Posted in Questionnaire on June 15th, 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: Ashish Niraj Dharkar of Dirge, Pacifist and The Earth Below
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I’m a musician and an educator living in Mumbai, India. I started playing guitar in 2011 and knew it was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life. The connection with the instrument was real and very strong from the very beginning. It was a very difficult time for me in my personal life and music became a medium of catharsis for me. I currently play guitars in Dirge, Pacifist & The Earth Below.
Describe your first musical memory.
I grew up in quite a non-musical family in general and there weren’t a lot of music related activities in my school either. I’ve always been a sucker for melancholic and beautiful melodies though, that’s what I’ve connected to the most. I remember a friend of mine gave me a CD which had a lot of popular songs by Metallica, Linkin Park, Green Day, Scorpions, Iron Maiden etc. I’m so glad to have checked it out cause hearing a distorted guitar for the first time literally changed my life forever. It was the coolest sound I ever heard and the love for discovering new sounds just got stronger from there.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
I think the best memory must be going to the Roadburn Festival in 2019 and watching a lot of my all-time favourite artists live. The whole experience of going to Europe for the first time, exploring beautiful places, meeting new people and being at a festival with artists I looked up to; it was magical. Apart from that, I’ve had some amazing memories of writing music and playing shows here in India with my bands. I hope to travel and play at new places in other countries too.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
I grew up in a very loving family and had quite a beautiful childhood overall I must say. My grandfather and father both were the most inspiring people I’ve ever met. They had a very tough life growing up with some serious obstacles and worked hard to reach where they were. They always showered endless love upon us, and family always came first for them. It just felt like that’ll last forever. But they both passed away over a span of four years while I was still in my teens. It was the lowest point in my life and took a lot of will power and courage to move forward and believe in things again. These tragic events really shook my belief of having endless time with the ones you love and sometimes taking things for granted. You never know when will be your last moment here and life truly is unpredictable. We must make the most with the time we have.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
Self-discovery and understanding the bigger picture.
How to define success?
Honestly, it’s quite difficult to define success in a way as it keeps changing for me with time. Being able to do music full-time as an educator and playing music that I strongly connect with in a few bands is really satisfying to me. It’s not easy doing that living in India where pretty much everything is against us. It gets quite frustrating at times to be a part of a society where you always feel like an outsider. But I’m lucky to be living a life on my own terms and playing music I truly believe in with some of my closest friends. I hope I can continue to do so forever. Also, my family and close friends have always been very supportive of my musical endeavours and I’m so grateful for that. Touring in Europe with my bands (whenever that happens) will feel like success to me on some level.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Deaths of close ones at a very early age.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I really want to make dark post-punk and shoegaze inspired dance music in the vein of Boy Harsher, She Past Away, Public Memory, The Cure, etc. I need to improve my production skills to get this going.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
In my opinion, honest and true expression straight from the heart with zero compromises is really important when it comes to art. Art is such a pure cathartic medium to let your deepest feelings out and it connects people together from across the globe. I absolutely can’t imagine a life without it
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to.
I really enjoy photography and finally managed to get a good camera recently. I’m having a lot of fun with it. Hoping to travel to some new places in the next few years and take loads of pictures. I also really want to watch a Manchester United match at Old Trafford someday. I’m a HUGE fan.
Posted in Reviews on April 10th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to the Spring 2023 Quarterly Review. Between today and next Tuesday, a total of 70 records will be covered with a follow-up week slated for May bringing that to 120. Rest assured, it’ll be plenty. If you’re reading this, I feel safe assuming you know the deal: 10 albums per day from front to back, ranging in style, geography, type of release — album, EP, singles even, etc. — and the level of hype and profile surrounding. The Quarterly Review is always a massive undertaking, but I’ve never done one and regretted it later, and looking at what’s coming up across the next seven days, there are more than few records featured that are already on my ongoing best of 2023 list. So please, keep an eye and ear out, and hopefully you’ll also find something new that speaks to you.
We begin.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
ISAAK, Hey
Last heard from as regards LPs with 2015’s Serominize (review here) and marking 10 years since their 2013 debut under the name, The Longer the Beard the Harder the Sound (review here), Genoa-based heavy rockers ISAAK return with the simply-titled Hey and encapsulate the heads-up fuzz energy that’s always been at the core of their approach. Vocalist Giacomo H. Boeddu has hints of Danzig in “OBG” and the swing-shoving “Sleepwalker” later on, but whether it’s the centerpiece Wipers cover “Over the Edge,” the rolling “Dormhouse” that follows, or the melodic highlight “Rotten” that precedes, the entire band feel cohesive and mature in their purposeful songwriting. They’re labelmates and sonic kin to Texas’ Duel, but less bombastic, with a knife infomercial opening their awaited third record before the title-track and “OBG” begin to build the momentum that carries the band through their varied material, spacious on “Except,” consuming in the apex of “Fake it Till You Make It,” but engaging throughout in groove and structure.
With doom in their collective heart and riffs to spare, UK doom metal traditionalists Iron Void roll out a weighted 44 minutes across the nine songs of their fourth full-length, IV, seeming to rail against pandemic-era restrictions in “Grave Dance” and tech culture in “Slave One” while “Pandora’s Box” rocks out Sabbathian amid the sundry anxieties of our age. Iron Void have been around for 25 years as of 2023 — like a British Orodruin or trad-doom more generally, they’ve been undervalued for most of that time — and their songwriting earns the judgmental crankiness of its perspective, but each half of the LP gets a rousing closer in “Blind Dead” and “Last Rites,” and Iron Void doom out like there’s no tomorrow even on the airier “She” because, as we’ve seen in the varying apocalypses since the band put out 2018’s Excalibur (review here), there might not be. So much the better to dive into the hook of “Living on the Earth” or the grittier “Lords of the Wasteland,” the metal-of-yore sensibility tapping into early NWOBHM without going full-Maiden. Kind of a mixed bag, it might take a few listens to sink in, but IV shows the enduring strengths of Iron Void and is clearly meant more for those repeat visits than some kind of cloying immediacy. An album to be lived with and doomed with.
An offering of thickened, massive lava-flow sludge, plodding doom and atmospheric severity, Dread Witch‘s self-released (not for long, one suspects) first long-player, Tower of the Severed Serpent, announces a significant arrival on the part of the onslaught-prone Danish outfit, who recorded as a trio, play live as a five-piece and likely need at least that many people to convey the density of a song like the opener/longest track (immediate points) “The Tower,” the eight minutes of which are emblematic of the force of execution with which the band delivers the rest of what follows, runtimes situated longest to shortest across the near-caustic chug of “Serpent God,” the Celtic Frost-y declarations and mega-riff ethos of “Leech,” the play between key-led minimalism and all-out stomp on “Wormtongue” and the earlier-feeling noise intensity of “Into the Crypt” before the more purely ambient but still heavy instrumental “Severed” wraps, conveying weight of emotion to complement the tonal tectonics prior. Bordering on the extreme and clearly enjoying the crush that doing so affords them, Dread Witch make more of a crater than an impression and would be outright barbaric were their sound not so methodical in immersing the audience. Pro sound, loaded with potential, heavy as shit; these are the makings of a welcome debut.
Next-generation heavy fuzz purveyed with particular glee, Tidal Wave seem to explore the very reaches they conjure through verses and choruses on their eight-song Ripple Music label debut (second LP overall behind 2019’s Blueberry Muffin), The Lord Knows, and they make the going fun throughout the 41-minute outing, finding the shuffle in the shove of “Robbero Bobbero” while honing classic desert idolatry on “Lizard King” and “End of the Line” at the outset. What a relief it is to know that heavy rock and roll won’t die with the aging-out of so many of its Gen-X and Millennial purveyors, and as Tidal Wave step forward with the low-end semi-metal roll of “Pentagram” and the grander spaces of “By Order of the King” before “Purple Bird” returns to the sands and “Thorsakir” meets that on an open field of battle, it seems the last word has not been said on Tidal Wave in terms of aesthetic. They’ve got time to continue to push deeper into their craft — and maybe that will or won’t result in their settling on one path or another — but the range of moods on The Lord Knows suits them well, and without pretense or overblown ceremony the Sundsvall four-piece bring together elements of classic heavy rock and metal while claiming a persona that can move back and forth between them. Kind of the ideal for a younger band.
Persistently weird in the mold of Arthur Brown with unpredictability as a defining feature, Guided Meditation Doomjazz may mostly be a cathartic salve for founding bassist, vocalist, experimentalist, etc.-ist Blaise the Seeker, but that hardly makes the expression any less valid. Expect arrives as a five-song EP, ready to meander in the take-the-moniker-literally “Collapse in Dignity” and the fuzz-drenched slow-plod finisher “Sit in Surrender” — watery psychedelic guitar weaving overhead like a cloud you can reshape with your mind — that devolves into drone and noise, but not unstructured and not without intention behind even its most out-there moments. The bluesy sway of “The Mind is Divided” follows the howling scene-setting of the titular opener, while “Stream of Crystal Water” narrates its verse over crunchier riffing before the sung chorus-of-sorts, the overarching dug-in sensibility conveying some essence of what seems despite a prolific spate of releases to be an experience intended for a live setting, with all the one-on-one mind-expansion and arthouse performance that inevitably coincides with it. Still, with a rough-feeling production, Expect carries a breadth that makes communing with it that much easier. Go on, dare to get lost for a little while. See where you end up.
II is the vocalized follow-up to Cancervo‘s 2021 debut, 1 (review here), and finds the formerly-instrumental Lombardy, Italy, three-piece delving further into the doomed aspects of the initial offering with a greater clarity on “Arera,” “Herdsman of Grem” and “The Cult of Armentarga,” letting some of the psychedelia of the first record go while maintaining enough of an atmosphere to be hypnotic as the vocals follow the marching rhythm as the latter track moves into its midsection or the rhythmic chains in the subsequent “Devil’s Coffin” (an instrumental) lock step with the snare in a floating, loosely-Eastern-scaled break before the bigger-sounding end. Between “Devil’s Coffin” and the feedback-prone also-instrumental “Zambla” ahead of 8:43 closer “Zambel’s Goat” — on which the vocals return in a first-half of subdued guitar-led doomjamming prior to the burst moment at 4:49 — II goes deeper as it plays through and is made whole by its meditative feel, some semblance of head-trip cult doom running alongside, but if it’s a cult it’s one with its own mythology. Not where one expected them to go after 1, but that’s what makes it exciting, and that they lay claim to arrangement flourish, chanting vocals and slogging tempos as they do bodes well for future exploration.
So heavy it crashed my laptop. Twice. The second full-length from Mumbai post-metallers Dirge is a self-titled four-songer that culls psychedelia from tonal tectonics, not contrasting the two but finding depth in the ways they can interact. Mixed by Sanford Parker, the longer-form pieces comprise a single entirety without seeming to have been written as one long track, the harsh vocals of Tabish Khidir adding urgency to the guitar work of Ashish Dharkar and Varun Patil (the latter also backing vocals) as bassist Harshad Bhagwat and drummer Aryaman Chatterji underscore and punctuate the chugging procession of opener “Condemned” that’s offset if not countermanded by its quieter stretch. If you’re looking for your “Stones From the Sky”-moment as regards riffing, it’s in the 12-minute second cut, “Malignant,” the bleak triumph of which spills over in scream-topped angularity into “Grief” (despite a stop) while the latter feels all the more massive for its comedown moments. In another context, closer “Hollow” might be funeral doom, but it’s gorgeous either way, and it fits with the other three tracks in terms of its interior claustrophobia and thoughtful aggression. They’re largely playing toward genre tenets, but Dirge‘s gravity in doing so is undeniable, and the space they create is likewise dark and inviting, if not for my own tech.
Witch Ripper‘s sophomore LP and Magnetic Eye label-debut, The Flight After the Fall, touches on anthemic prog rock and metal with heavy-toned flourish and plenty of righteous burl in cuts like “Madness and Ritual Solitude” and the early verses of “The Obsidian Forge,” though the can-sing vocals of guitarists Chad Fox and Curtis Parker and bassist Brian Kim — drummer Joe Eck doesn’t get a mic but has plenty to do anyhow — are able to push that centerpiece and the rest of what surrounds over into the epic at a measure’s notice. Or not, which only makes Witch Ripper more dynamic en route to the 16:45 sprawling finish of “Everlasting in Retrograde Parts 1 and 2,” picking up from the lyrics of the leadoff “Enter the Loop” to put emphasis on the considered nature of the release as a whole, which is a showcase of ambition in songwriting as much as performance of said songs, conceptual reach and moments of sheer pummel. It’s been well hyped, and by the time “Icarus Equation” soars into its last chorus without its wings melting, it’s easy to hear why in the fullness of its progressive heft and melodic theatricality. It’s not a minor undertaking at 47 minutes, but it wouldn’t be a minor undertaking if it was half that, given the vastness of Witch Ripper‘s sound. Be ready to travel with it.
In stated narrative conversation with the Arabic influence on Spanish and greater Western European (read: white) culture, specifically in this case as regards the work of Persian philosopher Ibn Sina, Parisian self-releasing three-piece Pelegrin follow-up 2019’s Al-Mahruqa (review here) with the expansive six songs of Ways of Avicenna, with guitarist/vocalist François Roze de Gracia, bassist/backing vocalist Jason Recoing and drummer/percussionist Antoine Ebel working decisively to create a feeling of space not so much in terms of the actual band in the room, but of an ancient night sky on songs like “Madrassa” and the rolling heavy prog solo drama of the later “Mystical Appear,” shades of doom and psychedelia pervasive around the central riff-led constructions, the folkish middles of “Thunderstorm” and “Reach for the Sun” and the acoustic two-minute “Disgrace” a preface to the patient manner in which the trio feel their way into the final build of closer “Forsaken Land.” I’m neither a historical scholar nor a philosopher, and thankfully the album doesn’t require you to be, but Pelegrin could so easily tip over into the kind of cartoonish cultural appropriation that one finds among certain other sects of European psychedelia, and they simply don’t. Whether the music speaks to you or not, appreciate that.
Lush but not overblown, Argentinian instrumentalists Black Sky Giant fluidly and gorgeously bring together psychedelia and post-rock on their third album, Primigenian, distinguishing their six-song/31-minute brevity with an overarching progressive style that brings an evocative feel whether it’s to the guitar solos in “At the Gates” or the subsequent kick propulsion of “Stardust” — which does seem to have singing, though one can barely make out what if anything is actually being said — as from the denser tonality of the opening title-track, they go on to unfurl the spiritual-uplift of “The Great Hall,” fading into a cosmic boogie on the relatively brief “Sonic Thoughts” as they, like so many, would seem to have encountered SLIFT‘s Ummon sometime in the last two years. Doesn’t matter; it’s just a piece of the puzzle here and the shortest track, sitting as it does on the precipice of capper “The Foundational Found Tapes,” which plays out like amalgamated parts of what might’ve been other works, intermittently drummed and universally ambient, as though to point out the inherently incomplete nature of human-written histories. They fade out that last piece after seeming to put said tapes into a player of some sort (vague samples surrounding) and ending with an especially dream-toned movement. I wouldn’t dare speculate what it all means, but I think we might be the ancient progenitors in question. Fair enough. If this is what’s found by whatever species is next dominant on this planet — I hope they do better at it than humans have — we could do far worse for representation.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on September 16th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
It’s not an easy record. And you should know that the version above isn’t the whole thing. We Here Now‘s The Chikipunk Years (discussed here), issued in 2019 through Elektrohasch Schallplatten and Homemade Gifts Music runs 10 tracks on its physical editions; LP, CD, tape. The digital version, which I bought from Bandcamp ahead of writing this with Obelisk merch money — thank you for your support — has seven tracks, leaving out “Angelus Novus,” “Parambulation” and “Clearings.” The stream from the same page is only four songs, and I’m pretty sure that’s the version on YouTube you’ll find that only runs 10 minutes as opposed to the complete album’s 32 minutes. It’s a problem I solved by going upstairs and getting the CD, but if you listen above, know you’re getting a sampler rather than the entirety. ‘Friday Full-Length’ indeed.
The Chikipunk Years came up this week as Elektrohasch — the long-running imprint helmed by Colour Haze guitarist/vocalist Stefan Koglek — announced it was basically shutting down for everything other than that band’s own releases and reissues of past work. A genuine bummer, but well within Koglek‘s rights. What was We Here Now‘s debut and seems like it probably won’t get a follow-up anytime soon (I wouldn’t mind being wrong) was mentioned specifically as an example of an outing the label thought was great that didn’t meet with customers’ desires: “With my last new artists – We Here Now, Public Animal, Carpet, Saturnia… – my taste apparently didn‘t meet yours. That especially such a great, stylistically independent album like We Here Now, The Chikipunk Years — a group apart from the usual European/North American origin — was sold just 60 times made me think.”
That number 60 made me think too, honestly, and it seemed like a fitting occasion to revisit The Chikipunk Years and find out what happened. In terms of sales, well, the band operated under the group moniker of Un Chiquitino, which is another word for ‘Chikipunk,’ which itself is slang for Latin and South American kids trying to sell gum to rich gringo tourists. A pretty obscure reference, maybe, and the gap-toothed smiling kid on the front cover is adorable, but god damn teeth are gross. There’s that little flap of the top gums sticking out there and even looking at it makes my skin crawl. Nothing against the kid, of course, just my own hangup, but still. I feel like I’m about to fall into that space and be lost forever.
Even if that’s not a barrier to entry, the music itself across the 10 tracks is wildly dense. Also just wild. And it’s easy to get the appeal that hooked Koglek on it to start with, since the songs take fuzz and psychedelic rocks and blends it with West African and South American rhythms, dub sampling and cumbia-style psych, classic rock — “Planes of Inmanence” near the record’s middle sounds like if The Beatles made Revolver in the Andes; not a complaint — and more besides. You could sit and pick apart the snare shuffle alone in post-intro leadoff “Gathering and Separation” for a month, let alone the intended-to-move percussion that surrounds, and one song later, “Angelus Novus” arrives a completely drumless stretch of mellow guitar and keys.
We Here Now was an almost maddeningly inventive outfit. Comprised of Pedro “Sozinho” Salvador from Brazil’s Necro, Queen Elephantine‘s Indrayudh Shome who I believe was operating out of the Northeast US at the time (don’t quote me on that; dude gets around), and Peruvian drummer Panchito Fr. Sofista, whose mere association with Montibus Communitas makes him the stuff of legend in my mind, they were perhaps ahead of their time in functioning remotely, but in the reality of bands promoting their own work on social media, ‘It’s been two weeks since we released this album what’s your favorite song?’ etc.-style engagement, there was none of that. Not every act does that, and not every act needs to or wants to pander, which I can understand, but some definitely do, and I doubt it would happen if it didn’t at least push some sales.
The record is also a lot of fun, mind you. That sample about perfection in “Gathering and Separation” right before the solo is humorous and perfectly timed. The insistent fuzz shuffle of “Frontiers and Determinations” on side B, the dizzying for-a-walkness of the penultimate “Parambulation” and the subsequent, also-instrumental closer “Clearings” are both impressive in the doing on the part of the band and engaging in their intricacy. The Chikipunk Years challenges the listener to keep up with it, but makes that process a joy from the 95-second “Sojourns” onward. It is entirely cohesive within itself and yet a song like “Dukkha” knows no real microgenre boundaries, drawing from across a multifaceted sonic experientialism and creating something new from it.
Isn’t that the ideal? So, 60 copies? Maybe some records are destined to be cult favorites, and for being clean in its tone and delivery, clear in its exploratory purpose and progressive and thoughtful in its construction, The Chikipunk Years is nonetheless a head-spinner, and that doesn’t necessarily make it more accessible to a mass listenership. It’s also worth noting that in 2019, the similarly-named Los Angeles-based troupe Here Lies Man had released two albums, and worked in a more grounded aesthetic pursuing Afrobeat and heavy vibes in a way that some of We Here Now‘s material also seemed to do, with more promotion and touring behind them. So maybe We Here Now just kind of got lost in the shuffle.
The makings of a future classic? The kind of album that’ll be reissued in another 20 years and leave its audience scratching its collective head as to why it wasn’t huge at the time? Maybe. Who knows? It may go down as the last non-Colour Haze record on Elektrohasch — I don’t know that either, mind you — and that alone is a legacy worthy of the kind of trivia contest that happens basically nowhere, but given that The Chikipunk Years is so much in its own sphere aesthetically and so dug into its intent, it’s a process of meeting the band where they are rather than the kind of situation where they come to you. That’s the challenge. The thing that apparently remains undiscovered about We Here Now‘s lone offering to-date is how much it’s completely worth that effort.
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It’s 5:23AM. I just put up the first post of the day, which this will follow in a few hours, and the kid’s been down here since 4:55AM. The Patient Mrs. has been away since Wednesday at a conference and will be back I think tomorrow night after he goes to bed. He misses her and was expressing it yesterday after school by being a complete asshole. Can’t imagine where he possibly ever learned to do that.
Ups and downs, then. Big fucking change.
I found out this week that Creem Magazine is cutting out digital columns as part of a ‘restructuring’ happening apparently across the board. That’s a bit of money I’ll miss. Since the piece I turned in about King Buffalo didn’t make it into the print issue either, I’m kind of assuming that means my association with whatever Creem becomes is over. Nice while it lasted, but I’ve been a part of magazine rollouts and refreshes before and that’s how it goes. Everybody’s very excited at the start and then the reality becomes something different. I’m sure the t-shirts are selling well though. Anyway, I’ve got one more Creem column and that’s it. Back to my corner of the internet I go, grateful for the opportunity I had and probably blew.
I guess that sucks. I could go on but frankly see no point in it. All the best to Creem and sincere thanks to Fred Pessaro for bringing me on board.
Still got the Gimme show though. That’s 5PM Eastern today: http://gimmemetal.com. Thanks if you listen.
Burnt out, tired of bullshit. So perfect time for a Quarterly Review, right? That starts next week. 100 records again. Could easily be 150, but won’t be.
Alright, that’s my last plug. I’ll actually get started on that QR today and over the weekend in the maybe-an-hour-if-I’m-lucky that wakong up at 4AM buys me before the kid is awake, so will be around. I hope you have a great and safe weekend.
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 26th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Okay, it’s been a minute since the cross-continental two-piece Spiral Shades last checked in. The India-and-Norway-based duo released their digital-only EP, Children of Doom (discussed here), and that was a short tribute release consisting of just three covers. Their debut album, Hypnosis Sessions (review here), was issued in 2014 on RidingEasy Records. But here’s the thing. Even when the tribute EP came out, Spiral Shades — who are not to be confused with Spiral Grave, Spiral Skies or any of the other spirals careening out there — were talking about getting to work on their next record. It’s just been seven years in the making.
The band reportedly finished the recording in 2020 and I guess have been mixing back and forth since then? They signed with Majestic Mountain Records in 2021 — I’d usually catch that kind of news, can only wonder why I didn’t, but I’m sorry to not have an immediate excuse handy; I just suck at this — and I guess now the yet-untitled release to come is done, mastered, finished. Any way you want to slice it, this has been a pretty significant undertaking on the part of the band. I doubt they were working 40 hours a week to put it together, but consider having lived with these songs for over a half-decade minimum and just now getting to the point of having an end-product to show for it. They must be on fire to get this shit out.
And that’s a record I’m looking forward to hearing. From socials etc.:
We are done mixing and mastering our sophomore album. Special thanks to Maxim Losch from Redville Studio for doing such a fabulous job on the record. Redville Studio Majestic. Mountain Records.
— Spiral Shades is a doom metal project formed in 2012 that is inspired by two individuals from different countries with a common goal of making an album together. Khushal Bhadra a Guitarist, Songwriter from India, Mumbai city and Filip Petersen (Guitarist, Bassist) from Norway, Vennesla got to know each other through Youtube because of their common interest in 70’s heavy doom/progressive rock music.
Posted in Reviews on December 14th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Day two, huh? Don’t know about you, but I’m feeling positively groovy after yesterday’s initial round of 10 records en route to 50 by Friday, and maybe that’s all the better since there’s not only another round of 10 today, but 50 more awaiting in January. Head down, keep working. You know how it goes. Hope you find something cool in this bunch, and if not, stick around because there’s more to come. Never enough time, never enough riffs. Let’s get to it.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Khemmis, Deceiver
Denver’s Khemmis are everything an American heavy metal band should be in 2021. The six-song Deceiver is the fourth LP from the band — now comprised of guitarist/vocalist Ben Hutcherson, guitarist/vocalist Phil Pendergast and drummer Zach Coleman — and it soars and crushes in kind. It is no more doom than thrash or epic traditional metal, with sweeping choruses from opener “Avernal Gate” onward, and yet it is intense without being boorish, accessible without being dumbed-down, dynamic in presentation. It commits neither to genre nor structure but is born of both, and its well-timed arrangements of more extreme vocalizations on “House of Cadmus” and “Obsidian Crown” are no less vital to its sonic persona than the harmonies surrounding. Even more here than on 2018’s Desolation (review here), Khemmis sound like masters of the form — the kind of band who’d make a kid want to pick up a guitar — and are in a class of their own.
Somebody in Toronto’s Low Orbit likes Dr. Who, as signaled by inclusions like “Tardis” and “Timelord” on the trio’s third album, Crater Creator. Also huge riffs. Working with their hometown’s house helmer Ian Blurton (Rough Spells, Future Now, Biblical, etc.), guitarist/vocalist Angelo Catenaro, bassist Joe Grgic and drummer Emilio Mammone proffer seven songs across two-sides bent toward largesse of chug and spaciousness of… well, space. The opening title-track, which moves into the lumbering “Tardis” and the driving side-A-capper “Sea of See,” sets an expectation for massive tonality that the rest of what follows meets with apparent glee. The fuzz-forward nature of “Monocle” (also the cowbell) feels straightforward after the relative plod of “Empty Space” before it, but “Wormhole” and “Timelord” assure the mission’s overarching success, the latter with aplomb fitting its finale position on such a cosmically voluminous offering. Craters accomplished, at least in eardrums.
One assumes that the Cthulhu figure depicted breaking a lighthouse with its cthrotch on the cover art of Confusion Master‘s Haunted is intended as a metaphor for the coming of the German four-piece’s engrossing psychedelic doom riffery. The band, who made their debut with 2018’s Awaken (review here), owe some debt to Electric Wizard‘s misanthropic stoner nihilism, but the horrors crafted across the six-song/56-minute sophomore outing are their own in sound and depth alike, as outwardly familiar as the lumbering central riff of “The Cannibal County Maniac” might seem. It’s amazing I haven’t heard more hype about Confusion Master, with the willful slog of “Jaw on a Hook”‘s 11 minutes so dug in ahead of the sample-topped title-track you can’t really call it anything other than righteous in its purpose, as filthy as that purpose is on the rolling “Casket Down” or “Under the Sign of the Reptile Master.” Shit, they don’t even start vocals until minute six of 10-minute opener “Viking X.” What more do you want? Doom the fuck out.
Sludge metal punishment serves as the introductory statement of Los Angeles’ Daemonelix, whose Devil’s Corkscrew EP runs just 18 minutes and four songs but needs no more than that to get its message across. The band, led by guitarist Derek Phillips, are uniformly brash and scathing in their composition, harnessing the punkish energy of an act like earlier -(16)- and bringing it to harsher places altogether, while still — as the motor-ready riff of “In the Name of Freedom” demonstrates — keeping one foot in heavy rock traditions. Vocalist Ana Garcia Lopez is largely indecipherable in her throaty, rasping growls on opener “Daemonelix” and the subsequent “Raise Crows,” but “In the Name of Freedom” has a cleaner hook and closer “Sing for the Moon” brings in more atmospherics during its slower, more open-feeling verses, before crushing once more in a manner that’s — dare I say it? — progressive? Clearly more than just bludgeoning, then, but yes, plenty of that too.
While I’ll admit that Wooden Fields had me on board with the mere mention of the involvement of Siena Root bassist Sam Riffer, the Stockholm trio’s boogie-prone seven-song self-titled debut earns plenty of allegiance on its own, with vocalist/guitarist Sartez Faraj leading the classically-grooving procession in a manner that expands outward as it moves through the album’s tidy 38 minutes, taking the straight-ahead rush of “Read the Signs” and “Shiver and Shake” into the airier-but-still-grounded “Should We Care” before centerpiece “I’m Home” introduces a jammier vibe, drummer Fredrik Jansson Punkka (Witchcraft, etc.) seeming totally amenable to holding the track together beneath the extended solo. The transition works because no matter how far they go in “Don’t Be a Fool” or “Wind of Hope,” Wooden Fields never lose the thread of songcraft they weave throughout, and the melodies of closer “Endless Time” alone establish them as a group of marked potential, regardless of pedigree and the familiarity of their stylistic foundation.
Surging forth with lush progressive heavy psychedelic rock, Plaindrifter‘s debut full-length, Echo Therapy, showcases an awareness of the context in which it arrives — which is to say the German three-piece seem to be familiar with the aesthetic tropes they’re working toward. Still, although their emphasis on bringing together melody and heft may result in flashes of Elder in the extended “Prisma” or the closer “Digital Dreamcatcher” or Elephant Tree in “New World,” with opener “M.N.S.N.” making its impression as much with ambience as tonal weight and centerpiece “Proto Surfer Boy” sneakily executing its linear build in space-creating fashion before its long fadeout, there’s an individual presence in the material beyond a play toward style, and from what they offer here, it’s easy to imagine their forward-thinking course will lead to further manifest individualism in subsequent work. That may be me reading into the possibilities cast by the melodies of “M.N.S.N.” and in the quieter break of “Proto Surfer Boy,” but that’s plenty to go on and by no means the sum of Echo Therapy‘s achievements.
The kind of release that makes me want to own everything the band has done, Spawn‘s Live at Moonah Arts Collective enraptures with four tracks of meditative psychedelic flow, beginning with “Meditation in an Evil Temple” and oozing patiently through a cover of “Morning of the Earth” — from the 1971 Australian surf film of the same name — before “Remember to Be Here Now” issues that needed reminder to coincide with the drift that would otherwise so easily lead the mind elsewhere, and the 13-minute “All is Shiva” culminates with a spiritually-vibing wash of guitar, sitar, bass, drums, keyboard, tabla and tantric vocal repetitions. Based in Melbourne, the seven-maybe-more-piece outfit released a studio EP in 2018 on Nasoni Records (of course) and otherwise have a demo to their credit, but the with the sense of communion they bring to these songs, studio or live doesn’t matter anymore. At just under half an hour, it’s a short set — too short — but with the heavier ending of “All is Shiva,” there’s nothing they leave unsaid in that time. This is aural treasure. Pay heed.
Formed as a solo-project for Sterling DeWeese, the lo-fi experimentalist psych of Ambassador Hazy‘s Glacial Erratics first showed up in 2020 after four years of making, and with a 2021 vinyl release, the 14-track/39-minute offering would seem to be getting its due. DeWeese — sometimes on his own, sometimes backed by a full band or just drummer Jonathan Bennett — delights in the weird, finding a place somewhere between desert-style drift (his vocals remind at times of mellower Mario Lalli, but I doubt that’s more than coincidence), folk and space-indie on “Ain’t the Same No More,” which is somehow bluesy while the fuzzy “Lucky Clover” earlier taps alterna-chic bedroom gaze and the subsequent “Passing into a Grey Area” brings in full backing for the first time. Disjointed? Yeah, but it’s part of the whole idea, so don’t sweat it. No single song tops four minutes — the Dead Meadowy “Sleepyhead” comes closest at 3:51 — and it ends with “The World’s a Mess,” so yeah, DeWeese makes it easy enough to roll with what’s happening here. I’d suggest doing that.
A wildly ambitious debut — to the point of printing up a novella to flesh out its storyline and characters — The Birth of Billy Munro follows a narrative spearheaded by Mocaine guitarist/vocalist Amrit Mohan and is set in the American South following its title-character through a post-traumatic mental decay with material that runs a gamut from progressive metal to psychedelia to classic Southern heavy rock and grunge and so on. In just 43 minutes and with a host of dialogue-driven stretches — also samples like Alec Baldwin talking about his god complex from 1993’s Malice in the soon-to-be-churning “Narcissus” — the plot is brought to a conclusion on “The Bend,” which touches lighter acoustics and jazzy nuance without letting go entirely of the ’90s flair in “Psylocybin” a few tracks earlier, as far removed from the swaggering “Pistol Envy” as it seems to be, and in fact is. However deep the listener might want to explore, Mocaine seems ready to accommodate, and one only wonders whether the trio will explore further tales of Billy Munro or move on to other stories and concepts.
Toronto riffers Sun Below would like to be your entertainment for the evening, and they’d probably prefer it if you were also stoned. Their 71-minute self-titled debut long-player arrives after a series of three shorter offerings between 2018-2019, and after the opening “Chronwall Neanderhal,” the 14-minute “Holy Drifter” lets you know outright how it’s gonna go. They’re gonna vibe, they’re gonna jam, they’re gonna riff, and your brain’s gonna turn to goo and that’s just fine. Stoner is as stoner does, and whether that’s on a shorter track like “Shiva Sativa,” the shuffling “Kinetic Keif” and the rumbling “Doom Stick,” or the 18-minute “Twin Worlds” that follows ahead of the 12-minute closer “Solar Burnout,” one way or the other, you get gargantuan, post-Pike riffage that knows from whence its grooves come and doesn’t care it’s going to roll out an hour-plus anyway and steamroll lucidity in the process. Is that a bongrip at the end of “Solar Burnout” or the end of the world? More to the point, can’t it be both?
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 9th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Good pickup. Don’t look now, but Metal Assault Records seems to be making a play into heavy-underground territory over these last few months, and snagging Bengaluru sludgers Bevar Sea for the 2022 release of the band’s return album, The Timeless Zone — you might recall they posted the title-track as a single earlier this year — and more releases beyond is just the latest of them. Old Blood, Circle of Sighs, Ealdor Bealu, Solar Haze, and now Bevar Sea — there’s a lot to dig about both the stylistic variety among that list of acts and the overall quality of work they represent. I’ll be interested to see how it plays out, if the Los Angeles-based imprint keeps the thread going from here, and if so, who might be next.
I like watching labels build rosters over time. Especially good ones. I like it when nice things happen to cool bands. So yeah, I’m grooving on this announcement. Kudos all around. Can’t wait to hear the record.
The PR wire has it:
India’s premier stoner doom rockers BEVAR SEA sign with Metal Assault Records
New album ‘The Timeless Zone’ expected early 2022
Metal Assault Records is thrilled to announce its first international signing. All the way from Bangalore, India stoner/doom metal band BEVAR SEA joins the Metal Assault Records roster. Stalwarts of the Indian stoner doom scene for well over a decade in addition to carrying a solid fanbase internationally within the heavy underground, BEVAR SEA has inked a multi-album deal with Metal Assault Records and will release the band’s third full-length studio album, The Timeless Zone, in early 2022. Album pre-orders will be launched in Fall 2021. The stunning cover artwork created for the album along with its track-list were unveiled earlier this week by BEVAR SEA and can be seen below. More details surrounding the pre-orders for The Timeless Zone including available formats and exclusive merchandise bundles will be made available in the coming weeks. For a preview of The Timeless Zone and a taste of the BEVAR SEA sound, stream the official lyric video for the album title track and lead single below.
The Timeless Zone track listing: 1. The Timeless Zone 2. Alpha None 3. Sterilise The Divide 4. The Circle 5. Kiss The Sigh 6. Cadaver Awake
On signing BEVAR SEA, Metal Assault Records owner Andrew Bansal states: “This one is special, and close to home (literally). When I briefly moved from Los Angeles to India in 2012-13, little did I know that I’d get to discover this amazing band. I happened to attend a gig in Mumbai wherein I got to see Bevar Sea live for the first time. It was their debut album release show and they left an indelible impression on me with their musicianship and performance that night. I made sure to attend as many of their shows as I could, particularly the ones in their hometown of Bangalore. Even after moving back to the US in 2013, I kept track of Bevar Sea’s progress and stayed in touch with the band members. Fast forward to 2021, they are now signed to my label and I could not be more excited!”
BEVAR SEA issued the following statement in celebration of their signing with Metal Assault Records. “Having managed the first two releases ourselves and having seen where most of our fans and orders come from, we looked out for a North America or Europe based label to release The Timeless Zone, essentially to fix some of the issues we’ve had with worldwide distribution and logistics, and also to allow us to focus more on the music itself. We’ve known Andrew as a friend and a fan for many years, and quick trivia, he was also our manager for a short while back in 2012, so his label and its diverse roster is an ideal match for us for this album and beyond.”
Established in 2008, BEVAR SEA roared into the live scene in 2011. The following year, their eponymous album was released and earned them rave reviews worldwide along with the title of “Best Emerging Act” at the Rolling Stone Metal Awards India. BEVAR SEA also snapped up a performance slot at the coveted Maryland Deathfest in 2013. Their debut album was mixed and mastered by the legendary Billy Anderson. The enthralling 45-min hook-ladened stoner/doom experience quickly garnered the band a firm reputation among fans in their country and internationally. Album track “Abishtu” which tells the story of a serial killer out for hipster blood and on the run from the law quickly became a live show favorite among fans while the 14-min track “Mono Gnome” about a short-statured man and his love for a witch turned out to be the pick in the doom circles.
BEVAR SEA followed up their debut album with Invoke the Bizarre in 2015. Drifting into new sonic territories, the band recorded at a breakneck pace over 10 days at Adarsh Recording Studio to complete the album. Mixing and mastering duties were handled by Matt Lynch (LA’s Mysterious Mammal Recording, also from the incredible band Snail). Invoke the Bizarre was well received by music media and fans alike for its intricate song arrangements, unique story-telling and mature, well-rounded execution. Now, five years after releasing Invoke the Bizarre Bangalore’s BEVAR SEA utilized the Covid-19 imposed lockdown as an opportunity to regroup and begin working on their third studio album, The Timeless Zone. Against backdrop of enigmatic lyrics portraying a tryst with the consciousness of man during a period of deep introspection; The Timeless Zone pays homage to the glory years of the 70s and 80s hard rock era while keeping things heavy handed in a gloomy haze of gnarly guitar riffs, raspy vocals and apocalyptic fuzz. Expect even more crushing from BEVAR SEA amidst the arrival of The Timeless Zone slated for release early 2022 on Metal Assault Records.
BEVAR SEA The Timeless Zone lineup (2021): Ganesh Krishnaswamy – Vocals Srikanth Panaman – Guitars Michael Talreja – Guitars Avinash Ramchander – Bass
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 21st, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Last heard from with 2015’s Invoke the Bizarre (review here), Bangalore sludge rockers Bevar Sea have returned and will issue their third album, The Timeless Zone, sometime in the coming months. The first single — also the title-track of the record — is due out April 30 and there’s a teaser below for the eight-minute entirety of the cut, which finds the band rocking classic Sabbathian basslines under nod-ready sludge riffs crisply captured to run alongside the throaty vocals. In other words, it’s Bevar Sea well intact despite their years of absence.
I think we’re seeing a lot of people who, either directly or indirectly as a result of the COVID-19 pandemic, took a look at who they are and what they’ve done creatively and maybe saw it in a new light. In addition to the glut of live records and streams, there are a number of bands making returns with new material. Maybe it was just being forced to sit on ass during quarantine, but if the result is more art, then that becomes the most righteous of positives from one of the worst crises of the last 100 years. I’m glad Bevar Sea are back and I look forward to hearing the album when the time comes. Or doesn’t, since we’re dealing with timelessness.
To the PR wire:
Bevar Sea is back with a brand new track and video – releases April 30th!
Five years after releasing their sophomore album ‘Invoke the Bizarre’, Bangalore’s Bevar Sea used the Covid-19 imposed lockdown as an opportunity to regroup and start working on the third album titled ‘The Timeless Zone’. With the backdrop of the lyrics portraying a tryst with the consciousness of man, storying into travels and visions within the self, the music on this song and over the course of the album, pays homage to the glory years of the 70s and 80s hard rock and metal with the typical rifftastic stoner/doom sound the band has embraced on the two albums prior to this.
The first single and title track “The Timeless Zone” will be released on April 30th along with a video for the track on all major streaming platforms. more details on the upcoming album will be released in the near future.
Bevar Sea adds: “The Timeless Zone, the song and the album, continues our approach of playing stoner doom music while being even more loyal to our hard rock and metal roots than before. Every band member had to step up and learn how to record themselves and work via email for arrangements, demos, and finally turn up one by one to record. This album is us embracing the 2021 way of making music while also being busy working from home, taking care of our families, and just dying to be able to play this new music to our fans live some day.”
With their beginnings in 2008, the band roared into the live scene in 2011, and in the following year their eponymous album ‘Bevar Sea’ was released, which earned them the “Best Emerging Act” at the Rolling Stone Metal Awards India and a slot in the coveted Maryland Deathfest in 2013 and rave reviews worldwide. Mixed and mastered by the legendary Billy Anderson, the album was regarded highly for their 45-min hook-laden stoner/doom experience by fans and quickly garnered the band a firm reputation in their country and internationally. The fan favourite (Abishtu) which narrates the tale of a serial killer out for hipster blood and on the run from the law became a permanent chant by fans whenever they stepped on stage, while the 14-min ‘Mono Gnome’ about a short statured man and his love for a witch closed the album and turned out to be the pick in the doom circles with their reefer-pleasing, ‘Sleep’– esque flow of slow riffing and raspy vocals.
Bevar Sea followed up their debut release with ‘Invoke the Bizarre’ in 2015. Drifting into new sonic territories, the band crafted a sinister mood for their audience in the first three tracks ‘Bearded and Bizarre’, ‘Bury me in Nola’, and ‘Sleeping Pool’ which boasted hooks over neck-twisting grooves, the down-tempo chug of the guitars and soaring lead guitars. With the vocal melody chanting ‘Look to the Sky’, the band closed the album with the epic ‘The Grand Alignment’ which comprised of a sublime cascade of riffs, solos, bass lines and vocal hooks. Recorded at a breakneck pace over 10 days at Adarsh Recording Studio and mixed and mastered by Matt Lynch (LA’s Mysterious Mammal Recording, also from the incredible band Snail), ‘Invoke the Bizarre’ was well received by the press and fans alike for their intricate song arrangements, unique story-telling, mature and well-rounded performances.
The Timeless Zone lineup (2021): Ganesh Krishnaswamy – Vocals Srikanth Panaman – Guitars Michael Talreja – Guitars Avinash Ramchander – Bass
Posted in Reviews on October 8th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
We’ve reached the portion of the Quarterly Review wherein I would no longer know what day it is if I didn’t have my notes to help me keep track. I suppose it doesn’t matter — the day, that is — since it’s 10 records either way, but I’d hate to review the same albums two days in a row or something. Though, come to think of it, that might be a fun experiment sometime.
Not today. Today is another fresh batch of 10 on the way to 60 by next Monday. We’ll get there. Always do. And if you’re wondering, today’s Thursday. At least that’s what I have in my notes.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin, Stygian Bough Vol. I
The collaborative effort Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin and their 64-minute full-length, Stygian Bough Vol. I — the intention toward future output together hinted at in the title already confirmed by the group(s) — is a direct extension of what Aerial Ruin, aka Erik Moggridge, brought to the last Bell Witch album, 2017’s Mirror Reaper (review here), in terms of complementing the crushing, emotionally resonant death-doom of the Washington duo with morose folk vocal melody. Stygian Bough Vol. I is distinguished by having been written by the two-plus-one-equals-three-piece as a group, and accordingly, it more fluidly weaves Moggridge‘s contributions into those of Bell Witch‘s Dylan Desmond and Jesse Shreibman, resulting in an approach like if Patrick Walker from Warning had joined Thergothon. It’s prevailing spirit is deep melancholy in longer pieces like “The Bastard Wind” and “The Unbodied Air,” both over 19 minutes, while it might be in “Heaven Torn Low I (The Passage)” and “Heaven Torn Low II (The Toll)” that the trio most effectively bring their intent to life. Either way, if you’re in, be ready to go all the way in, but know that it’s well worth doing so.
Traditional doom with flourish both of noise and NWOBHM guitars — that turn in the second half of opener “Transformation” is like a dogwhistle for Iron Maiden fans — I hear Cruthu‘s second album, Athrú Crutha, and all I can think of are label recommendations. The Michigan outfit’s 2017 debut, The Angle of Eternity (review here), was eventually issued on The Church Within, and that’d certainly work, but also Ván Records, Shadow Kingdom, and even Cruz Del Sur seem like fitting potential homes for the righteousness on display across the vinyl-ready six-song/39-minute outing, frontman Ryan Evans commanding in presence over the reverb-loaded classic-style riffs of guitarist Dan McCormick and the accompanying gallop in Matt Fry‘s drums given heft by Derek Kasperlik‘s bass. Like the opener, “Necromancy” and “Dimensional Collide” move at a good clip, but side B’s “The Outsider” and closer “Crown of Horns” slow things down following the surprisingly rough-edged “Beyond the Pale.” One way or the other, it’s all doomed and so are we.
Whereas 2017’s Berdreyminn (review here) existed in the shadow of 2014’s Ótta (review here), Endless Twilight of Codependent Love brings Iceland’s Sólstafir to a new place in terms of their longer-term progression. It is their first album with an English title since 2005’s Masterpiece of Bitterness, and though they’ve had English-language songs since then, the mellow “Her Fall From Grace” is obviously intended to be a standout here, and it is. On the nine-song/62-minute course of the album, however, it is one impression of many, and in the raging “Dionysus” and post-blackened “Drýsill,” 10-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “Akkeri,” richly atmospheric “Rökkur,” goth-lounging “Or” and worthy finale “Úlfur,” Sólstafir remind of the richly individual nature of their approach. The language swaps could be reaching out to a broader, non-Icelandic-speaking audience. If so, it’s only in the interest of that audience to take note if they haven’t already.
Curse is the first long-player from Portland, Oregon’s ILS, and it’s a rager in the PNW noise tradition, with uptempo, gonna-throw-a-punch-and-then-apologize riffs and basslines and swaps between semi-spoken shouts and vicious screams from Tom Glose (ex-Black Elk) that are precisely as jarring as they’re meant to be. I don’t think Curse is anyone’s first time at the dance — Glose, guitarist Nate Abner, bassist Adam Pike or drummer Tim Steiner — but it only benefits across its sans-bullshit 28-minute run by knowing what it wants to do. Its longest material, like the title-track or “Don’t Hurt Me,” which follows, or closer “For the Shame I Bring,” rests on either side of three and a half minutes, but some of the most brutal impressions are made in cuts like “It’s Not Lard but it’s a Cyst” or leadoff “Bad Parts,” which have even less time to waste but are no less consuming, particularly at high volume. The kind of record for when you want to assault yourself. And hey, that happens.
Apart from the consciously-titled three-minute noiseblaster finale “Antithesis” that’s clearly intended to contrast with what comes before it, Bismut‘s second LP for Lay Bare, Retrocausality, is made up of five extended instrumental pieces the shortest of which is just under 13 minutes long. The Nijmegen-based trio — guitarist Nik Linders, bassist Huibert der Weduwen, drummer Peter Dragt — build these semi-improvisational pieces on the foundation they set with 2018’s Schwerpunkt (review here), and their explorations through heavy rock, metal and psychedelia feel all the more cohesive as a song like “Vergangenheit” is nonetheless able to blindside with the heavy riff toward which it’s been moving for its entire first half. At 71 minutes total, it’s a purposefully unmanageable runtime, but as “Predvídanie” imagines a psych-thrash and “Oscuramento” drones to its crashing finish, Bismut seem to be working on their own temporal accord anyhow. For those stuck on linear time, that means repeat listens may be necessary to fully digest, but that’s nothing to complain about either.
UK instrumentalists Cracked Machine have worked relatively quickly over the course of their now-three albums to bring a sense of their own perspective to the tropes of heavy psychedelic rock. Alongside the warmth of tone in the guitar and bass, feeling drawn from the My Sleeping Karma/Colour Haze pastiche of progressive meditations, there is a coinciding edge of English heavy rock and roll that one can hear not so much in the drift of “Temple of Zaum” as in the push of “Black Square Icon,” which follows, as well as the subtle impatience of the drums on “October Dawn.” “Move 37,” on the other hand, is willfully speedier and more upbeat than much of what surrounds, but though opener/longest track (immediate points) “Cold Iron Light” hits 7:26, nothing on Gates of Keras sticks around long enough to overstay its welcome, and even in their deepest contemplations, the feeling of motion carries them and the listener effectively through the album’s span. They sound like a band realizing what they want to do with all the potential they’ve built up.
From cinematic paranoia to consuming and ultra-slow rollout of massive tonality, the debut offering from Megadrone — the one-man outfit of former Bevar Sea vocalist Ganesh Krishnaswamy — stretches across 53 minutes of unmitigated sonic consumption. If nothing else, Krishnaswamy chose the right moniker for the project. The Bandcamp version is spread across two parts — “Transmission A” (21:45) and “Transmission B” (32:09) — and any vinyl release would require significant editing as well, but the version I have is one huge, extended track, and that feels like exactly how Transmissions From the Jovian Antennae was composed and is supposed to be heard. Its mind-numbing repetitions lead the listener on a subtle forward march — there are drums back in that morass somewhere, I know it — and the piece follows an arc that begins relatively quiet, swells in its midsection and gradually recedes again over its final 10 minutes or so. It goes without saying that a 53-minute work of experimentalist drone crushscaping isn’t going to be for the faint of heart. Bold favors bold.
Sax-laced noise rock psychedelic freakouts, blown-out drums and shouts and drones, cacophonous stomp and chaotic sprawl, and a finale that holds back its payoff so long it feels cruel, KLÄMP‘s second album, Hate You, arrives less than a year after their self-titled debut, and perhaps there’s some clue as to why in the sheer mania of their execution. Hate You launches with the angularity of its 1:47 title-track and rolls out a nodding groove on top of that, but it’s movement from one part to another, one piece to another, is frenetic, regardless of the actual tempo, and the songs just sound like they were recorded to be played loud. Second cut “Arise” is the longest at 7:35 and it plays back and forth between two main parts before seeming to explode at the end, and by the time that’s done, you’re pretty much KLÄMPed into place waiting to see where the Utrecht trio go next. Oblivion wash on “An Orb,” the drum-led start-stops of “Big Bad Heart,” psych-smash “TJ” and that awaited end in “No Nerves” later, I’m not sure I have any better idea where that might be. That’s also what makes it work.
Preceded by two singles, Heni is the debut EP from Rio de Janeiro psychedelic tonal worshipers Mábura, and its three component tracks, “Anhangá,” “III/IV” and “Bong of God” are intended to portray a lysergic experience through their according ambience and the sheer depth of the riffs they bring. “Anhangá” has vocals following the extended feedback and drone opening of its first half, but they unfold as a part of the general ambience, along with the drums that arrive late, are maybe sampler/programmed, and finish by leading directly into the crash/fuzz launch of “III/IV,” which just before it hits the two-minute mark unfurls into a watershed of effects and nod, crashing and stomping all the while until everything drops out but the bass only to return a short time later with the Riff in tow. Rumbling into a quick fade brings about the toking intro of “Bong of God,” which unfolds accordingly into a riff-led noisefest that makes its point seemingly without saying a word. I wouldn’t call it groundbreaking, but it’s a first EP. What it shows is that Mábura have some significant presence of tone and purpose. Don’t be surprised when someone picks them up for a release.
It’s still possible to hear some of Astral Sleep‘s death-doom roots in their third album, Astral Doom Musick, but the truth is they’ve become a more expansive unit than that (relatively) simple classification than describe. They’re doom, to be sure, but there are progressive, psychedelic and even traditional doom elements at work across the record’s four-song/43-minute push, with a sense of conceptual composition coming through in “Vril” and “Inegration” in the first half of the proceedings while the nine-and-a-half-minute “Schwerbelastungskörper” pushes into the darkest reaches and closer “Aurinko ja Kuu” harnesses a swirling progressive spread that’s dramatic unto its last outward procession and suitably large-sound in its production and tone. For a band who took eight years to issue a follow-up to their last full-length, Astral Sleep certainly have plenty to offer in aesthetic and craft. If it took them so long to put this record together, their time wasn’t wasted, but it’s hard to listen and not wonder where their next step might take them.
