When it was announced by El Paraiso Records earlier this Fall, it was suggested that Dens might be the final release from Danish instrumentalist trio Edena Gardens, who feature in their ranks drummer Jakob Skøtt and bassist/baritone guitarist Martin Rude and Nicklas Sørensen of Papir. The project is one of a slew in the orbit of Causa Sui and El Paraiso, which has become an ecosystem of sometimes-jazzy psych and heavy psych, with exploration as a core value uniting the works released under its banner no less than the themed layouts of the albums being issued.

That said, Edena Gardens has stood out both for quick turnarounds — their self-titled debut (review here) came out in Oct. 2022, and they followed with Agar (review here) earlier this year and still had room to put out the Live Momentum (review here) concert-capture LP, which if this is really it for them one will be glad to have for the documentation — and Dens brings seven pieces spread gracefully across 47 minutes brimming with mellow-psych meander. In Edena Gardens and in his own band, Sørensen has demonstrated again and again an ability to keep solid footing in a molten and shifting context, and whether it’s the brief drone-laced pastoral drift of “Vini’s Lament” (titled in honor of Vini Reilly of The Durutti Column) or the way “Morgensol” takes a conceptual cue from raga and sets itself not toward conveying the energy of the day but the slow-motion manner in which the sun hoists itself above the horizon.

If the first album was Eden — and it wasn’t at the time, but we’re all friends here, you and I, and we’re just talking, and maybe sometimes you want to make a revision so you can someday do a special 4LP box set or some such — and the second Agar, then Dens is the missing syllable to complete the band’s name spelled across their titles: EdenAgarDens. As the third in a maybe-trilogy, then, its shimmering resonance is leant that much more gravitas, but gravity doesn’t really apply here. “Morgensol” runs nine minutes long and is serene throughout, and while the organ and more active drumming in the crescendo of the 14-minute penultimate cut “Sienita” fuels a movement that is vibrant and energetic, Edena Gardens aren’t aiming for impact so much as ambience in terms of the general balance of what they do. Through opener “Wald” (‘forest,’ in Danish) and breeze that seems to blow “Dusted” along its light tumble, seeming to build some tension around three minutes in but resisting the impulse to break out volume-wise, the trio hypnotize in a way that feels multi-tiered, like they’re in it as much as the listener — the very epitome of ‘dug in’ — but if they ever actually get lost at any point, I can’t find where.

Causa Sui‘s Jonas Munk engineered the recording and Skøtt produced — careful hands, is what that tells you — and it’s pretty clear there’s been some level of editing done, which is to say there are fades in and out and pieces like “Vini’s Lament” or the slightly-fuzzier-in-its-leads “An Uaimh Bhinn” (referencing a cave in Scotland) that separates “Morgensol” and “Sienita” were likely carved out of larger improvisations, whereas “Sienita,” reportedly, is the front-to-back live jam with only the aforementioned organ overdubbed.

It’s academic, ultimately, to most who will take on Dens or any other of Edena Gardens‘ output past or right-timeline future, but not at all irrelevant to the vibe, which it doesn’t take long to figure out is high on the priority list here, generally speaking. “Sienita,” named for a type of volcanic rock, unfolds with casual wistfulness early, the drums at a slow march, but takes off gradually as it goes and builds to a first head before the halfway point and recedes again to let the second build start from the ground as it meanders into a payoff that feels like it’s maybe speaking to more than just this record but the cycle of three of which this is part.

And maybe, if Edena Gardens do manage to put a batch of jams/songs-carved-therefrom together after Dens it will inherently feel different just because of some imaginary border between what’s their third and fourth full-lengths. I don’t know and when you’re locked into “Sienita,” it hardly matters. It is a worthy moment for mindful hearing, not the least because it isn’t perfect and isn’t trying to convince anyone it is. It is simply that 14 minutes of playing, represented.

Which of course is nothing so simple. Involved in that, and one might argue emphasized here in terms of the position ahead of closer “Dawn Daydreams,” which is nine minutes shorter than “Sienita” and the second inclusion to reference sunrise behind “Morgensol,” is the chemistry shared between Rude and Skøtt and Sørensen and the organic nature of the jam itself. It’s heady stuff, and one must perhaps be willing to grant that jazz- and krautrock-informed light-touch psychedelic instrumentals might not be a universal appeal — rest assured, it’s the universe’s problem — but Edena Gardens in about the span of a year went from being nothing to having an identifiable sonic persona distinct from both Causa Sui and Papir, the two acts from whom its membership draws.

One such record was not a minor achievement. Two felt like a bonus. The live record, well shit, if they’re gonna be on stage, then yeah. And this? I don’t want to call it a victory lap, because it’s too classy to rub your face in its own achievement, but maybe a celebration of the core collab that makes it up, at least, or a potential project sendoff — and nobody’s saying ‘never again’ here to start with — as well as a completion to the arc that was set out by the band. At the very, very least, it is a collection of thoughtful, malleable and immersive tracks put together by artists whose joy for the process(es) of its making resonates as clearly as Sørensen‘s lead lines in the dappled shimmer of “Wald.” If it’s to be a culmination, then yes, it is.

Edena Gardens, “Dusted” official video

Edena Gardens on Facebook

Edena Gardens on Instagram

El Paraiso Records on Instagram

El Paraiso Records on Facebook

El Paraiso Records website

I like that Edena Gardens basically go, “Yeah, maybe this’ll be the last record or maybe not.” If I’d already put out a self-titled debut (review here) and the follow-up, Agar (review here) and put together a third LP for release — that’s Dens, out Dec. 1 as per the headline above — between 2022 and 2023, I might be somewhat cautious too. If they’re thinking of these three records as a trilogy — they might want to rename the first one Eden for subsequent pressings if they’re using the four-letter-words-from-the-band’s-name as a uniting theme — that’s fine, but they’ve already also done a live album (review here), so they’re not necessarily limited by anything other than what they themselves impose.

Dens is the third Edena Gardens LP. If it’s the last one, well, the collaborative outfit formed by Jakob Skøtt (drums) and Martin Rude (baritone and bass guitar) of Causa Sui and Papir guitarist Nicklas Sørensen didn’t owe anyone anything when they started and they certainly don’t now. If it’s not the last one, and maybe a fourth surfaces sometime in the vast unknowable future, be it six months, six years or whatever, I have no doubt the explorations will continue to resonate as they have through their efforts to-date.

“Veil” in the video below comes from Agar. I haven’t found any a/v from Dens yet but I’m sure both that and preorders are coming. El Paraiso Records knows what’s up, so keep an eye out.

From the PR wire:

Edena Gardens: Dens

Members of Papir & Causa Sui finalise Edena Gardens trilogy.

Formats: CD/LP (600 copies) / Digital Download
Release date: December 1st, 2023

True to El Paraiso fashion, Dens concludes a trilogy of albums, aptly spelling out the last third of the group’s name. And true to form, the band turns inwards rather than outwards, drawing on deep shades of ambient, slowcore, and the ghost of Mark Hollis. While maintaining their psychedelic edge, the trio weaves the lines between genres in a way that’s becoming a signature of its own. Never in a hurry, but always moving somewhere.

Causa Sui drummer Jakob Skøtt & Martin Rude’s bass and baritone guitar lay out a robust yet fleeting foundation. Papir’s Nicklas Sørensen’s glistening guitar lines never felt more free and explorative. While The Durutti Column tribute Vini’s Lament is drenched in nostalgia, a cut like Morgensol (Morning Sun in Danish) explodes in Popol Vuh-esque gloomy euphoria.

Engineered by Jonas Munk & produced by Jakob Skøtt, the album culls hours of free improvisation into a coherent size. Seamless edits and studio wizardry enhance the feeling of an almost narrative nature as the album progresses. Invoking anything from a crackling campfire, rattling bones, and the singing of sand dunes. The culmination lies in the 14-minute track Sienita. A fully formed blistering improvisation, abandoning any studio trickery, besides a singly dubbed organ, rising and falling like the tide.

Is Dens the final chapter of Edena Gardens? Who knows, and who cares… Edena Gardens is all about the present anyway.

Stay at Edena Gardens.

https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100087551630512
https://instagram.com/edenagardens

https://www.facebook.com/elparaisorecords
https://www.instagram.com/elparaisorecords/
https://soundcloud.com/elparaiso
https://elparaisorecords.com/

Edena Gardens, “Veil” official video

Yeah, this is a good one. A lot of this comes from stuff that’s been and is being covered around here over the last couple weeks, and suffice it to say I’ve got no regrets about choosing any of these tracks. I was worried about White Manna getting lost in the Quarterly Review shuffle, so consider this an extra nod to check that out, and celebrating the new Big Scenic Nowhere, Lamp of the Universe, Weedpecker and Pia Isa records feels about right, as well as the Electric Moon collection, Phase, which put “The Loop” right back in my head like it had never left.

Upcoming stuff from Seremonia, Obsidian Sea, Fostermother, and SÖNUS give a glimpse of things to be released over the next month-plus, and the hardest part about including an Author & Punisher track is not rambling incoherently for 20 minutes about how great the rest of the record from which it comes is. I suppose there will be time for such things.

For now, I thank you for listening as always if you do and I’m grateful you see these words either way.

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

Full playlist:

The Obelisk Show – 01.21.22

Pia Isa	Follow the Sun	Distorted Chants
SÖNUS	Pay Me Your Mind	Usurper of the Universe
Weedpecker	Endless Extensions of Good Vibrations	IV: The Stream of Forgotten Thoughts
VT
Fostermother	Hedonist	The Ocean
Frozen Planet….1969	Diamond Dust	Not From 1969
Author & Punisher	Drone Carrying Dread	Kruller
Wormsand	Carrions	Shapeless Mass
Dream Unending	In Cipher I Weep	Tide Turns Eternal
VT
Obsidian Sea	Mythos	Pathos
Lamp of the Universe	Descendants	The Akashic Field
Electric Moon	The Loop	Phase
Papir	7.2	7
Seremonia	Unohduksen Kidassa	Neonlusifer
White Manna	Monogamous Casanova	First Welcome
VT
Big Scenic Nowhere	The Long Morrow	The Long Morrow

The Obelisk Show on Gimme Metal airs every Friday 5PM Eastern, with replays Sunday at 7PM Eastern. Next new episode is Feb. 4 (subject to change). Thanks for listening if you do.

Gimme Metal website

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[Click play above to stream Papir’s 7 in full. Album is out Friday on Stickman Records.]

What if, instead of psychedelia being thought of as a means toward escapism, it could be a way to be present in the moment? To put yourself in existence and thus transform it instead of leaving it behind? Papir‘s latest work, 7, follows behind the Copenhagen trio’s 2021 sidestep Jams (review here) and 2019’s VI (review here) and brings the instrumentalist unit to a particularly soothing place in terms of sound. And it would be easy, given the confused and often terrified state of the world in which it arrives, to think of 7 as a vehicle for the listener to at least close their eyes and imagine something else, some version of the escapism noted above, whatever it may be. But across the four extended tracks — the first of which is the longest (immediate points) with “7.1 (Part I-III)” at 19:52, more than 10 minutes longer than anything else — guitarist Nicklas Sørensen, bassist Christian Becher Clausen and drummer Christoffer Brøchmann Christensen could just as easily be looking for a way to exist in the present moment as to leave it behind. Mindfulness as manifest through psychedelic exploration of sound.

I don’t know that that’s the case and I don’t know that it isn’t. Papir‘s trajectory has grown mellower and more informed by post-rock with time — Sørensen‘s guitar taking on various jazzy impulses here with a gentle feel even as the album’s most active, which is unquestionably the second cut, “7.2” — and even the language one might use to describe their tonality, whether the depth of Clausen‘s bass or the drift in the lead guitar notes, the ethereality of the keyboard lines that emerge after two minutes into the track’s total 6:17, all conjures visions of something other than the reality of a band in a room, creating it, or a listener in a room (or wherever), hearing it. I’m not meaning to argue against psychedelia or heavy psychedelia — and Papir have largely left the pressure to be heavy behind them at this point; they’re no worse off for it — as a transformative experience. It can change you, and it can put you someplace other than where you started out, figuratively or literally. But with 7, I find I’m just as much drawn into the course of the record, from the first graceful awakening of “7.1” to Christensen‘s tom work some six minutes in and the longform drone that ensues over the final two of the piece’s three parts, and it’s as much evocative of itself as of any other atmosphere I might want to put it to.

Perhaps ‘grace’ is the defining feature throughout 7. If one thinks of it in the religious context, the sudden act of being ‘saved,’ then there’s another layer entirely to appreciate along with the smooth fluidity of the material throughout the album, but again, it doesn’t have to be one or the other. 7 is never brash, Papir never tip into the bombastic even as much as they did on Jams, and it doesn’t lose its sense of flow when “7.2” brings the drums in after a long absence in the ending sections of “7.1 (Part I-III)” and bids them farewell once more for the eight-minute “7.3” only to have far-off toms punctuate “7.4” in a shifted priority from the ready hi-hat of the opener.

The material throughout is uniformly gorgeous and spontaneous feeling, but each piece has its own life and its own impression to make within the overarching serenity of the whole, whether it’s “7.1 (Part I-III)” seeming to let go as it transitions from its first movement into the second and more synth-driven third, the regrounding effect of “7.2” after all that spaciousness has been cast — a soft, pastoralist jam with keyboard layered over, resulting in a vibrant wash of melody — the seeming standalone-guitar minimalism that builds upward in “7.3” and the long and winding echoes of “7.4” that are all the more resonant for the reaches they leave open, unpopulated.

Take a deep breath. In through your nose, out through your mouth. I’m not going to sit here on my couch in front of my laptop, needing a shower, coffee on my breath — present in my moment, for better and worse — and tell you how to listen to Papir‘s 7. Or that, if you want to put your headphones on and use Sørensen‘s weaving drones on “7.3” as a means to divorce yourself from whatever negativity, baggage or tumult you’re living through either on a micro or macro level, that you’re wrong to do so. Shit, I don’t know. You might’ve got the plague. These are traumatic, uncertain times. But to me, the comfort bring offered by Papir doesn’t seem to forget that, or to ignore it. Maybe I’m reading into the proceedings — scratch that, I definitely am — but the creativity so much on display throughout 7, and even the chemistry between the members of the band, the sense of arrangement and subtlety they bring to one track and then another is empathetic more than escapist. They’re here too.

While I’m establishing a great list of things I don’t know — there are so many! — I also don’t know when these tracks were recorded. Maybe it was three years ago, maybe it was in the height of pandemic lockdown. What matters more in the end are the feelings they elicit in the audience now that they’re seeing release, and the fact that they seem to offer a place to be that isn’t separate from the world around so much as working to reshape that into something more quiescent. It’s not about numbing out, but about being there for each other and coming to a kind of aural understanding even just of yourself and your place amid all the chaos. What is it that they’re ultimately saying? I don’t know; there are no words. Maybe it’s okay not to know, and to just be, without knowing. What if the argument Papir are making with these songs is a case for the world that is as much as a world that could be? What if the letting go and the escape are a distraction and the thing to do is hold on tighter to right now because it and each other are all we have and so much is lost so easily?

Papir, “7.2” official video

Papir on Facebook

Papir on Instagram

Papir on Bandcamp

Stickman Records website

Stickman Records on Facebook

Stickman Records on Twitter

By my count there are still eight more acts to be announced for Esbjerg Fuzztival 2022, among them two headliners. That count also doesn’t include the potential three more who would/will join the lineup if/when — because it’s good to be optimistic about these things — the Danish festival reaches 400 tickets sold.

Among the groups added to the already formidable bill — which boasts Bongzilla and Weedpecker and the others below — you’ll note the inclusion of Papir, who are shortly to release their new album, 7, on Stickman Records. The fest posted at one point that it considered Papir the most underrated Danish band going. That’s a pretty fair assessment, the more I think about it. Having been fortunate enough to see them live, their chemistry is something unique even among the crowded sphere of heavy jammers, and while the Danish underground is pretty underrated as a whole — I’d extend that to include the likes of Gas Giant and Baby Woodrose — there’s no question Papir are a special group. Probably don’t need to say this, but I’m looking forward to that album, which is out in January.

The below isn’t from the PR wire, but I kind of assembled it from social media posts making the announcements. Esbjerg Fuzztival keep it short and sweet in revealing acts, which as someone who periodically writes announcements for other fests, I can appreciate.

To wit:

We proudly present… DOPELORD at Fuzztival ’22!

Full festival partout tickets available NOW!
Get yours before December 31st and help us add another night of fuzz and THREE more bands!

Fuzztival proudly presents… PURPLE HILL WITCH!

We proudly present PAPIR, RITUAL KING and BOGWIFE at Fuzztival ’22!

More bands TBA including two headliners!

Partout tickets now available. Day tickets available in 2022.

Remember to buy your tickets ASAP! If we reach 400 by new years eve we’ll add a FREE pre-party Thursday the 12th with THREE additional bands!

https://www.facebook.com/esbjergfuzztival/
https://www.instagram.com/esbjerg_fuzztival/
https://www.fuzztival.com/

Papir, 7 (2022)

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Papir

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

It can be a real challenge to define what it is you do, besides the obvious (music – the musical praxis, playing, listening, composing, improvising, whatever you want to call the process of creating something with sound and musical elements). It is probably hard for us to neglect the social aspect of playing together and reacting to each other in a musical context, getting something done (making a record, playing concerts) and learning from it – that is of course very important too. In that sense you could define what we do essentially as “band stuff” – we are primarily a band, a collective of three individuals who happen to play and make music together, which includes all the above-mentioned stuff.

How we came to do it? Besides sharing an early common and serious interest in playing music we had the privilege of being introduced to a good social and musically stimulating environment at a young age, attending music school and hanging out in the local youth club, that had some great facilities (rehearsal spaces for bands, music pedagogues, etc.). That was probably an important part of the foundation of getting inspired to play music and play in a band – to meet other people interested in the same thing, having access to equipment and having adults around who were supportive in what we did.

Describe your first musical memory.

The first musical memory we share, is probably from around 2002, when Christoffer joined Christian and me in the band we played in back then. We had an audition and played a self-made song and then jumped directly into a jammy cover-version of the well-known classic “Mustang Sally.” Don’t recall how it sounded, but I do remember that we all instinctively knew that Christoffer was the right drummer for our band.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

There are a lot of contenders! We still have some very fond memories of the first studio session we ever did back in 2009. That was in the early stages of playing and creating instrumental music together, we hadn’t even played any concerts in this format with this then “new music” and we were still in a process of searching and finding a path to follow. In the context of recording an album of instrumental music it was a very open session musically speaking – perhaps best reflected in the non-released jam material from that session, this can be heard as documented processes that really bear witness to a band wide searching for a path, a music, expressions of something.

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

…

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

Not sure that we work with artistic progression per se, or to put it in other words: we are not sure we see/hear music as art. Music can probably be seen as an artform, but we don’t think that’s our domain – to create music as art. We mainly work within the terms and elements of music itself, so you can say that we work with musical progression and in that sense it wouldn’t make sense at all to continue creating music if we didn’t have a feeling of progression. So basically, the aspect of progression happens through a kind of learning process. For instance, making a new record is an opportunity to learn something new about music or the “art” of making an album or whatever you are open to take from it and hopefully that leads to a progression in the short or long term. The progression itself can probably lead to anything – theoretically speaking there are no boundaries.

How do you define success?

There is an elemental feeling of success knowing the fact that we can still find the time to meet and play together, when members of the band have full time jobs, kids and all the other adult stuff. Having a record label who continues to release our music, the fact that people still come out to our concerts buy our records and that music lovers like yourself dedicate their time to listen and write about us – all that could be interpreted as a sign of success. There is a lot to be grateful for.

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

A drunk, naked musician unknown to us once sleepwalked into our hotel room while we were asleep. We woke up realizing that he was leaning against our bed, mumbling something in a language we didn’t understand. Very weird and shocking experience that we wish we hadn’t witnessed. Or?

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

To have our own recording studio would probably be a dream come true. We could probably create that if we wanted and had the time to do it. And to create a new record is always something special.

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

The most essential function of art is to open and expand your mind and senses – to invite you to experience something that is meaningful beyond words and doesn’t necessarily have a function.

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

We are looking forward to the next “bandaften” (band night), which is a something we do once in a while – just hanging out together, not necessarily playing music (not that it’s forbidden of course), bowling?, cooking together and drinking a well-considered or not-well-considered amount of IPAs.

http://www.facebook.com/papirband
http://www.papir.bandcamp.com
http://www.instagram.com/papirband
http://stickman-records.com

Papir, 7 (2022)

I’ve been having tech issues all day with the site’s back end and that’s infuriating, so I haven’t even had the chance to check it the new Papir song yet. Surely, if I had, I’d be in a much less smash-my-face-into-the-wall place mentally, but let’s hope that I’m able to get there sooner than later. To the song, that is.

Plenty of bands number their records. Fewer get to 7 as a part of that — also worth noting that not all the Papir LPs are numbered — but the Danish outfit can just keep going as far as I’m concerned. This year they released the aptly-titled Jams, as if to ask what question what more anyone could want. Another record will do fine, thank you. Jan. 14? Great. Something to look forward to when winter seems to be at its deadest.

The PR wire has details and the preorder from Stickman:

Copenhagen Post-Krautrock Trio PAPIR Shares Album Details + Brand New Video!

“7” coming out on January 14, 2022 through Stickman Records!

Copenhagen-based psych and melodic krautrock trio PAPIR has revealed the first details about their forthcoming album, aptly-titled “7”, which is slated for a release on January 14, 2022 via Stickman Records.

On their 7th full-length album, the band dials back their fuzz pedals and returns to the heavily atmospheric soundscapes that define much of their recent work. Many aspects of PAPIR’s music seem to have much in common with the sea – be it a willful association by the Danish trio or not. Their output moves in waves, sometimes fierce and blustery, sometimes gentle and calming, but always performed with unforced, organic talent. Over the course of their 7 full-length albums, the band sways between psychedelic guitar meltdowns and long atmospheric passages with grace and ease. “7”, with its blurred aquatic cover artwork is of course no exception to this rule, and the album is comprised of four long songs that return to calming waters after 2021’s heavier Jams.

But give ear, as the band just shared a first single taken from “7”! Watch the new video, created by Søren Bang Clemmensen, for the song “7.2” here.

Album side A is made up entirely of one 20-minute composition that flows seamlessly from the band’s signature melodic kraut-inspired rock into an ebb and flow of gorgeous ambient soundscapes. Guitarist Nicklas Sørensen’s shows a remarkable versatility, conjuring up a variety of sounds with his guitar that seem hardly possible with one instrument. When drummer Christoffer Brøchmann Christensen and bassist Christian Becher Clausen rejoin on side B, three further blissed-out tracks carry the listener away into their own world. If ambient post-krautrock isn’t yet a genre title, PAPIR should certainly be credited with its invention.

Album track listing:
1. 7.1 (part I-III)
2. 7.2
3. 7.3
4. 7.4

Coming out as LP including download card and as CD, the album pre-sale will be available on October 22 at THIS LOCATION: http://stickman-records.com

http://www.facebook.com/papirband
http://www.papir.bandcamp.com
http://www.instagram.com/papirband
http://stickman-records.com

Papir, “7.2”

Day two already, huh? It’s a holiday week here in the States, which means people are on vacation or have at least enjoyed a long weekend hopefully without blowing any body parts off with fireworks or whatnot. For me, I prefer the day on rather than the day off, so we proceeded as normal yesterday in beginning the Quarterly Review. “We now return to our regularly scheduled,” and so on.

There’s a lot of good stuff here, as one would hope, and since we’re still basically at the start of this doublewide edition of the Quarterly Review — 10 down, 90 to go — I won’t delay further. Thanks for reading.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Papir, Jams

Two sessions, three days apart, three pieces from each, resulting in six tracks running just about 80 minutes that Papir are only within their rights to have titled simply as Jams. With this outing, the Copenhagen-based psychedelic trio present their process at its most nakedly exploratory. I don’t know if they had any parts pre-planned when they went into the studio, but the record brims with spontaneity, drums jazzing out behind shimmering guitar and steadily grooving basslines. Effects are prevalent and add to the spaciousness, and the sessions from whence these songs came, whether it’s the key-led four-minute “20.01.2020 #2” or the 20-minute opener “17.01.2020 #1” — all tracks sharing the same date-and-number format as regards titles — feel vibrant and fluid in a way that goes beyond even the hazy hypnotics of “20.01.2020 #3.” Papir‘s instrumental dynamic is of course a huge part of what they do anyway, but to hear their chemistry come through in freer fashion as it does here can only be refreshing. I hope they do more like this.

Papir on Facebook

Stickman Records website

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Kosmodemonic, Liminal Light

Brooklyn outfit Kosmodemonic exist almost exclusively within genre border regions. Their second album, Liminal Light, fosters an approach that’s too considered not to be called progressive, but that owes as much to the cosmic doom of YOB as to black metal as to noise rock as to Voivod as to any number of other various ores in the metallic sphere. In their sprinting moments or in the consuming dark grandeur of centerpiece “Ipomoea,” they are pointedly individual, and cuts like “Drown in Drone” and the later slammer “Brown Crown” owe much to sheer impact as to the cerebral underpinnings of their angularity. Liminal Light is vicious but methodical, and feels executed with a firm desire to catch the audience sleeping and then blindside them with a change, be it in moving from one song to another or within one song itself, like when the penultimate “Chains of Goddess Grove” rears back from its lurching movement and spews thrashier fire in its final minute. Put these moments together and you get a record that challenges on multiple levels and is unflinchingly worth the effort of close engagement.

Kosmodemonic on Facebook

Transylvanian Tapes on Bandcamp

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Steve Von Till, A Deep Voiceless Wilderness

The sixth solo offering from Neurosis guitarist/vocalist Steve Von Till is a first for being completely instrumental. The narrative — blessings and peace upon it — goes that Von Till wrote the music for 2020’s No Wilderness Deep Enough (review here) late during jetlagged nights alone on his wife’s family’s property in Germany, where her family has lived for 500 years, only to later be convinced by producer Randall Dunn to write lyrics and record vocals for the songs. A Deep Voiceless Wilderness, as the title hints, pulls those vocals back out of these re-named pieces, allowing elements like the quiet textures of keyboard and piano, horns and mellotrons to shine through in atmospheric fashion, layers of drone intertwining in mostly peaceful fashion. It is the least guitar-based record Von Till has ever done, and allows for a new kind of minimalism to surface along with an immersive melodic hum. Subdued, meditative, exploratory, kind of wonderful.

Steve Von Till website

Neurot Recordings store

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Sex Blender, Studio Session I

Based in Lviv, Ukraine, instrumentalist krautrock bizarros Sex Blender have two full-lengths behind them, and Studio Session I takes the consumingly fuzzed “Diver” from 2018’s Hormonizer and three cuts from 2020’s The Second Coming and turns them into a stirring 44-minute set captured on video for a livestream. Reportedly some of the arrangements are different, as will certainly happen, but as someone being introduced to the band through this material, it’s easy to be struck by the palpable sense of glee with which Sex Blender present their songs. “Crimson Master” is the shortest of the bunch at just over six minutes — it’s the only one under 11 — but even there, the manipulated keyboard sounds, drum fluidity and undercurrent of rumbling distortion push Sex Blender into a place that’s neither doom nor prog but draws from both, crawling where the subsequent “Rave Spritz” can’t help but bounce with its motorik drums and intertwined synth lines. May just be a live session, but they shine all the same.

Sex Blender on Facebook

Drone Rock Records website

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Déhà, Cruel Words

Déhà‘s third long-player Cruel Words was originally issued in 2019 and is seeing a first vinyl pressing on Burning World Records. The Brussels solo outfit has released no fewer than 17 other full-length outings — possibly more, depending on what counts as what — in the two years since these songs initially surfaced, but, well, one has to start someplace. The 2LP runs 75 minutes and includes bonus tracks — an acoustic version of opener “I Am Mine to Break,” a cover of The Gathering‘s “Saturnine” and the piano-into-post-metal “Comfort Me II” — but the highlights are on the album itself, such as the make-Amenra-blush 12-minute crux of “Dead Butterflies,” wherein a lung-crushing weight is given patient drama through its prominent keyboard layers, or the goth early going of “Pain is a Wasteland,” which seems to brood until it finally can’t take it anymore and bashes its head (and yours) into the wall. Surprisingly methodical for the manic pace at which Déhà (né Olmo Lipani) works, it makes artistry of its arrangement as well as performance and is willfully overwhelming, but engaging in that.

Déhà on Facebook

Burning World Records website

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Thunder Horse, Chosen One

Big riffs, big grooves, big hooks, Thunder Horse‘s second long-player, Chosen One, sees the San Antonio, Texas, outfit inherit some aspects from the members’ past outfits, whether it’s the semi-industrial vocal style of Stephen Bishop on “Among the Dead” or the classically shredding solo work of Todd Connally. With Dave Crow on bass and Jason “Shakes” West on drums, Thunder Horse elbow their way into a nod quickly on Chosen One and hold their ground decisively, with Dehumanizer-esque tones and flourish of keys throughout that closes in lead position on the outro “Remembrance” in complement to the strumming, whistling “Texas” a short while earlier. Even when they shuffle, as on the second half of “Song for the Ferryman,” Thunder Horse do it heavy, and as they did with their 2018 self-titled debut (review here), they make it hard to argue, either with the atmosphere or the sheer lumber of their output. An easy record to dig for the converted.

Thunder Horse on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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Rebreather, Pets / Orange Crush

Heads up children of — or children of children of — the 1990s, as Youngstown, Ohio’s Rebreather effectively reinterpret and heavy up two of that decade’s catchiest hooks in Porno for Pyros‘ “Pets” and R.E.M.‘s “Orange Crush.” Taking songs that, if they ever left your head from rock radio, will certainly be right back in there now, and trying to put their own spin on them is ambitious, but Rebreather have no trouble slowing down the already kinda languid “Pets” or emphasizing the repetitive urgency of “Orange Crush,” and the tonal weight they bring to both honors the original versions as well as who Rebreather are as a band, while showcasing the band’s heretofore undervalued melodies, with call and response vocal lines in both cuts nodding to their sludge/noise rock roots while moving forward from there. They chose the songs well, if nothing else, and though it’s only about 10 minutes between the two cuts, as the first new Rebeather material since their 2018 self-titled EP (discussed here), I’ll take the two covers happily.

Rebreather on Facebook

Aqualamb Records website

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Melmak, Down the Underground

Spanish duo Melmak — guitarist/vocalist Jonan Etxebarria and drummer/vocalist Igor Etxebarria — offer an awaited follow-up to their 2016 long-player Prehistorical (review here) and demonstrate immediately that five years has not dulled their aggressive tendencies. Opener “Black Room” is a minute-long grindfest, and though “Scum” finds its way into a sludgy groove, it’s not far behind. “Poser” starts out as a piano ballad but turns to its own crushing roll, while “The Scene” rumbles out its lurch, “You Really Don’t Care” samples a crying baby over a sad piano line and “Ass Kisser” offers knee-to-the-face bruiser riffing topped with echoing gutturalism that carries the intensity into the seven-minute, more spacious “Jaundiced,” which gives itself over to extremity in its second half as well, and the closing noise wash of “The Crew.” What we learn from all this is it would seem Melmak find the heavy underground wanting in violent terms. They answer that call in bludgeoning fashion.

Melmak on Facebook

Melmak on Bandcamp

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Astral Magic, Visions of Infinity

Ostensibly a solo-project from Dark Sun bassist Santtu Laakso, Astral Magic‘s debut LP, Visions of Infinity, features contributions from guitarist Martin Weaver (Wicked Lady, Doctors of Space) and Scott “Dr. Space” Heller (Doctors of Space, Øresund Space Collective), as well as Samuli Sailo on ukulele, and has been mixed and mastered and released by Heller, so perhaps the plot thickens as regards just how much of band it is. Nonetheless, Astral Magic have all the cosmos to work with, so there’s plenty of room for everybody, as Visions of Infinity harnesses classic Hawkwindian space rock and is unafraid to add droning mysticism to the ever-outward procession on “Ancient Mysteries” or “Onboard the Spaceship,” to grow playful on “I Was Abducted” or bask in cosmic serenity on “Winds of Time” and “Wizards.” Off we go, into the greater reaches of “out there.” It’s a fun ride.

Astral Magic on Facebook

Space Rock Productions website

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Crypt Monarch, The Necronaut

Costa Rican trio Crypt Monarch offer their debut full-length in the form of the three-song/36-minute The Necronaut, the sound of which makes the claim on the part of the band — bassist/vocalist Christopher De Haan, guitarist Jose Rodriguez, drummer/vocalist J.C. Zuñiga — that it was made live in a cabin in the woods easy enough to believe. Though mixed and mastered, the 15-minute opener “Morning Star Through Skull” (15:41) and ensuing rollers “Rex Meridionalis” (10:12) and “Aglaphotis” (10:08) maintain a vigilant rawness, laced with noise even as De Haan and Zuñiga come together vocally on the latter, clean singing and gurgles alike. It is stoner metal taken to a logical and not entirely unfamiliar extreme, but the murk in which Crypt Monarch revel is dense and easy to get lost within. This, more than any single riff or lumbering groove, speaks to the success of the band’s intention in crafting the record. There is no clearly marked exit.

Crypt Monarch on Facebook

Electric Valley Records website

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