Posted in Whathaveyou on October 1st, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Apparently Detroit’s Temple of the Fuzz Witch aren’t kidding when they say their new album, Red Tide, is coming soon. Soon, as in next week. Better get those preorders up before they’re just orders, I guess.
The full-length is the second for the band behind their 2019 self-titled debut (review here), and it’s seeing release through Interstellar Smoke Records. Though that’s a pretty quick follow-up to their first offering, Temple of the Fuzz Witch have already this year posted a single called “Burn” and a collection of unreleased songs and live tracks aptly-titled Live and Unreleased. Whether “Burn” or any of that other material might feature on the upcoming LP, I’ve no idea, but hell, at least we don’t have to wait that long to find out.
While we’re on the subject of things I don’t know — as we so very, very often — I’m not sure if the Oct. 9 release is digital with vinyl later, i.e., if that’s when LP preorders go up, or if the record will actually be out and has been in the can already for however long. I’m sure you’re hipper to that situation than I am, but I dug the debut, so finding out there’s another on the way is welcome news as far as I’m concerned. And if I haven’t made the point yet, Oct. 9 is next week.
The following is culled from band and label posts:
It confirmed news, @templeofthefuzzwitch with brand new album ,Red Tide’ will be release via Interstellar Smoke.
“NEW TEMPLE OF THE FUZZ WITCH ALBUM COMING SOON. The title of the next release is “Red Tide”. We are very proud of this work and it will be on colored and splattered vinyl. There will be pre-orders soon.”
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 21st, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Shit, that’s cool. Good for Temple of Void. Hell, good for Relapse. Good match all around, really. And if tours can ever happen again, all the better. Previously hooked up with Shadow Kingdom Records, Detroit deathbringers Temple of Void released their prescient-in-title third album, The World That Was (review here), this past March. Their follow-up will be their Relapse Records debut, which for a band like this is pretty much living the dream. Can’t say they haven’t earned it, either. Their take on death metal and doom fluidly tips the balance to one side or another to serve songs that are inventive even as they don genre tropes, and the band revel in past glories even as they make them their own. Congrats and kudos all around.
You like good news? I do. Here’s some from the PR wire:
TEMPLE OF VOID Sign To Relapse Records; New Album Coming 2021
Relapse Records is proud to announce the signing of Detroit, MI based death/doom legion TEMPLE OF VOID. Temple of Void are currently writing their Relapse Records debut, their 4th full length, set to be released in 2021. Stay tuned for more information in the near future.
Regarding the signing, TEMPLE OF VOID Comments:
“The pandemic may have stopped us playing shows, but it can’t stop us writing a new record. We’ve been hard at work ever since lockdown started, crafting new songs and exploring new ways to expand and hone our signature sound. Never a band to write the same album twice, our debut for Relapse will both be familiar and new all at the same time. Echoes of the past will meet with glimpses into the future. Each record we write stands on the shoulders of the prior albums, and this is no different. We’re beyond fucking excited to get into the studio next year and track this beast.”
TEMPLE OF VOID have reverberated across the underground upon the releases of their 2014 full length “Of Terror and the Supernatural”, 2017’s critically acclaimed “Lords of Death”, and their most recent album, “The World that Was”.
“The World that Was” sold out of its first pressing before it was released, speaking to the support from death metal maniacs worldwide. Featuring incredible musical collaborations and artwork that pushed their cosmic atmosphere into new dimensions, “The World That Was” marked a new step in the band’s forward-thinking path, highlighting them as a contender for the year’s best in extreme music.
Now, with their signing to Relapse Records, TEMPLE OF VOID embark once again upon a voyage beyond death, beyond doom, and beyond the ultimate!
TEMPLE OF VOID Is: Michael Erdody – Vocals Don Durr – Guitar Jason Pearce – Drums Alex Awn – Guitar Brent Satterly –Bass
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 29th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
There are a few reasons I like hosting Cursed Tongue Records announcements like this one. Most of them are painfully obvious — things like “the music’s good” — but also it’s been a joy to see how the label’s taste and reach has grown and how it has gained a reputation for a quality product both in concept and execution. The label’s picking up BoneHawk for an LP release of the Michigan-based band’s second album, Iron Mountain, is another example of Cursed Tongue knowing what they want and making it happen.
BoneHawk, for whom Iron Mountain serves as the follow-up to their debut, 2014’s Albino Rhino (discussed here) — later picked up by Ripple Music — and their 2016 split 12″ with Kingnomad (review here), also on Ripple, have a new lineup as well as the new album. They posted the record to Bandcamp in June, so for them this continues a pattern of releasing on their own — they have a limited CD version available on Bandcamp — before subsequently getting a label on board for a wider release. You won’t hear me argue.
You will, if you go down to the bottom of the post, hear Iron Mountain streaming in full. Following immediately is the announcement from Cursed Tongue, which again, it is my pleasure to host.
Here goes:
KALAMAZOO, MI FUZZ-HEAVY BLUES ROCKERS BONEHAWK SIGN TO CURSED TONGUE RECORDS FOR A GLOBAL VINYL RELEASE OF ‘IRON MOUNTAIN’ SEPTEMBER 18, 2020.
Cursed Tongue Records is beyond stoked to announce the signing of Kalamazoo, Michigan hard hitting psychedelic heavy blues rock quartet BoneHawk and look forward to release their sophomore album entitled ‘Iron Mountain’ on premium vinyl come September 18, 2020 (Vinyl pre-order starts August 14).
Since the inception of Cursed Tongue Records, it has been on our bucket list to work with premiere fuzzy riff slingers and party bringers BoneHawk. Back when CTR was still a pipedream, and even before its embryonic stages, BoneHawk released their debut album, entitled ‘Albino Rhino’ and that release would soon encapsulate what this record label is striving to release; Music so pure, energetic, and vibrant you can fuel an entire parade of boogie vans filed with rock ‘n roll-loving peace-seeking stoner rock hippies.
BoneHawk has went and done it again. The band has once more conjured up another kickass album of otherworldly catchy grooves, addictive riffs, and leads so melodic they leave the insides of your vans’ windows dripping wet. Hot damn, their new album ‘Iron Mountain’ is a phenomenal sonic excursion and showcase on how to turn out one infectious fuzzy rock opus after the other.
Their sophomore album builds on the strength from ‘Albino Rhino’ and utilizes the vital formula the BoneHawk boys invented back then and take it to the next level with an even more coherent and focused approach. Thus the 4-headed beast the makes up the bone, brain, and muscles of BoneHawk serves up nine songs and 42+ mins of twin guitar rock ‘n roll galore.
A term like ‘masterpiece’ is way too often tossed abound, but in case of ‘Iron Mountain’, we won’t refrain from branding this release as exactly that, as the BoneHawk guys are returning from the mountain of iron having mined their own rich vintage brand of rock ‘n roll from a gold-capped ore. This is truly high-grade rock of the heaviest caliber and it is here to allure your heart and ears.
BoneHawk is finally back and bring forth their richly mined organic rock from the depths of Iron Mountain consisting of fuzzy riffs and grooves of solid steel come September 18, 2020
BoneHawk are: Matt Helt -Vocals/Guitar Nate Cohn – Drums Cam Mammina – Guitar Matt Smith – Bass/Vocals
Posted in Features on April 17th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
The statistics of COVID-19 change with every news cycle, and with growing numbers, stay-at-home isolation and a near-universal disruption to society on a global scale, it is ever more important to consider the human aspect of this coronavirus. Amid the sad surrealism of living through social distancing, quarantines and bans on gatherings of groups of any size, creative professionals — artists, musicians, promoters, club owners, techs, producers, and more — are seeing an effect like nothing witnessed in the last century, and as humanity as a whole deals with this calamity, some perspective on who, what, where, when and how we’re all getting through is a needed reminder of why we’re doing so in the first place.
Thus, Days of Rona, in some attempt to help document the state of things as they are now, both so help can be asked for and given where needed, and so that when this is over it can be remembered.
Thanks to all who participate. To read all the Days of Rona coverage, click here. — JJ Koczan
Days of Rona: “Postman Dan” McCormick of Cruthu (Lansing, Michigan)
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How are you dealing with this crisis as a band? Have you had to rework plans at all? How is everyone’s health so far?
First and foremost everyone is in good health thankfully. We sincerely hope the same for you and anyone that may be reading this. As far as it affecting the band there’s been a few minor adjustments to reschedule shows and studio sessions. We’ve had two shows in April postponed and it’s made booking additional shows difficult. Clubs and bars are closed per executive order in Michigan. Fortunately our focus this past winter has been finishing a new record which is in the final stages of mixing. I’ve had to schedule one session remotely over the phone due to quarantine measures from the state.
What are the quarantine/isolation rules where you are?
Michigan is currently one of the states on lockdown. Travel has been restricted to only essential services and the state has instructed nonessential businesses to close. People for the most part are staying home and only leaving for things like groceries (both alcohol and medical marijuana were deemed essential, in case you’re wondering). Gatherings went quickly from 250 people down to 10 and then to basically staying home.
How have you seen the virus affecting the community around you and in music?
There’s definitely some panic and fear in public but not overwhelming. I’ve been deemed essential in my line of work which requires me to travel about 80 miles a day throughout some of the busiest parts in our capitol city of Lansing. The downtown district is like a ghost town while people are flooding grocery stores on the west end for supplies. Meanwhile the eastside houses most of the music venues which have all been closed. I’ve noticed venues across the state cancelling or postponing shows for both local and touring acts.
What is the one thing you want people to know about your situation, either as a band, or personally, or anything?
If anything, I’d like to thank all the musicians, labels, music journalists, promoters, etc., for your efforts. Life would be much different without your contributions. Please continue to support them in these trying times.
Posted in Reviews on March 27th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
I’m not saying I backloaded the Quarterly Review or anything — because I didn’t — but maybe subconsciously I wanted to throw in a few releases here I had a pretty good idea I was gonna dig beforehand. Pretty much all of them, as it turned out. Not a thing I regret happening, though, again, neither was it something I did purposefully. Anyone see A Serious Man? In this instance, I’m happy to “accept the mystery” and move on.
Before we dive into the last day, of course I want to say thank you for reading if you have been. If you’ve followed along all week or this is the only post you’ve seen or you’re just here because I tagged your band in the post on Thee Facebooks, whatever it is, it is appreciated. Thank you. Especially given the global pandemic, your time and attention is highly valued.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
Ocean Chief, Den Tredje Dagen
The first Ocean Chief record in six years is nothing if not weighted enough to make up for anything like lost time. Also the long-running Swedish outfit’s debut on Argonauta Records, Den Tredje Dagen on CD/DL runs five songs and 59 minutes, and though it’s not without a sense of melody either instrumentally or vocally — certainly its guitars have plenty enough to evoke a sense of mournfulness at least — its primary impact still stems from the sheer heft of its tonality, and its tracks are of the sort that a given reviewer might be tempted to call “slabs.” They land accordingly, the longest of them positioned as the centerpiece “Dömd” seething with slower-Celtic Frost anxiety and the utter nastiness of its intent spread across 15-plus minutes of let-me-just-go-ahead-and-crush-that-for-you where “that” is everything and “no” isn’t taken for an answer. There’s respite in closer “Den Sista Resan” and the CD-bonus “Dimension 5,” but even these maintain an atmospheric severity consistent with what precedes them. One way or another, it is all fucking destroyed.
Come ye historians and classic heavy rockers. Come, reap what Rise Above Relics has sown. Though it’s hard sometimes not to think of the Rise Above Records imprint as label-honcho Lee Dorrian (ex-Cathedral, current With the Dead) picking out highlights from his own record collection — which is the stuff of legend — neither is that in any way a problem. Barnabus, who hailed and apparently on occasion still hail from the West Midlands in the UK, issued the Beginning to Unwind in 1972 as part of an original run that ended the next year. So it goes. Past its 10-minute jammy opener/longest track (immediate points) “America,” the new issue of Beginning to Unwind includes the LP, demos, live tracks, and no doubt assorted other odds and ends as well from Barnabus‘ brief time together. Songs like “The War Drags On” and “Resolute” are the stuff of ’70s-riff daydreams, while “Don’t Cry for Me My Lady” digs into proto-prog without losing its psych-folk inflection. I’m told the CD comes with a 44-page booklet, which only furthers the true archival standard of the release.
To those for whom Helen Money is a familiar entity, the arrival of a new full-length release will no doubt only be greeted with joy. The ongoing project of experimental cellist Alison Chesley, though the work itself — issued through Thrill Jockey as a welcome follow-up to 2016’s Become Zero (review here) — is hardly joyful. Coping with the universality of grief and notions of grieving-together with family, Chesley brings forth minimalism and electronics-inclusive stylstic reach in kind across the pulsating “Nemesis,” the periodic distortion of her core instrument jarring when it hits. She takes on a harp for “Coppe” and the effect is cinematic in a way that seems to find answer on the later “One Year One Ring,” after which follows the has-drums “Marrow,” but wherever Chesley goes on Atomic‘s 47 minutes, the overlay of mourning is never far off.
Belfast dual-guitar sludge five-piece Elder Druid return with seven tracks/39 minutes of ready punishment on their second album, Golgotha, answering the anger of 2017’s Carmina Satanae with densely-packed tones and grooves topped with near-universal harsh vocals (closer “Archmage” is the exception). What they’re playing doesn’t require an overdose of invention, with their focus is so much on hammering their riffs home, and certainly the interwoven leads of the title-track present some vision of intricacy for those who might demand it while also being punched in the face, and the transitional “Sentinel,” which follows,” brings some more doomly vibes ahead of “Vincere Vel Mori,” which revives the nod, “Dreadnought” has keys as well as a drum solo, and the penultimate “Paegan Dawn of Anubis” brings in an arrangement of backing vocals, so neither are they void of variety. At the feedback-soaked end of “Archmage,” Golgotha comes across genuine in its aggression and more sure of their approach than they were even just a couple years ago.
I know the whole world seems like it’s in chaos right now — mostly because it is — but go ahead and quote me on this: a band does not come along in 2020 and put out a record like Lost Orbiter and not get picked up by some label if they choose to be. Among 2020’s most promising debuts, it is progressive without pretense, tonally rich and melodically engaging, marked out by a poise of songcraft that speaks to forward potential whether it’s in the coursing leads of “Drake’s Equation” or the final slowdown/speedup of “Trappist-1” that smoothly shifts into the sample at the start of closer “Dead Space.” Mindcrawler‘s first album — self-recorded, no less — is modern cosmic-heavy brought to bear in a way that strikes such a balance between the grounded and the psychedelic that it should not be ignored, even in the massively crowded international underground from which they’re emerging. And the key point there is they are emerging, and that as thoughtfully composed as the six tracks/29 minutes of Lost Orbiter are, they only represent the beginning stages of what Mindcrawler might accomplish. If there is justice left, someone will release it on vinyl.
Michigan doom-death five-piece Temple of Void have pushed steadily toward the latter end of that equation over their now-three full-lengths, and though The World That Was (their second offering through Shadow Kingdom) is still prone to its slower tempos and is includes the classical-guitar interlude “A Single Obulus,” that stands right before “Leave the Light Behind,” which is most certainly death metal. Not arguing with it, as to do so would surely only invite punishment. The extremity only adds to the character of Temple of Void‘s work overall, and as “Casket of Shame” seems to be at war with itself, so too is it seemingly at war with whatever manner of flesh its working so diligently to separate from the bone. Across a still-brief 37 minutes, The World That Was — which caps with its most-excellently-decayed nine-minute title-track — harnesses and realizes this grim vision, and Temple of Void declare in no uncertain terms that no matter how they might choose to tip the scale on the balance of their sound, they are its master.
Lunar Swamp have spawned as a blusier-directed offshoot of Italian doomers Bretus of which vocalist Mark Wolf, guitarist/bassist Machen and drummer S.M. Ghoul are members, and sure enough, their debut single “Shamanic Owl,” fosters this approach. As the band aren’t strangers to each other, it isn’t such a surprise that they’d be able to decide on a sound and make it happen their first time out but the seven-minute roller — also the leadoff their first EP, UnderMudBlues, which is due on CD in June — also finds time to work in a nod to the central riff of Sleep‘s “Dragonaut” along with its pointed worship of Black Sabbath, so neither do they seems strictly adherent to a blues foundation, despite the slide guitar that works its way in at the finish. How the rest of the EP might play out need not be a mystery — it’s out digitally now — but as far as an introduction goes, “Shamanic Owl” will find welcome among those seeking comfort in the genre-familiar.
The nine-track/42-minute second LP, II, from Milano post-this-or-that five-piece Huge Molasses Tank Explodes certainly finds the band earning bonus points based on their moniker alone, but more than that, it is a work of reach and intricacy alike, finding the moment where New Wave emerged from out of krautrock’s fascination with synthesizer music and bring to that a psychedelic shimmer that is too vintage-feeling to be anything other than modern. It is laid back enough in its overarching affect that “The Run” feels dreamy, most especially in its guitar lines, but never is it entirely at rest, and both the centerpiece “No One” and the later “So Much to Lose” help continue the momentum that “The Run” manages so fluidly to build in a manner one might liken to space rock were the implication of strict adherence to stylistic guidelines so implicit in that categorization. They present this nuance with a natural-seeming sense of craft and in “High or Low,” a fuzzy tone that feels like only a welcome windfall. Those who can get their head around it should seek to do so, and kudos to Huge Molasses Tank Explodes for being more than just a clever name.
Set to release through Heavy Psych Sounds on the same day as the new album from his main outfit The Sonic Dawn, The Black Spider/Det Kollective Selvmord is the debut solo album from Copenhagen-based singer-songwriter and guitarist Emile Bureau, who has adopted his first name as his moniker of choice. Fair enough for the naturalism and intended intimacy of the 11-track/39-minute outing, which indeed splits itself between portions in English and in Danish, sounding likewise able to bring together sweet melodies in both. Edges of distortion in “Bundlos” and some percussion in the second half’s title-track give a semblance of arrangement to the LP, but at the core is Emile himself, his vocals and guitar, and that’s clearly the purpose behind it. Where The Sonic Dawn often boast a celebratory feel, The Black Spider/Det Kollective Selvmord is almost entirely subdued, and its expressive sensibility comes through regardless of language.
Sonic restlessness! “Fire Dome” begins with a riffy rush, “Forever Zero” vibes out on low end and classic swing, the title-track feels like an Endless Boogie jam got lost in the solar system, “Celestial Tunnel” is all-thrust until it isn’t at all, “Blind Faith” is an acoustic interlude, and “Dark Matter” is a punk song. Because god damn, of course it is. It is little short of a miracle Saturno Grooves make their second album, Cosmic Echoes as remarkably cohesive as it is, yet through it all they hold fast to class and purpose alike, and from its spacious outset to its bursting finish, there isn’t a minute of Cosmic Echoes that feels like happenstance, even though they’re obviously following one impulse after the next in terms of style. Heavy (mostly) instrumentalism that works actively not to be contained. Out among the echoes, Saturno Grooves might just be finding their own wavelength.
Posted in Reviews on January 8th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to Day Three of The Obelisk’s Winter 2020 Quarterly Review. It’s gonna be kind of a wild one. There’s a lot going on across this batch of 10 records, and it gets kind of weird — also, it doesn’t — so sit tight. It’ll be fun either way. At least I hope so. I’ll let you know when I’m finished writing. Ha.
Today we pass the halfway point on the road to 50 reviews by Friday. I think I’m feeling alright up to this point. It’s been a crunch behind the scenes, but it usually is and I’ve done this plenty of times now, so it’s not so bad. I always hold my breath before getting started, but once I’m in it, I rarely feel anymore overwhelmed than I might on any other given day. Which is still plenty, but you know, you make it work.
So let’s do that.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Alcest, Spiritual Instinct
Perhaps unsurprisingly given the label’s modus in this regard as it’s picked up bands from the heavy underground over the last eight to 10 years — arguably a movement that began with Graveyard in 2012 — but Parisian post-black metal innovators Alcest make something of an aesthetic shift with their first outing for Nuclear Blast, Spiritual Instinct. Melody, of course, remains central to their purposes, but in the nine-minute side B opener “L’Île des Morts” as in its side A counterpart “Les Jardins de Minuit,” the subsequent “Protection” and “Sapphire” and even in the crescendo — glorious wash as it is — of the closing title-track, one can hear a sharper, decidedly metallic edge to the guitar and impact of the drums. That’s a turn from 2016’s Kodama (review here), which offered more of a conceptual progressivism, and of course the prior 2014 LP, Shelter (review here), which cast of metallic trappings almost entirely. Why the change? Who cares, it works, and they still have room for the cinematic keyboard-led drama of “Le Miroir” and plenty of the wistful emotionalism that’s been their hallmark since their debut in 2007. They’ve long since mastered their approach and Spiritual Instinct serves as another example of their being able to make their sound do whatever they want.
Four records and just about a decade deep into a tenure that began with the 2010 Rock Music EP (review here), Iowa heavy rockers Superchief have found ways to bring an inventiveness to what’s still an ostensibly straightforward approach. Moontower, named for a lookout point where — at least presuming from the album’s artwork — people tailgate and get drunk, finds the dudely five-piece no less embroiled in burl than they’ve ever been, but using samples and other elements in interesting ways as with the revving motor matching step with the drums at the start of “Barking Out at the Blood Moon” or keyboards in “Rock ‘n’ Roll War” filling out the breaks where the riffs take a step back. Handclaps early in “Beer Me Motherfucker” — as much post-“Introduction” mission statement for the LP as a whole as anything — set the party tone, and from the shaker on “The Approach” to the Southern tinged shred and organ on closer “Priority of the Summer,” a car speeding by at the finish, Superchief find ways to make each of their songs stand out from its surroundings. Then they pair that with choice riffery, pro-shop sound and hooks. Sure enough, it’s once again a winning formula and a distinct showing of personality and craft that still comports with classic heavy style.
Boston duo Test Meat are so utterly bullshit-free as to be almost intimidating. Guitarist/vocalist Darryl Shepard (Kind, Blackwolfgoat, Hackman, Milligram, etc.) and drummer Michael Nashawaty (Planetoid) dig into heavy grunge and noise rock influences across a 10-track/27-minute full-length that resounds with punker roots and an ethic of willful straightforwardness. It’s not that the music is so intense there would be no room for frills, it’s that the structures are so tight and so purposefully barebones that they’d be incongruous. And it’s not that Test Meat are writing half-hearted songs, either. Frankly, neither the quality of their material nor the sharpness of the sound they captured at New Alliance Studio with Alec Rodriguez would remotely lead one to believe so, and nothing with such stylistic clarity happens by mistake. This is a band with a mission, and Enjoy finds them bringing that mission to life with a complete lack of pretense. It’s a reminder of what made grunge so appealing in the first place some 30 years and an entire internet ago. Songs and performance. Yes.
Following a 2018 live demo, Portuguese instrumental three-piece Stones of Babylon — guitarist Rui Belchior, bassist João Medeiros, drummer Pedro Branco — embark with a conceptualist intent on their debut full-length, Hanging Gardens, issued through Raging Planet. An opening sample in the leadoff title-track describing the hanging gardens of Babylon sets the stage for what the band goes on to describe with wordless atmospheres over the five-song/47-minute long-player, their vision of heavy psychedelia touched with a suitable Middle Eastern/North African influence in the initial unfolding of the meditative 11-minute “Coffea Arabica” or the winding lead work over the punchy low end of “Black Pig’s Secret Megalith.” But Hanging Gardens is still very much a heavy rock release, and its material showcases that in tone and mood, with volume changes and builds taking hold like that in centerpiece “Ziggurat,” which in its second half sets a march of distorted largesse nodding forth until its final crashout. They save the most drift for “Babylonia (The Deluge),” and if they’re finishing with the story of the flood, one can’t help but wonder what narrative course they might follow in a second record. On the other hand, if one comes out of Hanging Gardens trying to envision Stones of Babylon‘s future, then the debut would seem to have done its job, and so it has. There’s stylistic and tonal promise, and with the edge of storytelling, an opportunity for development of which one hopes they avail themselves.
Frontman Argy and Greek heavy rock institution Nightstalker return with their eighth album in a quarter-century run, Great Hallucinations. Also their first LP for Heavy Psych Sounds after issuing 2016’s As Above So Below (review here) on Oak Island Records, it’s an up-to-par eight-track collection of catchy tracks marked out by psychedelic elements but underpinned by traditionalist structures, Argy‘s distinctive frontman presence, and an all-around unforced feeling of a mature, established band doing what they do. Not going through the motions in the sense of fulfilling some perceived obligation to stay on the road, but creating the songs they want to create in nothing less than the manner they want to create them. I won’t take away from the roll of “Seven out of Ten,” but as “Cursed” taps into a legacy of European heavy rock that runs from Dozer‘s turn of the century work — not to mention Nightstalker‘s own — to outfits today, it’s hard not to appreciate an act being so assured in what they do in terms of execution while actually doing it. In that way, Great Hallucinations is as refreshing as it is familiar.
From their beginnings in garage doom and subsequent dive into exploitation/vamp psych, Barcelona’s Lewis and the Strange Magics put themselves in even weirder territory on their third album, Melvin’s Holiday, centering a story around the titular character whose life is in turmoil and so he goes on vacation. The sound of the band seems to do likewise, veering into ’70s lounge sleaze and island influences, toying with funky rhythms and keyboards amid catchy choruses across what still would have to be called an experimental 34-minute run. It is a concept album, to be sure, and one that comes through in its stylistic choices like the dreamy keyboards of the centerpiece “Carpet Sun” or the fuzzy stomp in “Sad in Paradise” and the percussion amid the Ween-sounding lead guitar buzz of “Lounge Decadence.” This could be Lewis and the Strange Magics working purposefully to cast off any and all expectation that might be placed on them, or it could just be a one-off whim, but there’s no question they pull off an impressive turn and carry the concept through in story and substance. When it comes to what they might do next time, the payoff of closer “Afternoon on the Sand” serves as one more demonstration that the band can do whatever the hell they want with their sound, so I’d expect them to do no less than precisely that.
The debut EP from Lansing, Michigan, four-piece Room 101, called simply The Burden, would seem to take a scorched-earth approach to atmospheric sludge, setting their balance to exploring ambient textures and samples in pieces like “You Will Never Know Security” — which, sure enough, samples 1984 to recount the origin of the band’s name — and the brief “A Place to Bury Strangers,” while the churning “As the Crow Flies” and “Missing Rope” present an outright extremity that comes through in post-Godflesh vocal barks and a Through Silver in Blood-style intensity of churn and general approach. Yet I wouldn’t necessarily call Room 101 post-metal — at least not here. The solo on “Missing Rope” seems to draw from more traditional sources, and the manner in which the chugging in “Plague Dogs” caps with a sudden quick series of hits recalls grindcore’s pivoting brutality. One might hope all of these elements get fleshed out more over subsequent releases, but as a first outing, part of The Burden‘s promise is also drawn from the sheer rawness of its impact and the lack of compromise in its wrench of gut.
Albatross Overdrive‘s 2016 LP, Keep it Running (review here), ran 31 minutes. Their follow-up, Ascendant, reaches to 33, but loses two tracks in the doing. Clearly, one way or the other, this is a conscious ethic on the band’s part, and it tells you something about their approach to heavy rock as well. There’s nothing too fancy about it — even in “Come Get Some,” which is the longest song the band have ever written at 6:40 — and they are not an outfit to waste their time. Structures run from verse to chorus to verse to chorus led through by guitarists Andrew Luddy and Derek Phillips and Art Campos‘ gritty delivery with an expectedly solid underpinning from bassist Mark Abshire (ex-Fu Manchu) and drummer Rodney Peralta and songs like the careening title-track and the blues-licked shover “Undecided” are enough to give the impression that anything else would be superfluous. They’re not lacking style — because ’70s-meets-’90s-straight-ahead-heavy is, indeed, a style — but it’s the level of their craft that stands them out.
Kyuss-style riffing takes a beating at the hands of Chicago newcomers Cloud Cruiser — who are not to be confused with Denver’s Cloud Catcher — who make their debut on vinyl through Shuga Records with I: Capacity, giving an aggressive push to what’s commonly considered a more laid back sound. In tone and rhythm and general gruffness, they are a deceptively pointed outfit, with turns of broader groove like that at the outset of “575” that speak to more influences than simply those of the Cali desert. They start off catchy and familiar-if-reshaped, though, on “Transmission” and “Glow,” letting their tale of alien abduction unfold across the lyrics while setting up the shifts that “Gone” and “575” and the thick-boogie of “Orbitalclast” will make before the EP’s would-be-clean-but-for-all-that-dirt-it’s-kicked-up 23-minute run is through. The balance they present speaks to a background in metal, though if they’re fresh arrivals in this realm of heavy, you’d never know it from the lumbering finish they present. Sometimes you just gotta get mean to get your point across. It suits
It is a progressive interpretation of fuzz ‘n’ buzz that San Francisco four-piece The Spiral Electric realize on their self-titled, self-released debut long-player, with recording and mixing by Dead Meadow‘s Steve Kille, the band — vocalist/synthesist/noisemaker/guitarist/percussionist/co-producer Clay Andrews, lead guitarist/backing vocalist Nicolas Percey, bassist Michael Summers and drummer Matias Drago — bridge the generally disparate realms of heavy psych and riffer heavy rock, giving a dreamy sensibility to “Marbles” with no less an organic vibe than they brought to the howling, attitudinal push of “No Bridge Left Unburned” earlier. They skillfully mess with the scale across the lengthy 14-track span, and thereby hold their audience for the duration in longer pieces like “The True Nature of Sacrifice” (8:24) as easily as they do in a series of three episodic interludes of noise, field recordings, synth, etc. This is a band ready, willing and able to space. the hell. out., and after listening to the record, you’d be a fool if you wanted to try. Not that they don’t have aspects to shore up or shifts that could be tightened and so on, but from ambition to fruition, it’s the kind of first record bands should aspire to make.
Posted in audiObelisk on November 11th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
As they stand on the precipice of their second tape EP release of 2019, and having just played their first gig in March of this year, Detroit classic metal four-piece Midas extend that waste-no-time ethic to their songwriting. Their first offering was March’s Solid Gold Heavy Metal (review here) that found the four-piece with members of Wild Savages and Bison Machine coming together around a shared appreciation for Priest, Maiden and all things NWOBHM and proto-heavy rock raucousness. The follow-up 16-minute four-tracker, Still Hungry, follows a similar course — it’s only been a few months, after all — but seems to be even tighter in its presentation and even more than its predecessor both the triumph and the celebration thereof, the double-guitar four-piece bringing the party and the reason to celebrate in the first place. It’s a fun combination in a way that doesn’t actually take itself as seriously yet as Iron Maiden always seemed to. One hopes they never get to that point, frankly.
The guitars of Casey O’Ryan (lead) and Joe Kupiec (rhythm, also vocals) lead the charge as one would expect, and the sense of gallop on second track “Usurper” tells you nearly everything you need to know about where they’re coming from. Following the winding grandeur of opener “Sands of Time,” the charge of “Usurper” is both the longest cut on the tape at 4:59 and a standout in terms of its pace. Choral vocals echo in the second half over drum thud from Breck Crandell as they make their way back toward the chorus, and whether it’s Anthony Franchina holding together the low-end beneath the head-spinning fretwork from his six-string compatriots or the turn to a more angular, heavy rocking jabs on “Street Knights,” Midas continue to wear their love of heavy metal glories on their sleeve. They call to mind the electrifying early days of Chicago’s Bible of the Devil in terms of their style and energy, and thereby seem to be picking up the torch of a Midwestern metallicism that, well, is the kind of thing that might produce a festival like Alehorn of Power or Legions of Metal, the latter of which Midas will play in Spring 2020.
They close Still Hungry with “White Wolf” and actually dare to hit the brakes momentarily in the process, but soon it’s back to choice dueling leads complemented by some particularly tasty basslines, and they cap with a driving forward riff and a few pow-pow-pow hits before dropping off cold at the finish. Boom, cue applause. You know, for a band in their first year to have such a sense of what they want to do, it basically tells you that they got together with an idea in mind. Midas isn’t a group that just happened to start playing in a room together and produced this grade of dual-axe antics. But even with a firm aesthetic goal, it’s hard to predict where they might go and what they might bring to their sound over the course of a whole album. Interludes, solos, arrangements, and so on. They’ve demonstrated twice now that they know what they’re doing in terms of songcraft, but that’s not the same as fleshing out their personality across a debut full-length. Before they get there, they’re reportedly in talks to bring Still Hungry and Solid Gold Heavy Metal to a compiled CD and LP for next Spring — presumably sometime around Legions of Metal, but who knows — and then I’d guess it’ll be sometime after that they settle down to work on their first proper long-player.
Whenever that shows up, it’ll be one to look forward to, as Still Hungry proves they are most certainly famished, what on earth might it take to sate a sound such as this?
Full Still Hungry EP stream is below, followed by tour dates. Thanks for reading:
And enjoy:
MIDAS has followed up ‘Solid Gold Heavy Metal’ with the heavier and more sinister ‘Still Hungry’. Still straddling that line that split the 70s and 80s, they bring bigger and more complex sounds to the feast with their latest release. Tape pre-order will be live on Nov. 11th. Tape release date is Nov. 20 through Hardcore Psychedelia in Detroit. Catch them on tour on the East Coast this November, and at Legions of Metal this spring in Chicago alongside speed metal legends, Exciter.
Still Hungry Tour Nov. 15th – New York – Sunnyvale* Nov. 16th – Philadelphia – The Tusk* Nov. 17th – Baltimore – The Depot* Nov. 19th – Providence – Dusk Nov. 27th – Ann Arbor MI – Lo Fi Nov. 29th – Dayton OH – Blind Bob’s
MIDAS is: Casey O’Ryan – Lead Guitar Joe Kupiec – Vox, Rhythm Guitar Anthony Franchina – Bass Breck Crandell – Drums
Posted in Reviews on September 30th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
Call two friends and tell them to tell two friends to tell two friends, because the Quarterly Review has returned. This time around, it’s 50 records front to back for Fall 2019 and there are some big names and some smaller names and a whole lot of in between which is just how I like it. Between today and Friday, each day 10 album reviews will be posted in a single batch like this one, and although by Wednesday this always means I’m totally out of my mind, it’s always, always, always worth it to be able to write about so much cool stuff. So sit tight, because there’s a lot to get through and, as ever, time’s at a premium.
Thanks in advance for keeping up, and I hope you find something you dig.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
Monkey3, Sphere
It’s a full-on Keanu Reeves “whoa” when opening track “Spirals” kicks in on Monkey3‘s sixth album, Sphere (released by Napalm), and that’s by no means the last one on the cinematic six-tracker. The long-running Swiss mostly-instrumentalists have been consistently, persistently underappreciated throughout their career, but whether it’s the aural scope of guitar and keys in “Axis” or the swaps between intensity and sprawl in 14-minute closer “Ellipsis,” their latest work is consuming in its sense of triumph. Even the four-minute “Ida,” which seems at first like it’s barely going to be more than an interlude, finds a thread of majestic cosmic groove and rides it for the duration, while the proggy immersion of “Prism” and the harder drive of “Mass” — not to mention that shredding solo — make the middle of the record anything but a post-hypnosis dip. I won’t pretend to know if Sphere is the record that finally gets the Lausanne four-piece the respect they’ve already well deserved, but if it was, one could only say it was for good reason. Blends of heft, progressive craft, and breadth are rarely so resonant.
When you call your record Mount Crushmore, you need to bring it, and much to their credit, Baltimorean sludge-rocking five-piece Asthma Castle do precisely that on their debut full-length. Issued through Hellmistress Records, the 37-minute/six-track outing is a wordplay-laced pummeler that shows as much persona in its riffing and massive groove as it does in titles like “The Incline of Western Civilization” and “The Book of Duderonomy.” Trades between early-Mastodonic twists and lumbering sludge crash add a frenetic and unpredictable feel to pieces like the title-track, while “Methlehem” trades its plod for dual-guitar antics punctuated by metallic double-kick, all the while the vocals trade back and forth between growls, shouts, cleaner shouts, the odd scream, etc., because basically if you can keep up with it, Asthma Castle wouldn’t be doing their job. One shudders to think of the amount of Natty Bo consumed during its making, but Mount Crushmore is a wild and cacophonous enough time to live up to the outright righteousness of its title. If I graded reviews, it would get a “Fuckin’ A+,” with emphasis on “fuckin’ a.”
Some day the world will wake up and realize the rock and roll powerhouse it had in Brooklyn’s The Giraffes, but by then it’ll be too late. The apocalypse will have happened long ago, and it’ll be Burgess Meredith putting on a vinyl of Flower of the Cosmos in the New York Library as “FAKS” echoes out through the stacks of now-meaningless tomes and the dust of nuclear winter falls like snow outside the windows. The band’s tumultuous history is mirrored in the energy of their output, and yet to hear the melody and gentle fuzz at the outset of “Golden Door,” there’s something soothing about their work as well that, admittedly, “Raising Kids in the End Times” is gleeful in undercutting. Cute as well they pair that one with “Dorito Dreams” on this, their seventh record in a 20-plus-year run, which has now seen them find their footing, lose it, find it again, and in this record and songs like the masterfully frenetic “Fill up Glass” and the air-tight-tense “Like Hate” and “Romance,” weave a document every bit worthy of Mr. Meredith’s attention as he mourns for the potential of this godforsaken wasteland. Oh, what we’ll leave behind. Such pretty ruins.
In the fine tradition of heavy rock as grown-up punk, North Carolina’s Bask bring progressive edge and rolling-Appalachian atmospherics to the underlying energy of III, their aptly-titled and Season of Mist-issued third album. Their foot is in any number of styles, from Baroness-style noodling to a hard twang that shows up throughout and features prominently on the penultimate “Noble Daughters II – The Bow,” but the great triumph of III, and really the reason it works at all, is because the band find cohesion in this swath of influences. They’re a band who obviously put thought into what they do, making it all the more appropriate to think of them as prog, but as “Three White Feet” and “New Dominion” show at the outset, they don’t serve any aesthetic master so much as the song itself. Closing with banjo and harmonies and a build of crash cymbal on “Maiden Mother Crone” nails the point home in a not-understated way, but at no point does III come across as hyper-theatrical so as to undercut the value of what Bask are doing. It’s a more patient album than it at first seems, but given time to breathe, III indeed comes to life.
Listening to the weighty rollout of opening cut “Bite the Ash” on Faerie Ring‘s debut album, The Clearing (on King Volume Records), one is reminded of the energy that once-upon-a-time came out of Houston’s Venomous Maximus. There’s a similar feeling of dark energy surging through the riffs and echoing vocals, but the Evansville, Indiana, four-piece wind up on a different trip. Their take is more distinctly Sabbathian on “Lost Wind” and even the swinging “Heavy Trip” lives up to its stated purpose ahead of the chugging largesse of finisher “Heaven’s End.” They find brash ground on “The Ring” and the slower march of “Somnium,” but there’s metal beneath the lumbering and it comes out on “Miracle” in a way that the drums late in “Lost Wind” seem to hint toward on subsequent listens. It’s a mix of riff-led elements that should be readily familiar to many listeners, but the sheer size and clarity of presentation Faerie Ring make throughout The Clearing makes me think they’ll look to distinguish themselves going forward, and so their first record holds all the more potential for that.
Begun as the solo-project of London-based multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Mark Walker and presently a trio including Louis Kinder and Jonathan Walker as well, Desert Sands make their recorded debut through A Records with the three-song/half-hour The Ascent EP, a work of psychedelic existentialism that conveys its cosmic questioning even before the lyrics start, with an opening riff and rhythmic lurch to “Are You There” that seems to throw its central query into a void that either will or won’t answer. Does it? The hell should I know, but The Ascent proves duly transcendent in its pulsations as “Head Towards the Light” and 11:45 closer “Yahweh” — yeah, I guess we get there — bring drifting, languid enlightenment to these spiritual musings. The finale is, of course, a jam in excelsis and if drop-acid-find-god is the narrative we’re working with, then Desert Sands are off to a hell of a start as a project. Regardless of how one might ultimately come down (and it is, by my estimation at least, a comedown) on the question of human spirituality, there’s no denying the power and ethereal force of the kind of creativity on display in The Ascent. One will wait impatiently to see what comes next.
Say what you want about New Orleans or North Carolina or wherever the hell else, Midwestern sludge is another level of filth. To wit, the Carcass-style vocals that slice through the raw, dense riffing on “Aspirate on Aspirations” feel like the very embodiment of modern disillusion, and there’s some flourish of melodic guitar pluck there, but that only seems to give the ensuing crunch more impact, and likewise the far-back char of “Freezing in Fire” as it relates to the subsequent “Dead Idles,” as Cavalcade refute the trappings of genre in tempo while still seeming to burrow a hole for themselves in the skull of the converted. “Noose Tie” and “We Dig Our Own Graves” tell the story, but while the recording itself is barebones, Cavalcade aren’t now and never really have been so simple as to be a one-trick band. For more than a decade, they’ve provided a multifaceted and trickily complex downer extremity, and Sonic Euthanasia does this as well, bringing their sound to new places and new levels of abrasion along its punishing way. Easy listening? Shit. You see that eye on the cover? That’s the lizard people staring back at you. Have fun with that.
Long Island chug-rockers Restless Spirit would seem to have been developing the material for their self-released debut album, Lord of the New Depression, over the last couple years on a series of short releases, but the songs still sound fresh and electrified in their vitality. If this was 1992 or ’93, they’d be signed already to RoadRacer Records and put on tour with Life of Agony, whose River Runs Red would seem to be a key influence in the vocals of the nine-track/39-minute offering, but even on their own, the metal-tinged five-piece seem to do just fine. Their tracks are atmospheric and aggressive and kind, and sincere in their roll, capturing the spirit of a band like Down with somewhat drawn-back chestbeating, “Dominion” aside. They seem to be challenging themselves to push outside those confines though in “Deep Fathom Hours,” the longest track at 7:35 with more complexity in the melody of the vocals and guitar, and that suits them remarkably well as they dig into this doomly take on LOA and Type O Negative and others from the early ’90s NYC underground — they seem to pass on Biohazard, which is fine — made legendary with the passage of time. As a gentleman of a certain age, I find it exceptionally easy to get on board.
An eight-piece outfit based in Arvika, Sweden, which is far enough west to be closer to Oslo than Stockholm, Children of the Sün blend the classic heavy rock stylizations of MaidaVale, first-LP Blues Pills and others with a decidedly folkish bent. Including an intro, their The Sign Records debut album, Flowers, is eight track and 34 minutes interweaving organ and guitar, upbeat vibes and bluesier melodies, taking cues from choral-style vocals on “Emmy” in such a way as to remind of Church of the Cosmic Skull, though the aesthetic here is more hippie than cult. The singing on “Sunschild” soars in that fashion as well, epitomizing the lush melody found across Flowers as the keys, guitar, bass and drums work to match in energy and presence. For a highlight, I’d pick the more subdued title-track, which still has its sense of movement thanks to percussion deep in the mix but comes arguably closest to the flower-child folk Children of the Sün seem to be claiming for their own, though the subsequent closing duo of “Like a Sound” and “Beyond the Sun” aren’t far off either. They’re onto something. One hopes they continue to explore in such sünshiny fashion.
Having made their debut with 2016’s There is Nothing (discussed here), Indianapolis downtrodden heavy rock four-piece Void King come back for a second go with Barren Dominion (on Off the Record Label), a title of similar theme that finds them doom riffing through massive tonality on “Burnt at Both Ends,” asking what if Soundgarden played atmospheric doom rock on “Crippled Chameleon” — uh, it would be awesome? yup — and opening each side with its longest track (double immediate points) in a clearly intended vinyl structure hell bent on immersing the listener as much as possible in the lumber and weight the band emit. Frontman Jason Kindred adds extra burl to his already-plenty-dudely approach on “Crippled Chameleon” and closer “The Longest Winter,” the latter with some harmonies to mirror those of opener “A Lucid Omega,” and the band around him — bassist Chris Carroll, drummer Derek Felix and guitarist Tommy Miller — seem to have no trouble whatsoever in keeping up, there or anywhere else on the eight-song/46-minute outing. Topped with striking cover art from Diogo Soares, Barren Dominion is deceptively nuanced and full-sounding. Not at all empty.
