Posted in Whathaveyou on January 29th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
We are nearing the Feb. 14 release of Seán Mulrooney‘s debut solo album, This is My Prayer, and this week, the Tau and the Drones of Praise founder is streaming “The Pufferfish” as the second advance single. And if you heard “Ag Múschlaighacht,” which came out in November, don’t be surprised when “The Pufferfish” hits with a different vibe. Taking cues from Beatles-bouncing psychedelia, the four-minute cut works itself into a bit of a fervor with some genuine thrust behind it, but never loses the sweetness of its melody or the sense of fun that it brings as the closer of Murooney‘s Prayer, a blowout after some affecting and emotionally heavy moments. Well earned.
You can stream “The Pufferfish” now on the Bandcamp player below ahead of the song’s release on Friday. I’m not sure if that’s supposed to be accessible to the public, but it is, so have at it. And if you don’t know Tau or any of Mulrooney‘s other work, no sweat. It’s friendly enough that you’ll be able to get on board, no worries.
The PR wire brought particulars:
SEÁN MULROONEY DELIVERS PSYCHEDELIC STOMPER ‘THE PUFFERFISH’ OUT 31ST JANUARY
DEBUT SOLO ALBUM ‘THIS IS MY PRAYER’ COMING ON VALENTINE’S DAY 14TH FEBRUARY
Riding on the success of his debut solo single “Ag Múschlaighacht” last November, Dublin native Seán Mulrooney takes a psychedelic deep dive with his new song “The Pufferfish” which is out 31st January.
If Dexys Midnight Runners, Queens of the Stone Age, and Brian Eno collaborated on a song about dolphins getting high on – wait for it – pufferfish secretion, it might sound like Sean Mulrooney’s new single The Pufferfish. This psychedelic dance-floor odyssey, inspired by a BBC film documenting dolphins interacting with pufferfish to seemingly experience a hallucinogenic high, features Earl Harvin from Tindersticks and My Brightest Diamond on drums. Sean and Earl, who have crafted five records together, showcase their incredible musical symbiosis in this mind bending track.
*photos by Helio Leon
Mulrooney’s much hoped-for debut solo album This Is My Prayer is set for release on Friday 14th February 2025.
Posted in Reviews on December 9th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to the Quarterly Review. Oh, you were here last time? Me too. All door prizes will be mailed to winning parties upon completion of, uh, everything, I guess?
Anywhazzle, the good news is this week is gonna have 50 releases covered between now — the 10 below — and the final batch of 10 this Friday. I’m trying to sneak in a bunch of stuff ahead of year-end coverage, yes, but let the urgency of my doing so stand as testament to the quality of the music contained in this particular Quarterly Review. If I didn’t feel strongly about it, surely I’d find some other way to spend my time.
That said, let’s not waste time. You know the drill, I know the drill. Just don’t be surprised when some of the stuff you see here, today, tomorrow, and throughout the week, ends up in the Best of 2024 when the time comes. I have no idea what just yet, but for sure some of it.
We go.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
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Gnome, Vestiges of Verumex Visidrome
Some bands write songs for emotional catharsis. Some do it to make a political statement. Gnome‘s songs feel specifically — and expertly — crafted to engage an audience, and their third full-length, Vestiges of Verumex Visidrome, underscores the point. Hooks like “Old Soul” and “Duke of Disgrace” offer a self-effacing charm, where elsewhere the Antwerp trio burn through hot-shit riffing and impact-minded slam metal with a quirk that, if you’ve caught wind of the likes of Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol or Howling Giant in recent years, should fit nicely among them while finding its own sonic niche in being able to, say, throw a long sax solo on second cut “The Ogre” or veer into death growls for the title line of “Rotten Tongue” and others. They make ‘party riff metal’ sound much easier to manifest than it probably is, and the reason their reputation precedes them at this point goes right back to the songwriting. They hit hard, they get in, get out, it’s efficient when it wants to be but can still throw a curve with the stop and pivot in “Rotten Tongue,” running a line between punk and stoner, rock and metal, your face and the floor. It might actually be too enjoyable for some, but the funk they bring here is infectious. They make the riffs dance, and everything goes from there.
The lone studio track “Breathe” serves as the reasoning behind Hermano‘s first new release since 2007’s …Into the Exam Room (discussed here), and actually predates that still-latest long-player by some years. Does it matter? Yeah, sort of. As regards John Garcia‘s post-Kyuss career, Hermano both got fleshed out more than most (thinking bands like Unida and Slo Burn, even Vista Chino, that didn’t get to release three full-lengths in their time), and still seemed to fade out when there was so much potential ahead of them. If “Breathe” doesn’t argue in favor of this band giving it the proverbial “one more go,” perhaps the live version of “Brother Bjork” (maybe the same one featured on 2005’s Live at W2?) and a trio of cuts captured at Hellfest in 2016 should do the trick nicely. They’re on fire through “Senor Moreno’s Plan,” “Love” and “Manager’s Special,” with Garcia, Dandy Brown, David Angstrom, Chris Leathers and Mike Callahan treating Clisson to a reminder of why they’re the kind of band who might get to build an entire EP around a leftover studio track — because that studio track, and the band more broadly, righteously kick their own kind of ass. What would a new album be like?
Almost on a per-song basis, Stahv — the mostly-solo brainchild of multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Solomon Arye Rosenschein, here collaborating on production with John Getze of Ako-Lite Records — skewers and melds genres to create something new from their gooey remnants. On the opening title-track, maybe that’s a post-industrial Phil Collins set to dreamtime keyboard and backed by fuzzy drone. On “Lunar Haze,” it’s all goth ’80s keyboard handclaps until the chorus melody shines through the fog machine like The Beatles circa ’64. Yeah that’s right. And on “Bossa Supernova,” you bet your ass it’s bossa nova. “The Calling” reveals a rocker’s soul, where “Plainview” earlier on has a swing that might draw from The Birthday Party at its root (it also might not) but has its own sleek vibe just the same with a far-back, lo-fi buzz that somehow makes the melody sound better. “Aaskew” (sic) takes a hard-funkier stance musically but its outsider perspective in the lyrics is similar. The 1960s come back around in the later for “Circuit Crash” — it would have to be a song about the future — and “Leaving Light” seems to make fun of/celebrate (it can be both) that moment in the ’80s when everything became tropical. There’s worlds here waiting for ears adventurous enough to hear them.
I mean, look. The central question you really have to ask yourself is how mellow do you want to get? Do you think you can handle 12 minutes of “Transmigration?” Do you think you can be present in yourself through that cool-as-fuck, ultra-smooth psychedelic twist Space Shepherds pull off, barely three minutes into the the beginning of this seven-track, 71-minute pacifier to quiet the bad voices in your (definitely not my) brain. What’s up with that keyboard shuffle in “Celestial Rose” later on? I don’t know, but it rules. And when they blow it out in “Got Caught Dreaming?” Yeah, hell yeah, wake up! “Free Return” is a 15-minute drifter jam that gets funky in the back half (a phrase I’d like on a shirt) and you don’t wanna miss it! At the risk of spoiling it, I’ll tell you that the title-track, which closes, is absolutely the payoff it’s all asking for. If you’ve got the time to sit with it, and you can just sort of go where it’s going, Cycler is a trip begging to be taken.
It is all very big. All very grand, sweeping and poised musically, very modern and progressive and such — and immediately it has something if that’s what you’re looking for, which is super-doper, thanks — but if you dig into King Botfly‘s vocals, there’s a vulnerability there as well that adds an intimacy to all that sweep and plunges down the depths of the spacious mix’s low end. And I’m not knocking that part of it either. The Portsmouth, UK-based three-piece of guitarist/vocalist George Bell, bassist Luke Andrew and drummer Darren Draper, take on a monumental task in terms of largesse, and they hit hard when they want to, but there’s dynamic in it too, and both has an edge and doesn’t seem to go anywhere it does without a reason, which is a hard balance to strike. They sound like a band who will and maybe already have learned from this and will use that knowledge to move forward in an ongoing creative pursuit. So yes, progressive. Also tectonically heavy. And with heart. I think you got it. They’ll be at Desertfest London next May, and they sound ready for it.
Are Last Band a band? They sure sound like one. Founded by guitarists Pat Paul and Matt LeGrow (the latter also of Admiral Browning) upwards of 15 years ago, when they were less of an actual band, the Maryland-based outfit offer 13 songs of heavy alternative rock on The Sacrament in Accidents, with some classic metal roots shining through amid the harmonies of “Saffire Alice” and a denser thrust in “Season of Outrage,” a rush in the penultimate “Forty-Four to the Floor,” and so on, where the title-track is more of an open sway and “Lidocaine” is duly placid, and while the production is by no means expansive, the band convey their songs with intent. Most cuts are in the three-to-four-minute range, but “Blown Out” dips into psychedelic-gaze wash as the longest at 5:32 offset by comparatively grounded, far-off Queens of the Stone Age-style vocalizing in the last minute, which is an effective culmination. The material has range and feels worked on, and while The Sacrament in Accidents sounds raw, it hones a reach that feels true to a songwriting methodology evolved over time.
Debuting earlier this decade as a solo-project of Andrew Cox, Seattle’s Dream Circuit have built out to a four-piece for with Pennies for Your Life, which throughout its six-track/36-minute run sets a contemplative emotionalist landscape. Now completed by Anthony Timm, Cody Albers and Ian Etheridge, the band are able to move from atmospheric stretches of classically-inspired-but-modern-sounding verses into heavier tonality on a song like “Rosy” with fluidity that seems to save its sweep for when it counts. The title-track dares some shouts, giving some hint of a metallic underpinning, but that still rests well in context next to the sitar sounds of “Let Go,” which opens at 4:10 into its own organ-laced crush, emotionally satisfying. Imagine a post-heavy rock that’s still pretty heavy, and a dynamic that stretches across microgenres, and maybe that will give some starting idea. The last two tracks argue for efficiency in craft, but wherever Dream Circuit go on this sophomore release, they take their own route to get there.
“All is Light” is the first single from New Paltz bliss-drone meditationalist solo outfit Okkoto since 2022’s stellar and affirming Climb the Antlers and Reach the Stars (review here), and its seven minutes carry a similar scope to what one found on that album. To be clear, that’s a compliment. Interwoven threads of synth over methodical timekeeping drum sounds, wisps of airy guitar drawn together with other lead lines, keys or strings, create a flowing world around the vocals added by Michael Lutomski, also (formerly?) of heavy psych rockers It’s Not Night: It’s Space, the sole proprietor of the expanse. A lot of a given listener’s experience of Okkoto experience will depend on their own headspace, but if you have the time and attention — seven-plus minutes of active-but-not-too-active hearing recommended — but “All is Light” showcases the rare restorative aspects of Okkoto in a way that, if you can get to it, can make you believe, or at least escape for a little while.
Trappist Afterland, Evergreen: Walk to Paradise Garden
Underscored with a earth-rooted folkish fragility in the voice of Adam Geoffrey Cole (also guitar, cittern, tanpura, oud, synth, xylophone and something called a ‘dulcitar’), Melbourne’s Trappist Afterland are comfortably adventurous on this 10th full-length, Evergreen: Walk to Paradise Garden, which digs deeper into psych-drone on longest track “Cruciform/The Reincarnation of Kelly-Anne (Parts 1-3)” (7:55) while elsewhere digs into fare more Eastern-influenced-Western-traditional, largely based around guitar composition. With an assortment of collaborators coming and going, even this is enough for Cole and his seemingly itinerant company to create a sense of variety — the violin in centerpiece “Barefoot in Thistles” does a lot of work in that regard; ditto the squeezebox of opener “The Squall” — and while the arrangements don’t lack for flourish, the human expression is paramount, and the nine songs are serene unto the group vocal that caps in “You Are Evergreen,” which would seem to be placed to highlight its resonance, and reasonably so. As it’s Trappist Afterland‘s 10th album by their own count, it’s hardly a surprise they know what they’re about, but they do anyway.
For a band who went so far as to name themselves after a fuzz pedal, Spain’s Big Muff Brigade have more in common with traditional desert rock than the kind of tonal worship one might expect them to deliver. That landscape doesn’t account for their naming a song “Terre Haute,” seemingly after the town in Indiana — I’ve been there; not a desert — but fair enough for the shove of that track, which on Pi arrives just ahead of closer “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” which builds to a nonetheless-mellow payoff before its fadeout. Elsewhere, the seven-minute “Pierced by the Spear” drops Sleepy (and thus Sabbathian) references in the guitar ahead of creating a duly stonerly lumber before they even unfurl the first verse — a little more in keeping with the kind of riff celebration one might expect going in — but even there, the band maintain a thread of purposeful songcraft that can only continue to serve them as they move past this Argonauta-delivered debut and continued to grow. There is a notable sense of outreach here, though, and in writing to genre, Big Muff Brigade show both their love of what they do and a will to connect with likeminded audiences.
Posted in Whathaveyou on November 1st, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Known for the encompassing psychedelic folk of Tau and the Drones of Praise, singer-songwriter, guitarist, and troubadour Seán Mulrooney will make his full-length solo debut on Valentine’s Day 2025, Feb. 14, with This is My Prayer. Due to release through Mulrooney‘s own imprint, Ómós Records, the self-produced outing is prefaced by the new single “”Ag Múschlaighacht,” and while certainly Mulrooney‘s voice and distinctive vocal patterning will be a familiar aspect to anyone familiar with what Tau is and does, the relatively stripped-down arrangement and classic it’s-a-protest-song-but-also-about-love feel are a branch in a new direction. Not every song on the record goes to the same place — I’ve heard it and won’t pretend otherwise; did a read/edit on the bio below before it was final — but “Ag Múschlaighacht” represents the spirit and general mood of the material well.
Mulrooney‘s first solo work was the late-2023 single “No Two Sides” (posted here) protesting the ongoing Palestinian genocide, which, it can’t be said enough, my country is financing. I’d take comfort in that every nation’s history is replete with shame but for the fact that maybe that says something about the structure of what nations are needs to change? What do I know.
In any case, I’ll hope to have more on This is My Prayer before it releases. Here’s the announcement from the PR wire:
SEÁN MULROONEY LAUNCHES SOLO CAREER WITH DETAILS OF NEW ALBUM ‘THIS IS MY PRAYER’
LEAD SINGLE AND VIDEO AG MÚSCLAIGHACHT RELEASED TODAY
Seán Mulrooney launches a solo career with the announcement of his debut solo album This Is My Prayer which is set for release on Friday 14th February 2025.
The first single to be lifted from the eight track album is the beautiful Ag Múschlaighacht which is available everywhere now.
Seán Mulrooney’s decision to launch a solo career marks a significant and deeply personal turning point in his musical journey. After years of success with Tau & the Drones of Praise and over two decades of rich musical exploration, including 13 years spent in Berlin, the Ireland-based Mulrooney felt a powerful creative pull to step away and craft something distinctly his own, and the result is the psych-folk masterpiece debut ‘This Is My Prayer.’
This shift began to materialize with the release of “No Two Sides” in December 2023, a poignant song addressing the genocide of the Palestinian people. The track resonated widely, reaching No. 7 on the iTunes charts, and became a major catalyst for Mulrooney’s new direction.
In 2023, not only did Mulrooney embark on this solo-project, but he also founded a new record label, Ómós Records. The label’s first offering will also be Mulrooney’s first LP under his own name. ‘This Is My Prayer’ is set for release on February 14th.
“The creation of this album was deeply influenced by a period of solitude following a breakup,” Mulrooney explains. “I retreated to a cabin in Wicklow in January 2024, where I could channel this grief into music.” It worked. Six songs were crafted in February. Describing the tone of the album, Mulrooney speaks of “Love as a supernova that removes all shackles, that sweet spot between you and I, sorrow and joy.” Intensely personal and broadly resonant, blending darkness with moments of profound beauty, ‘This Is My Prayer’ sees Mulrooney’s songwriting exploring new paths with an intimacy of purpose drawn out amid a cosmic expanse. It is decisively and definitively his.
Musically, the album is dense, authentic, and rooted in Irish folk elements, while also incorporating worldly (and otherworldly) influences. It’s been compared to Michael Gira’s Angels of Light, suggesting a blend of the spiritual and the raw. The album reflects Mulrooney’s reconnection with his Irish roots after returning from Berlin in 2019, a move that reawakened his sense of belonging and fuelled his creative evolution.
Themes on the album range from heartache and self-love, reclaiming personal power, men’s work, with one track even featuring a story about how dolphins get high on a psychoactive compound called tetrodotoxin found in — wait for it — pufferfish excretion. While this new sound diverges from the psych-folk traditions of Tau, it still draws from the deep well of inspiration that has always characterized Mulrooney’s work.
Self-produced and recorded at la Briche audio in France with long term collaborator Earl Harvin of Tindersticks on drums and co production, ‘This Is My Prayer’ is a powerful manifestation of Mulrooney’s artistic growth, continuing to deliver music that is 100 percent spiritually charged and straight from the heart.
A project conceived in early 2024, album delivered in early 2025. As Mulrooney says, “If not now, when?”
Posted in Reviews on October 17th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Writing this intro from a bench near the playground at my daughter’s grade school. It was different equipment at the time — made of unrecycled tires, because it was the ’80s — but I used to play here when I was her age too. The Pecan’s day ended about 10 minutes ago and after-school go-time has become part of the routine when we don’t have to be elsewhere. It’s chilly today — I have my hat on for the first time since winter, but if I was more used to the cold, I wouldn’t need it. If it was April, I’d be in shorts celebrating the arrival of spring. All depends on which way the planet is tipped, I guess.
Pretty sure I mentioned this at some point, but in part because the Quarterly Review is going well, I’m adding an 11th day. That brings it up to 110 releases, which, frankly, is just stupid. I don’t really have a reason I’m doing any of it except that I am. I feel the same about a lot of this lately.
As happens with any decent QR more than a week long, I’m behind on news. I don’t really have anything to say about a new Dax Riggs song or an Acid Bath reunion without any context, and I’m not cool enough to be in the know on any of it, but Roadburn has done a lineup announcement that I’d like to post and Uncle Acid announced a US tour, so there’s stuff to catch up on. Tuesday and on, I suppose. Good thing the internet exists or disseminating any of this information might have any stakes to it whatsoever.
Quarterly Review #81-90:
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Castle, Evil Remains
Hammerheart Records steps forth to issue the masterful metallurgy of Castle‘s Evil Remains. The duo of bassist/vocalist Liz Blackwell and guitarist/vocalist Mat Davis work with drummer Mike Cotton on the 37-minute eight-tracker that’s the first new Castle LP since 2018’s Deal Thy Fate (review here), and their take on dark heavy rock meeting in a pocketknife alley with doom, thrash and classic metal continues to be utterly their own. “Queen of Death,” “Nosferatu Nights,” the swaggering “Evil Remains” itself, all the way down to the twisting leads, dual-vocals and hard-chug of “Cold Grave” — the message of the album is glaring across its span in how undervalued Castle are and have been over their 15 years, but even that can’t top the vibrancy of the songs themselves, which have long given up genre concerns in pursuit of the individualism they’ve found.
Clearly, Vancouver’s Waingro titled their new release Sports in honor of the 40th anniversary of the Huey Lewis album of the same name. It’s hard to find the influence of the 1980s pop superstar — who, with Sports, really came into his own, commercially and artistically, according to American Psycho — in the band’s ripper heavy hardcore punk, but they’ve got five tracks in 11 minutes, so there’s no risk of overstaying their welcome with the likes of the minute-long fuzz instrumental “Masonic Falls” or the apocalyptic post-hardcore of centerpiece “Brougham,” which follows the opening pair of “Fuel for Vomit” and “Sports,” which don’t seem to have been put together accidentally as the EP closes with its two shortest pieces in “Masonic Falls” and the subsequent “Pray for Blackout.” Both are under two minutes long, and while the former is something of a breather after the assault of “Brougham,” “Pray for Blackout” is vicious and pummeling, leaving on an intense, raw note in which Waingro bask.
15-minute opener “Dåderman Renoverar” jams its way into a sax-topped ’50 bop and swing, like you’re down at the soda shop getting a pull of root beer and here come these crazy Swedish psychedelic jammers to get the hula-hoops spinning, so yes, För Samtida Djur 2 is very much a Kungens Män release. As well it should be, following just months behind the preceding För Samtida Djur 1 (review here) with four more pieces piped in from the greater distances of Out There in improv rock-as-jazz psychedelic fashion. “Dåderman Renoverar” is leadoff and longest (immediate points), while “Väntar På Zonen” (8:28) is less of a build than a mellow dwell, “Skör Lugg” (11:43) hypnotizes with guitar before unfurling a pastoralism worthy of Sweden’s history of progressive psych-folk and “Gubbar Reser Sig” (8:36) ends with a bit of bounce and build amid brighter jangle that they let unwind at the finish, completing the cycle in duly eccentric fashion. This band is a treasure, make no mistake. Every time they step in a room, someone should be recording.
Maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise that Caffeine‘s The Threshold feels so tense and taut since it executes its eight songs in 29 minutes — 10 of which are dedicated to “Ghost Town” and “The Agency” on side B — but as its two sides play out, the Hanover, Germany-based trio of vocalist/bassist Denis Radoncic, guitarist Andre Werk and drummer/vocalist Enrico “Rocko” Winkler, plus Sebi on keys and guitar, find a progressive heavy thrust that’s informed by early Mastodon in its crunch and the rearing-up of riffs on “Last Train” and the twisting rhythms of the title-track, but from a post-hardcore rush in “The THreshold” to the humming tones of the penultimate interlude “Citadel” — which has a more percussive counterpart in side A’s “Rorschach’s Waltz” to the pro-shop heavy metal of “Dead End,” Caffeine‘s material sounds thoughtful in its construction without being a gimme in terms of influence or losing itself in the intensity as it unfolds. This is the band’s second record. It’s a fucking beast.
They’re delivered in a deathly rasp, as perhaps it would need to be, before the clean vocals arrive, but the lyrics in “Space is Now Tainted” from The Mountain King‘s 13th album in 10 years, Stoma, are among the most fitting encapsulations of life under apocalypse-capitalism that I’ve seen. The whole song is brilliant, and it’s one of eight on the 48-minute LP, so I’m not trying to neglect anything else, but when I see lines like, “And when the last tree is down/You will climb the bodies of the ones who didn’t drown,” it’s hard not to be taken aback. The later “Dripping Bats” offers thoughts and prayers for the death of god, so the righteousness is by no means isolated as The Mountain King find a version of doom metal the chug of which has learned at least as much from Carcass‘ Heartwork as anything Black Sabbath ever did, and pushes into avant miserablism in “Twomb” or the intermittently volatile/gorgeous “To the Caves!,” which would seem to be the end The Mountain King see for human decline. Back to the caves. At least the end of the world turned up some good art. I wish more bands would dare to have an opinion.
Time will tell how the balance of NWOBHM grandstanding and from-farther-back boogie shakes out in the sound of German newcomers Kant, but for now, it’s an intriguing blend on the Aschaffenburg-based four-piece’s debut album, Paranoia Pilgrimage, and with the backing of Sound of Liberation Records, one might take the cavernous vocals, cultish melodies and declarative guitar work as part of the needed injection of fresh perspectives that the European heavy underground has been receiving the last few years in generational turnover. That is to say, there’s potential in the nuance of a song like “Traitors Lair,” which injects from flute-prog into the proceedings, and even as Kant search for ‘their sound,’ what they’re finding is likewise varied and exciting, if not blindingly original. The sharper corners of “Dark Procession” and the atmospheric depth offered in opener “The Great Serpent” both find an underpinning of darker, more cultish sounds — unsurprisingly, “Occult Worship” bears that out as well — but when the lead cut launches into its solo late in its five-minute going, Kant revel in the freedom of that breakout. Wherever time and their exploration takes them, Paranoia Pilgrimage is the foundation on which they’ll build.
With a mix and master by Karl Daniel Lidén (Katatonia, Dozer, Greenleaf, Vaka, Demon Cleaner, etc.) building on the production helmed by guitarist/vocalist Luc Bourgeois and guitarist Shawn Rice, it’s little wonder Sandveiss‘ third full-length, Standing in the Fire, sounds as full and charged as it does, from the first tones of “I’ll Be Rising” through drummer Dominic Gaumond‘s clinic in “Bleed Me Dry.” Completed by bassist Maxime Moisan, who is the force behind the propulsive “Wait and See” and the later, more expansive “These Cold Hands,” Sandveiss present Standing in the Fire as a showcase of multifaceted songwriting intent. The title-track, opener “I’ll Be Rising,” and the careening “Fade (Into the Night)” are catchy uptempo fuzzers kin to the ethic of Valley of the Sun, but “No Love Here” and the ensuing huge roll of “Bleed Me Dry” bring a stately cast and highlight some of the variety of mood and purpose amid all the heft and professional-grade craft throughout.
If you like your sludge noisy — or your noise sludged — aggressive and pummeling, Plant signal from Madison, Wisconsin, with their first album, Cosmic Phytophthora, a gnashing and duly punishing 44-minute/six-song assault that hits a particularly escape-proof crescendo in side B’s “Envenoming the Carrion” (11:59) and “Skyburial” (11:04) before closing with the harsh tumult of “Wolf Plague.” Once upon a time bands like Axehandle and The Mighty Nimbus walked the earth. Plant would stand well alongside either, with leadoff “Until it Dies” cracking open a can — I’ll assume lime seltzer? — before the drums kick in on what’s basically a spoken-word-topped riff introducing the seethe and tones that define what’s to come, screaming by the time its three minutes are up. “Anthracnos Stalk Rot” and the outright brutality of “Root Worm” follow and underscore the impression of a horticultural thematic, but whether you’re digging on plant parts or reeling from the various punches the band throw along the way, it’s hard not to be moved by a debut that has such a clear idea of what it’s about. Make it loud, make it caustic, make it hurt. Riffs to break oneself upon.
Tommy and the Teleboys, Gods, Used, in Great Condition
There are threads of punk and classic rock running through Tommy and the Teleboys‘ dance-ready debut long-player, Gods, Used in Great Condition, but ultimately the album is neither of them. United under a scope that includes psychedelia, proggy-jazz and maybe a bit of heavy blues, the post-modern nine-song outing has a depth of mix all the more emphasized through the band’s stylistic range, but it’s a feeling of brashness that seems most to bring the songs together and the vital sense of command in the tracks themselves. Each follows its own plot, whether it’s the willfully off-kilter “Loverboy” or textured pieces like “Seninle” and “Srevokk” later on, but “Gib Mir” and “Jesus Crowd” at the start — shades of Bowie Ameriphobia in the latter — give Gods, Used in Great Condition quirk to coincide with all its hey-we’re-not-40-yet urgency, and while the band range hither and yon in terms of style, there’s nowhere the melodic wash of “Jeffrey 3000” or the otherworldly wistful strum of “Night at the Junkyard” go that feels out of place in the surrounding context, and Tommy and the Teleboys seem to be serving notice to anyone clued in of intention to disrupt. One hopes they do.
MEDB is a new solo-project by Rodger Boyle, who also runs Cursed Monk Records and features in bands like Noosed, ÚATH and Stonecarver, among others, and this first demo unveils four songs working under the stated concept of conveying the landscape/ambience of Boyle‘s home in Waterford, Ireland. Certainly the ambience of “Returning Home” is darker than the photos from the Port Láirge tourism committee, but while MEDB lays claim to a drumless drone on that nine-and-a-half-minute opener, “Glasha,” “Mahon Falls” and “The Wild Deer of Sillaheen” conjure a more full-band impression, plodding in “Glasha” before “Mahon Falls” digs into a more open and meditative feel in one guitar layer while lower distortion holds sway beneath, and “The Wild Deer of Sillaheen” earns its post-metallic antlers at the finish. So you’re saying there’s more than one thing going on in Waterford? Reasonable to expect for the oldest city in the Republic of Ireland, and all the better for inspiring future manifestation from MEDB, whatever form that might take. You could do worse than learning about a place through audio.
By the time today is through — come hell or high water! — we will be at the halfway point of this two-week Quarterly Review. It hasn’t been difficult so far, though there are ups and downs always and I don’t think I’m giving away secrets when I tell you that in listening to 50 records some are going to be better than others.
Truth is that even outside the 100 LPs, EPs, etc., I have slated, there’s still a ton more. Even in something so massive, there’s an element of picking and choosing what goes in. Curation is the nice word for it, though it’s not quite that creatif in my head. Either way, I hope you’ve found something that connects this week. If not yet, then today. If not today, then maybe next week. As I’m prone to say on Fridays, we’re back at it on Monday.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
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Pallbearer, Mind Burns Alive
While I won’t take away from the rawer energy and longing put into their earlier work, maturity suits Pallbearer. The Little Rock, Arkansas, four-piece of vocalist/guitarist Brett Campbell, guitarist/backing vocalist Devin Holt, bassist/synthesist/backing vocalist Joseph D. Rowland and drummer Mark Lierly have passed their 15th anniversary between 2020’s Forgotten Days (review here) and the self-recorded six tracks of Mind Burns Alive, and they sound poised harnessing new breadth and melodic clarity. They’ve talked about the album being stripped down, and maybe that’s true to some degree in the engrossing-anyhow opener “When the Light Fades,” but there’s still room for sax on the 10-minute “Endless Place,” and the quieter stretches of the penultimate “Daybreak” highlight harmonized vocals before the bass-weighted riff sweeps in after the three-minute mark. Campbell has never sounded stronger or more confident as a singer, and he’s able to carry the likewise subdued intro to “Signals” with apparent sincerity and style alike. The title-track flashes brighter hopes in its later guitar solo leads, but they hold both their most wistful drift and their most crushing plod for closer “With Disease,” because five records and countless tours (with more to come) later, Pallbearer very clearly know what the fuck they’re doing. I hope having their own studio leads to further exploration from here.
With its six pieces arranged so that side A works from its longest track to its shortest and side B mirrors by going shortest to longest, Denver‘s BleakHeart seem to prioritize immersion on their second full-length, Silver Pulse, as “All Hearts Desire” unfolds fluidly across nearly eight minutes, swelling to an initial lumbering roll that evaporates as they move into the more spacious verse and build back up around the vocals of Kiki GaNun (also synth) and Kelly Schilling (also bass, keys and more synth). Emotional resonance plays at least as much of a role throughout as the tonal weight intermittently wrought by JP Damron and Mark Chronister‘s guitars, and with Joshua Quinones on drums giving structure and movement to the meditations of “Where I’m Disease” before leaving the subsequent “Let Go” to its progression through piano, drone and a sit-in from a string quartet that leads directly into “Weeping Willow,” the spaces feel big and open but never let the listener get any more lost in them than is intended. This is the first LP from the five-piece incarnation of BleakHeart, which came together in 2022, and the balance of lushness and intensity as “Weeping Willow” hits its culmination and recedes into the subdued outset of “Falling Softly” and the doomed payoff that follows bodes well, but don’t take that as undercutting what’s already being accomplished here.
Austria’s Pryne — also stylized all-caps: PRYNE — threaten to derail their first album before it’s even really started with the angular midsection breakdown of “Can-‘Ka No Rey,” but that the opener holds its course and even brings that mosher riff back at the end is indicative of the boldness with which they bring together the progressive ends of metal and heavy rock throughout the 10-song/46-minute offering, soaring in the solo ahead of the slowdown in “Ramification,” giving the audience 49 seconds to catch its breath after that initial salvo with “Hollow Sea” before “Abordan” resumes the varied onslaught with due punch, shove and twist, building tension in the verse and releasing in the melodic chorus in a way that feels informed by turn-of-the-century metal but seeming to nod at Type O Negative in the first half bridge of “Cymboshia” and refusing flat-out to do any one thing for too long. Plotted and complex even as “The Terrible End of the Yogi” slams out its crescendo before the Baronessy verse of “Plaguebearer” moves toward a stately gang shout and squibbly guitar tremolo, they roll out “Enola” as a more straight-ahead realignment before the drone interlude “Shapeless Forms” bursts into the double-kick-underscored thrash of closer “Elder Things,” riding its massive groove to an expectedly driving end. You never quite know what’s coming next within the songs, but the overarching sense of movement becomes a uniting factor that serves the material well regardless of the aggression level in any given stretch.
Backed by looped percussive ticks and pops and the cello-esque melody of the gudok, Toronto experimental singer-songwriter Avi C. Engel is poised as they ask in the lyrics of “Breadcrumb Dance,” “How many gods used to run this place/Threw up their hands, went into real estate” near the center of the seven-song Too Many Souls LP. Never let it be said there wasn’t room for humor in melancholy. Engel isn’t new to exploring folkish intimacy in various contexts, and Too Many Souls feels all the more personal even in “Wooly Mammoth” or second cut “Ladybird, What’s Wrong?” which gets underway on its casual semi-ramble with the line, “One by one I watch them piss into the sun,” for the grounded perspective at root. An ongoing thread of introspection and Engel‘s voice at the center draw the songs together as these stories are told in metaphor — birds return in the album’s second half with “The Oven Bird’s Song” but there’s enough heart poured in that it doesn’t need to be leaned into as a theme — and before it moves into its dreamstate drone still with the acoustic guitar beneath, “Without Any Eyes” brings through its own kind of apex in Engel‘s layered delivery. Topped with a part-backmasked take on the traditional “Wayfaring Stranger” that’s unfortunately left as an instrumental, Too Many Souls finds Engel continuing their journey of craft with its own songs as companions for each other and the artist behind them.
The 13-minute single “Ultrawest” follows behind Aktopasa‘s late-2022 Argonauta Records debut, Journey to the Pink Planet (review here), and was reportedly composed to feature in a documentary of the same name about the reshaping of post-industrial towns in Colorado. It is duly spacious in its slow, linear, instrumentalist progression. The Venice, Italy, three-piece of guitarist Lorenzo Barutta, bassist Silvio Tozzato and drummer Marco Sebastiano Alessi are fluid as they maintain the spirit of the jam that likely birthed the song’s floating atmospherics, but there’s a plan at work as well as they bring the piece to fruition, with Alessi subtly growing more urgent around 10 minutes in to mark the shift into an ending that never quite bursts out and isn’t trying to, but feels like resolution just the same. A quick, hypnotic showcase of the heavy psychedelic promise the debut held, “Ultrawest” makes it easy to look forward to whatever might come next for them.
Right onto the list of 2024’s best debuts goes Guenna‘s Peak of Jin’Arrah, specifically for the nuance and range the young Swedish foursome bring to their center in heavy progressive fuzz riffing. One might look at a title like “Bongsai” or “Weedwacker” (video premiered here) and imagine played-to-genre stoner fare, but Guenna‘s take is more ambitious, as emphasized in the flute brought to “Bongsai” at the outset and the proclivity toward three-part harmonies that’s unveiled more in the nine-minute “Dimension X,” which follows. The folk influence toward which that flute hints comes forward on the mostly-acoustic closer “Guenna’s Lullaby,” which takes hold after the skronk-accompanied, full-bore push that caps “Wizery,” but by that point the context for such shifts has been smoothly laid out as being part of an encompassing and thoughtful songwriting process that in less capable hands would leave “Ordric Major” disjointed and likely overly aggressive. Even as they make room for the guest lead vocals of Elin Pålsson on “Dark Descent,” Guenna walk these balances smoothly and confidently, and if you don’t believe there’s a generational shift happening right now — at this very moment — in Scandinavia, Peak of Jin’Arrah stands ready to convince you otherwise. There’s a lot of work between here and there, but Guenna hold the potential to be a significant voice in that next-gen emergence.
The interplay of stoner-metal tonal density and languid vocal melody in “I Thought I Would Not” sets an atmospheric mood for Slow Green Thing on their fourth LP, Wetterwarte / Waltherstrasse, which the Dresden-based four-piece seem to have recorded in two sessions between 2020 and 2022. That span of time might account for some of the scope between the songs as “Thousand Deaths” holds out a hand into the void staring back at it and the subsequent “Whispering Voices” answers the proggy wash and fuzzed soloing of “Tombstones in My Eyes” with roll and meditative float alike, but I honestly don’t know what was recorded when and there’s no real lack of cohesion within the aural mists being conjured or the heft residing within it, so take that as you will. It’s perhaps less of a challenge to put temporal considerations aside since Slow Green Thing seem so at home in the flow that plays out across Wetterwarte / Waltherstrasse‘s six songs and 44 minutes, remaining in control despite veering into more aggressive passages and basing so much of what they do on entrancing and otherworldly vibe. And while the general superficialities of thickened tones and soundscaping, ‘gaze-type singing and nod will be familiar, the use made of them by Slow Green Thing offers a richer and deeper experience revealed and affirmed on repeat listens.
Don’t expect a lot of trickery in Ten Ton Slug‘s awaited first full-length record, Colossal Oppressor, which delivers its metallic sludge pummel with due transparency of purpose. That is to say, the Galway, Ireland, trio aren’t fucking around. Enough so that Bolt Thrower‘s Karl Willetts shows up on a couple of songs. Varied but largely growled or screamed vocals answer the furious chug and thud of “Balor,” and while “Ghosts of the Ooze” later on answers back to the brief acoustic parts bookending opener “The Ooze” ahead of “Mallacht an tSloda” arriving like a sledgehammer only to unfold its darkened thrash and nine-plus-minute closer “Mogore the Unkind” making good on its initial threat with the mosh-ready riffing in its second half, there’s no pretense in those or any of the other turns Colossal Oppressor makes, and there doesn’t need to be when the songs are so refreshingly crushing. These guys have been around for over a decade already, so it’s not a surprise necessarily to find them so committed to this punishing mission, but the cathartic bloodletting resonates regardless. Not for everyone, very much for some on the more extreme end of heavy.
Don’t let the outward Beatles-bouncing pop-psych friendly-acid traditionalism of “Goodbye Suzy” lull you into thinking San Francisco psych rockers Magic Fig‘s self-titled debut is solely concerned with vintage aesthetics. While accessible even in the organ-and-synth prog flourish of “PS1” — the keyboards alone seeming to span generations — and the more foreboding current of low end under the shuffle and soft vocals of “Obliteration,” the six-song/28-minute LP is no less effective in the rising cosmic expanse that builds into “Labyrinth” than the circa-’67 orange-sun lysergic folk-rock that rolls out from there — that darker edge comes back around, briefly, in a stop around the two-minute mark; it’s hard to know which side is imagining the other, but “Labyrinth” is no less fun for that — and “Distant Dream,” which follows, is duly transcendent and fluid. Given additional character via the Mellotron and birdsong-inclusive meditation that ends it and the album as a whole, “Departure” nonetheless feels intentional in its subtly synthy acoustic-and-voice folkish strum, and its intricacy highlights a reach one hopes Magic Fig will continue to nurture.
If you followed along with Dortmund, Germany’s Scorched Oak on their 2020 debut, Withering Earth (review here), as that album dug into classic heavy rock as a means of longer-form explorations, some of what they present in the 39 minutes of Perception might make more sense. There was plenty of dynamic then too in terms of shifts in rhythm and atmosphere, and certainly second-LP pieces like “Mirrors” and “Relief” come at least in part from a similar foundation — I’d say the same of the crescendo verse of “Oracle” near the finish — but the reportedly-recorded-live newer offering finds the band making a striking delve into harder and more metallic impacts on the whole. An interplay of gruff — gurgling, almost — and soulful melodic vocals is laid out as opener/longest track (immediate points) “Delusion” resolves the brooding toms of its verse with post-metal surges. Perhaps it’s obvious enough that it doesn’t need to be said, but Scorched Oak aren’t residing in a single feel or progression throughout, and the intensity and urgency of “Reflection” land with a directness that the closing “Oracle” complements in its outward spread. The element of surprise makes Perception feel somewhat like a second debut, but that they pull off such an impression is in itself a noteworthy achievement, never mind how much less predictable it makes them or the significant magnitude of these songs.
Alright, back at it. Putting together yesterday over the weekend was more scattershot than I’d prefer, but one might say the same of parenting in general, so I’ll leave it at that. Still, as happens with Quarterly Reviews, we got there. That my wife gave me an extra 40 minutes to bang out the Wizzerd video premiere was appreciated. As always, she makes everything possible.
Compared to some QRs, there are a few ‘bigger’ releases here. You’ll note High on Fire leading off today. That trend will continue over this and next week with the likes of Pallbearer, Uncle Acid, Bongripper, Harvestman (Steve Von Till, ex-Neurosis), Inter Arma, Saturnalia Temple spread throughout. The Pelican two-songer and My Dying Bride back to back a week from today. That’ll be a fun one. As always, it’s about the time crunch for me for what goes in the Quarterly Review. Things I want to cover before it’s too late that I can fit here. Ain’t nobody holding their breath for my opinion on any of it, or on anything generally for that matter, but I’m not trying to slight well known bands by stuffing them into what when it started over a decade ago I thought would be a catchall for demos and EPs. Sometimes I like the challenge of a shorter word count, too.
And I remind myself here again nobody really cares. Fine, let’s go.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
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High on Fire, Cometh the Storm
What seems at first to be business as usual for High on Fire‘s fourth album produced by Kurt Ballou, fifth for MNRK Heavy (formerly E1), and ninth overall, gradually reveals itself to be the band’s tonally heaviest work in at least the last 15 years. What’s actually new is drummer Coady Willis (Big Business, Melvins) making his first studio appearance alongside founding guitarist/vocalist Matt Pike (Sleep, Pike vs. the Automaton) and long-tenured bassist/backing vocalist Jeff Matz (also saz on the instrumental interlude-plus “Karanlik Yol”), and for sure Willis‘ thud in “Trismegistus,” galloping intensity in the thrashy and angular “The Beating” and declarative stomp beneath the big slowdown of 10-minute closer “Darker Fleece” is part of it, but from the way Pike and Matz bring “Cometh the Storm’ and “Sol’s Golden Curse” in the record’s middle to such cacophonous ends, the three-and-a-half-minute face-kick that is “Lightning Beard” and the suckerpunch that starts off with “Lambsbread,” to how even the more vocally melodic “Hunting Shadows” is carried on a wave of filthy, hard-landing distortion, their ferocity is reaffirmed in thicker grooves and unmitigated pummel. While in some ways this is what one would expect, it’s also everything for which one might hope from High on Fire a quarter-century on from their first demo. Triumph.
A release concurrent to a remastered edition of their 2016 debut, Lemanis (review here), only puts into emphasis how much Spaceslug have come into their own over eight productive years. Recorded by drummer/vocalist Kamil Ziółkowski (also Mountain of Misery), with guitarist/vocalist Bartosz Janik and bassist/vocalist Jan Rutka dug into familiar tonal textures throughout five tracks and a quick but inevitably full-length-flowing 32 minutes, Out of Water is both otherworldly and emotionally evocative in the rollout of “Arise the Sun” following the intertwined shouts of opener “Tears of Antimatter,” and in keeping with their progression, they nudge toward metallic aggression as a way to solidify their heavy psychedelic aspects. “Out of Water” is duly mournful to encapsulate such a tragic notion, and the nod of “Delusions” only grows more forcefully applied after the return from that song’s atmospheric break, and while they depart with “In Serenity” to what feels like the escapism of sunnier riffing, even that becomes more urgent toward the album’s finish. The reason it works is they’re bending genre to their songs, not the other way around, and as Spaceslug mature as a group, they’ve become one of Poland’s most essential heavy acts.
First issued on CD through JM Records in 2023, Lie Heavy‘s debut album, Burn to the Moon, sees broader release through Heavy Psych Sounds with revamped art to complement the Raleigh, North Carolina, four-piece’s tonal heft and classic reach in pieces like “In the Shadow” and “The Long March,” respectively. The band is fronted by Karl Agell (vocalist for C.O.C.‘s 1991 Blind album and now also in The Skull-offshoot Legions of Doom), and across the 12-song/51-minute run, and whether it’s the crunch of the ripper “When the Universe Cries” or the Clutch-style heavy funk of “Chunkadelic” pushing further from the start-stops of “In the Shadow” or the layered crescendo of “Unbeliever” a short time later, he and bassist/vocalist TR Gwynne, guitarist/vocalist Graham Fry and drummer/vocalist Jeff “JD” Dennis deliver sans-pretense riff-led fare. They’re not trying to fix what wasn’t broken in the ’90s, to be sure, but you can’t really call it a retread either as they swing through “Drag the World” and its capstone counterpart “End the World”; it all goes back to Black Sabbath anyway. The converted will get it no problem.
Dublin, Ireland, trio Burning Realm mark their first release with the four-song Face the Fire EP, taking the cosmic-tinged restlessness of Wild Rocket and setting it alongside more grounded riffing, hinting at thrash in the ping ride on “From Beyond” but careening in the modern mode either way. Lead cut “Homosapien” gives Hawkwindian vibes early — the trap, which is sounding like Slift, is largely avoided, though King Gizzard may still be relevant as an influence — but smoothly gives over to acoustics and vocal drone once its urgency has bene vaporized, and spacious as the vocal echo is, “Face the Fire” is classic stoner roll even into its speedier ending, the momentum of which is continued in closer “Warped One (Arise),” which is more charged on the whole in a way that feels linear and intended in relation to what’s put before it. A 16-minute self-released introduction to who Burning Realm are now, it holds promise for how they might develop stylistically and grow in terms of range. Whatever comes or doesn’t, it’s easy enough to dig as it is. If you were at a show and someone handed you the tape, you’d be stoked once you put it on in the car. Also it’s like 1995 in that scenario, apparently.
Offered through an international consortium of record labels that includes Crême Brûlée Records in the band’s native France, Echodelick in the US, Clostridium in Germany and Weird Beard in the UK, French heavy psych thrusters Kalac‘s inaugural full-length, Odyssée — also stylized all-caps — doesn’t leave much to wonder why so many imprints might want some for the distro. With a focus on rhythmic movement in the we-gotta-get-to-space-like-five-minutes-ago modus of current-day heavy neo-space-rock, the mostly instrumental procession hypnotizes even as it peppers its expanses with verses here or there. That might be most effectively wrought in the payoff noiseblaster wash of “II,” which I’m just going to assume opens side B, but the boogie quotient is strong from “Arguenon” to “Beautiful Night,” and while might ring familiar to others operating in the aesthetic galaxial quadrant, the energy of Kalac‘s delivery and the not-haphazard-but-not-always-in-the-same-spot-either placement of the vocals are enough to distinguish them and make the six-tracker as exciting to hear as it sounds like it probably was to record.
The live-tracked fourth outing from Helsinki psych improvisationalists Alkuräjähdys, the lowercase-stylized ehdot. blends mechanical and electronic sounds with more organic psychedelic jamming, the synth and bassier punchthrough in the midsection of opening piece “.matriisi” indeed evocative of the dot-matrix printer to which its title is in reference, while “központ,” which follows, meanders into a broader swath of guitar-based noise atop a languidly graceful roll of drums. That let’s-try-it-slower ideology is manifest in the first half of the duly two-sided “a-b” as well, as the 12-minute finale begins by lurching through the denser distortion of a central riff en route to a skronk-jazz transition to a tighter midtempo groove that I’ll compare to Endless Boogie and very much intend that as a compliment. I don’t think they’re out to change the world so much as get in a room, hit it and see where the whole thing ends up, but those are noble creative aims in concept and practice, and between the two guitars, effects, synth and whathaveyou, there’s plenty of weird to go around.
Already a significant undertaking as a 95-minute 2LP running 11 tracks themed — as the title(s) would hint — around tarot cards, the mostly serene sprawl of Magick Brother & Mystic Sister‘s Tarot Pt. 1 is still just the first of two companion albums to be issued as the follow-up to the Barcelona outfit’s 2020 self-titled debut (discussed here). Offered through respected Greek purveyor Sound Effect Records, Tarot Pt. 1 gives breadth beyond just the runtime in the sitar-laced psych-funk of “The Hierophant” (swap sitar for organ, synth and flute on “The Chariot”) and the classic-prog pastoralia of closer “The Wheel of Fortune,” and as with the plague-era debut, at the heart of the material is a soothing acid folk, and while the keys in the first half of “The Emperor” grow insistent and there’s some foreboding in the early Mellotron and key lines of “The Lovers,” Tarot Pt. 1 resonates comfort and care in its arrangements as well as ambition in its scope. Maybe another hour and a half on the way? Sign me up.
The eight-year distance from their 2016 debut long-player, Little Cliffs, seems to have smoothed out some (not all, which isn’t a complaint) of the rough edges in Amigo‘s sound, as the seemingly reinvigorated San Diego four-piece of lead guitarist/vocalist Jeff Podeszwik (King Chiefs), guitarist Anthony Mattos, bassist Sufi Karalen and drummer Anthony Alley offer five song across an accessible, straightforward 17 minutes united beneath the fair-enough title of Good Time Island. Without losing the weight of their tones, a Weezery pop sensibility comes through in “Dope Den” while “Frog Face” is even more specifically indebted to The Cars. Neither “Telescope Boy” nor “Banana Phone” lacks punch, but Amigo hold some in reserve for “Me and Soof,” which rounds out the proceedings, and they put it to solid use for an approach that’s ’90s-informed without that necessarily meaning stoner, grunge or alt, and envision a commercially relevant, songwriting-based heavy rock and roll for an alternate universe that, by all accounts here, sounds like a decent place to be.
Culminating in the Sabbathian shuffle of “Eye for an Eye,” Wild Fever is the hook-drenched third full-length from Montreal fuzzbringers The Hazytones, and while they’ve still got the ‘tones’ part down pat, it’s easy to argue the eight included tracks are the least ‘hazy’ they’ve been to-date. Following on from the direction of 2018’s II: Monarchs of Oblivion (review here), the Esben Willems-mixed/Kent Stump-mastered 40-minute long-player isn’t shy about leaning into the grittier side of what they do as the opening title-track rolls out a chorus that reminds of C.O.C. circa In the Arms of God while retaining some of the melody between the vocals of Mick Martel (also guitar and keys) and Gabriel Prieur (also drums and bass), and with the correspondingly thick bass of Caleb Sanders for accompaniment and lead guitarist John Choffel‘s solo rising out of the murk on “Disease,” honing in on the brashness suits them well. Not where one might have expected them to end up six years later, but no less enjoyable for that, either.
God damn that’s harsh. Mostly anonymous industrialists — you get F and N for names and that’s it — All Are to Return are all the more punishing in the horrific recesses and engulfing blasts of static that populate III than they were in 2022’s II (review here), and the fact that the eight-songer is only 32 minutes long is about as close as they come to any concept of mercy for the psyche of their audience. Beyond that, “Moratorium,” “Colony Collapse,” the eats-you-dead “Archive of the Sky” and even the droning “Legacy” cast a willfully wretched extremity, and what might be a humanizing presence of vocals elsewhere is screams channeled through so much distortion as to be barely recognizable as coming from a human throat here. If the question being posed is, “how much can you take?,” the answer for most of those brave enough to even give III a shot will be, “markedly less than this.” A cry from the depths realizing a brutal vision.
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 15th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
As is the case here, I often ask bands for quotes about songs, new albums, tours, whatever the news is, really. I think Ten Ton Slug might be the first outfit who’ve ever sent back a blurb about a new single and ended it with an all-caps “OUGH,” in the fine tradition of one Tom G. Warrior. Since the song the Irish burlbringers are unveiling from their upcoming Colossal Oppressor is the aggro-shoving “Ancient Ways,” this could hardly be more appropriate.
“Ancient Ways” brings five-plus minutes of overarching groove, layered growls, shouts and screams, and a largesse-bent approach that, if it was sloppier, you could probably call sludge, but that here stands astride your soon-to-be-hammer-smashed skull with poise in its own violence. It’s a big groove, big tone, big riffs, and the vibe is punishment, but almost certainly the kind of punishment inflicted on one’s neck after a night of headbanging, however ominous the threat of the album’s title.
Ten TonSlug journey to the US in June for Maryland Doom Fest, and they’ve got dates in Limerick and Dublin before they travel. More on that, the quote, and of course the song follow here, courtesy of the PR wire:
Ten Ton Slug on “Ancient Ways”:
The album ‘Colossal Oppressor’ concerns itself primarily on the theme of oppression in its many guises, and on the many ways it is inflicted on humanity by the world and by the Slug. ‘Ancient Ways’ is one of two tracks on the album (along with the Irish language track – ‘Mallacht an tSloda’) which deals with this theme not from the perspective of the oppressor, but instead from the perspective of those under the yoke of unbearable hardship. More specifically it reveals the mindset and determination needed to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles, to face the monster and beat it to the earth, to ultimately summon your power, and move forward.
The track is blues inspired with a stoner feel, featuring big dirty riffs and colossal drums. OUGH.
Ten Ton Slug release the 2nd single from the upcoming album ‘Colossal Oppressor’ which releases everywhere on May 1st on Vinyl, CD and Digital
The song ‘Ancient Ways’ is more stoner/blues/melody driven than the previous single yet contains all the elements one has come to expect from the Slug and more. Huge riffs, pummelling drums and grooves and melodies that stick in your head.
Subjugation approaches.
Catch the Slug live in Ireland this May: May 3rd Dolans Limerick (ticket link) May 5th The Grand Social Dublin (ticket link)
And in the USA this June: June 23rd Maryland Doom Fest, Maryland, USA (ticket link)
Ten Ton Slug: Rónán Ó hArrachtáin – Vocals Pavol Rosa – Bass Sean Sullivan – Guitars/Vocals Kelvin Doran – Drums* *All drums written and arranged by Mícheál Ó Súilleabháin
Cork, Ireland-based atmospheric sludge/post-metal four-piece Coroza will release their second album, As Within, through Cursed Monk Records on May 20. Today they’re premiering their video for the title-track, which takes the familiar notion of a band-in-a-place-type clip and uses it as a means of emphasizing the mood and character of the music. As the 10-minute finale of the LP that bears its name unfolds, its quiet intro pulls back from the colorful stained glass of the initial shot and shifts into black and white as the pullback from the window reveals Coroza set up on the floor of what looks to be a fancy university library or some such. At about a minute in, both the song and the clip burst to life around a heavier part change, the color returns with vivid clarity and the band play through the closing cut that gives the album its name.
That visual change is thoughtful, not haphazard, and like the various mirror effects and swirls throughout, it coincides with where the song is going and highlights the considered aspects of Coroza‘s craft. In following their 2019 debut, Chaliceburner (review here), guitarist/vocalists Jack O’Neill and Ciarán Coghlan, bassist Tomás O’Brien (who makes his first recorded appearance on the album) and drummer Oliver Cunningham depart from some of the ultra-extended fare on offer such that, where only one song on Chaliceburner was under 10 minutes long, on As Within, the only track that crosses the same line is “As Within” itself, however close others might come.
It’s not a huge upheaval in aesthetic terms, but at five songs and 42 minutes, As Within gives a more efficient impression even in the take-a-moment-to-commune-with-the-deity-or-deities-of-your-choice-before-the-riff-hits break in the penultimate “Scorched Earth.” Whether that’s a purposeful change of approach, mindful creative progression or simply the shape the songs took as the bludgeoning nods were compiled, I don’t know, but like when the color pops back on in the “As Within” video, the methodical manner in which the bordering-on-extreme heft of “Immersed” is delivered, and the way the instrumental “The Shifting Sands” follows its quiet-loud-quiet pattern as something of an interlude-plus for the centerpiece of the digital and CD versions of the album, it feels like they meant for it to happen.
But to be sure, the crux of As Within is in its crush, conveyed immediately upon the start of opener “Myrrh,” which has well-I’m-sure-this-is-about-as-heavy-as-it’ll-get written all over it until “Immersed” comes on some nine minutes later and is even more trenchantly apocalyptic. Given space in the reverb on that low distortion as well as in the vocal tradeoffs between Coghlan and O’Neill — a guttural rasp reminiscent of Celestial-era Isis meeting with chant-like meditative melodies in the cleaner parts — As Within opens further in “The Shifting Sands” en route to the renewed intensity of “Scorched Earth” and the title-track’s subdued intro and ensuing productive destruction resolved in mood and thoughtful in execution. If it’s never occurred to you to say the phrase, “Hail Irish heavy” out loud, the monolithic lumber and roiling tension of “As Within” might get you there.
They provide a bit of relief around six minutes in, and the leads in the second half carry an airier reach not entirely removed from the plod-and-tremolo finish of “Myrrh,” the opener and closer giving a symmetrical feel to As Within while further emphasizing the sense of purpose brought to the album as a whole work. They know of what they obliterate — which is to say they’re schooled in genre and I don’t think anyone here would try to get away with saying they’d never heard Neurosis — but Coroza‘s second full-length takes significant strides in establishing the band’s place in the harder-hitting depths of the post-metallic sphere, doing so with distinct, affecting and cathartic force.
Coroza will play at Cursed Monk Records‘ 2024 edition of Monk Fest on July 6, performing As Within in its entirety. I hope someone gets video with soundboard audio.
More on that (including the ticket link) and about the record (including the preorder link) follows the video premiere below, courtesy of the PR wire.
Please enjoy:
Coroza, “As Within” video premiere
Cursed Monk Records are thrilled to announce that we will be releasing Coroza’s sophomore album “As Within.”
Not only will Coroza be joining us for this year’s Monk Fest, but they will also be playing their new album “As Within” in full! Monk Fest 2024 will take place on July 6th. Monk Fest is in aid of Temple St. Children’s Hospital. Tickets are available here:https://www.eventbrite.com/e/monk-fest-2024-tickets-765729105367
Coroza was formed in Cork, Ireland in mid-2015 and over the course of two years honed their sound into a devastatingly heavy form, which encompasses heavy blues, metal, sludge, doom and stoner elements, leading to the release of their well-received self-titled demo in 2017.
Extensive gigging cemented them into the local scene and soon Coroza began appearing on bills around Ireland, landing support slots to international touring bands such as Conan, Bolzer and Tusker. 2019 saw the release of their debut album Chaliceburner which was met with positive reviews.
Coroza’s second album titled “As Within”, was recorded and mixed by renowned producer Aidan Cunningham and mastered by Magnus Lindberg (Cult of Luna).
Says the band: “We would like to thank Aidan Cunningham – Mixing for recording and mixing this album. All tracks were recorded live in the room with some overdubs added afterward. Aidan’s work ethic, knowledge and insight was invaluable and we cannot thank him enough for how this album turned out. He captured the exact sound we were hoping for. Also, a huge thanks to Magnus Lindberg Productions for mastering the album and ensuring it gets heard perfectly in all formats.”
‘As Within’ releases May 20th on LP, CD, Cassette, and Digital!
