The second Kariti full-length, Dheghom, releases tomorrow, Feb. 2, through Lay Bare Recordings. The 11-song LP is the Russian-born-Italy-residing polylingual dark atmospheric folk singer-songwriter’s first for the Dutch imprint, and it brings 43 minutes of new material that greatly expand the context wrought for Kariti — née Katerina, also stylized all-lowercase: kariti — by her 2020 debut, Covered Mirrors (review here). While still able to offer the voice-on-tape minimalism of some of the first album’s loneliest fare, Dheghom broadens the reach of Kariti‘s arrangements, such that the quiet electric guitar on the harmonized highlight “Vilomah” that brings a duet with Dorthia Cottrell of Windhand (and her own solo work) and the keyboard-driven “A Mare Called Night” that gets its instrumental answer at the end of the proceedings in closer “So Without, ” the title of which bookends with in-Russian spoken intro “As Within,” as Kariti translates that spoken poem to English, switching languages throughout no less fluidly than she leads “Reckoning” with piano and the subsequent “Metastasis” with electric guitar.
“Emerald Death” touches on Irish folk traditions and pairs its melody with harsh distorted strums of guitar in true doom-folk style, which picks up from the surprisingly-full-band-sounding “River of Red,” with drums and a darkly progressive exploration that feels consistent with the rest of Dheghom, even if its sad metallurgy is coming from somewhere else than the initially-largely-empty “Son,” which Katerina‘s voice easily carries in layers before it shifts into its more distorted second half drone. Goth plays a big role as “Reckoning” follows “Vilomah,” with flourish of strings to coincide with its steady piano line, less foreboding than “Metastasis” still to come, but consistent in its downerist melodic spirit. Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony gets referenced at the outset of “Sanctuary,” but the song itself is moved elsewhere by its vocals, harmonized in a kind of American folkishness far removed from any sense of twang. The point is underscored with a plains-rumble of piano near the finish, from which “River of Red” picks up and transitions smoothly to its fuller arrangement before giving over to “Toll,” which is 41 seconds of bells — because what else — before the keyboard of “So Without” brings Dheghom full circle with ethereal operatics backing the lead vocal line and a sense of warning that’s almost cultish as presented.
Certainly Covered Mirrors had its sense of adventurousness, but it was also the launch point for Kariti as a project and the fact that it existed was part of the adventure. Dheghom is a genuine branching out of intent and composition, a different way of constructing songs around ideas for what they need and/or want to express. And because the backdrop she’s working with is still largely minimal — to wit, only “River of Red” has drums — each tweak in arrangement throughout has an impact on the material and the scope of the whole outing, even as they cast her voice in the role of unifying the songs, which it does without trouble. Affecting emotionally and striking in its reach, it’s Kariti‘s vocals and sometimes bleak melodicism that give Dheghom such a sense of personality amid its complexities, and whether it’s a flourish of keys, the strings on “Reckoning” or Cottrell showing up on “Vilomah,” there’s never a pivot made that removes the album from what feels like its intended course. That that would coincide with such a significant uptick in attention to detail makes Dheghom all the more of a triumph, even if it’s too morose to outwardly enjoy its own accomplishments.
The expansion of the collaboration with guitarist Marco Matta (also Grime) and engineer Lorenzo Della Rovere likewise feels organic and purposeful, helping to build Dheghom up as a showcase of Wovenhand-style go-anywhereism that nonetheless retains its crafted feel. And while it seems safe to imagine Katerina would keep that collaborative thread going on a third Kariti LP when and if she gets there — note she put out an EP with the experimentalist Néant last year; some of that attitude seems to have bled into Kariti — I find I’m less comfortable predicting where she might go sound-wise than I was coming off of Covered Mirrors. This, despite a style that’s almost entirely balanced toward the subdued, is one of the most exciting reasons to be a fan of an artist, and Dheghom is sure to pull more of those into Kariti‘s sphere as well. I think I might be one too.
Dheghom, accompanied by PR wire info, streams in full below.
Please enjoy:
kariti (карити) – ‘to mourn the dead’ in church Slavonic – is a Russian-born artist based in Italy. Her debut ‘Covered Mirrors’ was released in September 2020 by the cult Italian label Aural Music (Negură Bunget, Imperial Triumphant, Messa) and represents a ‘cathartic peregrination through bereavement’. Marco, the leader of the heavy sludge outfit Grime contributes to some of the songs and often joins kariti for live performances.
In September 2023, an industrial/trip-hop/shoegaze s/t EP was released under the moniker Néant – a collaboration between kariti and Void of the anonymous Parisian industrial sludge collective Non Serviam.
kariti’s next record will see the light on February 2, 2024 courtesy of the independent forward-thinking Dutch label Lay Bare Recordings (Frayle, Thief (ex-Botanist), Yawning Man), focussed on high-quality vinyl releases, and sees a notable development in sound, songwriting and instrumentation used: apart from electric guitars it features various synthesizers, analogue piano, strings by Jon K (live Cough, Dorthia Cottrell), a song with drums and bass, multiple contributions of Marco (Grime, Simian Steel) on guitar/noise, and a haunting duet with Dorthia Cottrell (Windhand, solo).
kariti’s atmosferic mournful ‘ambient folk’ is recommended to those who enjoy ‘dark explorations accompanied by the smell of burning wood and the moonlight reflecting off snow’ delivered through profound lyrical content. kariti toured Europe several times, shared the stage with Messa, Grift, Conny Ochs, Plum Green among others, and recently was invited by Brutus to open the Italian leg of their tour. her intense live shows have been described as liturgy-like and cathartic and the touring schedule for 2024 is in the works upon the release of Dheghom.
Posted in Whathaveyou on November 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Kudos to Italian dark folk singer-songwriter Kariti — generally stylized lowercase: kariti — on signing to Lay Bare Recordings for the release of her second album, Dheghom, in Feb. 2024. The project debuted with 2020’s Covered Mirrors (review here) and produced the grim offshoot Néant with a self-titled EP, and some of the depth of arrangement brought to that outfit seems to have bled into Kariti as well.
I was fortunate enough to hear some demos earlier this year for songs that will presumably be on the record (one never knows until it shows up, and it’s early for that yet), and while Covered Mirrors was almost sneaky about how much was happening at any given point, there’s a bolder engagement with neo-folk and electronics alike, a bleak ambience rooted in human emotion. I’ve been looking forward to the finished product.
That it will arrive through the Netherlands’ Lay Bare Recordings is a boon for Dheghom, and I’ll hope to have more as we get closer to the release. For today, there’s a teaser below that hints at spaciousness to be manifest, and at 90 seconds is a little more substantial than ‘teaser’ generally indicates. I feel like usually they’re about a third as long, but here you get enough to actually dip your head in and immerse, if briefly.
Every little bit counts, right? I’m sure there will be another announcement with the album details, cover, probably a single and all that kind of normal got-a-record-coming stuff, but as Kariti heraldsDheghom — the name taken from the Mother Earth goddess of proto-Indo-European mythology — with this signing and the short clip, the message to keep an eye and/or ear out comes through clearly. Can do.
From the PR wire:
Dheghom will be released on February 2nd, 2024 on Lay Bare recordings, video by Damiano Tommasi.
Says Kariti: “Dheghom is an attempt to write about some things i can’t necessarily understand or even feel, but have a lot of feelings about, it is as eclectic musically as it is focalized in terms of lyrical themes and the meanings they bare. i had to be patient and wait for a very long time to let it out, my appreciation to Désirée for doing this with me goes beyond any words.”
Says Désirée Hanssen of Lay Bare Recordings: “Hearing the voice of ekaterina from карити (kariti) made an instant connection with my heart and my skin. It was hard not to engage with her captivating blend of powerful vocals, engaging melodies, and evocative poems. kariti’s mix of intimate, stripped-down mourning folk songs with crisp sounding instruments and eerie harmonies creates a unique and emotional experience.
“The impact of kariti’s voice is evident, draws you as a listener into it and makes it easy to connect with the depth of her music and words. kariti’s resonant vocal tone adds a distinctive and profound quality to her music. It’s fascinating how a singer’s voice can shape the emotional experience of a song.
“Lay Bare Recordings is beyond thrilled to welcome kariti to the label and to collaborate on releasing her upcoming album. Incredibly exciting to walk the path of this rich and diverse musical experience together.”
Posted in Questionnaire on November 14th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Rob Zim of Rrrags
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I play the bass. As a teenager the only videotape I had was the Who’s Tommy (apart from some porn of course). I must have seen it at least 100 times. Entwistle’s enchantingly playful and creative bass lines made me play the bass. I remember every single note, I wish I had half his talent.
Ron from Rrrags has been a long time friend and I played in several bands with him before. We always went to the Roadburn Festival and stayed over at our friend Bidi, who is unfortunately not with us anymore, through whom we met Rob Martin. We decided to jam together and the satisfying outcome was the base for Rrrags. It is fun to play with Rrrags since there is a lot of space for improvisation and every concert is an adventure.
Describe your first musical memory.
Roger Glover’s ‘All you Need is Love and Understanding’ was, I believe, the first animated videoclip in the early/mid seventies when I was about three years old. When it was on television I pushed my face to the screen and immersed in the music and visuals. There was a singing frog, I loved it so much. Only 30 years later I found out the singer was Ronnie James Dio, which was also the first metal concert I went to as a teenager. That was weird.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
As a musician, playing Hellfest for 10.000 people was cool. But playing an improvised 75 minute Kraut/jazz/psychedelic jam session for a few hundred people on the Roadburn 2022 festival with my friend Ron from Rrrags and Ingvald and Ask from Kanaan was a highlight in my career. We had played two nights with Rrrags already and I was already home and all my gear loaded out when they phoned me to come back and do the gig. The audience was pretty baked from three days Roadburn and it went down very well, a full house was really digging what we did. Of course we did not record it, even though we were prompted by Roadburn’s house recording technician Marcel van der Vondervoort. We still forgot and maybe it is better like this, probably in the memory it’s better than the reality haha.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
I have hardly any principles and and can relativize almost anything but my belief in evolving intelligence is tested on a daily basis.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I don’t think art progresses to a higher level. Rather it meanders parallel to life and changes and reshapes accordingly. I have the feeling that art is quite immersed in daily life at the moment. Advertisement videos are weirder than video art 30 years ago and a lot of street art is more exiting than modern art in galleries. It is easy to express yourself, due to software like GarageBand and photoshop/illustrator and AI filters and apps on the smartphone. Art is utilitarian and not idealistic. It doesn’t lead to a better life or something.
How do you define success?
I think to be successful is to get recognition, for being good at doing what you are passionate about. This can start already on a tiny scale, with few people.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Anything of U2. I have an allergy.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I explored all of the arts I am interested in quite extensively already and kind of did what I wanted to do. That is quite a relaxing situation to be in. No Ambition, No Frustration is my motto. I just want to make and play music but that is nothing I did not do yet.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
For me the Only function of art is to levitate one’s mind somewhere where there is no troubles and challenges, only ecstasy. Art does that, it can make you forget about all your problems. Especially music since it hits you unconditionally, it needs no explanation or context. For me music is the highest form of art.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
I look forward to my next voyage. Don’t know yet whereto it will be but I love travelling.
This Friday, Oct. 20, marks the release of the third Bismut album, Ausdauer (premiere streaming above). A five-tracker being issued through Lay Bare Recordings in the band’s native Netherlands and Spinda Records in Spain, its title translates as ‘endurance’ and in that could be speaking to any number of subjects, from the instrumentalist trio of guitarist Nik Linders, bassist Huibert der Weduwen and drummer Peter Dragt having done the recordings themselves, live, which surely requires more than a bit of stamina, to processing the years since 2020’s Retrocausality (review here), to the war in Europe, now spread to Israel and Palestine. Surely there are no shortage of hardships and tasks and slogs to endure, but from the slow swing in the finishing moments of “Mendalir” through the shoving insistence of closer “Euphoria,” Bismut find places for themselves between ideas of structured heavy rock and more open, at least partially improvised rock-as-jazz jamming, between crunch and stretch, atmosphere and impact.
Retrocausality and their 2018 debut, Schwerpunkt (review here), functioned along similar lines, and a return from esteemed engineer Pieter Kloos (7Zuma7, 35007, The Devil’s Blood, so many more) on mixing and mastering further assures sonic consistency, but while Bismut highlight a sun-reflecting shimmer in the early soloing of “Mendalir” — the first of many of Linders‘ leads that feels exploratory on solid footing — something they’ve never done is to forget about their audience. The live experience — sorry to say I haven’t seen the band — may be central to what Bismut do generally, not the least since they record that way, but they’re still writing songs. Ausdauer isn’t a collection of jams. “Mendalir” coalesces around a riff out of progressive metal delivered with all due force, and moves fleetly through its turn-laced midsection into its final roll and comedown with a sense of plot that makes it that much easier to follow, the opening of “Fuan” — also the shortest cut at 5:55 — sounding like a raw noise rock riff from 1994, because of course.
There are some spacey effects worked in, but “Fuan” builds itself around a grounded-feeling procession that comes to a maddeningly tense head at about the halfway mark before unfolding itself again ahead of a dreamier-echoing solo and a clear turn to improv and percussion from which they make a smooth return a short while later. Effects top a chugging finish like something later Karma to Burn might’ve called an indulgence (it’s not, really) and momentum carries into centerpiece “Despotisme” with a swagger that seems to know what’s coming when the full tonality of the riff kicks in, which is a for-the-stage bounce soon met by an adventure into solo-topped tripping, chug and build and shred and go all sort of slamming together and the math somehow working. Again, the shift from structure to not is discernible — or at least one can be interpreted — but it’s the later ambience/drone of “Despotisme” complementing that relative rush that is affecting, a final note held out perhaps in consideration for the liberal order as the band reinforce the atmospheric thread that’s been subtly woven through Ausdauer from the progressively brooding opening moments of “Mendalir” onward.
Its last echoes fading, “Despotisme” gives over to Dragt‘s drums to start “Mašta,” cycling through a riff with off-the-cuff-sounding flourish before winding through a tense ‘verse’ that even when the guitar disappears holds its anxiety in the low end before they dig into head-down jazzy runs, never actually holding still or even coming close to it, but bringing the song down to near-silence before they gradually raise the volume, coming back up at around six minutes in and hitting decisively into a heavier thrust of riff with the snare punctuating, bass rumbling and guitar spacious in the lead as the bass does some of the melodic work in its place. Stylistically, “Mašta” might be post-post-rock because it’s actually willing to have fun, but its psychedelia is earthly however broad the guitar tone might be, and between that and the organic chemistry of the rhythm section — der Weduwen and Dragt also double in DUNDDW; and indeed, if you had a heavy instrumental psych band, you might want them in it as well — Bismut set up their bookending finale to burst to life over the end of “”Mašta,” an immediate mathiness twisting about 45 seconds in to denser riffing recalling earlier Karma to Burn-ism without actually beings so religiously straightforward.
To wit, “Euphoria” funks out at around 1:30 before returning to its bouncing starts and stops, then moves into a wash of noise before a grand mellowing moves past the halfway mark with quiet brooding in the bass and sparse guitar. You know they’re going to bring it back around. Bismut know they’re going to bring it around. But before they do, the band put themselves in conversation with the likes of early ’00s European instrumentalists and adventurers, Dutch outfits like the already-noted (if parenthetically) 35007 or Astrosoniq, or even Monkey3 from Switzerland; bands whose tenures are marked by a distinctive growth along a charted course. With the caveat of living in a universe of infinite possibility, one would not expect Bismut after Ausdauer to go thrash metal after Ausdauer, but where they reside between heavy rock, jamming, heavy psych and prog, there is plenty of room for them to continue to grow and explore as they’re plainly committed to doing or they wouldn’t improvise at all, let alone on the finished product of an album.
After twisting itself in various sailing knots for the better part of its nine minutes — “Mendalir” (8:59) and “Euphoria” (9:09) bookend as the two longest songs — “Euphoria” caps with a predictable-but-satisfying stop that feels like it’s underlining the purpose behind so much of the material before it, emphasizing the natural meld between songwriting and instrumentalist conversation in their sound and the way Bismut are able to pull the different sides together in a malleable, engaging blend. Whether one might lose oneself in the fluidity of their play, nod to the riffs as they roll by, dwell in its open spaces or grit teeth in its builds, Ausdauer accounts for a range of experiences and, in part through its scope, serves as a defining effort on the part of Bismut to-date. They don’t sound like they’re done finding new reaches and/or refining their approach, but in terms of methodology, they have very obviously learned from their first two LPs and put those lessons to use here.
Posted in Reviews on October 5th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to Thursday of the Fall 202 Quarterly Review. It’s been a good run so far. three days and 30 records, about to be four and 40. I’ve got enough on my desktop and there’s enough stuff coming out this month that I could probably do a second Fall QR in November, and maybe stave off needing to do a double-one in December as I had been planning in the back of my head. Whatever, I’ll figure it out.
I hope you’ve been able to find something you dig. I definitely have, but that’s how it generally goes. These things are always a lot of work, and somehow I seem to plan them on the busiest weeks — today we’re volunteering at the grade school book fair; I think I’ll dig out my old Slayer God Hates Us All shirt from 20 years ago and see if it still fits. Sadly, I think we all know how that experiment will work out.
Anyway, busy times, good music, blah blah, let’s roll.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
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Darsombra, Dumesday Book
Forever touring and avant garde to their very marrow, ostensibly-Baltimorean duo Darsombra — Ann Everton on keys, vocals, live visuals, and who the hell knows what else, Brian Daniloski on guitar, a living-room pedal board, and engineering at the band’s home studio — unveil Dumesday Book as a 75-minute collection not only of works like “Call the Doctor” (posted here) or “Call the Doctor” (posted here), which appear as remixes, but their first proper album of this troubled decade after 2019’s Transmission (review here) saw them reach so far out into the cosmic thread to harness their bizarre stretches of bleeps and boops, manipulated vocals, drones, noise and suitably distraught collage in “Everything is Canceled” — which they answer later with “Still Canceled,” because charm — but the reassurance here is in the continuation of Daniloski and Everton‘s audio adventures, and their commitment to what should probably at this point in space-time be classified as free jazz remains unflinching. Squares need not apply, and if you’re into stuff like structure, there’s some of that, but all Darsombra ever need to get gone is a direction in which to head — literally or figuratively — so why not pick them all?
Cavernous in its echo and with a grit of tone that is the aural equivalent of the feeling of pull in your hand when you make a doom claw, The Banishing is the second full-length from Italian doom rockers Bottomless. Working as the trio of vocalist/guitarist Giorgio Trombino (ex-Elevators to the Grateful Sky, etc.), drummer David Lucido (Assumption, among a slew of others) and bassist Sara Bianchin — the latter also of Messa and recently replaced in Bottomless by Laura Nardelli (Ponte del Diavolo, etc.) — the band follow their 2021 self-titled debut (review here) with an eight-track collection that comes across as its own vision of garage doom. It’s not about progressive flourish or elaborate production, but about digging into the raw creeper groove of “Guardians of Silence” or the righteous post-Pentagram chug-and-nod of “Let Them Burn.” It is not solely intended as worship for what’s come before. Doom-of-eld, the NWOBHM, ’70s proto splurges all abound, but in the vocal and guitar melody of “By the Sword of the Archangel” and the dramatic rolling finish of “Dark Waters” after the acoustic-led interlude “Drawn Into Yesterday,” in the gruel of “Illusion Sun,” they channel these elements through themselves and come out with an album that, for as dark and grim as it would likely sound to more than 99 percent of the general human population, is pure heart.
The Death Wheelers, Chaos and the Art of Motorcycle Madness
Look. I don’t know The Death Wheelers personally at all. We don’t hang out on weekends. But the sample-laced (“We wanna be free to ride our machines without being hassled by the Man — and we wanna get loaded!” etc.), motorcycle-themed Québecois instrumental outfit sound on their second LP, the 12-track/40-minute riff-pusher Chaos and the Art of Motorcycle Madness, like they’re onto something. And again, I don’t know these cats at all. I don’t know what they do for work, what their lives are like, any of it. But if The Death Wheelers want to get out and give this record the support it deserves, the place they need to be is Europe. Yeah, I know there was The Picturebooks, but they were clean-chrome and The Death Wheelers just cracked a smile and showed you the fly that got splattered on their front tooth while they were riding — sonically speaking. The dust boogie of “Lucifer’s Bend,” the duly stoned “Interquaalude” ahead of the capper duo of “Sissy Bar Strut (Nymphony 69)” and “Cycling for Satan Part II” and the blowout roll in “Ride into the Röt (Everything Lewder Than Everything Else)” — this is a band who should bypass America completely for touring and focus entirely on Europe. Because the US will come around, to be sure, but not for another three or four month-long Euro stints get the point across. I don’t know that that’ll happen or it won’t, but they sound ready.
The career arc of guitarist Phil Caivano — and of course he does other stuff as well, including vocals on his self-titled solo-project’s debut, Caivano, but some people seem to have been born to hold a guitar in their hands and he’s one of those; see also Bob Balch — is both longer and broader than his quarter-century as guitarist and songwriting contributor to Monster Magnet, but the NJ heavy rock stalwarts will nonetheless be the closest comparison point to these 10 tracks and 33 minutes, a kind of signature sleazy roll in “Talk to the Dead,” the time-to-get-off-your-ass push of “Come and Get Me” at the start or the punkier “Verge of Yesterday” — touch of Motörhead there seeming well earned — a cosmic ripper on a space backbeat in “Fun & Games,” but all of this is within a tonal and production context that’s consistent across the span, malleable in style, unshakable in structure. Closer “Face the Music” is the longest cut at 5:04 and is a drumless spacey experiment with vocals and a guitar figure wrapped around a central drone, and that adds yet more character to the proceedings. I’d wonder how long some of these songs or parts have been around or if Caivano is going to put a group together — could be interesting — and make a go of it apart from his ‘main band,’ but he’s long since established himself as an exceptional player, and listening to some of this material highlights contributions of style and substance to shaping Monster Magnet as well. Phil Caivano: songwriter.
Together for nearly a decade, richly informed by the progressive and space rock(s) of the 1970s, prone to headspinning feats of lead guitar like that in the back end of second cut “Dysania,” Entropía offer their second full-length in Eclipses, a five-track/40-minute excursion of organ-inclusive cosmic prog that reminds of Hypnos 69 in the warm serenity at the start of “Tarbes,” threatens the epic on seven-minute opener “Thesan” and delivers readily throughout; a work of scope that runs deep in the pairing of “Tarbes” and “Caleidoscopia” — both of which top nine minutes long — but it’s there that Entropía reveal the full spectrum of light they’re working with, whether it’s that tonal largesse that rears up in the latter or the jazzy kosmiche shove in the payoff of the former. And the drums come forward to start closer “Polaris,” which follows, as Entropía nestle into one more groovy submersion, finding heavy shuffle in the drums — hell yeah — and holding that tension until it’s time for the multi-tiered finish and only-necessary peaceful comedown. It’s inevitable that some records in a Quarterly Review get written about and I never listen to them again. I’ll be back to this one.
God damn, Ghorot, leave some nasty for the rest of the class. The Boise, Idaho, three-piece — vocalist/bassist Carson Russell (also Ealdor Bealu), guitarist/vocalist Chad Remains (ex-Uzala) and drummer/vocalist Brandon Walker — launch their second LP, Wound, with the gloriously screamed, righteously-coated-in-filth, choking-on-mud extreme sludge they appropriately titled “Dredge.” And fuck if it doesn’t get meaner from there as Ghorot — working with esteemed producer Andy Patterson (The Otolith, etc.) and releasing through Lay Bare Recordings and King of the Monsters Records — take the measure of your days and issue summary judgment in the negative through the mellow-harshing bite of “In Asentia,” the least brutal part of which kind of sounds like High on Fire and the death/black metal in centerpiece “Corsican Leather.” All of which is only on side A. On side B, “Canyon Lands” imagines a heavy Western meditation — shades of Ealdor Bealu in the guitar — that retains its old-wizard vocal gurgle, and capper “Neanderskull” finally pushes the entire affair off of whatever high desert cliffside from which it’s been proclaiming all this uberdeath and into a waiting abyss of willfully knuckledragging blower deconstruction. The really scary shit is these guys’ll probably do another record after this one. Yikes.
With the self-release of Outward, heavy progressive psych instrumentalists Moozoonsii complete a duology of pandemic-constructed outings that began with last year’s (of course) Inward, and to do so, the trio based in Nantes, France, continue to foster a methodology somewhere between metal and rock, finding ground in precision riffing in the 10-minute “Nova” or in the bumps and crashes after eight minutes into the 13-minute “Far Waste,” but they’re just as prone to jazzy skronk-outs like in the midsection solo of “Lugubris,” and the entire release is informed by the unfolding psychedelic meditationscape of “Stryge” at the start, so by no, no, no means at all are they doing one thing for the duration. “Toxic Lunar Vibration,” which splits the two noted extended tracks, brings the sides together as if to emphasize this point, not so much fitting those pointed angles together as delighting in the ways in which they do and don’t fit at certain times as part of their creative expression. Pairing that impulse with the kind of heavy-as-your-face-if-your-face-had-a-big-boulder-on-it fuzz in “Tauredunum” is a hell of a place to wind up. The unpredictable character of the material that surrounds only makes that ending sweeter and more satisfying.
An initial two tracks from UK trio Death Wvrm, both instrumental, surfaced earlier this year, one in Spring around the time of their appearance at Desertfest London — quiet a coup for a seemingly nascent band; but listening to them I get it — and after. “Enter” was first, “The Endless” second, and the two of them tell a story unto themselves; narrative seeming to be part of the group’s mission from this point of outset, as each single comes with a few sentences of accompanying scene-setting. Certainly not going to complain about the story, and the band have some other surprises in store in these initial cuts, be it the bright, mid-period Beatles-y tone in the guitar for “The Endless” (it’s actually only about four and a half minutes) or the driving fuzz that takes hold after the snap of snare at 2:59, or the complementary layer of guitar in “Enter” that speaks to broader ambitions sound-wise almost immediately on the part of the band. “Enter” and “The Endless” both start quiet and get louder — the scorch in “Enter” isn’t to be discounted — but they do so in differing ways, and so while one listens to the first two cuts a band is putting out and expects growth in complexity and method, that’s actually just fine, because it’s exactly also what one is left wanting after the two songs are done: more. I’m not saying show up at their house or anything, but maybe give a follow on Bandcamp and keep an eye.
Safe to assume some level of self-awareness on the part of Brazilian trio Mudness who, after unveiling their first single “R.I.P.” in 2020 make their self-titled full-length debut with seven songs of hard-burned wizard riffing, the plod of “Gone” (also an advance single, if not by three years) and guitarist Renan Casarin‘s Obornian moans underscoring the disaffected stoner idolatry. Joined by Fernando Dal Bó, whose bass work is crucial to the success of the entire release — can’t roll it if it ain’t heavy — and drummer Pedro Silvano, who adds malevolent swing to the slow march forward of “This End Body,” the centerpiece of the seven-song/35-minute long player. There’s an interlude, “Lamuria,” that could probably have shown up earlier, but one should keep in mind that the sense of onslaught between the likes of “Evil Roots” and “Yellow Imp” is part of the point, and likewise that they’re saving an extra layer of aural grime for “Final Breeze,” where they answer the more individual take of “This End Body” with a reach into melodicism and mark their appeal both in what they might bring to their sound moving forward and the planet-sucked-anyhow despondent crush of this collection. Putting it on the list for the best debuts of 2023. It’s not innovative, or trying to be, but that doesn’t stop it from accomplishing its aims in slow, mostly miserable stride.
I’m not generally one to tell you how to spend your money, but if you take a look over at The Space Huns‘ Bandcamp page (linked below), you’ll see that the Hungarian psych jammers’ entire digital discography is €3.50. Again, not trying to tell you how to live your life, but Legends of the Ancient Tribes, the Szeged-based trio’s new hour-long album, has a song on it called “Goats on a Discount Private Space Shuttle Voyage,” and from where I sit that entitles the three-piece of guitarist Csaba Szőke, bassist Tamás Tikvicki and drummer Mátyás Mozsár to that cash and perhaps more. I could just as easily note “Sgt. Taurus on Coke” at the start of the outing or “The Melancholic Stag Beetle Who Got Inspired by Corporate Motivational Coaches” — or the essential fact that in addition to the best song titles I’ve seen all year (again, and perhaps more), the jams are ace. Chemistry to spare, patience when it’s called for but malleable enough to boogie or nod and sound no less natural doing either, while keeping an exploratory if not improvisational — and it might be that too — character to the material. It’s not a minor undertaking at 59 minutes, but between the added charm of the track names and the grin-inducing nod of “Cosmic Cities of the Giant Snail Kingdom,” they make it easy.
Posted in Questionnaire on September 29th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Mathijs Van Meensel from Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
First and foremost, we make music and have a good time. It doesn’t really have to get any more complex than that, but there are two interconnected factors that explain why we make the type of music that we make, and why we have such a good time. Quite simply, we make the music we want to hear with the people we want to hear and play it with. As for how we came to it, the answer can be found along that exact vein. Our drummer, the founder of the band, realized that the type of music he loved wasn’t being played much in Belgium, so he contacted a few of his friends and that was that. From the very first rehearsals it became obvious that we shared some special connection, which shines through in our creative process, musical chemistry and onstage energy, but perhaps most clearly in our backstage banter.
Describe your first musical memory.
I distinctly remember chugging beers and rocking out to Black Sabbath’s Paranoid in my mother’s womb, she fucking loved that tune.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
I don’t think I have any musical memories I would call the absolute best, but I suppose the musical memories that have had the most influence on me must be my earliest run-ins with Pink Floyd, especially Dark Side of the Moon. I remember sitting in front of my computer at about 14-15 years old just listening to them and being transported to another realm. I know that by now it’s a huge cliché to say Pink Floyd changed me not only as a music fan but as a person as well, but nonetheless I feel like things mostly become clichés for a reason, and seeing as so many people share that same experience with the Floyd, there must be something to it.
Another great memory is finally getting to see Acid Mothers Temple live in Liège, we were there with most of the members of the band and it was absolutely amazing. Somewhat strangely I’ve known them for a really long time now. About 10 years ago the Youtube algorithm decided to introduce me to this bunch of spaced-out Japanese rockers and I’ve loved them dearly ever since, so finally getting to see them in the flesh was mindblowing.
I had to ask the band if they had any other memories because it’s such a personal question, and some other good ones came out. For example, one of our guitar players remembers listening to Maggot Brain during his first experience with space-cake, he told me “[his] bed turned into a spaceship man”, and I can totally see that happening. Another one of our guitarists mentioned the time we went to France as a first band teambuilding trip. While we were there, we jointly listened to Matthew Halsall’s beautiful minimalist jazz tune “Only You” and just all fell silent and enjoyed. That song holds a special place in the band’s shared heart for sure.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
I try not to hold on to any beliefs too firmly, I prefer to remain mentally malleable. The beliefs I do hold onto firmly though, like equality and ecology, are not likely to be tested by anyone.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
It is unclear to me what exactly you mean by “artistic progression”.
Artistic progression can be viewed as a broad historical phenomenon, or as something personal to the individual artist. In the first case, I would disagree with the term “progression”, as I do not believe art progresses in the same way as for instance medicine or technology. The history of art is not a progression, but rather the assimilation of a tradition of tastes and impressions hailing from the human experience. This assimilation, in turn, leads without end to a more and more expansive library of the artistic tradition.
As for the more personal interpretation of artistic progression, I would like to divide the response into two sections: first, the progression of any individual work of art; and second, the progression of the artist as an artist.
The progression of any individual work of art leads to a cut-off point. At a certain point in time, the artist must say enough is enough and determine the work of art ready for publication, which is of course much more easily said than done.
The progression of the artist as an artist leads, preferably, to a purification and as such an intensification of their personal aesthetics.
How do you define success?
I’ve never thought about defining success, I’ll know when I get there. For now though, small victories will do nicely.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
I once saw a whole chicken coming out of a can from a dollar store and let me tell you, it did not look like chicken.
Btw, if you’d like to see what I’m talking about, here’s a link: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/nrcgTp0SChU
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
Anything but whole-canned chicken-soup.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
To me, the most essential function of art is its non-functionality, its ability to exist without any clear purpose and to create in the face of nothingness. Uselessness is what makes art so special and powerful. To view art as necessarily connected to a utilitarian value, is to diminish its potential. If it is created impulsively and without any clear function, art manages to escape from the everyday drag of late-capitalism where the cadence is determined by the dictum “time is money” and any time-consuming move needs to be justified. A good analogy would be a jam-session. When you’re deep into a half-hour musical freakout, with all the musicians on fire and creating on the spot, something unique and undefined happens. It is exactly in this undefined happening that a true and unfiltered artistic spirit reigns supreme, and at such a time, everybody, artist and audience alike, is connected in a distinct and ephemeral moment that will never be replicated.
This is not to say that art cannot have certain functions. For instance, art can make people happy, it can make them sad, and if used correctly, it can humanize. However, I am firmly against the idea that clearly defined functions can or should be essential to any art form.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 25th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Believe me, I understand that Europe is not exactly lacking in instrumental psych bands. Free-range and free-jazz trios roam in the wilds Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, the UK even, Italy, Scandinavia, on and on. We know this. What I’m saying is that Nijmegen’s Bismut are on something of a different trip. Yeah, when you read about it, you’re going to hear ‘instrumental psych’ and think, “okay, this is one of those post-Earthless or maybe post-Colour Haze jam bands” and know what you’re getting. And by the way, if that was what Bismut were doing, fine. I love that shit.
But Bismut are more progressive in their sound on their third LP behind 2020’s Retrocausality (review here) and their 2018 debut, Schwerpunkt (review here). I can hear Tool and Karma to Burn both in opening track “Mendalir” and the subsequent “Faun” backs that up with surprisingly earthy riffing. However much Bismut‘s beginnings may have been in improv, these are composed pieces. There’s genuine crunch in the tone on “Despotisme” and the closer “Euphoria,” and “Masta” spaces out a bit, but as much as a band without vocals could, Bismut sound like they’re trying to capture an audience. A live crowd. And these songs sound like they were written for the stage, which they may well have been.
So yeah, I’ve heard it and it’s not worth pretending otherwise. I’m currently slated to stream [title redacted] on Oct. 18 ahead of its Oct. 20 release (don’t tell the internet, but the day between is my birthday). Mark your calendars for that. It feels far in the future with September between here and there, but it’ll come eventually.
The PR wire sent words. I made theM blue and put them here because it is important to see the narrative an artist/band/anybody is telling you about their own work:
BISMUT – NEW LP – RELEASE DATE 20th OCTOBER 2023
Hailing from the city of Nijmegen in the Netherlands, Bismut is a dynamic heavy psych trio that has been carving their unique path since forming in 2016. Drawing influences from an eclectic blend of genres including progressive rock, doom, metal, stoner, heavy psych, and classic hard rock, their music is an intense and mesmerizing fusion that transcends traditional boundaries. Their distinctive sound has earned them a dedicated fanbase, and their performances on stages across Europe have solidified their reputation as a force to be reckoned with.
New album [title redacted] marks the triumphant return of the band, following the success of their sold-out (on vinyl) previous releases, Schwerpunkt in 2018, and Retrocausality in 2020, released via Lay Bare Recordings. This album promises to be a sonic journey that delves even deeper into the band’s diverse influences while pushing their sound to new heights. From thunderous, doom-laden riffs to mind-bending psychedelic explorations, the album seamlessly weaves together a tapestry of textures that will resonate with long-time fans and newcomers alike.
[Title redacted] is a joint effort between the band’s current Dutch label Lay Bare Recordings and the Spanish label Spinda Records. This collaboration brings together a diverse range of expertise, amplifying the album’s potential for international recognition and success. The partnership aims to introduce the band’s electrifying sound to a wider global audience, leveraging the strengths of both labels in their respective regions.
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 24th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Hey, I like good news. That’s part of the reason you see so many album announcements around here. Most of life is nasty, brutish, short, really really hard and/or affected in some detrimental way by climate change, so if you can put yourself into a position of looking forward to something, how is that not worth it? Dutch imprint Lay Bare Recordings in celebrating its 10th anniversary has new preorders up for Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers, and that’s kind of cool on the thing-coming-up tip, and there’s a sale and a new Rrrags coming, but the point here is really to celebrate the passing of a decade since Désirée Hanssen founded the label in 2013.
Not an easy decade for a record label to survive, and that’s before you get to the two-plus plague years worked into it. In a crowded, one might argue saturated, market, a label has to be flexible, to promote all the time, to always be working on the next thing, and to try to capture fickle attentions of a listenership while still keeping one’s passion in check and releasing something you love. I don’t envy the task, and I wake up at four o’clock every morning to write about riffs. Take that little bit of context and sit with it a while.
Heartfelt congratulations to Hanssen on the milestone, and here’s hoping for many more to come. 52 releases in 10 years is an accomplishment.
From the PR wire:
Celebrating a Decade of Sonic Power: Independent Dutch Record Label Lay Bare Recordings Marks 10 Years and 52 Album Releases
In a world dominated by digital streams and fleeting trends, independent Dutch record label Lay Bare Recordings stands as a steadfast champion of authentic music experiences. As they proudly celebrate their 10th anniversary, the label has achieved an impressive milestone of 52 album releases, showcasing an unwavering commitment to musical diversity and quality.
Founded in 2013, Lay Bare Recordings has carved a distinctive niche in the music industry by focusing on the artistry of vinyl releases across a vast spectrum of genres from the rock and metal world, from the low and slow to the hard and heavy, Lay Bare Recordings has solidified its reputation as a champion of diversity and musical excellence.
Over the past decade, the label has curated a collection that transcends mere sonic creations. Each album, meticulously crafted and pressed on high-quality vinyl, becomes a tangible embodiment of the artists’ vision. The label recognizes the significance of preserving the analog warmth and intimate connection that only vinyl can offer, and they have consistently upheld this tradition throughout their journey.
” Today, 10 years later and working on the 52nd release, I still feel truly humbled to continue releasing such great music from bands all over the world. This can only happen by the support of you, the music aficionados, music fans from everywhere.” says Désirée Hanssen, the founder of Lay Bare Recordings.
The label’s 52 album releases span an impressive range of genres, showcasing the label’s dedication to promoting artistic diversity. With each release, Lay Bare Recordings has not only celebrated the musicians’ creativity but has also offered music enthusiasts a chance to experience music as a multisensory journey, combining stunning album artwork, meticulously designed packaging, and the tactile pleasure of spinning vinyl.
To commemorate their 10th anniversary in style, Lay Bare Recordings have launched a “Killer Classics Sale” that promises to enthrall music enthusiasts. With discounted prices on select vinyl releases. In addition to the Killer Classics Sale, Lay Bare Recordings is excited to offer exclusive pre-orders for upcoming releases. This unique opportunity allows fans to secure their copies of eagerly anticipated albums before they hit the shelves.
KILLER CLASSICS SALE IS ON!
TREASURES FROM THE VAULT & RELICS FROM THE PAST
Killer classics for €15, €10, or less! A celebration offer especially for vinyl lovers for a limited time. Hurry up the stock is limited!
As the party goes on Lay Bare is thrilled to launch the pre-orders for Mojo & the Kitchen Brothers – Flaming Tiger Lizard EP and debut full length Mojo’s Heavy Cream.
“Mojo & the Kitchen Brothers is a 5-headed omnium gatherum of eclectically inspired music freaks from Belgium cooking up a late 60’s early 70’s mix of heavy progrock soaked in psychedelia. Catchy tunes, proggy riffs, deafening drums, roaring basslines and spacy, triple-guitar jams take you on a journey through the limbo between past and present.”
Dive into the captivating world of sound crafted by this dynamic Belgian group, and seize the opportunity to pre-order their albums ‘Flaming Tiger Lizard EP’ and ‘Mojo’s Heavy Cream’ individually or as an attractively priced bundle.
As the label looks toward the next decade, their unwavering dedication to the soulful spirit of music remains their guiding principle. The label’s commitment to nurturing artistic innovation and fostering a genuine connection between musicians and listeners continues to drive their endeavors, ensuring that the timeless allure of vinyl will thrive for generations to come.
For more information about Lay Bare Recordings and their 10th-anniversary celebrations, please visit their official website atwww.laybarerecordings.com
Watch this space for news about the upcoming releases from Sister May, RRRags, Bismut, Modder, Ghorot & Severant.
almost cultish as presented.
