Here’s a phrase you won’t hear me use often: “Kyuss-worthy fuzz.” It’s that level of tonal gorgeousness that bleeds through in the work of Leicester, UK, outfit The Kings of Frog Island. Their second album, 2008’s aptly-titled II, is for my money one of the best desert rock albums ever to come from a place with no sand (though perhaps there is sand on Frog Island — I really should finish that geological survey), and though they veered more toward the garage rock end of things with the 2010 follow-up, III (review here), their latest work finds them at their most spaced-out yet, at least as far as the new video below for the song “Long Live the King” goes.

The reason I say that is because no single track ever really represents the whole album when it comes to The Kings of Frog Island — there’s something to be said for switching it up — but since the band was awesome enough to post on the forum the news of their forthcoming new album, Volume IV, and the departure of guitarist Mat Bethancourt, also of Cherry Choke and possibly still Dexter Jones Circus Orchestra, I’d be remiss if I didn’t bask in the warmth of “Long Live the King”‘s fuzzy sprawl.

And yeah, a lot of it’s about that tone, but the vocals here also rule (reminding me of Lamp of the Universe) and this band does more with a single cymbal wash than most do with an Orange full stack, so dig the tune and their words below:

After Mat Bethancourt left to concentrate on Cherry Choke, the rest of the band retreated back into their natural habitat: the studio.

After 2 years locked in Amphibia, the new album is now in the can. No release details as yet, expect a digital release first with a vinyl issue to follow.

The full title of Cherry Choke’s second album is A Night in the Arms of Venus Leads to a Lifetime on Mercury, and it’s a saying taken from the fact that mercury used to be used as a treatment for syphilis. Venus, then, is a prostitute giving you the disease. The vaguely evocative sexuality and antiqueness of the line perfectly suits the sophomore outing from the British threesome, who made their debut on Elektrohasch Schallplatten with a self-titled in 2009 (review here). A Night in the Arms of Venus, for short, collects nine vinyl-minded retro rockers the swing of which will be welcome to anyone on Graveyard’s trail, but Cherry Choke are rawer, more garage-sounding, injecting a Stooges wiriness into heavy blues grooves and ‘60s proto-psych pop. Fronted by guitarist/vocalist Mat Bethancourt (of Josiah, The Kings of Frog Island and Dexter Jones Circus Orchestra), they are a classically-directed power trio and the songs follow purposefully simple structures, Dan Lockton’s drums coming on with a casual uptempo swagger and open feel that reminds some of Blue Cheer’s early bombast, but on the whole, these songs are more melodically aware than were the San Franciscan progenitors of the genre. Bethancourt made his bones as a fuzz rocker in Josiah, but if that’s to be the object of search here, it’s found more on Gregg Hunt’s bass, which pushes the uptempo “Winchester Geese” over the line of psych rock and heavy psych rock. The guitars are cleaner in a classic combo-amp fashion and well-suited to the mod vibe of the tracks.

And the songs, for their part, are built on catchy choruses and steady execution. They feel natural and retro but not posturing or chic for the sake of being chic. A Night in the Arms of Venus varies in mood and tempo but keeps a consistent aesthetic nonetheless, even as the later “Silver Crossed My Mind” veers into backwards guitar and mellotron psychedelia, departing from the straightforward 45rpm-single-ready songwriting of “The Day She Came to Play” or the Hunt-penned “Blue Mass,” which directly precedes following side B opener and album highlight “Evol,” on which Bethancourt layers acoustic and electric guitar to ecstatic effect. It is the guitarist’s construction acumen all over A Night in the Arms of Venus, but Hunt and Lockton make for more than an enriching presence in the rhythm section, fueling a freakout of their own to contrast Bethancourt’s calmer approach on “I Need Not Know Redemption” or playing off the Who-style grandiosity of opener “Crying out Loud” with solo-worthy runs and fills later in the song. Hunt’s contributions make some of these cuts stand out, and that’s as much the case with “Crying out Loud” as it is with the more extended closer “Splinters,” which tops seven minutes and finds Bethancourt answering back with a bit of fuzzy warmth of his own while Lockton foreshadows the jam to come as he keeps time on his toms amid sub-swirl channel-pans in the guitar leads and a forward focus that seems impossible given the seemingly unhinged aesthetic in which Cherry Choke are working.

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