Posted in Whathaveyou on September 4th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
There isn’t going to be a digital release for this one. I don’t think there’s any plan for putting it out on anything other than the 10 tapes that Montréal sludge metallers Seum will have for sale at the show they’re playing on Friday. So maybe it’s a little more like the band made a few DIY tapes for themselves and the merch table, but whatever, I dig this band and think that’s kind of cool. They released their second album, Double Double (review here), earlier this year, and that’s got enough disgust packed into it to go around, so if you can’t make it to l’Hémisphère Gauche at the end of this week, there’s still plenty to dive into should you be so inclined.
And considering the one-off nature of the June show that’s become the Ratseum cassette, that they’d want to preserve it, performing as two-thirds of the band did with Ratpiss vocalist Erin Faeth sitting in as singer. Well, I say one-off, but can’t help notice that Ratpiss are playing the gig Friday too, so there’s nothing to say an onstage guest spot can’t happen again with the full band. Stop me if you’ve heard this before, but it’s nice to have friends. And as as one who came of age in the 1990s, I’ll say as well that it’s also nice to make your friends tapes. Still cooler than CDRs.
From their socials:
Surprise: RATSEUM – Live Tape – Dropping on September 8th
On June 10th 2023, as Gaspard could not make it to our show at l’Hémisphère Gauche, he was replaced on Vocal by Erin, singer of the Montreal Power violence band Ratpiss.
For one night SEUM became… RATSEUM!
As the show ended up being recorded we decided to release it on tape as a memory.
Our friend Gorka made a logo, we fixed a quick cover and made 10 DIY copies.
Each copy is hand numbered, and that recording will only be available on tape.
The tape will be released on Friday September 8th on Bandcamp and during our show at The TraXide with Kapitur, Twin Banshee and #ratpiss.
Posted in Reviews on April 18th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
So here we are. A fascinating and varied trip this has been, and while I’m tempted to find some greater meaning in it as regards the ongoing evolution of genre(s) in heavy underground music, the truth is that the overarching message is really that it’s impossible to keep up with that complexity as it unfolds. Hitting 70 releases on this last day with another 50 to come in a couple weeks, I feel like there’s just so much out there right now, and that that is the primary signifier of the current era.
Whether it’s pandemic-born projects or redirects, or long-established artists making welcome returns, or who knows what from who knows where, the world is brimming with creativity and is pushing the bounds of heavy with like-proportioned force and intent. This hasn’t always been easy to write, but as I look at the lineup below of the final-for-now installment of the QR, I’m just happy to be alive. Thanks for reading. I hope you have also found something that resonates.
Quarterly Review #61-70:
Dommengang, Wished Eye
A fourth full-length from Dommengang — are they in L.A. now? Portland, Oregon? does it matter? — neatly encapsulates the heavy psychedelic scope and the organic-vibing reach that stands them out from the pack, as somehow throughout the nine songs of Wished Eye, the Thrill Jockey denizen trio are able to inhabit a style that’s the Americana pastoral wakeup of “Runaway,” the hill-howling “Society Blues,” the drift-fuzz of over solid drums of “Last Card,” the dense tube-burning Hendrixism of “Myth Time,” and the minimalist guitar of “Little Beirut.” And oh, it keeps going; each track contributing something to the lush-but-natural spirit of the whole work. “Blue & Peaceful” brings acoustics to its midsection jam, while “Petrichor” is the West Coast freedom rock you’ve been waiting for, the title-track goes inland for nighttime desertscaping that finishes in hypnotic loops on a likewise hypnotic fade, and “Flower” proves to be more vine, winding its way around the lead guitar line as the vocals leave off with a highlight performance prior a fire-blues solo that finishes the record as the amps continue to scream. Undervalued? Why yes, Dommengang are, and Wished Eye makes the argument in plain language. With a sonic persona able to draw from country, blues, psych, indie, doom, fuzz, on and on, they’ve never sounded so untethered to genre, and it wasn’t exactly holding them back in the first place.
Formerly the frontman of Richmond, Virginia, sludgers Gritter, Ryan Kent — who already has several books of poetry on his CV — casts himself through Dying Comes With Age as a kind of spoken word ringmaster, and he’s brought plenty of friends along to help the cause. The readings in the title-track, “Son of a Bitch” and the title-track and “Couch Time” are semi-spoken, semi-sung, and the likes of Laura Pleasants (The Discussion, ex-Kylesa) lends backing vocals to the former while Jimmy Bower (Down, EyeHateGod) complements with a low-key fuzzy bounce. I’ll admit to hoping the version of “My Blue Heaven” featuring Windhand‘s Dorthia Cottrell was a take on the standard, but it’s plenty sad regardless and her voice stands alone as though Kent realized it was best to just give her the space and let it be its own thing on the record. Mike IX Williams of EyeHateGod is also on his own (without music behind) to close out with the brief “Cigarettes Roll Away the Time,” and Eugene S. Robinson of Oxbow/Buñuel recounting an homage apparently to Kent‘s grandfather highlights the numb feeling of so many during the pandemic era. Some light misogyny there and in “Message From Someone Going Somewhere With Someone Else Who is Going Somewhere” feels almost performative, pursuing some literary concept of edge, but the aural collage and per-song atmosphere assure Dying Comes With Age never lingers anywhere too long, and you can smell the cigarettes just by listening, so be ready with the Febreze.
The first hook on Clamor Luciferi, in post-intro leadoff “Succubus,” informs that “Your god is poison” amid a gravitationally significant wall of low-end buzzfuzz, so one would call it business as usual for Sardinian lurch-doomers 1782, who answer 2021’s From the Graveyard (review here) with another potent collection of horror-infused live resin audibles. Running eight songs and 39-minutes, one would still say the trio are in the post-Monolord camp in terms of riffs and grooves, but they’ve grown more obscure in sound over time, and the murk in so much of Clamor Luciferi is all the more palpable for the way in which the guitar solo late in “Devil’s Blood” cuts through it with such clarity. Immediacy suits them on “River of Sins” just before, but one would hardly fault “Black Rites” or the buried-the-vocals-even-deeper closer “Death Ceremony” for taking their time considering that’s kind of the point. Well, that and the tones and grit of “Demons,” anyhow. Three records in, 1782 continue and odd-year release pattern and showcase the individual take on familiar cultism and lumber that’s made their work to-date a joy to follow despite its sundry outward miseries. Clamor Luciferi keeps the thread going, which is a compliment in their case.
What Seum might be seen to lack in guitar, they more than make up in disgust. The Montreal trio — vocalist Gaspard, bassist Piotr, drummer Fred — offer a mostly-hateful 32-minute low-end mudslide on their second album, Double Double, the disaffection leaking like an oily discharge from the speakers in “Torpedo” and “Snow Bird” even before “Dog Days” lyrically takes on the heavy underground and “Dollarama” sees the emptiness in being surrounded by bullshit. For as caustic as it largely is, “Torpedo” dares a bit of dirt-caked melody in the vocals — also a backing layer in the somehow-catchy “Razorblade Rainbow” and the closing title-track has a cleaner shout — and the bass veers into funkier grooves at will, as on “Dog Days,” the winding second half of “Snow Bird,” where the bassline bookending the six-minute “Seum Noir” reminds a bit of Suplecs‘ “White Devil” in its fuzz and feels appropriate in that. Shades of Bongzilla persist, as they will with a scream like that, but like their impressive 2021 debut, Winterized (review here), Seum are able to make the big tones move when they need to, to the point that “Dollarama” brings to memory the glory days of Dopefight‘s over-the-top assault. Righteous and filthy.
Clearheaded desert-style heavy rock is the thread running through Old Mine Universe‘s debut album, This Vast Array, but with a bit of blues in “No Man’s Mesa” after the proggy flourish of guitar in “Gates of the Red Planet” and the grander, keyboardy unfolding of “My Shadow Devours” and the eight-minute, multi-movement, ends-with-cello finale “Cold Stream Guards,” it becomes clear the Canadian/Brazilian/Chilean five-piece aren’t necessarily looking to limit themselves on their first release. Marked by a strong performance from vocalist Chris Pew — whom others have likened to Ian Astbury and Glenn Danzig; I might add a likeness to some of Jim Healey‘s belting-it-out there as well, if not necessarily an influence — the songs are traditionally structured but move into a jammier feel on the loose “The Duster” and add studio details like the piano line in the second half of “Sixes and Sirens” that showcase depth as well as a solid foundation. At 10 songs/47 minutes, it’s not a minor undertaking for a band’s first record, but if you’re willing to be led the tracks are willing to lead, and with Pew‘s voice to the guitar and bass of David E. and Todd McDaniel in Toronto, the solos from Erickson Silva in Brazil and Sol Batera‘s drums in Chile, it shouldn’t be a surprise that the tracks take you different places.
Although Olso-based riffers Saint Karloff have tasked Nico Munkvold (also Jointhugger) for gigs, the band’s third album, Paleolithic War Crimes, was recorded with just the duo of guitarist/vocalist Mads Melvold (also keys and bass here) and drummer Adam Suleiman, and made in homage to original bassist Ole Sletner, who passed away in 2021. It is duly dug-in, from the lumbering Sabbath-worship repetitions of “Psychedelic Man” through the deeper purple organ boogieprog of “Blood Meridian” and quiet guitar/percussion interlude “Among Stone Columns” into “Bone Cave Escape” tilting the balance from doom to rock with a steady snare giving way to an Iommi-circa-’75 acoustic-and-keys finish to side A, leaving side B to split the longer “Nothing to Come” (7:01), which ties together elements of “Bone Cave Escape” and “Blood Meridian,” and closer “Supralux Voyager” (8:26) with the brash, uptempo “Death Don’t Have No Mercy,” which — I almost hate to say it — is a highlight, though the finale in “Supralux Voyager” isn’t to be ignored for what it adds to the band’s aesthetic in its patience and more progressive style, the steadiness of the build and a payoff that could’ve been a blowout but doesn’t need to be and so isn’t all the more resonant for that restraint. If Munkvold actually joins the band or they find someone else to complete the trio, whatever comes after this will inherently be different, but Saint Karloff go beyond 2019’s Interstellar Voodoo (review here) in ambition and realization with these seven tracks — yes, the interlude too; that’s important — and one hopes they continue to bring these lessons forward.
Astral Sleep, We Are Already Living in the End of Times
Feels like a gimme to say that a record called We Are Already Living in the End of Times is bleak, but if I note the despair laced into the extremity of songs like “The Legacies” or “Torment in Existence,” it’s in no small part to convey the fluidity with which Finland’s Astral Sleep offset their guttural death-doom, be it with melancholic folk-doom melody as on the opening title-track, or the sweetly weaving guitar lines leading into the bright-hued finish of “Invisible Flesh.” Across its 46 minutes, Astral Sleep‘s fourth LP picks up from 2020’s Astral Doom Musick (review here) and makes otherwise disparate sounds transition organically, soaring and crashing down with emotive and tonal impact on the penultimate “Time Is” before “Status of the Soul” answers back to the leadoff with nine-plus minutes of breadth and churn. These aren’t contradictions coming from Astral Sleep, and while yes, the abiding spirit of the release is doomed, that isn’t a constraint on Astral Sleep in needing to be overly performative or ‘dark’ for its own sake. There’s a dynamic at work here as the band seem to make each song an altar and the delivery itself an act of reverence.
The second single in two months from New Jersey sludge slayers Devoidov, “Amputation” backs the also-knife-themed “Stab” and brings four minutes of heavy cacophonous intensity that’s as much death metal as post-hardcore early on, and refuses to give up its doomed procession despite all the harshness surrounding. It’s not chaotic. It’s not without purpose. That mute right around 2:40, the way the bass picks up from there and the guitar comes back in, the hi-hat, that build-up into the tremolo sprint and kick-drum jabs that back the crescendo stretch stand as analogue for the structure underlying, and then like out of nowhere they toss in a ripper thrash solo at the end, in the last 15 seconds, as if to emphasize the ‘fuck everything’ they’ve layered over top. There’s punk at its root, but “Amputation” derives atmosphere from its rage as well as the spaciousness of its sound, and the violence of losing a part of oneself is not ignored. They’re making no secret of turning burn-it-all-down into a stylistic statement, and that’s part of the statement too, leaving one to wonder whether the sludge or grind will win in their songwriting over the longer term and if it needs to be a choice between one or the other at all.
Norwegian fuzz rollers Wolfnaut claim a lineage that goes back to 1997 (their debut was released in 2013 under their old moniker Wolfgang; it happens), so seems reasonable that their fourth full-length, Return of the Asteroid, should be so imbued with the characteristics of turn-of-the-century Scandinavian heavy. They might be at their most Dozerian on “Crash Yer Asteroid” or “Something More Than Night” as they meet careening riffs with vital, energetic groove, but the mellower opening with “Brother of the Badlands” gives a modern edge and as they unfurl the longer closing pair “Crates of Doom” (7:14) and “Wolfnaut’s Lament” (10:13) — the latter a full linear build that completes the record with reach and crunch alike, they are strident in their execution so as to bring individual presence amid all that thick tone crashing around early and the takeoff-and-run that happens around six minutes in. Hooky in “My Orbit is Mine” and willfully subdued in “Arrows” with the raucous “G.T.R.” following directly, Wolfnaut know what they’re doing and Return of the Asteroid benefits from that expertise in its craft, confidence, and the variety they work into the material. Not life-changing, but quality songwriting is always welcome.
If you’re gonna go, take a compass. And if your compass can be made of primo fuzz riffing, isn’t it that much more useful? If not as an actual compass? Each of the four cuts on Washington D.C. instrumentalists Fuzz Voyage‘s Heavy Compass Demo coincides with a cardinal direction, so you get “South Side Moss,” “North Star,” “East Wind” and “West Ice Mountain.” These same four tracks featured across two separate ‘sessions’-type demos in 2020, so they’ve been fairly worked on, but one can’t discount the presentation here that lets “East Wind” breathe a bit in its early going after the crunching stop of “North Star,” just an edge of heavy psychedelia having featured in the northerly piece getting fleshed out as it heads east. I might extend the perception of self-awareness on the part of the band to speculating “South Side Moss” was named for its hairy guitar and bass tone — if not, it could’ve been — and after “East Wind” stretches near seven minutes, “West Ice Mountain” closes out with a rush and instrumental hook that’s a more uptempo look than they’ve given to that point in the proceedings. Nothing to argue with unless you’re morally opposed to bands who don’t have singers — in which case, your loss — but one doesn’t get a lot of outright fuzz from the Doom Capitol, and Fuzz Voyage offer some of the densest distortion I’ve heard out of the Potomac since Borracho got their start. Even before you get to the concept or the art or whatever else, that makes them worth keeping an eye out for what they do next.
[Click play above to stream Temple Fang’s Live at Freak Valley in its entirety. Album is out on CD April 21 through Stickman Records with preorders available here and through Electric Spark/Right on Mountain on LP with preorders available here.]
Temple Fang were smack in the middle of the fourth and final day of 2022’s Freak Valley Festival, Saturday, June 18. Their set (review here) was the centerpiece of the lineup, and by the time they went on, the assembled masses had long since been sun-baked and ear-blasted in a celebration of heavy vibe unto itself. The narrative — blessings and peace upon it — goes that just before being introduced by Volker Fröhmer, whose robust “liebe freunden” greets bands and fans alike in announcing each act to hit the stage and is a part of the ritual itself and features on many of the Live at Freak Valley-type releases but is absent here, the Amsterdam four-piece scrapped the setlist they were going to play.
Maybe it was material from their 2021 studio debut, Fang Temple (review here), or the then-unreleased Jerusalem/The Bridge EP (review here) that came out at the end of last year, but either way, they put it aside in favor of “Grace,” a yet-unrecorded single piece that would comprise the entirety of their set. Recorded by Niek Manders, the Stickman-backed Live at Freak Valley presents “Grace” in in full breadth, feeling likewise bold and searching in its approach as its circa-45-minute run holds sway in a series of builds and crashes, meditative and consuming in a way that live music, especially outside on a sunny day, can’t always be. By no means alone in this regard for that long weekend, it was nonetheless a beautiful, affirming moment to be alive.
Comprised of guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot, bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer, guitarist/keyboardist Ivy van der Veer (who also sings a little here) and drummer Egon Loosveldt, Temple Fang have — including Live at Freak Valley — now issued four live albums in the last three years, starting with 2020’s Live at Merleyn (review here) that was their first release. Put in a ratio to studio recordings, that’s four-to-one, at least as regards LPs; though I’ll gladly argue that Jerusalem/The Bridge wanted nothing for substance, so if it’s four-to-two, fine. Still, let that math — which gets even murkier when one considers the live-recorded basic tracks of Fang Temple — stand as testament to their ethic as a group and, amid the other narrative surrounding Live at Freak Valley, serve as a demonstration of their priorities.
At least thus far into their tenure and as much as has been possible over the last few years, they’re a live band. That they’d even be comfortable enough to step out on a stage and play a 45-minute-long song to a crowd that’s never heard it before supports the argument, let alone that they would consider releasing it afterward or that “Grace” unfolds in such a patient manner, fluidly shifting in volume and dynamic before its sweeping final movement, a multi-tiered apex with a subtly doomed riff at its foundation that turns to space rock and airy comedown lead work before another soloing tonal-wash crescendo. I don’t know if it was the first time Temple Fang had broken out “Grace” at a show, but standing in front of the stage and watching it happen at Freak Valley, it certainly felt like a landmark for them, which this release seals it as being.
Would it be too on-the-nose to call “Grace” graceful? Probably. But while the nature of from-stage recordings is such that the sundry little bumps and flubs along the way that go almost universally unnoticed by the crowd (and can define an evening for the band in question, whoever it might be) become part of the finished product, and that’s invariably the case here as well, the slow rise of effects noise and cymbals that begins it and shifts within two minutes to anticipatory howls of guitar set as fitting a scene as one could hope for what follows, in range as well as methodical delivery. Loosveldt‘s drums enter after the third minute with Duijnhouwer‘s bass, one guitar softly noodling, the other holding to undulating swells of manipulated feedback as they immerse the audience in the song-in-progress seemingly before it’s even started.
The first verse is Duijnhouwer‘s, and like the rest of “Grace,” it is rolled out gently, complemented by dual-channel echoing guitar solos from one lyrical stanza to the next, de Groot joining on vocals to deliver what no one knew then was the title of the song in a next-stage kind of arrival that more fully reveals the build that’s been taking place all the while beneath the entrancing sounds on the surface, consciousness buried but by no means absent from the proceedings, just sort of placed to the side in favor of the invitation to the crowd to get lost early and stay that way for the duration. Bass and drums hold steady as the guitar drops the scorch to allow the next verse to begin. Nine minutes have passed, whatever time used to mean, and they get back to what’s now revealed itself as the chorus, and at 10:30, a vocal culmination is met by a heavy surge, winding soloing from de Groot underscoring that first build’s payoff stretch.
It is, as noted, not the last. A jazzy flow distinguishes the next movement of “Grace,” making a Pink Floyd comparison feel both lazy and necessary as it re-coalesces and moves into more angular guitar on either side of the 18-minute mark, and though they hit into some improv-sounding urgency about five-to-six minutes later, they emerge unscathed from the freakout — Loosveldt at the foundation, as ever — as they pass 26 minutes into the track, and from there set up the massive ending noted above, fully hypnotic in going to ground and engrossing in the construction from there, the sense of destination apparent even as the journey there continues as from about 30 minutes on, Temple Fang are fully dug into this procession to be realized from there out, the weight of the lumber a few minutes later nod-rolling until more active guitar kicks in for the outward launch and carries through the (spoiler alert) false peak before they actually get to the top of that (right on) mountain, ending with a brief bit of serenity as they look out from it and see how far they’ve come before a noisy finish reinforces the point.
In releasing “Grace” on Live at Freak Valley, Temple Fang give the moment its due ceremony. The video of the set (filmed by Rockpalast) has been available for some time, but the capture of the song pressed on plastic feels especially crucial in light of the scope of the piece itself, and for those who were there, should be considered nothing less than essential. No brainer. Likewise, if you’ve followed Temple Fang to this juncture, “Grace” comes through as a significant forward step in a hopefully continuing progression of chemistry and craft, and while the single-song-album may be an endgame for many longform acts — one recalls de Groot and Duijnhouwer‘s decade-ago cosmic doom project Mühr offering the 47-minute one-tracker LP, Messiah (discussed here; review here), as their final outing in 2013; this isn’t that in sound or purpose, but it’s a relevant example given the personnel — Temple Fang seem to have found a place from which they can keep exploring, regardless of how long whatever they do next might end up being or not.
So maybe it wasn’t the set they had planned on playing, but Temple Fang‘s will to follow their instinct and bring “Grace” to life in front of the Freak Valley crowd more than earns this preservation. It was one in a weekend of righteous performances, but something special that comes through on Live at Freak Valley as shared between artists, art, and audience that now can stand even longer.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 28th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Montreal sans-guitar sludge rockers Seum released their second album, Double Double, earlier this month, and on March 31 they’ll bring their sometimes caustic and increasingly complex wares to the venerable Geno’s Rock Bar in Portland, Maine, entering the US for the first time as a band to play a show. This initial incursion is one of just two US dates — which, given how many US tours are billed as “North American” if they include two Canadian shows (and generally nothing in Mexico), seems like fair turnabout — and followed by a gig in Plattsburgh, New York, before they turn back north to do four more shows Ontario, but hell, that counts. International territory! For the first time! I’m not sure why I need these exclamation points!
You can stream Double Double (yeah, I know; it’ll be in the next Quarterly Review unless something comes up before; I’m doing my best, damnit) on the Bandcamp player below, and in oldschool fashion, the band sent the dates over with a hearty list of acts with whom they’ll be sharing stages. If you’ve never read a list of tour dates and come away with at least one band you’ve never heard of to check out, today might be your day. As for me, do I dare check out Shepherd of Rot? Or TV Moms? Think of it as the good kind of homework.
Info and dates from the PR wire. Cheers to Seum on going new places:
SEUM – DOUBLE DOUBLE Tour – 1st time in the US and Ontario
After the successful release of its second album DOUBLE DOUBLE, SEUM is about to visit the US and Ontario for the first time to defend their album on stage during the DOUBLE DOUBLE tour. Catch them here:
March 31st: Portland, ME (USA) at Geno’s Rock Bar with Necronomichrist, Candy Striper Death Orgy and Bloodborn April 1st: Plattsburgh, NY (USA) at Monopole with Shepherd of Rot, Grave Sight and Embers May 3rd: Hamilton, ON at The Doors with Desiccate + Holofernes Head May 4th: London, ON at The Richmond Tavern with Hunter Gatherer and TV Moms May 5th: Toronto, ON at Bar Orwell with Sun Below and Lousy Riders May 6th: Ottawa, ON at Avant-Garde with TBD (Org by Smol Audio)
SEUM is a Montreal Doom’n’Bass band formed by 3 European French Doom veterans expats formerly in Lord Humungus (Gaspard – vocals), Mlah! (Piotr – bass), and Uluun (Fred – drums). SEUM means Venom in Arabic and is French slang for disappointment and frustration.
The band is only using drums, vocals and bass, no guitars.
DOUBLE DOUBLE is SEUM’s sophomore album. Self-produced by the band and mastered by the legendary John Golden (Melvins, Sleep, Weedeater), the album is available on:
Posted in Reviews on January 4th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
In many ways, this is my favorite kind of Quarterly Review day. I always place things more or less as I get them, and let the days fill up randomly, but there are different types that come out of that. Some are heavier on riffs, some (looking at you, Monday) are more about atmosphere, and some are all over the place. That’s this. There’s no getting in a word rut — “what’s another way to say ‘loud and fuzzy?'” — when the releases in question don’t sound like each other.
As we move past the halfway point of the first week of this double-wide Quarterly Review, 100 total acts/offerings to be covered, that kind of thing is much appreciated on my end. Keeps the mind limber, as it were. Let’s roll.
Winter 2023 Quarterly Review #21-30:
White Hills, The Revenge of Heads on Fire
The narrative — blessings and peace upon it — goes that White Hills stumbled on an old hard drive with 2007’s Heads on Fire‘s recording files on it, recovered them, and decided it was time to flesh out the original album some 15 years after the fact, releasing The Revenge of Heads on Fire through their own Heads on Fire Records imprint in fashion truer to the record’s original concept. Who would argue? Long-established freaks as they are, can’t White Hills basically do whatever the hell they want and it’ll be at the very least interesting? Sure enough, the 11-song starburster they’ve summoned out of the ether of memory is lysergic and druggy and sprawling through Dave W. and Ego Sensation‘s particular corner of heavy psychedelia and space rocks, “Visions of the Past, Present and Future” sounding no less vital for the passing of years as they’re still on a high temporal shift, riding a cosmic ribbon that puts “Speed Toilet” where “Revenge of Speed Toilet” once was in reverse sequeling and is satisfyingly head-spinning whether or not you ever heard the original. That is to say, context is nifty, but having your brain melted is better, and White Hills might screw around an awful lot, but they’re definitely not screwing around. You heard me.
Weaving into and out of spoken word storytelling and lumbering riffy largesse, nine-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “She Up From the Drombán Hill” has a richly atmospheric impact on what follows throughout Dystopian Future Movies‘ self-issued third album, War of the Ether, the residual feedback cutting to silence ahead of a soft beginning for “Critical Mass” as guitarist/vocalist Caroline Cawley pairs foreboding ambience with noise rocking payoffs, joined by her Church of the Cosmic Skull bandmate Bill Fisher on bass/drums and Rafe Dunn on guitar for eight songs that owe some of their root to ’90s-era alt heavy but have grown into something of their own, as demonstrated in the willfully overwhelming apex of “The Walls of Filth and Toil” or the dare-a-hook ending of the probably-about-social-media “The Veneer” just prior. The LP runs deeper as it unfurls, each song setting forth on its own quiet start save for the more direct “License of Their Lies” and offering grim but thoughtful craft for a vision of dark heavy rock true both to the band’s mission and the album’s troubled spirit. Closer “A Decent Class of Girl” rolls through volume swells in what feels like a complement to “She Up From the Drombán Hill,” but its bookending wash only highlights the distance the audience has traveled alongside Cawley and company. Engrossing.
Though in part defined by the tectonic megasludge of “In the Dirt’s Embrace,” Filipino four-piece Basalt Shrine are no more beholden to that on From Fiery Tongues than they are the prior opening drone “Thawed Slag Blood,” the post-metallic soundscaping of the title-track, the open-spaced minimalism of closer “The Barren Aftermath” or the angular chug at the finish of centerpiece “Adorned for Loathing Pigs.” Through these five songs, the Manila-based outfit plunge into the darker, denser and more extreme regions of sludgy stylizations, and as they’ve apparently drawn the notice of US-based Electric Talon Records and sundry Euro imprints, safe to say the secret is out. Fair enough. The band guide “From Fiery Tongues,” song and album, with an entrancing churn that is as much about expression as impact, and the care they take in doing so — even at their heaviest and nastiest — isn’t to be understated, and especially as their debut, their ambition manifests itself in varied ways nearly all of which bode well for coming together as the crux of an innovative style. Not predicting anything, but while From Fiery Tongues doesn’t necessarily ring out with a hopeful viewpoint for the world at large, one can only listen to it and be optimistic about the prospects for the band themselves.
Post-metallic in its atmosphere, there’s no discounting the intensity Belgium trio Psychonaut radiate on their second album, Violate Consensus Reality (on Pelagic). The prog-metal noodling of “All Your Gods Have Gone” and the singing-turns-to-screaming methodology on the prior opener “A Storm Approaching” begin the 52-minute eight-tracker with a fervency that affects everything that comes after, and as “Age of Separation” builds into its full push ahead of the title-track, which holds tension in its first half and shows why in its second, a halfway-there culmination before the ambient and melodic “Hope” turns momentarily from some of the harsher insistence before it, a summary/epilogue for the first platter of the 2LP release. The subsequent “Interbeing” is black metal reimagined as modern prog — flashes of Enslaved or Amorphis more than The Ocean or Mastodon, and no complaints — and the procession from “Hope” through “Interbeing” means that the onslaught of “A Pacifist’s Guide to Violence,” all slam and controlled plunder, is an apex of its own before the more sprawling, 12-minute capper “Towards the Edge,” which brings guest appearances from Brutus‘ Stefanie Mannaerts and the most esteemed frontman in European post-metal, Colin H. van Eeckhout of Amenra, whose band Psychonaut admirably avoid sounding just like. That’s not often the case these days.
If you’re making your way through this post, skimming for something that looks interesting, don’t discount Sydney, Australia’s Robot God on account of their kinda-generic moniker. After solidifying — moltenifying? — their approach to longform-fuzz on their 2020 debut, Silver Buddha Dreaming, the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Raff Iacurto, bassist/vocalist Matt Allen and drummer Tim Pritchard offer the four tracks of their sophomore LP, Worlds Collide, through Kozmik Artifactz in an apparent spirit of resonance, drawing familiar aspects of desert-style heavy rock out over songs that feel exploratory even as they’re born of recognizable elements. “Sleepwalking” (11:25) sets a broad landscape and the melody over the chugger riff in the second half of “Ready to Launch” (the shortest inclusion at 7:03) floats above it smoothly, while “Boogie Man” (11:24) pushes over the edge of the world and proceeds to (purposefully) tumble loosely downward in tempo from there, and the closing title-track (11:00) departs from its early verses along a jammier course, still plotted, but clearly open to the odd bit of happy-accidentalism. It’s a niche that seems difficult to occupy, and a difficult balance to strike between hooking the listener with a riff and spacing out, but Robot God mostly avoid the one-or-the-other trap and create something of their own from both sides; reminiscent of… wait for it… worlds colliding. Don’t skip it.
Released in June 2022 and given a late-in-the-year vinyl issue seemingly on the strength of popular demand alone, AAWKS‘ debut full-length, Heavy on the Cosmic sets itself forth with the immersive, densely-fuzzed nodder riff and stoned vocal of longest track (immediate points) “Beyond the Sun,” which finds start-with-longest-song complement on side B’s “Electric Traveller” (rare double points). Indeed there’s plenty to dig about the eight-song outing, from the boogie in “Sunshine Apparitions,” the abiding vibe of languid grunge and effects-laced chicanery that pervade the crashouts of “The Woods” to the memorable, slow hook-craft of “All is Fine.” Over on side B, the momentum early in “Electric Traveller” rams headfirst into its own slowdown, while “Space City” reinforces the no-joke tonality and Elephant Tree-style heavy/melodic blend before the penultimate mostly-instrumental “Star Collider” resolves itself like Floor at half-speed and closer “Peeling Away” lives up to its title with a departure of psychedelic soloing and final off-we-go loops. The word-of-mouth hype around AAWKS was and is significant, and the Ontario-based four-piece tender three-dimensional sound to justify it, the record too brief at 39 minutes to actually let the listener get lost while providing multiple opportunities for headphone escapism. A significant first LP.
The core methodology of Polish trio Smokes of Krakatau across their self-titled debut seems to be to entrance their audience and then blindside them with a riffy punch upside the head. Can’t argue if it works, which it does, right from the gradual unfurling of 10-minute instrumental opener “Absence of Light” before the chunky-style riff of “GrassHopper” lumbers into the album’s first vocals, delivered with a burl that reminds of earlier Clutch. There are two more extended tracks tucked away at the end — “Septic” (10:07) and “Kombajn Bizon” (11:37) — but before they get there, “GrassHopper” begins a movement across four songs that brings the band to arguably their most straightforward piece of all, the four-minute “Carousel,” as though the ambient side of their persona was being drained out only to return amid the monolithic lumber that pays off the build in “Septic.” It’s a fascinating whole-album progression, but it works and it flows right unto the bluesy reach of “Kombajn Bizon,” which coalesces around a duly massive lurch in its last minutes. It’s a simplification to call them ‘stoner doom,’ but that’s what they are nonetheless, though the manner in which they present their material is as distinguishing a factor as that material itself in the listening experience. The band are not done growing, but if you let their songs carry you, you won’t regret going where they lead.
Is it the riff-filled land that awaits, or the outer arms of the galaxy itself? Maybe a bit of both on Bellingham, Washington-based trio Carrier Wave‘s four-song self-titled debut, which operates with a reverence for the heft of its own making that reminds of early YOB without trying to ape either Mike Scheidt‘s vocal or riffing style. That works greatly to the benefit of three-piece — guitarist/vocalist James Myers, bassist/vocalist Taber Wilmot, drummer Joe Rude — who allow some raucousness to transfuse in “Skyhammer” (shortest song at 6:53) while surrounding that still-consuming breadth with opener “Cosmic Man” (14:01), “Monolithic Memories” (11:19) and the subsequent finale “Evening Star” (10:38), a quiet guitar start to the lead-and-longest track (immediate points) barely hinting at the deep tonal dive about to take place. Tempo? Mostly slow. Space? Mostly dark and vast. Ritual? Vital, loud and awaiting your attendance. There’s crush and presence and open space, surges, ebbs, flows and ties between earth and ether that not every band can or would be willing to make, and much to Carrier Wave‘s credit, at 42 minutes, they engage a kind of worldmaking through sound that’s psychedelic even as it builds solid walls of repetitive riffing. Not nasty. Welcoming, and welcome in itself accordingly.
With mixing/mastering by Chris Fielding (Conan, etc.), the self-released first full-length from Tel Aviv’s Stash wants nothing for a hard-landing thud of a sound across its nine songs/45 minutes. Through Rose Coloured Glasses has a kind of inherent cynicism about it, thanks to the title and corresponding David Paul Seymour cover art, and its burl — which goes over the top in centerpiece “No Real” — is palpable to a defining degree. There’s a sense of what might’ve happened if C.O.C. had come from metal instead of punk rock, but one way or the other, Stash‘s grooves remain mostly throttled save for the early going of the penultimate “Rebirth.” The shove is marked and physical, and the tonal purpose isn’t so much to engulf the listener with weight as to act as the force pushing through from one song to the next, each one — “Suits and Ties,” “Lie” and certainly the opener “Invite the Devil for a Drink” — inciting a sense of movement, speaking to American Southern heavy without becoming entirely adherent to it, finding its own expression through roiling, chugging brashness. But there’s little happenstance in it — another byproduct of a metallic foundation — and Stash stay almost wholly clearheaded while they crash through your wall and proceed to break all the shit in your house, sonically speaking.
Though it opens serene enough with birdsong and acoustic guitar on “Intro(vert,” the bulk of Lightsucker‘s second LP, Stonemoon is more given to a tumult of heavy motion, drawing together elements of atmospheric sludge and doom with shifts between heavy rock groove and harder-landing heft. And in “Pick Your God,” a little bit of death metal. An amalgam, then. So be it. The current that unites the Finnish four-piece’s material across Stonemoon is unhinged sludge rock that, in “Lie,” “Land of the Dead” and the swinging “Mob Psychosis” reminds of some of Church of Misery‘s shotgun-blues chaos, but as the careening “Guayota” and the deceptively steady push of “Justify” behind the madman vocals demonstrate, Lightsucker‘s ambitions aren’t so simply encapsulated. So much the better for the listening experience of the 35-minute/eight-song entirety, as from “Intro(vert)” through the suitably pointy snare hits of instrumental closer “Stalagmites,” Lightsucker remain notably unpredictable as they throw elbows and wreak havoc from one song to the next, the ruined debris of genre strewn about behind as if to leave a trail for you to follow after, which, if you can actually keep up with their changes, you might just do.
One could not accuse Temple Fang of not making the most of their 2022. In addition to following the late-2021 release of their debut album, Fang Temple (review here), with a vinyl issue through Electric Spark this past Spring, signing to Stickman Records to release the 2CD just last month, touring and making stops at the likes of Roadburn, Freak Valley (review here) and frickin’ Duna Jam, releasing 2020’s Live at Merleyn (review here) on tape and hosting their own inaugural Right on Mountain Festival in Nijmegen, the Amsterdam-based four-piece will wrap the year on Nov. 29 — tomorrow — by issuing Jerusalem/The Bridge, a 21-minute, two-song offering on Electric Spark and Right on Mountain that pushes their sound even further.
And in fascinating ways. They offer the narrative below, and the timing is a little opaque, but as the band — guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot, bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer, guitarist/pianist Ivy van der Veer and drummer Egon Loosveldt — looked to integrate Loosveldt into the lineup, it seems they essentially did so by writing together. “Jerusalem” (10:04) and “The Bridge” (11:44) came about as a part of that. They had already moved forward from Fang Temple, the basic tracks for which were taken from live recordings, and though they were ostensibly touring to support that album, would head out with new songs in tow, and having seen them perform live this summer, I can tell you first hand that what they present on stage is a vision of cosmic psychedelia very much their own.
“Jerusalem” and “The Bridge” capture an emerging duality in progress, structurally and in terms of presentation. Duijnhouwer and de Groot switch out as lead vocalists between the two, and each has a strong persona coming through the material. For Duijnhouwer, he fronts the mellow-space-riffer “Jerusalem” very much in command of the proceedings, not a krautrock auteur — the band’s vibe is too collaborative for such things — but aware of the audience and mindful of the engagement of the listener. a A hairy roll of groove is duly underscored by righteous-punch bass, and a verse/chorus pattern unfolds, molten but catchy, across the song’s first half before a short break of guitar introduces the build on which they’re about to embark.
Enter van der Meer on piano — an element one does not expect (or hope, for that matter) Temple Fang are utilizing for the last time — as an essential part of the lush fluidity that ensues. In plotted but exploratory fashion — that is, they know where they’re going even if they’re willing to throw in a few turns en route — the band coalesce toward a mini-apex, a dropdown and rebuild, pushed into prog territory by Loosveldt‘s snare work alone, never mind the trades in guitar lines between de Groot and van der Meer or the winding conclusion that seems to end the song suddenly despite the distance traveled. “Jerusalem” is vibrant, a push in tempo and rhythm but not a shove, memorable in its early chorus, and it insists on nothing because it doesn’t need to. By the time they’re done with it, the case is well and gorgeously made.
“The Bridge” also has a build, but is less business-up-front-party-in-the-back (the mullet structure) in enacting it. There’s little hint early of the consuming wash of distortion to come, but a standalone guitar introduction clues the listener immediately to the shift toward outright exploration. There are verses, a chorus of sorts, but as de Groot takes over on vocals, with Duijnhouwer seeming to answer each measure of the initial echoing vocal lines on bass, the direction is handwriting-on-page lyrically and there’s a patience in how the track plays out that feels like a departure from “Jerusalem” even as the tonal richness of the guitar and bass is consistent. A second-ish verse is backed by headphone-ready, am-I-imagining-this whispers circa the five-minute mark as the volume continues to grow into the chorus, and it’s when the howl of lead guitar starts that the song reveals its full scope.
The great irony of “The Bridge” is that it never really lets go of its structure. But it sounds like it does. “Jerusalem,” on the other hand, drops the verse/chorus tradeoffs for an instrumental back end while coming across as more straightforward. This is Temple Fang. As “The Bridge” slow-careens through its somewhat understated payoff, it’s more about spiritual realization than pummeling volume, and the execution remains dynamic — which is to say, it’s not like they get to a riff, ride it out for four or eight lines and end the song; there’s more happening — and Loosveldt and Duijnhouwer hold the central progression together even as the guitars seem intent on pulling it apart at around eight minutes in. There’s a comedown, a quick resurgence, and over bass and sparse guitar, de Groot ends with cyclical recitations of the chorus lyric; the band letting go with gentleness that probably shouldn’t be as surprising as it is.
It is a tale of the going and the gone, and what does any of it mean? Well, we exist in an incomprehensible universe that’s either expanding around us at all times every single atom or perhaps already contracting in an unstoppable crush of everything and who the hell even knows. So what does anything mean? We live, maybe, and we die. Maybe there’s solace in that truth — it is a thing to know — but if you want to talk about rock and roll, it means that Temple Fang have left Fang Temple behind, and that their first album, glorious as it was, was not the sum total of what they have to offer by a longshot in sound or style. Not one for betting, but I’d wager Jerusalem/The Bridge isn’t either, and rather that the real heart of the band is in the process of manifestation, the sheer creativity itself. However they choose to interact with their audience, whatever route they take to entrancing the crowd before them, real or imagined, it is the journey that will define them and the journey that they’re for and with which they’re searching and communing.
Jerusalem/The Bridge is streaming in its entirety on the player below, and I feel fortunate to host it ahead of the release tomorrow. The prior-alluded background follows in blue, courtesy of the band.
Thanks and enjoy:
When we found our new drummer Egon Loosveldt in August of 2021 we had 5 weeks with him to prepare for the upcoming run of shows we had booked, the first ‘real’ shows after the pandemic.
Because our first ever jams with him were so inspired, instead of teaching him the old songs we decided we were gonna go off the deep end and write a totally new set of material, a bit of a risky move as we didn’t know how audiences were going to react to us playing all new stuff but a decision essential to us as a band and what we hold sacred, the music and the moment.
We also knew, as the official tour started in April 2022, we wanted to hit the road hard and therefore wouldn’t have time to do much recording. However, when we heard our beloved Galloway Studios in Nijmegen was to be demolished and build back up from scratch at a different location, we knew we wanted one last chance to record there. So in May 2022, after doing three shows in Switzerland and Austria, we drove 700+ miles from Graz to Nijmegen, set up our backline and recorded what was essentially our live set at the time while the building around us was being torn down, slowly covering everything in a layer of dust.
The two songs on this EP represent two different poles of Temple Fang. Sung by Dennis, Side A (“Jerusalem”) is a hard hitter, born from the original sessions with Egon and featuring a surprise turn on piano from Ivy. This take was done right after setting up our gear and checking sounds, the only one we ended up doing of this song.
Sung by Jevin, Side B (“The Bridge”) was a song we had been kicking around for a while, originally intended for “Fang Temple” but not fully realised until a few weeks before this tour. A slow-burner, harboring a lot of tension and not much release. Thanks for listening, XO DD/TF
Jerusalem/The Bridge is released in an edition of 500 on black vinyl, 300 through Electric Spark and 200 through Right on Mountain. Digital through Stickman.
Produced, engineered and mixed by Sebastiaan van Bijlevelt at Galloway Studio, Nijmegen Assistance by Niek Manders Mastered by Alex McCollaugh at True East Mastering, Nashville Art and Design by Right On Mountain Music by Temple Fang
Temple Fang is: Dennis Duijnhouwer: Vox, Bass Jevin de Groot: Vox, Guitar Ivy van der Veer: Guitar, Piano Egon Loosveldt: Drums
Posted in Whathaveyou on June 23rd, 2022 by JJ Koczan
There are a LOT of links below, you’re right. Not my fault everybody wants to put out Basalt Shrine. And it raises questions about how regional distribution is to be handled in a world of increased shipping costs for independent businesses (labels, etc.) and the rest of us out here trying to pick up cool records. Will bands have to go country-by-country in a world that, economically speaking, was declared flat however many decades ago?
Maybe. Hell if I know. Basalt Shrine released From Fiery Tongues on Bandcamp only on June 13 and have quickly reaped a heap o’ praise for their work on it, with which you won’t find me arguing. You can stream the release below and you’ll see that the vinyl edition preorders are coming through Electric Spark Records, while other formats are out through other outlets around Europe and the rest of the world.
Here you go:
BASALT SHRINE ‘From Fiery Tongues’ 12″ Vinyl now up for pre-order via Electric Spark Records
Pre-order the vinyl edition via the following link: https://www.electricsparkrecords.com/products/basalt-shrine-from-fiery-tongues
Buy/Stream the digital album here: https://basaltshrine.bandcamp.com/
The vinyl edition of Filipino Doom/Post-Metal quartet Basalt Shrine is now up on Dutch Record Label – Electric Spark Records. Coming out on High-quality 180 grams Black Vinyl. Comes with a black polylined inner sleeve and polybag protective sleeve, double-sided insert with lyrics and specially mastered for Vinyl with an alternate track sequencing.
Tracklisting (digital): 1. Thawed Slag Blood 05:08 2. In The Dirt’s Embrace 10:51 3. Adorned For Loathing Pigs 07:56 4. From Fiery Tongues 08:16 5. The Barren Aftermath 08:38
Physical copies (Vinyl, CD, CS) available via the following labels:
EUROPE
Electric Spark (Netherlands) / Vinyl http://www.electricsparkrecords.com
Surrogate Rec. (Ukraine) / Jewel Case CD http://www.surrogaterec.com
Cruel Nature Records (UK) / Special Edition Cassette Tape http://cruelnaturerecordings.bandcamp.com
Three Moons Records (Poland) / Limited Edition Cassette Tape http://www.threemoonsrecords.com
Aim Down Sight Records (Germany) / Limited Edition Cassette Tape http://aimdownsightrecords.bandcamp.com
USA
Electric Talon Records (Philadelphia) / Digipak CD / Cassette http://www.electrictalonrecords.com
ASIA
PAWN (Ph) / Cassette Tape http://pawnrecords.com
Harrowing Industries (Indonesia) / Digipak CD http://harrowingindustries.bandcamp.com
Basalt Shrine: Bobby Legaspi (Surrogate Prey, Malicious Birth) Rallye Ibanez (Ex-Religious Nightmare, Surrogate Prey) Ronaldo Vivo (Dagtum, The Insektlife Cycle, Abanglupa, Imperial Airwaves, Ex-Hateure) Ronnel Vivo (Dagtum, The Insektlife Cycle, Abanglupa, Imperial Airwaves, Ex-Hateure)
