First, you have to understand that The Rambler, shady though the name might be, was awesome. The kind of awesome that has Westmalle at 3.50 Euro. I thought I was playing it safe — hell, I had the dubbel and not the tripel — but the fact that I’d eaten nothing up to that point in the day but a protein bar came back to haunt me. By the time I sauntered out of The Rambler, I was sloshed.

The good news is that tragedy — and by that I mean vomit — was avoided. And between arrival at and departure from The Rambler, massively good times ensued watching Trippy Wicked and the Cosmic Children of the Knight, Stubb and Stone Axe play to an enthusiastic room that included several faces I recognized from Desertfest this weekend. I’d gotten into Eindhoven just a few hours prior, and was ready to have a little beery fun.

Chatted it up with the bands for a while, all of whom I saw last Friday (Stone Axe twice) and already had a few in me by the time Trippy Wicked took the stage. They’d soundchecked prior and the room — Xmas lights, wood floor, racks of CDs in the corner, full-size coffins to mark the men’s and women’s restrooms and Queens of the Stone Age‘s Lullabies to Paralyze on the P.A. — had pretty good acoustics. For rock. The stage area was wider than it was long, and I guess The Rambler was kind of a dive, but classier than that, even with the coffins. It was toying with country, is another way to put it. Again, it turned out to be a cool spot.

Unfortunately, riding around in a tour van all weekend had left Trippy Wicked guitarist/vocalist (and Stubb bassist/vocalist) Peter Holland with a cold. He looked and reportedly felt like hell, but wasn’t about to cancel the set; the show, going on, so forth. He rested up and before they played and when they got going, he played most of the set with his distortion off and changed the setlist to accommodate. I’ve seen Holland and drummer Christopher West do Trippy Wicked acoustic, so hearing the songs not as loud as they might otherwise be wasn’t really anything new, and in the semi-country surroundings, with the slight twang Holland puts on his singing voice, it actually sounded pretty good when they did “Southern” and “The Water.”

Later into their time, Stone Axe frontman Dru Brinkerhoff brought Holland some whiskey and, his voice already pretty blown out, I guess he figured there was no more harm he could do. The distortion was kicked on and he was full-on dry-throating it through the end. Admirable, and again, it didn’t sound that bad. Heavy rock works with a gravely voice, so while it wasn’t necessarily the most representative outing for the band, though Holland, West and bassist Dicky King all played really well and the songs got their point across. I’m looking forward to checking out their new album, not just because Holland has grown so much as a vocalist, but also because both times I’ve seen the band now, their chemistry has been top notch. It was a casual night — at one point, Holland remarked on how he knew everyone in the crowd — but even so, Trippy Wicked rocked like pros and only got better as they kept going.

Holland still had to get through Stubb‘s set, so he wasn’t yet off duty. After a bit of a break, West went back to the drums, Holland moved over to bass, opting out of a microphone, which left guitarist/vocalist Jack Dickinson in charge of covering all the vocals. He did it, and did it well, and since most of the audience, myself included had already seen the band in the last week, everyone knew what was up and it was fine. Stone Axe drummer Mykey Haslip got up and shared Dickinson‘s mic for the chorus of “Mountain,” and “Hard Hearted Woman” and “Road” were great to hear again, even with the single vocals. Straight-backed and keeping perfect time while also executing a barrage of fills, West showed his versatility as a drummer and was a pleasure to watch, and by the end, even Holland was singing along. It was more of a party than a show, almost.

“Galloping Horses,” which closes their new, Superhot Records self-titled debut (review here) was especially killer, Dickinson shifting his inflection and timing just a bit to make a full verse out of the repeated line, “The skies are crimson red” and taking a long solo in the semi-psychedelic midsection before coming back for one last chorus. They’re pretty straightforward in terms of style, but more even than the record showed potential, the live show confirmed it. I’d say I’m excited for what Stubb do next — and I am — but don’t let that imply that I’m at all finished with the self-titled, because it’s got way more than two months of staying power. Classic fuzz is timeless.

And speaking of classic, Stone Axe are a band I could very easily get used to seeing on a regular basis. This was the third set in five days (granted, one was the Free covers set, but still), and I was only more stoked for having some idea of what was in store. They got going as I was wrapping what would not turn out to be my last beer, and seemed more relaxed than at Desertfest. Brinkerhoff looked to be pretty well in the bag, but his voice was spot on, and the hooch only added to the swagger of his stage presence, which along with Tony Reed‘s guitar, is an essential element of the band. The aforementioned Haslip on drums and bassist Mike DuPont showed their prowess as a rhythm section behind, and though standing on the left side of the stage, it was almost like watching two acts at once, they were undeniably on the same page with the same mission in mind.

Their set ran long, which, you know, was awesome, and they threw in “The Skylah Rae” and “Taking Me Home” along with “Black Widow” and “Riders of the Night” from the first album and “Chasing Dragons,” “Just a Little Bit” and the excellent “Ain’t Gonna Miss It” from the second. “The Skylah Rae” in particular was something special, but Stone Axe‘s AC/DC stomp was in top form the whole time, and everyone was smiles and laughs and drinks and seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves through each catchy as hell chorus, Brinkerhoff driving home the memorability of Reed‘s songwriting every chance he got. And for his part, Reed demonstrated once again his clear mastery of the classic heavy rock form, backing Brinkerhoff on vocals every now and again and tearing through worship-worthy solos with what he made look like ease.

When it was over, I was more or less finished with the day. Several nights of less than stellar sleep had left me tired enough, and Westalle, though delicious, makes a lousy energy drink, so I said goodbyes and thanks and split out for the two block walk back to my hotel room, stopping along the way for pommes frites and more beer which I ended up crashing out before I could drink. It seems funny to say it, since all I’m going to be doing starting tomorrow for four days straight is seeing bands at Roadburn, but it was awesome to see a show over here that was just a gig, not a fest. Just another stop on a tour. Eindhoven’s a beautiful town and this was a really good night I won’t soon forget. I’m just glad I remember it.

More pics after the jump.

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04/11/12 — 11.06 — Wednesday — Hotel in Eindhoven

I called the Mercure Hotel in Tilburg last night to see if I could get my room a day early and got a big “no dice” — actually, they were much more polite than that; they always are there — so, whilst Skyping with The Patient Mrs., I decided to just stay here in Eindhoven the extra day and take the intercity train the one stop over tomorrow. In the meantime, where I am in Eindhoven is gorgeous, and I’m thrilled to get to spend another day here.

Since I started off the last post talking about something I was missing, it seems only fair to do the opposite this time around and mention something I’m really glad I have with me, which is Febreeze. Yes, the clothing de-stinker. I brought two flannels and a hoodie for outerwear and at this point, none of it is especially pleasant to put on, but at least with the spray-stuff, I know I’m just grossing myself out. Hopefully anyway.

Had some pommes frites last night after the Stone Axe, Stubb and Trippy Wicked show, and though I asked the dude to leave them in the fryer for a while longer — well-done fries being where it’s at, as far as I and fries are concerned — he didn’t believe me. I got two cans of beer to top off an already considerable evening of drinking, and came back to the hotel to put on the Yankee game and crash out. The frites were delicious. No mayo, please.

Being here the extra day, staying over tonight as well, meant no check-out this morning, which was a big part of sealing that deal. The chance to sleep in and wake up without “gotta go”-type stress. Hard not to appreciate that after waking in London to go to Paris and waking in Paris to come to Eindhoven. Today I woke up in Eindhoven and I’m staying in Eindhoven. Nice to have solid ground under my feet.

And nicer still to wake up to a sky that’s at least partially blue. Quite a novelty. I might be about half hungover, but forget it, I’m going to go walk around the gorgeous market center here and make an afternoon of it, try to exist for a while someplace that’s not a hotel room. Maybe a shower first to get the beer sweat and the sleep sweat off. Yeah, that’s probably the way to go.

04/10/12 — 17.33 — Tuesday — Hotel in Eindhoven

To contrast the great many things that have gone right with this trip, my biggest mistake so far has been not bringing my notebook with me. I thought about it. It’s at home in the typewriter case I generally carry on my person to and from work, in the car, etc., that’s also filled with CDs. My reasoning in not bringing it was that I had the laptop and this site would fill any note-taking need that might arise.

That’s been one of the most surprising things about it since the beginning, over three years ago now. I used to write furiously in notebooks. Creative nonfiction, memoir, personal journal, poems, any other word you might want to substitute for “diary,” and I was right in there — I just called it “taking notes” — but I guess the daily writing itch got transposed onto The Obelisk. Apparently, anyway. I haven’t filled a notebook in years. It used to be a matter of months. And I’d just buy one here somewhere, but (of course) I have a very specific kind I use and wouldn’t want to start one that’s the wrong kind and not have it be in another one that’s already started and it’s a big weirdo complex obsessive compulsive thing, so sorry if it doesn’t make sense.

Nonetheless, there have been things I’ve seen that I’ve forgotten to note, images that I’ve wanted to remember, that I’ve had to let go of in that moment. The tall trees lining Avenue de la Bourdonnais in Paris. Listening to Mars Red Sky and Alcest at Gare du Nord this morning on the iContraption while staring up at the big board and waiting to find out what track my train would be on, drinking the espresso I properly ordered in French (bit of vindication there for fucking up that same process two years ago in Brussels). Today I started to take pictures to help me remember, though I wasn’t sure how to convey the fact that I couldn’t stay still for too long at Gare du Nord without being asked for change in a way that wasn’t totally rude.

Paris was beautiful though. I know it might not seem like I “did it up” or anything like that, but just because a bottle of wine and a sandwich is probably what I’d be doing were I back in my humble river valley doesn’t mean that I also didn’t enjoy myself immensely. It was more about being there. And I was there. I saw the Eiffel Tower. I smelled the Seine. I took in equestrian statues and gorgeous architecture and felt totally overwhelmed by what to my outsider eyes looked like the total perfection of the European ideal. If it wasn’t so miserable weather-wise, I might have explored more, but maybe not. It was less than 24 hours that I was there, but fuck it, I was there.

Last night when I posted that I was heading to Schiphol to come to Eindhoven, the faulty logic in my routing was responded to almost immediately, and that’s genuinely appreciated. I wound up taking a train from Paris to Rotterdam and then switching trains to go from Rotterdam to Eindhoven, and I just got here a little more than an hour ago. It was a Thalys, which wasn’t as lush as the Eurostar I took yesterday from London to Paris (was that yesterday?), but still nicer than any airliner I’ve ever had the misfortune to occupy. The train passed through Tilburg on route, and I saw they had giant Roadburn 2012 banners outside the Tilburg station, like the flags you’d see in a college town in the States the first week of the semester. I could only assume there’s a big, “Welcome, Awkward Doomers” sign on the ground level, but I’ll have to wait until I get there tomorrow to find out for sure. Got my fingers crossed.

It’s good to be back in the Netherlands. I’m still almost completely ignorant of the language beyond “dank u wel” and “alstublieft,” so it hardly feels like home,  but even in being out of my element, the Netherlands is more familiar to me than was Paris, though I have more command of the French language — just enough to be initiate a conversation and then have the other person switch to English because they’re tired of hearing me murder their mother tongue. I had on the new The Machine record on the way and was listening to the quiet beginning of “Behind” by Sungrazer as I rolled past a group of rabbits chasing each other around open farmland just outside Dordrecht. The iContraption has weak bass, even with the boost turned on in the EQ, but the warmth of tone came through anyway.

My point is that the relative familiarity of it here is comforting. When I came out of the train station, I just followed a couple turns through the market square until I recognized a statue from looking at it on Google Maps last night and found my hotel from there. I had no directions, and just made the turns that felt right. That’s more bearings than I’ve had in five days, though by the end of Desertfest, I was beginning to feel like I had a handle on those couple blocks of Camden Town. Still. I just got here, and I’ve never been to Eindhoven before, so I think it’s a different scale all around.

I also passed by The Rambler on my way out of the train station, which is where I’ll go in a little bit to catch Trippy Wicked and the Cosmic Children of the Knight with Stubb and Stone Axe. I guess I’ll probably bring the camera, just for fun, and maybe do a writeup tonight or tomorrow. I’ll have some time tomorrow and if I can just find a spot to relax when I go to Tilburg in advance of Roadburn starting up on Thursday, that’d be ideal. No problem spending all day in front of the laptop at some outdoor cafe or something like that, weather permitting. It’s rained more or less every day of this trip. Made me glad I’m not flying, what with the whole “airborne deathboxes” thing and all.

At its heart, the approach of Dutch occult rockers The Devil’s Blood comes down to two words: “Hail Satan.” It’s a rallying cry of contradiction, the basis for their musical and lyrical perspective, and what lies at the very heart of their influence. In everything they do, it remains the calm center around which they swirl their storm.

Founded by guitarist/songwriter Selim Lemouchi and his sister, the powerful vocalist Farida Lemouchi, the Eindhoven-based band were subject to fervent reactions almost immediately. Following a 2007 demo and the 2008 single, The Graveyard Shuffle, their Come, Reap EP was a blatantly devilish call to arms that stood in stark musical contrast with the thematic conventions of extreme metal with which it was toying. On their first full-length, 2009’s The Time of No Time Evermore (review here), The Devil’s Blood set about offsetting classic rock with ethereal psychedelic washes, and on their latest album, The Thousandfold Epicentre (review here), they’ve mastered their form.

With a massive, 74-minute sprawl, The Thousandfold Epicentre makes no attempt to hide its grandiosity or self-indulgence, instead celebrating its blatant atmospherics while also maintaining a strong core of songcraft that can be heard on the flagrant hooks in “Die the Death” or the centerpiece “She.” Through it all, Farida keeps supreme hold of her charisma, and Selim‘s instrumental melodicism behind her makes for one of the underground’s most intriguing pairings. The Devil’s Blood owe more to Coven‘s “Black Sabbath” than Black Sabbath‘s “Black Sabbath,” but as Selim hints in the interview that follows, the band revels in doing what’s unexpected.

And since in order to hold onto an element of Satanic mysticism one must be vague in discussing processes, the word “hints” is all the more appropriate. Nonetheless, Selim, who often goes by the initials SL, was open in acknowledging his band’s theatricality and his own classic pop and heavy rock influences, from The Beatles and Thin Lizzy to Roky Erickson and Black Widow. If you make it that far, a particularly fascinating moment came near the end, in talking about touring and playing high-profile festivals (The Devil’s Blood will be on the Decibel magazine North American tour with Watain, In Solitude and Behemoth this spring; dates included below) as opposed to club shows. Just something to watch out for, if you’re interested.

Please find the enclosed Q&A with Selim Lemouchi after the jump, and enjoy.

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A self-recording and self-releasing instrumental guitar and drum duo, you could probably call Dutch stoner rockers Het Droste Effect experimental or progressive if you take it in the context of the genre at large. On their debut EP, Het Droste Effect, there are a few twists to be found among the riffs and noodles from guitarist Hermann Blaupunkt, and with the slew of guests contributing bass, sax, vibrawhathaveyou and so forth, the band is definitely trying to make themselves stand out sonically, which pays off on these four tracks.

“Balsem voor de Oren” is pretty straightforward riff rock à la Karma to Burn with an edge of the smartness that 35007 brought to the table, but Het Droste Effect delves into psychedelic territory with the longer “Sweet Dreams Bandito,” and at just over a minute, “Helluva Dirty K9” shows a willingness to be playful with their songwriting that one might liken to Queens of the Stone Age and their many followers, but that’s more of a comparison of ethic than sound.

The EP rounds out with “Lolita Can Dance,” where Blaupunkt and drummer Thompson Dubé are joined by Siem Nozza on bass and Edward Capel on the aforementioned saxophone, which complements the guitar surprisingly well. The song breaks in the middle to some studio-type shenanigans, showing one more time Het Droste Effect‘s penchant for experimentation, but for a band who’s been together little more than a year, they have a surprising grasp on what works for them.

If you want to check out Het Droste Effect, they’re on Facebook here. The EP is available for free download through their Bandcamp page and for sale on cassette via their website, and because this is an age of technical wonders, you can stream the whole thing on the player below:

Dutch witch rockers The Devil’s Blood issue a sprawling invitation to buy in with their first Ván Records full-length, The Time of No Time Evermore. Based out of Eindhoven and thoroughly in league with Satan, the as-many-as-six-piece play high-energy classic occult prog with sonic references to Jefferson Airplane, Heart, Coven and Black Widow, most notably showing up in the form of the powerful female vocals that front the band. They’re on a no-name basis, so all you get with The Devil’s Blood is The Devil’s Blood, but we do know that Erik Danielsson of Swedish black metallers Watain co-wrote “The Yonder Beckons” with the band, and that that dude knows the Devil personally, so at most there’s one degree of separation there.

In listening to The Time of No Time Evermore, I was surprised in comparing it to the prior Come, Reap EP that Profound Lore put out last year at how relatively metal it is. The guitars don’t shy away from carrying across an ‘80s metal vibe, as heard in songs like “Christ or Cocaine,” the stomping “Queen of My Burning Heart” and even the soloing on “The Yonder Beckons.” Think Iron Maiden, Scorpions, Vivian Campbell’s work on Dio’s The Last in Line and so on, both tonally and in terms of the riffs, The Devil’s Blood seem to have superimposed ‘70s acid prog and classic metal on top of each other in an offering to their (and, they hope, everyone’s) dark lord.

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