Posted in Whathaveyou on September 26th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
So this is the kind of thing that, as a nerd generally and an Orange Goblin fan in particular, I should probably be well stoked on. ‘Good band is gonna make a record’ is almost always welcome news even if it means I’m probably on the hook for buying a CD of that record, if one is even made. Orange Goblin are signed to Peaceville now. They’ve bounced around a bit in the last couple years; playing fests and so on since 2022 and bringing in Harry Armstrong on bass, they also released 2020’s digital-first Rough & Ready: Live & Loud (review here) on Dissonance Productions, and you might remember their ninth studio LP, 2018’s The Wolf Bites Back (review here), was on Spinefarm. Pretty funny they show up on Peaceville though some 30 years after starting out in the deathlier Our Haunted Kingdom, influenced by the likes of Paradise Lost and others from the label’s oeuvre.
And generally speaking, I guess I am stoked on the prospect of a new Orange Goblin record. There’s a lot that can happen between now and when it eventually comes out, but I saw the band this past summer — even rode in the van with them back to the hotel where they were staying (I was residing elsewhere) — and they killed with vigor and resonant verve. The Wolf Bites Back was pretty metal. I’ll be interested to hear where album 10 takes them. I’ll try and tamp down the nerdery accordingly.
From socials:
It’s been a while since we posted as we have been busy in the rehearsal room writing and fine tuning new material ahead of the 10th Orange Goblin studio album. We will enter a recording studio in England in November to start laying it down, our first album since 2018’s ‘The Wolf Bites Back’ and first for new label, Peaceville Records. We have 10 new songs pretty much ready to go and are very excited to share these with you, hopefully to be released in the first half of 2024.
Orange Goblin is: Ben Ward – Vocals Joe Hoare – Guitar Harry Armstrong – Bass / Backing vocals Christopher Turner – Drums
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
When the storytellers behind Swedish conceptualist doomers Cavern Deep launched their own label, Bonebag Records — whose first release was the band’s own Part II – Breach (review here) this summer — they made known their intention to develop the imprint as something more than a DIY outlet, and the first act to be signed other than themselves is UK crunch riffers Troy the Band.
The band (Troy) released their debut EP, The Blissful Unknown (review here), in 2022, and if you didn’t catch wind of its swinging, grungy psych, it’s streaming below. It’s cool to think of the band moving forward with their first long-player, them and the label growing together.
Announcement came down the PR wire. I’ll hope to have more on the record closer to the release:
BONEBAG RECORDS SIGNS TROY THE BAND
Cavern Deep’s Bonebag Records signs its first artist. Troy The Band is a London-based four piece boasting a distinctive sonic identity that seamlessly weaves together elements of Stoner-doom, post rock, heavy psych, and shoegaze.
Beginning with their first live shows in early 2022, TTB have established themselves as a mainstay of the UK heavy music scene. In April 2022 they self-released their debut EP, The Blissful Unknown, to critical acclaim. One review dubbed it “a surreal release that captivates from start to finish” and hailed it as “one of the most compelling debut releases to emerge from the UK Doom/Stoner Metal scene in recent memory.”
Bolstered by the resonance of their EP, Troy The Band maintained a regular gigging schedule, sharing stages with heavyweights such as King Buffalo, Unida, and Hippie Death Cult during their 2022 UK tours.
In Spring 2023 the band re-entered the studio with Wayne Adams at Bear Bites Horse Studios in London to record their debut full-length album.
Continuing their forward momentum as a band, throughout 2023 they have played festivals within their genre, including Desertfest London, Masters of the Riff II, and Stoomfest.
In August 2023 Troy The Band signed a record deal with Sweden’s Bonebag Records who will release their full length debut in December 2023.
Quote from Bonebag Records:
“After hearing Troy The Band for the first time when they promoted their EP, which captivated us with its unique sound, we were absolutely delighted when they submitted their debut album to our label. Troy The Band excels at blending a distinctive sound with classic doom riffs, which our label is thrilled to support. With such an impressive lineup of songs on their forthcoming album, we firmly believe they are poised to take the Heavy Underground by storm.”
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 8th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Of course it’s about an actual witch. What, you thought Green Lung were gonna half-ass it? The London-based champions of sweeping and melodic heavy cult rock aren’t the type to roll out without their source material in order, and as discussed below — because I promise you I’m not going to try and pretend I’d heard of her before the clip — “Maxine (Witch Queen)” takes its basis from Maxine Sanders, who with her husband Alex in the 1960s led a revival of Wiccan practice. Green Lung bringing out a few actual people involved in Alexandrian Witchcraft at the time is fun trivia in a video that’s delightfully over-the-top, with fake blood and some eyeliner on vocalist Tom Templar and a club show at Helgi’s Bar in London turned into a debauched cultish celebration — as it inevitably would.
Green Lung‘s This Heathen Land full-length arrives on Nov. 3 and will be their first for Nuclear Blast. “Maxine (Witch Queen)” follows “Mountain Throne” and reinforces the band’s penchant for sharply-constructed mini-epics that are shy neither in their metallic delve nor poppish hookmaking. All good fun until the devil shows up, so yes, all good fun.
The PR wire sent the following:
GREEN LUNG RELEASE VIDEO FOR ‘MAXINE (WITCH QUEEN)’ THE SECOND SINGLE FROM THIS HEATHEN LAND
THIS HEATHEN LAND WILL BE RELEASED ON NOVEMBER 3RD
Occult rock darlings GREEN LUNG have released a new video for ‘Maxine (Witch Queen)’, the second single from their hotly anticipated new record This Heathen Land, which will be released on November 3rd via Nuclear Blast Records.
Vocalist Tom Templar comments “We’ve celebrated British witchcraft in our lyrics since our first EP, and with this new single we wanted to celebrate the most iconic witch of the modern era – Maxine Sanders. The High Priestess at the heart of Alexandrian Witchcraft, Maxine is an unsung national treasure, and one of the first people to connect genuine witchcraft with rock ‘n roll back in the early Seventies. ‘Maxine (Witch Queen)’ is a love song to Maxine from the perspective of a member of her coven, and melds pounding riffage with psyched-out combo organs and stacked, multi-layered vocal harmonies. We were honoured to have several members of Maxine’s real life coven appear in the music video, and advise on the ritual elements. Ultimately, the song is intended as a celebration of Maxine Sanders, which we hope will introduce new initiates to her life’s work, and help her legend to live on.”
CREDITS: Directed by: Billy Howard Price Director of Photography: Jacek Zmarz 1st Assistant Cam: Arthur Attenborough Gaffer: Jock Norton Colourist: John O`Riordan Starring: Manko as Maxine Starring: Lolita Postelthwaite as “The Girl” Filmed on Location at Helgi`s Bar, London
Posted in Whathaveyou on August 4th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Big hook and melody, sweeping keys, heavy riffing and an air of classic metal that may be a foreshadow for the record to come as Green Lung make ready to release This Heathen Land, their follow-up to 2021’s Black Harvest (review here) and their first LP for Nuclear Blast. If you think of Graveyard before Hisingen Blues, Earthless before Black Heaven, Kadavar before Abra Kadavar, that’s where the London-based heavy cult rock outfit are now. I’m not saying This Heathen Land is going to be on that level, but as a tense stretch of waiting before they offer up this thing they’ve made, the position is similar. A potential watershed moment for the band.
“Mountain Throne” is the first single from the record, which already has a UK tour announced to support its Nov. 3 release as well as European shows in October including a stop that puts Høstsabbat among the many festivals played this year, and pay attention to the guitar and organ together. On rhythmic and structural lockdown, as is their wont, Green Lung smoothly course through the song’s accessible, fest-ready four and a half minutes, sharper along the edges perhaps than they were a couple years ago and no less themselves for that. Do I need to say I’m looking forward to hearing more? Frickin’ duh. Sub-titled ‘A Journey into Occult Albion,’ This Heathen Land will be perfectly suited to its autumnal arrival, and is among my most anticipated releases for the remainder of 2023. Can’t imagine I’m the only one.
From the PR wire:
GREEN LUNG – This Heathen Land – Nov. 3
We couldn’t be more excited to announce that our third album THIS HEATHEN LAND will be released via Nuclear Blast Records on November 3rd, and is available to preorder on Bandcamp now.
‘Mountain Throne’ was the first song we wrote for the album, and we wanted to share it as the first single as it feels like a natural bridge from the old Green Lung to the new. We’ve always been inspired by the story of the Pendle Witches, and such an iconic subject required an epic rallying cry of a song – we hope that we’ve done these folk heroes justice! Old Gods Never Die!
Tracklisting: Side A: I: Prologue II: The Forest Church III: Mountain Throne IV: Maxine (Witch Queen) V: One for Sorrow Side B: VI: Song of the Stones VII: The Ancient Ways VIII: Hunters in the Sky IX: Oceans of Time
Recorded at Blank Studios and Bear Bites Horse Studios, February-March 2023 Engineered, recorded and produced by Wayne Adams, with additional drum engineering from Sam Grant Mixing and additional production by Tom Dalgety at Psalm Studios, April 2023 Field recordings made at Fritton Woods, Norfolk, April 2023 Mastered by Robin Schmidt at 24-96 Mastering
Illustration and graphic design by Richard Wells Gatefold photography by Andy Ford Art direction by Tom Templar
14-17 June Copenhell 2023 Refshaleøen, Copenhagen, Denmark 7-9 July 13 County Fair 2023 Penn Meadow Farm, High Wycombe, UK 28-29 July Rock Im Wald 2023 Oberfranken, Germany 25 Oct. Bonn, Germany Harmonie 26 Oct. Hamburg, Germany Indra 27 Oct. Berlin, Germany Badehaus 22 Nov. Glasgow, UK Cathouse 23 Nov. Manchester, UK Gorilla 24 Nov. Nottingham, UK Rescue Rooms 25 Nov. Sheffield, UK Corporation Sheffield 26 Nov. Bristol, UK Thekla 30 Nov. Wolverhampton, UK KK’s Steel Mill 1 Dec. Norwich, UK Norwich Arts Centre 2 Dec. Southampton, UK The Joiners 10 Dec. London, UK Scala
Green Lung Is Tom Templar – Vocals Scott Black – Guitar Joseph Ghast – Bass John Wright – Organ Matt Wiseman – Drums
I guess the thing about this record is it’s still so relevant in my head that I somehow don’t think it’s ready for a revisit. Yeah, Elephant Tree have put out another album since this one — this one being their 2016 self-titled debut (review here) and the follow-up being 2020’s Habits (review here) — and I’ll admit I hadn’t put the album on in a while, but seven years after its release, I still kind of feel like I’m getting to know it.
Released through Magnetic Eye, the eight-song self-titled landed with a declarative thud, and not just in Sam Hart‘s drumming. It followed the London-based then-trio’s debut EP, 2014’s Theia (review here), with a remarkable forward step in terms of melodies, harmonies, riffs, songwriting, atmosphere, emotion, identity, production and reach. And I’m not knocking Theia at all — it was on my list of the best debut albums of 2014; at 28 minutes, it’s always been back and forth on whether it’s an EP or LP; for our purposes here, let’s hindsight it as an EP — but where that release had a thread of screamy sludge, the self-titled replaced that with lush heavy psychedelic rock, lightly progressive in a way Habits would build on, and marked a beginning for Elephant Tree in transitioning sitarist/vocalist Riley MacIntyre (whom I met in NYC in 2019 and was lovely) to the role of producer/collaborator and honing in on the dual vocals of guitarist Jack Townley and bassist Peter Holland (also Trippy Wicked, ex-Stubb) as key to the persona of the band.
The trade was aggression for melodic uplift, and with songs like “Wither” picking up after the settle-down-and-catch-your-breath-before-we-get-going intro “Spore” with such an immediate pull-in of a nod, “Echoes” with its bassy swing verse and fuzzwall hook, or closer “Surma,” all melodic reaffirmation becoming an outward drifting fade and poignant standalone guitar ending, if Elephant Tree was their first full-length, it was among the best debuts of the 2010s. There’s precious little secret to why or how it works, and that’s part of the appeal too: tonal largesse set to choice rolling grooves, thoughtfully arranged harmonies and songwriting unshakable even in its heaviest parts. Elephant Tree weren’t trying to be cagey in style or cloying as they played to genre. They made a record that was theirs and made the case for what they could bring to heavy rock. Obviously their arguments were persuasive, or I probably wouldn’t be sitting here wondering when their next album is going to happen (will probably be a bit; more on why below).
“Circles,” led by acoustic guitar with a soft, emotive delivery and a hook that follows the pattern of songs like “Echoes” and the first half of “Aphotic Blues” is the shortest piece at a little over three minutes, but its effect on the ambience of the whole LP shouldn’t be discounted, and neither its interplay with “Dawn” before or “Aphotic Blues” just after, the key/drone-backed strum going gently to silence as the listener rounds a corner and discovers the minotaur of a riff that launches “Aphotic Blues.” A that riff kind of riff, and not the only one in the song, which if it needs to be said is a highlight. The verse, particularly luxuriant and blossomed further in the second than the first — as it should be given the build unfolding — and chorus open at 2:43 to the confessional lyrics, “I need a way to escape my head/I need a way to get by/I need somebody to rescue me/I need a word or a sign,” feeling that much more honest for their plain language.
But they’re still moving slowly, patiently. Not forcing it. Not doing too much or too little. At 3:23, they break to crackling and humming amps as they gather themselves for the instrumental two and a half minutes to come, which are a cathartic celebration of hair-raising riffs and an invitation to let oneself go and be carried by the rhythm. Seven years after the fact, I still heartily recommend doing so. And seven years after the fact, I’m not sure I ever fully appreciated the contrast between “Dawn,” otherwise known as the coming of light, and “Aphotic Blues,” the title of which refers to an absence of light. Couple that with a renewed affection for the watery flourish in the jammy stretch of “Echoes” and the bass hitting early in “Dawn” and just that line in the chorus of “Circles” that goes “The sky just the same as the ocean/The space between me and my home,” and Elephant Tree‘s Elephant Tree still sounds fresh to my ears.
And I’ll say as well, I had just about entirely forgotten the penultimate “Fracture,” which is a little rawer in sound, with a distorted vocal and a massive riff at its finish that dirties up some of the nicer, cleaner, friendlier aspects of the record. I don’t know if it was written earlier than some of the other material, or later, but it comes across now as somewhat set apart for its more introverted feel on a release that’s so much about reaching out. Rather than interrupting the oh-so-vital flow, it adds dynamic to the spaciousness; changing it up without sacrificing momentum. I’ll note that “Circles,” as second to last on side A, was also a point of departure, so a bit of vinyl-minded mirroring there, if manifest differently.
Earlier this year, Elephant Tree let it be known that Townley had suffered a bad accident and been in the hospital for weeks. That led to cancelations for spring appearances and whatever plans might’ve been in the works for earlier this summer, but the band will return to the stage at Krach am Bach in Germany on Aug. 4 and they’re booked for a return appearance at Høstsabbat in Oslo this October, where I hope I’ll get to see them again. As for the aforementioned next record, expectations are high after Habits, which deserved much more of a touring cycle than it got, and I’ve got my fingers crossed for 2024, but of course I know nothing, basically ever, so there you go. I’ll gladly take it whenever it may arrive.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
—
It’s 5:18AM as I finish the above. I’m on the couch as usual with the laptop, but instead of the regular room lamp I’ve got my phone flashlight set under a less-than-half-full gallon jug to make a dim water light in hopes that The Pecan can stay asleep longer. When her air conditioning is on — which it is because the Northeast is getting the heatwave that caused so much misery in the South last week — the air pressure in her room changes, and her door, like the majority of doors in this house, is broken. It doesn’t have the part that keeps the door closed in the jamb. So the change in air pressure as a result of the air conditioner blowing pulls the door open. The nub that retracts and pops out. This lets more light in from downstairs when I’m awake and writing and my sense is that pretty much the first time she rolls over and semiconsciously processes that there’s light on downstairs, she comes down. The water light experiment is to see if a dimmer light will be less noticeable through her pain in the ass door. That she was up yesterday at 5:03 and that it’s 5:23 now gives me a ‘maybe’ to work from.
She was at zoo camp this week. Yeah, I know zoos are immoral as fuck. They are. You should not capture wild, undomesticated animals and put them in cages. But I’m sorry, I don’t have the money to fly to Australia to show my kid what a kangaroo is or why she should give a crap about whether or not they go extinct, so a zoo provides a worthy function in my mind. The Turtle Back Zoo is a regular spot for us; it’s close by, a good walk, has a train and carousel in addition to the animals, touch tank with stingrays, the whole bit. She’s had a great time at camp by all accounts, and after last week getting kicked out of the last camp with one day left — which still feels like a kick in the balls; one fucking day! so close! — even though there have been a few bumps and the counselor has talked to The Patient Mrs. and I at pickup every day about what she’s doing, that she’s getting through is an improvement. But we’ve been at the house all week anxiously looking at the phone hoping it doesn’t ring.
No one tells you when you have a kid just how much of your life is going to be spent in absolute terror. That’s probably a good thing for the continuation of the species.
Next week is farm camp — as I’ve noted before, The Patient Mrs. (through whom all things are possible) lined up this whole amazing summer for her — and that’s a half-day, so less stress on the parental end and maybe a break for the kid as well. But we proceed.
I guess SonicBlast is in like a week and a half. I’m not ready. I’ve never been there before. I’m nervous. I felt the same way before Freak Valley though and lived to tell the tale, so yeah. I need to see if I have a ride from the airport to, uh, wherever the hell I’m going once I land in Portugal.
Next week is first though. My notes feel like a mess but they’re actually not and I’ve got stuff slated into November at this point (not everything through then is full, mind you), with premieres next week for Earthbong, Coltaine and The World at a Glance, hopefully a review of the new Ararat, and whatever else I can fit in. Thanks if you check any of it out. Thanks if you at all dug into the Quarterly Review that ended earlier this week. Again, every time, thanks for reading.
I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Have fun if you can, hydrate, watch your head, take deep breaths. We’re going to swim at my sister’s husband’s family’s house (like my family, they’re also just up the road in the neighborhood) and will probably blast far too much air conditioning as we play Zelda. Whatever you’re up to, hope you enjoy, and thanks one more time for reading.
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 27th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
If I’ve got my days right — and I might not — then tomorrow, Friday, July 28, marks the launch of preorders for the second Morag Tong full-length, called simply Grieve as we all inevitably must at some point or other, and set to arrive Oct. 6 through Majestic Mountain Records. The London-based heavy psych four-piece released a video last week for the first single from the record, “At First Light,” which is a slow nidding journey through seven minutes of vibes meditative and lush, some lead guitar seeming to work under an influence perhaps from King Buffalo‘s “Orion” as the band make ready to dig into a rougher-edged midsection, still expansive as it is.
Those who got on board with Morag Tong‘s 2018 debut, Last Knell of Om (review here) should be well enough at home in “At First Light,” the title of which also recalls Ancestors for me, and find the new song strongly built on lessons from that five-years-ago-now release. No clue as to what the rest of the four-song release holds, but the fact that they’ve dedicated the entirety of the vinyl’s side B to “No Sun, No Moon” should probably be a clue as to the level at which they’re digging in. ‘Deep’ is the likely answer.
The following came from Majestic Mountain‘s newsletter:
MORAG TONG – GRIEVE
Album releases October 6th; Vinyl ships at the same time
London based Progressive Psych Doomsters Morag Tong have a video out for the first single to be released from upcoming sophomore album “Grieve” due out on October 06, 2023 via Majestic Mountain Records.
“Grieve” is the band’s long-awaited follow-up to 2018’s acclaimed full-length debut “Last Knell of Om” and marks their first release on Majestic Mountain Records. Regarding the album Vocalist/Drummer Adam Asquith states “We wanted to create something huge and heavy, but also gorgeous, textured and atmospheric. Incorporating both massive, aggressive wall of sound sections and more pensive, stripped back ambient instrumentals I think we have hit that sweet spot – something anguished and anxious, crumbling and dangerous, yet eerily beautiful and oozing with a love for life itself.“
GRIEVE comes in 180-gram heavyweight vinyl Color-in-color: Yellow and black marbled with red center Single sleeve with 3mm spine Full color insert Black poly-lined inner sleeve Protective plastic sleeve 33 rpm heaviness STRICTLY LIMITED TO ONLY 200 COPIES NO WHOLESALE, EXCLUSIVE TO MAJESTIC MAILORDER
Tracklisting Side A At First Light Passages A Stem’s Embrace Side B No Sun, No Moon
Recorded and mixed by Mike Bew at Foel Studio Mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege Artwork by Kuba Sokólski
MORAG TONG: Adam Asquith – Vocals / Drums Alex Clarke – Guitar Lewis Crane – Guitar James Atha – Bass
Been a trip so far, has this Quarterly Review. It’s been fun to bounce from one thing to the next, drawing imaginary lines between releases that have nothing more to do with each other than being written up on the same day, and seeing the way the mind reels in adjusting from talking about one thing to the next. It’s a different kind of challenge to write 150-200 words (and often more than that; these reviews are getting too long) about a record than 1,000 words.
Less room to make your argument means you need to say what you want to say how you want to say it and punch out. If you’ve read this site with any regularity over the last however many years, or perhaps if you’re reading this very sentence right now, right here, you might guess that such efficiency isn’t a strong suit. This assessment would be correct. Fact is I suck at any number of things. A growing list.
But we’ve made it to Thursday anyhow and today this 70-record Quarterly Review passes its halfway point, and that’s always a fun thing to mark. If you’ve been digging it, I hope you continue to do so. If nothing’s hit, maybe today. If this is the first you’re seeing of any of it, well, that’s fine too. We’re all friends here. You can go back and dig in or not, as you prefer. I’ll keep going either way. Speaking of…
Quarterly Review #31-40:
The Howling Eye, List Do Borykan
I don’t often say things like this, but List Do Borykan is worth it for the opening jam of “Space Dwellers, Episode 1.” That does not mean that song’s languid flow, silly stoned space-adventure spoken word narrative, and flashes of dub and psych and so on, are all that Poland’s The Howling Eye have to offer on their third full-length. It’s not. The prior single “Medival” (sic) has a thoughtful arrangement led by post-Claypool funky bass and surf-style guitar, which are swapped out for hard-riff cacophony metal in the second half of the song’s 3:35 run. That pairing sets up a back and forth between longer jams and more structured material, but it’s all pretty out there when you hear the seven song/44 minutes of the entire record, as the 10-minute “Brothers” builds from silence to organ-laced classic rock testimony and then draws itself down to let the funkier/rolling (depending on which part you’re talking about) “Space Dwellers, Episode 2” provide a swaying melodic highlight, and “Caverns” drones into jazz minimalism for nine minutes before “Space Dwellers, Episode 3” goes full-on over-the-top 92-second dance party. Finally. That leaves the closer, “Johnny,” as the landing spot where the back and forth jams/songs trades end, and they’re due a jam and provide one, but “Johnny” also follows on theme from “Space Dwellers, Episode 3” and the start of “Medival” and other funk-psych stretches, so summarizes List Do Borykan well. Again, worth it for the first song, but is much more than just that as a listening experience.
Toronto-based folk experimentalist, vocalist and multi-instrumentalist Avi C. Engel starts off the 10-song Sanguinaria with the first of its headphone-ready arrangements “Sing in Our Chains” assessing modernity and realizing, “We were better off in the trees.” In addition to Engel‘s actual voice, which is well capable of carrying records on its own, with a distinctive character, part soft and breathy in delivery but resilient with a kind of bruised grace and, as time goes on, grown more adventurous. In “Poisonous Fruit” and “The Snake in the Mirror,” folk, soul and organically-cast sprawl unfold, and where “A Silver Thread” brings in electric guitar and lap steel, “Deathless” — the longest cut at 6:33, arriving paired with the subsequent, textural “I Died Again” — is sparse at first but builds around whatever stringed instrument Engel (slow talharpa?) is playing and Paul Kolinski‘s banjo, standout vocal harmonies and a subdued keeping of rhythm. Along with Kolinski, Brad Deschamps adds lap steel to the opener and the more-forward-in-percussion “Extasis Boogie,” which is listed as an interlude but nearly five minutes long, and Lys Guillorn contributes lap steel to “A Silver Thread,” with all due landscape manifestation. Sad, complex, and beautiful, the 52-minute long-player isn’t a minor undertaking on any level, and “Personne” and the penultimate “Bridge Behind the Sun” emphasize the point of intricacy before the looping “Larvae” masterfully crafts its resonance across the last six minutes of the album.
Begun in 1993 as Peach, London heavy prog rockers Suns of the Tundra celebrate 30 years with the encompassing hour-long The Only Equation, their fifth album, which brings back past members of the band, has a few songs with two drummers, and is wildly sprawling across 10 still-accessible tracks that shimmer with purpose and melody. The title-track seems to harken to a ’90s push, but the twisting and volume-surging back half stave redundancy ahead of the patient drama in the 10-minute “The Rot,” which follows. On the other side of the metal-leaning “Run Boy Run,” with its big, open, floating, thudding finish representing something Suns of the Tundra do very well throughout, the three-part cycle of “Reach for the Inbetween” could probably just as easily have been one 15-minute cut, but is more palatable as three, and loses nothing of its fluidity for it, the build in the third piece giving due payoff before “The Window is Wide” caps in deceptively hooky style. Whether one approaches it with the context of their decades or not, The Only Equation is deeply welcoming. And no, its proggy prog progness won’t resonate universally, but nothing does, and that doesn’t matter anyhow. Without giving up who they are creatively, Suns of the Tundra have made it as easy as they can for one to get on board. The rest is on the listener.
Natskygge sneak a little “Paranoid” into “Delir,” the instrumental opener/longest track (immediate points) of their second album, Eskapisme, and that’s just fine as dogwhistles go. The Danish classic psych rockers made a well-received self-titled debut in 2020 and look to expand on that outing’s classic vibe with this 34-minute eight-tracker, which is rife with creative ambition in the slower “Lys på vej” and the piano-laced “Fjern planet,” which follows, as well as in a mover/shaker like “Titusind år,” the compact three-minute strutter “Frit fald” or what might be the side B leadoff “Feberdrøm” with its circa-1999 Brant Bjork casual groove and warm fuzz, purposefully veering into psychedelia in a way that feels like a preface for the closing duo “Livet brænder,” an organ/keyboard flourish, grounded verse and airy swirls over top leading smoothly into the likewise-peppered but acoustically-based “Den der sidst gik ud,” which conveys patience without giving up the momentum the band has amassed up to that point. I’ll note that my ignorance of the Danish language doesn’t feel like it’s holding me back as “Fjern planet” holds forth its lush melancholy or “Titusind år” signals the band’s affinity for krautrock. Not quite vintage in production, but not too far off, Eskapisme feels like it was made to be lived with, the songs engaged over a period of years, and I look forward to revisiting accordingly.
Portland’s Last Giant reportedly had a bit of a time recording their fourth long-player, Monuments, in a months-long process involving multiple studios and a handful of producers, among them Adam Pike (Holy Grove, Young Hunter, Red Fang, Mammoth Salmon, etc.) recording basic tracks, Paul Malinowski (Shiner, Open Hand) mixing and three different rounds of mastering. Complicated. Working as the three-piece of founder, principal songwriter, guitarist and vocalist RFK Heise (ex-System and Station), bassist Palmer Cloud and drummer Matt Wiles — it was just Heise and Wiles on 2020’s Let the End Begin (review here) — the band effectively fill in whatever cracks may have been apparent to them in the finished product, and the 10-track/39-minute offering is pop-informed as all their output to-date has been and loaded with heart. Also a bit of trumpet on “Saviors.” There’s swagger in “Blue” and “Hell on Burnside,” and “Feels Like Water” is about as weighted and brash as I’ve heard Last Giant get — a fun contrast to the acoustic “Lost and Losing,” which closes — but wherever a given track ends up, it is deftly guided there by Heise‘s sure hand. Sounds like it was much easier to make than apparently it was.
Growth is either the second or third full-length from Polish heavy psych doomers Moonstone depending on what you count, but by the time you’re about three minutes into the 7:47 of second cut “Bloom” after the gets-loud-at-the-end-anyway atmospheric intro “Harvest” — which establishes an undercurrent of metal that the rest of the six-song/36-minute LP holds even in its quietest parts — ordinal numbering won’t matter anyway. “Bloom” and “Sun” (8:02), which follows, are the longest pieces on Growth, and that in itself speaks to the band stripping back some of their jammier impulses as compared to, say, late 2021’s two-song 12″ 1904 (discussed here), but while the individual tracks may be shorter, they give up nothing as regards largesse of tone or the spaces the band inhabit in the material. Flowing and doomed, “Sun” ends side A and gives over to the extra-bass-punch meditativeness of “Night,” the guitar building in the second half to solo for the payoff, while the six-minutes-each “Lust” and “Emerald” filter Electric Wizard haze and the proggy volume trades of countrymen like Spaceslug, respectively, close with due affirmation of purpose in big tone, big groove, and a noteworthy dark streak that may yet come to the fore of their approach.
It’s not quite the centerpiece, but in terms of the general perspective on the world of the record from which it comes, there’s little arguing with Sonic Demon‘s “F.O.A.D.” as the declarative statement on Veterans of the Psychic War. As with Norway’s Darkthrone, who released an LP titled F.O.A.D. in 2007, Sonic Demon‘s “F.O.A.D.” stands for ‘fuck off and die,’ and that seems to be the central ethic they’re working from. Like most of what surrounds on the Italian duo’s follow-up to 2021’s Vendetta (review here), “F.O.A.D.” is coated in tonal dirt, a nastiness of buzz in line with the stated mentality making songs like swinging opener “Electric Demon” and “Lucifer’s the Light,” which follows, raw even by post-Uncle Acid garage doom standards. There are moments of letup, as in the wah-swirling second half of “The Black Pill,” a bit of psych bookending in “Wolfblood,” or the penultimate (probably thankfully) instrumental “Sexmagick Nights,” but the forward drive in “The Gates” highlights the point of Sonic Demon hand-drilling their riffs into the listener’s skull, and the actually-stoned-sounding groove of closer “To Hell and Back” seems pleased to bask in the filth the album has wrought.
If you’re taking on From the Ages‘ deceptively-titled first full-length, II — the trio of guitarist Paul Dudziak, bassist Sean Fredrich and drummer David Tucker issued their I EP in 2021, so this is their second release overall — it is perhaps useful to know that the only inclusion with vocals is opener/longest track (immediate points) “Harbinger.” An automatic focal point for that, for its transposed Sleep influence, and for being about four minutes longer than anything else on the album, it draws well together with the five sans-vox cuts that follow, with an exploratory sensibility in its jam that feels like it may be from whence a clearly-plotted song like “Maelstrom” or the lumbering volume trades of “Tenebrous” originate. Full in tone and present in the noisy slog and pre-midpoint drift of “Epoch” as well as Dudziak‘s verses in “Harbinger,” From the Ages seem willful in their intention to try out different ideas, whether that’s the winding woe of “Obsolescence” or the acoustilectric standalone guitar of closer “Providence,” and while that can make the listener less sure of where their development might take them in stylistic terms, that only results in their being more exciting to hear in the now.
Not only is Astral Magic‘s Cosmic Energy Flow — released in May of this year — not the first outing from the Finnish space rock outfit led by project founder and spearhead Santtu Laakso in 2023, it’s the eighth. And that doesn’t include the demo short release with a live band. It’s also not the latest Astral Magic about two months after the fact, as Laakso and company have put out two full-lengths since. Unrealistic as this level of productivity is — surely the work of dimensional timeporting — and already-out-of-date as the eight-song/42-minute LP might be, it also brings Laakso into collaboration with the late Nik Turner of Hawkwind, who plays sax on the opening title-track, as well as guitarists Ilya Lipkin of Russia’s The Re-Stoned and Stefan Olesinski (Nuns on Napalm), and vocalists Christina Poupoutsi (The Higher Craft, The Meads of Asphodel, etc.) and Kev Ellis (Dubbal, Heliotrope, etc.), and where one might think so many personnel shifts around Laakso‘s synth-forward basic tracks would result in a disjointed offering, well, anything can happen in space and when you throw open doors in such a way, expectations broaden accordingly. Maybe it’s just one thing on the way to the next, maybe it’s the record with Nik Turner. Either way, Astral Magic move inextricably deeper into the known and unknown cosmos.
Until the solo hits in the second half of “The Barrens,” you almost don’t realize how much space there is in the mix on Green Inferno‘s Trace the Veins. The New Jersey trio like it dank and deathly as they answer the rawness of their 2019 demo with the six Esben Willems-mastered tracks of their first album, porting over “Spellcaster” and “Unearth the Tombs” to rest in the same mud as malevolent plodders like “Carried to the Pit” and the penultimate “Vultures,” which adds higher-register screaming to the already-established low growls — I doubt it’s actually an influence, but I’m reminded of Amorphis circa Elegy — that give the whole outing such an extreme persona if the guitar and bass tones weren’t already taking care of it. The tortured feel there carries into closer “Crown the Virgin” as the three-piece attempt to stomp their own riffs into oblivion along with everything else, and one can only hope they get there. New songs or the two older tracks, doesn’t matter. At any angle you might choose, Green Inferno are slow-churned extreme sludge, death-sludge if you want, fully stoned, drenched in murk, disillusioned, misanthropic. It’s the sound of looking at the world around you and deciding it’s not worth saving. Did I mention stoned? Good.
Well here we are, at last. A couple weeks ago I looked at my calendar and ended up pushing this Quarterly Review to mid-July instead of the end of June, and it’s been hanging over my head in the interim to such a degree that I added two days to it to cover another 20 records. I’m sure it could be more. The amount of music is infinite. It just keeps going.
I’ll assume you know the deal, but here it is anyhow: 10 records per day, for seven days — Monday through Friday, plus Monday and Tuesday in this case — for a total of 70 reviews. Links and audio provided to the extent possible, and hopefully we all find some killer new music we didn’t know about before, or if we did know about it, just to enjoy. That doesn’t seem so crazy, right?
Quarterly Review #1-10:
Bongzilla, Dab City
None higher. Following extensive touring before and (to the extent possible) after the release of their 2021 album, Weedsconsin (review here), Madison, WI, canna-worship crust sludge-launchers Bongzilla return with Dab City, proffering the harsh and the mellow as only they seem to be able to do, even among their ’90s-born original-era sludge brethren. As second track “King of Weed” demonstrates, Bongzilla are aurally dank unto themselves, both in the scathing vocals of bassist Mike “Muleboy” Makela and the layered guitar of Jeff “Spanky” Schultz and the slow-swinging groove shoving all that weighted tone forward in Mike “Magma” Henry‘s drums. Through the seven tracks and 56 minutes of dense jams like those in the opening title-cut or the 13-minute “Cannonbong (The Ballad of Burnt Reynolds as Lamented by Dixie Dave Collins” (yes, from Weedeater) or the gloriously languid finale “American Pot,” the shorter instrumental “C.A.R.T.S.,” or in the relatively uptempo nodders “Hippie Stick” and “Diamonds and Flower,” Bongzilla underscore the if-you-get-it-then-you-get-it nature of their work, at once extreme in its bite and soothing in atmosphere, uncompromising in purpose. I’m not going to tell you to get bombed out of your gourd and listen, but they almost certainly did while making it, and Dab City is nothing if not an invitation to that party.
Adventures await as Redhill, UK, three-piece Trevor’s Head — guitarist/vocalist Roger Atkins, bassist/vocalist/synthesist Aaron Strachan (also kalimba), drummer/flutist/vocalist/synthesist Matt Ainsworth (also Mellotron) — signal a willfully open and progressive creativity through the heavy psych and grunge melodies of lead track “Call of the Deep” before the Primus-gone-fuzz-prog chug of “Under My Skin” and the somehow-English-pastoral “Grape Fang” balances on its multi-part harmonies and loose-feeling movement, side A trading between shorter and longer songs to end with the seven-minute, violin-inclusive folk-then-fuzz-folk highlight “Elio” before “Rumspringa” brings the proceedings to ground as only cowbell might. As relatively straight-ahead as the trio get there or in the more pointedly aggressive shover “A True Gentleman” on the other side of the Tool-ish noodling and eat-this-riff of “What Got Stuck” (answer: the thrashy gallop before the final widdly-widdly solo, in my head), they never want for complexity, and as much as it encapsulates in its depth of arrangement and linear course, closer “Don’t Make Me Ask” represents the band perhaps even more in looking forward rather than back on what was just accomplished, building on what 2018’s Soma Holiday (review here) hinted at stylistically and mindfully evolving their sound.
Born in the ’90s as Amend, turned more extreme as V and now perhaps beginning a new era as Vorder — pronounced “vee-order” — the Dalarna, Sweden, unit return with a new rhythm section behind founding guitarists Jonas Gryth (also Unhealer) and Andreas Baier (also Besvärjelsen, Afgrund, and so on) featuring bassist Marcus Mackä Lindqvist (Blodskam, Lýsis) and drummer Daniel Liljekvist (ex-Katatonia, In Mourning, Grand Cadaver, etc.) on drums, the invigorated four-piece greet a dark dawn with due presence on False Haven, bringing Baier‘s Besvärjelsen bandmate Lea Amling Alazam for guest vocals on “The Few Remaining Lights,” which seems to be consumed after its melodic opening into a lurching and organ-laced midsection like Entombed after the Isis-esque ambience of post-apocalyptic mourning in “Introspective” and “Beyond the Horizon of Life.” Beauty and darkness are not new themes for Vorder, even if False Haven is their first release under the name, and even in the bleak ‘n’ roll of the title-track there’s still room for hope if you define hope as tambourine. Which you probably should. The penultimate “Judgement Awaits” interrupts floating post-doom with vital shove and 10:32 finale “Come Undone” provides a resonant melodic answer to “The Few Remaining Lights” while paying off the album as a whole in patience, heft and fullness. Vorder use microgenres like a polyglot might switch languages, but what’s expressed from the entirety of the work is utterly their own, whatever name they use.
Multi-instrumentalist Beth Gladding (also of Forlesen, Botanist, Lotus Thief, etc.) shares vocal duties in New York’s Inherus with bassist Anthony DiBlasi (ex-Witchkiss) and fellow guitarist/synthesist Brian Harrigan (Grid, Swallow the Ocean), and the harsh/clean dynamic puts emphasis on the various textures presented throughout the band’s debut album. Completed by drummer Andrew Vogt (Lotus Thief, Swallow the Ocean), Inherus reach toward SubRosan melancholy on “Forgotten Kingdom,” which begins the hour-flat/six-track 2LP, and they follow with harmonies and grandeur to spare on “One More Fire” (something in that melody reminds me of Indigo Girls and I’m noting it because I can’t get my head away from it; not complaining) and “The Dagger,” which resolves in Amenra-style squibble and lurch without giving up its emotional depth. “Oh Brother” crushes enough to make one wonder where the line truly is between metal and post-metal, and the setup for closer “Lie to the Angels” in the drone-plus piece “Obliterated in the Face of the Gods” telegraphs the intensity to follow if not the progginess of that particular chug or the scope of what follows. Vogt signals the arrival at the album’s crescendo with stately but fast double-kick, and if you’re wondering who gets the last word, it’s feedback. Beholden may prove formative as Inherus move forward, but what their first full-length lays out as their stylistic range is at least as impressive as it is ambitious. Hope for more to come.
Even in the second half of “Tying Up the Noose” as it leads into “Give it Time” — which is about as speedy as Sonic Moon get on their Olde Magick Records-delivered first LP, Return Without Any Memory — they’re in no particular hurry. The overarching languid pace across the Aarhus five-piece’s 41-minute/seven-tracker — which reuses only the title-track from 2019’s Usually I Don’t Care for Flowers EP — makes it hypnotic even in its most active moments, but whether it’s the Denmarkana acoustic moodiness of centerpiece “Through the Snow,” the steady nod of “Head Under the River” later or the post-All Them Witches psych-blues conveyed in opener “The Waters,” Sonic Moon are able to conjure landscapes from fuzzed tonality that could just as easily have been put to use for traditional doom as psych-leaning heavy rock, uniting the songs through that same fuzz and the melody of the vocals as “Head Under the River” spaces out ahead of its slowdown or “Hear Me Now” eschews the huge finish in favor of a more unassuming, gentler letting go, indicative of the thoughtfulness behind their craft and their presentation of the material. Familiar enough on paper and admirably, unpretentiously itself, the self-recorded Return Without Any Memory discovers its niche and comes across as being right at home in it. A welcome debut.
With cosmic doom via YOB meeting with progressive heavy rock à la Elder or Louisiana rollers Forming the Void and an undercurrent of metal besides in the chug and double-kick of “Controlled Burn,” Cleveland’s Slow Wake make their full-length debut culling together songs their 2022 Falling Fathoms EP and adding the prior-standalone “Black Stars” for 12 minutes’ worth of good measure at the end. The dense and jangly tones at the start of the title-track (where it’s specifically “Marrow”-y) or “In Waves” earlier on seem to draw more directly from Mike Scheidt‘s style of play, but “Relief” builds from its post-rocking outset to grow furious over its first few minutes headed toward a payoff that’s melody as much as crunch. “Black Stars” indulges a bit more psychedelic repetition, which could be a sign of things to come or just how it worked out on that longer track, but Slow Wake lay claim to significant breadth regardless, and have the structural complexity to work in longer forms without losing themselves either in jams or filler. With a strong sense of its goals, Falling Fathoms puts Slow Wake on a self-aware trajectory of growth in modern prog-heavy style. That is, they know what they’re doing and they know why. To show that alone on a first record makes it a win. Their going further lets you know to keep an eye out for next time as well.
The Fierce and the Dead, News From the Invisible World
Unearthing a bit of earlier-Queens of the Stone Age compression fuzz in the start-stop riff of “Shake the Jar” is not even scratching the surface as regards textures put to use by British progressive heavies The Fierce and the Dead on their fourth album, News From the Invisible World. Comprised of eight songs varied in mood and textures around a central ethic clearly intent on not sounding any more like anyone else than it has to, the collection is the first release from the band to feature vocals. Those are handled ably by bassist Kev Feazey, but it’s telling as to the all-in nature of the band that, in using singing for the first time, they employ no fewer than six guest vocalists, mostly but not exclusively on opener/intro “The Start.” From there, it’s a wild course through keyboard/synth-fed atmospheres on pieces like the Phil Collins-gone-heavy “Photogenic Love” and its side-B-capping counterpart “Nostalgia Now,” which ends like friendlier Godflesh, astrojazz experimentalism on “Non-Player,” and plenty of fuzz in “Golden Thread,” “Wonderful,” “What a Time to Be Alive,” and so on, though where a song starts is not necessarily where it’s going to end up. Given Feazey‘s apparent comfort with the task before him, it’s a wonder they didn’t make this shift earlier, but they do well in making up for lost time.
Kliwon is the second offering from Indonesia-based meditative psych exploration unit Mud Spencer to be released through Argonauta Records after 2022’s Fuzz Soup (review here), and its four component songs find France-born multi-instrumentalist Rodolphe Bellugue (also Proots, Bedhunter, etc.) constructing material of marked presence and fluidity. Opener “Suzzanna” is halfway through its nine minutes before the drums start. “Ratu Kidul” is 16 minutes of mindful breathing (musically speaking) as shimmering guitar melody pokes out from underneath the surrounding ethereal wash, darker in tone but more than just bleak. Of course “Dead on the Heavy Funk” reminds of Mr. Bungle as it metal-chugs and energetically weirds out. And the just under 16-minute “Jasmin Eater” closes out with organ and righteous fuzz bass peppered with flourish details on guitar and languid drumming, becoming heavier and consuming as it moves toward the tempo kick that’s the apex of the album. Through these diverse tracks, an intimate psychedelic persona emerges, even without vocals, and Mud Spencer continues to look inward for expanses to be conveyed before doing precisely that.
It would seem that in the interim between 2021’s Ocean of Acid EP and this five-song/41-minute debut full-length, Tyhjiö, Finnish psychedelic death-doomers Kita traded English lyrics for those in their native Finnish. No, I don’t speak it, but that hardly matters in the chant-like chorus of the title-track or the swirling pummel that surrounds as the band invent their own microgenre, metal-rooted and metal in affect, but laced with synth and able to veer into lysergic guitar atmospherics in the 10-minute opener “Kivi Puhuu” or the acoustic-led (actually it’s bass-led, but still) midsection leading to the triumphant chorus of bookending closer “Ataraksia,” uniting disparate ideas through strength of craft, tonal and structural coherence, and, apparently, sheer will. The title-track, “Torajyvä” and “Kärpässilmät,” with the centerpiece cut as the shortest, make for a pyramid-style presentation (broader around its base), but Kita are defined by what they do, drawing extremity from countrymen like Swallow the Sun or Amorphis, among others, and turning it into something of their own. Striking in the true sense of: it feels like being punched. But punched while you hang out on the astral plane.
Greek fuzz alert! Heavy rocking three-piece Embargo hail from Thessaloniki with their first long-player, High Seas, using winding aspects of progressive metal to create tension in the starts and stops of “Billow,” “EAT” and “Candy” as spoken verses in the latter and “Alanna Finch” draw a line between the moody noise rock of Helmet, the grunge it informed, and the heavy rock that emerged (in part) from that. Running 10 tracks and 44 minutes, High Seas is quick in marking out the smoothness of its low tonality, and it veers into and out of what one might consider aggression in terms of style, “with 22 22” thoughtfully composed and sharply pointed in kind, one of several instrumentals to offset some of the gruffer stretches or a more patient melodic highlight like “Draupner,” which does little to hide its affinity for Soundgarden and is only correct to showcase it. They also finish sans-vocals in the title-track, and there’s almost a letting-loose sense to “High Seas” itself, shaking out some shuffle in the first half before peaking in the second. Greece is among Europe’s most packed and vibrant undergrounds, and with High Seas, Embargo begin to carve their place within it.
