Posted in Whathaveyou on July 23rd, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Founding guitarist/vocalist Yukito Okazaki of Nagoya, Japan’s Eternal Elysium has announced a new rhythm section for the long-running doom rocker outfit. Drummer Ume and bassist Togawa comprise the refreshed incarnation of the classic-heavy-influenced trio, whose most recent offering was the 2019 live album, 末世の葬礼 贰 现场 (The Last Days of the Funeral 2: Live), released through Dying Art Productions. Eternal Elysium had been working with Ukrainian imprint Robustfellow on a couple of catalog reissues as well, and the band’s most recent studio LP is Resonance of Shadows (review here), which first saw release in 2016 on Cornucopia Records before Headspin Records pressed it as a 2LP the next year.
Okazaki talks about working on new (and old) material for gigs in Japan later this year, and of course the prospect of the next Eternal Elysium LP — it’d be their seventh; how nobody has reissued 2000’s Spiritualized D is a mystery in my head — is an exciting one, whenever, if ever, such a thing might surface. Either way, a check-in from the band is an excuse to put on the live record, and I’ll take it happily.
Here’s the announcement from socials. Pretty straightforward:
ETERNAL ELYSIUM Relaunched with new members.
Drummer is a friend Ume.
Carrying the groove of Eternal again after great experience and practice.
The bassist is Togawa from Azarak.
FROM BOTTOM TO COLOR WE CREATE WITH A CERTAIN TOUCH.
And me Okazaki.
This dependable rhythm section helped me out again the sound of Eternal Elysium.
Now I’m rehearsing for my first live show in a while. Getting some fun with some new and old intertwined songs, getting them done little by little.
Two live shows have been decided for the year: Tokyo in October and Nagoya in December.
I’m grateful for the performance.
This will be your chance to experience the new EE sound. Details to follow.
Welcome back to the Quarterly Review. Good weekend? Restful? Did you get out and see some stuff? Did you loaf and hang out on the couch? There are advantages to either, to be sure. Friday night I watched my daughter (and a literal 40 other performers, no fewer than four of whom sang and/or danced to the same Taylor Swift song) do stand-up comedy telling math jokes at her elementary school variety show. She’s in kindergarten, she likes math, and she killed. Nice little moment for her, if one that came as part of a long evening generally.
The idea this week is the same as last week: 50 releases covered across five days. Put the two weeks together and the Spring 2024 Quarterly Review — which I’m pretty sure is what I called the one in March as well; who cares? — runs 100 strong. I’ll be traveling, some with family, some on my own, for a bit in the coming months, so this is a little bit my way of clearing my slate before that all happens, but it’s always satisfying to dig into so much and get a feel for what different acts are doing, try and convey some of that as directly as I can. If you’re reading, thanks. If this is the first you’re seeing of it and you want to see more, you can either scroll down or click here.
Either way, off we go.
Quarterly Review #51-60:
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Pelican, Adrift/Tending the Embers
Chicago (mostly-)instrumentalist stalwarts Pelican haven’t necessarily been silent since 2019’s Nighttime Stories (review here), with a digital live release in Spring 2020, catalog reissues on Thrill Jockey, a couple in-the-know covers posted and shows hither and yon, but the stated reason for the two-songer EP Adrift/Tending the Embers is to raise funds ahead of recording what will be their seventh album in a career now spanning more than 20 years. In addition to that being a cause worth supporting — they’re on the second pressing; 200 blue tapes — the two new original tracks “Adrift” (5:48) and “Tending the Embers” (4:26) reintroduce guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec as a studio presence alongside guitarist Trevor Shelley de Brauw, bassist Bryan Herweg and drummer Larry Herweg. Recorded by the esteemed Sanford Parker, neither cut ranges too far conceptually from the band’s central modus bringing together heavy groove with lighter/brighter reach of guitar, but come across like a tight, more concise encapsulation of earlier accomplishments. There’s a certain amount of comfort in that as they surf the crunching, somehow-noise-rock-inspired riff of “Adrift,” sounding refreshed in their purpose in a way that one hopes they can carry into making the intended LP.
Something of a harsher take on A Mortal Binding, which is the 15th full-length from UK death-doom forebears My Dying Bride, as well as their second for Nuclear Blast behind 2020’s lush The Ghost of Orion (review here. The seven-song/55-minute offering from the masters of misery derives its character in no small part from the front-mixed vocals of Aaron Stainthorpe, who from opener “Her Dominion” onward, switches between his morose semi-spoken approach, woeful as ever, and dry-throated harsher barks. And that the leadoff is all-screams feels like a purposeful choice as that rasp returns in the second half of “The 2nd of Three Bells,” the 11-minute “The Apocalyptist,” “A Starving Heart” and the ending section of closer “Crushed Embers.” I don’t know when the last time a My Dying Bride LP sounded so roiling, but it’s been a minute. The duly morose riffing of founding guitarist Andrew Craighan unites this outwardly nastier aspect with the more melodic “Thornwyck Hymn,” “Unthroned Creed” and the rest that isn’t throatripper-topped, but with returning producer Mark Mynett, the band has clearly honed in on a more stripped-down, still-room-for-violin approach, and it works in just about everything but the drums, which sound triggered/programmed in the way of modern metal. It remains easy to get caught in the band’s wretched sweep, and I’ll note that it’s a rare act who can surprise you 15 records later.
Masonic Wave‘s self-titled debut is the first public offering from the Chicago-based five-piece with Bruce Lamont (Yakuza, Corrections House, Led Zeppelin II, etc.) on vocals, and though “Justify the Cling” has a kind of darker intensity in its brooding first-half ambience, what that build and much besides throughout the eight-song offering leads to is a weighted take on post-hardcore that earlier pieces “Bully” and “Tent City” present in duly confrontational style before “Idle Hands” (the longest inclusion at just under eight minutes) digs into a similar explore-till-we-find-the-payoff ideology and “Julia” gnashes through noise-rock teethkicking. Some of the edge-of-the-next-outburst restlessness cast by Lamont, guitarists Scott Spidale and Sean Hulet, bassist Fritz Doreza and drummer Clayton DeMuth reminds of Chat Pile‘s arthouse disillusion, but “Nuzzle Up” has a cyclical crunch given breadth through the vocal melody and the sax amid the multiple angles and sharp corners of the penultimate “Mountains of Labor” are a clue to further weirdness to come before “Bamboozler” closes with heads-down urgency before subtly branching into a more spacious if still pointedly unrelaxed culmination. No clue where it might all be headed, but that’s part of the appeal as Masonic Wave‘s Sanford Parker-produced 39 minutes play out, the songs engaging almost in spite of themselves.
There are shades of latter-day Conan (whose producer/former bassist Chris Fielding mixed here) in the vocal trades and mega-toned gallop of opening track “Sky Father,” which Bismarck expand upon with the more pointedly post-metallic “Echoes,” shifting from the lurching ultracrush into a mellower midsection before the blastbeaten crescendo gives over to rumble and the hand-percussion-backed whispers of the intro to “Kigal.” Their first for Dark Essence, the six-song/35-minute Vourukasha follows 2020’s Oneiromancer (review here) and feels poised in its various transitions between consuming aural heft and leaving that same space in the mix open for comparatively minimal exploration. “Kigal” takes on a Middle Eastern lean and stays unshouted/growled for its five-plus minutes — a choice that both works and feels purposeful — but the foreboding drone of interlude “The Tree of All Seeds” comes to a noisy head as if to warn of the drop about to take place in the title-track, which flows through its initial movement with an emergent float of guitar that leads into its own ambient middle ahead of an engrossing, duly massive slowdown/payoff worthy of as much volume as it can be given. Wrapping with the nine-minute “Ocean Dweller,” they summarize what precedes on Vourukasha while shifting the structure as an extended, vocal-inclusive-at-the-front soundscape bookends around one more huge, slow-marching, consciousness-flattening procession. Extremity refined.
That fact that Sun Moon Holy Cult exist on paper as a band based in Tokyo playing a Sabbath-boogie-worshiping, riff-led take on heavy rock with a song like “I Cut Your Throat” leading off their self-titled debut makes a Church of Misery comparison somewhat inevitable, but the psych jamming around the wah-bass shuffle of “Out of the Dark,” longer-form structures, the vocal melodies and the Sleep-style march of “Savoordoom” that grows trippier as it delves further into its 13 minutes distinguish the newcomer four-piece of vocalist Hakuka, guitarist Ryu, bassist Ame and drummer Bato across the four-song LP’s 40 minutes. Issued through Captured Records and SloomWeep Productions, Sun Moon Holy Cult brings due bombast amid the roll of “Mystic River” as well, hitting its marks stylistically while showcasing the promise of a band with a clear idea of what they want their songs to do and perhaps how they want to grow over time. If this is to be the foundation of that growth, watch out.
Dortmund, Germany’s Daily Thompson made their way to Port Orchard, Washington, to record Chuparosa with Mos Generator‘s Tony Reed at the helm, and the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Danny Zaremba, bassist/vocalist Mercedes Lalakakis and drummer/vocalist Thorsten Stratmann bring a duly West Coast spirit to “I’m Free Tonight” and the grunge-informed roll of “Diamond Waves” and the verses of “Raindancer.” The former launches the 36-minute outing with a pointedly Fu Manchuian vibe, but the start-stops, fluid roll and interplay of vocals from Zaremba and Lalakakis lets “Pizza Boy” move in its own direction, and the brooding acoustic start of “Diamond Waves” and more languid wash of riff in the chorus look elsewhere in ’90s alternativism for their basis. The penultimate “Ghost Bird” brings in cigar-box guitar and dares some twang amid all the fuzz, but as “Raindancer” has already branched out with its quieter bassy midsection build and final desert-hued thrust, the album can accommodate such a shift without any trouble. The title-track trades between wistful grunge verses and a fuller-nodding hook, from which the three-piece take off for the bridge, thankfully returning to the chorus in Chuparosa‘s big finish. The manner in which the whole thing brims with purpose makes it seem like Daily Thompson knew exactly what they were going for in terms of sound, so I guess you could say it was probably worth the trip.
Kicking off with the markedly Graveyardian “Hangtime,” Mooch ultimately aren’t content to dwell solely in a heavy-blues-boogie sphere on Visions, their third LP and quick follow-up to 2023’s Hounds. Bluesy as the vibe is from which the Montreal trio set out, the subsequent “Morning Prayer” meanders through wah-strum open spaces early onto to delve into jangly classic-prog strum later, while “Intention” backs its drawling vocal melody with nylon-stringed acoustic guitar and hand percussion. Divergence continues to be the order of the day throughout the 41-minute eight-songer, with “New Door” shifting from its sleepy initial movement into an even quieter stretch of Doors-meets-Stones-y melody before the bass leads into its livelier solo section with just a tinge of Latin rhythm and “Together” giving more push behind a feel harkening back to the opener but that grows quiet and melodically expansive in its second half. This sets up the moodier vibe of “Vision” and gives the roll of “You Wouldn’t Know” an effective backdrop for its acoustic/electric blend and harmonized vocals, delivered patiently enough to let the lap steel slide into the arrangement easily before the brighter-toned “Reflections” caps with a tinge of modern heavy post-rock. What’s tying it together? Something intangible. Momentum. Flow. Maybe just the confidence to do it? I don’t know, but as subdued as they get, they never lose their momentum, and as much movement as their is, they never seem to lose their balance. Visions might not reveal its full scope the first time through, but subsequent listens bring due reward.
The narrative — blessings and peace upon it — has it that guitarist/vocalist Bobby Spender recruited bassist Loz Fancourt and drummer Harry Flowers after The Pleasure Dome‘s prior rhythm section left, ahead of putting together the varied 16 minutes of the Liminal Space EP. For what it’s worth, the revamped Bristol, UK, trio don’t sound any more haphazard than they want to in the loose-swinging sections of “Shoulder to Cry On” that offset the fuller shove of the chorus, or the punk-rooted alt-rock brashness of “The Duke Part II (Friends & Enemies),” and the blastbeat-inclusive tension of “Your Fucking Smile” that precedes the folk-blues finger-plucking of “Sugar.” Disjointed? Kind of, but that also feels like the point. Closer “Suicide” works around acoustic guitar and feels sincere in the lines, “Suicide, suicide/I’ve been there before/I’ve been there before/On your own/So hold on,” and the profession of love that resolves it, and while that’s at some remove from the bitter spirit of the first two post-intro tracks, Liminal Space makes its own kind of sense with the sans-effects voice of Spender at its core.
A solid four-songer from Birmingham’s Slump, who are fronted by guitarist Matt Noble (also Alunah), with drummer David Kabbouri Lara and bassist Ben Myles backing the riff-led material with punch in “Buried” after the careening hook of “Dust” opens with classic scorch in its solo and before the slower and more sludged “Kneel” gets down to its own screamier business and “Vultures” rounds out with a midtempo stomp early but nods to what seems like it’s going to be a more morose finish until the drum solo takes off toward the big-crash finish. As was the case on Slump‘s 2023 split with At War With the Sun, the feel across Dust is that of a nascent band — Slump got together in 2018, but this is their most substantial standalone release to-date — figuring out what they want to do. The ideas are there, and the volatility at which “Kneel” hints will hopefully continue to serve them well as they explore spaces between metal and heavy rock, classic and modern styles. A progression underway toward any number of potential avenues.
What dwells in Green Hog Band‘s Fuzz Realm? If you said “fuzz,” go ahead and get yourself a cookie (the judges also would’ve accepted “riffs” and “heavy vibes, dude”), but for those unfamiliar with the New Yorker trio’s methodology, there’s more to it than tone as guitarist/producer Mike Vivisector, bassist/vocalist Ivan Antipov and drummer Ronan Berry continue to carve out their niche of lo-fi stoner buzz marked by harsh, gurgly vocals in the vein of Attila Csihar, various samples, organ sounds and dug-in fuckall. “Escape on the Wheels” swings and chugs instrumentally, and “In the Mist of the Bong” has lyrics in English, so there’s no lack of variety despite the overarching pervasiveness of misanthropy. That mood is further cast in the closing salvo of the low-slung “Morning Dew” and left-open “Phantom,” both of which are instrumental save for some spoken lines in the latter, as the prevailing sense is that they were going to maybe put some verses on there but decided screw it and went back to their cave (presumably somewhere in Queens) instead, because up yours anyhow. 46 minutes of crust-stoned “up yours anyhow,” then.
The earliest hours of 2024 found Japanese heavy psych heads Blasting Rod traveling from their hometown of Nagoya to make their North American live debut on Jan. 6 in Los Angeles. I don’t know how long the trip ultimately was, but I’m assuming that the recordings for their new album — the forthcoming Mojave Green out June 21 on Low&Slow.Disk — were done as part of the same flyover, with Dan Joeright (Yawning Man, Big Scenic Nowhere, the Live in the Mojave Desertseries, etc.) at the helm in Gatos Trail Studio. At very least, if that were the case it would save the cost/hassle of traveling back.
Blasting Rod will celebrate and feature the release at Tokyo Doom Fest on May 11, playing alongside Hebi Katana, a solo set by Okazaki Yukito of the esteemed Eternal Elysium and others, and Mojave Green follows 2022’s Of Wild Hazel (review here) with suitably desert-hued vibing, its almost-10-minute title-track (edited for the video at the bottom of this post) veering between loose, hypnotic jamming and fuzzier, riffier push, as opener “YEA 24M (Cosmic Bash)” resolves with Sabbathian groove before the cymbal-wash finish, “Bowl of Shala” brings a more meditative aspect and “Grandon the Stone Cutter (OG Version)” closes with a funky groove led by the guitar that feels specifically in conversation with Brant Bjork.
Is it then desert rock homage made in the desert? There’s definitely that side to it, but Blasting Rod dig further into experimental noisemaking in the extended “Yao Tsu (Infinity Landing)” and are not so single-minded and are more immersive than such a supposition might imply. Perhaps homage in the sense of taking past ideas and reshaping them to suit their own exploratory purposes.
Info follows, video’s at the bottom. Deep breath before you dive in:
BLASTING ROD – ‘Mojave Green’
Releases June 21, 2024, on Low&Slow.Disk cassette tape, CD, and a limited edition of 100 on black Japanese audiophile vinyl at fine independent record dealers near you in Europe, from Dutch-based Shiny Beast mail-order, via the Blasting Rod Bandcamp site from Japan and the US, and streaming worldwide on every digital platform known to man. Some editions will include hand-printed blacklight artwork.
Recorded by Daniel Joeright at Gatos Trail Studio, Yucca Valley, California Assisted by Aaron Farinelli Mixed and Mastered by S. Shah at The Nest, Nagoya, Japan Vinyl and other editions mastered by Dave Polster at Well Made Music
‘Mojave Green’ tracklisting 1. YEA 24M (Cosmic Bash) 05:13 2. Yao Tsu (Infinity Landing) 16:24 3. Mojave Green 09:54 4. Bowl of Shala 06:05 5. Grandon the Stone Cutter (OG ver.) 07:33
S. Shah also played guitar, made other funny noises, visual art and additional recordings, conjured riffs, and scribbled words and voiced them.
Chihiro played drums and other percussion, and generally called the shots as executive producer.
Yoshihiro Yasui played whatever he wanted on bass guitar, and inspired with cause for pause.
Special thanks to Yukito Okazaki at Studio Zen, Japan・Zoe Joeright・Buddy Donner・Tom Frankot・and most importantly to our intrepid road manager, Nancy Bukowski
Video Director: Chihiro Second Unit: Yohei Yamamoto
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 13th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Something you might not get to see every day here in heavy psych rockers Blasting Rod making the voyage from their home in Nagoya, Japan, to play their first show on North American soil this coming Jan. 6. The gig is set for the Redwood Bar & Grill, and the band will be joined by Vie Jester and Power Falcon on what’s sure to be a lifetime memory for Blasting Rod.
Understand, this isn’t a tour. They’re crossing the Pacific Ocean to play a show in the US and proffer their weirdo lysergic experimentalism in a context entirely new. Will they ever come back? Who knows. But if you’re in Los Angeles or someplace adjacent, this is one to consider if you like being part of once-in-a-lifetime experiences. The ostensible occasion is the anniversary of their 2022 album, Of Wild Hazel (review here), but come on. This one is its own excuse for being.
Get there if you can get there. And it’s $10 at the door!
To wit:
Break those New Year’s resolutions Saturday, Jan. 6 at Redwood Bar & Grill in downtown Los Angeles when Blasting Rod makes its one and (so far) only North American live appearance.
In Fuzz We Trust presents Blasting Rod, Vie Jester, and Power Falcon.
Escape to L.A. with Blasting Rod at Redwood Bar & Grill on January 6 for the 1st anniversary of the North American LP release, Of Wild Hazel.
8pm Showtime $10 Cover at the door https://theredwoodbar.com 316 W. 2nd St. Los Angeles CA (213) 680-2600 Open 11am – 2am
Ain’t nuthin’ but a party, y’all!
Come hang with Blasting Rod at a chill bar with food and seating.
Blasting Rod is a get weird—stay weird tight but loose 3-piece based in Nagoya, Japan playing fuzzy grooves and slippery psychedelia.
Las ranuras borrosas y la psicodelia resbaladiza te transportarán a unas vacaciones para desconectarte de todo por un tiempo.
Posted in Reviews on September 12th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Some context required. The common thread between Tomoyuki Trio and Modoki, who are also a trio but apparently didn’t want to advertise, is guitarist Mike Vest and drummer Dave Sneddon. Based in the UK, Vest also mixes here and might be recognized from any number of mostly experimentalist doom-drone and cosmic projects/collaborations, including BONG, Blown Out, Artifacts and Uranium, Drunk in Hell, Ozo, 11Paranoias, etc. (an offering from his Kaliyuga Express project was just announced for October), while Sneddon, in addition to running Flat Earth Records, has played in various punk bands going back to the early 1980s, including Blood Robots, Generic, Boxed In, and the Vest-inclusive collab Mienakunaru for their first two albums.
The go-anywhere lysergic off-the-cuffism of Mienakunaru is a decent place to start understanding Tomoyuki Trio‘s five-song/39-minute debut, Mars and Modoki‘s concurrently-issued eight-song/36-minute second album, Luna to Phobos, but Vest and Sneddon are not the only common elements. Both are released through Riot Season Records (on the same day, no less), both were mastered by John McBain, and both are remote collaborations with Japanese psych guitarists, Modoki featuring Mitsuru Tabata (Zeni Geva and Acid Mothers Temple, among others), and Tomoyuki Trio taking its name from Up-Tight guitarist Tomoyuki Aoki, who also contributes the only vocals to Mars on 15-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “Voiceless Cry” and who in the gamma-radiation guitar howl in “Metagalactic” freely demonstrates what happens when you arrive after setting controls for the heart of the sun. You incinerate.
With Vest and Sneddon recording in the UK and Tomoyuki in Japan, Mars was clearly built remotely, but that does nothing to hinder its sense of reach. “Voiceless Cry” even dares some vocals as it oozes and churns through its first half, and the wailing solos on guitar set up the more forward riff of “Transcendentem,” which becomes the bed for another lead as the instrumental procession unfolds. There are hints of space and garage and both come into further bloom on “Metagalactic,” but it’s an unimaginably big infinity out there and even between here and Mars there’s plenty to explore, so Vest, Tomoyuki and Sneddon set themselves to that task. “Universum” slows the movement and (while we’re touring the solar system) is like an ice volcano on the moon Enceladus in its somehow molten, definitely frozen lurch, or maybe, on Mars, like staring down into the Valles Marineris, or looking up from the foot of Olympus Mons. Large, stark and otherworldly. By its last minute-plus, it is noise, and that feels appropriate.
Mars capper “Aether” seems to pick up from similar noise but it’s not a direct bleed. Still, the feeling of diving back in from whence one just came is palpable, and the 3:26 of “Aether” is a dark trip-out. After about a minute, it happens into a solo section that reminds of Earthless if they were into ’60s jazz instead of ’70s rock, and the wash of noise returns on the other side to give Mars the avant garde finish it deserves. “Aether” is about half again as short as the next shortest track, so it’s an outlier on Mars, but Luna to Phobos, with Sneddon, Vest and Mitsuru Tabata operating as Modoki, is shorter on the per-piece average.
Part of that might be the effect of having an album already to their credit and being more solidified in their approach, but the two records were reportedly made at more or less the same time, and calling anything on Modoki‘s sophomore LP solid seems like a bit of a misnomer, since although Earth’s moon and Phobos — which alongside Deimos is one of Mars’ two natural satellites, probably captured from the asteroid belt however many millions or billions of years ago — are both rocky formations, there’s an awful lot in opener “Sick Starliner,” “Mud River,” “Those Disruptors” and the half-speed-Hawkwindian volume surge of the title-track that feels more like subsurface magma heating, melting and cooling, turning rock to liquid and liquid to rock in a convective exchange that creates new compounds and conglomerates — the stuff of stirring planets. A raw, organic, contained violence.
One that grows broad in “Non Telepaths” amid piercing synth noise, casts early psych in its own image in “Multiplied From the Old Days,” and lumbers through weirdo noisemaking in “Benefit of Control” before the eight-minute closer/longest track “Zenith” takes airy float and lets it (d)evolve into a careening charge marked by rising synthesizer and the kind of gravity that leads to total dug-in-itude and a dizzying dreaminess. They do eventually reach what would seem to be the titular zenith, and just past eight minutes in, they seem to let the song go to end it, having arrived at their mark and seemingly accomplished what they set out to do in getting there. Modoki‘s cuts feel more structured, but that might honestly be because they’re shorter than Tomoyuki Trio‘s, but putting the two albums next to each other reveals fascinating differences of personality between them, highlighting the character at play in the respective performances of Tomoyuki and Mitsuru.
It should probably go without saying that something shared between Luna to Phobos and Mars is their extremity. Whether you’re listening to them both together, each on its own, whatever, Tomoyuki Trio and Modoki are both putting a challenge before the listener and before conventional craft. At the most basic level, yeah, this is rock music — guitar, bass, drums, synth, keys, occasional vocals, etc. — but it’s been deconstructed and repurposed to suit these expansive, on-their-own-wavelength ends. It is not accessible or overly friendly. At moments either of these collections can be downright harsh, but both resonate with intention.
I won’t claim to know how Mars or Luna to Phobos was pieced together, but whatever that process was, the parties involved — that’s Vest/Sneddon and Mitsuru and the same pair and Tomoyuki — have found a means to convey a whole-group dynamic and, more impressively, embarked on developing a chemistry without being in the same room. That Modoki and Tomoyuki Trio both gel as well as they do is a credit to the open nature of the creative impulses launching them.
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 4th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Church of Misery‘s current lineup — if there is one — is the stuff fire-emoji splurges are made of. I saw them less than a month ago at SonicBlast in Portugal (review here), so no, I’m not just basing that assessment on the record. Though, if I were, the work of Japanese doom rock legend, bassist and auteur Tatsu Mikami in riffcraft there would probably be enough for the statement to stand. The very definition of ‘on fire,’ or perhaps it would be more thematically appropriate to describe them as: killer.
Guitarist Fumiya Hattori, also in Tatsu‘s Sonic Flower side-project and visibly the youngest member of Church of Misery, is a huge part of why. I’ll allow that having Tatsu‘s riffs to work from is for sure a leg-up in that, but the character in his solos and what he brings to the material in his style, sitting right in the pocket on those Sabbath-worship grooves, new and old — that is, not only on Born Under a Mad Sign(review here), which is his first appearance with the band — is not to be understated.
He’s a special player, not the least because he’ll continue to grow. And yeah, Church of Misery run through personnel on the regular — even in in the post making it official with Fumiya, Tatsu notes they’re looking for singers and drummers — so it may or may not be forever, but hopefully his will be a career to follow. A player like that will always find someone in need of their services.
Here’s that post from Tatsu:
Fumiya Hattori (Sonic Flower) has joined Church of Misery as a guitarist.
After Sonic Flower’s new recording and Church of Misery’s two European tours, Fumiya Hattori (Gt.) has become an official member of Church of Misery.
<<< Vocalist, drummer wanted >>>
Vocalist and drummer are active with the cooperation of support members, so we are still looking for vocalists and drummers.
Those who have an understanding of this kind of music and can lead a life centered around a band, including overseas tours. Practice in the city. Cannot be shared with other bands. The drummer is male or female. It doesn’t matter whether you recommend yourself or others.
If you are interested, please contact the Gmail posted on the website.
It’s taken Church of Misery seven years to release Born Under a Mad Sign, their seventh album, and it has seven tracks, so perhaps mad signs abound on the seminal Japanese doom rockers’ latest LP for Rise Above Records. The band, led as ever by bassist Tatsu Mikami — who belongs in the conversation with the likes of Matt Pike and Leif Edling when it comes to Iommic inheritors — will cross the 30-year mark on the back of this 54-minute onslaught, which remains true to their modus of writing songs about serial killers and other cult figures.
In the past it’s been Ted Bundy and Aileen Wuornos coupled with a Cactus cover — that was 2004’s The Second Coming, by the way — here it’s Fritz Haarmann (as seen on the cover), H.H. Holmes and Haystacks Balboa‘s “Spoiler” being covered, so perhaps over time Tatsu has had to dig a little past the obvious in terms of people to write about and bands to cover, even if the essential formula remains consistent. The same could be said of the riffs, and make no mistake, the riffs are central both on Born Under a Mad Sign and throughout Church of Misery‘s catalog. While there’s plenty of the up-front Black Sabbath sludge boogie for which Church of Misery are so widely and so correctly lauded, Born Under a Mad Sign also stretches out in terms of jams and solos in a way that the band’s most recent album, 2016’s recorded-in-America And Then There Were None (review here) was less interested in doing.
Not particularly surprising since, Tatsu aside, the band is working with a completely different lineup. This too is part of how Church of Misery operate, with members coming and going over a course of decades and serving pretty much at Tatsu‘s say-so until the don’t. This collection brings back vocalist Kazuhiro Asaeda, who sang on Church of Misery‘s 2003 split with Acrimony, the recorded-in-1996-released-in-2007 Vol. 1 (reissue review here), and who featured on the 2022 offering Me and My Bell Bottom Blues (review here) from Tatsu‘s Sonic Flower side-project last year.
Kazuhiro is a big piece of what makes Born Under a Mad Sign work so well. To hear his guttural squeal amid the roll of closer “Butcher Baker (Robert Hansen),” like if Satan decided to stop teaching guitar and just play and sing the blues himself, or his rasps from under the lumbering tonal chaos of centerpiece “Murder Castle Blues (H.H. Holmes),” he is as organic a fit in terms of personality as Tatsu‘s lyrics have ever had, and in listening, I find I’m perfectly happy to not know the words save for picking up a few things here and there, as on the opener “Beltway Sniper (John Allen Muhammad),” which in addition to being one of the album’s upper-tier ass-kickers is interesting for crossing a line between someone who’s a serial killer and a mass murder. The difference, as I understand it, is serial killers go one at a time. Does this mean Church of Misery would write songs about mass shooters? And what response would they get to, say, a song about Columbine, or Sandy Hook, or Uvalde? Is that a line they would cross? Is there a line they wouldn’t?
One’s own sensibilities and interests will invariably inform opinions on what’s discussed and how throughout this or any other Church of Misery work, and it seems silly to feign moral pearl-clutching for something they’ve been doing almost since their start, but the chance the band take in exploring more modern murder in its various forms, particularly at the level they’re doing it, is that someone from outside the underground in which they reside will notice and call them out on the generally horrific nature of their themes. I’m not saying that will happen with Born Under a Mad Sign, though it could since people are still alive who remember David Koresh or the Beltway Sniper, but Church of Misery have trod this ground before and gotten away with it so there’s nothing to say they can’t again. All I’m saying is with riffs this good, they run the risk of being heard.
Even more endemic to the personality of the record is the guitar work of Yukito Okazaki, whose bluesy pulls in the second-half solo of “Beltway Sniper (John Allen Muhammad)” and the density of the subsequent chug set a high standard that the songs that follow thankfully meet. With Toshiaki Umemura on drums, a(nother) new incarnation of Church of Misery is complete, and they sound extra vicious in so much of Born Under a Mad Sign, whether it’s the make-a-nasty-face nod of “Most Evil (Fritz Haarmann)” or the wah-complemented shove and shout of “Freeway Madness Boogie (Randy Kraft),” the groove loose and the danger of coming apart high as the band nonetheless hold it together as of course they would.
“Most Evil (Fritz Haarmann)” tops 10 minutes and “Freeway Madness Boogie (Randy Kraft)” is one of the shorter cuts on the 2LP at 6:16 — the shortest is “Spoiler,” the aforementioned Haystacks Balboa cover — but both are unabashed riff-fests, and the same holds true throughout. Church of Misery know who they are, what they want to be, and how they want to sound, and Tatsu, as the perceived auteur of that, could fairly be called a visionary. Listening through the swelling roll in the verse of “Murder Castle Blues (H.H. Holmes),” or the way in which “Come and Get Me Sucker (David Koresh)” picks up from the sample of its titular cult leader opining to this or that news organization about Americans arming themselves as a political position to unveil the full threat of its bassline and riff before the blowout verse actually takes hold ahead of the made-for-the-stage shout-along chorus delivering the title line, Tatsu‘s vision comes through clearly.
This is the underlying message of Born Under a Mad Sign, and of Church of Misery circa 2023 more broadly — that the group in whatever form it takes is beholden to Tatsu‘s will, and steered by his direction and whims. They end with “Butcher Baker (Robert Hansen)” and wah-drench the middle before going back to the verse and chorus before jamming out, but even as madcap as the song gets, Kazuhiro comes back on for a final verse to end out, because whatever else Church of Misery are, whoever else they are, as they approach the 30th year of their tenure, they are songwriters. Tatsu is a songwriter. They just make it sound like they’re completely out of control, and the methodical, almost ritualized nature of what they do is perhaps an even greater tie to their subject matter. They are masters of what they do. Wherever you sit on the scale of interest in serial killers or murder more generally, their mastery on display is something to appreciate.
Japanese psychedelic rockers Tō Yō will release their debut album, Stray Birds From the Far East, on Aug. 18 through King Volume Records and Kozmik Artifactz. With depth of arrangement enough to allow for the various effects and hand percussion, shifting moods coming and going, as well as funky grooves and broadened sometimes folkish vocal melodies from guitarist Masami Makino, the six-song/30-minute offering brings forth a vibrant, movement-ready psychedelia that’s not shy about freaking out in the wah-soaked, let’s-bang-on-stuff ending of “Tears of the Sun” or the thicker fuzz of the subsequent “Titania Skyline,” but the band introduce themselves gently if quickly on opener “Soaring,” as if in the first 45 seconds or so, they’re looking around at reality and saying, “Okay, we tried that, now let’s move on to this,” and citing the drift/strum guitars of Masami and Sebun Tanji, Issaku Vincent‘s boogie bass and Hibiki Amano‘s drumming and percussion as an alternate, perhaps preferable path to follow. The argument made is convincing.
Its personality is complex enough to be more than one thing even sometimes at once, but Stray Birds From the Far East never quite lets go of its abidingly mellow spirit, which even as “Soaring” moves into start-stop jangle near its finish, percussion going all-in underneath, holds steady. Funk is at the forefront on “Hyu Dororo,” which goes dream-tone in its bridge but returns to the verse, and side A’s capper “Twin Mountains” melts vintage heavy rock and psychedelia together so that the snare and hand-drum meet up on the beat as the howling guitar solo floats ahead before the second verse starts up in the same stratosphere. At 3:41, the song is short — the shortest on the LP, but not by a ton — but even in that more clear structure, the feel Tō Yō present is organic, prone to subtlety and given to a kind of communion with its own making.
One often thinks of the phrase ‘locked in’ as a way to convey a band effectively communicating with each other musically, perhaps to the exclusion of the outside world. The rhythm and melody and interplay of instruments becomes the thing. Tō Yō are locked in on Stray Birds From the Far East, but far from keeping listeners on the other side of the door, the warmth of their tones and sometimes soft vocals and the feeling of motion in the low end and percussion give an unmistakable feeling of welcome to the entire proceedings.
They might be locked in, but that doesn’t mean you’re not invited too. Talking about “Soaring” below, they call it danceable, which is true of much of the record thanks to the interplay of various rhythms, and as “Tears of the Sun” moves deeper into its second half, the build in intensity is resonant enough to feel in your blood, even if as much as I agree with the physical urgency there, I wouldn’t call the leadoff or anything that follows ‘primitive’ in either its construction or the end-product of the arrangements themselves, though there are certainly aspects of traditional Japanese folk music, as well as some hints of Mediterranean traditionalism and/or Afrobeat — one hates to use a phrase like ‘world music’ — to go along with a wash that might be familiar to those who’ve previously dived into the work of outfits like Dhidalah or others from the Guruguru Brain Records-fostered, deeply-adventurous current generation of J-psych.
“Titania Skyline” is positioned ahead of closer “Li Ma Li” and starts its verse early to reground after “Tears of the Sun” left off with such a noiseblast. Backing vocals, a steady, jazzy snare and noodly rhythmic figure on guitar below the lead provide ample groove as a foundation, and after dropping a quick hint of Captain Beyond‘s “Mesmerization Eclipse,” they embark at 2:45 into a follow-up raucous jam to reinforce that of “Tears of the Sun” prior, never losing the underlying progression until it drops to a quick bite of feedback as preface to “Li Ma Li,” which begins with swirl behind a mellow-funk nod, spaces out the vocals engagingly and adds what sounds like organ or other synth that bolsters the classic vibe in a manner righteous and well-placed. The vocals reside in a kind of sub-falsetto upper register, and the shift is fascinating.
The song will solidify near the end — relatively speaking — around a steady riff and a bit of low-key scorch, but the proceedings are friendly regardless, and that initial gentle sensibility from “Soaring” is a further unifier of the material that enters Tō Yō into the vibrant fray of the Japanese psychedelic underground, showing them as willing to explore new ideas even as they bask in decades’ worth of lysergic aural influence. Subdued but not lazy, Stray Birds From the Far East finds its balance in fluidity and feels like the breakthrough point of a seed that will continue to flower over future outings. One hopes for precisely that.
You can stream “Soaring” on the player below, followed by some comment from Tō Yō and info from the PR wire.
Please enjoy:
Tō Yō, “Soaring” track premiere
Tō Yō on “Soaring”:
This track anticipates the beginning of the journey and is a good entry point into our world. The lyrics are spiritual, in that the land of the unseen is always inside of you. Imagine flying somewhere far away and returning home as completely synonymous.
The beat is very danceable, maybe not rock-like in a sense, but considering the connection between the slow tempo parts, this was the best way to create the most beautiful transitions. It’s obvious how many instruments are used to create the beat, but that’s not what we intended, in a way, the melody is almost entirely left to the vocals, which calls to mind a primitive form of musical expression. I think this primal juxtaposition helps induce a sense of spirituality.
Most of the tracks were created from jamming, and we thought about what percussion would be great for the track while recording, which is our style. Most of the percussion was improvised by our crazy drummer Hibiki.
Tō Yō, the Tokyo-based psychedelic quartet, has announced their debut record Stray Birds From the Far East—a dreamy, pop-infused psych/acid rock concept album about nostalgia for a place yet to be discovered—to be released through King Volume Records on August 18, 2023.
The Tō Yō sound is simultaneously unique yet familiar—but it’s also moving. “Our psychedelic sound is at times violent and at times naïve,” says vocalist and guitarist Masami Makinom, “but we also believe our sound is meant to awaken the most primitive senses in order to sublimate the rise of the soul and its uncontrollable impulses.”
Tō Yō is an ambitious band with an ambitious vision, so it’s no surprise some of their biggest influences are known for complex, groundbreaking visions; Far East Family Band, J. A. Seazer, Flower Travellin’ Band, Kikagaku Moyo, YU Grupa, Ali Farka Touré, Jimi Hendrix, Led Zeppelin, and Red Hot Chili Peppers all show up in the list of the band’s most important influences.
As a self-described jam band, hashing out Tō Yō’s songs in the studio was a necessity, but it also proved to be a strategic benefit, as working with engineer Yui Kimijima at Tsubame Studio (the mecca for today’s Japanese psychedelic rock) in Tokyo helped the band take their sound to the next level.
“He is not sparing in his experimentation,” says Makinom. “In fact, the studio has a wonderful atmosphere that inspires the imagination, with instruments that we have never touched, and things that were originally used for other purposes but can function as instruments. For example, in ‘Tears of the Sun,’ the glittering steel popping sound in the second half is actually the sound of a tarai—a tin tub.”
With Tō Yō, the band embarks on an ambitious journey of experimentation and musical risks, but this has led to a colorful and often unpredictable sonic tapestry that embodies their myriad influences while combining with the heroics of indie darlings Built to Spill, the shimmering charm of My Morning Jacket, the carefree spirit of surf rock, and the wild, swirling sounds of the psychedelic giants of the 1970s.
Recording: Yui Kimijima at Tsubame Studio in Asakusabashi, Tokyo Mastering: Yui Kimijima at Tsubame Studio in Asakusabashi, Tokyo Art: Todd Ryan White
Tracklisting: Side A: 1. Soaring 2. Hyu Dororo 3. Twin Mountains Side B: 4. Tears of the Sun 5. Titania Skyline 6. Li Ma Li