Hey there and welcome back to the Spring 2023 Quarterly Review. Today I’ve got another 10-record batch for your perusal, and if you’ve never been to this particular party before, it’s part of an ongoing series this site does every couple months (you might say quarterly), and this week picks up from yesterday as well as a couple weeks ago, when another 70 records of various types were covered. If there’s a lesson to be learned from all of it, it’s that we live in a golden age of heavy music, be it metal, rock, doom, sludge, psych, prog, noise or whathaveyou. Especially for whathaveyou.

So here we are, you and I, exploring the explorations in these many works and across a range of styles. As always, I hope you find something that feels like it’s speaking directly to you. For what it’s worth, I didn’t even make it through the first 10 of the 50 releases to be covered this week yesterday without ordering a CD from Bandcamp, so I’m here in a spirit of learning too. We’ll go together and dive back in.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Smokey Mirror, Smokey Mirror

Those in the know will tell you that the vintage-sound thing is over, everybody’s a goth now, blah blah heavygaze. That sounds just fine with Dallas, Texas, boogie rockers Smokey Mirror, who on their self-titled Rise Above Records first LP make their shuffle a party in “Invisible Hand” and the class-conscious “Pathless Forest” even before they dig into the broader jam of the eight-minute “Magick Circle,” panning the solos in call and response, drum solo, softshoe groove, full on whatnot. Meanwhile, “Alpha-State Dissociative Trance” would be glitch if it had a keyboard on it, a kind of math rock from 1972, and its sub-three-minute stretch is followed by the acoustic guitar/harmonica folk blues of “Fried Vanilla Super Trapeze” and the heavy fuzz resurgence of “Sacrificial Altar,” which is long like “Magick Circle” but with more jazz in its winding jam and more of a departure into it (four minutes into the total 7:30 if you’re wondering), while the Radio Moscow-style smooth bop and rip of “A Thousand Days in the Desert” and shred-your-politics of “Who’s to Say” act as touch-ground preface for the acoustic noodle and final hard strums of “Recurring Nightmare,” as side B ends in mirror to side A. An absolute scorcher of a debut and all the more admirable for wearing its politics on its sleeve where much heavy rock hides safe behind its “I’m not political” whiteness, Smokey Mirror‘s Smokey Mirror reminds that, every now and again, those in the know don’t know shit. Barnburner heavy rock and roll forever.

Smokey Mirror on Facebook

Rise Above Records website

—

 

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows, Hail to the Underground

The moral of the story is that the members of Melbourne’s Jack Harlon and the Dead Crows — may they someday be famous enough that I won’t feel compelled to point out that none of them is Jack; the lineup is comprised of vocalist/guitarist Tim Coutts-Smith, guitarist Jordan Richardson, bassist Liam Barry and drummer Josh McCombe — came up in the ’90s, or at least in the shadow thereof. Hail to the Underground collects eight covers in 35 minutes and is the Aussie rockers’ first outing for Blues Funeral, following two successful albums in 2018’s Hymns and 2021’s The Magnetic Ridge (review here), and while on paper it seems like maybe it’s the result of just-signed-gotta-get-something-out motivation, the takes on tunes by Aussie rockers God, the Melvins, Butthole Surfers, My Bloody Valentine and Joy Division (their “Day of Lords” is a nodding highlight) rest organically alongside the boogie blues of “Roll & Tumble” (originally by Hambone Willie Newbern), the electrified surge of Bauhaus‘ “Dark Entries” and the manic peaks of “Eye Shaking King” by Amon Düül II. It’s not the triumphant, moment-of-arrival third full-length one awaits — and it would be soon for it to be, but it’s how the timing worked with the signing — but Hail to the Underground adds complexity to the narrative of the band’s sound in communing with Texan acid noise, country blues from 1929 to emo and goth rock icons in a long-player’s span, and it’ll certainly keep the fire burning until the next record gets here.

Jack Harlon & The Dead Crows on Facebook

Blues Funeral Recordings website

—

 

Noorag, Fossils

Minimalist in social media presence (though on YouTube and Bandcamp, streaming services, etc.), Sardinian one-man outfit Noorag — also stylized all-lowercase: noorag — operates at the behest of multi-instrumentalist/producer Federico “WalkingFred” Paretta, and with drums by Daneiele Marcia, the project’s debut EP, Fossils, collects seven short pieces across 15 minutes that’s punk in urgency, sans-vocal in the execution, sludged in tone, metallic in production, and adventurous in some of its time changes. Pieces like the ambient opener “Hhon” and “Amanita Shot,” which follows headed on the quick into the suitably stomping “Brachiopod” move easily between each other since the songs themselves are tied together through their instrumental approach and relatively straightforward arrangements. “Cochlea Stone” is a centerpiece under two minutes long with emphasis rightfully on the bass, while “Ritual Electric” teases the stonershuggah nuance in the groove of “Acid Apricot”‘s second half, and the added “Digital Cave” roughs up the recording while maybe or maybe not actually being the demo it claims to be. Are those drums programmed? We may never know, but at a quarter of an hour long, it’s not like Noorag are about to overstay their welcome. Fitting for the EP format as a way to highlight its admirable intricacy, Fossils feels almost ironically fresh and sounds like the beginning point of a broader progression. Here’s hoping.

Noorag on YouTube

Noorag on Bandcamp

—

 

KOLLAPS\E, Phantom Centre

With the notable exceptions of six-minute opener “Era” and the 8:36 “Uhtceare” with the gradual build to its explosion into the “Stones From the Sky” moment that’s a requisite for seemingly all post-metal acts to utilize at least once (they turn it into a lead later, which is satisfying), Sweden’s KOLLAPS\E — oh your pesky backslash — pair their ambient stretches with stately, shout-topped declarations of riff that sound like early Isis with the clarity of production and intent of later Isis, which is a bigger difference than it reads. The layers of guttural vocals at the forefront of “Anaemia” add an edge of extremity offset by the post-rock float of the guitar, and “Bränt Barn Skyr Elden” (‘burnt child dreads the fire,’ presumably a Swedish aphorism) answers by building tension subtly in its first two minutes before going full-barrage atmosludge for the next as it, “Anaemia,” and the closing pair of “Radiant Static” and “Murrain” harness short-song momentum on either side of four minutes long — something the earlier “Beautiful Desolate” hinted at between “Era” and “Uhtceare” — to capture a distinct flow for side B and giving the ending of “Murrain” its due as a culmination for the entire release. Crushing or spacious or both when it wants to be, Phantom Centre is a strong, pandemic-born debut that looks forward while showing both that it’s schooled in its own genre and has begun to decide which rules it wants to break.

KOLLAPS\E on Facebook

Trepanation Recordings on Bandcamp

—

 

Healthyliving, Songs of Abundance, Psalms of Grief

A multinational conglomerate that would seem to be at least partially assembled in Edinburg, Scotland, Healthyliving — also all-lowercase: healthyliving — offer folkish melodicism atop heavy atmospheric rock for a kind of more-present-than-‘gaze-implies feel that is equal parts meditative, expansive and emotive on their debut full-length, Songs of Abundance, Psalms of Grief. With the vocals of Amaya López-Carromero (aka Maud the Moth) given a showcase they more than earn via performance, multi-instrumentalist Scott McLean (guitar, bass, synth) and drummer Stefan Pötzsch are able to conjure the scene-setting heft of “Until,” tap into grunge strum with a gentle feel on “Bloom” or meander into outright crush with ambient patience on “Galleries” (a highlight) or move through the intensity of “To the Gallows,” the unexpected surge in the bridge of “Back to Back” or the similarly structured but distinguished through the vocal layering and melancholic spirit of the penultimate “Ghost Limbs” with a long quiet stretch before closer “Obey” wraps like it’s raking leaves in rhythm early and soars on a strident groove that caps with impact and sprawl. They are not the only band operating in this sphere of folk-informed heavy post-rock by any means, but as their debut, this nine-song collection pays off the promise of their 2021 two-songer Until/Below (review here) and heralds things to come both beautiful and sad.

Healthyliving on Facebook

LaRubia Producciones website

—

 

MV & EE, Green Ark

Even before Vermont freak-psych two-piece MV & EE — Matt Valentine and Erika Elder, both credited with a whole bunch of stuff including, respectively, ‘the real deal’ and ‘was’ — are nestled into the organic techno jam of 19-minute album opener “Free Range,” their Green Ark full-length has offered lush lysergic hypnosis via an extended introductory drone. Far more records claim to go anywhere than actually do, but the funky piano of “No Money” and percussion and wah dream-disco of “Dancin’,” with an extra-fun keyboard line late, set up the 20-minute “Livin’ it Up,” in a way that feels like surefooted experimentalism; Elder and Valentine exploring these aural spaces with the confidence of those who’ve been out wandering across more than two decades’ worth of prior occasions. That is to say, “Livin’ it Up” is comfortable as it engages with its own unknown self, built up around a bass line and noodly solo over a drum machine with hand percussion accompanying, willfully repetitive like the opener in a way that seems to dig in and then dig in again. The 10-minute “Love From Outer Space” and nine-minute mellow-psych-but-for-the-keyboard-beat-hitting-you-in-the-face-and-maybe-a-bit-of-play-around-that-near-the-end “Rebirth” underscore the message that the ‘out there’ is the starting point rather than the destination for MV & EE, but that those brave enough to go will be gladly taken along.

MV & EE Blogspot

Ramble Records store

—

 

The Great Machine, Funrider

Israeli trio The Great Machine — brothers Aviran Haviv (bass/vocals) and Omer Haviv (guitar/vocals) as well as drummer/vocalist Michael Izaky — find a home on Noisolution for their fifth full-length in nine years, Funrider, trading vocal duties back and forth atop songs that pare down some of the jammier ideology of 2019’s less-than-ideally-titled Greatestits, still getting spacious in side-A ender “Pocketknife” and the penultimate “Some Things Are Bound to Fail,” which is also the longest inclusion at 6:05. But the core of Funrider is in the quirk and impact of rapid-fire cuts like “Zarathustra” and “Hell & Back” at the outset, the Havivs seeming to trade vocal duties throughout to add to the variety as the rumble before the garage-rock payoff of “Day of the Living Dead” gives over to the title-track or that fuzzier take moves into “Pocketknife.” Acoustic guitar starts “Fornication Under the Consent of the King” but it becomes sprinter Europunk bombast before its two minutes are done, and with the rolling “Notorious” and grungeminded “Mountain She” ripping behind, the most unifying factor throughout Funrider is its lack of predictability. That’s no minor achievement for a band on their fifth record making a shift in their approach after a decade together, but the desert rocking “The Die” that closes with a rager snuck in amid the chug is a fitting summary of the trio’s impressive creative reach.

The Great Machine on Facebook

Noisolution store

—

 

Swanmay, Frantic Feel

Following-up their 2017 debut, Stoner Circus, Austrian trio Swanmay offer seven songs and 35 minutes of new material with the self-issued Frantic Feel, finding their foundation in the bass work of Chris Kaderle and Niklas Lueger‘s drumming such that Patrick Àlvaro‘s ultra-fuzzed guitar has as strong a platform to dance all over as possible. Vocals in “The Art of Death” are suitably drunk-sounding (which doesn’t actually hurt it), but “Mashara” and “Cats and Snails” make a rousing opening salvo of marked tonal depth and keep-it-casual stoner saunter, soon also to be highlighted in centerpiece “Blooze.” On side B, “Stone Cold” feels decidedly more like it has its life together, and “Old Trails” tightens the reins from there in terms of structure, but while closer “Dead End” stays fuzzy and driving like the two songs before, the noise quotient is upped significantly by the time it’s done, and that brings back some of the looser swing of “Mashara” or “The Art of Death.” But when Swanmay want to be — and that’s not all the time, to their credit — they are massively heavy, and they put that to raucous use with a production that is accordingly loud and vibrant. Seems simple reading a paragraph, maybe, but the balance they strike in these songs is a difficult one, and even if it’s just for the guitar and bass tones, Frantic Feel demands an audience.

Swanmay on Facebook

Swanmay on Bandcamp

—

 

Garden of Ash, Garden of Ash

“Death will come swiftly to those who are weak,” goes the crooning verse lyric from Garden of Ash‘s “Death Valley” at the outset of the young Edmonton, Alberta, trio’s self-titled, self-released debut full-length. Bassist Kristina Hunszinger delivers the line with due severity, but the Witch Mountain-esque slow nod and everybody-dies lyrics of “A Cautionary Tale” show more of the tongue-in-cheek point of view of the lyrics. The plot thickens — or at very least hits harder — when the self-recorded outing’s metallic production style is considered. In the drums of Levon Vokins — who also provides backing vocals as heard on “Roses” and elsewhere — the (re-amped) guitar of Zach Houle and even in the mostly-sans-effects presentation of Hunszinger‘s vocals as well as their placement at the forefront of the mix, it’s heavy metal more than heavy rock, but as Vokins takes lead vocals in “World on Fire” with Hunszinger joining for the chorus, the riff is pure boogie and the earlier “Amnesia” fosters doomly swing, so what may in the longer term be a question of perspective is yet unanswered in terms of are they making the sounds they want to and pushing into trad metal genre tenets, or is it just a matter of getting their feet under them as a new band? I don’t know, but songs and performance are both there, so this first full-length does its job in giving Garden of Ash something from which to move forward while serving notice to those with ears to hear them. Either way, the bonus track “Into the Void” is especially notable for not being a Black Sabbath cover, and by the time they get there, that’s not at all the first surprise to be had.

Garden of Ash on Facebook

Garden of Ash on Bandcamp

—

 

Tidal, The Bends

Checking in at one second less and 15 minutes flat, “The Bends” is the first release from Milwaukee-based three-piece Tidal, and it’s almost immediately expansive. With shades of El Paraiso-style jazz psych, manipulated samples and hypnotic drone at its outset, the first two minutes build into a wash with mellow keys/guitar effects (whatever, it sounds more like sax and they’re all credited with ‘noise,’ so I’m doing my best here) and it’s not until Sam Wallman‘s guitar steps forward out of the ambience surrounding at nearly four minutes deep that Alvin Vega‘s drums make their presence known. Completed by Max Muenchow‘s bass, which righteously holds the core while Wallman airs out, the roll is languid and more patient than one would expect for a first-release jam, but there’s a pickup and Tidal do get raucous as “The Bends” moves into its midsection, scorching for a bit until they quiet down again, only to reemerge at 11:10 from the ether of their own making with a clearheaded procession to carry them through the crescendo and to the letting-go-now drift of echo that caps. I hear tell they’ve got like an hour and a half of this stuff recorded and they’re going to release them one by one. They picked an intriguing one to start with as the layers of drone and noise help fill out the otherwise empty space in the instrumental jam without being overwrought or sacrificing the spontaneous nature of the track. Encouraging start. Will be ready when the next jam hits.

Tidal on Instagram

Tidal on Bandcamp

—

 

It is arguable of human art that no matter what it is or does, it will never completely encapsulate the drive behind it or the inspiration causing it to be made. I tend to believe this of great historical works — your Mona Lisas, your Sphinxes, and so on — as well as of the statues-of-nothing one finds outside office buildings. It certainly applies to my work — already, three sentences in! — and over the last two decades I’ve heard from countless songwriters and bands that it’s true for the greater part of theirs as well. Not that you can’t be happy with what you’ve done, but that some part of you always knows the motivation behind it was even stronger than the realization.

So imagine a momentous occasion. I bring this up because Australian heavy psych r-o-c-k-ers Seedy Jeezus last summer released The Hollow Earth through Lay Bare Recordings, as a double-LP, and more, as a moment captured. I could summarize, but here’s the band’s recounting:

In Melbourne we had some crazy lockdowns, some of the strictest in the world. There was a window between lockdowns we had the chance to get a group of friends together without social distancing etc… so we took the chance to get into a studio, and have a bbq, catch up and a jam. Mark flew in from Tasmania for a rehearsal the day before the recording session.

What we got was a great testament to where we were after lockdowns and very little time together. During lockdown Lex had learnt to play Voodoo Chile and dropped it on the band to cover it… we selected a mixx of old n new for the session. We played 2 sets, and thought wed get a album out of it, but as it turned out we had enough for a double album.

This went down at Studio One B here in Melbourne, with David Warner engineering it all. Tony Reed came on and mixed n mastered what we sent him, and did a killer job. Stephen Boxshall took the cover photo and with a little help from our friends it all came together.

And there you are. That guitarist/vocalist Lex Waterreus learned Jimi Hendrix‘s “Voodoo Child (Slight Return)” is something that comes up between the songs as either bassist Paul Crick or drummer Mark Sibson chimes in, after Waterreus says “I was bored during lockdown and learned it,” that then the rest of the band had to do the same to make the cover. Fair enough. They rip the galaxy open with it though, so I assume it was all worthwhile.

That cover is also the tip of the 75-minute 2LP iceberg that is The Hollow Earth. If you’ve ever had the pleasure of engaging Seedy Jeezus‘ studio work — their latest proper full-length is 2018’s Polaris Oblique (review here) but they’ve done live stuff and one-offs since — you’ll know they walk the line between stretched-out heavy psych and more traditional rock, structure and ‘out-there’ vibes pervading at the same time. They’re not the first with a similar blend, but they do it exceedingly well, and as they run through two sets on The Hollow Earth for a lockdown-era gathering of friends, you can hear them digging all the way in, getting it while they can because who the hell knows when they’ll be able to again?

Even before you get to the bass leading the way through “Echoes in the Sky” with the drums at the foundation and the guitar gone a-wanderin’ in a fantastic display of classic chemistry and Seedy Jeezus‘ own dynamic in particular, or the 11-minute Floydian highlight “Dripping From the Eye of the Sun” with its own jam giving a slight return to the earlier parenthetical in the Hendrix tune, as a concept it’s a beautiful thing to capture. However many people were there, it’s enough to sound like at least a small crowd in between songs, and for all the implied intimacy of that, Seedy Jeezus bring the full breadth of their sound, be it Wattereus‘ scorching solo work in “The Golden Miles” or the later fuzzy shove of “Oh Lord Pt. 2.” I know everybody’s tired of hearing about the pandemic and I am too, but this isn’t about the lockdown so much as the vital creative spirit that persisted through it. The same need that had humans drawing on cave walls tens of thousands of years ago made this. What an incredible species we can be when we’re not busy killing or otherwise being complete assholes to each other, the planet, animals, and so on.

They start quiet and gradual with the ‘strap yourselves in, kids’ unfolding of “Is There All That Is,” which immediately demonstrates the malleability of structure in the band’s grasp, the openness with which they approach their own work. They’re jammers, is what I’m telling you, even when the jam has a set destination in mind via a vis the next chorus, the quiet part, whatever, to which it will eventually return the audience. But man, these cats really go, and The Hollow Earth, for every moment like the righteous crash into the second verse of “Wormhole” and the freelance fiending that ensues has a corresponding fleshout, like the 16-minute take on “How Ya Doin'” that for most acts would be a career landmark but here is delivered, well, not with no ceremony, because certainly it’s a good time, but with some sense of being understated when it comes to the actual vibrancy of the material being explored.

I wonder if they had chairs or if people sat on the floor. Studio couches for those who got there early? How was the barbecue? Burgers and dogs, curried sausages, what? How long was the party? How soon after did Melbourne go back into lockdown? Did they know it was coming? Just how true is the getting-away-with-it narrative around the record’s making?

Maybe it’s better not to know. Maybe it adds mystique so often absent from the world of immediate access, cloying social media content and storyline positioning. In any case, Seedy Jeezus did two sets as part of one show and got a double-vinyl out of it, and if you ever needed an example of an offering hurt by the pressing delays that slammed record manufacturing between 2020-2022, this is it. Beset by bullshit. By the time it came out last summer, it already seemed to be a historical document, and it may be years before it can be rightly and fully embraced for what it captures and the vibe throughout, never mind the actual sound of the thing. Such as it ever ended, it was a weird time to be alive. Tucked into the middle of it, this must’ve been a hell of a night.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

My alarm went off at 3AM. The first time. Then four. By the time the last one came around at 5:30, I was already up, but it felt like a luxury nonetheless. I needed the sleep, I guess.

Was feeling pretty light on motivation this week after finishing the Quarterly Review (for now), thinking about what a bummer it is to lose the Gimme Metal show because they’re shutting down the app, and so on. That and dividing my attention between writing and keeping up with the GoFundMe for Leanne from Riff Relevant/Mettle MediaGoFundMe for Leanne from Riff Relevant/Mettle Media as it met, passed, met and passed again its goals, plus a decent amount of fuckoff time was where my head was at. I’m glad to have reviewed the Black Moon Circle, Fuzz Sagrado and Dozer records. Next week is Ruff Majik and I’ve already talked about that. There’s other stuff too, but in my mind that’s the centerpiece of the week. It’ll be posted on Thursday.

This weekend I’m in Maryland for wedding of The Patient Mrs.’ brother, who lives in Baltimore. That’ll be fine, if a little harried chasing down The Pecan, whose new dress for it is lovely and bound to be wrecked by wearing if not immediately then almost certainly soon thereafter. So it goes in the way of things that go. Pretty much nonstop.

I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Wherever you’re at, I hope the weather is good and you’re comfortable and not worried about money or some other bullshit. Watch your head, don’t forget to hydrate, and don’t tell me spoilers for the ending of Star Trek: Picard, because I haven’t watched it yet (yeah I read a review but comprehension is low and of course I want to see it for myself). In any case, thanks for reading.

FRM.

The Obelisk Collective on Facebook

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

Kind of an odd Quarterly Review, huh? I know. The two extra days. Well, here’s the thing. I’ve already got the better part of a 50-record QR booked for next month. I’ve slid a few of those albums in here to replace things I already covered blah blah whatever, but there’s just a ton of stuff out right now, and a lot of it I want to talk about, so yeah. I tacked on the two extra days here to get to 70 records, and in May we’ll do another 50, and if you want to count that as Spring (I can’t decide yet if I do or not; if you’ve got an opinion, I’d love to hear it in the comments), that’s 120 records covered even if I start over and go from 1-50 instead of 71-120. Any way you go, it’s nearly enough that you could listen to two records per week for the next full year based just on two weeks and two days of posts.

That’s insane. And yet here we are. Two weeks in a row wouldn’t have been enough, and any more than that and I get so backed up on other stuff that whatever stress I undercut by covering a huge swath in the QR is replaced by being so behind on everything that isn’t said QR. Does that make sense at all? No? Well fine then. Shit.

Quarterly Review #51-60:

Ecstatic Vision, Live at Duna Jam

This is a good thing for everyone. Here’s why: For the band? Easy. They get a new thing to sell at the merch table on their upcoming European tour. Win. For the label? Obviously the cash from whatever they sell, plus the chance to showcase one of their acts tearing it up on European soil. “Check out how awesome this shit is plus we’re behind it.” Always good for branding. For fans of the band, well, you already know you need it. I don’t have to tell you that. But Ecstatic Vision‘s Live at Duna Jam — as a greater benefit to the universe around it — runs deeper than that. It’s an example to follow. You wanna see, wanna hear how it’s done? This is how it’s done, kids. You get up on that stage, step out on that beach, and you throw everything you have into your art, every fucking time. This is who Ecstatic Vision are. They’re the band who blow minds like the trees in the old videos of A-bomb tests. They’ve got six songs here, a clean 38-minute live LP, and for the betterment of existence in general, you can absolutely hear in it the ferocity with which Ecstatic Vision deliver live. The fact that it’s from Duna Jam — the ultimate Eurofest daydream — is neat, but so help me gawd they could’ve recorded it in a Philly basement and they’d still be this visceral. That’s who they are. And if we, as listeners, are lucky, others will hear this and follow their example.

Ecstatic Vision on Facebook

Heavy Psych Sounds website

—

 

Usnea, Bathed in Light

Oppressive in atmosphere regardless of volume but with plenty of volume to go around, Portland all-doomers Usnea return after six years with their third full-length, Bathed in Light, a grueling and ultimately triumph-of-death-ant work spanning six songs and 43 minutes of unremitting drear positioned in the newer-school vein of emotionally resonant extreme death-doom. Plodding until it isn’t, wrenching in its screams until it isn’t, the album blossoms cruelties blackened and crushing and makes the chanting in “Premeditatio Malorum” not at all out of place just the same, the slow-churning metal unrelentingly brutal as it shifts into caustic noise in that penultimate track — just one example among the many scattered throughout of the four-piece turning wretched sounds into consuming landscapes. The earlier guitar squeals on “The Compleated Sage” would be out of place if not for the throatripping and blastbeating happening immediately prior, and whether it’s the synth at the outset and the soaring guitar at the end of “To the Deathless” or the Bell Witchian ambient start to closer “Uncanny Valley” — the riff, almost stoner — before it bursts to violence at three minutes into its 8:27 on the way to a duly massive, guttural finish for the record, Usnea mine cohesion from contradictions and are apparently unscathed by the ringer through which they put their audience. Sometimes nothing but the most miserable will do.

Usnea on Facebook

Translation Loss Records store

—

 

Oceanlord, Kingdom Cold

The more one listens to Kingdom Cold, the impressive Magnetic Eye Records debut LP from Melbourne, Australia’s Oceanlord, the more there is to hear. The subtle Patrick Walker-style edge in the vocals of “Kingdom” and the penultimate roller “So Cold,” the Elephant Tree-style nod riff in “2340,” the way the bass underscores the ambient guitar and layered melodies in “Siren,” the someone-in-this-band-listens-to-extreme-metal flashes in the guitar as “Isle of the Dead” heads into its midsection, and the way the shift into and through psychedelia seems so organic on closer “Come Home,” the three-piece seeming just to reach out further from where they’ve been standing all the while for the sake of adding even more breadth to the proceedings. If the Magnetic Eye endorsement didn’t already put you over the edge, I hope this will, because what Oceanlord seem to be doing — and what they did on their 2020 demo (review here), where “Isle of the Dead” and “Come Home” appeared — is to work from a foundation in doom and slow-heavy microgenres and pick the elements that most resonate with them as the basis for their songs. They bring them into their own context, which is not something everyone does on their fifth record, let alone their first. So if it’s hearing the potential that gets you on board, fine, but the important thing is you should just get on board. They’re onto something, and part of what I like about Kingdom Cold is I’m not sure what.

Oceanlord on Facebook

Magnetic Eye Records store

—

 

Morass of Molasses, End All We Know

Thoroughly fuzzed and ready to rock, Reading, UK, three-piece Morass of Molasses follow 2019’s The Ties That Bind (review here) with their third album and Ripple Music label debut, End All We Know, breaking eight songs into two fascinatingly-close-to-even sides running a total of 37 minutes of brash swing and stomp as baritone guitarist/vocalist Bones Huse, bassist Phil Williams and drummer Raj Puni embrace more progressive constructions for their familiar and welcome tonal richness. With Huse‘s vocals settling into a Nick Oliveri-style bark on opener “The Origin of North” and the likes of “Hellfayre” and “Naysayer” on side A, the pattern seems to be set, but the key is third track “Sinkhole,” which prefaces some of the changes the four cuts on side B bring about, trading burl and brash for more dug in arrangements, psychedelic flourish on “Slingshot Around the Sun” and “Terra Nova” — they’re still grounded structurally, but the melodic reach expands significantly and the guitar twists in “Terra Nova” feel specifically heavy psych-derived — before “Prima Materia” combines those hazy colours with prog-rock insistences and “Wings of Reverie” meets metallic soloing with Elder-style expanse. Not a record they could’ve made five years ago, End All We Know comes through as a moment of realization for Morass of Molasses, and their delivery does justice to the ambition behind it.

Morass of Molasses on Facebook

Ripple Music website

—

 

Fuzzy Grapes, Volume 1

Real headfucker, this one. And I’ll admit, the temptation to leave the review at that is significant, since so much of the intent behind Fuzzy Grapes‘ Volume 1 seems to be a headfirst dive into the deepweird, but the samples, effects, of course fuzz and gong-and-chant-laced brazenness with which the Flagstaff, Arizona, unit set out on “Sludge Fang,” the Mikael Åkerfeldtian growls in “Snake Dagger” and the art-surf poetry reading in “Dust of Three Strings” that becomes a future cavern of synth and noise before the “Interlude” of birdsong and meditative noodling mark a procession too individual to be ignored. Three songs, break, three songs, break goes the structure of the 25-minute debut offering from the five-piece outfit, and by the time “The Cosmic Throne” begins its pastoral progadelic “ahh”s and dreamy ride cymbal jazz, one should be well content to have no idea what’s coming next. Once upon a time elsewhere in the Southwest, there was a collective of kitchen-sink heavy punkers named Leeches of Lore, and Fuzzy Grapes tap some similar adventurousness of spirit, but rarely is a band so much their own thing their first time out. “Made of Solstice” harsh-barks to offset its indie-grunge verse, fleshing out the bassy roll with effects or keys from the chorus onward, jamming like Blind Melon just ran into Amon Amarth getting gas at the Circle K. “Goatcult” ties together some of it with the harsh/chant vocal blend and a cymbal-led push, finishing with the line “Every day the world is ending” before the epilogue “Outro” plays like a vintage 78RPM record singing something about when you’re dead. Don’t expect to understand it the first time though, or maybe the first eight, but know that it’s worth pursuing and meeting the band on their level. I want to hear what they do next and how/if their approach might solidify.

Fuzzy Grapes on Facebook

Fuzzy Grapes on Bandcamp

—

 

Iress, Solace EP

Conveying genuine emotionality and reach in the vocals of Michelle Malley, the four-track Solace EP from L.A.’s Iress turns its humble 16 minutes into an expressive soundscape of what the kids these days seem to call doomgaze, with post-rock float in the guitar of Graham Walker (who makes his first appearance here) atop the solemn and heavy-bottomed grooves of bassist Michael Maldonado and drummer Glenn Chu for a completeness of experience that’s all the more immersive on headphones in a close-your-eyes kind of listen — that low contemplation of bass after 2:20 into “Soft,” for example, is one of a multitude of details worth appreciating — and though leadoff piece “Blush” begins with a quick rise of feedback and rolls forth with a distinct Jesu-style melancholy, Iress are no less effective or resonant in the sans-drums first two minutes of “Vanish” in accentuating atmosphere before the big crash-in finishes and “Ricochet” offers further dynamic display in its loud/quiet trades, graceful and unhurried in their transitions, the surge of the not-cloying hook densely weighted but not out of place either behind “Vanish” or ahead of “Soft,” even as it’s patience over impact being emphasized as Malley intones “I’m not ready” as a thread through the song. Permit me to disagree with that assessment. The whole band sounds ready, be it for a follow-up album to 2020’s Flaw (which was their second LP) or whatever else may come.

Iress on Facebook

Dune Altar website

—

 

Frogskin, III – Into Disgust

Long-running Finnish troupe Frogskin ooze forth with extremity of purpose even before the harsh-throated declarations of 10-minute opener “Mistress Divine” kick in, and III – Into Disgust maintains the high (or purposefully low, depending on how you want to look at it) standard that initial millstone-slowness sets as “Of Vermin and Man” (8:30) continues the scathe and tension in its unfolding and the somehow-thicker, sample-inclusive centerpiece “Serpent Path” (7:21) highlights violent intention on the way to the shift that brings the atmosphere forward on the two-minute still-a-song “B.B.N.T.B.N.” — the acronym: ‘Bound by nature to be nothing’ — which feels likewise pathological and methodical ahead of closer “The Pyre” (11:46). One might expect in listening that at some point Frogskin will break out at a sprint and start either playing death or black metal, grindcore, etc., but no. They don’t. They don’t give you that. And that’s the point. You don’t get relief or release. There’s no safe energetic payoff waiting. III – Into Disgust is aural quicksand, exclusively. Do not expect mercy because there’s none coming.

Frogskin on Facebook

Iron Corpse store

Violence in the Veins website

—

 

Albinö Rhino, Return to the Core

No strangers to working in longform contexts or casting spacier fare amid their doom-rooted riffery, Helsinki’s Albinö Rhino downplay the latter somewhat on their single-song Return to the Core full-length. Their first 12″ since 2016’s Upholder (review here), the trio of guitarist/vocalist/Moogist Kimmo Tyni, bassist/vocalist VH and drummer Viljami Väre welcome back Scott “Dr. Space” Heller (also of Space Rock Productions, Øresund Space Collective, etc.) for a synthy guest appearance and Mikko Heikinpoika on vocals and Olli Laamanen on keys, and the resultant scope of “Return to the Core” is duly broad, spreading outward from its acoustic-guitar beginning into cosmic doom rock with a thicker riff breaking doors down at 9:30 or so and a jammed-feeling journey into the greater ‘out there’ that ensues. That back and forth plays out a couple times as they manifest the title in the piece itself — the core being perhaps the done-live basic tracks then expanded through overdubs to the final form — but even when the song devolves starting after the solo somewhere around 22 minutes in, they’re mindful as well as hypnotic en route to the utter doom that transpires circa 24:30, and that they finish in a manner that ties together both aspects tells you there’s been a plan at work all along. They execute it with particular refinement and fluidity.

Albinö Rhino on Facebook

Space Rock Productions website

—

 

Cleõphüzz, Mystic Vulture

Self-released posthumous to the defunctification of the Quebecois band itself, Mystic Vulture ends up as a rousing swansong for what could’ve been from Cleõphüzz, hitting a nerve with “Desert Rider”‘s blend of atmosphere and grit, cello adding to the space between bass and guitar before the engrossing gang chants round out. With its 46 minutes broken into the two sides of the vinyl issue it will no doubt eventually receive, the eight-song offering — their debut, by the way — makes vocal points of the extended “Desperado” with its organ (I think?) mixed in amid the classic-style fuzz and “Shutdown in the Afterlife” bringing the strings further to the center in an especially spacious close. But whether it’s there or in the respective intros “The End” and “Sarcophage” or the proggy float of “Sortilège” or the Canadiana instrumental and vocal exploration of the title-track itself, Mystic Vulture flows easily across its material, varied but not so far out as to lose its human underpinning, and is more journey than destination. It’s gotten some hype — I think in part because the band aren’t together anymore; heavy music always wants what it can’t have — but in arrangement as well as songwriting, Cleõphüzz crafted the material here with a clear sense of perspective, and the apparent loss of potential becomes part of hearing the album. Some you win, some you lose. At least they got this out.

Cleõphüzz on Facebook

Cleõphüzz on Bandcamp

—

 

Arriver, Azimuth

Expansive metal. Azimuth is the fourth long-player and first in seven years from Chicago progressive/post-metallers Arriver, who answer melody with destruction and crunch with sprawl. From opener “Reenactor” onward, they follow structural paths that are as likely to meld meditative psych with death metal (looking at you, “Only On”) as they are to combust in charred punker aggro rage on “Constellate” or second track “Knot.” The 10-minute penultimate title-track would seem to represent the crossroads at which these ideas meet — a summary as much as anything could hope to be — but even that isn’t the end of it as “None More Unknown” makes dramatic folkish proclamations before concluding with a purposeful nod. “In the Only” winds lead guitar through what might otherwise be post-hardcore, while “Carrion Sun” duly reeks of death in the desert, the complexity of the drum work alone lending gotta-hear status. Plenty of bands claim to be led by their songs. I won’t say I know how Arriver assembled these pieces to make the entirety of Azimuth, but if the band were to say they sat back and let the record write itself and follow its own impulses, I’d believe them more than most. Bound to alienate as well as engage, it is its own thing in its own place, and commanding in its moments of epiphany.

Arriver on Facebook

Arriver on Bandcamp

—

 

Heavy blues rockers Child have booked a run of mostly-east-coast tour dates in their home country of Australia to support the recent release of their third album, Soul Murder (review here). That record has a bit of a temporal slip going on, since it was recorded at least largely in 2018 and only greets public ears now, but that’s still long enough for it to show progression from 2016’s Blueside (review here) — 2018’s I EP (review here) makes that seven-year stretch between LPs somewhat less mammoth — and if you haven’t heard it, god damn, the songs.

Headlined by a virtuoso performance from guitarist/vocalist Mathias Northway, and with the classic heavy rock rhythm section of bassist Danny Smith (since replaced by Rhys Kelly) and drummer Michael Lowe at its foundation, Soul Murder collects seven individual pieces with an unmitigated flow between them and while coming across as oh-you-know-nothin’-too-fancy casual on its face — not literally, the Nick Keller cover art is likewise gorgeous and epic — it harnesses a ’70s spirit through a presentation all its own.

It is quite an album, in other words, and if you didn’t hear it, I’d advise you hit play on the Bandcamp embed below and kiss a decent portion of your afternoon goodbye as you lose yourself in its dynamic sprawl. The tour dates, which are set for April and May, follow here, as posted on social media with some additional comment from Northway. And by the way, if you’re not from Oz or have never seen Bluey, a dunny is a toilet.

Here you go:

CHILD – Soul Murder Tour 2023

Says Mathias Northway (guitar/vocals): “After being lost at sea on a sinking ship there is no better feeling than seeing land. Especially when everyone is there waiting on the beach for you.”

“I’m comin’ around to use your dunny and drink your beers.”

TICKETS: https://linktr.ee/childtheband

April 8 Tanswells Hotel Beechworth VIC
April 14 The Barwon Club Geelong VIC
April 15 The Brunswick Ballroom Melbourne VIC
April 20 Mo’s Desert Clubhouse Gold Coast QLD
April 21 Bad Luck Brisbane QLD
April 22 Factory Floor Sydney NSW
April 24 UniBar Adelaide SA
April 28 SoundBar Capel Sound VIC
April 29 TBC
May 5 Transit Bar Canberra ACT
May 6 The Eastern Ballarat VIC

Child are:
Mathias Northway – guitar/vocals
Rhys Kelly – bass
Michael Lowe – drums

https://www.facebook.com/childtheband
https://www.instagram.com/childtheband/
https://childtheband.bandcamp.com
https://www.youtube.com/childtheband
http://www.childtheband.com

Child, Soul Murder (2023)

Child are all-in on heavy blues. It’s been seven years since the release of their second album, 2016’s Blueside (review here), nine since they issued their 2014 self-titled debut (discussed here) and five even since their 2018 I EP (review here), but somehow when the Melbourne trio led by guitarist/vocalist Mathias Northway lock into the sweet flowing fuzz boogie of “Free and Humble” — also released as a single in 2020 — as the first of seven songs dug into classic heavy vibes, organic performance-capture and soul, time seems to matter much, much less. Soul Murder is a severe title — it was originally Soul Merda, which they were correct in changing — and to coincide with the once-again-stunning Nick Keller oil-on-canvas cover art playing off ‘The Creation of Adam,’ the returning lineup of Northway, bassist Danny Smith and drummer Michael Lowe push everything further in their sound.

The blues is bluer. The rock is heavier. The done-me-wrong woes wrought through the lyrics and the tales there of lessons hard-learned feel sincere in the telling, and the entire feel of Soul Murder is one of accomplishment front to back, having built on the first two albums (less the EP, but that too if you want) and continued their progression to a critical stage in the life cycle of the band; a third album realization of who they are, marked by songs that carry across emotion and heft regardless of volume, feeling purposeful even as they ‘keep it loose’ in terms of flow and use open space to emphasize a live feel in songs like “Standing on My Tail” — dig that bass after the three-minute mark — and “Soul Murder” itself, where the guitar takes a break for most of the verses early on and sets up a move into a going-way-out heavy jam stretched across the bulk of its five minutes, Northway vibrato’ing out sorrows as the band taps Sabbath-rooted nod not for the first or last time with before shifting into a feedback-layer-inclusive solo-section.

In comparison to Blueside, some of Soul Murder is more stark in its trades, not so much with “Free and Humble,” which shimmies a middle line of blues rock comfortably and with a rhythmic sleekness that’s a credit to Smith and Lowe even if so much of the record from that point on is highlighted by Northway‘s mastery on guitar and vocals, be it the soft noodling after the crash-in intro to “Trouble with a Capital ‘T'” and the improvised-sounding final moments of centerpiece “Feels Like Hell” or the especially Hendrixian blues lines he brings to “Standing on My Tail,” his can-sing delivery shifting slightly to follow-suit.

Dropping hints along the way of fine detailing like the distant echoes of “by now” at two minutes into “Free and Humble” or some handclaps worked in with Lowe‘s mellow-swinging snare in that same chorus and again later, even just the tones of the guitar, bass and drums as recorded — in 2018, at least in part — by Nao Anzai at Head Gap Studios, who also mixed and mastered, Soul Murder presents a multi-tiered experience, with dynamic and reach enough to warrant and reward close listens and an overarching groove on its face.

There’s progression in the patience of their delivery as well, holding together “Trouble with a Capital ‘T'” no less than Smith‘s bassline, as Child make it clear early on they’re going to take their time and that’s alright. Second behind “Free and Humble,” “Trouble with a Capital ‘T'” is expansive and purposefully placed as the first of three included longer songs, with the other two being the closing salvo of “Moment in Time” and “Coming up Trumps,” all over six minutes. Unlike their first two LPs, Child don’t touch the 10-minute mark on Soul Murder, and on average the individual cuts are shorter, but the band are deceptively efficient, seeming to bring each song to life from the silence at its start, leaving a trail of memorable riffs and leads behind them in “Standing on My Tail,” the funk-as-stoner midsection of “Soul Murder,” etc. en route to “Moment in Time,” which makes a point of its minimalism initially as if to leave room for the vibrant fuzz and weeping feedback that soon enough fills it, and “Coming up Trumps,” which at 8:13 is by no means the longest song the three-piece have ever done but is an epic just the same recalling “Dazed and Confused” in its affect and, in its heaviest stretches, lumber that feels born of the intro to “War Pigs.”

Structurally, most of Soul Murder works on builds, and by the time “Standing on My Tail” starts with its unrepentant lean into R&B crossover, Child make it clear where they’re headed, but the paths they take are varied and satisfying. And more over, fluid. That is to say, while there are definite points at which a pedal is clicked on and the distortion swells — “Moment in Time” at 3:22 and “Soul Murder” at 1:39 come to mind — the material isn’t necessarily relying on its impending ‘heavy part’ as a payoff, or limited either in speaking to one side or the other in their sound. This ultimately makes Soul Murder a more immersive listen and more complete-feeling album in fostering that aforementioned overarching groove as something that persists regardless of how loud a given stretch might be.

Perhaps stripping down some of the more psychedelic and jammier aspects of their style has let Child flourish in craft while not leaving a spontaneous/on-stage spirit behind, which would seem at least in listening to be the best of both worlds, hints of ethereality in some of the instrumental passages doing nothing to pull away from the emotive impact of Northway‘s vocals. Those are every bit worthy of the showcase they’re given in “Trouble with a Capital ‘T'” and “Standing on My Tail” on side A and provide a grounding effect as “Moment in Time” and “Coming up Trumps” shift more into jams, the former capping with amp hum and residual feedback and cymbal taps as if in direct precursor to the outright doom in the apex of the subsequent finale, which ends Soul Murder with an actually-satisfying big-rock finish, pulled out and held, twisted around and hinting that they’re going to drop back into the heavier roll just before the last wash enters its fade; damn near perfect. They make you believe it.

And that’s true of the record as a whole as well. I don’t know and won’t speculate on anyone’s life situation, but the blues on Soul Murder feels real in terms of channeling personal turmoil into accessible songwriting, and Northway‘s emergence as a frontman — which has been a plot thread for Child‘s work to this point — is a settled issue. There are parts where the songs seem to recede specifically so he can carry them — 30 seconds into the title-track, for example — and he does without fail each time, backed in the spirit of ’70s heavy by Smith and Lowe as the essential foundation of the power trio.

As much as one wonders what might cause Soul Murder to have been so long in arriving after being recorded half a decade ago, the results of the album are enough to just make one glad it arrived at all. I won’t try to predict their future either or delve into hyperbole of Child among the forefront of Australia’s ultra-packed and diverse heavy underground, but whatever comes of it after the fact, Soul Murder is a significant achievement on their part in living up to and surpassing the high standard set by their first two full-lengths. It is multifaceted in its growth, expressive, and genuine. Again, they are a band to make you believe, and one expects their testimony to win converts accordingly.

Child, Soul Murder (2023)

Child on Facebook

Child on Instagram

Child on Bandcamp

Child on YouTube

Child website

If the notion of Magnetic Eye Records signing an Australian band hasn’t already raised your eyebrows, go check out the sadly-defunct Horsehunter. Following in those significant footsteps is the Melbourne trio Oceanlord, who released their two-songer demo (review here) in 2020 and thereby began to carve a place for themselves in their crowded native scene, making an impression in the broader international underground as well via strong social media word of mouth. It was a hard release to argue with, and on the e’er slight chance you didn’t click that review link, I’ll tell you flat out that I saw no reason to try.

Oceanlord add further depth to the Magnetic Eye lineup, which in recent years has emerged as both diverse in aesthetic and unflinching in quality, with standout offerings last year from Ruby the Hatchet and Caustic Casanova — look out for that new Witch Ripper as well — to underscore the point. From Arthur Brown to Greenleaf to Heavy Temple, the label has amassed a roster of forward-thinking talent that’s less about adhering to genre norms than supporting stylistic individualism. I look forward to hearing how that ethic manifests when Oceanlord make their full-length debut presumably sometime later this year.

The PR wire has it like this:

OCEANLORD sign with Magnetic Eye Records

OCEANLORD have sealed their fate by singing a forbidding deal with Magnetic Eye Records. The tentacled Australian doom triumvirate will soon release their debut full-length via the eldritch label.

OCEANLORD comment: “From the shadows, we herald the release of our debut album through Magnetic Eye Records”, writes guitarist and singer Peter Willmott on behalf of his fellow cultists. “Get ready for a voyage into the abyss of cosmic terror. The release is imminent, we ready ourselves for a journey beyond the veil of reality.”

Jadd Shickler welcomes OCEANLORD: “By the great old ones, doom is often brutal and annihilating, yet some is also dark and bleak as well as wistful, melancholic, crushing and somehow also strangely uplifting”, the Magnetic Eye director writes. “Oceanlord are of that second type with their epic, haunting yarns that feel as old and inexorable as the sea. This label stakes its existence on pushing outward at the boundaries of our favorite sonic styles, and we’re extremely eager for our endlessly dedicated and enthusiastic supporters to embark on this exciting voyage into the unfathomable depths that Oceanlord explore.”

Line-up
Peter Willmott – guitar, vocals
Jason Ker – bass
Jon May – drums

https://www.facebook.com/oceanlordau
https://www.instagram.com/oceanlordau
https://oceanlord.bandcamp.com

http://store.merhq.com
http://magneticeyerecords.com/
https://www.facebook.com/MagneticEyeRecords

Oceanlord, Demo (2020)

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: Casey Kurec of Bog Mönster & Riff Fist

—

How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

I’m a guitarist. My parents encouraged me to learn an instrument from a young age and while I spent several years learning the acoustic guitar as a child, I never enjoyed the typical classical or folk music you were generally taught as a beginner back then. It wasn’t until I was 15 and first heard Black Sabbath that I actually wanted to be a guitarist. I dug out my mum’s old classical and re-taught myself to play by learning a bunch of Iommi riffs and never looked back!

Describe your first musical memory.

My Dad had a huge vinyl collection and as a child I remember my parents regularly listening to the likes of Bob Marley and Jimi Hendrix. The first record I ever owned though was a copy of the Inspector Gadget theme music on 12” vinyl that I got given for my 6th birthday.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

Ah so many! Traveling to Europe and going to festivals like Roadburn or Desertfest for the first time was definitely an incredible experience I’ll never forget and lead to meeting lifelong friends. While Melbourne, Australia has a thriving heavy music scene, the vast distances between major cities means that touring, both for Australian and International bands can be difficult and costly. Pre-pandemic, we did always have a regular stream of international touring acts but going to Roadburn for the first time and seeing so many amazing bands, all in the one place and so many stoner/doom/sludge and metal fans congregating together was eye opening. It blew my mind that here I was, an Australian at a festival in the Netherlands for a sub-sub-culture of heavy music, with people from Germany, the USA, Belgium, France, Russia, the UK and so many other countries and we all looked the same, dressed the same and sang along to the same classic tunes at the afterparty discos!

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

So as mentioned above, I discovered Sabbath at 15 and instantly recognised them as objectively the greatest band to ever exist. In my mind, you either acknowledged Sabbath were the best band in the world or you probably just never heard them. I couldn’t fathom that people had heard “War Pigs,” for instance, and not immediately recognised it as an incredible and unequaled piece of art. It took me years to come around to the understanding that just because I had that emotional (even spiritual) connection to Sabbath’s music, others (even other heavy music fans) just had a different experience. And that’s fine! As I’ve gotten older, I’m definitely embarrassed about some of the elitist musical beliefs I have held. Plus I just don’t care anymore. Like what you wanna like. It’s super lame to judge anyone for any kind of taste, be it music, other forms of entertainment or lifestyle choices.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

This is a tough one. On one hand, I feel that as you progress, you learn more and more about your artform and increase your skills and mastery of the field, however this does not necessarily lead to your art being any ‘better’ for lack of a better word. So many successful bands and musicians artistically peak much earlier in their careers and while their playing abilities or technical songwriting skills may improve, the magic is gone and their later work is flat or boring. I’m thinking of bands like Metallica or Qotsa. I’m sure Hetfield is a million times better guitarist now than he was 30 years ago but is he a better artist? Possibly strictly in terms of as a performer, but in terms of releasing artistically interesting music, I’m sure many people would say no. So I guess artistic progression can lead to mastery of your artform but it can also lead to complacency, especially when experiencing success and an earlier stage.

How do you define success?

I think as I’ve gotten older, I just measure success in being happy and being able to do the things that bring me happiness and joy. As a musician, you want others to like your music but to be honest, I’d consider a song to be a success if I was happy with the end product, regardless of if anyone else listened to it or not. Maybe my answer would change if I was in a majorly successful band bringing in the big bucks haha.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Hmmm, another tough one…. So there is this classic Australian 70’s band called Blackfeather who released an amazing early 70’s heavy psychedelic prog album called ‘At the Mountains of Madness’. Around ten years ago, they performed a reunion show so I went along with (Riff Fist Bassist/Singer) Cozza as we both discovered the band together on an old mix tape Coz had and were big fans. Well, we walked into the Corner Hotel (a venue in Melbourne where bands like Sleep and Boris have played) and should have known something was up when there were tables and chairs set up all over the venue floor and in front of the stage. We were also the only people there under the age of about 60. Anyway, the band (which I think was just the singer as the only original member) played almost nothing off the album we loved and to make things worse, they played with not a single ounce of distortion, fuzz or overdrive on the guitars. It was the cleanest guitar tone I’ve ever heard, fender strats through super clean fender amps which was completely at odds with the heavy 70’s overdrive I was expecting. The nail in the coffin was when they finally played their classic ‘Seasons of Change’ and the singer decided that rather than stick to the beautiful original melody, he’d adlib the shit out of it. Oooff! It was awful, I definitely wish I’d kept my memories of Blackfeather to just listening to the classic record.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

A boardgame! The lyrics and world of Bog Monster are perfect for adapting to some kind of board game or pen and paper RPG. We’ve talked about one day releasing a concept style album with an accompanying game or game system. Maybe the gatefold vinyl folds out to a battle map and you get a bunch of Bog Monster miniatures with the deluxe edition or something like that? We’re all a bunch of nerds so I think something like this would be super fun and I don’t really know of any other bands that have done this.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Hmmm, I don’t know… to exist? hahahaha. I was going to say to entertain but that’s definitely not the point of some art. I guess to communicate something; feelings, messages, sensations, emotions, ideas. But that’s probably not true for all art either. I guess it’s different for every artist and every piece of art. There are no rules and that’s what makes art so special.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

Traveling again. Since the pandemic shut down international travel, it’s yet to get back to the same level of accessibility and affordability we enjoyed for most of the past decade. I haven’t been to the US since 2011 or to Europe since 2017 and I can’t wait to catch up with friends I haven’t seen in years once I am able to.

https://www.facebook.com/bogmonsterband
https://open.spotify.com/artist/71RA44WSDGNyID1a8bmBZ1
https://bogmonster.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/RiffFist/
https://rifffist.bandcamp.com/
http://www.rifffist.com/

Bog Mönster, Hell is Full (2021)

Riff Fist, King Tide (2017)

We press on, until the end, though tired and long since out of adjectival alternatives to ‘heavy.’ The only way out is through, or so I’m told. Therefore, we go through.

Morale? Low. Brain, exhausted. The shit? Hit the fan like three days ago. The walls, existentially speaking, are a mess. Still, we go through.

Two more days to go. Thanks for reading.

Winter 2023 Quarterly Review #81-90:

Farflung, Like Drones in Honey

No question Farflung are space rock. It’s not up for debate. They are who they are and on their 10th full-length, Like Drones in Honey (on Sulatron, which suits both them and label), they remain Farflung. But whether it’s the sweet ending of the “Baile an Doire” or the fuzz riffing beneath the sneer of “King Fright” and the careening garage strum of “Earthmen Look Alike to Me,” the album offers a slew of reminders that as far out as Farflung get — and oh my goodness, they go — the long-running Los Angeles outfit were also there in the mid and late ’90s as heavy rock and, in California particularly, desert rock took shape. Of course, opener “Acid Drain” weaves itself into the fabric of the universe via effects blowout and impulse-engine chug, and after that finish in “Baile an Doire,” they keep the experimentalism going on the backwards/forwards piano/violin of “Touch of the Lemmings Kiss” and the whispers and underwater rhythm of closer “A Year in Japan,” but even in the middle of the pastoral “Tiny Cities Made of Broken Teeth” or in the second half of the drifting “Dludgemasterpoede,” they’re space and rock, and it’s worth not forgetting about the latter even as you blast off with weirdo rocket fuel. Like their genre overall, like Sulatron, Farflung are underrated. It is lucky that doesn’t slow their outbound trip in the slightest.

Farflung on Facebook

Sulatron Records webstore

—

 

Neptunian Maximalism, Finis Gloriae Mundi

Whether you want to namedrop one or another Coltrane or the likes of Amon Düül or Magma or whoever else, the point is the same: Neptunian Maximalism are not making conventional music. Yeah, there’s rhythm, meter, even some melody, but the 66-minute run of the recorded-on-stage Finis Gloriae Mundi isn’t defined by songs so much as the pieces that make up its consuming entirety. As a group, the Belgians’ project isn’t to write songs to much as to manifest an expression of an idea; in this case, apparently, the end of the world. A given stretch might drone or shred, meditate in avant-jazz or move-move-move-baby in heavy kosmiche push, but as they make their way to the two-part culmination “The Conference of the Stars,” the sense of bringing-it-all-down is palpable, and so fair enough for their staying on theme and offering “Neptunian’s Raga Marwa” as a hint toward the cycle of ending and new beginnings, bright sitar rising out of low, droning, presented-as-empty space. For most, their extreme take on prog and psych will simply be too dug in, too far from the norm, and that’s okay. Neptunian Maximalism aren’t so much trying to be universal as to try to commune with the universe itself, wherever that might exist if it does at all. End of the world? Fine. Let it go. Another one will come along eventually.

Neptunian Maximalism on Facebook

I, Voidhanger Records on Bandcamp

Utech Records store

—

 

Near Dusk, Through the Cosmic Fog

Four years after their 2018 self-titled debut (review here), Denver heavy rock and rollers Near Dusk gather eight songs across and smooth-rolling, vinyl-minded 37 minutes for Through the Cosmic Fog, which takes its title from the seven-and-a-half-minute penultimate instrumental “Cosmic Fog,” a languid but not inactive jam that feels especially vital for the character it adds among the more straightforward songs earlier in the record — the rockers, as it were — that comprise side A: “The Way it Goes,” “Spliff ’em All,” and so on. “Cosmic Fog” isn’t side B’s only moment of departure, as the drumless guitar-exploration-into-acoustic “Roses of Durban” and the slower rolling finisher “Slab City” fill out the expansion set forth with the bluesy solo in the back end of “EMFD,” but the strength of craft they show on the first four songs isn’t to be discounted either for the fullness or the competence of their approach. The three-piece of Matthew Orloff, Jon Orloff and Kellen McInerney know where they’re coming from in West Coast-style heavy, not-quite-party, rock, and it’s the strength of the foundation they build early in the opening duo and “The Damned” and “Blood for Money,” that lets them reach outward late, allowing Through the Cosmic Fog to claim its space as a classically structured, immediately welcome heavy rock LP.

Near Dusk on Facebook

Near Dusk on Bandcamp

—

 

Simple Forms, Simple Forms EP

The 2023 self-titled debut EP from Portland, Oregon’s Simple Forms collects four prior singles issued over the course of 2021 and 2022 into one convenient package, and even if you’ve been keeping up with the trickle of material from the band that boasts members of YOB, (now) Hot Victory, Dark Castle and Norska, hearing the tracks right next to each other does change the context somewhat, as with the darker turn of “From Weathered Hand” after “Reaching for the Shadow” or the way that leadoff and “Together We Will Rest” seem to complement each other in the brightness of the forward guitar, a kind of Euro-style proggy noodling that reminds of The Devil’s Blood or something more goth, transposed onto a forward-pushing Pacific Northwestern crunch. The hints of black metal in the riffing of “The Void Beneath” highlight the point that this is just the start for guitarists Rob Shaffer and Dustin Rieseberg, bassist Aaron Rieseberg and grunge-informed frontman Jason Oswald (who also played drums and synth here), but already their sprawl is nuanced and directed toward individualism. I don’t know what their plans might be moving forward, but if the single releases didn’t highlight their potential, certainly the four songs all together does. A 19-minute sampler of what might be, if it will be.

Simple Forms on Facebook

Simple Forms on Bandcamp

—

 

Lybica, Lybica

Probably safe to call Lybica a side-project for Justin Foley, since it seems unlikely to start taking priority over his position as drummer in metalcore mainstays Killswitch Engage anytime soon, but the band’s self-titled debut offers a glimpse of some other influences at work. Instrumental in its entirety, it comes together with Foley leading on guitar joined by bassist Doug French and guitarist Joey Johnson (both of Gravel Kings) and drummer Chris Lane (A Brilliant Lie), and sure, there’s some pretty flourish of guitar, and some heavier, more direct chugging crunch — “Palatial” in another context might have a breakdown riff, and the subsequent “Oktavist” is more directly instru-metal — but even in the weighted stretch at the culmination of “Ferment,” and in the tense impression at the beginning of seven-minute closer “Charyou,” the vibe is more in line with Russian Circles than Foley‘s main outfit, and clearly that’s the point. “Ascend” and “Resonance” open the album with pointedly non-metallic atmospheres, and they, along with the harder-hitting cuts and “Manifest,” “Voltaic” and “Charyou,” which bring the two sides together, set up a dynamic that, while familiar in this initial stage, is both satisfying in impact and more aggressive moments while immersive in scope.

Lybica on Facebook

Lybica on Bandcamp

—

 

Bird, Walpurgis

Just as their moniker might belong to some lost-classic heavy band from 1972 one happens upon in a record store, buys for the cover, and subsequently loves, so too does Naples four-piece Bird tap into proto-metal vibes on their latest single Walpurgis. And that’s not happenstance. While their production isn’t quite tipped over into pure vintage-ism, it’s definitely organic, and they’ve covered the likes of Rainbow, Uriah Heep and Deep Purple, so while “Walpurgis” itself leans toward doom in its catchy and utterly reasonable three-plus minutes, there’s no doubt Bird know where their nest is, stylistically speaking. Given a boost through release by Olde Magick Records, the single-songer follows 2021’s The Great Beast From the Sea EP, which proffered a bit more burl and modern style in its overarching sound, so it could be that as they continue to grow they’re learning a bit more patience in their approach, as “Walpurgis” is nestled right into a tempo that, while active enough to still swing, is languid just the same in its flow, with maybe a bit more rawness in the separation of the guitar, bass, drums and organ. Most importantly, it suits the song, and piques curiosity as to where Bird go next, as any decent single should.

Bird on Facebook

Olde Magick Records on Bandcamp

—

 

Pseudo Mind Hive, Eclectica

Without getting into which of them does what where — because they switch, and it’s complicated, and there’s only so much room — the core of the sound for Melbourne-based four-piece Pseudo Mind Hive is in has-chops boogie rock, but that’s a beginning descriptor, not an end. It doesn’t account for the psych-surf-fuzz in two-minute instrumental opener “Hot Tooth” on their Eclectica EP, for example, or the what-if-Queens–of–the–Stone–Age-kept-going-like-the-self-titled “Moon Boots” that follows on the five-song offering. “You Can Run” has a fuzzy shuffle and up-strummed chug that earns the accompanying handclaps like Joan Jett, while “This Old Tree” dares past the four-minute mark with its scorching jive, born out of a smoother start-stop fuzz verse with its own sort of guitar antics, and “Coming Down,” well, doesn’t at first, but does give way soon enough to a dreamier psychedelic cast and some highlight vocal melody before it finds itself awake again and already running, tense in its builds and overlaid high-register noises, which stand out even in the long fade. Blink and you’ll miss it as it dashes by, all momentum and high-grade songcraft, but that’s alright. It does fine on repeat listens as well, which obviously is no coincidence.

Pseudo Mind Hive on Facebook

Copper Feast Records website

—

 

Oktas, The Finite and the Infinite

On. Slaught. Call it atmospheric sludge, call it post-metal; I sincerely doubt Philadelphia’s Oktas give a shit. Across the four songs and 36 minutes of the two-bass-no-guitar band’s utterly bludgeoning debut album, The Finite and the Infinite, the band — bassist/vocalist Bob Stokes, cellist Agnes Kline, bassist Carl Whitlock and drummer Ron Macauley — capture a severity of tone and a range that goes beyond loud/quiet tradeoffs into the making of songs that are memorable while not necessarily delivering hooks in the traditional verse/chorus manner. It’s the cello that stands out as opener “Collateral Damage” plods to its finish — though Macauley‘s drum fills deserve special mention — and even as “Epicyon” introduces the first of the record’s softer breaks, it is contrasted in doing so by a section of outright death metal onslaught so that the two play back and forth before eventually joining forces in another dynamic and crushing finish. Tempo kick is what’s missing thus far and “Light in the Suffering” hits that mark immediately, finding blackened tremolo on the other side of its own extended cello-led subdued stretch, coming to a head just before the ending so that finale “A Long, Dreamless Sleep” can start with its Carl Sagan sample about how horrible humans are (correct), and build gracefully over the next few minutes before saying screw it and diving headfirst into cyclical chug and sprinting extremity. Somebody sign this band and press this shit up already.

Oktas on Facebook

Oktas on Bandcamp

—

 

Scream of the Butterfly, The Grand Stadium

This is a rock and roll band, make no mistake. Berlin’s Scream of the Butterfly draw across decades of influence, from ’60s pop and ’70s heavy to ’90s grunge, ’00s garage and whatever the hell’s been going on the last 10-plus years to craft an amalgamated sound that is cohesive thanks largely to the tightness of their performances — energetic, sure, but they make it sound easy — the overarching gotta-get-up urgency of their push and groove, and the current of craft that draws it all together. They’ve got 10 songs on The Grand Stadium, which is their third album, and they all seem to be trying to outdo each other in terms of hooks, electricity, vibe, and so on. Even the acoustic-led atmosphere-piece “Now, Then and Nowhere” leaves a mark, to say nothing of the much, much heavier “Sweet Adeleine” or the sunshine in “Dead End Land” or the bluesy shove of “Ain’t No Living.” Imagine time as a malleable thing and some understanding of how the two-minute “Say Your Name to Me” can exist in different styles simultaneously, be classic and forward thinking, spare and spacious. And I don’t know what’s going on with all the people talking in “Hallway of a Thousand Eyes,” but Scream of the Butterfly make it easy to dig anyway and remind throughout of the power that can be realized when a band is both genuinely multifaceted and talented songwriters. Scary stuff, that.

Scream of the Butterfly on Facebook

Scream of the Butterfly on Bandcamp

—

 

Holz, Holz

Based in Kassel with lyrics in their native German, Holz are vocalist/guitarist Leonard Riegel, bassist Maik Blümke and drummer Martin Nickel, and on their self-titled debut (released by Tonzonen), they tear with vigor into a style that’s somewhere between noise rock, stoner heavy and rawer punk, finding a niche for themselves that feels barebones with the dry — that is, little to no effects — vocal treatment and a drum sound that cuts through the fuzz that surrounds on early highlight “Bitte” and the later, more noisily swaying “Nichts.” The eight-minute “Garten” is a departure from its surroundings with a lengthy fuzz jam in its midsection — not as mellow as you’re thinking; the drums remain restless and hint toward the resurgence to come — while “Zerstören” reignites desert rock riffing to its own in-the-rehearsal-room-feeling purposes. Intensity is an asset there and at various other points throughout, but there’s more to Holz than ‘go’ as the rolling “50 Meilen Geradeaus” and the swing-happy, bit-o’-melody-and-all “Dämon” showcase, but when they want to, they’re ready and willing to stomp into heavier tones, impatient thrust, or as in the penultimate “Warten,” a little bit of both. Not everybody goes on a rampage their first time out, but it definitely suits Holz to wreck shit in such a fashion.

Holz on Facebook

Tonzonen Records store

—