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.
Posted in Whathaveyou on November 20th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
You ever put on the wrong record? Well, yesterday, I had the wrong record on, and it wasn’t until I stopped it and put on Kombynat Robotron‘s upcoming three-song LP West Mata instead that I realized it. The German cosmic-jam expeditionists — who share members with the more plundering but also longform-prone Earthbong — will release the album Dec. 6 through a multinational consortium that includes Cardinal Fuzz, Little Cloud Records and Clostridium Records. It’s not an insignificant amount of support for an instrumental improv-based space rock outfit, but I mean, I get it. Maybe West Mata was the right record for all of them too.
No public audio yet, but the release date’s Dec. 6, so coming around quick. Preorders are up from everybody, and the links are below. The PR wire brings more about the record’s aquatic theme:
Kombynat Robotron – West Mata – Release: Dec 6th 2024
West Mata is the 6th studio record by Kiel/Germany based Psych/Krautrockband Kombynat Robotron. The release of this album is the result of a cooperation between Clostridium Records (Germany), Cardinal Fuzz Records (UK) and Little Cloud Records (USA).
After their space-themed record -270°C (2021) and the following, earth-themed record Frohe Zukunft (2023) Kombynat Robotron are closing the circle with the waterthemed West Mata.
With a total length of about 50 minutes split in three tracks the band returns to their long-form jam-based approach to songwriting on West Mata.
For thousands of years, the sea has been both a place of longing and an antagonist for mankind and, despite being fully explored, it still resists all of mankind’s efforts and technical sophistications. The eternal continuity of the sea is taken up as a musical motif by all three tracks on West Mata. Seemingly stoic and unchanging, the rhythm undulates in the depths and yet every moment is full of change and movement on the surface.
In 21 minutes, Jason 2 unfolds it’s wings like a manta ray and takes us from Greek mythology to modern satellite technology: silvery sound surfaces that merge in silent agreement, come together to form the same and yet always different shapes, disappear and emerge again.
A look into the depths belies the impression of timelessness, because the history of exploring and mastering the seas is always also a history of hubris and failure. The wreck of the Vasa, which sank on its maiden voyage almost 400 years ago due to a design flaw, had not yet been recovered when the Titanic sank in 1912 after colliding with an iceberg. A story, a motif, told in ever-changing variations. It has always been the same, same old story.
With Trieste the album finally plunges into the endless depths of the ocean. The movement forward is a movement downwards, driven by the belief that there is something to be discovered and understood even in the most hostile environment. We can just hope that the steel shell can withstand the pressure that increases with every meter and hope we can catch a glimpse of the abyss before the abyss looks back in us. Get in and look into the depths.
Das Album will be released in three different vinyl editions:
Posted in Whathaveyou on October 14th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
First names are out for Freak Valley 2025, and though I wouldn’t take the invitation for granted, it does warm my heart to think of The Devil and the Almighty Blues bringing their heavy preach to the AWO grounds in Netphen, standing on that stage, introduced by the esteemed Volker Fröhmer with a hearty “viel spaß!” or seeing the horn-laced shenanigans of Pendejo, the classic doom metal roll of Early Moods or the cosmic futurism of Kombynat Robotron, Travo who I never thought I’d ever see, ever, but whose record I very much dug, and Zig Zags, Wedge, Lurch and Scott Hepple and the Sun Band.
Richmond, Virginia’s Windhand — who just released a demo collection on Creep Purple called Songs From the Satan House and whose bassist, Parker Chandler (also Cough), quit the band about a week ago with some less than complimentary things to say about his experience — are the top name thus far on the bill, and aside from their needing new low end representation, it seems likely they’ll be at Freak Valley as part of a tour. Could Early Moods or Zig Zags join? It’s possible but not definite. Seems likely The Devil and the Almighty Blues will be on the road as well from their home in Norway, as they’ve also been confirmed for Desertfest London and Desertfest Berlin 2025, as well as Sonic Whip 2025, after playing Desertfest Oslo and others this year.
If they end up filling the dates between fests with club shows, that’s a fair amount of touring without a new record, so maybe Spring will bring news of a new The Devil and the Almighty Blues as well, or maybe those guys have just hit the point where they can show up for whatever reason and there’s a slot for them. If you’ve ever seen them live, that’s wholly justified.
Either way, a lot to like here in the variety, in the names themselves, and in the thought of taking in another wonderful weekend standing in the grass at Freak Valley, which is starting to feel an awful lot like a home when I get back each year. Hopefully that includes 2025 as well. Here’s the announcement, which I would usually have written, but I whiffed on because of the Quarterly Review. I’ll try and catch the next one if they’ll let me. Text and poster hit socials on Friday:
🌵 Get ready, Freaks! 🌵
The countdown to Freak Valley Festival 2025 has officially begun, and we’re beyond stoked to announce the first wave of bands set to blow your minds and melt your faces!
Brace yourselves for the crushing doom of Windhand, the blues-drenched heaviness of The Devil and the Almighty Blues, and the psychedelic thunder of Wucan! If that wasn’t enough, we’re cranking up the intensity with the raw power of. ¡Pendejo! , the crushing riffs of Early Moods, and the punk/metal chaos of Zig Zags.
But that’s just the beginning! Prepare to lose yourself in the cosmic grooves of Kombynat Robotron, get wild with the retro rock of Wedge, and let Travo, Lurch, and Scott Hepple and The Sun Band take you on mind-bending sonic journeys.
This is just the start, so get ready for more epic announcements soon. Mark your calendars, tune your ears, and prepare for the freakiest weekend of the year. Freak Valley 2025 is coming… and it’s going to be legendary!
See you in the valley! 🤘
Regular Tickets will first be available 14.October at Die Tintenpatrone in Siegen-Weidenau
[Click play above to stream International Space Station Vol. 2 in full. The split is out Aug. 20 on Worst Bassist, Weird Beard and Echodelick Records.]
In addition to being the most expensive thing ever built, the International Space Station is the most resounding proof ever manifest of the potential for what humanity can accomplish when we, in even momentary or compartmentalized fashion, put aside our differences and genuinely collaborate. Human potential, circling the planet above our heads every 90 minutes or so. Worst Bassist Records (Germany/EU), working in conjunction with Weird Beard Records (UK) and Echodelick Records (US), offers the second installment of its split series, International Space Station Vol. 2, both in tribute and in some of the same cooperative spirit. Like its 2022 predecessor, International Space Station Vol. 1 (review here), the assemblage features four bands, including the Americans Verstärker, from Kentucky, as well as Kombynat Robotron (from Germany), Speck (from Austria) and Sarkh (from Germany). It’s not quite the same as Europe, Russia, Canada and America spending billions of dollars to construct the ISS itself, module by module, but as one would hope, each band brings something of their own to the overarching scope of International Space Station Vol. 2, while keeping to the abiding space rock theme, in essence if not necessarily genre tropes. It’s cosmic one way or the other, to be sure.
As with Vol. 1, each band on Vol. 2 is given a side to work with to make a full 72-minute 2LP. Verstärker lead off and bring the first of the split’s delves into krautrock across “Weltraumtraum” (12:16) and “Kvant” (5:46), the latter of which is an immersive, multi-tiered drone that gradually emerges from the second half of “Weltraumtraum.” The two are likewise exploratory, if in different ways, as the first cut starts out with a more urgent gallop on drums and a bassline that keeps it cool but still moves, guitar feeling out the spaces in the swirl. A boogie takes hold until about four and a half minutes in, where the change marked by a stop of drums leads to a heavier outbound thrust. About force more than escape velocity, the next two minutes of push give over to mellower bassy jamming and guitar effects floating overhead, a little ghostly, but there. The drums keep the tension so that when “Weltraumtraum” starts to build back up it makes sense, and even after the crescendo, until just about 10 minutes in, the drums hold out amid the residual synth and guitar echoes. Once they go, it’s the sci-fi drone of “Kvant” all the way — an initial and not at all last hypnotic stretch as International Space Station Vol. 2 broadens its reach.
Kombynat Robotron bring a reset at the start of their lone inclusion “Montan” (15:31) and answer the proggy flow of Verstärker‘s longer piece with an easy movement of their own. Shimmering guitar over a krautrock groove probably shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone familiar with the band, this split series, or the style more generally, but Kombynat Robotron bring a Yawning–Man-in-space sensibility to the guitar work and subtle gotta-go of the rhythm. A crash and stop at five minutes in marks the divergence from where they’ve been to where they’re going, which is to a more actively swirling solo section, with crash cymbal adding to the build as they move further into the maybe-improvised unknown. Howls and wails circa 8:20 preface a pickup in the toms, and the Kiel trio carry their procession in willfully, increasingly noisy style across its back half, such that when it ends with a feedbackscape, it makes sense, feeling all the more vibrant and nebular in their fusing of elements. As the only band with one song here — everyone else does a long one and a short one, like Verstärker — Kombynat Robotron still use their time well to emphasize performance as well as exploration. “Montan” is duly massive as a result.
The immediate impression when Speck set forth with “Flaniergang” (16:03), with “Bes, So Bes” (4:29) following, is cleaner in tone, but it’s the urging motion of the drums that is most consuming. Accompanied by a bassline one might be tempted to call “solid” were it not so utterly liquefied, the drums mark out the path the song will take and give everybody — yes, including you — the chance to get on board before the real takeoff. That comes shortly after three minutes in as the guitar comes forward and the groove opens up with chugging interstellar build. Hints of heavy psych melodicism persist in the guitar, and that’ll do quite nicely, thank you, but Speck bring the proceedings back down for a quick refueling ahead of the next launch, which comes in short order. It’s not the last either — they sneak in a third redirect in the last two minutes that makes “Flaniergang” even more exciting, capping with feedback that leads directly into the cymbal wash of “Bes, So Bes,” a slow-rolling improv-feeling jaunt into low gravity that isn’t shapeless but which is clear in its less-rigid structure, and at this point in the split, calling something “less rigid” is really saying something.
Given the unenviable task of rounding out the final of the 2LP’s four sides, Sarkh flip the script and put the shorter song first, topping “Helios” (6:17) with a sample in its early going and sweeping in with heavier tones and some of the post-metallic expanse they’ve established as well within their reach. By the time they’re three minutes in, “Helios” is crushing and sprawling in kind, and they continue to set airy post-rock guitar against what in context sounds downright pummeling as the song churns to its purposeful ending, a stretch of low hum making the transition between “Helios” and the concluding “Cape Wrath” (11:37). Terrestrial, if not cavernous in its sound, and once again, remarkably heavy, “Cape Wrath” turns from the patterned riff that begins it, drops the drums and resets for a breath around ambient guitar, and thereby sets out on one big, last build, the payoff of which is your explanation for why Sarkh appear last on International Space Station Vol. 2 — once you go in the black hole, there’s no getting back out. It’s okay though, because as gravitational as they get, Sarkh retain enough presence and intentionality to bring “Cape Wrath” to a close with a change to sparse standalone guitar, not unlike that which set out that build to begin with.
And really, who knows where or when that was. On the cosmic-web-defined, impossible-to-comprehend-by-our-bacteria-brains scales of time and space in the universe, International Space Station and the structure that inspired the series in the first are — like everything else human beings have ever done and likely will ever do — small achievements, but they share that aspect of realized potential, and like the different sections of the ISS being assembled in orbit some 255 miles above the surface of the planet, each band’s material adds to the complexity of what’s portrayed by the whole, which is a fresh, multidimensional space rock that speaks no less to an optimistic future. The eons-long course of civilization’s history has wrought little that is more worth celebrating, and International Space Station Vol. 2 feels suitably reverent.
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 24th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
I know I’ve said this before, but I continue to believe there’s something extra rad about a four-way split. Two, generally pretty cool, but often leads to a sense of one band competing with the other or at least a tendency on the part of the listener to compare them, which is just the same thing from the other side. Three, well fine as long as you don’t have any intention toward vinyl. But a four-way 2LP split breaks up in a satisfying way, as everybody gets to showcase their aural wares on their own side, and there’s usually enough breadth of personality between the four bands that the listener is more inclined to take everything as it comes. As Worst Bassist Records showed with three first installment of the four-way split series International Space Station (review here) in 2022, ‘take it as it comes’ is precisely the best way to go in hearing it.
Jointly released through Weird Beard Records in the UK and Echodelick Records in the US, and I believe available to preorder from all of them, International Space Station Vol. 2 once again brings together an intercontinental assemblage in Verstärker (from the US, despite the maybe-misleading umlaut), Kombynat Robotron and Sarkh (from Germany), and Speck (from Austria), and everybody but Kombynat Robotron already has a song streaming. And Kombynat Robotron aren’t being jerks or holdouts or whathaveyou, but they’ve only got one song on their side. Fair enough up keep it under wraps for now.
If you do want to hear that — and we both know you do — come back Aug. 19, as I’ll be streaming the album in full that day with what I’m sure will be a duly slobbering review full of obscure Star Trek references and cosmic buzzwords picked up from the PBS S0ace Time science videos my daughter watches with ironically religious fervor. So it’ll be awesome, in other words.
For now, art, info and copious linkage follow. Engage:
The long awaited vol. 2 of the Intrernational Space Station arrives!
2-LP in a fat gatefold cover, colored wax, limited to 500 LP 1: orange wax LP 2: blue wax CD in digisleeve lim. 100
Four international bands (Verstärker, Kombynat Robotron, Speck, Sarkh) contributing 1 LP side each, instrumental, about how to watch the ISS crossing their skies from time to time… or being overwhelmed by the rough beauty of the ocean…
Long and psychedelic tracks pulsating through space and try to follow the way of the space station around our globe and even beyond, to contribute you the opportunity to travel through your inner cosmosis while listening, only interrupted by the needle lifting, which could just be some stops at random interstellar stations, to release and gain passengers.
2-LP in a fat gatefold cover, colored wax, limited to 500 LP 1: orange wax LP 2: blue wax
Out via Worst Bassist (DE+World), Echodelick (USA) and Weird Beird (UK) August 20th 2024 Comes with Download Code
CD out via Worst Bassist on Aug. 20th.
Verstärker
Verstärker from Kentucky, USA, play monotonic motorik sound, surrounded by soundscapes and beautiful noise.
Groove, shifts, scapes, beauty, intensity, it’s all there.
Kombynat Robotron
Germany’s high flying neo-krautrockers continue on side B with their floating and dynamic longtrack.
Speck
Side C kicks off with Austria’s instrumental psychedelic mantra jammers Speck, who created a journey through mind and space until…
Sarkh
… the ISS takes another turn over Germany and brings you a force of nature to end all this, with side D.
You’ll be torn apart and re-built again through the heavy and yet delightful instrumentals.
