It was seeing Abronia that got me out, straight up. Prison and Vague Plot, I didn’t know either of them — and this was Prison’s record release, so the lameness is on my end, to be sure — but I’ve been writing for nearly a decade about Abronia and going on about how unique their sound is in psych and heavy Americana and so on, and this was the first time they made it so far east from their home in Oregon. And as it was an afternoon show (4-7PM) with no cover to boot, the barriers to my seeing this band were as low as they were ever going to be, and even though it was Sunday and I’d gone out Friday and had a good time, the urgency was there to make the trip into town.

Plus, I had a ride. I’d been talking earlier in the week about how much I wanted to see the show and The Patient Mrs. hearing that and hearing as well the underlayer of how much I loathe driving to/in New York, offered transport. The Pecan came too. It was a hard get-out-of-the-house, but those will happen.

My first time at Mama Tried, and my first time seeing all three of these bands. That felt like an immediate win, and I was there early for the early start in the back yard area of Mama Tried. It was hot in the sun but I was okay at a table in the shade, and I watched Vague Plot’s soundcheck before the show itself started. I hadn’t heard them prior but for like 30 seconds which doesn’t count, but even from that I knew most of what they do is live and at least partially improvised, so I figured this would be the right context to be introduced anyhow. By the time 4PM hit, they were already jamming as a soundcheck with traffic up on whatever highway that was for a backing drone. Some more people came but there was a break before the actual start. I was antsy, for a change. My wife and daughter went to a park.

The outdoor stage was kind of a courtyard and pavilion, with a slanted, transparent roof over wood lattice, a couple sheets taped up to cut the light and heat on stage, I’d imagine, and a wood deck leading to the concrete wall of the next building behind whatever amps are stacked on the little ledge, I’d say precariously but it was fine. Tables and chairs were set up on a concrete patio, like a hang out spot, family joint, kind of a hideaway, which I enjoyed. I made myself say hi to Abronia, against my general inclination, and nobody told me to get it, so I’ll say that went well.

The show started soon enough, and man, was it awkward to take photos. Like, you’re the only one standing and also you’re me. I’ve had nightmares like that. I grabbed a couple shots like the middle-aged blog-having loser I am and sat the fuck down, feeling my age but enjoying Vague Plot, who reminded a bit of mid-aughts Elektrohasch-type jamming — sax put me in mind of Hypnos69 — prioritizing guitar and atmosphere but making it happen organically. Abidingly mellow, proggy and heavy born more of the bass and drums than the guitar tone, which was adding the dubby float to the plotted-seeking procession. They busted a kick pedal but had another in seconds and there was no stop in momentum from there. They looked like they could go for hours. Sirens went by.

At one point I looked up amd bees were dancing with flowers, which seemed like an endorsement, but things got more Floydian, even as Vague Plot built around that core groove, keys taking over where sax left, or the guitar turning down-home sweet and classy. They seemed like a band who probably like different kinds of music from each other but who apparently agree on enough to function as a band. I dug it and wondered what their studio stuff could sound like.

Quick changeover clearing the stage and then Abronia and their very large drum — aptly called Big Drum, steered by Robert Grubaugh — got going. Fronted by Keelin Mayer, who handles sax (and flute, though that didn’t make an appearance) in addition to singing, with James Shaver and Eric Crespo on guitar (the latter also backing vocals), Rick Pedrosa on pedal steel, Danny Metcalfe on bass and Grubaugh behind thumping away, they were a curious proposition in a setting with so much concrete, but I’d waieted a long time to see them and I was super-glad they made the trip. Brooklyn was fourth on the tour behind Columbus, Pittsburgh and Baltimore, the band supprting their 2026 album, Shapes Unravel (review here), and I marvel at the logistics involved in getting six humans to do anything, let alone journey to the other side of the continent together and play a killer set, so yeah.

Granted, I would have earlier if given the opportunity, but watching them play, the way their sound conjures expanse, I wasn’t sorry to be seeing them now for the first time. The new-album stuff was fresh in my head, and they hit it, some heavy prairie vibes and Mayer’s command topping it all. With sax in and out, a thread continued from Vague Plot, but Abronia brought their own kind of tension, nighttime, outdoors, more wolves than traffic, but the setting made it all the more of a trip, and the depth that their albums have always carried came through and the sense of dynamic, intermittently volatile, was even more palpable while the Big Drum held the groove. They get called psychedelic, by me too, but I’m not sure they’re that so much as they are spacious and explorational. I’m really, really glad I had the chance to see them. I hope it won’t be their last trip east.

Prison played last, honoring as noted their new record, Big Rigs on the BQE. Paul Major of Endless Boogie in the lineup, my understanding was their lineup varies by show, but they played as a six-piece, which hardly made it seem like anybody could be missing. The listed stop time for the show came and went before they were underway, but it was their party and I think it was an imaginary curfew, not that any aren’t. Two guitars, bass, drums, plus hand percussion and keys, they were into the jam almost before the set even started, and I don’t know if they were making it up on the spot or not, but the vibe was locked in and the vibe was there. Some added effects, pedals manned offstage, effects swirling this way and that, sometimes jazzy but always rooted in rock. I’d believe it if you told me they made it all up on the spot. It had that could-go-anywhere feel, no less the second time the bowl-of-shells shaker came out, and the effects manipulation of the vocals was another level of freaked out. Persistently weird, and enjoyable for that as well.

The drums took a breather at maybe the halfway point but they were all back at it soon enough, a little more cosmic but maybe it’s all groove either way. Some more uptempo moments in the reaches and at any moment it was all about a hair from derailing, but Prison kept it together with a due sense of fuckery and I left hoping it wouldn’t be the only time I ran into them. I had wondered if the crowd in front would stand for the last band, but people stayed seated, which meant I didn’t realize how sweaty I’d gotten until I moved again to head out. The Patient Mrs. picked my sweaty ass up and carted it and the rest of us home. Would I have made it there on my own? Probably, but I sat in the back seat while tired The Pecan snuggled into the side of my left arm and that was just fine too.

—

It was super-weird taking photos. Very weird. I didn’t want to get in the front and stand because I would’ve been in the way, even for just a minute, and the crowd was mellow but everybody had their phone out and I try not to be the asshole screwing up everybody’s video so I can get my shot, like it’s so frigging important me and my bigboy camera. Screw that. I got what I could from the sides and a little ways back. When Keelin Mayer came down from the stage, it made my night. Shades of Sean Clamfight on Friday in Jersey. She also went for it.

Thanks for reading. Go see Abronia if you can, East Coasters. Tour dates are here.

More rain, or at least mist, but it’s Spring and somehow it’s reassuring that water still falls from the sky without seering your flesh when it touches you, so whatever. My back by the end of the night before had been movement-preventative, which I’ll just say was not encouraging on multiple levels, and I did not manage to get the Doan’s I’d hoped to. I bought a new vape though, and realized in the process that somewhere in the previous 48 hours, I had lost my debit card.

So it had been a mixed-bag morning, I guess. I saw my family, briefly, and that was a positive. They were going to the movies early and I think crashing out the rest of the day, or at least that’s what the weather warranted. The Patient Mrs. was very purposefully giving me space this weekend to do this. It was and is appreciated.

There was a late change to the evening’s schedule. Here’s what Kaleb Riser from Black Moon Cult posted:

SUN May 24
COSMIC STAGE – Brooklyn Monarch
11:25 Pentagram 60min+
10:00 Eyehategod 60min
8:30 Legions of Doom 60min+
7:05 The Obsessed 60min
5:45 Sacri Monti 60min
4:45 Dave Hill

SONIC STAGE – The Woodshop
45min sets
12:10 Mick’s Jaguar
11:10 Magick Potion
10:15 Carousel
9:40 Sphaèros Possession
8:40 Ike’s Wasted World
7:30 Black Moon Cult
6:30 Cats Eye
5:30 Sabbath Warlock

It would be a different kind of night than the one prior, with not none but less of the rush from one spot to the other. The change was that the night was at The Monarch and The Woodshop, instead of The Meadows and The Woodshop. The Monarch is a bigger space, and the lineup booked for it made that make sense. In the meantime, the Carousel reunion and Magick Potion were probably how my night was going to end given how I was feeling, and neither was a thing to complain about.

I was stoked that, like night one, there were a few bands that I’d never seen before, and that started with Spit Shine, who weren’t on that schedule but I think were originally going to play outside in the courtyard between Monarch and Woodshop, but for the weather. Very classic heavy rock, like ’70s but not necessarily boogie, as interchangeable as those two ideas have become. USDA beefier in tone and more of a roll-groove than a shuffle, though some of that too, they pulled an early crowd that was already more peopled than the day before had been, and so it would go. They covered Robert Trower and that was a lot of fun early in the day. Their singer was at the merch table even before the rest of the band was done playing. Working.

I was able to catch the start of Sabbath Warlock, whose doom rocking cult vibe was a turn, aesthetic-wise, from Spit Shine, despite the continuity of leather. I had Sacri Monti on the schedule next, so made my way toward the big stage for that; through the corridor, as it were. Turned out I was early, but there were friends in the room and I didn’t die. It was after 6PM when they went on, and the classic warmth of their prog-heavy rock, organ and all, would’ve been welcome anytime. Underrated for the soul, for sure, but I mean, those cats can play. I knew I wouldn’t be seeing all of it, so I took a few minutes to enjoy and watch, just to kind of put myself in the moment with that groove, and I didn’t regret that.

They were a similar joy last summer at Freak Valley (review here) with the songs from 2024’s Retrieval (review here) landing particularly hard, and with a bit of magic too them. They’ve toured enough that the chemistry shouldn’t be a surprise, but they know, each of them, where the other is at every point in every song while also being individually dug-in to playing, and I guess the professionalism underlying that hit me.

I had wanted to see Cat’s Eye, but stuck it out as long as I could. I’d ultimately spend more time in The Woodshop, but that was just how the night went. Fucking Eyehategod were gonna play. There was a kind of tension in the room, or at least in me. Some Dozer came on, and then the band went on too, and that was good. As I understood it, Cats Eye is made in part of former members of Carousel who were not participating in the reunion later that night — part of me feels like I should be able to keep track of these things by now, but shit, it’s hard — and so I was curious to see what they would sound like. Unsurprisingly, there was a lot of classic riffing in there, and it was super-nice to see Jake Leger (ex-Bang, among others) on drums, and I dug it that Gero von Dehn’s vocal lent a grunge edge, which was cool and distinctive. Ron looked pleased. You know Ron.

My timing for getting to the front of the stage for The Obsessed worked, which was a nice first. Scott “Wino” Weinrich and Jason Taylor on guitar and Chris Angleberger on bass, Bob Pantella, who had destroyed the night before with The Atomic Bitchwax, locking in a much different, less frenetic groove for the most part — not that The Obsessed don’t have their motor riffs — to suit Angleberger’s bass punching through, Taylor and Wino holding down the utmost of doom rock riffing. They also came through Jersey last year, and, well, they probably didn’t need to do that as a career choice, so it was appreciated.

Black Moon Cult were my must for the day, and I hope when you look at the lineup that tells you something. It was my first time seeing the Ohio heavy psych rockers fronted by the slick guitar and vocals of Kaleb Riser, and yeah, I’ll bite on the cliché that it probably won’t be the last, because, uh, it most likely won’t. Their 2025 album, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) (review here) was a favorite from last year, and the songs were recognizable live, which especially in this case was great. “Stoned Ape” was a hit, and closing with “At the Realms of Madness,” that chug, was the right call. I could see and hear quickly why I’ve heard so many excellent things about Black Moon Cult live, and they were all justified. I watched the whole set. Only my second full set of the weekend at that point. And they might’ve been band of the weekend.

So yeah, if I have anything to say about it, I’ll see them again. Potential out the wazoo.

I was indeed able to get over to The Monarch to get up front door Legions of Doom, whom I saw earlier this Spring as The Skull with Acid Bath (review here). Okay, so I’m not sure where one band ends and the other starts these days, but I think that’s something that gets hashed out over time, and Legions of Doom — with Karl Agell having maybe the best time on vocals — where a doomly follow-up to The Obsessed, sort of a supergroup but really just a band with a pedigree. They’d be the last ones I’d try to take pictures of in The Monarch (did I see Monster Magnet here? no.), but there was still plenty of night left when I watched Legions of Doom’s full set. They do really well on a big stage.

Legions of Doom played a Desertfest New York pre-party in 2024 (review here) and that night they opened with C.O.C.’s “Dance of the Dead,” and had Scott Reagers swapping in on vocals. This was much more of a working-band, been-on-the-road-a-few-nights kind of show. The Skull’s “For Those Which Are Asleep” and “Send Judas Down” and Holzner shouted out the memory of Dave Sweetapple of Tee Pee Records, not to mention several of its bands, and it was clear he wasn’t the only one remembering him, and of course that’s sad in a way, but nice too. Then they went back to dooming the fark out. They seemed set to end again with “Psychotic Reaction” (Trouble), and set about making it their own, but asked if they had time for one more, Agell dedicated it to Reed Mullin and they finished with “Dance of the Dead.” I didn’t run up front, but for sure made my way with some urgency once I realized what was coming.

I hadn’t yet had my dose of dark-acid ritualizing, and Sphaèros Possession had played night one and the pre-show as well. Sphaèros came out of French heavy psych weirdos Aqua Nebula Oscillator, but this was a different kind of trip, with emphasis on the ceremony that brought dancers out of the crowd, and while there were a only couple drums handled by someone in what looked to be a cloak of elvish make, it was enough to go with all that cosmic swirl. Next door, Eyehategod were about to Eyehategod the big room to pieces, and I decided to take the short walk over and get a bit of that in my brain. No regrets. It was just a few minutes, but it had been a couple years and they’re Eyehategod, so, you know, show up. Sludge would probably exist without them, but it wouldn’t be nearly as disaffected. They remain more punk than punk.

It was a headliner set for Eyehategod even with Pentagram on the bill after, and that was cool, but I’d been waiting all day for Carousel and was stoked to see Dave Wheeler back at it with Justin Sherrell (Somnuri; I forgot he was in this band for a while), founding bassist Jim Wilson and guitarist Jason Sichi [thanks Gero –ed.] from Wheeler’s other band, Limousine Beach. They took all of 30 seconds to remind me why I was so excited to see them play. Wheeler noted it was their first show in 10 years, and I noted before they went on that the setlist had a song called “New Jam” on it. Cool to think they might really get back at it. I’m all for the reunion. They sounded great. Bluesy, heavy, with Wheeler’s vocals on point for the classic style. They called it a day in 2016. I hope this isn’t the last show they do for a decade.

It was coming on 11PM, and I was pleased to feel like I was in better condition than I had been the evening before. I got to talk to a lot of people — I even signed one dude’s jacket and he had had Tim Bugbee sign the other side; talk about company I’m not worthy to keep. Eyehategod had finished, but I was in The Woodshop anyhow, Wheeler pointing out before they played “2113” that two of the members who played on it were here with Cats Eye earlier in the day. I’m assuming one of them is guitarist John Dziuban? In any case, Carousel coming back felt like probably as much as it could for a band from Pittsburgh playing NYC, and I was glad to see them again after so long. I had some good times watching them play and was glad to add another one to that list.

Magick Potion were my end to the night. I knew better than to try to get up front to shoot Pentagram, but that stage was running basically on time, so I did get to watch a bit of it; Tony Reed forever, man. And Henry Vasquez drumming. Some day I’ll tell you about my non-toxic/subservient lyrical headcannon rewrite of “Forever My Queen.” Don’t hold your breath.

I was ready to go when Carousel were done, existentially and otherwise, but I wanted to see Magick Potion. The Baltimorean boogie outfit — how many times this weekend have I used the word boogie? so many — like The Obsessed, and in the company of Electric Citizen, played my hometown last year, and again, forever-points. I could stick around for a little longer to see them.

Knowing on some level what was coming was not a detriment to the experience of seeing them again. Carousel had laid waste, so Magick Potion had a bit of a rebuild, and even with the holiday Monday, the crowd had begun to thin out. Fair enough. Not that I wasn’t feeling it too. But a bit of Magick Potion’s softshoe was a salve. You could hear Pentagram through the open door between songs, but once they were playing it didn’t matter. Once the music started, everything was fine. They easily made it worth it to have stuck around, and their chops-heavy take was as sweet a finale as I could’ve hoped for.

Way there was Solace and The Claypool Lennon Delirium. Way home was Ealdor Bealu and Buzzard.

Thanks for reading. Thanks to Kenny and all at Tee Pee Records. Thanks to everybody who said hi and/or hung out. Thanks to Andy Goldstein and Erik Larson. Thanks to The Patient Mrs. for the weekend time.

Real quick before you go if you’re still here. You may have noticed I used photo captions on these two reviews. I’ve never done that before and if you have a second to let me know in the comments if that’s cool for you or you don’t care or it looks stupid, really any and all opinions valid. I don’t think I’d do it for every review, but something like this where the subject and image aren’t broken up each into their own section, it sort of made sense to me. I’d very much appreciate any feedback you have.

This post is it for today. Maybe also for tomorrow, we’ll see.

You know how it gets. The whole morning and early afternoon, the voice in my head telling me not to do the thing, to stay home, the weather sucks, driving in NY is expensive, depressing and tedious, the couch and the dog and Twilight Princess are here, so who ever wanted to do a weekend of commuter-fest? There was no logical case to be made against this. I just had to tell that frankly much more reasonable portion of my brain to can it and get myself out of the house. I wouldn’t say it was easy. Shut up, it’s fine, shut up. It’ll be fine.

This was the schedule of the night:

COSMIC STAGE – The Meadows
11:15 Dead Meadow 60min
10:05 Al-Qasar 45min
8:40 The Atomic Bitchwax 60min
7:30 Electric Citizen 50min
6:30 Mirror Queen 45min
5:30 Worshipper 45min
4:30 Alreckque 45min

SONIC STAGE – The Woodshop
45min sets except where noted, 15-20min changeovers
11:30 Sphaèros Possession
10:30 Satan’s Satyrs
9:20 Sun Voyager
8:10 Casket Rats
7:05 The Golden Grass
6:15 Dead Hits (30min set)
5:10 River Cult

No way I was going to see all of it, right? Unreasonable expectations. But with some back and forth, it would be mostly doable. The drive was every bit as pleasant as pre-departure anxiety made it out to be, but I still had some time to sit in the car with the window open (raining) and vape like a douchebag to try and calm my nerves. I was about two blocks from the venues and walked over in the rain, good and stoned and wet walking into The Meadows for Alreckque.

Familiar faces, the three of them being veterans of the Boston underground, Jim Healey on vocals and guitar, Aaron Gray on bass and backing and some lead vocals, and Rob Davol on drums. Melody and crunch were kind of what you’d expect from them, but the configuration was new to me live and it was cool to see those guys doing the thing. Obviously they’ve written more songs since they did that demo in 2024 (review here).

I popped down to the Wood Shop for River Cult, who for sure are a band I need to see again, and I say that having seen not all that much since they hit it a couple minutes late and Worshipper were about to go on at The Meadows. This was kind of going to be the story of the night, and fair enough. The back and forth probably wouldn’t kill me, but I wanted to see a lot of the bands playing the show, so that’s what I did. River Cult were still on when I got back to The Wood Shop, so I got to see at least the start and finish. Take what I can get.

It was back to Wood Shop ahead of Dead Hits, with exes from Naam and La Otracina, among others. My first time seeing them too, and though there was some nasty feedback of the unintentional kind at the start, once the set actually began, it was all kind of a haze, and that very much was intentional. Boogie, howl and scorch, none of which was a surprise given their makeup, but the psychblast element was most certainly appreciated. I couldn’t stay, since Mirror Queen were about to hit it next door, but I’d never seen them before, so I decided I’d be back. Again, that’s the night. I’m not saying stop reading now, but please know you’re never obligated at any point to continue.

The bummer of it, honestly, is that I’m not a very good photographer. I’ve been doing it for 15 years, and I’ve had some good ones along the way, but I’ve frankly never had the commitment to it as a creative endeavor to make it anything more than something I do to go along with the writing. I wish I had a great passion for it but I don’t. I just didn’t have a better solution than doing it myself.

But even going back and forth to shoot this or band, the proximity shouldn’t be left out of the conversation. It’s The Meadows, and then the next door down is The Wood Shop. So easy enough, for which I was grateful. Night two at The Meadows and The Monarch would be the same. I think The Monarch is the door after that. Maybe that’s where the hardcore fest was.

No, not even close to my first time seeing Mirror Queen, but their mellowrockpsychprog always goes down smooth and they did a new song called “City Skies” that Kenny — whose shindig this whole thing is — said had never before been played by humans. Duh, it was mellowrockpsychproggy. Then they hit into the thrashy “Rider on the Rain” and I knew Dead Hits were done anyway so I had a couple minutes before I needed to be over there for The Golden Grass.

It had been a while. New bassist. Don Berger. You’ll never guess where I looked that up. By a while I meant years and years, and I already knew it would be a sampling, but again, you go with it. It was a fomo kind of night, and of course as it went on it would be harder to get up front. I needed to rethink the strategy.

Hard choices. The Golden Grass are always great, but they had technical trouble before getting started, so it was a delay. I decided I’d settle in at The Meadows for Electric Citizen and most of The Atomic Bitchwax until Sun Voyager went on. I knew Al-Qasar and Satan’s Satyrs would be more back and forth later, but some things can’t be helped.

Electric Citizen played my town last summer, so aside from the forever-points thereby earned as regards general appreciation, they were relatively fresh in mind, but even so, they had a different keyboardist out with them, so that was a change. Also there was a disco ball and a dude dancing in the back. They killed, in other words. And golly, that last record smoked. They were the only full set I saw all night, and no, not just because they came to Parsippany frickin’ New Jersey. But like I said, forever-points anyhow.

Those points could be yours. Come to Jersey. (Please note points hold no cash or other value.)

In all seriousness, I was glad to see them pull the crowd they did, and extra glad I was part of it. They make a mean five-piece. Laura Dolan made an impassioned testimony between songs about having played an early gig with Dead Meadow and how it opened doors for them and it meant something to be playing with them again, kind of celebrating the scene as it were, where the bands know each other and the fans know the bands and a lot of the time the bands know the fans too. It’s a weird era in heavy rock as it is in everything else, but you can’t really look around underground heavy music at this point and say it’s lacking either quality or quantity. 10 years ago this show might’ve happened — Tee Pee did a Cosmic Sonic Rendezvous in 2015; I lived in Massachusetts at that point or I might’ve gone — but not 20. It was SHoD and Emissions and a few in Europe. That growth is a thing worth honoring, all the more because I think the genre has grown and changed as well, even in its most willfully traditional niches.

Electric Citizen occupy one of those, as there’s always been plenty of ’70s in their sound, but they’re a perfect example of a band who’ve progressed over their decade-plus, who have pushed themselves to try new things. And you could certainly say The Atomic Bitchwax have changed over their 27 years, though they’re arguably faster and fiercer in recent years than they’ve ever been, so I guess that tells you something. Plus every now and then they break out something midtempo that seems slow by comparison. It’d be the regular set and I would see most not all of it, but that is the order of things, as the Jem’Hadar are wont to say.

Forever on a tear, The Bitchwax smoked the room nicely as they will, and a slew of classics and recent burners were aired, same set they’ve been doing the last few years, but shit, it ain’t broke. Homeboy in the back was dancing again, which is the kind of thing you can see when you stay in a room for more than 10 minutes of a set. Tomorrow I’ll do differently. But the TAB, with Bob Pantella bashing away in back like he’s actually annoyed at the drums, Chris Kosnik and Garrett Sweeny all smiles up front, it’s a good show to see and a tough one to walk out of to catch the start of Sun Voyager, over at The Wood Shop. They premiered their latest single “Running Hot” here and I wanted to catch it in-person. They line checked with it, so I didn’t wait long.

Bassist Stefan Mersch caught some flack for the poncho, good-natured, of course, and not from me. I’m bad enough at regular human conversation that I feel like throwing around playful gibes isn’t what I need to be spending my time doing. I’d just end up talking shit and not meaning to. But they are not a band I take for granted seeing, and they’ve come through a lot the last few years to sound so righteous as they did. I had time before Al-Qasar went on to check out a goodly portion of the set. More because Sun Voyager basically went on on time.

The guitar of Christian Lopez (also Heavy Temple) was loud enough that up front your earplugs were little more than a cute accessory. When I lay down to go to bed tonight and I’m still hearing those solo notes from “Running in Circles” repeating themselves via tinnitus, I won’t be surprised. “God is Dead” had that same dude dancing. David and Danielle there, their buddy Craig who’s super-nice, Bill Kerls, a bunch of other people you meet and know in this thing. Sacri Monti rolled in amd were hanging out; I got to say hi to Anthony Meier, which is always nice, and even slow-burning Sun Voyager is still on fire, so the room was in. I don’t think the lights changed at all from the start of the set. Doesn’t matter. The band were hypnotic in that cool light and they remain a blast to see. I’m glad they’ve stuck it out and come so far the last couple years. Lopez, Mersch, drummer Kyle Beach. I can’t think of another band on the Eastern Seaboard who revels in the psych-gnarly like they do or with nearly as much joy.

Al-Qasar were soon on at The Meadow, so it was back out into the (now lighter) rain for all of 10 seconds to go from one venue to the other. I think they were kind of a mystery for most people but the Middle Eastern-vibing psych outfit feature Thomas Bellier, formerly of Blaak Heat Shujaa, so there’s the Tee Pee connection. I remember that band fondly and got to see them live despite their being from France, and thought they were way more interesting than they got ever credit for. That same drive toward the individual is in Al-Qasar, even if most of the rest has changed.

They would probably be the only band of the weekend to lead the crowd in a chant of “from the river to the sea Palestine will be free,” admirable as that is. And that’s hardly all stood out about them, what with Bellier on the oud and their vocalist running two mics through a processor, slap bass and Arab-influenced rhythms. You could dance to it, say, if you’d been dancing all night, but for sure too, Satan’s Satyrs were about to rip shit at The Wood Shop, so I did my last bit of back and forth ahead of closing the night with Dead Meadow, and I’ll just say that Clayton Burgess’ band certainly wasn’t any less charged for having Erik Larson (so many bands) on drums. I hope to see Thunderchief, in which he also plays, later this summer, as I did last summer on CT, whereas the last time I saw Satan’s Satyrs was next door at a Desertfest NY pre-show and they had Sean Saley of Pentagram, etc. drumming. Funny how these things go sometimes.

I decided while they were playing that the next morning, in addition to sorting photos and all the rest, I’d pick up some Doan’s for my back — which come to think of it, I started taking after a recommendation from Larson however many years ago — and maybe one of those gross sticky things that are always so cold but also work. My back hurt, is the underlying message. Satan’s Satyrs’ power boogie would surely have had me up for a two-step otherwise; they are an absolute shove, and even when they’re not going full-speed, you know it’s only a matter of time before the next round starts. They had glee at the racket they made in common with Sun Voyager.

My night capped back at The Meadows for Dead Meadow. By then, I guess the hardcore fest was done because people were lining up like for a dance club, which is to say better dressed than either the hardcore crowd or this one. Nobody’s wearing camo shorts on line for the cluuub.

I had told myself I wouldn’t sit on the stage, but I did anyhow. Come on, I made it to the last band, and I was dragging. But where Satan’s Satyrs were running laps around the universe, Dead Meadow’s signature roll is of a calmer spirit, and that warmth and nod felt like a good way to end it for me. A fuzz to give comfort. There was still the commute home and back for night two to consider, whether I wanted to be considering them or not. Hazards of commuter-fest. Glad I was there at all, even long past the point of being able to hang with it as I was.

Ride in was Genghis Tron, Nine Inch Noize, Elder and Floor. Ride home was the Genghis Tron again. I had that shirt on too.

More to come.

Barring some disaster or marital ultimatum, I’ll be at Tee Pee Records‘ Cosmic Sonic Rendezvous in a couple weeks, and to be honest, part of posting the day splits here is so I have them, but one way or the other, dang that’s a good lineup. And Tee Pee, as both a label and the organizing principal behind the two-dayer (plus pre-show), didn’t even have to stray too far from its own roster to make it happen.

Each of the two days offers something different, and thinking about it as commuterfest, which is how I’d be doing it, is daunting, but I’ve done more for way less, so yeah. I’m curious to see how the schedule plays out and how brutal some of these overlaps are — that Saturday could very easily become a day filled with tears — but it looks like a lot of fun and I can’t wait to see how it all plays out. That’s the insight on this one. Go to a show.

From the PR wire:

COSMIC SONIC RENDEZVOUS from Legendary Label TEE PEE RECORDS Announce Day Splits and New Additions

Tee Pee Records and United Sounds NYC bring a two-day celebration of heavy rock and psychedelia to Brooklyn this May featuring a stacked lineup of underground icons and rising stars…

Get tickets here: https://kydlabs.com/e/EV82ea84e2-bf13-4440-8e36-6c724e58e041

More info at cosmicsonicfest.com

Brooklyn, New York – May 23rd–24th, 2026 – Tee Pee Records and United Sounds NYC proudly present Cosmic Sonic Rendezvous, a thunderous new festival set to ignite an industrial block in Brooklyn for one unforgettable weekend this May.

Celebrating the raw power and transcendence of guitar-driven music, Cosmic Sonic Rendezvous brings together a stacked lineup spanning heavy rock, doom, and psychedelia, uniting underground legends and rising acts for an immersive sonic experience.

Presented by Tee Pee Records – a label renowned for its one-of-a-kind boutique vinyl – the festival reflects decades of dedication to heavy and psychedelic music culture. From the dark, menacing riffs of Pentagram, Eyehategod, and Legions of Doom to the expansive, sky-gazing grooves of Dead Meadow, Electric Citizen, and Al-Qasar, the festival promises two days of rock and roll in its purest, loudest forms.

The festival is also thrilled to welcome Sphaèros Possession (Paris) and Spit Shine (Philadelphia) to the lineup. Recent additions include Electric Citizen (Cincinnati), Freedom Hawk (Richmond, VA), and Sabbath Warlock (NYC).

A pre-festival show will take place on Friday, May 22nd (7:00–10:00 PM) at Sleepwalk. Entry is $10, or free with a weekend pass. Space is extremely limited, and Sphaèros Possession will perform an intimate set, with an opener to be announced.

Be sure to check out the striking poster design by acclaimed artist Michael Fulcher.

SATURDAY

COSMIC STAGE:

Dead Meadow
Al-Qasar
The Atomic Bitchwax
Electric Citizen
Mirror Queen
Worshipper
Alreckque

SONIC STAGE:

Freedom Hawk
Satan’s Satyrs
Sun Voyager
Casket Rats
The Golden Grass
Dead Hits
River Cult

SUNDAY

COSMIC STAGE:

Pentagram
Eyehategod
Legions of Doom
The Obsessed
Sacri Monti

SONIC STAGE:

Sphaéros Possession
Carousel
Black Moon Cult
Magick Potion
Ike’s Wasted World
Sabbath Warlock
Spit Shine

BEER GARDEN:

Mick’s Jaguar
Cat’s Eye
Dave Hill

Shows will take place across three Brooklyn venues – The Brooklyn Monarch, The Meadows, and The Woodshop – transforming the neighbourhood into a hub of fuzz-drenched riffs, hypnotic rhythms, and communal energy.

Early-bird weekend passes and day passes are available now. Grab your tickets here: https://kydlabs.com/e/EV82ea84e2-bf13-4440-8e36-6c724e58e041

teepeerecords.com
https://teepeerecords.bandcamp.com/
https://www.instagram.com/teepeerecords
https://www.facebook.com/teepeerecords/

Sphaèros, Possession (2020/2023)

Feel like we’re really getting into it now, and that’s a good thing. I’m not saying I was shaking off rust for the first two days, but I look at the spread of styles across the names above and ‘it’s gonna be a good day’ pops inexorably into my head. I like that feeling, which I guess is how we get here in the first place.

It’s Wednesday of this seven-day QR, so we’re not quite halfway through yet. If you’ve been keeping up, thank you. If not, it’s okay. You’re still welcome to peruse the below and hopefully find something that speaks to you.

Quarterly Review #21-30:

Clayton Burgess, If You Lived Here, You’d Be Home by Now

Self-recorded and just as raw as the day is long, the first solo album from Clayton Burgess (Satan’s Satyrs founder, also ex-Electric Wizard), If You Lived Here, You’d Be Home by Now, is so classic in its substance it can’t help be modern. And I’m not talking about the pop garage indie of the 2000s, like it sounds cheap but also everybody has perfect hair. Songs like “Kerosene” and the Mellotron-laced “Meadowlands” are more in the Rise Above Records mindset of retroism, which is to say doing the thing for real and letting the genres sort themselves out later. Thus the proto-punk of “Little Bat Dreams” and the strut of “Scenic Byway” coexist with the jazzy “Faustine,” and so on. “Signal Fire” and the closer “Golden Age of Volcanism” are a bit darker, maybe a little closer to Burgess‘ work with Satan’s Satyrs, while “Greasy Bangs” lives up to its name for all of its 90 seconds, a heavy garage instrumental of the ’60s tradition. What’s amazing about it is the whole style is based around familiarity and yet the indentity built up throughout is so individual. I haven’t seen a lot of hype about it, but here’s hoping Burgess continues this pursuit.

Clayton Burgess on Bandcamp

Satan’s Satyrs on Bandcamp

—

New Mexican Doom Cult, Ziggurat

There have been some personnel shifts in Swedish stoner-doomnodders New Mexican Doom Cult, and their second full-length, Ziggurat, operates mostly in the same volume-worshipping vein of riffing as 2023’s Necropolis (review here), but with a deeper perspective in “Metatron” and the pointedly doomed “Return to Babylon,” among others. The band now is Nils Ahnland on guitar and vocals (also bass), drummer Jonathan Ekvall and Jonas Strömberg on keys/production, and though they’ve given up some tonal impact as a result of dropping to a single guitar (layering notwithstanding; looking at you, “Criosphinx”), the tradeoff is they’re more flexible in sound while remaining plenty heavy from “The Church of Starry Wisdom” onward. Sabbathian roll is a specialty of the house, but the satisfaction when “Sungod” finally kicks in at full volume speaks to a different kind of mastery before the doom-hook in “I Stand Alone” rounds out. Curious where they’ll go from here.

New Mexican Doom Cult on Bandcamp

New Mexican Doom Cult on Instagram

—

Lammping/Drew Smith/Marker Starling, Risky

Following on from 2025’s Never Never (review here), Toronto mellow-hangs specialists Lammping continue their four-album cycle of collaborations with this second one, bringing them together with Drew Smith (The Bicycles) and Chris Cummings (Marker Starling), as core Lammping duo Mikhail Galkin (vocals, production, guitar, etc.) and Jay Anderson (drums) slide so smoothly into and out of dub instrumentals and low-key heavy vibes, always fluid, here hinting toward jazz, there shimmering into the techno experiment “Prelude to Never” ahead of the finale “Never Done,” which closes like psychedelic singer-songwriter fare from some lost decade that was never actually real. I guess the update is Lammping remain on their on wavelength of sound and on their own echelon of cool. Spending some time there with them could only be to your greater benefit. Two more LPs coming.

Lammping on Bandcamp

We Are Busy Bodies on Bandcamp

—

Mos Eisley Spaceport, Live on Crow Hill

Most of the material on Mos Eisley Spaceport‘s apparently-self-released live album, Live on Crow Hill, comes from their 2023 debut, Further, but with newer two songs at the end in the 12-minute “Interstellar Mantis” and “In Your Mind,” the jam-based classic heavy blues boogie rockers give a glimpse at where they’re headed just the same. And that’s not to take away from “Space Shift” — which starts with the Star Wars sample from whence their moniker hails — or the scope in “Ashes to Ashes” made organic by the fluidity of the band’s performance, I’m just noting the progression underway in their sound. Whether brand new or not, they deliver, and the fact that they’ve added organ to the arrangements in the time since the record came out means these interpretations stand on their own regardless. Most of all, the set is a blast and sounds like they’re having as much fun playing as I am listening, which is plenty. It would feel silly to ask more of it than that, whatever it might portend for them moving forward.

Mos Eisley Spaceport on Bandcamp

Mos Eisley Spaceport on Instagram

—

Dome Runner, World Panopticon

How lucky you are that after 40-plus years of industrial sounds depicting dystopian apocalyptic scenarios you finally get to live in one. Dome Runner are the machine punishment humanity deserves in an era where a tech CEO can casually say something about flying drones into people’s heads to kill them and/or licensing common knowledge on a subscription model and not be immediately imprisoned or extrajudicially hanged to the benefit of all. World Panopticon is suitably brutal across a 76-minute span, the Tampere, Finland, troupe keeping one foot in ’90s industrial metal as they did on their 2021 debut, Conflict State Design (review here), but filtering this through modern tonality and horrors. There are breaks, quiet parts in longer songs, interludes, etc., but I don’t know that I’d call any of it a real letup in the looming sense of oppression, and well, get used to that, because the boot on your neck that they’re portraying isn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Welcome to the age of it-gets-worse-and-nobody-stops-it. At least you still have the music, for now.

Dome Runner on Bandcamp

Svart Records website

—

Basaltic Plateau, Dead Dinosaurs Echoes

While clearly written as individual pieces, the six songs comprising the 36-minute run of Italian heavy psych instrumentalists Basaltic Plateau‘s late-’25 debut LP, Dead Dinosaurs Echoes flow exceedingly well into each other, extrapolating the ebbs and flows within a given track into how it interacts with those around it. In this way, the three-piece build a landscape of sound — some kind of sound… scape! — across the span, warm-toned and so easy enough to liken to a desert rock influence, but heavier in its payoff stretches and up for trippier weirdness in “Summer Dream” and the more technical severity of the closing title-cut, also the longest at nearly nine minutes, and less predictable in its entirety than one might expect going in. As a debut, their self-awareness bodes well, and the psych of “Cuttlefish Galaxy” and progressivism of “Sleep Paralysis” might be careening toward each other like the Milky Way and Andromeda, but if there’s to be a conflict between the two, it’s a ways off. In the meantime, their creative reach serves them in immersing the listener.

Basaltic Plateau on Bandcamp

Electric Valley Records website

—

Gjenferd, Black Smoke Rising

Should you find yourself needing a reason to feel hopeful about the future of heavy rock, that Gjenferd might be part of it should more than suffice. The Bergen, Norway, four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Vegard Bachmann Strand, bassist Samuel Robson Gardner, keyboardist/vocalist Jakob Særvoll and drummer/vocalist Sivert Kleiven Larsen present their second album in Black Smoke Rising, and draw a thread back through decades of heavy rock stylization to conjure a sound that is their own and welcoming, unpretentious and progressive in kind. Whether it’s the shuffle of “Bound to Fall” and the hook of “Ride On” or the moodier nod of “Calling Your Name” and the mellow-till-it-ain’t “The Silence,” the band are dynamic, thoughtful in their craft and vital very much in the ‘alive’ sense of the word across the 10 inclusions, further distinguishing themselves among the emergent next generation of heavy rock and rollers. The listenability here can’t and shouldn’t be discounted, which is to say, don’t be surprised when you come back for another round with it.

Gjenferd’s Linktr.ee

Apollon Records website

—

Codex Serafini, Mother, Give Your Children Sanity

I feel like it may forever be my fate to feel like I’m trying to catch up to Codex Serafini. Yes, temporally — their second LP, Mother, Give Your Children Sanity, came out last November — but also stylistically, and in this I feel a oneness with the universe, for which the UK outfit are an intentionally odd fit. Spacerocking in their own dimensional phase, the band follow 2023’s The Imprecation of Anima (review here) with a status-quo threatening cohesion that lands heavy with Wayne Adams‘ production but is more about the plunge into the farther far-out, sax and skronk and ritualistic melodies and madness. The title-track brings healing, but not like you’re thinking, whatever you’re thinking, and the subsequent blowout in capper “Marching Like a Toad” (before the drone finish) could hardly be better earned. Bands rarely sound so willing to follow where their whims take them, and the quirk in Mother, Give Your Children Sanity is more appreciable for that.

Codex Serafini on Bandcamp

Riot Season Records website

—

Sunbreather, Sunbreather

Airy grunge pervades the self-titled 2025 full-length debut from UK trio Sunbreather, resulting in a tonal richness one can hear in the eponymous “Sunbreather” or the prior “Apricity” as the record gets going, creating a kind of terrestrial psychedelia that vocal effects and an upped fuzz quotient in all-caps centerpiece/side B leadoff “WINE” seems to revel in pushing to one side or another. I like this album a lot; the way it feels like it’s establishing one aspect of the band’s sound or another and then moves on to the next idea without losing itself in indulgence. The organic flow. The closing pair of “Sleep” and “Aubade” emphasize this, with a fuller lumber in “Sleep” that opens atmospherically in “Aubade” while staying dreamy in tempo at least for most of its time. I say all the time that the challenge for UK bands is distinguishing themselves from the constant glut of their home country’s underground. That might be true here as well, on its face, but in actually hearing the songs, Sunbreather come out ahead in terms of identity. I’m pretty sure this was self-released, but I can’t imagine they wouldn’t be able to find a label if they wanted to for it.

Sunbreather’s Linktr.ee

Sunbreather on Instagram

—

Konung, Dope Druid

True, the Moscovian plodders don’t have ‘bong’ or ‘weed,’ etc., in their name, but they’re pretty close to bong metal regardless on this initial three-songer, Dope Druid, lumbering through dank megasludge on the opening title-track before rolling noisier into “Wolf Shepherd” and chug-and-feedbacking to a point of near-abrasion (of the willful sort, mind you) on “Tsar of Blood,” making for a solid 19 minutes of damage to eardrums and braincells alike. So much the better a tone on which to break onesself. Imagine drowning in bong water. They aren’t shooting for anything overly complicated, but there is sort of a scope to the onslaught, and the rawness overarching becomes a benefit to the impact of the material — its heft is engrossing and the way the harshness comes through the recording lends aggression to the groove — but I’m not sure that’s aspiration so much as fortunate circumstance. It’s moot, ultimately, because any way you go, Konung have come to crush you into flattened little bits, and the best advice I can give is go with it and deal with the cleanup after.

Konung on Bandcamp

Konung on Instagram

—

Particularly if you live in this part of the world, you may have heard murmurations in the NYC heavy underground of …In the Key of Doom over the last few months, as Gav’s Heavily Curated has been carefully laying the groundwork for its inaugural two-dayer set for this October. The Meadows, in Brooklyn, will host the event, which brings Greenleaf to NYC for the first time and will feature the likes of Bongripper, Insomniac, Howling Giant, High Desert Queen, Crystal Spiders, as well as Seismic and Grave Bathers from Philly, Leather Lung from Mass, Afghan Haze from CT and maybe you wherever you come from.

Looking ahead on the calendar, Oct. 2 is a Friday (and thus the 3rd is Saturday, duh), and with 11 acts total, I’m assuming it’ll be five one night and six the next, plus the lightshow, and considering the bands involved, that’ll be plenty to make a start. New York is a famously terrible town to do a festival, between the most spoiled audience in the world, the cost of any and everything, and the fact that nothing lasts because sooner or later it’s all going to get turned into investment-condos. I salute Gav’s Heavily Curated for persisting in the face of history and good sense — the truest sign of passion, and no, I’m not being sarcastic — and I hope to be there to see this one play out that early October weekend.

The PR wire brought the announcement and ticket link:

GAV’S HEAVILY CURATED – …In the Key of Doom – Oct 2 & 3

Ticket link: https://kyd.to/Rxmi4Pns

Gav’s Heavily Curated proudly presents the inaugural edition of “…In the Key of Doom” at The Meadows in Brooklyn on October 2nd & 3rd, 2026! Two nights of doom, sludge, stoner, heavy psych and desert rock made by worshippers of the riff for worshippers of the riff! ITKOD will feature headline sets from the legendary Bongripper celebrating 20 years of doom by playing their first northeast show in over 8 years and Sweden’s desert rock icons Greenleaf playing their first ever NYC set in their storied career!

Plus, plenty more heaviness from Insomniac, Howling Giant, Glacier, High Desert Queen, Afghan Haze, Leather Lung, Crystal Spiders, Seismic and Grave Bathers!

More than just an amazing lineup, ITKOD also welcomes NYC’s visual maestro Liquid Light Labs to the GHC family. Liquid Light Labs will be providing mind-melting live visuals with each set over the 2 nights. We can’t wait for you to join us! Two night passes are available now at: https://kyd.to/Rxmi4Pns
🤘💀💨

Artwork by Steven Yoyada
Sponsored by Made in Brooklyn Silk Screeners
Consulting by Lick of My Spoon Productions

https://www.instagram.com/inthekeyofdoom/

https://www.instagram.com/gavsheavilycurated
https://www.facebook.com/people/Gavs-Heavily-Curated/61582943644949/

Greenleaf, “Breathe, Breathe Out” official video

I got to Brooklyn Steel early in hopes that I might be able to catch some of soundcheck, and yes, that panned out. The cavernous space where I’d previously seen the likes of Sleep and Neurosis was empty save for All Them Witches on stage when I walked in, and though it was hours before showtime, the bit of jamming they were doing had a familiar, distinctive resonance.

King Buffalo and All Them Witches stand as two of the foremost underground rock/heavy psych bands of their generation. To the point where I feel silly even saying it; you already know. This was also by no means their first time touring together. I saw them in a small lounge in Eastern Pennsylvania in 2014 (review here), for example, and I know they’ve done a bunch together since, up to this tour. I saw King Buffalo back in January, but the last time I caught All Them Witches was when I still lived in Massachusetts, an entire plague, half a lineup and several years besides ago.

Generally before a show I’m all anxious and my brain feels like it’s going to melt and I stand in front of the stage repeating the mantra that once the music starts everything is going to be okay. I was comfortable enough getting to Brooklyn Steel that I forgot the camera in the car when I got out to see soundcheck. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tempted to leave it there, but I did retrieve it. If I can take pictures of these two bands in a Stroudsburg living room, a photo pit in the part of Long Island they call Brooklyn (which is what The Pecan calls Brooklyn) should be doable. Plus now I can say I saw Ben McLeod riff on “Aqualung.” House of Mirrors Tour delivered.

Snow was in the forecast. All the programmable highway signs on the way into the city were like, “head for shelter!” and “buy all the milk!” and such and sundry as I made my way over the GWB, trading one traffic jam for the next. It could’ve taken me much longer. I’m pretty convinced that TV Eye, where I saw KB in January, is far enough east in New York that it counts as England.

But whatever the conditions on the way home were to be, it was worth my trip well before All Them Witches were done kicking around “Talisman” in soundcheck. They followed with a louder new one and noodled around a while. I like that. That’s not the show, you know? It shows you how a band works together in a different way, where it’s not necessarily about the performance. When they were done, King Buffalo set up in a row in front of ATW’s drum/keyboard riser, drummer Scott Donaldson in the middle, checking first, and took their turn, setting up and warming up, linechecking before their actual soundcheck. Doors were still two hours off. There was no rush.

It was “Hebitation,” then Ben ATW came out on acoustic to run through “Morning Song,” the blend of Sean McVay’s electric, Dan Reynolds’ bass and McLeod’s acoustic was lush and classic in a way that surprised me. Like, get Allan Van Cleave back out here to put keys on it and then maybe jam for 20 minutes and see where it goes. “Gotta make it till the morning comes.” McLeod smoothly traded out for an electric and he and McVay dug in, and it very quickly became apparent as they built toward the crescendo why they’ve been closing sets with “Morning Song” on this tour. It would be something to look forward to later.

Grabbed some food when they were done — there’s a whole story about salad there, but it’s the holidays so I’m granting reprieve — and made it back as doors were about to open. The early crew piled toward the front of the stage, and fair enough. King Buffalo were on at 8PM, and by the time that rolled around, the room was pretty well packed out. Easy to imagine a lot of overlap in terms of fanbases. I’d been looking forward to both bands, certainly. I’m saying it wasn’t necessarily a surprise that the place was full when King Buffalo went on. It was that kind of night.

Oh, and the set was pretty good too. I’d cheated earlier in the day and checked on recent setlists; they’ve been changing it up, as they do. “Hours” opened, rather than “Hebitation,” and “Loam” and “Balrog,” the latter being their latest single, released this time last year, followed in succession. They dipped back to 2016’s Orion for “Drinking From the River Rising,” then hit “Centurion” hard ahead of bringing Ben McLeod out as they’d done in soundcheck for “Morning Song.” He even did the swap-out-acoustic-for-electric, and rather than feeling like I’d spoiled that for myself, it was a little moment I felt all the more able to appreciate knowing it was coming.

All told, it was 45 minutes, which felt short. But it’s a support slot, so not unreasonable. They could’ve done an hour easily and I doubt anyone would’ve blinked, except that McVay had said “Morning Song” was it. I moved up to the balcony after finishing pictures. It was great to look out and see the sea of nodding heads, and I remembered that part of the reason I wanted to come to this show — not that I needed an excuse — is the venue. I’ve seen King Buffalo play to a big crowd before, and it’s awesome. Some dude in the front was having his bachelor party. Many in the crowd cheered for him, including me because I like being married. I knew a bunch of people in the front row as well. It was — wait for it — that kind of night. I felt lucky to have been in the photo pit for “Loam” near the start. Lucky to be in the room at all. Lucky to be anywhere.

All Them Witches hit at 9:15 and opened with “Talisman” and “Blood and Sand (Milk and Endless Waters.” The highlights from there were many and peopled with the characters that have helped make All Them Witches songs so singular, whether that’s “Charles William” or the Coyote Woman, who was both killed and married off by the time they were through. They let out and jammed some, but were of course pro-shop despite making it all look easy. This was my first time seeing them since Allan Van Cleave rejoined on keys/violin, and my first time seeing them with Christian Powers on drums. They had a couple new songs that I didn’t know, but none of it seemed no new as to throw them off their game, whether that was bassist/vocalist Charles Michael Parks, Jr. holding down low-key grunge vibes on stage right or Ben McLeod’s solos doing their own singing on the opposite side.

It definitely didn’t get less beautiful when they went into “Saturn Song,” following that quieter-till-it-isn’t number with the new “Angel on the Wayside,” which had more strut before really digging into its build, and then again after. Phones came out in the crowd to film “Diamomd,” even before Van Cleave took out the violin in the jam. It turned out to be a highlight, so kudos to everyone who had their camera ready — I know, I’m stirrups supposed to bitch about people on their phones at the show; I’m a different kind of old man. The heavy quotient hit a peak with the single “1×1” — chills — but there wss plenty to stand up to it, and as the subdued psych-blues can-I-call-it-a-classic-yet-no-okay-I’ll-wait “Marriage of Coyote Woman” gave over to “When God Comes Back” and “Alabaster,” it was clear we were getting to the end. McLeod had some technical trouble somewhere along the way and Parks talked to the crowd to fill time. He asked how many people had seen the band before.

A good amount had, but not as many who cheered when he asked if it was anyone’s first time. Could it be that All Them Witches are still building their audience? Still growing a fanbase, more than a decade later? That’s a special frickin’ band, and this was that kind of night. “Alabaster” was glorious and finished the regular set, but they came back out for “Red Rocking Chair” and “Bulls.” The former is a traditional given a densely chugging interpretation set to a slow nod, and no complaints, and honestly, “Bulls” is as welcome to close out as any number of other ATW songs would be, including a few they’d already played by then. But I’ll take “Bulls” and thank you kindly.

That was it. Lights came up when they were done and the great shuffle began. Would there be any other way to close out my year as regards live music? Just a crawling human fartcloud. Alas. Fresh air brought snowfall. Wet drive home. Not the worst, not the fastest down Rt. 80 West I’ve ever gone. It doesn’t matter even a little. I was so glad to have left the house, to have made it to this show. Thanks to The Patient Mrs. as always for everything. Thanks to Scott Donaldson and the King Buffalo guys, and Parks and All Them Witches. It was a special kind of night, and in the morning, the first snow of winter high enough to cover the grass had fallen while I slept. Maybe this was me welcoming the season.

Thanks for reading. Some more pics are after the jump if you want to have a gander.

Read more »

Roiled in acidic sneer, the debut EP Real Love from NY psych-shovers Dead Hits has its roots in 2010s-era trippers Naam, whose guitarist/vocalist Ryan Lee Lugar reemerges here. It’s been some 11 years since Naam‘s last studio release — a four-way split (review here) with Black Rainbows, The Flying Eyes and White Hills — and accordingly, Lugar and the company he’s keeping in Dead Hits, with Philippe “Phi Moon” Ortanez (ex-Mirror Queen, ex-La Otracina, Shifters, solo stuff, etc.) also on guitar, Brian Murphy on bass and backing vocals and Jesse Ministero on drums, have embarked on discovering their own take, whatever familiar elements might carry over from Lugar‘s previous outfit, as heard in the vocal pattern on Real Love‘s wah-soaked opening title-track or the gritty blowout in the second half of the penultimate “Perfect World.”

Psychedelic rock is still the foundation, but there’s a fresh dynamic coming together in Dead Hits as well, both in terms of the conversation between Lugar and Ortanez on guitar — which seems to be a big part of it in terms of the songrwiting — and stylistic turns like the grit-garage finisher “Schweinhund,” or its earlier, also-three-minutes-long hard-fuzz-boogie counterpart “Melted.” The second cut behind “Real Love” is a scorcher as regards general purpose, fuzzed in tone and tight in terms of rhythm, with Lugar running through lines overtop, vague but discernible if you want to listen. A series of crashes seems to herald a slowdown but they twist back into the verse instead, some nuance there perhaps ingrained from early NY punk, a bit of perhaps-subconscious strut learned through osmosis before the next ripping solo precedes a last verse and noisy ending.

Pattern-wise, there’s nothing crazy about it. Both “Real Love” and “Melted” have a keeping-it-loose vibe, but the opener is a march and its companion piece at the outset feels no less based around physical movement in its procession, even if that movement happens in another way. Both songs are written to a structure, with purpose, and though Dead Hits may or may not at some point take on a longer form in terms of songwriting — Real Love was co-produced by Lugar and Studio G‘s Jeff Berner (who engineered), but while one assumes the songs started from Lugar, but the only credit given is John Weingarten (ex-Naam) and Tony Castineyra for “additional songwriting” — this initial showing, a first-impression first EP, isn’t where it happens.

Centerpiece “Day and Night” follows the true-to-title finish of “Melted” with a riff that feels culled from the Witch school of riffing and so is suitable for relation to a band who used to be labelmates with them. As it moves past its intro, “Day and Night” has a fervency to its low end that neither “Melted” nor “Real Love” before it boasted. This change in approach doesn’t upset the character of the EP — they’ve had three songs each with something of a different look, so there’s not really anything yet to depart from; they’re still setting the context — and it shifts into a mellower verse before renewing the flood of l0w-end fuzz, shuffling snare and intertwined lead guitar. “Day and Night” is almost entirely instrumental for its second half, and uses much of that time to establish a progression that has both melodic depth and psychedelic outreach. You can hear it in the churn of bass and guitar under the solo, as well of course as in the solo itself.

And maybe it’s inevitable that Lugar and Ortanez would be a focal point for a listener aware of their pedigree, but I’m not sure that’s an obstacle to those otherwise unfamiliar with these players. The reason I say this is specifically because Murphy and Ministero do so much of the work in terms of holding these songs together. Yes, saying something like that is ridiculous in a way, because if the songs weren’t held together they likely wouldn’t be on the EP in the first place, but while the roles of bass and drums in creating the fluidity overarching throughout Real Love is understated, it’s also what lets Ortanez‘s leads and Lugar‘s verses shine, and it’s what balances out the stretches where the guitar is shouting at the universe, because it’s where the band still keep a foot on the ground in terms of groove.

“Day and Night,” also the longest inclusion at 5:31, is a highlight for its tone and for its shred, but if you miss out on the soul behind Ministero‘s snare work or the crunch brought to the underlying rhythm part by Murphy‘s bass, then you’ve missed the song. The point is these are not happenstance or secondary elements. While nascent in the way of a debut EP, Real Love showcases the shape of the whole band, not just the members with parentheses next to their names.

Before the aforementioned “Schweinhund” caps, feedback and low rumble lead the way into the explosion at the start of “Perfect World.” Shorter, more taut and forward-directed in its roll, “Perfect World” keeps its current of guitar noise as the bass punches out the bounce of the verse,  bit of grunge creep in the line there, but put through a prismatic filter of some sort or other. They’re building in that early verse and it’s hard to tell because of the noise, which only makes it feel cleverer as they shift into a crashing instrumental hook. It won’t be the last one as they turn around, and with the rough production, what’s probably a catchy-enough riff requires some digging out of the morass, but that’s pretty satisfying too, and when the solo hits around three and a half minutes in, I feel like I can see Ortanez wiggling his foot on the wah for maximum scorch.

At the end, “Schweinhund” caps with a different kind of ambition, still psych but more banger and less prog-indulgence, which I’ll take as a positive sign and thank you very much. I don’t know what Dead Hits‘ plans are beyond these songs and local gigs, if they have any, but while Real Love sounds like the output of a group getting their bearings, it’s also likely to throw the listener off-balance with just how much of a sense of themselves the band seem to have at this point. Self-awareness, and bonus, because it doesn’t seem to be holding them back.

Dead Hits, Real Love EP (2025)

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