Quarterly Review: Goddess, Irata, Gutward, Smokemaster, Bantoriak, Troy the Band, Burning Sister, The Heavy Eyes, For Eons, Rödtjut
Posted in Reviews on August 10th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Hi and welcome to the Summer 2026 Quarterly Review. Every day this week I’ll be posting a round of 10 reviews to total 50 by Friday, rounding up recent releases, stuff I’ve missed, etc. There are a few things in the mix that aren’t out yet that I’m going to sneak in (shh…), but it’s entirely possible I’ll be doing this again next month or in October, so, you know, sit tight. My hope is that you find something to hear you haven’t heard before, or at very least have your opinions validated on whatever it might be.
Without further ado, we roll.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
Goddess, Ritual of the Cloven Hoof
Based in Sweden and signed to Majestic Mountain Records, Goddess are an offshoot of 2010s-era doomers Goatess and feature guitarist/vocalist Karl-Martin Buhre and drummer Kenta Karlbom from that band alongside guitarist Anders Martinsgård (Black Solstice) and bassist John Jansson in the revamped, renamed four-piece on their six-track/37-minute doom-chugging debut album, Ritual of the Cloven Hoof. Sort-of-debut album? I don’t know how you want to classify it, but either way the point is doom, and Goddess inherit a penchant for massive riffs and forlorn spaces as songs like “To Be King” and the eight-and-a-half-minute “Born Again Heathen” begin to define a character that is their own within the genre, the latter leaning a bit into doomedelic jamming ahead of the closer “Devil’s Reef,” which returns to ground in reliable fashion with deceptive vitality in its push. It’s no coincidence they sound like they know what they’re doing, because they do, but their Ritual is also the beginning of a new exploration, and holds all the more potential for that.
Majestic Mountain Records store
—
Irata, Human
A new Irata album isn’t something that happens all the time, and fair enough. Some bands need to live before they write songs about it, and that’s not sarcasm or criticism for how much heart the North Carolinian trio put into their music. Human, while only their fourth LP since 2007, comes seven years after 2019’s Tower (review here) and starts out duly moody to suit the times in “Altar” and the bassy “Confessions,” but the swaying highlight “Seeds” finds a way to inject more energy into the delivery without sacrificing atmosphere, and though they hit into speedier fare in “Mirrors” or the penultimate “Goodside,” they do so while maintaining a patient progressivism, which leads to the masterful unfolding of capper “Daystar” across two linear builds, the latter of which ends the Human on a fading rumble. While maintaining a current of raw expression, Irata are able to conjure expanses in their sound. A J. Robbins mix doesn’t hurt in that effort, but it wouldn’t work if the songs didn’t run as deep as they do.
—
Gutward, I
Oh hell yes. Indonesian stoner doomers Gutward bring about a lumber that’s a sure reminder of what dragged me onto this wretched lifepath to start with. Huge, immersive grooves, airy but discernible vocals — that actually have something to say about the world around them; bonus — and a sense of space and outreach that is at once free and encompassing. I is their first release following the 2024 single “Mauna Vedanā,” and its five-track/35-minute course is less about innovation than celebration, reveling in the largesse of march at the end of “What’s With the Rush?” or the addled vastness in “Mass Delusion” and hopefully-foretelling-of-things-to-come melodic showcase “Rot Alone” ahead of 12-minute capper “The Messages,” which is heavy enough for whatever you need flattened but holds firm to its tempo gruel and the melody established by the song prior. My only problem with the record is I can’t figure out which label I want them to sign to most, but either way, I is easily among the best debut albums I’ve heard this year. I look forward to hearing where they go from here.
—
Smokemaster, In the Temple
A six-years-later follow-up for the potential wrought in their 2020 self-titled debut (review here), Smokemaster‘s In the Temple is in coversation with the breadth of modern psychedelia and the friendly melodies of ’60s pop-psych alike, and the Cologne outfit manage to make even a mover like “Do it Again” feel like a quiet, intimate moment, while pieces like the title-track and “Electromagnetic” feel less concerned with heft than float, and “Down in the Salt Mines” hones a wash that turns the extended solo in its back half to an utter triumph brought to heel in favor of a quiet last verse. Acoustic guitar, organ, effects, breathy vocals, clever layering — all of these elements serve the needs of the songs, and the songs have more range for them, but the underlying structures are a strength as the harmonies in “Citrus Leaves” demonstrate before they bring the album to an effectively stirring resolution. It’s the kind of record that might make your day better.
—
Bantoriak, Vol. II
At the core of Bantoriak is Izio Orsini from Rancho Bizzarro, who in 2015 debuted the project with Weedoism (review here) and all its attendant weirdness. Vol. II follows suit 11 years later — what is time? — but finds Orsini working with a range of guests, from Sergio Chotsourian (ex-Los Natas, etc.) on the lumbering post-intro plunge “Blu Bus,” to members of Vesta, Supernaughty and Zen Circus, resulting in a could-go-anywhere vision of meditative heavy psychedelia. There’s throat singing on “La Muerte del Sitar,” while “Ritualism” finds the sitar very much alive and droning, “Kairot” lets the guitar scorch a bit, and “Liquid Brain” feels like a lost jam from The Heads. The last four minutes are dedicated to the ethereal noise of “Karpura,” with the later reaches lost to distant shouts and a consuming sound that might be running water. A lesson in how to be in-genre and still totally on your own wavelength.
—
Troy the Band, (Des)
While I don’t envy any band the task of distinguishing themselves in London’s underground scene, which is arguably the most packed-with-riffs of anywhere the world over and has been at this point for some time, the manner in which Troy the Band meet the challenge head on with their second album (Des), following on from 2024’s debut, Cataclysm (review here), with a collection that finds the trio of guitarist Sean Burn, bassist Sean Durbin and drummer Jack Revans answering the departure of vocalist Craig Newman by including a breadth of guest appearances. The penultimate “Adoration of Ill Luck” features Ana-Maria Terr Bordei, whom they’ve since welcomed as their new permanent singer, and her command over the massive groove there honed is enough reason why, but only one among a slew of highlights that include the immediately preceding “Memory Glowing,” with Peter Holland (Elephant Tree, etc.) and Kay Elizabeth (Black Orchids), and the screaming volatility of “Nothing” or “Choke.” There’s a lot happening in any individual cut, but the root instrumentals tie it all together and make (Des) an engrossing journey of a listen.
—
Burning Sister, Plunge b/w Fadeout (Live)
I know the focus on the new Burning Sister two-songer, Plunge b/w Fadeout (Live), is supposed to be the A-side, the new studio track and the ‘gaze vibes therefrom, the steady roll brought to bear for just under six minutes, hypnotic and full in its unrolling, hinting toward psych but staying true to the band’s stated intention of being ‘Mile High Downer Rock,’ bassist/vocalist Steve Miller and drummer Alison Salutz exploring and finding a plane between atmosphere and impact, but don’t sleep on the B-side either. This live interpretation of “Fadeout,” which opened the band’s 2023 Get Your Head Right EP (review here) when they were a trio but here becomes a showcase of fuzz density, nod and ’90s druggery. I suppose there’s no wrong answer between the two cuts, but “Fadeout (Live)” makes an easy comparison point for the Denver two-piece’s continuing excursion into the outer bounds of heavy weirdness, and even better, I suspect that’s why it’s included in the first place. For more, see their 2025 LP Ghosts (review here), and yeah, I really mean that you should.
—
The Heavy Eyes, Focus
Focus is an aptly-titled six-years-later return and fifth album overall from Memphis heavy rockers The Heavy Eyes. Issued through Magnetic Eye and Kozmik Artifactz — the latter of long association — the 11-song collection swings and reaches out and puts its focus on the songs themselves, which are taut, well composed, and able to make a four-minute slab like “It’s All Simone” feel like an epic reach even as it takes its place in the overarching flow of the material. That might be experience or maturity coming through — they hit 15 years since their debut in 2026 — but with shades of All Them Witches in the vocals, a gleeful tonal swamp in “Corporal Upham” ahead of the fuzz-bluesy “That Cold Goliath (Might Return),” and hooks to spare throughout, The Heavy Eyes remind that so much of the appeal in the first place was their ability to cohesively take on a range of elements and fuse them into a single stylistic statement. The self-awareness with which Focus would seem to have been made hinders this not in the slightest. Heads up, rockers.
—
For Eons, Collide
Atmospheric heavy psychedelia presented across five duly broad tracks comprises this impressive debut full-length from Vienna-based trio For Eons, and Collide both has intricacy in the now and speaks promises of things to come in its sprawling sound, patient in centerpiece “Depths of Time,” excitingly prog-fuzzed in opener “Old Friend,” and righteous in the payoff of the eight-and-half-minute “Echoes of the Past,” the vocal melody in the latter putting the band in league with the likes of The Machine or the still-missed Sungrazer while the clearheaded tones in the start-stops of “Million Voices” and the will to drift in closer “From the Jungles to the Cities” (which has its own start-stops toward the finish) harness a sense of progressivism without feeling overly indulgent so much as engaging the listener on more than one level. The title speaks of smashing things together, and maybe that’s how the band experiences their music, I don’t know, but from the listener’s standpoint their songs are more fluid than they might at first seem.
—
Rödtjut, Framtiden var bättre förr
Classic Swedish hard/heavy rock from the second Rödtjut full-length, Framtiden var bättre förr, with a songwriting that pushes toward the proto-metallic in “Rödögd blåtira” (and elsewhere) but balances that out with, say, the flute in “Vår tid” or the organ-inclusive mellowprog fluidity of eight-minute instrumental closer “Efter stormen.” It’s in Swedish, obviously, and I’m ignorant of the language, but the chug of “VMA” transcends gerunds, and as they demonstrate with the leadoff title-track, a hook is a hook regardless of what the syllables actually mean. The lead guitar in “En plats som vi inte förstår” has a bit of fuzzy stank on it, but by and large the intention is toward straight-up hard rock of the later-’70s variety, though somebody in this band likes Judas Priest, and that’s reasonable. This is my first exposure to Rödtjut, who have apparently been through some lineup changes since their debut in 2023, but the straightforward approach suits them and the songs hit a stylistic sweetspot, so you won’t hear me complain.
—
