continue to figure out where they’re headed, and the converted will nod knowingly. For what it’s worth, I dig it.

Elk Witch on Facebook

StoneFly Records store

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KYOTY, Isolation

If “evocative” is what New Hampshire post-metallic mostly-instrumentalists KYOTY were going for with their third full-length, could they possibly have picked something better to call it than Isolation? It’d be a challenge. And with opener “Quarantine,” songs like “Ventilate,” “Languish,” “Faith,” and “Rift,” “Respite” and closer “A Fog, A Future Like a Place Imagined,” the richly progressive unit working as the two-piece of Nick Filth and Nathaniel Parker Raymond weave poetic aural tapestries crushing and spacious in kind with the existential dread and vague flashes of hope in pandemic reality of the 2020s thus far. Still, they work in impressionist fashion, so that the rumbling crackle of “Onus” and the near-industrial slog of “Respite” represent place and idea while also standing apart as a not-quite-objective observer, the lighter float of the guitar in “Faith” becoming a wash before its resonant drone draws it to a close. At 70 minutes, there’s a lot to say for a band who doesn’t have lyrics, but spoken lines further the sense of verse, and remind of the humanity behind the programming of “Holter” or the especially pummeling “Rift.” An album deep enough you could listen to it for years and hear something new.

KYOTY on Facebook

Deafening Assembly on Bandcamp

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Red Eye, The Cycle

Andalusian storytellers Red Eye make it plain from the outset that their ambitions are significant, and the seven songs of their third full-length play out those ambitions across ultra-flowing shifts between serenity and heft, working as more than just volume trades and bringing an atmospheric sprawl that is intended to convey time as well as place. In 46 minutes, they do for doom and various other microgenres — post-metal, some more extreme moments in “Beorg” and the morse-code-inclusive closer “Æsce” — what earlier Opeth did for death metal, adding shifts into unbridled folk melody and sometimes minimalist reach. Clearly meant to be taken in its entirety, The Cycle functions beautifully across its stretch, and the four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Antonio Campos (also lyrics), guitarist/vocalist Pablo Terol, bassist Antonio Muriel and drummer Ángel Arcas, bear weight of tone and history in kind, self-aware that the chants in “Tempel” brim with purpose, but expressive in the before and after such that they wherever they will and make it a joy to follow.

Red Eye on Facebook

Alone Records store

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Stoned Horses, Stoned Horses

Originally recorded to come out in 2013, what would’ve been/is the Stoned Horses‘ self-titled debut full-length runs 12 tracks and swaps methodologies between instrumentalism and more verse/chorus-minded sludge rock. Riffs lead, in either case, and there’s a sense of worship that goes beyond Black Sabbath as the later “Scorpions Vitus” handily confirms. The semi-eponymous “A Stoned Horse” is memorable for its readiness to shout the hook at you repeatedly, and lest a band called Stoned Horses ever be accused of taking themselves too seriously, “My Horse is Faster Than Your Bike” is a sub-two-minute riffer that recalls late-’90s/early-’00s stoner rock fuckery, before everyone started getting progressive. Not short on charm, there’s plenty of substance behind it in “Le Calumet” like a northern Alabama Thunderpussy or the last cut, “The Legend of the Blue Pig,” which dares a bit more metal. Not groundbreaking, not trying to be, it’s a celebration of the tropes of genre given its own personality. I have nothing more to ask of it except what happened that it sat for nearly a decade without being released.

Stoned Horses on Facebook

From the Urn on Bandcamp

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Gnome, King

Antwerpen’s Gnome make it a hell of a lot of fun to trace their path across King, their second full-length, bringing in The Vintage Caravan‘s Óskar Logi early for “Your Empire” and finding a line between energetic, on-the-beat delivery and outright aggression, letting “Ambrosius” set the tone for what follows as they careen though cuts like the instrumental “Antibeast,” the swinging and catchy “Wencelas” and the crunching “Bulls of Bravik.” How do they do it? With the magic of shenanigans! As King (which “Wencelas” was) plays out, the suitably hatted trio get up to high grade nonsense on “Kraken Wanker” before “Stinth Thy Clep” and the 11-minute we-can-do-whatever-we-want-so-let’s-do-that-yes closer “Platypus Platoon” buries its later march amid a stream of ideas that, frankly, kind of sounds like it could just keep going. They are adventurous throughout the eight songs and 42 minutes, but have a solid foundation nonetheless of tone and consciousness, which are what save King from being a mess. It’s a hard balance to strike that they make sound easy.

Gnome on Facebook

Polderrecords website

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