Posted in Questionnaire on April 24th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Asko Nousiainen and Joonas Hämäläinen from Serotonin Syndrome
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
Asko: Back in time I used to sing in different bands, but nowadays I find myself more and more in the background. I organize gigs and do lots of roadie stuff for other bands.
Joonas: I started playing guitar as a teen when heavy metal came into my life. Since then, it has been a part of my life – sometimes more, sometimes less. Now I’m very pleased to play in three bands with nice and talented people with different taste of music.
Describe your first musical memory.
Asko: I think it was an instrumental rock band called The Shadows that my parents used to listen at home when I was little kid.
Joonas: I remember being in my father’s car on the way home from the daycare when I heard a popular Finnish song “Mä oon rekkamies”(“I’m a trucker”) and tried to sing along.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
Asko: There are many good memories but not one rises above others. One of best feelings is when the sense of place and time disappears. It can happen during your own or other band’s gig.
Joonas: I won a chance to go on stage with Iron Maiden at the age of 18, through a fan club. It was at Helsinki Olympic Stadium in front of 42 000 people.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
Asko: I feel this every time the road ahead seems to be filled with blocks and there is not enough belief left in my pockets.
Joonas: The release of the latest album. It took a long time and covid messed things up even more.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
Asko: Salvation, or to the point where there is nothing more to do or say. When the glass is empty.
Joonas: It takes you to a happy place where nothing matters, and everything goes smoothly.
How do you define success?
Asko: When you are satisfied with your own achievements and feel successful.
Joonas: When someone finds the work you’ve made to be wonderful, beautiful, or touching in some way.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Asko: Some relationships have ended over the years. Fortunately, new ones have arrived.
Joonas: Once a full case of beer fell to the floor and broke.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
Asko: I aspire to create one song/album that includes all the emotions the human mind can think of.
Joonas: It would be cool to write a song that would possibly help a person in a difficult life situation or otherwise become an important song in their life.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Asko: The purpose of art is to make you feel something – and very strongly. The form doesn’t matter.
Joonas: Art must evoke either positive or negative emotions. Mere confusion hasn’t worked for me, like filming cat killing videos in the name of art.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Asko: That the spoon doesn’t exist.
Joonas: I’m waiting for the aliens to come and tell us we’re all fucked up.
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
After making their their sophomore full-length, 2022’s Meadow (review here), Turku, Finland’s Slowenya push outward with the impending two-songer Angel Raised Wolves b/w Horizontal Loops. The new short outing, which will see release next week, is about 10 minutes long, but that’s plenty enough time for the trio to run through a mini-gamut of melodic, cosmic crush, noise rock, dug-in nod and ensuing ambient spread. I don’t know if they’re planning a 7″ or anything — “Angel Raised Wolves” is 6:39, which would be long for an A-side — but the vibe is right on either way to catch ears from anyone who might’ve missed the album, which, you know, that shit happens.
To me pretty much daily. Accordingly, if you heard Meadow or didn’t, these two tracks are a chance to get introduced before their third album’s arrival, which is slated for September. No audio yet, but that’ll come next week, so keep an eye out, and one assumes the band will have more live activity as well around the LP’s release, so I’ll keep an eye on festival lineups because I know if I was booking a bill over there (I’m not, but it would be fun), they’d be a standout worth inviting.
From the PR wire:
SLOWENYA CONTINUES TO CREATE CRUSHING AND BEAUTIFUL SOUNDSCAPES (DOUBLE SINGLE OUT 4/28/23)
Alt. doom trio Slowenya (from the Southwest of Finland, founded in 2020) releases a double single on Friday, April 28, 2023 (Karhuvaltio Records). The double single presents different aspects of the upcoming full-length album which will be released in late September 2023.
“Angel Raised Wolves” is a more contemplative and ethereal composition, while “Horizontal Loops” combines old school death metal with low tuned modern riffing, with distorted screams and sampled soundscapes layered on top.
Angel Raised Wolves is lyrically a tribute to the Canidae family (dog species) and about embracing every moment we are allowed to share with them. Horizontal Loops is lyrically about trying to understand and relate with the natural progression of things.
Slowenya will play in Riga and Tallinn early May 2023.
SLOWENYA: Jan Trygg – guitar / vocals / synths Timo Niskala – drums / ambient / samples Tapani Levanto – bass / backing vocals
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.
Posted in Reviews on April 17th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Kind of an odd Quarterly Review, huh? I know. The two extra days. Well, here’s the thing. I’ve already got the better part of a 50-record QR booked for next month. I’ve slid a few of those albums in here to replace things I already covered blah blah whatever, but there’s just a ton of stuff out right now, and a lot of it I want to talk about, so yeah. I tacked on the two extra days here to get to 70 records, and in May we’ll do another 50, and if you want to count that as Spring (I can’t decide yet if I do or not; if you’ve got an opinion, I’d love to hear it in the comments), that’s 120 records covered even if I start over and go from 1-50 instead of 71-120. Any way you go, it’s nearly enough that you could listen to two records per week for the next full year based just on two weeks and two days of posts.
That’s insane. And yet here we are. Two weeks in a row wouldn’t have been enough, and any more than that and I get so backed up on other stuff that whatever stress I undercut by covering a huge swath in the QR is replaced by being so behind on everything that isn’t said QR. Does that make sense at all? No? Well fine then. Shit.
Quarterly Review #51-60:
Ecstatic Vision, Live at Duna Jam
This is a good thing for everyone. Here’s why: For the band? Easy. They get a new thing to sell at the merch table on their upcoming European tour. Win. For the label? Obviously the cash from whatever they sell, plus the chance to showcase one of their acts tearing it up on European soil. “Check out how awesome this shit is plus we’re behind it.” Always good for branding. For fans of the band, well, you already know you need it. I don’t have to tell you that. But Ecstatic Vision‘s Live at Duna Jam — as a greater benefit to the universe around it — runs deeper than that. It’s an example to follow. You wanna see, wanna hear how it’s done? This is how it’s done, kids. You get up on that stage, step out on that beach, and you throw everything you have into your art, every fucking time. This is who Ecstatic Vision are. They’re the band who blow minds like the trees in the old videos of A-bomb tests. They’ve got six songs here, a clean 38-minute live LP, and for the betterment of existence in general, you can absolutely hear in it the ferocity with which Ecstatic Vision deliver live. The fact that it’s from Duna Jam — the ultimate Eurofest daydream — is neat, but so help me gawd they could’ve recorded it in a Philly basement and they’d still be this visceral. That’s who they are. And if we, as listeners, are lucky, others will hear this and follow their example.
Oppressive in atmosphere regardless of volume but with plenty of volume to go around, Portland all-doomers Usnea return after six years with their third full-length, Bathed in Light, a grueling and ultimately triumph-of-death-ant work spanning six songs and 43 minutes of unremitting drear positioned in the newer-school vein of emotionally resonant extreme death-doom. Plodding until it isn’t, wrenching in its screams until it isn’t, the album blossoms cruelties blackened and crushing and makes the chanting in “Premeditatio Malorum” not at all out of place just the same, the slow-churning metal unrelentingly brutal as it shifts into caustic noise in that penultimate track — just one example among the many scattered throughout of the four-piece turning wretched sounds into consuming landscapes. The earlier guitar squeals on “The Compleated Sage” would be out of place if not for the throatripping and blastbeating happening immediately prior, and whether it’s the synth at the outset and the soaring guitar at the end of “To the Deathless” or the Bell Witchian ambient start to closer “Uncanny Valley” — the riff, almost stoner — before it bursts to violence at three minutes into its 8:27 on the way to a duly massive, guttural finish for the record, Usnea mine cohesion from contradictions and are apparently unscathed by the ringer through which they put their audience. Sometimes nothing but the most miserable will do.
The more one listens to Kingdom Cold, the impressive Magnetic Eye Records debut LP from Melbourne, Australia’s Oceanlord, the more there is to hear. The subtle Patrick Walker-style edge in the vocals of “Kingdom” and the penultimate roller “So Cold,” the Elephant Tree-style nod riff in “2340,” the way the bass underscores the ambient guitar and layered melodies in “Siren,” the someone-in-this-band-listens-to-extreme-metal flashes in the guitar as “Isle of the Dead” heads into its midsection, and the way the shift into and through psychedelia seems so organic on closer “Come Home,” the three-piece seeming just to reach out further from where they’ve been standing all the while for the sake of adding even more breadth to the proceedings. If the Magnetic Eye endorsement didn’t already put you over the edge, I hope this will, because what Oceanlord seem to be doing — and what they did on their 2020 demo (review here), where “Isle of the Dead” and “Come Home” appeared — is to work from a foundation in doom and slow-heavy microgenres and pick the elements that most resonate with them as the basis for their songs. They bring them into their own context, which is not something everyone does on their fifth record, let alone their first. So if it’s hearing the potential that gets you on board, fine, but the important thing is you should just get on board. They’re onto something, and part of what I like about Kingdom Cold is I’m not sure what.
Thoroughly fuzzed and ready to rock, Reading, UK, three-piece Morass of Molasses follow 2019’s The Ties That Bind (review here) with their third album and Ripple Music label debut, End All We Know, breaking eight songs into two fascinatingly-close-to-even sides running a total of 37 minutes of brash swing and stomp as baritone guitarist/vocalist Bones Huse, bassist Phil Williams and drummer Raj Puni embrace more progressive constructions for their familiar and welcome tonal richness. With Huse‘s vocals settling into a Nick Oliveri-style bark on opener “The Origin of North” and the likes of “Hellfayre” and “Naysayer” on side A, the pattern seems to be set, but the key is third track “Sinkhole,” which prefaces some of the changes the four cuts on side B bring about, trading burl and brash for more dug in arrangements, psychedelic flourish on “Slingshot Around the Sun” and “Terra Nova” — they’re still grounded structurally, but the melodic reach expands significantly and the guitar twists in “Terra Nova” feel specifically heavy psych-derived — before “Prima Materia” combines those hazy colours with prog-rock insistences and “Wings of Reverie” meets metallic soloing with Elder-style expanse. Not a record they could’ve made five years ago, End All We Know comes through as a moment of realization for Morass of Molasses, and their delivery does justice to the ambition behind it.
Real headfucker, this one. And I’ll admit, the temptation to leave the review at that is significant, since so much of the intent behind Fuzzy Grapes‘ Volume 1 seems to be a headfirst dive into the deepweird, but the samples, effects, of course fuzz and gong-and-chant-laced brazenness with which the Flagstaff, Arizona, unit set out on “Sludge Fang,” the Mikael Åkerfeldtian growls in “Snake Dagger” and the art-surf poetry reading in “Dust of Three Strings” that becomes a future cavern of synth and noise before the “Interlude” of birdsong and meditative noodling mark a procession too individual to be ignored. Three songs, break, three songs, break goes the structure of the 25-minute debut offering from the five-piece outfit, and by the time “The Cosmic Throne” begins its pastoral progadelic “ahh”s and dreamy ride cymbal jazz, one should be well content to have no idea what’s coming next. Once upon a time elsewhere in the Southwest, there was a collective of kitchen-sink heavy punkers named Leeches of Lore, and Fuzzy Grapes tap some similar adventurousness of spirit, but rarely is a band so much their own thing their first time out. “Made of Solstice” harsh-barks to offset its indie-grunge verse, fleshing out the bassy roll with effects or keys from the chorus onward, jamming like Blind Melon just ran into Amon Amarth getting gas at the Circle K. “Goatcult” ties together some of it with the harsh/chant vocal blend and a cymbal-led push, finishing with the line “Every day the world is ending” before the epilogue “Outro” plays like a vintage 78RPM record singing something about when you’re dead. Don’t expect to understand it the first time though, or maybe the first eight, but know that it’s worth pursuing and meeting the band on their level. I want to hear what they do next and how/if their approach might solidify.
Conveying genuine emotionality and reach in the vocals of Michelle Malley, the four-track Solace EP from L.A.’s Iress turns its humble 16 minutes into an expressive soundscape of what the kids these days seem to call doomgaze, with post-rock float in the guitar of Graham Walker (who makes his first appearance here) atop the solemn and heavy-bottomed grooves of bassist Michael Maldonado and drummer Glenn Chu for a completeness of experience that’s all the more immersive on headphones in a close-your-eyes kind of listen — that low contemplation of bass after 2:20 into “Soft,” for example, is one of a multitude of details worth appreciating — and though leadoff piece “Blush” begins with a quick rise of feedback and rolls forth with a distinct Jesu-style melancholy, Iress are no less effective or resonant in the sans-drums first two minutes of “Vanish” in accentuating atmosphere before the big crash-in finishes and “Ricochet” offers further dynamic display in its loud/quiet trades, graceful and unhurried in their transitions, the surge of the not-cloying hook densely weighted but not out of place either behind “Vanish” or ahead of “Soft,” even as it’s patience over impact being emphasized as Malley intones “I’m not ready” as a thread through the song. Permit me to disagree with that assessment. The whole band sounds ready, be it for a follow-up album to 2020’s Flaw (which was their second LP) or whatever else may come.
Long-running Finnish troupe Frogskin ooze forth with extremity of purpose even before the harsh-throated declarations of 10-minute opener “Mistress Divine” kick in, and III – Into Disgust maintains the high (or purposefully low, depending on how you want to look at it) standard that initial millstone-slowness sets as “Of Vermin and Man” (8:30) continues the scathe and tension in its unfolding and the somehow-thicker, sample-inclusive centerpiece “Serpent Path” (7:21) highlights violent intention on the way to the shift that brings the atmosphere forward on the two-minute still-a-song “B.B.N.T.B.N.” — the acronym: ‘Bound by nature to be nothing’ — which feels likewise pathological and methodical ahead of closer “The Pyre” (11:46). One might expect in listening that at some point Frogskin will break out at a sprint and start either playing death or black metal, grindcore, etc., but no. They don’t. They don’t give you that. And that’s the point. You don’t get relief or release. There’s no safe energetic payoff waiting. III – Into Disgust is aural quicksand, exclusively. Do not expect mercy because there’s none coming.
No strangers to working in longform contexts or casting spacier fare amid their doom-rooted riffery, Helsinki’s Albinö Rhino downplay the latter somewhat on their single-song Return to the Core full-length. Their first 12″ since 2016’s Upholder (review here), the trio of guitarist/vocalist/Moogist Kimmo Tyni, bassist/vocalist VH and drummer Viljami Väre welcome back Scott “Dr. Space” Heller (also of Space Rock Productions, Øresund Space Collective, etc.) for a synthy guest appearance and Mikko Heikinpoika on vocals and Olli Laamanen on keys, and the resultant scope of “Return to the Core” is duly broad, spreading outward from its acoustic-guitar beginning into cosmic doom rock with a thicker riff breaking doors down at 9:30 or so and a jammed-feeling journey into the greater ‘out there’ that ensues. That back and forth plays out a couple times as they manifest the title in the piece itself — the core being perhaps the done-live basic tracks then expanded through overdubs to the final form — but even when the song devolves starting after the solo somewhere around 22 minutes in, they’re mindful as well as hypnotic en route to the utter doom that transpires circa 24:30, and that they finish in a manner that ties together both aspects tells you there’s been a plan at work all along. They execute it with particular refinement and fluidity.
Self-released posthumous to the defunctification of the Quebecois band itself, Mystic Vulture ends up as a rousing swansong for what could’ve been from Cleõphüzz, hitting a nerve with “Desert Rider”‘s blend of atmosphere and grit, cello adding to the space between bass and guitar before the engrossing gang chants round out. With its 46 minutes broken into the two sides of the vinyl issue it will no doubt eventually receive, the eight-song offering — their debut, by the way — makes vocal points of the extended “Desperado” with its organ (I think?) mixed in amid the classic-style fuzz and “Shutdown in the Afterlife” bringing the strings further to the center in an especially spacious close. But whether it’s there or in the respective intros “The End” and “Sarcophage” or the proggy float of “Sortilège” or the Canadiana instrumental and vocal exploration of the title-track itself, Mystic Vulture flows easily across its material, varied but not so far out as to lose its human underpinning, and is more journey than destination. It’s gotten some hype — I think in part because the band aren’t together anymore; heavy music always wants what it can’t have — but in arrangement as well as songwriting, Cleõphüzz crafted the material here with a clear sense of perspective, and the apparent loss of potential becomes part of hearing the album. Some you win, some you lose. At least they got this out.
Expansive metal. Azimuth is the fourth long-player and first in seven years from Chicago progressive/post-metallers Arriver, who answer melody with destruction and crunch with sprawl. From opener “Reenactor” onward, they follow structural paths that are as likely to meld meditative psych with death metal (looking at you, “Only On”) as they are to combust in charred punker aggro rage on “Constellate” or second track “Knot.” The 10-minute penultimate title-track would seem to represent the crossroads at which these ideas meet — a summary as much as anything could hope to be — but even that isn’t the end of it as “None More Unknown” makes dramatic folkish proclamations before concluding with a purposeful nod. “In the Only” winds lead guitar through what might otherwise be post-hardcore, while “Carrion Sun” duly reeks of death in the desert, the complexity of the drum work alone lending gotta-hear status. Plenty of bands claim to be led by their songs. I won’t say I know how Arriver assembled these pieces to make the entirety of Azimuth, but if the band were to say they sat back and let the record write itself and follow its own impulses, I’d believe them more than most. Bound to alienate as well as engage, it is its own thing in its own place, and commanding in its moments of epiphany.
Posted in Reviews on April 12th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to day three of the Spring 2023 Quarterly Review. Traditionally, this is where the halfway point is hit, like that spot on the wall in the Lincoln Tunnel where it says New York on the one side and New Jersey on the other. That’s not the case today — though it still applies as far as this week goes — since this particular QR runs seven days, but one way or the other, I’m glad you’re here. There’s been an absolutely overwhelming amount of stuff so far and I don’t expect that to change anytime soon, so don’t let me keep you, except maybe to say that if you’re actually reading as well as browsing Bandcamp (or whoever) players, it is appreciated. Thanks for reading, to put it another way.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Signo Rojo, There Was a Hole Here
As lead/longest track — yes, immediate points — “Enough Rope” shifts between modern semi-melodic heavy burl post-Baroness to acoustic-tinged flourish to rolling shout-topped post-hardcore on the way back to its soaring chorus, yes, it’s fair to say Sweden’s Signo Rojo establish a broad swath of sounds on their third full-length, There Was a Hole Here. Later they grow more massive and twisting on “What Love is There,” while “Also-Ran” finds the bass managing to punch through the wall of guitar around it (not complaining) and the concluding “BotFly” lets its lead guitar soar over a crescendo that’s almost post-metal, so they want nothing for variety, but whether it’s “The World Inside” with its progressive chug or the more swaying title-track, the songs are united by tone in the guitars of Elias Mellberg and Ola Bäckström, the shouty vocals of bassist Jonas Nilsson adding aggressive edge, and the drums of Pontus Svensson reinforcing the underlying structures and movements. Self-recorded, mixed by Johan Blomström and mastered by Jack Endino for name-brand recognition, There Was a Hole Here is angles and thrown-elbows, but not disjointed. Tumultuous, they power through and find themselves unbruised while having left a few behind them.
Stunning first album. Vancouver’s Tribunal — the core duo of cellist/bassist/vocalist Soren Mourne and guitarist/vocalist Etienne Flinn, working on their first record, The Weight of Remembrance, with Julia Geaman on drums on the seven-song/47-minute sprawl of bleak, goth-informed death-doom — resound with purpose between the atmosphere and the dramaturge of their material. “Apathy’s Keep” (Magdalena Wienski on additional drums) alone would tell you they’re a band with a keen sense of what they want to accomplish stylistically, but the patience in execution necessary from the My Dying Bride-esque back and forth shifts between harsh and clean vocals on opener “Initiation” to the grim, full-toned breadth of the 12-minute finale “The Path,” on which Mourne‘s severity reminds of Finland’s Mansion, and yes that’s a compliment, while Flinn finds new depths from which to gurgle out his harsh screaming. The semi-titular piano interlude “Remembrance” is well-placed at the end of side A to make one nostalgic for some lost romance that never happened, and the stop-chug of “A World Beyond Shadow” seem to speak to SubRosa‘s declarative majesty as well as the more extreme spirit of Paradise Lost circa ’91-’92, Tribunal crossing eras and intentions with an organic meld that hints there and in “Without Answer” or the airy cello of “Of Creeping Moss and Crumbled Stone” earlier at even grander and perhaps more orchestral things to come while serving as one of 2023’s best debuts in the interim. Like finding your great grandmother’s wedding dress, picking it up out of the box and having the dried-out fabric and lace crumble in your hands. Sad and necessary.
From whence came Finland’s Bong Corleone? Well, from Finland, I guess, but that hardly answers the question on planetary terms. Information is sparse and social media presence is nil from the psychedelic-stoner-doom explorers, who string synth lines through four mostly-extended pieces on this self-titled, self-released, seemingly self-actualized argument for dropping out of life and you know the rest. Second cut “Gathering” (8:34) sees lead guitar step in for where vocals might otherwise be, but there and in the prior leadoff “Chemical Messenger” (9:15), synthesizer plays a prominent role that’s been compared rightly to Mammoth Weed Wizard Bastard, though “Gathering” departs in for a midsection meander-jam that lets itself have and be more fun before crashing back around to the roll. As it invariably would, “Astrovan” (6:18) shoves faster, but the synth stays overtop along with some floating guitar, and the sense of control remains strong even in the second half’s splurge and slowdown, shifting with ambient drone and residual amp hum into 11-minute closer “Offering,” which rounds out with a sample, what might be a bong rip, and a density of fuzz that apparently Bong Corleone have been keeping in their collective pocket all the while, crushing and stomping before turning to more progressive exploration later. It’s a substantial enough release at 35 minutes that the band might — like MWWB before them — regret the silly name, but even if they never follow it with anything, the immersion factor in these four songs shouldn’t be discounted. May they (if in fact it’s more than one person) never reveal a lineup.
This second full-length from Wisconsin-based solo-project Old Spirit — formed and executed at the behest of Jason Hartman (Vanishing Kids, sometimes Jex Thoth) — Burning in Heaven feels at home in contradictions, whether it’s the image provoked by the title or in the songs themselves, be it the Celtic–Frost-on-Monster–Magnet‘s-pills “Dim Aura” or the electro Queens of the Stone Age shuffle in “Ash,” or the Candlemass-meets-Chrome succession of “Fallacy,” or the keyboard and guitar interlude “When the Spirit Slips Away.” The title-track opens and has an oldschool ripper solo late, but there’s so much going on at any given moment that it’s one more element thrown in the mix as much as a precursor to the later reaches of “Angel Blood” — a Slayer nod, or two, perhaps? — which precedes the emergent wash of “Bleak Chapel” and the devolution undertaken from song to drone that gives over to closer “In Dismay,” which seems all set in its garage-goth doom rollout until the tempo kick brings it and the record to a place of duly dug-in progressive psych-metal oddness. Fitting end to a record clearly meant to go wherever the hell it wants and on which the rawness of the production becomes a uniting factor across otherwise willfully disparate material, skirting the danger that it all might collapse on itself while proselytizing individualist fuckall; Luciferian without being outright Satanic.
Argentina’s Los Acidos return after reissuing 2016’s self-titled debut (review here) in 2020 through Necio Records with Stereolalo, putting emphasis on welcoming listeners from the outset with the opening title-track and “Ascensor,” which are the two longest cuts on the record (double points) and function as world-builders in terms of establishing the acoustic/electric blend and melodic flourish with which much of the 50-minute outing functions. Like everything, the blend is molten and malleable, as shorter pieces like “Atardecer” or side B’s build-to-boogie “Madre” and the keyboard-backed psych-funk verses of “Atenas” show, and they resist the temptation to really blow it out as they otherwise might even in those first two tracks; the church organ seeming to keep the penultimate “Interior” in line before “Buscando el Mar” calls out ’60s psych on guitar with a slow-careening progression from whatever kind of keyboard that is, ending almost folkish, having said what they want to say in the way they want to say it. Light in atmosphere, there nonetheless are deceptive depths from which the songs seem to swim upward.
Rites for the Damned offers the kind of aesthetic sprawl that can only be summarized in vague catchall tags like ‘progressive,’ with the adventurous and ambitious Norwegian outfit JAGGU threatening extremity on “Carnage” at the beginning of the eight-song/40-minute LP while instead taking the angularity and thrust and through “Earth Murder” fostering an element of noise rock that feeds its aggression into “Mindgap” before the six-minutes-each pair of “Electric Blood” and “Lenina Ave.” further reveal the breadth, hooks permeating the amalgam of heavy styles being bent and reshaped to suit the band’s expressive will, the latter building from acoustic-inclusive post-metallic balladry into a solo that seems to spread far and wide as it draws the listener deeper into side B’s reaches, the dizzying start of “Enthralled,” post-black-metal-but-still-metal “Marching Stride” — more of a run, actually — and the prog-thrash finale “God to be Through” that caps not to bring it all together, but to celebrate the variations encountered along the course and highlight the skill with which JAGGU have been guiding the proceedings all along, unsettled in their approach on this second record in such a way as to speak to perpetual growth rather than their being the kind of band who’ll find a niche and stagnate.
Escapist and jam-based-but-not-just-jamming psychedelia pervades the self-titled debut from UK trio Falling Floors, who add variety amid the already-varied krautrock in the later reaches of opener “Infinite Switch,” the lockdown slog of “Flawed Theme,” the tambourine-infused hard strums of “Ridiculous Man” and the 18-minute side-B-consuming “Elusive and Unstable Nature of Truth,” which is organ-inclusive bombast early and drone later, with three numbered interludes, furthering the notion of these works being carved out of experiments. A malleable songwriting process and a raw, seemingly live recording make Falling Floors‘ seven-song run come across as formative, but the rougher edges are part of the aesthetic, and ultimately bolster the overarching impression that the band — guitarist/vocalist Rob Herian, bassist/organist Harry Wheeler and drummer/percussionist Colin Greenwood — can and just might go wherever the hell they want. And they do, in that extended finisher and elsewhere throughout, capturing an exploratory moment of creation in willfully unrefined fashion, loose but not unhinged and seemingly as curious in the making as in the result. I don’t know that a band can do this kind of adventuring twice — invariably any second album is informed by the experience of making the first — but Falling Floors make a resounding argument for wanting to find out in these shared discoveries.
Spacing out from a fuzzy foundation like Earthless taking on The Sword — with a bit of Tool in the second-half leads of eight-minute second track “The Hunger” — Israeli trio Warp make their Nasoni Records label debut with their sophomore full-length, Bound by Gravity, putting due languid slog into “Your Fascist Pigs are Back” while finding stonerized salvation in “Dirigibles” ahead of the more melodic and more doomed title-track, which Sabbath-blues-boogies right into its shout-topped sludge slowdown before the bounce and swing of “Impeachment Abdication” readily counteracts. “The Present” unfolds with hints of Melvins while “Head of the Eye” rides a linear groove into a winding midsection that resolves in a standout chorus and capper “I Don’t Want to Be Remembered” is a vocal highlight — guitarist Itai Alzaradel, bassist Sefi Akrish and drummer Mor Harpazi all contribute in that regard at some juncture or another — and a reaffirmation of the gonna-roll-until-we-don’t mindset on the part of the band, ending cold after shifting into a faster chug like the song’s about to take off again. That’d be a hell of a way to start their next record and we’ll see if they get there. Pointedly of-genre, Warp bring exploratory craft to a foundation of tonal heft and ask few indulgences on the listener’s part. Big fuzz gonna make some friends among the converted.
Leading off with its spacebound title-track, Halo Noose‘s debut album, Magical Flight, finds the Scottish solo-outfit plumbing the outer reaches of fuzz-drenched acid rock, coming through like an actually-produced version of Monster Magnet‘s demo era in its roughed-up Hawkwind-via-Stooges pastiche, “Cinnamon Garden” edging toward Eastern idolatry without going full-sitar while “Fire” engages with a stretched-out feel over its slow, maybe-programmed drums and centerpiece “When You Feel it Babe” tops near-motorik push with watery vocals like a less punk Nebula or some of what Black Rainbows might conjure. “Kaliedoscopica” is based largely around a single riff and it’s a masterclass in wah at its 4:20 runtime, leading into the last outward leaps of “Rollercoasting Your Mind” and the forward-and-backwards “Slow Motion” which isn’t actually much slower than anything else here and thus reminds that time is a construct easily subverted by lysergics, fading out with surprising gentleness to return the listener to a crueler reality after a consuming half-hour’s escape. Right on.
If you’d look at the name and the fact that the trio hail from Tennessee and think you’re probably in for some caustic Southern sludge, you’re part right. Dope Skum on their second EP, the 17-minute Gutter South, embrace the tonal heft and chugging approach of the harder end of sludge riffing, but rather than weedian throatrippers, a cleaner vocal style pervades from guitarist Cody Landress-Gibson across opener “Folk Magic,” the banjo-laced “Interlude,” “Feast of Snakes,” “Belly Lint” and the punkier-until-its-slowdown finish of “The Cycle,” and the difference between a shout and a scream is considerable in the impressions made throughout. Bassist Todd Garrett and drummer Scott Keil complete the three-piece and together they harness a feel that’s true to that nasty aural history while branching into something different therefrom, genuinely sounding like a new generation’s interpretation of what Southern heavy was 15-20 years ago. More over, they would seem to be conscious of doing it. Their first EP, 2021’s Tanasi, was more barebones in its production, and there’s still development to be done, but it will be interesting to hear how they manifest across a first long-player when the time comes, as Gutter South underscores potential in its songwriting and persona as well as defiance of aesthetic expectation.
Finnish heavy rockers Heezer release their debut full-length, Sungrinder, this Friday, March 31, through Argonauta Records. From opener “Fourth Line” onward, the four-piece present a clearheaded melodic vision based around songwriting and tonal body, crafting a fuzz not overbearing but rich enough that if you got lost in it, you’d be alright by the time the next hook comes around. And it does come around. Even the penultimate “I the Sun,” which is the longest track at 5:23, has a memorable chorus before it departs into its steady-rolling instrumental second half of layered guitar solos. Guitarist Sami Kääriäinen has a touch of Elder in his vocals, but he, fellow guitarist Ville Räsänen, bassist Antti Vesikko (also of Argonauta denizens Lowburn) and drummer Ville Häsä aren’t up to anything so progressive.
Instead, with “Sunshine” and “Mother Rain” they tap into upbeat elements of grunge and traditionally structured songcraft, persistent ’90s vibes not so much in the guitar, bass or drums, but in the phrasing of the lyrics, the Filter-ish throatiness of the vocals, and the overarching push with which the weighted tones are delivered, the transition from the verse to the chorus in “Growing On,” etc. Meanwhile, in “Spacegod” — not to be confused with Monster Magnet‘s “Spacelord” similar to how the band are not to be confused with Geezer, or Weezer, or anyone else with whom they might collectively rhyme — “Red Giant” and “I the Sun,” the melodic aspects are bolstered by guest vocal contributions by Twilightning‘s Heikki Pöyhiä further emphasizing the focus with which Sungrinder is executed, as well as the confident approach Heezer take and an unassuming expanse that’s highlighted in three-and-a-half-minute cut “Growing On,” semi-psychedelic and atmospheric, but with that purposefulness of structure beneath it.
None of this is placed out of the listener’s reach. Though its sound and the band’s style more generally speaks of a history in heavy metal, Sungrinder makes it easy to get into what Heezer have here assembled in the collection of individual tunes that places a nostalgic lyric in “2009” over a start-stop riff with due largesse, the chorus’ last line, “Still we keep on keeping on,” calling to mind the approach of a generation that, as players and humans, has been through an awful lot of bullshit in the last 15 or so years (and, like so many before, will probably be intolerably full of itself as old people for having survived). From “Fourth Line” on through the piped-in-from-your-memory, sounds-like-a-Lennon-home-demo-from-1977 closer “Breathe,” the sentiment is put at the forefront and the roll of the prior “I the Sun” is dropped entirely in favor of acoustic guitar and quieter delivery.
That’s a departure but not out of place by any means with the preceding cuts, which are set up for an engaging flow and, despite the ample proportion of Häsä‘s drums, still able to convey a sense of airiness thanks to Kääriäinen‘s vocals amid the shove of “Sunshine” and the swing behind the subsequent “Red Giant,” and that balance is established early and toyed with across the span in such a way as to put the lie to Sungrinder as being anyone’s first time at the riffy rodeo; Heezer had an untitled EP out in 2021, but in addition to Vesikko in Lowburn, nobody here sounds like they’re doing guesswork in terms of aesthetic. Indeed, Räsänenand Häsäwere in Cultic Jones Crew together and Kääriäinen may or may not have played bass there as well at some point, so maybe it’s less of a surprise that Heezer come across throughout their first record like they know what they’re aiming for. They probably do, whether it was a sit-down ‘this is the band we’re going to be’ mission-directive out-loud conversation or not.
Sungrinder isn’t necessarily revolutionary in stylistic terms, but neither does it sound like Heezer want it to be, as they instead celebrate the tenets of heavy rock and roll while digging out a niche for themselves within them, offering persona in the melodies and groove alike, and using the two to complement each other in the spirit of best-case genre scenarios. ‘Solid’ is the word. Solid debut, based around solidified craft, crisp performances and a production that sounds loud even when it isn’t. Whatever else you’d ask of a band’s first full-length will likely seem superfluous when you actually hear these songs.
To that end, you’ll find Sungrinder streaming in its entirety on the player below. There are some superficial clues as to what Heezer are about, whether it’s the three-fourths flannelized press photo above or the twice-over sunshine of the tracklisting (space and stars also represented in “Red Giant”), but it really is the material that speaks best for itself in construction and atmosphere, so whether you’re familiar or not, whether you heard the EP or not — for whatever it’s worth, I didn’t — the only thing you risk by hitting play is hearing something new you might actually like. Well, that and shelling out to buy it, I suppose, but come on, it’s not like you were saving that money anyhow.
PR wire info follows. Please enjoy:
Heezer, Sungrinder full album premiere
We are Heezer, a 4-piece stonerrock/grunge band from Lappeenranta/Imatra, Finland. Heezer was formed in late 2020 and began its journey as a feel-good jam project. That casual jamming mentality was very soon discarded as we noticed potential as a fulltime band. Songwriting varies from strict heavy riffs and memorable melodies as every member of the band contributes on the writing process. We each have our own unique playstyles and influences but when we come together as writers the music expands to another levels for which we are not afraid to explore.
In 2021 we released our debut EP consisting of 4 songs: Mellow, Pinky, End and Tired. Our new album is recorded, mixed and mastered waiting for a release. The album was recorded and mixed by Tommi Hämäläinen at Music-Bros studios. With this new album, we expanded our sound even further bringing the familiar heavy riffing complemented with flowing melodies.
Tracklisting: 1 – Fourth Line 2 – Spacegod 3 – 2009 4 – Dream Machine 5 – Sunshine 6 – Red Giant 7 – Mother Rain 8 – Growing On 9 – I The Sun 10 – Breathe
Recorded and mixed by Tommi Hämäläinen at Music-Bros studios. Vocals recorded with Kimmo Koskinen at Hauta studios. Additional guitar recording with Tomi Mykkänen at Barrow Studio. Digital master by Tommi Hämäläinen. Additional vocals in tracks 2,6 and 9 by Heikki Pöyhiä (Twilightning).
Heezer is: Sami Kääriäinen – Guitar, vocals Ville Räsänen – Guitar Antti Vesikko – Bass Ville Häsä – Drums
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 6th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Please tell me if I’m crazy, but I don’t see a title here. I guess stranger things have happened, but with the unveiling of the new lyric video for “Raven Bones” and the announcement of their signing to Argonauta Records, Finnish doom rollers Orbiter nonetheless herald their upcoming debut album, whatever it’ll be called and whenever it’ll be issued, presumably sometime later this year.
Then a five-piece, the band released their debut EP, The Deluge (discussed here) early in 2020 and “Raven Bones” accounts for an element of grunge along with the weighted, doomed roll of their riffing, vocals carefully layered to accent mood along with melody. Whatever album details aren’t included — title as noted, also art, tracklisting, etc. — the song itself makes up for a lot, which is probably what you want, considering.
I’ll hope to have more on the record once we get closer to its TBA release date, and kudos to the band and label on the team-up in the meantime. Most of what follows is basic background — bio stuff — but it’s something to go on, at least, and it’s enough of an excuse to post the track, so there you have it. The promo plan works:
Finnish Psychedelic Doom Metal Act ORBITER Sign to Argonauta Records and Share New Song and Lyrics Video
“We’re thoroughly excited to be releasing our debut album with Argonauta Records. The label has exactly the kind of attitude we’re looking for, and it has a deep understanding of the doom, stoner, and heavy psych scenes. We’ve already been playing some of the new material at our live shows, and the audience responses have been thrilled, so we can’t wait to get these songs officially released!”
The sound of Orbiter is a unique brew of grinding riffs, atmospheric psychedelia, and hypnotically soaring vocals. The band is firmly rooted in doom metal and stoner rock, yet they adventurously take influences from a wide range of genres and even visual arts to create an approach that is truly their own.
Formed in 2014 in Helsinki, Finland, Orbiter spent their early years crafting their style and artistic direction. The final piece of the puzzle fell into place when German singer-songwriter and filmmaker Carolin joined the band in 2019. Shortly thereafter they released their debut EP The Deluge, which received excellent reviews and established the band as a force to be reckoned with in the heavy music and doom metal underground scenes.
The current line-up consists of Carolin Koss (vocals), Alexander Meaney (guitars), Tuomas Talka (bass), and Sami Heiniö (drums). Orbiter have established a solid reputation as a great live act through their atmospheric shows on the club circuit and in festivals in Finland and Germany.
In 2022, Orbiter recorded their debut full length album with producer Hiili Hiilesmaa (HIM, Apocalyptica). The album was mixed by Hiilesmaa and mastered by Ted Jensen (Alice In Chains, Mastodon). The upcoming record will be released via Argonauta Records in 2023 on VINYL, CD, and DIGITAL editions.
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 3rd, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Finland’s Gangrened aren’t thinking of Ambient Doom Dream so much as a follow-up to 2021’s Deadly Algorithm (review here) as an aside intended to bridge the gap between that LP and the next round of post-doom punishment, whenever that might arrive. The title offers clues to the sound, and while I get that they’d risk corniness if they’d gone with ‘Nightmare’ instead of ‘Dream’ in naming the offering, rest assured that the sense of challenge of the prior album and the current of extremity that ran through it can still be felt in the rumbles and biting guitar feedback drones of the single “Transitional Trance 2,” which reminds of earliest, pre-street cred SunnO))) in its unbridled ceremony of harsh amplification. Underscored with pulses of synth, it is all the more encompassing at high volumes, where the tonal textures seem to take on a life of their own before ending suddenly as though someone walked into the room demanding to know what all the shaking walls and floors were about.
That’s the improvisational nature of the release coming through, of course, and the feel of “Transitional Trance 2” is correspondingly placed in Gangrened‘s rehearsal spot where the exploration of Ambient Doom Dream was captured. The band have gone through a shift in lineup, as well happen, but even just the single shows them continuing to move forward creatively, and elsewhere on the new release they’re also reinterpreting older movements and venturing into unknown spaces. If you didn’t hear Deadly Algorithm (which you can at the link above), “Transitional Trance 2” isn’t necessarily representative of the whole scope of their work, but in its oppressive atmosphere there is certainly consistency of purpose to be had.
They’ve got a private-press CD version coming, and you’ll find more info below. There’s a fair amount of description to work from — always welcome — and I think among the keywords you’ll find, the standout phrase is “Then this happened.” Surely this is the kind of noise that might change your plans for what’s next.
Courtesy of the PR wire:
GANGRENED – “AMBIENT DOOM DREAM” – New limited CD/Digital release. New song advanced and pre-order open
Ambient doom dream is the first long length music release of the current Gangrened line-up leaving aside drums and vocals. It captures an improvised piece of music from their second rehearsal together as Gangrened. This is the story behind this recording: The Friday May 5th 2022 Jon Imbernon, guitarist, and Olli Wikström, synth and sampler, met in Seinajöki (Finland) with Lassi Männikkö, previous Gangrened drummer, to pick up Jon´s guitar gear after the last gigs of previous line up to bring it to the new rehearsal room in Kokkola.
While the trip back to Kokkola and with the first hits of the Finnish summer felt like end of a era and beginning of a new one. This same day when arriving in Kokkola the new line up set up their gear in the new place and started jamming. Jon with his stereo guitar rig placed around the room. Olli with his set up for this occasion consisting of synth and sampler. Amps were properly loud, and Jon brought in a guitar lick which he was noddling with for a while already. The inspiration and excitement was flowing resulting into that they both realized to be able to create solid music in real time while improvising. Then it was decided to come back the day after and record the improvisation and develop the raw idea of jamming around that guitar lick.
Then this happened and it was captured 50 mins of the actual rehearsal/improvisation. The 2 of them improvising around that guitar lick and way way beyond….. The recording sounded specially good considering the minimal recording set up was used, even Jon considers that the guitar tone is more natural and loyal to his guitar sound than the guitar sound in Deadly Algorithm. So it was decided to release what was considered the highlight of the improvisation as a track as a digital single: “Turbulent Times”.
After that came the possibility of releasing the whole thing physically through Clouded Mind Records from Sweden, so the original mix was remixed and mastered by Miguel Souto in Spain putting the whole recording into a next level thanks to Miguel´s work. So here it is, the whole improvisation has been divided in 6 tracks, including “Turbulent Times” remixed and remastered and having as end a revision of the intro of the song “Kuningatar” from Deadly Algorithm recorded the way Jon was playing it live, more spacial, but with synth and sampler and without drums and bass.
“Ambient Doom Dream”, represents a exercise of immersion by Gangrened´s new line up in the more dreamy 90s, think about Kranky Records, or Slowdive’s “Pigmalyon” album blended with blurry heavy fuzzed guitars and droned synths all with a lot of feedback in the key of trance in between. A heavy dreamy experience from beginning to end. Besides “Turbulent Times, another highlight of “Ambient Doom Dream” is “Imbernon VS. Qstaw” second track and another descension into despair like “Harrbåda” from “Deadly Algorithm” was but deeper and heavier sounding, and created 100% on the fly while improvising.
Needs to be mentioned that this is not the second album of Gangrened, this is a evolutionary transitional release between first and second album.
“Ambient Doom Dream” will be released digitally in all streaming platforms and also on a small run of 33 handmade digipack CDs by the Swedish label Clouded Mind Records the Friday 5th May, a year after the recording was made. In the meantime, The 5th track “Transitional trance 2” extracted from this dreamy musical piece is released now (3rd march) in all streaming platforms.
Tracklisting: 1. Intro 2. Imbernon VS Qstaw 3. Transitional Trance 1 4. Turbulent Times 5. Transitional Trance 2 6. Kuningatar Intro (live revision)
Releases May 5, 2023
Mixing and mastering by Miguel Souto.
Jon Imbernon – Guitars and feedback in trance key. Olli Wikström – Sampler, synth and effects.
