Here’s how I wound up with four records embedded at the bottom of this post: First, I got an email from ReykjaDoom with a much more polite take on, “Hey goober we finished our lineup this week don’t miss it.” Then I wrote back and was like, “Thanks, sorry, cool,” and searched out the finished lineup and poster that, owing to the age of wonders in which we live, is both above (horizontally) and below (vertically) this text. One likes to be thorough.

Next, I scrolled through ReykjaDoom‘s social media posts to see if I could find which bands were announced, and here’s where it happened. Reading backwards from last to first, I was like, “Oh sweet, Moonstone rule. I should include Growth (review here) with the post” — and yes, my inner monologue does include review links at this point. Then I saw MC NYASNOI, and I’d never heard them before, so I checked that out.

Five bucks later, I had a download from Bandcamp and at that point, grabbing an embed code is practically instinct for me. Record is wild. Super-weird. Will be in my next Quarterly Review. Next was Nornahetta and though I’m not a huge black metal guy, I was curious to hear a maybe-improv version thereof, so I hit their Bandcamp too, found an older release that represented some of the harshness of Iceland’s dried-lava-char take on the style. Easy choice to put that in too, and though I already knew at that point I’d have to have everybody, seeing that the last band was resonant cavernous doomers Morpholith would have made the choice easy anyhow.

That’s one, two, three, four, in order as I encountered them and presented that way below. I’m posting about a lot of Spring fests in the next few weeks, probably. Because this is the last announcement from ReykjaDoom 2024 — which used to be Doomcember, but switched months — and because it’s happening earlier than much of the Spring fest season in Europe (and separated geographically from the mainland), I don’t want it to get lost in the shuffle, not the least because of the blend of different styles on the bill and the fact that, only knowing half the bands in a given lineup reveal, each one turned out to be consuming in its own way.

Glad I got that email. Here’s word from the fest:

The last bands of ReykjaDoom Fest 2024 are coming.

First we welcome Morpholith.

Their debut LP is expected to come next year, utilising many sub-genres of doom metal to create variant kinds of absolute wall of sound.

—

The second announcement of the day are the improvisational black metal band Nornahetta.

Known for sporadic live performances with no pre-written material, the mysterious force will do a uniquely slow and gloomy performance at ReykjaDoom Fest 2024.

—

The third band announcement of the day, is the electronic doom metal band MC MYASNOI.

The band released an EP “falling lower than you expected” earlier in October. Their sound still has their signature synth elements from previous releases but combines it with spooky, experimental doom metal.

—

The final band of ReykjaDoom Fest 2024 is the Polish band Moonstone.

Atmospheric stoner doom with powerful riffs, gloomy vocals and sensational moments.

Their recent performance at our comrade’s fest, Høstsabbat, only reassured us that they are the perfect fit for our next festival.

Unmissable addition to an already tight line-up.

Doom lives!

ReykjaDoom Fest 2024

8-9. March
Gaukurinn – Reykjavík

Konvent (DK)
Kælan Mikla
Dread Sovereign (IE)
Moonstone (PL)
Altari
CXVIII
Kvelja
MC MYASNOI
Morpholith
Múr
Nornahetta
Sleeping Giant
Slor
Volcanova

Tickets: https://www.midix.is/en//eid/89

Let there be doom!

https://www.facebook.com/doomcember/
https://www.instagram.com/reykjadoom/
https://www.reykjadoom.com/

Moonstone, Growth (2023)

MC MYASNOI, Falling Lower Than You Expected (2023)

Nornahetta, Synesthetic Pareidolia (2017)

Morpholith, Null Dimensions (2020)

Somewhere between and EP, an LP, and who-cares-lighten-up is the 29-minute self-titled debut from Icelandic fuzz riffers Black Desert Sun, as the Reykjavik four-piece offer clues to their sound right in the name. The intention of the seven-songer, which was originally released by the band in 2016 and sees its first vinyl issue in 2022 through Sweden’s Ozium Records, can be derived from ‘black desert sun’ itself, the first two words possibly a reference to Iceland’s abundance of igneous, volcanic rock, much of it dried lava that has turned black. And yes, there are black sand dunes and beaches, and yes, the sun shines on them, so a ‘black desert sun’ — if it wasn’t actually their intention, it at least is easy to read that way — is the band’s way of conveying their goal of bringing California-style desert rock into their own place, time and songwriting.

The use of ‘sun’ in particular brings to mind Blues for the Red Sun by Kyuss, which is a strong reference point for Black Desert Sun‘s Black Desert Sun from second track “Spliff Sucker” (as opposed, one assumes, to bong ripper or hookah huffer, etc.) onward through “Pharoas Serpents” (sic) and the lumbering centerpiece “Psycho Wizard.” Comprised of vocalist Björg Amalía Hraunfjörð Ívarsdóttir, currently of Chernobyl Jazz Club, drummer Brynjar Ólafsson, and guitarist Víðir Örn Gunnarsson and bassist Stefán Gestur Stefánsson, both of whom were already getting their next band, the more crush-minded Morpholith, going by the time this record first came out, Black Desert Sun would only release this one collection during their tenure, and six years after the fact — which isn’t that long in the context of the expanding universe — it sounds more like a stoner relic from Europe circa 1995 than something that came along more than 20 years later. That, of course, is no accident.

It’s been a few years now, and these things are cyclical as new listeners come, go, stay or don’t in a given microgenre’s aesthetic terrain, but the whole Kyuss-worship thing has kind of receded. Black Desert Sun having come out in 2016 tracks with the four-piece’s origins circa 2013, which is just about in line with a generational shift (see also right now) happening in heavy music listenership as the heavy underground community took to social networks, found each other, and flourished for a time in its revelry for, among other things, the aforementioned Californian desert rock progenitors. I don’t know how Black Desert Sun came together, but the willing-to-be-silly careening groove of “Sparkle Juice” and the instrumental opener “Echobrain” (anyone remember that band Jason Newsted was in when he left Metallica?), the sense of revival they bring, speak to that particular moment in time, younger players adopting the influence and tenets of a particular style and invariably bringing something of themselves to it.

Ívarsdóttir, who seems to nod more directly at Unida in “Pharoas Serpents” and sits out the closer “Psychedelic Soundscape Part III” — is malleable as a singer and she brings a throatier edge to “Spliff Sucker” as a first impression following on from the intended hypnosis of “Echobrain” at the outset, which is the second longest track at 4:57 and obviously something with more depth than just an intro riff or some such. “Pharoas Serpents” opens up a bit in the hook, is more swinging and less tense, but still ultimately in the same vein as the song before it, and the penultimate “Sparkle Juice” operates similarly in its sub-four-minute hook-based thrust, the band relying on tone and groove to bring out the atmosphere of the pieces and succeeding in making them do precisely that. Slower in its unfolding, “Psycho Wizard” is a highlight in no small part because of the layering Ívarsdóttir does with her lines, but if one is looking for a point on Black Desert Sun at which a nascent hint of Morpholith‘s cosmic-doom largesse can be found, there’s no question that’s it as Gunnarsson and Stefánsson unfurl a nod topped with a spacious echoing solo in the back half of the track, leaving room for a sample to answer back to the beginning of the song as well.

“Psycho Wizard” is the longest inclusion, and might be the broadest reaching, but the album’s starting with “Echobrain” and finishing with “Psychedelic Soundscape Part III” — which at 3:35 is more of a rocker than one might expect given the title — gives a firm sense of structure at the same time it opens the audience’s mind from outset for whatever’s coming. Mostly that’s riffs, and that’s just fine. Sometimes straight-up, go-to-ground, desert-style heavy roll is just the thing, and whatever else “Echobrain” tells you at the beginning, it tells you you’re certainly in for some of that. And while the core of the album is what the band themselves bring to it, guest vocals from Jens Ólafsson of Icelandic heavy rock royalty Brain Police on “Monster in Haze” and guest guitar from Gunnar Örn Sigurðsson of Orn Custom Guitars on “Monster in Haze” and “Psychedelic Soundscape Part III” speak immediately to the band’s desire to position themselves among their country’s vibrant heavy underground.

In 2016, supporting this album, Black Desert Sun played the renowned Eisnaflug Festival — they covered Kyuss‘ “Molten Universe” live regularly at the time, had a new song called “White Widow” in that set — and while it’s been Morpholith who have become the priority on something of a different stylistic track in the years since, there’s no real question that Black Desert Sun had potential of their own. As to what happened to end the band, or if they might not show up tomorrow with a new album announcement, I don’t know, but Ozium‘s reissue is a chance for a listener like me who missed it the first time to get on board while also giving some context to where Morpholith — who have two EPs out and whose debut full-length is eagerly anticipated — come from beyond their own influences. If that makes it a footnote, fine, but it’s one that rocks. Not changing the world or reinventing heavy rock, but a celebration of genre, by genre, for genre. If you can’t dig that, pick a different genre.

Black Desert Sun, Black Desert Sun (2016/2022)

Black Desert Sun on Facebook

Black Desert Sun on Bandcamp

Ozium Records on Instagram

Ozium Records on Facebook

Ozium Records on Bandcamp

Ozium Records store

Icelandic cosmic crushers Morpholith recently issued their debut full-length, Null Dimensions, through Ozium Records and Sludgelord Records. Guess what? The “We Hate You” cover isn’t on it. It happens. The album is made up of two gargantuan psych-doom rituals, with “Orb” (20:20) and “Monocarp” (13:31) unfolding like hidden messages waiting for those whose ears are tuned to the right frequency to hear them. A dogwhistle calling the doomed to prayer before some massive idol or maybe one of those shiny monoliths that keeps showing up hither and yon. I don’t know if there have been any in Iceland yet, but only a place with black volcanic sand could possibly hope to produce minor-key meditations like those swirling in the fog of “Orb,” which transcends circa 13:20 into a sludge that’s harsher and meaner and betrays Morpholith‘s connections to more extreme metallurgies, though I’m reasonably certain Iceland’s heavy underground is the same 20 or so dudes and they’re just all in five different bands, most of them awesome.

Either way, “Orb” and “Monocarp,” the latter of which picks up directly from the first track and slams its point home with no less impact for the spaciousness that accompanies, shifting eventually into a kind of pummeling post-sludge odd-time chaos before becoming engulfed in its own finish, are a rare fix to the problem ‘nothing sounds heavy enough.’ As for their take on “We Hate You,” it’s as suitable an homage to 2020 as anything I could come up with unless there were actually some way to set the year’s lungs on fire, and that it coincides with Dopethrone‘s 20th anniversary is a fitting touch as well. You get a sense of the tonal density Morpholith have on offer throughout Null Dimensions in “We Hate You” as well, though vocalist Snæbjörn Þór Árnasson adjusts his delivery to play more directly off of Jus Oborn, and of course it’s a shorter sampling of their wares than either of the two cuts on the album-proper, but if you’re looking for a way to proceed here, I’ve got you covered. Do both.

The album stream is down near the bottom of this post, the video is premiering below, and any suggestion that you have to pick one or the other to dig into is pure fiction. Watch the video and then dive into the record. Dive into the record and then check out the video. It doesn’t matter. The point is Morpholith kick ass on both. I can’t say it any plainer than that.

And if I can add my own spin on it, I fucking hate the holidays, so misanthropic bludgeoning sludge suits me just fine right now. If that’s where you land too, so be it.

Enjoy the clip (and album):

Morpholith, “We Hate You” official video premiere

The video we have made is our tribute to Electric Wizard’s Dopethrone, which was released 20 years ago now and the year of 2020. The song is one we know well and we planned to play it live at some point this year, but that of course did not work out. So to celebrate one of the greatest doom metal records of all time and this exceptionally gloomy year, we decided to record the song and make a video for it instead. Our tribute to Electric Wizard and their masterpiece, Dopethrone on the 20th anniversary of the album.

Dedicated, with all our hate, to the year of 2020.

Our new EP Null Dimensions is out on Ozium and Sludgelord Records!

We got help from two legends of our black metal scene to help us with making the track. D.G from Misþyrming (also Drottinn, Naðra and Núll to name a few) recorded, mixed and mastered the audio for us and Andri Björn Birgisson from Auðn shot, directed and edited the video.

Morpholith are:
Snæbjörn Þór Árnasson | vocals
Víðir Örn Gunnarsson | Guitars
Hörður Jónsson | Guitars, synths
Stefán Gestur Stefansson | Bass
Jónas Hauksson | Drums

Morpholith, Null Dimensions (2020)

Morpholith on Thee Facebooks

Morpholith on Instagram

Morpholith on Bandcamp

Ozium Records on Thee Facebooks

Ozium Records on Instagram

Ozium Records on Bandcamp

Ozium Records webstore

Sludgelord Records on Bandcamp

Sludgelord Records on Thee Facebooks

Sludgelord Records on Instagram

It’s Thanksgiving here in the US as I write this post. The early morning thereof, to be more specific. There’s one voice break in this episode of The Obelisk Show on Gimme Metal, and I cut it yesterday afternoon. I had just put The Pecan down for his afternoon nap and was in the process of getting dinner started (slow cooking) ahead of crashing out myself for about an hour.

The point of my telling you this? Maybe I wasn’t at my best.

Maybe I was a little harried, a little distracted, a little uh-oh-um. I did my best. I didn’t talk at all last time, so it seemed like a good idea at least to jump on and say thanks for listening and offer some setup for the second half of the show, which plays out in a succession of long, increasingly far-out cuts. But it’s not my best vocal work. Not gonna put it on my audition tape for KROQ.

Does KROQ still exist?

Anyway, I know it doesn’t matter, but still. Thank you for checking the show out if you do. For what it’s worth — plenty, to me — the playlist kicks ass.

If you tune in, I hope you enjoy. Thanks again.

The Obelisk Show airs 5PM Eastern today on the Gimme app or at http://gimmemetal.com

Full playlist:

The Obelisk Show – 11.27.20

Samsara Blues Experiment	End of Forever	End of Forever*
Onségen Ensemble	Stellar	Fear*
Sun Crow	Quest for Oblivion	Black it Out*
VT1
Lykantropi	Kom ta mig ut	Tales to Be Told*
Urtidsdjur	Vandringssång	Urtidsdjur*
Murcielago	Blues for the Red Lobster	Casualties*
Switchblade Jesus	Red Plains	Death Hymns*
DVNE	Omega Severer	Omega Severer*
Dark Buddha Rising	Sunyaga	Mathreyata*
Morpholith	Monocarp	Null Dimensions*
Tomorr	The 1001 Windows Village	Tomorr*
Phog	Hillside	Whole Horse Both Barrels*

The Obelisk Show on Gimme Metal airs every Friday 5PM Eastern, with replays Sunday at 7PM Eastern. Next new episode is Dec. 11 (subject to change). Thanks for listening if you do.

Gimme Metal website

The Obelisk on Thee Facebooks