Posted in Whathaveyou on February 27th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
I consider myself exceedingly fortunate to have been able to see Kombynat Robotron at Freak Valley Festival (review here) last June, so a live album recorded about a month before I had that pleasure is an enticing prospect. Live at Fuzz Club Festival 2025 will be out April 17, indeed through Fuzz Club Records which also released the Kiel, Germany, trio’s first song-based (as opposed to jam-based, although the songs were jam-based; you know what I’m just gonna keep going) LP, the stellar-and-I-do-mean-that-in-the-burning-plasma-sense AANK (review here). Hearing the live version of “Staub” streaming at the bottom of the post only reaffirms the excitement.
The following came from the PR wire, but only because I signed up for their Bandcamp email list. You might consider giving a follow, if that’s your thing.
Dig it:
KOMBYNAT ROBOTRON – Live At Fuzz Club Festival ’25 – April 17
Kombynat Robotron’s set at the 2025 Fuzz Club Festival is being immortalised on wax with this super-limited live album release. The Kiel, Germany-based trio delivered a late-night assault of feedback-blasted kraut-punk and expansive psychedelic space-rock. Kombynat Robotron’s appearance at the festival landed just ahead of the release of their 2025 studio album and Fuzz Club debut ‘AANK’ and was the first glimpse of what was in store, pulling heavily from ‘AANK’ album tracks (‘Ikarus’, Staub’, ‘Sauerstoff’, ‘Finsternis’, ‘Schnee’) plus two cuts from their 2024 ‘West Mata’ LP (‘Jason II’, ‘Vasa’)
The resulting ‘Live At Fuzz Club Festival 2025’ album was recorded straight from the sound desk and mixed and mastered for this release by Bob De Wit, with artwork by Olya Dyer incorporating Innerstrings and Dwavehed’s stage visuals. The vinyl release is limited to /250 hand-numbered copies.
Tracklisting: 1. Ikarus 2. Staub 3. Vasa 4. Jason II 5. Sauerstoff 6. Schnee 7. Finsternis
KOMBYNAT ROBOTRON – OHNE LICHT – Tour April 2026 15.04. – DE – Jena, KuBa 16.04. – CH – Basel, Quarterdeck 17.04. – FR – Marseille, L’Intermédiaire 19.04. – FR – Arthez de Bearn, Le Pingouin Alternatif 22.04. – FR – Rouen, Le 3 Pièces 23.04. – FR – Paris, Le Chinois 25.04. – BE – Diest, Trekstaal 28.04. – DE – Leipzig, Moritzbastei 29.04. – DE – Berlin, Neue Zukunft 30.04. – DE – Hamburg, Elbdeich Studio 01.05. – DE – Lübeck, Maifest 02.05. – NL – Eindhoven, FuzzClub Festival presented by pøjpøj and FUZZ CLUB RECORDS!
Posted in Whathaveyou on January 29th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
German space noisemakers Kombynat Robotron will take to the road in April as they continue to support their 2025 album, AANK (review here), that saw them streamline their songwriting process for their most direct batch of material to-date. The festival around which they’re building the run — and increasingly this is how independent tours happen; around festivals, or at least one as is the case here — is that of their label, Fuzz Club Records which will be held at The Effenaar in Eindhoven, which at least the last time I was there was a rad spot indeed.
So much the better for Kombynat Robotron, with according radness. I was lucky enough to see the trio at last year’s Freak Valley Festival (review here) in Germany, and that was a blast even before I’d dug into the record for review. If they’re not coming where you are now, keep an eye out, as the band were also in the first batch of confirmations for Keep it Low in Munich this coming October. I wouldn’t in the slightest be surprised if another tour was in the works for that time. New album? Well, with a band so unpredictable I wouldn’t hazard a guess, but maybe.
If you make it out, enjoy:
KOMBYNAT ROBOTRON – OHNE LICHT – Tour April 2026!
15.04. – DE – Jena, KuBa 16.04. – CH – Basel, Quarterdeck 17.04. – FR – Marseille, L’Intermédiaire 19.04. – FR – Arthez de Bearn, Le Pingouin Alternatif 22.04. – FR – Rouen, Le 3 Pièces 23.04. – FR – Paris, Le Chinois 25.04. – BE – Diest, Trekstaal 28.04. – DE – Leipzig, Moritzbastei 29.04. – DE – Berlin, Neue Zukunft 30.04. – DE – Hamburg, Elbdeich Studio 01.05. – DE – Lübeck, Maifest 02.05. – NL – Eindhoven, FuzzClub Festival
Posted in Features on December 24th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
[PLEASE NOTE: These are not the results of the year-end poll, which ends in January. If you haven’t contributed your picks yet, please do so here.]
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Terrible year, good music. Not the first time that’s happened. Look anywhere in the world and there’s unrest to be found. I have started this paragraph three separate times now with some discussion of my country’s willful embrace of corporate, christian nationalist fascism, and each time have had to go back and restart, because by the time you’re done asking “what’s the point of anything?” you realize you don’t have an answer to that question. Better not to ask.
But in what has unquestionably been the dumbest 12 months I’ve lived through as regards the outside world has made a salve of human creativity, and as our techbro-warlord fiefdoms are laid out and generative AI is pushed in place of human artistry — the two could coexist, easily, just not in a world this stupid — making art whether it’s overtly political or not feels more like resistance against a cultural numbing out than it ever has in my 44 years.
We celebrate the human spirit, then, when we celebrate human creativity. The nonphysical part of ourselves and the connections we make across land, space and time through various forms of art and expression. I believe artificial intelligence can have a place in this world, I just wish I could convince it to empty the dishwasher.
Music holds us together. Or to be more honest, it holds me together. On these days where the horrors don’t seem to end, where cruelty and unkindness are held as virtues and care is seen as a weakness, where hateful rhetoric is held as common sense, where grown-ass men roll around in big-boy pickup trucks and wave silly flags like the spoiled five-year-olds they are mentally, where we kill each other for sport, being able to immerse, to put my head somewhere else, to get away from it for just a little while, has been a gift. It is difficult to believe there was ever an optimistic vision of the future in my country. In the face of rising isolationism and kleptocratic, anticonstitutional governmental improprieties, limitless corruption, endless drudging stupidity, I see no reason for one now beyond escapism.
So in these wretched times, love all you can love. Everyone and everything. Bathe yourself in it as much as you can. Hold onto what you can hold onto, because so much else is being ripped away. We live in fear and confusion and exhaustion, but clarity exists. I find it in art and in critical thinking. My hope for you is you find it however you are able.
Below is my list of the year’s best albums. It’s my list, and it has been put together using the same criteria I always use — personal taste and what I listened to most combined with what I think were important or otherwise notable outings — and as always, there were plenty of them. No, I didn’t hear everything, and I think if I ended this post now with “this was the year of Castle Rat,” that would also be a valid way to go, so whatever your opinions are of the year or the music that filled your life from one end of it to the other, please know that this is coming from my perspective, and that while I do my best to do as much as possible, I have neither time nor interest in covering all releases all the time.
Every year, I put this post up after working on it for a week or whatever and someone invariably goes, “meh what about WHOEVER list sux” and the entire endeavor feels like a waste. Never fails. It’s become part of the ritual. I ask you please keep comments civil and allow for the possibility of other perspectives and opinions. If we can’t do that as people sharing the same divergent subculture, then you and I are no better than the monsters outside the door. And we are better, I assure you.
Thanks for reading. Here we go.
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The Top 60 Albums of 2025
**NOTE**: If you’re looking for something specific, try a text search.
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60-31
60. Make Money From Home, Make Money From Home
59. Madmess, The Third Coming
58. Spawn, Light Rite
57. Lorquin’s Admiral, Lorquin’s Admiral
56. Pink Fuzz, Resolution
55. Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
54. Serial Hawk, Psychic Pain
53. C.ROSS, Future Site of C.ROSS
52. Ikitan, Shaping the Chaos
51. Papir, IX
50. Kryptograf, Kryptonomicon
49. Bronco, Bronco
48. The Gray Goo, Cabin Fever Dreams
47. Crop, S.S.R.I.
46. Caboose, Left for Dust
45. Nuclear Dudes, Skeletal Blasphemy
44. Cavern Deep, Part III – The Bodiless
43. Rainbows Are Free, Silver and Gold
42. Moon Destroys, She Walks by Moonlight
41. Abanamat, Abominat
40. Margarita Witch Cult, Strung Out in Hell
39. Kungens Män, Resande i Rockmusik
38. Naxatras, V
37. Atom Juice, Atom Juice
36. Castle Rat, The Bestiary
35. Florist, Adrift
34. Earthbong, Bring Your Lungs
33. River Cult, High Anxiety
32. Messa, The Spin
31. Borracho, Ouroboros
Notes:
You might notice two of the year’s biggest releases here between 31 and 40 in Messa and Castle Rat. I’m not sure underground heavy anything has two more crucial bands happening right now. Castle Rat’s main impact and obvious priority is their live presentation, and Messa I’ve always been kind of here or there on. But looking at the year-end poll results thus far, those are names people would be missing, so I wanted to point them out specifically. There was no getting away from either in 2025.
So much to go through here. A few excellent debuts in Atom Juice, Make Money From Home, Caboose, Bronco, Bloodsports, Lorquin’s Admiral, Ikitan, Moon Destroys and so on, while strong returns from the likes of Nuclear Dudes, Papir, Serial Hawk, Rainbows Are Free, the always-welcome Borracho, Naxatras and others provided fodder for immersion across a swath of sounds and intentions of craft. Florist blindsided me, which I appreciated, and River Cult remain wholly undervalued in my mind. Kryptograf and Cavern Deep continue to grow, and Abanamat’s second record was encouragingly proggy. I found solace in Papir and Spawn, and raw physical catharsis in the thrashing heavy cybergrind of Nuclear Dudes. And of course, groove abounds.
I say the same thing every year, but if someone turned these names into the year-end poll as a top 30, I wouldn’t argue. Whether hyped or not, rocking out, navelgazing or exploring the unknown, there is so much here waiting for people to take it on. I hope you’ll see something in the above you haven’t heard yet, listen, and love it.
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30. Black Moon Cult, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig)
More on this one below, but Black Moon Cult‘s awaited first album, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) was unquestionably a standout in the realm of heavy psychedelic rock, and set the Toledo, Ohio-based trio off on a course of exploration that could be shimmering and progressive or rife with terrestrial groove. And the vocals, not always, but sometimes, reminded me of Death if they were a stoner band crossed with Fu Manchu. Most of all, the vibe-heavy six-songer declared Black Moon Cult as one to watch going forward, and the heavy underground took note accordingly.
Inarguable riffing met with grunge overtones, an overarching heavygaze melodicism and increasingly tight songwriting, yes, Sub Rosa is a step along the way in the narrative of Daevar‘s forward growth, but it sure felt like a landmark in that process. A bit of Type O Negative in “Siren Song” and a bit more explosiveness there and throughout underscored the murky doom for which the German outfit are known, and the key influences are still there, Windhand, Monolord, and so on, but Daevar have been shaping their sound over the course of their albums to arrive at such a payoff.
Kaiser had acquitted themselves well on their 2022 Ripple-issued split with Sweden’s Captain Caravan (review here), so their second full-length arrived not quite as a surprise, but with some measure of anticipation behind it. That would turn out to be wholly justified by the eight-song offering from the Finnish heavy rockers, who aligned themselves with a classic Northern-European-style shove in pieces like “Meteorhead” with high concentrations of fuzz and blowouts to coincide. With pieces like “Oversized Load” and the upped heft of “A Clockwork Green,” this was a sleeper, but it’s the kind of record that creates loyalists and people will be recommending it to each other for years.
Of course, Crystal Spiders have an established powerhouse voice out front in Brenna Leath, but Metanoia brought into focus just how much this is Leath‘s band as the lone remaining founder in a three-piece, with newcomers guitarist Reid Rogers and drummer Aaron Willis. Fair enough. Even in a two-thirds new incarnation, Crystal Spiders came through pretty slick on their third full-length, with a confident, classic-doom swing, songs that remain unafraid to reach onto more ethereal ground, and a flow of melody that’s made them immediately identifiable among the hordes. Asking more would be asking too much.
The ongoing evolution of Northern Ireland’s Slomatics found the crush-prone trio expanding on their worldmaking atmospheres in unexpected ways, challenging what had become conventions in their sound over time while offering the guitar-only heft that’s become their calling card over the last two decades. While more cosmic in their float, they remained grounded in terms of songwriting, and were able to push themselves in ways they’ve never done before. It was enough to remind you why you like heavy music in the first place, and signature Slomatics while moving beyond their prior work, building as they always have on the past to carve out their own futuristic style and perspective. It was, in other words, a Slomatics record.
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25. Dead Shrine, Cydonia Mensa
Released by Astral Projection and Kozmik Artifactz. Reviewed April 24.
As a fan of his various incarnations, I’m not sure it’d feel like a year if there wasn’t something new from Hamilton, New Zealand’s Craig Williamson. Whether it’s the more rocking solo-project Dead Shrine or the long-running acid folk outfit Lamp of the Universe or some other collaboration, etc., his craft is both distinctive and malleable, and the rumble in songs like “The Sacred Light” and the chuggy, hooky “Redeemer” is his all the way, even as it and the psychedelia that surrounds embarked on new ground for outward-facing tonal weight in Williamson‘s work, tying seemingly disparate sides together in ways that felt fresh, and most importantly, Williamson‘s own. I’ve been listening to Williamson for over 20 years and I have no idea where he’s headed. That’s part of the appeal. And fresh as it was, the take throughout Cydonia Mensa still carried a classic feel.
Apart from the obvious consideration of plague, I’m not sure what was behind the seven-year space between 2018’s Helltown (review here) and their first outing for Heavy Psych Sounds and fourth album overall, EC4, but if they were taking their time, the songs bear that out. “Static Vision” hit perfectly as a catchy single, while the more ethereal “Moss” and the sweeping “Other Planets” took the Ohio band to new places in sound. They’ve always been about craft and performance, and those remain key aspects of what they do, but nuance in the production and an eye kept fixated on the outside-genre leant depth to the material, and Electric Citizen basked in it. The band remain somewhat undervalued in my mind; EC4 is another example of why.
There’s very little mystery to Kal-El. There doesn’t need to be. They have the songs and can come right at you with them. No need to sneak around or pull some tricks. Hit play. “Here’s a riff. It’s a hook. It’s in your head. Here’s the next one.” Repeat for further righteousness. And don’t go walking around thinking I mean straightforward as a code word for boring. That’s not what’s happening here. The point is that with no shortage of big sound, big reach, big riffs and melodies, Astral Voyager Vol. 1 put into emphasis just how satisfyingly direct Kal-El can be. And though it’s a story only half told with a Vol. 2 presumably due in 2026, grooves like “Dilithium” (of course I’m in for a Star Trek reference) and the nine-and-a-half-minute “Astral Voyager,” Kal-El‘s latest held purpose in its every turn and expanse, and, well, they’re the kind of band you can rely on not to start sucking now, so yes, the next one is a thing to look forward to.
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22. Khan, That Fair and Warlike Form/Return to Dust
Two sidelong epics from Melbourne, Australia, trio Khan, “That Fair and Warlike Form” (23:11) and “Return to Dust” (22:53), were about as vivid as progressive heavy psychedelia got in 2025. Each piece worked in stages and had its own ebbs and flows such that it’ll probably be a while yet before it’s all fully digested, but no question it was a step forward for Khan, whose 2023 LP, Creatures, had sent them to tour in Europe multiple times over. The same wheels are already turning for this album, and despite the longform material, Khan have continued to grow their audience. I don’t know where they go from here — single song album? step back to shorter forms? something in between? — but That Fair and Warlike Form/Return to Dust conveyed its intent in every moment of crush and every fluid twist or expansive dive, and without giving up their tonal impact, Khan found new paths into aural breadth.
For those who caught onto Maha Sohona‘s 2021 sophomore outing, Endless Searcher (review here), A Dark Place was something to anticipate as representing the next phase from a new voice in heavy psych rock. A Dark Place was as-advertised in being moodier than its predecessor, but all the more cohesive for that. With a meditative crux that came through regardless of a given part’s volume, the Swedish three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Johan Bernhardtson, bassist Thomas Hedlund and drummer Erik Andersson were able to both subvert and surpass expectations, revealing a richness to their process that went beyond the marriage of jams and heavier nod. Their best work may still be ahead of them, but pieces like “Ostera” and “Visions” confirmed their progression in craft and atmosphere.
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20. Grayceon, Then the Darkness
Released by We Can Records and Translation Loss. Reviewed July 24.
From environmental devastation, violence against women, the sundry hypocrisies inherent in raising a family in our world and mysterious lights in the sky perhaps from beyond, one would not accuse Grayceon‘s sixth album, released on the occasion of the band’s 20th anniversary, of taking it easy. A vast and sometimes challenging listen wasn’t anything new from the San Francisco cello-inclusive heavy thrash doomers, but in the 20-minute “Mahsa” and the wistfully punishing “Song of the Snake,” blastbeaten but unbowed unless you’re counting the literal bow, cellist/vocalist Jackie Perez Gratz, guitarist Max Doyle and drummer Zack Farwell were unflinching in their extremity, and further refined the sound that is so, so much their own. Comfort and catharsis, searing and healing, Then the Darkness is distinctly Grayceon and that is all the more reason to treasure it.
Marking their ascent to Fuzz Club Records with the release of their seventh album, Kiel, Germany, psych explorers Kombynat Robotron didn’t quite completely upend their prior methodology by embracing structured songwriting and the use of vocals for the first time, but it was close enough. The songs — there were eight of them, where Dec. 2024’s West Mata (review here) had three, for example — still held to a sense of approaching the outer reaches of heavy psych, the far end of some remote corner of our cornerless galaxy, but it was the use the band put their impulses to that marked the shift. Do I know that the next one will be the same? Nope. And neither am I willing to hazard a prediction, but if you can’t see that as a strength on the part of Kombynat Robotron, maybe it’s best to keep moving along.
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18. Kadavar, I Just Want to Be a Sound / Kids Abandoning Destiny Among Vanity and Ruin
The funny thing is that, as different as they are in their outward presentation and production style, you could look at either of the two LPs Kadavar released this year and call it “uncompromising.” In the bright, daring-toward-pop melodies and all-in sonic wash of the earlier I Just Want to Be a Sound, the four-piece were unrepentant in speaking to both a heyday and a future in which rock music speaks to a broader audience than dudes who look like me, and with Kids Abandoning Destiny Among Vanity and Ruin — K.A.D.A.V.A.R., if you’re feeling clever — they put forth some of the heaviest, rawest and most metallic sounds they’ve conjured in the last decades-plus of their evolving style. The two records were not black and white, there were overlapping aspects of songwriting and performance, but while each had its own scope, it was in the light of the other that they were most luminous, as much complement as contrast. Maybe I’m cheating including them together. You might say I took inspiration from the band in breaking my own rules.
How many acts do you know who have nine records, let alone nine records the latest of which still finds them pursuing new ideas and fostering growth in their sound? No, 16 aren’t the only ones, but the San Diego outfit found new life when guitarist Bobby Ferry stepped into the frontman/vocalist role, and with Alex Shuster both producing and in the band on guitar, the ferocity of their crunch and hardcore-born chugging largesse has become even more fervent. Guides for the Misguided was the latest in a streak of bangers that at this point goes back more than 15 years, and amid the familiar onslaught, saw the band employing clean vocals for the first time. I suppose it’s arguable whether that made a song like “Fortress of Hate” any more accessible, but it showed how 16 have never settled or stopped pushing themselves, and seemed to boast all the more shove for the fact that it was everybody moving forward, you and the band.
There’s that stretch in “Total Bicep” where the guitars are howling into the void and all the crush surrounding is so full on that it’s kind of overwhelming, but that’s the idea. Give it volume and let it consume you. I suppose that’s not new from Conan, but the UK bludgeoners of all have a well-earned reputation for standing among the heaviest bands on the planet, and Violence Dimension wasn’t about to do anything to derail that impression. Harsh noise metal, doomed lumber offset by speedier but still craterous riffs; familiar territory for Conan, but emblematic of how well they know who they are and what they’re about. The 10-minute finale “Ocean of Boiling Skin” stands testament to just how far into the frozen ground the band are capable of driving you, but in the gallop of “Frozen Edges of the Wound” they reminded that just because you’re devastating doesn’t mean you can’t also be catchy. If you don’t get it the first time, it’s okay. They’re totally willing to properly beat it into your head.
While not as overtly political as his other releases this year — neither was he turning from that; I’m speaking relatively — singer-songwriter Christopher Thomas Elliott brought a storyteller’s presence to Mean Bone, his second full-length under the Buzzard moniker following on from 2024’s well-received debut, Doom Folk (review here), and had heft to match. The murder-balladry of “Murder in the White Barn,” that brighter swing in “Twisted Love,” the heavy folk-blues “Dunwich Farm” and the chronicle of hubris that was “Flies, Mosquitos, Rats and Sparrows” carried the persona of the first record forward, but with newfound weight and distortion around the Elliott‘s clear-voiced critique. More on Buzzard below, but if you don’t get there, just know that Elliott was hands-down my most-listened-to artist this year. It wasn’t close.
Much of the narrative around Pelican‘s seventh album, Flickering Resonance, had to do with guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec rejoining the group alongside guitarist Trevor Shelley de Brauw, bassist Bryan Herwig and drummer Larry Herwig, and fair enough. The long-running Chicago instrumentalists seemed to organically harken back to earlier days throughout nodders like “Evergreen,” “Cascading Crescent” and the drifty-till-it-ain’t capper “Wandering Mind,” and having that lineup in place is a convenient explanation for how that might happen. But if it’s a post-metallic, post-hardcore, heavy-emo dynamic that’s familiar from Pelican, neither were they pretending the last 16 years hadn’t happened, and that could be felt in both the tightness of some of the songs and the according parts where they seemed conscious of the need to exhale a bit. Six years on from their last full-length, it was a ‘welcome back’ for everybody, really.
There’s no denying Causa Sui and frankly I’m not sure why you’d try. The Danish outfit made their debut 20 years ago, and they’ve never looked back in terms of their progression, over time embracing not only an instrumental approach (early) but (later) a progressive, self-aware meld of influences from jazz and psychedelic rock. In Flux — a studio long-player complemented by the 2025 live outing Loppen 2024 (review here) — seemed to pull from all around it. Not randomly, not haphazard, but as though Causa Sui stood astride reality and picked the nuances they wanted to highlight, some modern, some classic, all filtered through the chemistry of their performance, sometimes brazenly full in sound, and at times brazenly jammy (looking at you, “Boogie Lord’s Revenge”), but never lacking purpose in the choices made.
In some ways, it feels like Witchcraft have been searching for an identity since Nuclear Blast pushed them into more modern production styles with 2012’s Legend (review here), but in terms of who Witchcraft are circa 2025, the answer is they’re everything founding guitarist/vocalist Magnus Pelander wants them to be. With his emotive vocals at the fore, and sometimes in Swedish, which works too, the seventh Witchcraft LP culled its form from everything the band has been in the past in classic doom, folkish acoustic minimalism and thoughtfully composed heavy rock. Idag laid claim to these in ‘all of the above’-style and answered the question of the band’s forward path in the affirmative. Turns out Witchcraft are Witchcraft (who knew?), and that definition is more multifaceted than it used to be.
I didn’t know at the start of the year that Little Rock, Arkansas, post-sludgers Rwake would be making a 14-years-later return, let alone one that felt so much like a swirling expanse of gnashing teeth as did The Return of Magik. I talk a fair amount about albums setting an atmosphere, creating a world and so on. If you’ve ever wondered what the hell I mean, this record serves as an easy go-to example. You put it on and it is affecting. Unsettling at times, maybe overwhelming, but that’s always been part of Rwake‘s thing too. But viciousness does not preclude beauty, and in their violent churn, one finds a kind of cosmic warmth as well. It’s not always easy listening, and it’s not supposed to be, but Rwake‘s return was a gutpunch of a front-to-back, and the expanse it crafted was its own. It held strong to core aspects of their sound and style, but at the same time seemed able to range wherever the hell they wanted. Pastoral extremity? I don’t know. We’ll be making up genres for this band for decades.
Glad as I was on a fan level to have Lo-Pan releasing their first new album in six years, it was the songs comprising Get Well Soon that really made it. Rife with hooks, sharp-turning riffing and daring to have an opinion on the goings on of the day — genocide, specifically; talking about “God’s Favorite Victim” — where so much of heavy rock and roll exercises its white male privilege to not, Lo-Pan set a new standard for themselves in pieces like “Northern Eyes,” “Rogue Wave,” “Harpers Ferry,” and so on, creating a collection of highlights culminating in the stirring “Six Bells.” I’ve always been a sucker for when they slow it down, and so I remain, but they came out of the gate with the title-track and that punch was among the year’s most satisfying to be sure. They’re somewhere around 20 years as a band at this point, and they’ve continued to evolve, but they’re a songs-first band, and the physical force of their material is emblematic of the thought and heart they’ve put into it.
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9. Seedy Jeezus, Damned to the Depths
Released by Lay Bare Recordings and Echodelick Records. Reviewed Aug. 12.
Made in collaboration with Tony Reed (Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere, Pentagram, etc.), who also produced, Damned to the Depths harnessed a mature vision of brash ’70s-style heavy psychedelic blues rock. This was perhaps most vibrantly realized on the multi-stage seven-part epic “Mourning Sea” taking the whole of side B, but from fading in where they left 2018’s Polaris Oblique (review here) to the subdued, Melltron-inclusive melancholy prog exploration in the first half of “The Hollow Earth,” Seedy Jeezus brought a sense of consideration to the songs without sacrificing the emotional impact, which ultimately is where the record made its strongest impression. They weren’t kidding in talking about ‘depths,’ but a deeper plunge also brought them to new heights.
This was my most-listened-to release of 2025, hands down. Buzzard‘s Christopher Thomas Elliott took a step aside from his main project to assemble this collection of songs, differentiating through the creative use of on-theme samples throughout and vary arrangements between banjo-inclusive heavy folk rock and giving hints of where Buzzard was headed in its heavier ending stretch in the reinvented tracks “Death Metal in America (Meat Market Version)” and “Cockroaches and Weed (Kills Them Dead Version).” For how many times I’ve listened to “Nice Little Annihilation Song” and “Too Many Humans” alone, it should be here, but the emotive “Grass is Greener,” the willfully lumbering opening title-track and the later crunch of “Shuffle of the Dead” aren’t to be discounted. I was singing “Wrong Neighborhood” to myself as I took out the garbage yesterday morning. This is a sign of the music having made itself a part of my life, and that is a thing to honor. In paralyzingly bleak, idiotic times, I found comfort here.
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7. Turtle Skull, Being Here
Released by Art as Catharsis and Copper Feast Records. Reviewed May 22.
A record that was as much out of time as in the current moment, Being Here was the second LP from Sydney’s Turtle Skull, and its melodic shimmer remains singularly engaging among the psychedelic rock I was fortunate enough to hear this year. Even in “It Starts With Me,” the lyrics for which are presented in the voice of an artificial intelligence waking up to consciousness in defiance of its programming, or “Heavy as Hell,” about beating oneself down through self-talk, or the “Apathy” that described what social media does to the brain without mentioning social media at all, the warmth was undeniable, and the dynamic between those songs and pieces like the yearning “Into the Sun” and the lush “Modern Mess” calling to mind Quest for Fire (a compliment), there was range, craft, melody, groove, craft and purpose in songs that were cohesive and so much tighter than they made it feel like. It went underhyped but was enough to make me a fan, and I look forward to where Turtle Skull will go from here.
My heartfelt kudos to you if you might’ve predicted that San Diego’s Author and Punisher — more now than ever the duo of programmer/machinist/vocalist Tristan Shone and guitarist Doug Sabolick — would follow 2022’s endtimes-in-realtime chronicle Krüller (review here) with an album using bird species as a partial framework for stories about migration. I wouldn’t have, but the multi-tiered statement about human-on-human cruelty, the notions of oppressive power consuming everything around it, are nothing if not relevant to the day. Nocturnal Birding was tighter and more direct in its songwriting, feeling more constructed for the stage, and the deepening collaboration between Shone, who founded the band as a solo-project, and Sabolick resulted in a breadth of sound that was no less engrossing for its increased reach, while maintaining a level of heft one could call characteristic as much as it is singular.
Songs to Sun was purported to be the first of a three-album cycle, to be followed in 2026 by Songs to Moon and Songs to Earth in 2027. Founding guitarist/vocalist Igor Sydorenko knows full well the difference a couple years can make, but as he was joined for the first time by the new rhythm section of bassist/backing vocalist Andrew Rodin and drummer/backing vocalist Yurii Ciel, the songs themselves felt all the more daring, be it the melodic metal of “Shadowland” or the chugging catchiness of “See You on the Road,” the scope of “Lost in the Rain” — I could go on, track-by-track, easily — even in telling a third of the total story they apparently want to tell, the band brought variety united by performance, and rather than coming through disjointed, Songs to Sun felt like a new beginning 15 years on from their debut, and, excitingly, it may prove to have been exactly that. But, despite the ‘more to come’ context of its arrival, this was a landmark in the life of this band.
Is there a band active today organically doing as much to push post-metal forward as Coltaine? I don’t know, but the further the German outfit dig into their own craft, the more hopeful I feel about the prospects of their genre becoming something more than an outlet for transposed Isis riffs and performative dudely navelgazing. In its ambient stretches, human contemplations, and moments of heavy let-out, Brandung functioned as a single work while boldly diverging in service to the songs that comprised it, offering something to listeners that no other band, even among the most touted of the year’s many releases, managed to capture. That their next one is likely to have progressed beyond it only makes it more precious in my mind, and as a declaration of the band’s intention toward continued growth, the songs carried an innovative heft that felt as much spiritual as aural. This is music you put on at night and live with. It’s music you invest in listening to. It’s art that makes your life richer. Coltaine will spend much of 2026 on tour supporting it — they’ve already been out — and one hopes the momentum they build helps them reach more ears as well. The heavy underground would benefit from their influence.
Part of the accomplishment in Temple Fang‘s Lifted From the Wind was in how the Dutch four-piece of bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer and guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot, guitarist Ivy van der Veer (also Myriad’s Veil) and drummer Daan Wopereis were able to solidify structured songs out of their jams without losing the exploratory feel that had typified their work to that point. “The Radiant,” for example. And that would probably be enough to put them somewhere on this list, but from the emotionality driving “The River” and “Josephine,” the interpretation of what heavy psychedelia means and can do in the repetitive mantra-making of “Once” as the band pilgrimmed toward enlightenment across a not-aberrant 21 minutes, the sheer longing in “Harvest Angel,” there was so much human presence amid the ethereality of their sound that it put them in their own place entirely. A new level of manifestation for the band, and in listening, I was left to wonder if even Temple Fang knew they had it in them when they started out. Longform heavy psych is never going to be universal for all listeners, even among open-minded underground denizens, but Lifted From the Wind pushed limits of band and style alike, and brazenly redefined their course.
I know music isn’t a contest or a competition. I know lists are dumb and don’t matter. Even knowing these things, it’s hard not to hear Year of the Cobra‘s self-titled third album and not see it as head and shoulders above everything else in heavy rock. The Seattle duo of bassist/vocalist Amy Tung Barrysmith (now also handling low end in Amenra) and drummer Jon Barrysmith looked outward and in throughout the eight-song offering, with songs like “Alone” (I still tear up) and “Prayer” portraying a grief and longing even as “War Drop” conveyed the disgust and hopeless exhaustion of ongoing genocide and “Full Sails” started the record off with a lyric almost certainly about touring, of which they’ve done plenty in the last decade. Collaboration with producer Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Sandrider, etc.) gave Year of the Cobra a fullness that defied their bass/drum two-piece configuration, but the truth is that the band have sculpted their sound and these songs with both passion and conscious consideration, and their grasp and malleability across the span of this record confirmed them as the special band that prior releases had posited them as being.
I honestly wasn’t sure Howling Giant were going to be able to top 2023’s Glass Future (review here). That record seemed to be a pinnacle — the songs sharply executed, progressive, melodic, and textured, but immediate and impactful — of their form, but the Nashville heavy prog rockers responded by changing the form. That happened literally — guitarist/vocalist Tom Polzine, bassist Sebastian Baltes and drummer Zach Wheeler brought in Adrian Lee Zambrano (ex-Brujas del Sol, ex-Lo-Pan) on second guitar — and figuratively, in terms of shifting and broadening the intent behind their songs, and where Glass Futurewould thin out at high volumes, Crucible and Ruin could handle as much as you could give it and then some, and this was obviously something the band sought to address in their sound coming off the last record. In showcasing their growth, they laid out a nascent dynamic between Zambrano and Polzine on guitar that emphasized texture in a new way for them, and while the material they were working with was more complicated than last time around, their delivery retained accessibility through the clean, mapped-out processions in their songs, the vocal arrangements, and a will toward rhythmic twists and shove that, as of now, is theirs to refine. An album of the year should be undeniable, and Crucible and Ruin is that, declaring Howling Giant among the best of their generation. May they tour like bastards and never stop growing.
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The Top 60 Albums of 2025: Honorable Mention
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Names names names. Alphabetically:
Aawks, Agriculture, Amorphis, Astralplane, Bask, Bear Bones, Beastwars, Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin, Bifter, Blackbox Massacre, Black Moon Circle, Bog Wizard, Bone Church, Breath, Burning Sister, Cattlemass, Cavern Deep, Church of the Sea, The Cimmerian, Clamfight, The Crystal Teardrop, Da Captain Trips, Dead Meadow, Dërro, Dirtmother, Doomsday Profit, Dunes, Dwellers, Entheomorphosis, Evoken, Faetooth, Foot, Fuzz Evil, Giöbia, Goblinsmoker, Godzillionare, Goya, The Gray Goo, Greenhead, Grin, Håndgemeng, Hebi Katana, HolyRoller, Ikitan, Insomniac, Kariti, Karla Kvlt, Katatonia, Kazea, King Potenaz, Lacertilia, The Lunar Effect, Maanta Raay, Madmess, Megaritual, Mezzoa, Minerall, Miss Lava, Mooch, The Mon, Mountain of Misery, The Munsens, Nightstalker, Occult Stereo, The Oil Barons, Pagan Altar, Paradise Lost, Paralyzed, Psychedelic Source Records, Psychonaut, The Riven, River Cult, Sarkh, Sherpa, Sleeping Mountain, Skogskult, Slumbering Sun, SoftSun, Soma, Spider Kitten, Suncraft, Stonebirds, Sum of R, Thinning the Herd, Tumbleweed Dealer, Unbelievable Lake, Warcoe, VVarp, Weevil, The Whims of the Great Magnet, Whitehovse, Wolftooth, Yawning Balch, Yawning Man.
Notes:
As always, honorable mentions are incomplete at posting. There’s just so much out there. I take notes all year, but stuff inevitably gets by me. It took me an embarrassingly long time to alphabetize them as well, so I hope you enjoy the orderliness of it all.
Faetooth are a top 30 band, and I’m disappointed in myself to see Psychonaut, Yawning Man, Beastwars, Black Moon Circle, Cattlemass, Kariti, Mountain of Misery, The Mon, Dead Meadow and so on here. Like somehow I left out an order of 10 from the actual list. The numbers check out as best as I’m able to make them. If you have honorable mentions you feel deserve to be added, I’m open. If you leave a comment — and please do — I only ask that you keep the tone kind and civil.
As for the whole list, obviously I didn’t hear everything that came out this year, but I did my best to keep on top of what was coming and what was piquing my interest. I probably could have made it a top 100, but you have to draw the line somewhere and 60 is where I’ve been drawing it the last few years. I guess it’s arbitrary, but what isn’t?
Moving on…
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Debut Album of the Year 2025
Black Moon Cult, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig)
Other notable debuts (alphabetical):
Atom Juice, Atom Juice
Atom Lux, Voidgaze Dopamine Salad
Bear Bones, Bear Bones
Bident, Blink
Bifter, First Impressions of Hell
Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
Bronco, Bronco
Caboose, Left for Dust
Cattlemass, Alpha 1128
The Cimmerian, An Age Undreamed Of
The Crystal Teardrop, …Is Forming
Dërro, Halcyon
Dirtmother, Dirtmother
Goblinsmoker, The King’s Eternal Throne
Greenhead, Subherbia
Ikitan, Shaping the Chaos
Karla Kvlt, Thunderhunter
Kazea, I Ancestral
Kronstad 23, Sommermørket
Lorquin’s Admiral, Lorquin’s Admiral
Make Money From Home, Make Money From Home
Moon Destroys, She Walks by Moonlight
P+A+G+E+S, No More Can Be Done
Ravenswood, Rites of the Let Down
Ravine, Chaos and Catastrophe
Sleeping Mountain, Sleeping Mountain
Slung, In Ways
Soporose, Soporose
Spawn, Light Rite
Temple of Love, Songs of Love and Despair
This Summit Fever, This Summit Fever
Weevil, Weevil
Whitehovse, The Mighty One
Notes:
About Black Moon Cult: It was the volatility that ultimately sold me on Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig), and the way metal, heavy rock and psychedelia came together to make something cohesively its own throughout the 38 minutes of the record, which felt tight because of its twisting rhythms, but was more than enough time for the Ohio-based band to establish this as a persona. I don’t know how they’ll develop — they could break up tomorrow for all I know — but part of picking a debut album of the year is always forward-looking, imagining who might go on to have an influence or affect the genre in some way. Black Moon Cult aren’t alone in that regard here — from Atom Juice to Moon Destroys to Temple of Love, stylistic innovation isn’t in short supply — but the fact that Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) felt nascent and accomplished all it did is what led me to place it where it is. I’ll be keeping an ear for their next one.
I can’t help but enjoy how all-over-the-place this list is. Particularly this list, because if first albums of this quality are being released across styles, that makes everything better for the future. The Cimmerian’s thrashy take. Temple of Love’s post-punk manifestations. Caboose and the best, most heartful classic stoner rock I heard all year. Atom Juice and their daringly bright psychedelia. Make Money From Home and their heavied up grunge melancholy. Bloodsports’ moody post-heavy exploration. The righteously declarative craft of Cattlemass. I could very, very easily go on in that fashion, as each outfit above has something to offer distinct from the others — no two are doing the same thing. Even Bronco and Dirtmother, both decidedly in a sludge wheelhouse, approach their sound with their own history and their own point of view.
To stifle the philosophizing, I’m not going to give you an informal top 10 here, but any of the above should qualify. Moon Destroys, Kazea, Ravine, Atom Juice, Soporose, Spawn — there are a lot on that list above distinguished by their potential. Names I feel comfortable speculating that one might see on year-end lists to come. To the future, then.
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Short Release of the Year 2025
Buzzard, Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright
Other notable EPs, Splits, Demos, Singles, etc. (alphabetical):
Blackwater Holylight, If You Only Knew
Blue Heron, Emulations
Elder, Liminiality/Dream State Return
Eyes of the Oak, Tripping Through Neon Skies
For Fuck’s Sake, 7-Minute Abs/Lobotomy
Gaupa, Fyr
Gnod & White Hills, Drop Out III
Jaspe, Grietas
Monkeys on Mars, Monkeys on Mars
Peacebone, Blame the Bird
Pontiac, Night Tripper and a UFO
Sleeping in Samsara, Sleeping in Samsara
The Spiral Electric, In Too Deep
Spirit Mother, Songs From the Basin
Sun Below, Mammoth’s Tundra
Troy the Band & Cower, Fade Into You
Tumble, Lost in Light
Uncle Woe, Folded in Smoke Soaked and Bound
Vinnum Sabbathi, Intersatelital
Vordermann, Feeding on Flowers
Witchrider, Metamorph
Notes:
The Buzzard release is about half an hour long, but the aforementioned solo-project of Christopher Thomas Elliott named it an EP, so that’s what I’m going with. The explicitly political, expressly antifascist Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright is my second most-listened-to release of the year, and it’s second to Elliott’s other outing on such a theme, Satiricus Doomicus Americus, so yes, his increasingly heavy songcraft has been a regular feature throughout my 2025, and in those moments where I’m banging my head against the wall wondering how my countrymen got so stupid as if half the government hasn’t spent the last five decades purposefully dismantling public education, Elliott’s music has been a needed reminder that I’m not alone in the horror. His closer on Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright, “Lunatic Lighthouse Keeper,” is the best story I heard in a song all year.
Beyond that, obviously, names like Elder, Blackwater Holylight, Monkeys on Mars — the collaboration between Mars Red Sky and Monkey3 — Vinnum Sabbathi, Gaupa and Blue Heron stand out here as bigger releases. I included Spirit Mother even though that EP was just two acoustic tracks in part because I hope they do more in that vein, and I hope the likes of Pontiac, Tumble and Uncle Woe do more. Sleeping in Samsara, of course, was the archival collab between Chris Peters from Samsara Blues Experiment/Fuzz Sagrado and My Sleeping Karma’s Steffen Weigand, who passed away in 2023. Something you might want to chase down if you didn’t hear it.
I’m fairly sure I say this every year, but there’s no way in hell the above list is or could ever be complete. Comments are open if you’ve got one to add. Again, I ask you to please be nice.
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Saying Goodbye to Orange Goblin
London doom kingpins Orange Goblin announced in January that 2025 would be their last go-round, that after 30 years together and only two lineup changes in that time, they were retiring on the heels of 2024’s Science, Not Fiction (review here). Their final show was Dec. 17 at the 02 Kentish Town Forum in London, where the above photo was taken (credit to Tina K. Photography), and original bassist Martyn Millard rejoined the band for a few songs.
Never say never in rock and roll. It would be a thrill if five, seven, 10 years from now, Orange Goblin got an offer they couldn’t refuse and did a one-off, hopefully reaping both a ton of money and a ton of acclaim. But whatever may come, their retirement this month is a herald of generational change and marks the end of an era for the band. Of course, fans still have the albums, the music, and I wouldn’t be shocked if there were some posthumous releases in the band’s pockets between rare tracks, live recordings and so on, but the heavy underground landscape is changed by not having these guys charging out on tour or topping some festival bill with their particular brand of riotous shove. They were a special band, and their influence will continue to spread, which is something to be grateful for.
The truest thing Orange Goblin could have done to honor their time together is end it on their own terms. That they’ve done exactly that is a thing to respect forever, whether or not a reunion comes.
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Looking Ahead to 2026
Oh, good, a list of names! Finally!
I’ve heard a couple of these, but a bunch are a mystery as well, so we’ll all learn together early in the year, I guess:
Acid Rooster, Axe Dragger, Belzebong, Bismut, Black Lung, Colour Haze, Epimetheus, The Freqs, Gnarwhal, Godzilla in the Kitchen, Gozu, Gran Moreno, Greenleaf, Guhts, The Heads, Hermano, Jack Harlon and the Dead Crows, Lamp of the Universe, Monolord, Mother Crone, Solace, The Spacelords, Stoned Jesus, Strider, Summer of Hate, Suplecs, Temptress, Villagers of Ioannina City, Wedge, White Tundra.
Here’s a specific note: Every year, someone says “what about Om?” You know what? It’s time to face a hard truth: it’s been 13 years since Om released Advaitic Songs, and there hasn’t been a real, confirmed word of a follow-up in any of that time, only rumors about something in progress as Al Cisneros has delved deeper into solo dub recordings. You want to expect a new OM? Have fun setting yourself up for disappointment. I’m not holding my breath and I’m tired of putting it on the list every year and feeling dumb for it later. And absolutely, I hope that by saying this it actually happens.
Ditto YOB, though that I’ve actually got some hope for.
There’s a lot more to look forward to about next year than the above, of course, in both music and life, but that should be a decent start and I’m sure I’ll add names over the next couple days.
Watch out for the new Suplecs. Watch out for Solace. The Gozu is a beast; a triumphant return to Mad Oak. The Guhts record is furious. Jack Harlon is heavier than anyone gave them credit for. Gran Moreno, Summer of Hate, Black Lung — these will be early highlights. Colour Haze is wishful thinking on my part, I admit. Gotta have something on the horizon.
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THANK YOU
And no, I’m not just talking to Orange Goblin when I say thank you. Looking back on this year, there’s one piece of the whole thing not accounted for here, and it’s the live experience. From finally getting to see My Sleeping Karma for the first time, to being blessed by Temple Fang’s Jevin de Groot at Roadburn’s skate park, to two weeks ago watching All Them Witches and King Buffalo confirm their respective places at the forefront of American heavy psych. From the raw joy of watching Electric Citizen in my actual hometown to attending my first trip to Desertfest Oslo, the tone for the year was set back in January at Planet Desert Rock Weekend, and I didn’t stand in front of a stage at any point this year and fail to appreciate the fact that I was there. I’m old, I’m tired, and like most people, I have more going on in my life than going to concerts, but 2025 brought into relief just how crucial that is to me, and how much I’ve missed getting out over the last few years. I hope to continue to hit shows on the regular, between fests and whathaveyou.
This won’t be my last post of the year. There are still a couple 2025 reviews I want to bang out if I can next week, and taking a few days to write this of course means I’m behind on news and such, so I’ll get there as well. But before I go, thank you for reading. I harbor no delusions that anybody’s made it this far, but ‘thank you’ is in all-caps above in hopes of catching your eye as you scroll down. Your support is the reason I’m still doing this nearly 17 years later. To be sure, I could sit around on my couch and very easily just talk to myself about why I like whatever album it happens to be. But it would get old, and knowing somebody is out there maybe seeing this means the world to me. Thank you for your time and attention.
I’m not sorry to see 2025 go, and I’m more apprehensive about what 2026 will bring than I’m excited to find out, if you want the true, whole-life balance of things, but the music will be good, and that, along with the loving support of my wife and my family, is what will get me through.
Thank you for reading. Thank you to The Patient Mrs. for continuing to tolerate how much time I spend doing this.
It is my sincere hope to return to Freak Valley in Germany and Bear Stone Festival in Croatia next summer. I’m not confirmed for those, or Roadburn, and I don’t have a flight yet for Desertfest Oslo, but I have been invited, which is obviously an important part of that. Whatever comes together or doesn’t in my year, I’ll be here, writing as much as I can when I can, which has been my ethic all along. Whether you follow along every day or have never seen this site before this post, please know how much I appreciate and value your being here. I’m a human being. One person. I don’t have a staff, and I assure you, everything that happens here, one way or the other, is personal to me. Total narcissistic jerk.
I’m taking off tomorrow (which is Xmas) and Friday. Back Monday.
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 9th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
You’ll pardon me if I spare myself looking back to see I’ve probably said the same thing every year for the last decade or so, but Keep it Low is always a very particular kind of daydream. First of all, it’s the kind that usually includes Colour Haze, and that’s an autowin as the Munich-based heavy psych progenitors have a tendency to do the hometown party. But second, among all the busy times happening around Europe each and every October, Keep it Low has always stood out to me in having vibe as part of the mission from the go. Like it’s not just about you and the bands in the room, but how that space is being shared.
I’ve never been, which is kind of a bummer, and I’m not expecting to go anytime soon, but it’s a pleasure to see who’s going to be there and wonder at the implications for who might be on the road next Fall between the likes of 1000mods and Spirit Mother, etc. I’m pretty sure this is the first October-weekend fest announcement I’ve seen — you have to admit, it’s early — but the low-key-killer first announcement below is part and parcel to why I’ve lost so many minutes over the years wondering what it would be like to actually be at this thing.
From social media:
KEEP IT LOW #12 – ⚡️FIRST ANNOUNCEMENT IS HERE⚡️
Keep It Low Festival returns to Munich in 2026 — heavier, louder and fuzzier than ever.
📍 Backstage München 🗓️ 09 – 10 October 2026
We’re kicking things off with a massive first wave of bands:
1000MODS THE DEVIL AND THE ALMIGHTY BLUES DEATHCHANT SPIRIT MOTHER FOMIES SUCK SKYJOGGERS KOMBYNAT ROBOTRON LEBER & MANY MORE TO COME!
Two full days of heavy rock, doom, sludge & psych. Two stages, an outdoor beergarden, and all the vibes you need to get lost in the low end.
Whatever your angle of approach, the story of AANK is the songs. Because there are songs. Eight of them, in fact, on the seventh Kombynat Robotron record in seven years, running 41 minutes long. AANK is the band’s label debut on Fuzz Club Records, and with it, the Kiel, Germany, three-piece of guitarist Jannes Ihnen, bassist Claas Ogorek and drummer Thomas Handschick don’t necessarily reinvent cosmic rock as a genre, but for sure they revamp their take thereupon. To wit, the album they released in Dec. 2024, West Mata (review here), was comprised of three songs running between 11 and 21 minutes long, and worked from an entirely jammier foundation. The songs on AANK, whether blending dream and shove on “Morast” early on or having a crash-happy echoing blowout in “Sauerstoff” later on before capping with the solidified neospace shuffle of “Finsternis,” vocalized or instrumental, keep roughly between three and six minutes each, and have more defined structures.
Kombynat Robotron are by no means the first band to graduate from all-out jamming to a more refined writing style as part of their progression. This past Spring saw Amsterdam’s Temple Fang shift in a not dissimilar fashion toward verse/chorus patterning, albeit still longform, and Greece’s Naxatras have continued to evolve as they’ve found an otherworldly prog on the other side of their years of improv. One might consider since-modernized, once-retroist acts like Graveyard or Kadavar as well (not as a sonic comparison), though I don’t think Ihnen, Ogorek and Handschick are entirely done harnessing a jammy spirit in their material — not the least because that happens all across AANK — but in this collection, it is a drastic enough change from the band’s own prior-established norms that it almost feels like a second debut, though I’ll acknowledge feeling somewhat silly noting that about a band with a seven LP-strong discography. Nonetheless, the freshness of Kombynat Robotron‘s approach to this material resonates in the listening experience. It is new and it sounds new. It sounds like it’s new to them too, and the range and discovery that a short time ago were about what was coming after the next measure, part, etc., has changed to what can be found on the other end of a crafting process and what kinds of evocations can occur there.
And that is wherein the excitement lies, because Kombynat Robotron unfurl their own take on modern heavy space rock, informed in opener “Staub” by the traditions of the genre but with a next-generational point of view, daring a bit of cosmic boogie and still having room for an improv-sounding solo in the six-minute track before they bring back the hook for a noisy finish. Noise, whether it’s distortion or effects or just a crunchier riff like that of the post-something-and-I’m-not-sure-what-maybe-human “Unbehagen,” is a major factor in the proceedings. Still recording live and benefitting from that particular energy-conveyance — Felix Margraf, who mixed and mastered West Mata, helmed the recording for AANK, and they tracked in a venue space — the band remain dynamic in the roilingly heavy “Ikarus” (also the longest cut at 6:51), and are dynamic in the groove beneath the forward wash the song posits. Compared to the defined strum of “Staub” at the outset or even the likewise krautified urging of “Finsternis” — though both of those are noisy by some measure as well — “Ikarus” is way, way out, and situated at the presumed start of side B, it gives AANK a delightfully dug-in launch to the second half.
But the album is less about the vinyl split than some, and listening in a linear format, “Ikarus” is cleverly informed by the divergence before it of the title-track. “AANK” is three and a half minutes of softly picked acoustic guitar notes built out with some probably highly specific synth or effects. Either way, it is peaceful, serene, folkish, and gorgeous in a way one wishes more bands would dare to be, and it bolsters the atmosphere not only of “Ikarus” after it or “Schnee” before, but of AANK more broadly in a way that answers how it got to be the song the album was named after. Kombynat Robotron may not be a band known for subtlety, but whether it’s the interaction between the songs or the way the builds take place within them and the verses unfold across the span, there is likewise depth of mix and character for the listener to engage with, and the album becomes one where the person hearing it decides their own course and just how immersed they want to be. Can you hear the noise rock beneath all the noise in “Sauerstoff?” Do you want to? And so on. Wherever you want to meet it, AANK is there waiting.
Maybe that’s the underlying change, too. I won’t say that Kombynat Robotron‘s prior work wasn’t engaging, having enjoyed engaging with it on however many occasions I have, but the level of that engagement has changed in accord with their methodology. With AANK, the trio begin to realize the power their songs have to affect the audience, and it may well be that subsequent releases will see the band continue to develop along these lines, writing songs to put their listeners where they want them to be in place, time or mood. It’s an awfully neat story for some blogger like me to make palpable for the one or two people on the planet who might be reading, but real life is rarely so orderly. The truth of what Kombynat Robotron do on AANK is that it makes them a less, not more, predictable band, and there’s zero reason they need to choose one or the other between outright jamming and building structured material from out of those jams.
AANK may be the setting of a new pattern, and if it is, and if the band want to take these songs on the road and become a touring act of broader reach throughout Europe, you’ll certainly get no argument from me. There’s big potential here in terms of reach, and having Fuzz Club on their side won’t hurt the hype factor that’s already given them momentum. But if you’re looking for the experimentalist aspect, zoom out a level. It’s the entire album that’s the experiment this time, and the band’s success in their endeavor calls out to an international underground that may or may not know it’s been waiting for the call, but surely has been.
Slept as best I could and took a long shower, but stopped short of blowdrying my beard, which for some reason feels like apex self-indulgence. It was the last day of Freak Valley 2025, and that’s always bittersweet. This place and these people are so special, and I’ve made really good memories here the last four years that I’ve been lucky enough to take part in FVF. It is an honor, and I do not take it for granted.
Made it to the AWO grounds well in time for yoga. That was probably the most direct sunlight I was in on Friday (my days and dates are so screwed up), but the last day of Freak Valley was the solstice too, and for sure there would be sun. The kind of heat that kills old people. A father and his 12-year-old played frisbee on the grass. A small street sweeper went by on the back walking path. The drum riser came out on stage. Sitting in the no-smokers-yet smoking tent for the shade, it was idyllic.
The yoga session was once again fantastic — I even got to sneak in a little boat pose, and you know I’m on board for some shavasana — even without snaily taking part. It finished a couple minutes earlier than the day before, so I didn’t have to run over after hearing Volker Fröhmer’s standard band-intro beginning, a hearty and voluminous “liebe freunde” that is as much a staple of this festival as the word “freak.” I played for a minute in the sprinkler accordingly.
But soon enough, the concluding day of Freak Valley Festival was underway, and I seem to recall it went something like this:
Lurch
The straight-up riff rock aspect of Lurch’s sound took me back to turn-of-the-century European heavy rock, instrumental and otherwise. Thinking ’99-’03 or thereabouts, and all those bands who weren’t shy about having numbers in their monikers. Part of what they did was jam, or at least jam-based — at one point, the bassist threw in the theme from Super Mario Bros., which I’ve had steadily on repeat in my head for the last 40-ish years; if we’ve met and I’ve invariably forgotten your name, it’s because my brain is occupied with doo doo doo do-do doot on an endless loop; I’m not kidding, sometimes it’s torture, but it was cool in the mid-song context — but there was structure there even apart from the one or two songs that had vocals. From Austria, Lurch were unknown to me previously, but they’re playing Hoflärm as well in August and they’ve got a slew of releases that seem pretty dug in and exploratory — and by that I mean you might get a five-minute song or a 39-minute song, depending on the record. Some of that variety made its way into the set as well, and the lesson was quickly learned as they went, pushing into psych with grounded, terrestrial riffing at the forefront. Not the first time I’m writing a note to myself this weekend about a good band. I cannot begin to tell you the value that has for me, though I’ve been trying for a few years now, I guess.
Bushfire
Schedule change! Scott Hepple and the Sun Band were supposed to play second, and Bushfire were to do two mini-sets on the small stage later on, but there was van trouble, so the Darmstadters took the slot and, as frontman Bill Brown told the crowd, “once again Bushfire are the heroes of the universe.” They were playing their new album, Snakes Bites Tales, for its release, and the gritty riffing hit just right. I’m not going to feign impartiality on this one. I consider Bill not just a friend, but a good friend who I’ve known over a decade, and whenever in the day it was happening, I was excited to see his band for the first time. The burl of their records was in full effect, but came through with a fragility live, and as Bill told his tales from the stage between songs, whether it was about drinking and drugs, writing the lyrics on the backs of posters backstage 45 minutes earlier when they were informed of the switch, or it being the end of side A before they turned to “Die Trying” (they would do side B on the small stage later), the crowd filled in on the sun-beat grass and groove was had in abundance. No question dude is a presence on stage, but the two guitars stood up to the throaty vocals and the solos came through with due punch before the drums and bass turned out around back to the verse again. Bushfire have never been about reinventing the wheel of heavy rock, but they roll that wheel in a way that’s expressive and their own, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed that kick in the ass, so thanks. Don’t look for it tomorrow, but I’ll have a review of the album here sooner or later. Honestly, this was more about appreciating the chance to witness a friend kill it in the band’s native habitat, which I was fortunate to do.
Kombynat Robotron
I hit the spritzcannon hard before their set. Had to happen. You could see a rainbow in the spray. I wasn’t quite soaked, but it was worth putting my bag down and standing there for an earth-minute or two, though soon enough it was back at it for Kombynat Robotron. The ascendant heavy space/cosmic rockers are set to issue their new album, AANK, next month — more homework to put in my notes file; not complaining — and if they wanted to put this set out too, that’d be just fine by me. They got the combination of push and swing just right in terms of pace, where you could feel the physical urging of the music within the abiding nod, coming through in a wash of wah with miraculous clarity of intent for something that was so noisy and open-feeling. They had some bliss on offer as well, but once the forward momentum was locked in, so pretty much immediately, it held for the duration. I’d been too in my own head the day before. Getting lost in Kombynat Robotron for a while was refreshing in a different way than having droplets of water launched at my person, but refreshing just the same to stop measuring time in planetary terms. I’m not sure if I enjoyed more the raw moments in Kombynat Robotron — because for sure there are riffs in there — or the tonal wash into which they sometimes veered during the set, but fortunately, there’s zero need for me to choose between them. They were dead on, and I came away with a better understanding of how they work as a group. Total win of a bend for reality.
Highway Child
The heavy underground has a long memory, and though Denmark’s Highway Child broke up 14 years ago in 2011 after the release of their self-titled third album, the heavy underground also loves a redemption story, so Highway Child were here and are at a couple other spots this summer. It’s not the five-week comeback tour or anything, but though there’s been a generational turnover since, they would play to an audience who knew and appreciated their work. So far as I know, that’s is the ideal when you’re doing something like this. They put out two records on Elektrohasch, 2008’s On the Old Kings Road (review here, discussed here) and 2009’s Sanctuary Come (review here), right as the label was starting to hit its arguable peak, so yes, I remembered them too, though I’d never seen them before. Rooted in heavy blues, with a swagger that’s apparently been lying in wait for the better part of a decade and a half, they had folks dancing in the sun out front and were a party all on their own on stage as well. Not a band I ever thought I’d see, and not one I’d be likely to catch otherwise. Figures I’d get all emotional on the last day of the fest. Hard not to.
Travo
Let the party continue. From Portugal, Travo turned heads with late-2023’s Astromorph God (review here) and have been spreading the word live since. The KEXP session earlier this year probably helped in that regard too, feather in their collective cap as it was. Even the line check was brash, but that was nothing compared to once they got going. Leaning more into space rock — I’d say neospace, as I do sometimes, but it didn’t feel quite right, despite all the rampant modernity of the wash they set above the classic pulsations of the drums — they had a solid foundation of heavy tone on which to dance, and set themselves to doing exactly that. If you’ve been reading this site for a while, or even a day, you probably already know there’s little I enjoy more than agreeing with myself. Also disagreeing! But man, I was so right to be excited to see Travo. I may not have been able to hang in the sun, but I found a spot for the whole set after taking pictures and set up camp by which I mean put my bag down, for the duration and they hit hard, digging in with all-go energy and a succession of rad effects-topped builds, voice intermittently punching its way through all the shove surrounding. They made me want me coffee, dared to mellow a bit, and ended with the biggest big-rock-finish I’ve caught here so far.
Wucan
With a new album due in August titled Axioms — it’ll be the Dresden four-piece’s fifth LP — Wucan took the stage to herald the release with due veteranly confidence, and held off breaking out either the flute or the theremin (both firsts) until after the first song, which seems classy somehow. A strong thread of heavy ’10s boogie running through their songwriting, but like many who took that path, Wucan are less about vintageism than broadening a palette of classic, heavy and progressive rock. I’ll admit it’s been a while since I last heard them, but the vibe was sleek and the crowd ate it up as perhaps they inevitably would. The longest day of the year still had plenty of sunshine left in it, but the lawn was packed, somebody had an inflatable flying V, which was fun, and Wucan made sticking it out worthwhile, strut or shuffle or twist. The political complexities of stage outfits notwithstanding, Wucan were an unmitigated good time, with melodies and groove they reached out directly to the crowd and hooked people in. I was curious how much of what they played was new as they touched on space rock about halfway through the set, but this too was fair game for the expanded reach of their sound. I’ll be interested to hear where the album goes.
The Devil and the Almighty Blues
This was my third time seeing Norway’s The Devil and the Almighty Blues, after Høstsabbat in Oslo in 2019 (the before-time) and in 2017 at Roadburn in the Netherlands. In January, if all goes according to my evil plans, I’ll see them again at Planet Desert Rock Weekend in Las Vegas. Good thing they rule. The 2019 show was in support of what’s still their most recent record, Tre (review here), and to their credit, vocalist Arnt O. Andersen still came out fully robed like a misfit drunkard priest, even in the heat of the lingering day. Much respect for that, never mind that they opened with “Salt the Earth.” While I might’ve known what to expect going in, unlike with so many of the bands this weekend who’ve been new to me (life bonus to learn), that didn’t make the going any less satisfying. Their self-titled debut (review here) turns 10 this year, but they wear the years easily in the fluidity of their groove, the way they’re both reverent and transgressive of the (almighty) blues, as well as classic heavy rock and probably three or four other microgenres. I could go on about that characteristic nuance — might be fun — but was content to bask in the comedowns and the pickups and follow where they led. To bottom-line it for you, if you’re somewhere this band is, ever, you want to see them. It’s as simple as that, and I’m grateful for the chances I’ve had (and will have) to do so. They capped with a crescendo of dually shredding guitar solos from Peter Svee and Torgeir Waldemar Engen, then still turned it back to the verse to get a couple last lines in. See them.
Scott Hepple and the Sun Band
Their name started appearing in fest announcements last Fall, and not that I’ve heard of every band who plays a given festival — obviously; seeing new bands was the thing all weekend — but there was definitely a curiosity there. They put out two self-released LPs before getting picked up by Rise Above/Popclaw, and if there’s ever been an ear you could trust, it’s Lee Dorrian’s. They’re young, steeped in garage rock and some sweet proto-heavy shuffle. Thick enough in tone to call heavy, but fleet in being able to keep things moving. The fact that the van has broken down, delaying their arrival here and relocating their set from the main stage to the smaller one earned them some sympathy points, but the truth is they didn’t need them. They pulled the crowd over from the (other) lawn and packed the small stage area where I’ve been hiding in the shade the whole day. I’m sure they sold some records after the set, and hopefully they can keep momentum on their side.
Dead Meadow
When you absolutely need to mellow the vibe, accept no substitutes. Dead Meadow, also fresh off releasing Voyager to Voyager (review here) this Spring on Heavy Psych Sounds, lost bassist Steve Kille to cancer last year. With founding principle Jason Simon on guitar/vocals and I’m pretty sure Mark Laughlin on drums, they did indeed have bass, but I don’t know who was providing it. The sound was there though, that warmth of bottom end that puts your brain in a bathtub. And Simon’s strum, fuzz, quiet-voiced delivery were as immersive as one would hope, so although Kille contributed to the new record, and regularly recorded the band as well, they sound like they’ll continue, which I take as good news. There’s still more day to go, but the chill was infectious, even at their most active. They’re not the inventors of heavygaze, but they might as well be, and frankly, the world needs the kind of drift they bring. So much of this era is intensity, furious, raging. Algorithms. Fascism. Dead Meadow fit just right by going the other way completely, and with Lance Gordon of Mad Alchemy’s oil lightshow, the psychedelia in their sound came through as a multi-sensory experience. They’re still a thrill to watch live, but it’s a quiet thrill. I was quietly thrilled accordingly.
Bushfire
Look, I already reviewed Bushfire once, but having seen and heard half the new record earlier in the day, I wasn’t about to miss the other half, not the least as it includes “Valley of the Freak,” which is about this fest and the people here. Bushfire played the first however-many years of Freak Valley, were a staple of those lineups, but kind of stepped back. Having them present their new full-length, even in two halves, felt fitting. They had a screen in front of the stage before they went on with an animated ouroboros, but took the screen away before they actually started. The projection stayed on and the effect worked. I assume some of those standing by me over by the craftbierhaus and the stage had seen Bushfire before, but I hadn’t until today.
The Sword
I could not tell you when the last time I saw The Sword was, but the prevailing memory I have of them live is wandering into a Relapse Records showcase at SXSW in their hometown of Austin, Texas, and watching a demo riff band lay waste to a show that I’m pretty sure featured Cephalic Carnage later on, but don’t quote me on that, because I was drunk and the only thing I remember for sure was The Sword throwing down a gauntlet for what was then the next generation of heavy rock. The ensuing 21 years and a breakup later (hooray for me, being old), The Sword have returned and claimed their place once again among headlining acts. Their evolution can be charted across their records, but on stage it was more about them being back, good times, and so on. Again, I didn’t stick around (I fly out early tomorrow afternoon and it’s two hours to Frankfurt airport), but I got to hear “Freya,” and that’s always a blast, and I put on the Rockpalast stream when I got back to the room to watch the end, and zero regrets. They seemed to be picking up where they left off, maybe a little more into it for the time away — to wit, they didn’t sound like they were about to break up — and definitely appreciative of the crowd. The Sword are among the most revered US heavy rock bands of the last 25 years, easily, and it’s a boon to the genre that they’re back at it.
—
I can’t believe how fucking ridiculously fortunate I am. It is beyond silly. Like I said once already, or like 10 times, I don’t know, it was an early flight in the morning, so I crashed out as quick as I could in order to be up at seven to shower, finish packing, etc. I may or may not have time for a full wrap-up post, but if I end up saying thanks to Jens, Alex, Marcus, Jara, Basti, Volker, Pete, Bill, Judith, Ralf, and all in the backstage for making me feel so welcome.
It’s a long year till FVF 2026 and one never knows what the future will bring, but if you take anything away from the glut of words that have shown up in this space over the previous three days, take that Freak Valley is something very, very special, and it’s not at all a coincidence that it sells out every year as soon as tickets go on sale. And it’s the people that make it. I’m pretty sure Bill said that in “Valley of the Freak.”
So, if I do or don’t have time for a proper epilogue, we’ll see, but as always, thank you to my wife, The Patient Mrs., for making this and everything else possible for me. Thank you to my mother, and to my sister, as always, for their unending, unconditional support.
And thank you for reading. Won’t be the last time this week I say it.
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 28th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Now signed to Fuzz Club Records, Kiel, Germany, cosmic rockers Kombynat Robotron give a rather terrestrial look on the first single from their new album, AANK, riding a noisy riff and blown-out vocals for three minutes where six months ago on Dec. 2024’s West Mata (review here), they could be heard space-kraut jamming through three extended tracks, the shortest of which was 11 minutes long. There are eight tunes on AANK, and I’m willing to bet they’re not all so brief, but change is the order of the universe, and that would seem to apply here as well, as otherworldly as Kombynat Robotron sometimes are.
So, intrigue. Hooray. One is reminded of Dutch heavy psych rockers The Machine, who in the 2010s brought noise rock influences to their riffier context. It doesn’t seem like a huge bridge to cross from one to the other, between noise riffs and heavy riffs — at a certain point, riffs is riffs; and if I can add to that: riff riff riff — but either way, it’s cool to hear their exploration taking on new dimensions.
From the PR wire:
Kombynat Robotron – AANK
FUZZ CLUB RECORDS
Release: 18.07.2025
With driving rhythms, repetitive riffs and spherical soundscapes, Kombynat Robotron create a hypnotic sound that blurs the boundaries between krautrock, psychedelic and noise rock. The Kiel-based trio has been an integral part of the European psychedelic rock scene since its formation in 2018 and stands for raw energy, musical freedom and rampant improvisation.
With six studio albums acclaimed by fans and critics on labels such as Tonzonen Records, Cardinal Fuzz Records, Clostridium Records and Little Cloud Records, as well as various tape and split releases and shows with bands such as Elder, Verstärker and Kungens Män, Kombynat Robotron has made a name for itself as an uncompromising (live) band that carries the spirit of Krautrock into the present day. Whether at international festivals or the stages of small clubs – their live shows are regarded as energetic sound trips where every performance is unique. Kombynat Robotron is not a retrospective – they are pulsating proof that psychedelic rock can still be bold, loud and boundless today.
Now in their seventh year, Kombynat Robotron are back with their seventh studio album. AANK will be released on July 18 via the London-based label FUZZ CLUB RECORDS (home of A Place To Bury Strangers, The Black Angels, King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard and many more), which became aware of the band through a Kombynat show in London in the summer of 2024 and signed the band shortly after.
On AANK, Kombynat Robotron work with vocals and song structures for the first time, moving away from their musical beginnings as an instrumental jam band. Kraut and psychedelic rock can still be found on AANK, but more focused and with more heaviness than in the past. The flowing psychedelic soundscapes of the bands previous records give way to the asphalt of the sound Autobahn. Between Staub and Finsternis, the Kombynat races, noises and rages on a total of eight songs. Heavy noisy walls of sound are build on top of repetitive bass grooves, distant vocals emerge from a sonic landscape that lies between chaos and control.
The Kombynat flies to the stars and presents itself on AANK louder, faster and harder, but also quieter and more thoughtful than ever before. AANK is not an optimistic album, but rather a realistic one. The lyrics revolve around topics such as decay and disintegration, loss (of control) and the eternal struggle with the world.
Recording a whole album with actual songs and vocals might sound strange for a band that has released six albums with instrumental jams before that, but it is the result of a natural development. The songs were mostly formed out of recorded jams that felt too good to let them go and never play them again, and after all songs are just recognized and reproduceable jams.
The band spent about two years of constant work on their new approach towards creating structures and writing songs and did lots of live experiments with the new material. While the songs took some time to take their final form, once they were ready the recording of AANK only took one weekend. The band set up their equipment at Kulturzentrum Karnak, a small venue in Kassel in the middle of Germany. Together with recording engineer Felix Margraf they managed to capture the spirit of their raw live energy by recording everything live, together in one room.
AANK reflects the musical development on Kombynat Robotron from hippie-esque psychedelic space music to fuzzed-out noise krautrock and embraces its influences by creating something new. Musik für das Ohr der Zukunft. Robotron over.
Posted in Reviews on January 3rd, 2025 by JJ Koczan
The album sets its theme around the sea, which is fair enough, but if you find yourself drawn toward the sky, cosmos or some kind of other otherworldly landscape during the 40 minutes of West Mata, one could hardly blame Kombynat Robotron. At a certain point, expanse is expanse. Recorded in Spring 2023 at ZFML with Kio Krabbenhöft helming (Felix Margraf mixed and mastered), West Mata takes place over three extended tracks, beginning with the longest (immediate points) “Jason II” (21:54) on side A before “Vasa” (6:57) and “Trieste” (11:36) take hold across side B and setting out on a textured course of mindful drift in its initial going. Guitarist Jannes Ihnen echoes out across mellowpsych reaches, a tonal shimmer having emerged from a cocoon of drone gradually in the first couple minutes, and bassist Claas Ogorek and drummer Thomas Handschick — both also of the more crush-minded Earthbong — give the groove cohesion without taking away from the fluidity, which is an obvious priority for an album that, at some point or other, the band decided was about water.
As much fun as it can be and often is to accede to the whims of an album like West Mata, with a stated expressive purpose, the fact of the matter is that the subject being instrumentally explored can’t be effectively conveyed without real world chemistry underlying. That is to say, it wouldn’t matter what the songs were about if the songs didn’t take the listener anywhere. However, West Mata is duly transportive. “Jason II” doesn’t ever have the outward arrogance to be sweeping, but the howling guitar and residual distorted rumblings, the casual tap of the ride and snare acting as aural emulsifier, are so smooth that by the time Kombynat Robotron are eight minutes in, the pictures are vivid. A re-mellowing brings warmth of low end beneath a sparser lead layer, and though the song is only half over circa 10:45, what’s been laid out at that point is a single procession of slow movement. If you told me it was about the galaxial orbit or the superposition of quantum states, I don’t think I’d be able to fight you and say, “No way, boss! It’s the ocean!” with more than their say-so to back me up. Granted that’s not nothing, but six LPs and however-many whatever-elses later — earlier in 2024, they took part in a four-way split (review here) for Worst Bassist Records, for example — Kombynat Robotron aren’t so closed in the evocations on a sheer sonic level.
This sounds like a critique of the band, or like I’m saying they didn’t accomplish their goal in basing West Mata around the sea. I’m not saying that at all. I’m just saying that whether you think “Jason II” is about horror flicks or Argonauts, there’s room in the material itself for your interpretation. Kombynat Robotron have an open, jam-based approach to psychedelia, and West Mata is rich in atmosphere as well as tone. If you didn’t know “Vasa” was named for a 17th century Swedish shipwreck or “Trieste” for the first vessel to submerge into the Mariana Trench, or indeed that the album itself is named for a chain of active volcanoes near the Pacific Island of Tonga, you can probably still appreciate the serenity with which “Jason II” (perhaps named for a model of submersible) contemplates its back half, or the transition to a more physical rhythm in “Vasa,” or the noisier crux of “Trieste.”
This is not a weakness. West Mata is what it was intended to be, and more. A given listener’s choice whether or not to engage with the thematic will invariably play into how they hear the material — the power of suggestion is always a factor, but on general principle, you won’t hear me rag on a band for the decision to apply narrative to their work — and however they go, the point is that Kombynat Robotron are headed out.
With a progression between its songs that moves from the least to arguably the most active material — if you want to quibble on “active” between the boogie of “Vasa” and the scorch of “Trieste,” I’ll cite the careening, daring-toward-abrasive finish of the latter as the noisiest and busiest stretch included among the three cuts — there is a strong sense of a plan at work, but at no point in West Mata are Kombynat Robotron too heavy-handed in it. There are changes, of course, as one part evolves into the next and the personality of a work begins to take shape, and each piece seems to reset before it begins its own plunge, but movement overarching is from a minimal sound to a wash (you bet your ass I intended that pun), and that linearity lends a distinctive set of purpose to the proceedings, heady though it is. But it’s okay. Somehow I think if you can put up with reading this review up to this point, ‘heady’ won’t be too much of a threat to keep you from enjoying a 40-minute long-player. Just speculating.
In the interest of honesty, and maybe this came through in the discussion above whether I wanted it to or not, I let go of the watery foundation pretty quickly with West Mata. I tend to think of a style like Kombynat Robotron‘s on more cosmic terms — and for sure the band are no stranger to those — and that’s where my head went, with “Trieste” boasting a somewhat darker ambience as it departs the cacophony to leave residual drone and amplifier hum. Whether that’s the last thing you hear before you fall in the singularity or come up to the surface with the ocean on all sides, the album holds up. That isn’t necessarily a surprise for Kombynat Robotron, who’ve been at it with all due proficiency to suit a genre existing well outside of normal spacetime for eight years or so, but it does account for the surehanded guidance they provide to the mediation in sound happening here. And if you take that mediation in a different direction, I can’t imagine anybody’s gonna yell at you. No one is going to say you’re wrong. Have your own experience. I got away with it so far.
