El P?ramo hablan del desierto. Actually, they don’t “hablan” (or whatever the correct verb form is; apologies for my ignorance of the beautiful Spanish language) at all, they’re instrumental. But musically, their free-flowing jams and Colour Hazey tones point the way to wind-carved dunes that stretch for miles. The Madrid four-piece, whose name translates to The Wasteland, offer a simple take on desert rock but don’t go as far as ripping anyone off. Their influences are easily discernable — Colour Haze and Kyuss being principle — but the seven tracks on their Alone Records self-titled debut boast a warmth and character that’s all their own.

Santi, Santi, Jorge and David (drums, bass, guitar and guitar, respectively) offer their ’70s psych wares in a variety of packages, be it the expanse of opener “Varicela,” which at 11:53 does more than merely set the tone for the rest of El P?ramo or the heavier, riffier, “Sirope de Arena,” which follows “La Benedici?n de Eolo,” a track that eases the transition by combining jamming with more straight ahead guitar work.

As ever with roots stoner rock, and even more so with the European variety than with their US counterparts who will try anything to avoid the label, El P?ramo don’t necessarily branch out much from the well established parameters of the style sound-wise — that is, they’re not bringing in unexpected instrumentation or off-the-wall timing — but as the Los Natas-esque lines that run through the early part of “Infecci?n de Escorpi?n” sweetly ring out, the lack of pretentiousness alone is enough to carry the song. It’s a rare genre that’s so approachable? that bands can get together and release albums purely because they love the music. The vibe I get from El P?ramo is that they are as much saluting the masters of the style as they are emulating them.

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As someone who followed Long Island booze hounds Dirty Rig from their Blood, Sweat and Beer inception to their unfortunate fizzling out, I was glad to see bassist Steve “Buckshot” Seabury emerge with a new band in record time. The yet-instrumental trio Moth Eater — in which Buckshot is joined by former Scar Culture guitarist John Conley and ex-‘Rig bandmate Dave Ardolina on drums — boasts a darker sound than the lighthearted, Kory Clarke (Warrior Soul, Trouble) fronted outfit Dirty Rig became by their end, with sludge-covered Southern riffs basking in the traditions of New Orleans and the Southeastern set that gave birth to acts like Alabama Thunderpussy, Weedeater and Beaten Back to Pure. The music is still drunk, but it’s a more aggressive kind of drunk.

With three demos posted on their MySpace page and a rehearsal video to their credit, Moth Eater are clearly just getting going, but The Obelisk is proud to be the first to discuss the trio with Buckshot and introduce them to the scene at large. After the jump, the bassist discusses Moth Eater‘s formation, putting together his own label — Giddy Up! Records — where to find half-price Blue Moon for a pre-practice ritual and when we can expect a debut release. Crack open a beer and enjoy.

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I’ve only been to West Virginia once in my life; I was about 12 years old. Even at that tender, pubescent age, when hormones had me thinking of little other than boobies (so much has changed), I was able to look around and notice that it was the whitest place I’d ever seen. White people, everywhere. 95.99 percent Caucasian, according to the 2005 census as quoted on Wikipedia. It was one pale-ass state.

But these aren’t the rich white motherfuckers who made a rectal dartboard of our economy and stole our retirements out from under us to give themselves multi-million dollar bonuses. These are coal miners, who’ve been screwed over by the same powers that be since the days of the robber barons. They’ve hollowed out their beautiful stretch of Appalachia and have what exactly to show for it? Bosses with cash enough to get the best PR out of each and every mine collapse.

The inherent conflict of their home state and working man’s frustration is evident in the instrumental post-doom offerings of Huntington, West Virginia trio Hyatari (all white). Originally brought to prominence with the helping hand of a 2005 reissue of their self-released 2004 album, The Light Carriers by Earache Records subsidiary Code:Breaker, the band soon found themselves in similar straits as labelmates Figure of Merit, Abandon and Zatokrev. When the label project went under, so did they. Hyatari were off the map.

With the late 2008 release of They Will Surface — sounds as much like a warning as an assurance, doesn’t it? — Hyatari reemerged through Caustic Eye Productions with six extended suns that never set; each track droning its way into and out of and back into oblivion like sheets of universe crashing into each other. It is hypnotic and disturbing.

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As I here and look at the window on the snowy valley and make ready to type this review, I’ve popped in my old promo of Witch‘s self-titled debut (filed right between Wintersun and Witchcraft) from 2006, in an effort to remind myself just why I expected such awesomeness at the show they, Earthless and Philadelphia local riffers Snake Sustaine put on at Asbury Lanes on Friday. Admittedly, it had been nearly three years since I’d seen them, but I didn’t expect the ravages of time to have played out quite so cruelly on their sound.

I’m getting ahead of myself.

Asbury Lanes in Asbury Park, despite its unfortunate locale, is probably the best venue in New Jersey to see a show. Where Starland Ballroom is too big and absolutely unbearable when overcrowded and Maxwell’s has the even worse luck to be stranded in the douchebag metropolis that is Hoboken, the Lanes is just right. Unfortunately it’s also a 90 minute drive from the valley. Some you win, some you lose.

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Fact is, when Metal Mind reissues something, they do it up right — albums remastered on golden discs, digipaks, liner notes, limited runs, bonus tracks out the ass, sometimes redone art and sometimes not, and when they acquire a property, they consider the best way of getting it out there to the people. They’re not all great, because in the Polish imprint’s quest to mine the back catalogs of the likes of Nuclear Blast and Roadrunner there are duds a-plenty, but in the case of Mountain Mama’s, the triple CD box set combining West Virginian recently-reunited, mostly-instrumental riff-mongers Karma to Burn‘s three full-lengths — Karma to Burn (1997), Wild Wonderful Purgatory (1999) and Almost Heathen (2002) — they nailed it.

I’d liken it to the box treatment Warner International gave to Kyuss‘ Blues for the Red Sun, Welcome to Sky Valley and …And the Circus Leaves Town in 2000, but where that was essentially the three albums wrapped in cardboard, Metal Mind gives us these remastered three Karma to Burn discs in a custom digipak with striking artwork by Elizabeth Duebell biting the head off the Wild Wonderful Purgatory cover; redder and without the lady patriot. Hard to lose when you’ve got a Satanic goat dressed in Native American garb riding a horse carring the West Virginia state flag.

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Speaking of Blabbermouth, check this out:

Acclaimed West Virginia instrumental heavy rockers Karma to Burn have put their differences aside and reformed for a limited series of dates. Karma to Burn split in 2002 after bassist Rich Mullins left to join Texas aggro-rockers Speedealer.

Shows kick off April 16 at the Sound Factory in Charleston, WV with Karma to Burn as main support for Unknown Hinson. Headlining shows will follow in Huntington, WV with local doomsters Hyatari and Columbus with Sin Nombre. More gigs will be announced soon, including possible European dates.

Karma to Burn consists of guitarist Will Mecum (Treasure Cat), bassist Rich “Dickie” Mullins (Year Long Disaster) and drummer Rob Oswald (Nebula).

Boy, it’s a good thing they decided to get this band going again. Year Long Disaster was kind of rough to take.

Karma to Burn on MySpace