Posted in Whathaveyou on June 26th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
You can hear and see here that Philadelphia-based five-piece Quiet Man — who used to be called God Root — are working to distinguish themselves from the genre pack with their debut album. The way their style is discussed below — the references to dark psychedelia, and so on — I take as a signifier that their aural individuality is a goal in both the now and longer-term. And while that might be true for most bands at least in terms of what they say in press releases, the crusher single “Set to Boil is the New Standard” and their brazenly political stance-taking back up that intention as well.
“Set to Boil is the New Standard” is nine minutes long and one of seven tracks on the record, so either the runtime borders on an hour or they change up their methods significantly throughout. Either way, really. As a first impression from a first record as Quiet Man, the song’s weight is carried through the guitar and bass tones and the overarching atmosphere, a mood of actual-doom (as opposed to doom metal; I’m talking about the end of the world) and the resultant existential angst pervading all the more after reading the descriptions below. I guess they wind up in the post-metal or post-sludge vein, but at least with the single it’s more about the route that gets them there, which is engaging, brutally churning and spacious in kind.
The Starving Lesson is out July 14 through Riff Merchant Records and Astralands. The following came down the PR wire:
QUIET MAN Announces New Album The Starving Lesson
Bringing the darkness back to psychedelia, QUIET MAN (formerly God Root) is anything but quiet. The sludge-infused kaleidoscopic debut album, The Starving Lesson is as political and ecologically bent as it is emotionally and spiritually compelling. “It’s hard to write about anything else when you see what is happening to the planet and to our community,” the band states. The Starving Lesson is due out via Riff Merchant Records and Astralands 7/14.
Today the band has revealed the first single off of the new album. “Set to Boil Is The New Standard”.
Of the track, the band shares: “The military industrial machine is a Frankenstein monster long unchained from any master but total domination and anti-life. It is programmed to feed on the blood of the exploited for meaningless capital to the end-state of annihilation.”
“This isn’t rainbows and sunshine psych, this is peaking on acid in a car accident shit,” the band continues of the album. “We want the music, especially live, to be a more physical sensory experience. I think music has the power to change the physiology of a person and we really strive to give people a psychedelic experience and sense of catharsis through the performance.”
The soundtrack to the self-extinction of man, The Starving Lesson is a stark proclamation of the inevitable end.
The record kicks off with “Pressure to Burrow” The destruction of the self on both the micro and macro levels, the track about watching the people you love falling prey to chaotic drug use, drawing a thematic parallel to the self-destructive ecocide we perpetrate as a species.
“At Operating Temp” is a noise interlude that introduces sounds from numbers stations, encoded and usually automated messages sent to espionage agents over shortwave radio frequencies. These transmissions will outlast all life on Earth.
“From Tomorrow’s Dead Hiss” raises the stakes from simple self-destruction to ecological genocide. “It parallels the dulling and cheapening of human life through the machinations of capitalism to the dulling and cheapening of the Earth and her resources,” the band elaborates.
“The Post Abandoned” uses sounds from shortwave stations including the “dead hand system” meant to trigger nuclear retaliation in the case that there is nobody left alive to “push the button”.
While “The Starving Lesson” is a plea to leave the machine to not participate in its violence.
“All Along We Were Beautiful Radiant Things” is a recontextualization of a very hopeful and inspiring quote from Emma Goldman’s Living My Life: “I want freedom, the right to self-expression, everybody’s right to beautiful, radiant things.’ Anarchism meant that to me, and I would live it in spite of the whole world — prisons, persecution, everything. Yes, even in spite of the condemnation of my own closest comrades I would live my beautiful ideal.”
The Starving Lesson was recorded by Scot Moriarty at Backroom Studios in Rockaway, NJ and mastered by Magnus Lindberg (CULT OF LUNA).
The beginning of the end, what will take root once we are gone?
QUIET MAN is:
Joe Hughes – Guitar/Vocals Keith Riecke – Guitar Jack Sterling – Guitar/Samples Ross Bradley – Bass/Vocals Jason Jenigen – Drums
Recorded in 2020, Anthems and Phantoms is the ninth full-length from Philadelphia committed instrumentalists and doomjazz innovators Stinking Lizaveta. The three-piece of guitarist Yanni Papadopoulos, upright electric bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta were last heard from with 2017’s Journey to the Underworld (review here), and the new album — produced at Permanent Hearing Damage in South Philly by Steve Roche and issued via SRA Records — will carry them past the 30th anniversary of their inception in 2024. If you’ve been fortunate enough to see them in the post-pandemic era — they’ve been at Desertfest NYC (review here), Psycho Las Vegas (review here), and are about to support Telekinetic Yeti on a summer tour of the Western portion of the country — then you’ve already basked in the joy and passion that radiates from Stinking Lizaveta onstage. They shred, they dizzy, they head-down-speed-riff-into-open-groove, all hairpin turns and the underlying technical prowess to pull it off, but they’re not a ‘tech’ band at all.
In tone, the nine songs and 34 minutes of Anthems and Phantoms are organic and warm and fluid enough to make even side B opener “Serpent Underfoot” feel inviting with its initial bursts of crash and howling guitar. Alexi‘s bass work, as ever, is a not-hidden treasure of the low end, even as “Serpent Underfoot” layers a guitar solo over the post-midpoint of the track, which by the way is under three minutes long; the shortest on the record by three seconds at 2:45, as opposed to the earlier “Let Live” at 2:48. But there and in the succession of three four-plus-minute cuts that follow — the sneaker-riff “Blue Skunk” (4:40), the mellow-psych bass-highlight exploration screaming into its payoff “The Heart” (4:56) and closer “Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt” (4:37), which follows suit on the quiet start but makes its ending more wistful with a slower (but for the shred), bluesy spirit — Stinking Lizaveta underscore the love-yes-love in what they do live across these studio pieces. I don’t know and won’t speculate on the recording process, though if you told me basic tracks were live, I’d believe it. But there’s layering as well, so at least some manner of overdubbing happened, and not at all to the detriment either of the material generally or the energy with which it hits the listener. It is a complement to the live experience rather than a recreation, and as a studio outing it works toward its own ends, whether that’s the relative stretchout in the album’s back half after the crunchfest of side A or the beyond-dug-in nature of the songs across the whole.
I’m a fan of this band and I won’t pretend otherwise, but while metal and prog have entire leagues of bands whose focus is solely on look-what-we-can-do-style fret runs and odd time-signatures, etc., heavy rock and roll has Stinking Lizaveta. In the fading-in feedback and subsequent siren-call lead twists of opener “Electric Future,” the constant smoothing-out and brash throwing of sonic elbows — and a bit of Iron Maiden in the ‘verse’ — of “Shock,” and the way “Let Live” seems to roll into its stops as a preface to the midtempo fluidity of “Nomen est Omen” with its nod and ascending movement through the finish, Anthems and Phantoms may be anthems up front, phantoms in the back in terms of the A/B LP divide, or it may just be what came out of the studio that particular day three years ago, but no matter where they go, it is unquestionably Stinking Lizaveta‘s own.
They are singular, and unique, which is not a word I often use. With the careening guitar, snare-shred and the depth, bounce and heft provided by the bass, “Daily Madness” is only a fitting centerpiece, drawing a line under the fact that Stinking Lizaveta don’t need anything other than themselves. Yeah, there’s another layer of lead guitar (probably not keyboard) tucked into the ending of the song, a little extra twist thrown in for good measure, but even so, Anthems and Phantoms is pure Stinking Lizaveta front to back, and it doesn’t need to be a departure because the band themselves are the departure.
For someone taking them on for the first time — and six years after their last record, that’s entirely possible — Anthems and Phantoms might come across as head-spinning in a way that’s hard to keep up with, but that’s the idea. The righteousness of Stinking Lizaveta stems from the execution of their own approach on their own terms, and from the fact that they so clearly love what they do. Started off with guitar, “Nomen est Omen” is both raw and high-class, elaborate in style and barebones in arrangement, sprawling and unpretentious. And the same is true as “Blue Skunk” Hendrixes toward its finish, serving as a transition to the aforementioned closing pair of “The Heart” and “Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt,” and everywhere else. As comparatively gentle as the ending of the album is compared to “Electric Future” and “Let Live” — triumphant and memorable as they are in leading off the record, and very much intended to be as frenetic as they might feel — it is only through engaging with both that the full scope of Anthems and Phantoms can be internalized. Dense as some of the parts are, don’t be surprised if that takes a few listens.
And don’t be surprised if some never get there. I’m not gatekeeping or talking down to anyone or any of that on-the-internet garbage, but I have to imagine even Stinking Lizaveta would admit their music isn’t composed or played for universal accessibility. They are so much on their own wavelength that it’s inevitable, but much to their credit, the sounds across Anthems and Phantoms — fast, slow(ish), manic, soothing, up, down, left, right, A, B, select, start — are an invitation more than a line in the sand. Stinking Lizaveta are ready to bring their audience with them on this relatively brief outing, just as they do live. If they were gospel, this would be their ‘joyful noise,’ and what they’re worshiping is creativity itself. Open mind, open ears, gird loins, dive in. Whether you’re a longtime fan or you’ve never heard them before, Anthems and Phantoms manifests so much of what has made Stinking Lizaveta so special for so long. It is life-affirming in the truest sense of defining its own purpose.
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 31st, 2023 by JJ Koczan
One original and two covers seems innocuous enough until you get to the fact that one of those covers is “All Star.” Anyone see that video where the dude from Smash Mouth is hammered and goes on about going to someone in the audience’s house and murdering their family? If not, it’s both fucked and worth a watch. I don’t know what on earth might’ve possessed Mothman and The Thunderbirds spearhead Alex Parkinson to take on that particularly brutal earworm, beyond a well developed sense of irony, but I’m sorry, I’m not listening to that shit.
I listen to all kinds of music, and I’m up for checking out the original track “Gazer” and their version of “Mr. Spaceman” by The Byrds, and I’ll even dig into the bonus track, but Smash Mouth? That song is so bad it’s poisonous. I’m sure they do it and it’s either great or hilarious — or better, both — but I gotta pass. Just that track. The rest I’ll look forward to mightily.
June 23 is the release date for the Philly outfit’s Gazer EP, a stopgap en route to their next full-length, and they sent the following info down the PR wire:
Mothman and The Thunderbirds have returned once again, this time with the space-themed EP Gazer. The EP features the band’s original track “Gazer”, a space rockin’ song that is equal parts adrenaline and psychedelia. The new song is accompanied by two covers that keep with the cosmic theme: a mystifying version of Smash Mouth’s “All Star” and a totally tripped out take on The Byrds’ “Mr. Spaceman”. The EP will be released on June 23rd, and is recommended for fans of Torche, Hum, Ween, Mutoid Man, Swervedriver, and Truckfighters.
The band welcomes back Joe Sobieski, who previously sang on their 2021 track “Cloud Giant”. Joe penned the lyrics to “Gazer” and sings on the verses for that track and “All Star”. His clean yet animated vocals provide a potent contrast to project leader Alex Parkinson’s explosive choruses. Egor Lappo also returns at the helm of production duties, having previously elevated the band’s sound on their 2021 CKY cover and 2022 split EP with World Eaters. Egor’s mixing and mastering skills shine through once again, tripling down on the cosmic sound Mothman and The Thunderbirds peddle throughout this EP.
When asked for comment on the Gazer EP, Alex had this to say: “this EP is very trippy, and very, very fun!” Pressed for something more insightful to say, he added: “we’ve been hard at work on the next album, so this EP was a nice break. “Gazer” was a song Joe and I wrote in 2018 that we unearthed and recorded earlier this year – I’m super proud of how it turned out! We had a great time putting our own strange spin on those covers too. This EP is a fun pitstop for the band as we prepare to embark on our next big sonic adventure!”
Tracklist: 1) Gazer 2) All Star 3) Mr. Spaceman 4) Liminal Spacetime Continuum (Bonus – Instrumental Demo)
Credits: Alex Parkinson – lead & backing vocals, guitars, bass, mandolin, synths Joe Sobieski – lead vocals, whistle solo Egor Lappo – mixing, mastering, production, drum programming Lyrics for “Gazer” written by Joe Sobieski, music by Alex Parkinson. Music for the bonus track “Liminal Spacetime Continuum” was written by Alex Parkinson.
Posted in Questionnaire on May 22nd, 2023 by JJ Koczan
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: Mike Lang of Seismic
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
We call ourselves instrumental doom from Philadelphia. Being an instrumental band is a major piece of our identity and it affects how we think about songwriting and how we each approach playing in this band. We base a lot of what we do in doom, but we draw on other influences like sludge, hardcore, post-rock, stoner, drone, and progressive music from across the spectrum of music and find ways to incorporate those into our sound.
Ken Miller (Bass), Anthony Mariano (Guitar), and I, (Mike Lang – Drums) started jamming in 2018. Initially, we had thought about searching for a vocalist, but we’d all seen too many otherwise-promising bands ruined by bad vocals. We made the decision early on to be instrumental and have ultimately enjoyed the challenge of placing the instruments themselves front and center. As we were working on our first EP, which we released during the pandemic, we realized that in order achieve the layers we were recording in the studio onstage, we would need another guitarist. For this, we enlisted Tommy McEwan, Ken’s former bandmate from Eaten Alive (RIP).
For the past year-and-a-half, we’ve been busy writing and recording our upcoming full-length. More progressive and broader in scope than our first EP, it centers around a half-hour-long song called “The Time Machine”. We started playing with ideas that would be the seed of “The Time Machine” in some of our initial practices and really developed it out in detail during long writing sessions during the pandemic. We recorded a demo of it, which we released in January.
Describe your first musical memory.
All of us in Seismic are life-long musicians and concertgoers, so I’m sure we’d each have our own answer to this question. I’ll cite the Ufomammut show at Johnny Brenda’s as our first collective musical memory though, as it was the first time that Anthony, Ken and I were all in the same place at the same time. Separately, we were discussing plans to start a band and at the show we solidified those plans. Of course, Ufomammut put on a fantastic, deafening show full of expansive psychedelic spacescapes.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
As a band, our best musical memory would be our recent “The Time Machine” demo release show.
When we were writing our first EP, there were parts and ideas that surpassed our vision for the first release and got shelved. We revisited those parts after releasing the EP and spent the better part of the last three years developing them into a long-form composition. It was a long and involved process.
We decided to demo the song before committing it to the full-length that we’re currently working on. We recorded the drums at Coffee Haus Studio in Freehold, NJ, where we recorded our first EP, and recorded all the guitars and bass at Anthony’s home studio. Anthony did all the mixing and mastering.
Ken created some great art for the song and put a lot into making a cool physical release. We invited some excellent local bands we’re friends with to play and really celebrated the culmination of years of work by debuting the entire half-hour long song live that night. I think we were all proud of it and thought it was one of the best shows any of us had played.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I think it’s much less about leading to a specific destination than the lifelong journey that artistic progression offers. There’s always another hill to climb or place to push yourself. I like that this is a band that enjoys the process. We challenge each other to grow, to think about parts differently, and to improve. We’re constantly sharing new music with each other, discussing guitar pedals, giving feedback on each other’s sound. With each new set of songs that we write, we can see how far we’ve come and that’s exciting to me, even if I’m not sure where we’re ultimately going.
How do you define success?
Everything we create, we create for us. We’re not seeking outside approval or looking for greater acceptance. If we’re writing music that excites us; that we enjoy listening to, that’s success. Of course, hearing that music we’ve created connects with someone else is even more fulfilling. Hearing that someone else noticed and appreciated a little detail or maybe even thought about our music in a way that we hadn’t is always exciting. We don’t take this for granted. We consider it a privilege to be able to share the music that we create. We are fortunate to have the platform we do and to have an amazing music community here in Philadelphia that supports and inspires us.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Ken and I are huge Eagles fans (Go Birds!), so we wish we hadn’t seen Jalen Hurts fumbling the ball and the Chiefs returning it for a touchdown in the second quarter of the Super Bowl this year.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
Our songs primarily emerge organically from jamming in practice. Sometimes a song manifests from a series of riffs that flow well together and things solidify really quickly. Other times songs are constructed over months and the process can be more painstaking, or we may keep experimenting with ideas long after a song’s structure is established. Either way, we’re always trying to make sure that we’re expanding our horizons and doing new things. We don’t necessarily know what that may sound like, so just continuing to create is our goal.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
It’s a release. It’s expression. When it’s good, it leads to some form of enlightenment.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Though I’m going to miss DesertFest NYC for it, I’m still excited about a trip I have planned to go hiking in the Dolomites this fall. Tommy is looking forward to better weather for cycling and days of soldering electronics. Anthony and Ken are both artists. Anthony started taking graduate painting classes, and is experimenting with oil paint. Ken is a life-long painter, specializing in dark art and works in graphic design. He recently launched his website (www.violentvisual.com) and is accepting commissions. Hire him to do your next album cover.
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 22nd, 2023 by JJ Koczan
As it was like three days ago, the memory of Boozewaannouncing their new single “Maybe I’m a Bird” is pretty fresh. Not complaining though. It’s a good memory, and at this point I’ve heard the track and it’s easily the highest fidelity and most atmospheric recording they’ve yet had. The trade for that is the rawness of those basement tapes — which definitely have their place and their specific appeal — but here’s the thing: the one doesn’t at all preclude the other. If Boozewa want to follow the pro-shop sound of “Maybe I’m a Bird” with something they tracked vigilante style in a Costco parking lot, that’s allowed — artistically, anyhow.
They’re touring though, and that’s cool. Maybe this is when they decide they’re a real band after all. Maybe not. They were almost willfully casual about their formation, and I’m pretty sure these aren’t the first not-in-PA dates they’ve done, but it’s a tour either way and given the parties involved it likely won’t be the last.
Maybe three days from now they’ll post all the venues and whatnot, and I can’t promise I won’t do a follow-up to this at that time — can’t promise I will either; you’re perfectly capable of finding that information — but front-drummer-except-he’s-in-back Michael Rudolph Cummings (who also put out a solo record last year on Ripple) posted the following on socials with the poster and I happened to have a little time to think about how the band are cool. That time has now ended. On to the next thing.
Till then:
When Backwoods Payback went to hibernate, I don’t think Jess and I really knew what to do. We just wanted to play and have fun. Bionic Rylan deciding to pick up a guitar again around the same time just seemed to make this make sense.
I’m not a drummer, I just fill the gaps where needed.
A lot of these towns were Backwoods Payback mainstays. Can’t wait to see them again from a different part of the stage.
Full details next week, but for now, for this weekend… check your hands and study the lines.
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 16th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
A Boozewa recording? From a studio? Ohh, my medication… [faints].
That’s actually the story here. Boozewa recording in a studio. What studio? I don’t know. That studio could also be a living room for all I know, but even that would be up from the basement — stylistically if not literally speaking — which I’m pretty sure is where most of Boozewa‘s to-date output has been taped. Like, on a four-track. The will toward lo-fi sounds was part of the initial mission as Boozewa splintered off from the (presumed) (for-now at least) end of Backwoods Payback, in which the trio were all members, two of them founders, but if you’re thinking they’ve gone high-gloss for the new single “Maybe I’m a Bird” — it’s already printed on trucker hats; also, I invite you to take this moment to assess if, perhaps, you indeed are a bird — slow down.
While the fidelity of the three-minute song is a definite uptick from even 2021’s Developing Good Health EP (review here), we’re still well within the realm of rough-on-purpose. They’ve just given themselves more space in the mix for shenanigans, and they’ve got the shenanigans to fill it. It’s not streaming yet, but it’s a July 5 release, so I think we’ve got enough lead time, and until then, the PR wire has the background on the song. Thinking debut album, maybe? Does Boozewa put out records?
We’ll find out:
BOOZEWA Will Release New Single “Maybe I’m A Bird”
BOOZEWA is back and BOOZEWA-ier than ever! The basement dwelling sludgy punk outfit have crawled up from the underground to reveal their first single as the fully realized vision of BOOZEWA. Done in a studio, not the basement! “Maybe I’m A Bird” retains the low-fi vibes BOOZEWA is known for and is a chantable, danceable, fuzzy good ol’ time! The song will be released on July 5th 2023 on all streaming platforms.
BOOZEWA comments on the single: “Every day you have to go to work and there’s that one person there. That one person that’s always giving you a hard time. Always with the stink eye, always checking their watch to see if you were a minute late. We all know them. They are everywhere. When you see them tomorrow, make eye contact with them. Don’t break it. And let them know ‘HEY! You don’t know me. Maybe I’m A Bird!’”
Bringing a distinctive sound, BOOZEWA draws passionately from the heaviest of the heavy through to the mellowest of the mellow. Emphasized by their unusual recording method, the vintage touch produces a unique tone with a dynamic, atmospheric quality.
Coming at you live and direct from the Wegmans pharmacy counter where I’m waiting to pick up some pinkeye drops for my kid, who stayed home from half-day pre-k on Monday because the Quarterly Review isn’t complicated enough on its own. It was my diagnosis that called off the bus, later confirmed over telehealth, so at least I wasn’t wrong and shot my own day. I know this shit doesn’t matter to anyone — it’ll barely matter to me in half an hour — but, well, I don’t think I’ve ever written while waiting for a prescription before and I’m just stoned enough to think it might be fun to do so now.
Of course, by the time I’m writing the reviews below — tomorrow morning, as it happens — this scrip will have long since been ready and retrieved. But a moment to live through, just the same.
We hit halfway today. Hope your week’s been good so far. Mine’s kind of a mixed bag apart from the music, which has been pretty cool.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Yakuza, Sutra
Since it would be impossible anyway to encapsulate the scope of Yakuza‘s Sutra — the Chicago-based progressive psych-metal outfit led by vocalist/saxophonist Bruce Lamont, with Matt McClelland on guitar/backing vocals, Jerome Marshall on bass and James Staffel on drums/percussion — from the transcendental churn of “2is1” to the deadpan tension build in and noise rock payoff in “Embers,” the sax-scorch bass-punch metallurgical crunch of “Into Forever” and the deceptively bright finish of “Never the Less,” and so on, let’s do a Q&A. They still might grind at any moment? Yup, see “Burn Before Reading.” They still on a wavelength of their own? Oh most definitely; see “Echoes From the Sky,” “Capricorn Rising,” etc. Still underrated? Yup. It’s been 11 years since they released Beyul (review here). Still ahead of their time? Yes. Like anti-genre pioneers John Zorn or Peter Brötzmann turned heavy and metal, or like Virus or Voivod with their specific kind of if-you-know-you-know, cult-following-worthy individualist creativity, Yakuza weave through the consuming 53-minute procession of Sutra with a sensibility that isn’t otherworldly because it’s psychedelic or drenched in effects (though it might also be those things at any given moment), but because they sound like they come from another planet. A welcome return from an outfit genuinely driven toward the unique and a meld of styles beyond metal and/or jazz. And they’ve got a fitting home on Svart. I know it’s been over a decade, but I hope these dudes get old in this band.
The second offering from Philadelphia multi-instrumentalist Heath Rave (Altars of the Moon, former drums in Wolvhammer, etc.) under the banner of Lotus Thrones, the seven-song/38-minute The Heretic Souvenir (on Disorder and Seeing Red) draws its individual pieces across an aural divide by means of a stark atmosphere, the post-plague-and-the-plague-is-capitalism skulking groove of “B0T0XDR0NE$” emblematic both of perspective and of willingness to throw a saxophone overtop if the mood’s right (by Yakuza‘s Bruce Lamont, no less), which it is. At the outset, “Gore Orphanage” is more of an onslaught, and “Alpha Centauri” has room for both a mathy chug and goth-rocking shove, the latter enhanced by Rave‘s low-register vocals. Following the Genghis Tron-esque glitch-grind of 1:16 centerpiece “Glassed,” the three-and-a-half-minute “Roses” ups the goth factor significantly, delving into twisted Type O Negative-style pulls and punk-rooted forward thrust in a highlight reportedly about Rave‘s kid, which is nice (not sarcastic), before making the jump into “Autumn of the Heretic Souvenir,” which melds Americana and low-key dub at the start of its 11-minute run before shifting into concrete sludge chug and encompassing trades between atmospheric melody and outright crush until a shift eight minutes in brings stand(mostly)alone keys backed by channel-swapping electronic noise as a setup for the final surge’s particularly declarative riff. That makes the alt-jazz instrumental “Nautilus” something of an afterthought, but not out of place in terms of its noir ambience that’s also somehow indebted to Nine Inch Nails. There’s a cough near the end. See if you can hear it.
Realized at the formidable behest of Heavy Psych Sounds, the seventh installment of the Doom Sessions series (Vol. 8 is already out) brings together Sweden’s strongly cinematic sludge-doomers Endtime with fire-crackling North Carolinian woods-doomers Cosmic Reaper. With two songs from the former and three from the latter, the balance winds up with more of an EP feel from Cosmic Reaper and like a single with an intro from Endtime, who dedicate the first couple of minutes of “Tunnel of Life” to a keyboard intro that’s very likely a soundtrack reference I just don’t know because I’m horror-ignorant before getting down to riff-rumble-roll business on the righteously slow-raging seven minutes of “Beyond the Black Void.” Cosmic Reaper, meanwhile, have three cuts, with harmonized guitars entering “Sundowner” en route to a languid and melodic nod verse, a solo later answering the VHS atmosphere of Endtime before “Dead and Loving It” and “King of Kings” cult-doom their way into oblivion, the latter picking up a bit of momentum as it pushes near the eight-minute mark. It’s a little uneven, considering, but Doom Sessions Vol. 7 provides a showcase for two of Heavy Psych Sounds‘ up-and-coming acts, and that’s pretty clearly the point. If it leads to listeners checking out their albums after hearing it, mission accomplished.
Don’t skip this because of High Priest‘s generic-stoner-rock name. The Chicago four-piece of bassist/vocalist Justin Valentino, guitarists Pete Grossmann and John Regan and drummer Dan Polak make an awaited full-length debut with Invocation on Magnetic Eye Records, and if the label’s endorsement isn’t enough, I’ll tell you the eight-song/44-minute long-player is rife with thoughtful construction, melody and heft. Through the opening title-track and into the lumber, sweep and boogie of “Divinity,” they incorporate metal with the two guitars and some of the vocal patterning, but aren’t beholden to that anymore than to heavy rock, and far from unipolar, “Ceremony” gives a professional fullness of sound that “Cosmic Key” ups immediately to round out side A before “Down in the Park” hints toward heavygaze without actually tipping over, “Universe” finds the swing buried under that monolithic fuzz, “Conjure” offers a bluesier but still huge-sounding take and 7:40 closer “Heaven” layers a chorus of self-harmonizing Valentinos to underscore the point of how much the vocals add to the band. Which is a lot. What’s lost in pointing that out is just how densely weighted their backdrop is, and the nuance High Priest bring to their arrangements throughout, but whether you want to dig into that or just learn the words and sing along, you can’t lose.
Its catharsis laced in every stretch of the skin-peeling tremolo and echoing screams of “Altar of Liar,” Season Unknown arrives as the first release from Poland’s MiR, a directly-blackened spinoff of heavy psych rockers Spaceslug, whose guitarist/vocalist Bartosz Janik and bassist/vocalist Jan Rutka feature along with guitarist Michał Zieleniewski (71tonman) and drummer Krzystof Kamisiński (Burning Hands). The relationship to Janik and Rutka‘s other (main?) band is sonically tenuous, though Spaceslug‘s Kamil Ziółkowski also guests on vocals, making it all the more appropriate that MiR stands as a different project. Ripping and progressive in kind, cuts like “Lost in Vision” and the blastbeaten severity of “Ashen” are an in-genre rampage, and while “Sum of All Mourn” is singularly engrossing in its groove, the penultimate “Yesterday Rotten” comes through as willfully stripped to its essential components until its drifting finish, which is fair enough ahead of the more expansive closer “Illusive Loss of Inner Frame,” which incorporates trades between all-out gnash and atmospheric contemplations. I won’t profess to be an expert on black metal, but as a sidestep, Season Unknown is both respectfully bold and clearly schooled in what it wants to be.
Recorded by esteemed producer Martin Bisi (Swans, Sonic Youth, Unsane, etc.) in 2021-’22, Colder is Hiram-Maxim‘s third full-length, with hints of Angels of Light amid the sneering heaviness of “Bathed in Blood” after opener/longest track (immediate points) “Alpha” lays out the bleak atmosphere in which what follows will reside. “Undone” gets pretty close to laying on the floor, while “It Feels Good” very pointedly doesn’t for its three minutes of dug-in cafe woe, from out of which “Hive Mind” emerges with keys and drums forward in a moody verse before the post-punk urgency takes more complete hold en route to a finish of manipulated noise. As one would have to expect, “Shock Cock” is a rocker at heart, and the lead-in from the drone/experimental spoken word of “Time Lost Time” holds as a backdrop so that its Stooges-style comedown heavy is duly weirded out. Is that a theremin? Possibly. They cap by building a wall of malevolence and contempt with “Sick to Death” in under three minutes, resolving in a furious assault of kitchen-sink volume, that, yes, recedes, but is resonant enough to leave scratches on your arm. Don’t let anyone tell you this isn’t extreme music just because some dude isn’t singing about killing some lady or quoting a medical dictionary. Colder could just as easily have been called ‘Volcanic.’
Seeming always to be ready with a friendly, easy nod, Lafayette/Indianapolis, Indiana’s The Heavy Co. return with “Brain Dead” as a follow-up single to late-2022’s “God Damn, Jimmy.” The current four-piece incarnation of the band — guitarist/vocalist Ian Daniel, guitarist Jeff Kaleth, bassist Eric Bruce and drummer TR McCully — seem to be refocused from some of the group’s late-’10s departures, elements of outlaw country set aside in favor of a rolling riff with shades of familiar boogie in the start-stops beneath its solo section, a catchy but largely unassuming chorus, and a theme that, indeed, is about getting high. In one form or another, The Heavy Co. have been at it for most of the last 15 years, and in a little over four minutes they demonstrate where they want their emphasis to be — a loose, jammy feel held over from the riffout that probably birthed the song in the first place coinciding with the structure of the verses and chorus and a lack of pretense that is no less a defining aspect than the aforementioned riff. They know what they’re doing, so let ’em roll on. I don’t know if the singles are ahead of an album release or not, but whatever shows up whenever it does, The Heavy Co. are reliable in my mind and this is right in their current wheelhouse.
The intervening year since L.A.’s The Cimmerian made their debut with Thrice Majestic (review here) seems to have made the trio even more pummeling, as their Sword & Sorcery Vol. I two-songer finds them incorporating death and extreme metal for a feel like a combined-era Entombed on leadoff “Suffer No Guilt” which is a credit to bassist Nicolas Rocha‘s vocal burl as well as the intensity of riff from David Gein (ex-The Scimitar) and corresponding thrash gallop in David Morales‘ drumming. The subsequent “Inanna Rising” is slower, with a more open nod in its rhythm, but no less threatening, with fluid rolls of double-kick pushing the verse forward amid the growls and an effective scream, a sample of something (everything?) burning, and a kick in pace before the solo about halfway into the track’s 7:53. If The Cimmerian are growing more metal, and it seems they are, then the aggression suits them as the finish of “Inanna Rising” attests, and the thickness of sludge carried over in their tonality assures that the force of their impact is more than superficial.
Released as an offering from the amorphous Hungarian collective Psychedelic Source Records, the three-song Protoaeolianism arrives under the moniker of Nepaal — also stylized as :nepaal, with the colon — finding mainstay Bence Ambrus on guitar with Krisztina Benus on keys, Dávid Strausz on bass, Krisztián Megyeri on drums and Marci Bíró on effects/synth for captured-in-the-moment improvisations of increasing reach as space and psych and krautrocks comingle with hypnotic pulsations on “Innoxial Talent Parade” (9:54), the centerpiece “Brahman Sleeps 432 Billion Years” (19:14) and “Ineffable Minor States” (13:44), each of which has its arc of departure, journey and arrival, forming a multi-stage narrative voyage that’s as lush as the liquefied tones and sundry whatever-that-was noises. “Ineffable Minor States” is so serene in its just-guitar start that the first time I heard it I thought the song had cut off, but no. They’re just taking their time, and why shouldn’t they? And why shouldn’t we all take some time to pause, engage mindfully with our surroundings, experience or senses one at a time, the things we see, hear, touch, taste, smell? Maybe Protoaeolianism — instrumental for the duration — is a call to that. Maybe it’s just some jams from jammers and I shouldn’t read anything else into it. Here then, as in all things, you choose your own adventure. I’m glad to be the one to tell you this is an adventure worth taking.
There is much to dig into on the second full-length from Toledo, Ohio, duo Hope Hole — the returning parties of Matt Snyder and Mike Mulholland — who offer eight originals and a centerpiece cover of The Cure‘s “Sinking” that’s not even close to being the saddest thing on the record, titled Beautiful Doom presumably in honor of the music itself. Leadoff “Spirits on the Radio” makes me nostalgic for a keyboard-laced goth glory day that never happened while also tapping some of mid-period Anathema‘s abiding downer soul, seeming to speak to itself as much as the audience with repetitions of “You reap what you sew.” Some Godflesh surfaces in “600 Years,” and they’re resolute in the melancholy of “Common Sense” until the chugging starts, like a dirtier, underproduced Crippled Black Phoenix. Rolling with deceptive momentum, the title-track could be acoustic until it starts with the solo and electronic beats later before shifting into the piano, beats, drift guitar, and so on of “Sinking.” “Chopping Me” could be an entire band’s sound but it’s barely a quarter of what Hope Hole have to say in terms of aesthetic two records deep. “Mutant Dynamo” duly punks its arthouse sludge and shreds a self-aware over-the-top solo in the vein of Brendan Small, while “Pyrokinetic” revives earlier goth swing with a gruff biker exterior (I’d watch that movie) and a moment of spinning weirdo triumph at the end, almost happy to be burned, where the seven-minute finale “Cities of Gold” returns to beats over its gradual guitar start, emerging with chanting vocals to become its own declaration of progressive intent. Beautiful Doom ends with a steady march rather than the expected blowout, having built its gorgeous decay out of the same rotten Midwestern ground as the debut — 2021’s Death Can Change (review here) — but moved unquestionably forward from it.
Didn’t we just do this? Yeah, kind of. It’s been a weird season, but I knew last month when I launched the Spring 2023 Quarterly Review that it needed to be more than two full weeks and given the timing of everything else slated around then and now, this is what worked to make it happen. For what it’s worth, I have QRs scheduled for July and early October, subject to change, of course.
The bottom line either way is it’s another batch of 50 reviews this week and then that’s a wrap for Spring. It’s a constant barrage of music these days anyhow, and I’m forever behind on everything, but I hope at least you can find something here you dig, whether previously familiar or not. We go.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
HIGH LEAF, Vision Quest
An awaited debut from this Philadelphia heavy rock scene outfit, HIGH LEAF‘s Vision Quest makes its home among heavy tropes (also some minute cultural appropriation in the title) with unabashed glee and deceptively sharp songwriting. Certainly opener “Green Rider” is perfectly willing to beat you over the head with its chorus — and rightly so, you have it coming — but the spacious title-track that follows stretches over eight minutes and seamlessly works through drift and heavy psych impulses to get to the post-grunge roll that makes its increasingly aggro presence known past six minutes in, and that’s by no means the final bit of sludge to be had as the later “Hard to Find” leans toward nastiness only to be offset by the funky outset of “Painted Desert,” having pushed deeper from the Kyussery of “Dead Eye” and a swagger in “Subversive” worthy of comparison to Earthride. This lineup of the band has already split (there’s a new one, no worries), and how that reboot will affect HIGH LEAF going forward obviously remains to be seen, but this is a ‘serving notice’-type debut, doubling down on that in closing duo “March to the Grave” and “The Rot,” and the eight songs and 38 minutes commune with groove and riffs like they’ve been speaking the language the whole time. There’s definitely a vision at work. Let’s see where the quest takes them.
Fucking hell I wish this was what the future sounded like. It rocks. It’s interesting. It’s driven to be its own thing despite traceable roots. It’s got edge but it’s not hackneyed. It’s the tomorrow we were promised when industrial rock and metal became a thing in the 1990s and that corporate alt-everything and pop-punk usurped. I knew I wanted to write about it now, because it’s coming out now, but I’ll tell you honestly, I’ve barely scratched the surface of JAAW‘s Svart-issued debut, Supercluster — recorded at Bear Bites Horse in London by Wayne Adams, who’s also in the band alongside Andy Cairns of Therapy?, Mugstar‘s Jason Stoll and Adam Betts (of Squarepusher and others) — and this is the kind of album that’s going to be years in revealing itself. How about this? Sometime in 2028, if this site is still here, I’ll follow-up and let you know what I’ve found digging into the sinister groove of “Rot” or the shout-kraut rumble and noise of “Bring Home the Motherlode, Barry,” “The Dead Drop” going from minimalism to full heavy New Wave wash in five minutes’ time, and so on, but for right now, let it serve as the cannonball to be lobbed at anyone who says there aren’t any acts out there doing new things or pushing different styles forward, because hell’s bells, that’s the only place this goes even as it also seems to go everywhere at the same time, unto closing out with a Björk cover “Army of Me” as imagined by Ministry doing ’90s drum ‘n’ bass. Some things are just bigger than the year of their release, and I look forward to living with this record.
The Bridesmaid, Come on People Now, Smile on Your Brother
From the opening drone-and-toy-chime-forward over industrial black metal of “Leytonstone: Eat Your Landlord” through the sample-fed machine sludge-turned-psych experimentalism that gives way to a shimmering haze of jazz metal in “Cleveland: And the Rain Came Down” and the can’t-fool-me-by-now acoustic strum at the start of “Summerland: A Long, Maintenance-Free Life” that runs a current of cello under its aural collage and low-end lumber early only to bask in news-and-drone departure with percussion later on the way to what post-hardcore could still someday be, the name of the EP is Come on People Now, Smile on Your Brother and The Bridesmaid deliver the proceedings in a manner more suited to Kurt Cobain‘s fuckall rasp of that line rather than the Youngbloods original. So it’s probably the latter. In any case, the UK solo-plus-friends outfit helmed and steered by JJ Saddington are an aural barrage, and while the temptation is to think of the three-song/21-minute offering as a blender on liquefy, the truth is the material is more thought out, more considerately mixed, and more engaging, than that kind of spastic randomness implies. If you can keep up with the changes, the adventure of listening is well worth the ankles sprained in its twists, but you should go into it knowing that the challenge is part of the appeal.
If the hard push and tonal burl of comparatively straight-ahead opener “The Last Witch” aren’t convincing, stick around through “Celestial Bird Spirit” and “Impermanence” on the rest of side A before you resolve one way or the other as regards Milana‘s debut album, Milvus. The Mallorca-based four-piece are for sure in conversation with fest-ready modern European heavy rock, and that’s the thread that weaves throughout the album, but in the 11-minute “Impermanance,” they build on the more temperate rollout of “Celestial Bird Spirit” and find an intriguing blend of atmosphere and dense fuzz, more moody than psychedelic, but smart to hold back its weightiest tonality for the rolling end. Appropriately enough, “Lucid Reality” brings them back to ground at the start of side B, but still has an atmospheric effect in its verse, with vocal layering over open-spaced guitar and an alt-rock pickup as they move toward the chorus, and Howling Wolf gives a class-conscious definition of the blues, in the long intro of “Gray City Lights,” setting a difficult standard for the rest of the song to match, but the organ helps. And all seems well and fine for “Whispering Wind” to wrap up mirroring the rocker “The Last Witch” at the start until the song breaks, the harmony starts, and then the growls and massive fuzz start in the last minute and it turns out they were metal all along. Go figure. There’s growing to do, but there’s more happening on Milvus than one listen will tell you, and that in itself is a good sign.
Swedish upstart four-piece New Mexican Doom Cult offer a distinctly Monolordian weep of lead guitar on “Seven Spirits,” but even that is filtered through the band’s own take, and that’s true of their first full-length, Necropolis more generally, as the Gävle outfit now comprised of guitarist/vocalist/principal songwriter Nils Ahnland, guitarist Johan Klyven Kvastegård, bassist Emil Alstermark and drummer Jonathan Ekvall present seven songs and 48 minutes of dug-in rockers, distortion keyed to its fuzziest degree as Ahnland hints vocally on “Underground” toward a root in darker and more metallic fare ahead of the chugging build that rounds out the eight-minute centerpiece title-track and the make-doom-swing ethic being followed in closer “Worship the Sun.” “Vortex” is a highlight for the melody as much as the double-dose of nodfuzz guitar work, and opener “Architect” sets an atmospheric course but assures that the sense of movement is never really gone, something that’s a benefit even to the righteous Sabbath blowout verse in the penultimate “Archangel.” Much of what they’re doing will be familiar to experienced heads, but not unwelcome for that.
Capable double-guitar heavy rock pervades the 43-minute Gentle Beast by the Swiss five-piece of the same name. Mixed by Jeff Henson of Duel and issued through Sixteentimes Music, the eight-song run is defined by knowing itself as stoner rock, and that remains true as “Super Sapiens” departs into its post-midsection jam, eventually returning to the chorus, which is almost unfortunately hooky. “Greedy Man” is almost purely Kyuss in its constructed pairing of protest and riff, but the “Caterpillar” shows a different side of the band’s character in its smooth volume shifts, winding leads and understated finish, leading into the sharper-edged outset of closer “Toxic Times.” In the forward thrust of “Joint Venture,” the opener “Asteroid Miner” with its gruff presentation, and the speedier swing of “Headcage” reinforcing the vocal reference to Samsara Blues Experiment in the leadoff, Gentle Beast tick all the boxes they need to tick for this debut long-player some four years after the band’s initial 7″ single, setting up multiple avenues of possible and hopeful progression while proving dexterous songwriters in the now. Won’t change your life, but isn’t trying to convince you it will, either.
Denver four-piece Bloodsports — also stylized all-lowercase: bloodsports — give a heavygaze impression with “Sky Mall” at the launch of their self-titled debut EP that the subsequent “Crimp” gleefully pulls the rug right from under with a solo section like All Them Witches grew up listening to The Cure after its Weezery verse, and the proceedings only gets grungier from there with the low-key Nirvana brooding of “Sustain” (also issued in 2022 as a standalone single) and its larger-scale, scorch-topped distorted finish and the shaker-inclusive indie ritual that is “Carnival” until it explodes into a blowout ending like the release of tension everyone always wanted but never actually got from Violent Femmes. Some noisy skronk guitar finishes over the hungover fuzz, which is emblematic of the way the entire release — only 11 minutes long, mind you — derives its character from the negative space, from its smaller moments of nuance, as well as from its fuller-sounding stretches. They’re young and they sound it, but there’s a sonic ideal being chased through the material and Bloodsports may yet carve their aural persona from that chase. As it is, the emotive aspects on display in “Sustain” and the volatility shown in the roll of “Sky Mall” make in plain that this project has places it wants to go and areas to explore, and one hopes Bloodsports continue to bring their ideas together with such fluidity.
Recorded seemingly almost entirely live on audio and video, vibrancy would seem to be the underpinning that draws Night Fishing‘s Live Bait together, if fishing isn’t. The Denver four-piece are a relatively new formation, with guitarists Graham Zander (also Green Druid) and Zach Amster (Abrams), bassist Justin Sanderson (Muscle Beach) and drummer Gordon Koch (Call of the Void) all coming together from their sundry other projects to explore a space between the kosmiche, heavy rock and semi-improv jamming. The turns and fills and crashes that round out the second of three cuts, “No Services,” for example, feel off-the-cuff, but throughout most of “Alone With My Thoughts” and at least in the initial Slift-like shuffle at the start of “Slapback Twister,” there’s a plan at work. At 25 minutes, they’re only about a song shy of making Live Bait a full-length — though another track might mess up the shortest-to-longest and alphabetical ordering Live Bait has now, which are fun — but the instrumentalist exploration is suited to the nascent feel of the outfit, and while I don’t think Night Fishing is anybody’s only band here, if they can build on the sense of purpose they give to the jangly rhythm and airy solo of “Slapback Twister” and the right-on push of “Alone With My Thoughts,” they can make their records as long or as short as they want and they’re still bound to catch ears.
Following last year’s self-titled debut EP, Indianapolis solo-project Wizard Tattoo cuts itself open and bleeds DIY on the seven songs and 40 minutes of the self-recorded, self-released Fables of the Damned, beginning with distinct moments of departure in opener “Wizard Van” and “The Black Mountain Pass,” the latter of which returns to its gutted-out chorus with maestro Bram the Bard (who also did the cover) cutting through the tonescape of his own creation to underscore the structure at work. There are stories to be told in “The Vengeful Thulsa Dan” and the folkish “Any Which Way but Tuned,” which brings together acoustics and chanting like a gamer version of Wovenhand, deep-mixed tom thud peppered throughout while the chimes are more forward, while the seven-minute “The Ghost of Doctor Beast” picks up with the slowest and most doomed of the included rollouts, “God Damn This Wizard Tattoo” ups the tempo with a catchy chorus, a little bit of mania in the hi-hat under the guitar solo, and hints dropped in the bassline of the grunge aspects soon to be highlighted in instrumental closer “Abendrote.” The sense of character is bigger than the production, and that balance is something that will need to be ironed out over time, but the dug-in curio aspects of Fables of the Damned make it engaging, whatever it may or may not lead toward.
I’ll never claim to be anything more than a dilettante when it comes to noise rock, and I’ll tell you outright that Kansas City’s Nerver are new to me as of this Brothers in Christ split with Oklahoma City’s Chat Pile, but both acts are coming from a strong Midwestern tradition of post-industrial (talking economy not genre) disaffection and building on momentum from strong 2022 releases, those being Nerver‘s even-the-CD-sold-out (aha! but not from the label! got it!) sophomore full-length CASH and Chat Pile‘s much-lauded debut, God’s Country (review here), and the scream-topped bombast of the one and volatile emotive antipoetry of the other make fitting companions across the included four songs, as Nerver‘s “Kicks in the Sky” underscores its jabs with deep low rumble as a bed for the harshly delivered verse and “The Nerve” shoves itself faceward in faster and less angular fashion, consuming like Chicago post-metal but pissed off like Midwestern hardcore while Chat Pile build through “King” en route to the panicked slaughter of “Cut,” which is sure enough to trigger fight-or-flight in your brain before its sub-five-minute run is up. Neither arrives at this point without hype behind them, both would seem to have earned it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go put on that Nerver album and play a bit of catchup.
