Posted in Whathaveyou on January 24th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Look at the blue text below and you know what you’re gonna see? Yes, a whole lot of skull emojis. Like a lot. But it happens that each individual one corresponds to a demonstration of the labor of love and community that is the Maryland Doom Festival. From Abel Blood through Zekiah, Maryland Doom Fest 2024 celebrates its 10th anniversary edition with its standard sans-bullshit glut of heavy. Once more the Frederick-based event looks your square in the eye, drops for absolutely immersive days on you and asks if you’re up for it. Well, are ya?
I’m not sure what my summer travel plans are yet — this and Freak Valley have overlapped the last couple years for me — but it’s been since 2019 that I was last down there and oh I’d be so eager to show up and have the three or four people who recognize me (and thus make it feel like an absolute family experience; love love love everywhere you go down there) quietly think to themselves I’ve gotten older and fatter en route to obliterating myself with volume for about 96 hours straight. Fuck. King. A.
Oh, and I hear Thunderbird Divine have new stuff in the works and it’s amazing. So that’s a thing too.
Social media had it like this:
We are super stoked to share with you the Maryland Doom Fest 2024 rosters, schedules, and lineups!!!
#4daysofdoom
THE MARYLAND DOOM FEST 2024
โ๏ธThursday June 20
Cafe 611-
๐ Thunderhorse 1115-1230 ๐ The Magpie 1010-1055 ๐ Born of Plagues 905-950 ๐ Stone Nomads 800-845 ๐ Pyre Fyre 700-740 ๐ Dirt Eater 600-640
Olde Mother Brewery-
๐ Spellbook 920-1000 ๐ Strange Highways 820-900 ๐ Bailjack 720-800 ๐ Stone Brew 620-700 ๐ Abel Blood 520-600
๐ Ten Ton Slug 915-1000 ๐ Thousand Vision Mist 815-855 ๐ Crowhunter 715-755 ๐ Asthma Castle 615-655 ๐ Bonded by Darkness 515-555
โ๏ธSaturday June 22
Cafe 611-
๐ WHORES. 1150-115 ๐ AGE/S 1040-1130 ๐ Bloodshot 935-1020 ๐ O ZORN! 830-915 ๐ Double Planet 730-810 ๐ Sun Years 630-710 ๐ When the Deadbolt Breaks 530-610
Olde Mother Brewery-
๐ Black Water Rising 915-1000 ๐ Switchblade Jesus 815-855 ๐ Wyndrider 715-755 ๐ Indus Valley Kings 615-655 ๐ Vermillion Whiskey 515-555 ๐ Doctor Smoke 415-455
โ๏ธSunday June 23
Cafe 611-
๐ Cirith Ungol 1200-110 ๐ Mythosphere 1055-1140 ๐ Conclave 955-1035 ๐ Compression 855-935 ๐ Sons of Arrakis 755-835 ๐ Curse the Son 655-735 ๐ Kulvera 555-635 ๐ Old Blood 500-535 ๐ Cloud Machine 405-440
Olde Mother Brewery-
๐ Thunderbird Divine 920-1000 ๐ Black Manta 820-900 ๐ High Noon Kahuna 720-800 ๐ Unity Reggae 620-700 ๐ King Bastard 520-600 ๐ Zekiah 420-500
52 bands over a 4 day weekend at 2 venues across the street from one another!! #4daysofdoom
Posted in Whathaveyou on November 1st, 2023 by JJ Koczan
With headlining performances slated from a soon-to-retireย Cirith Ungol, noise crushersย Whores., mostly-local melodic heavy proggers Mythosphere,ย Switchblade Jesus,ย Conclave,ย Ten Ton Slug (from Ireland; I got to see them one time; way burly; they’ll do well in Frederick), and plenty of other returning acts and newcomers alike, the lineup for Maryland Doom Festย 2024 could hardly be more appropriate a celebration of the annual Chesapeake gathering’s 10th anniversary. Based in Frederick, the four-day ultra-consuming sensory assault of volume will once again take place atย Cafe 611 andย Olde Mother Brewing, and if you’ve never been, I’ll tell you outright there’s nothing quite like it.
I mean that.ย Maryland Doom Fest goes harder than the average festival. A day might start at 1PM and not end until 2AM. And now more than ever, as the fest has grown with the two venues running alongside each other, the bill is packed. I think this year was 50 bands? Well, they’ve got 52 for 2024, and while next June is a while out, there’s a tradition to uphold of Halloween announcements, and festival honchoย JB Matson (Bloodshot, War Injun,ย Outside Truth, etc.) pays tribute to his regulars —ย Shadow Witch,ย Bailjack,ย Thunderbird Divine, Thousand Vision Mist (congratulations toย Danny Kenyon ofย Thousand Vision Mist on recently kicking cancer’s ass), among others here — while also giving showcase to outfits likeย Pyre Fyre,ย O Zorn! (whose very moniker heralds weirdness),ย WyndRider and more.
Congrats toย Matson and all atย Maryland Doom Fest on their 10th anniversary. To do something of this scope once is a lot. To do it across 10 years, well, aside from being fucking crazy, it’s also deeply admirable.
The aforementioned announcement — brief as ever; the poster lands heavy enough to cover any lack of verbiage — follows, courtesy of socials. Ticket link is there too:
WE ARE EXTREMELY PLEASED TO PRESENT TO YOU, THE MARYLAND DOOM FEST 2024 LINEUP!!!!! THIS WILL BE OUR 10 YEAR ANNIVERSARY CELEBRATION!! (#128128#)(#129304#)(#128128#)
52 bands over a 4 day weekend at 2 venues across the street from one another!! #4daysofdoom
Ah, a Quarterly Review Wednesday. Always a special occasion. Monday starts out with a daunting look at the task ahead. Tuesday is all digging in and just not trying to repeat myself too much. Wednesday, traditionally, is where we hit the halfway point. The top of the hill.
Not the case this time since I’ll have 10 records each written up next Monday and Tuesday, but crossing the midpoint of this week alone feels like an accomplishment and you’ll pardon me if I mark it as such. If you’re wondering how the rest of the week will go, tomorrow is all-business and Friday’s usually a party one way or the other. My head gets so in it by the middle of next week I’ll be surprised not to be doing this anymore. So it goes.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Khanate, To Be Cruel
Who among mortals could hope to capture the horrors of Khanate in simple words? The once-New York-based avant sludge ultragroup end a 14-year hiatus with To Be Cruel, a fourth album, comprising three songs running between 19-21 minutes each that breed superlative hatefulness. At once overwhelming and minimalist, with opener “Like a Poisoned Dog” placing the listener in a homemade basement dungeon with the sharp, disaffection-incarnate bark of Alan Dubin (also Gnaw) cutting through the weighted slog in the guitar of Stephen O’Malley (also SunnO))), et al), the bass of James Plotkin (more than one can count, and he probably also mastered your band’s record) and the noise free-jazz drumming of Tim Wyskida (Blind Idiot God, etc.), they retain the disturbing brilliance last heard from in 2009’s Clean Hands Go Foul (discussed here) and are no less caustic for the intervening years. “It Wants to Fly” is expansive and wretched death poetry set to drone doom, a ritual made of its own misery, and the concluding title-track goes quiet in its midsection as though to let every wrenching anguish have its own space in the song. There is no one like them, though many have tried to convey some of what apparently only Khanate can. As our plague-infested, world-burning, war-making, fear-driven species plunges further into this terrible century, Khanate is the soundtrack we earn. We are all complicit. All guilty.
Though plenty atmospheric besides, Vancouver heavy fuzz rockers Space Queen add atmosphere to their nine-song/26-minute Nebula EP through a series of four interludes: the a capella three-part harmonies of “Deluge,” the acoustic-strummed “Veil” and “Sun Interlude,” and the finishing manipulated space-command sample in “End Transmission” after the richly melodic doom rock of “Transmission/Lost Causemonaut.” That penultimate inclusion is the longest at 6:14 and tells a story in a way that feels informed by the three-piece of drummer/vocalist Karli MacIntosh, guitarist/vocalist Jenna Earle and bassist/keyboardist/vocalist Seah Maister‘s past in the folk outfit Sound of the Sun, but transposes its melodic sensibility into a heavier context. It and the prior garage-psych highlight “When it Gets Light” — a lighter initial electric strum that arrives in willful-seeming contrast to “Darkest Part” immediately preceding — depart from the more straight-ahead push of opener “Battle Cry” and the guitar-screamer “Demon Queen” separated from it by the first interlude. Where those two come across as working with Alice in Chains as a defining influence — something the folk elements don’t necessarily argue against — the Nebula EP grows broader as it moves through its brief course, and flows throughout with its veering into and out of songs and short pieces. This is Space Queen‘s second EP, and if they’re interested in making a full-length next, they sound ready.
Fasano, Italy’s King Potenaz debut on Argonauta Records with Goat Rider, which conjures raw fuzz, garage-doom atmospherics, and vocals that edge toward aggression and classic cave metal, early Venom or Celtic Frost having a role to play even alongside the transposition of Kyuss riffing taking place in the title-track, which follows “Among Ruins” and “Pyramids Planet,” both of which featured on the trio’s 2022 Demo 6:66, and which set a tone of riff-led revelry here with a sound that reminds of turn-of-the-century era stoner explorations, but grows richer as it moves into “Pazuzu (3:33)” — it’s actually 5:18 — with guest vocals from Sabilla and the quiet three-minute instrumental “Cosmic Voyager” planet-caravanning into the 51-minute album’s second half, where “Moriendoom (La Ballata di Ippolita Oderisi)” and the even doomier “Monolithic” dig into cultish vibes and set up the bleak shuffle of nine-minute closer “Dancing Plague,” departing from its central ’90s-heavy riff into a mellow-psych movement and then returning from that outward stretch to end. Even at its most familiar, Goat Rider finds some way to harness an individual edge, cleverly using the mix itself as an instrument to create the space in which the songs dwell. It may take a few listens to sink in, but there’s real potential in what they’re doing.
With the release of their third album, New World Hoarder, German art-sludgers Treedeon celebrate their first decade as a band. The combined vinyl-with-CD follows 2018’s Under the Manchineel (review here) and proffers raw cosmic doom in “Omega Time Bomb,” crossing the 10-minute line for the first time after the particularly-agonized opener “Nutcrรจme Superspreader” and before the title-track’s nodding riff brings bassist Yvonne Ducksworth to the fore vocally, trading off with guitarist Arne Heesch as drummer Andy Schรผnemann crashes cyclically behind. “New World Hoarder” gives over to side B opener “Viking Meditation Song,” which rolls like an evil-er version of Goatsnake, and “RHV1,” on which Heesch and Ducksworth share vocal duties, as they also do in 12-minute closer “Lรคderlappen” — a shouting duet in the first half feels long in arriving, but that’s how you know the album works — as the band cap with more massive chug following an interplay of melody and throatier fare. They’re right to ride that groove, as they’re right about so much else on the record. Like much of what Exile on Mainstream puts out, Treedeon are stylistically intricate and underrated in kind.
There are a couple different angles of approach one might take in hearing Orsak:Oslo‘s In Irons full-length. The Norway/Sweden-based instrumental troupe have been heretofore lumped in with heavy post-rock and ambient soundscaping, which is fair enough, but what they actually unveil in “068 The Swell” (premiered here), is a calming interpretation of space rock. With experimentalism on display in its late atmospheric drone comedown, “068 The Swell” moves directly into the more physical “079 Dutchman’s Wake (Part I),” the languid boogie feeling modern in presentation and classic in construction and the chemistry between the members of the band. The drums sit out much of the first half of “069 In What Way Are You Different,” giving a sense of stillness to the drone there, but the song embraces a bigger feel toward its finish, and that sets up the feedback intro to “078 The Mute (Part II),” which veers dreamily between amplifier drone and complementary melodic guitar flourish. Taking 17 minutes to do it, they close with “074 Hadal Blue,” which more broadly applies the space-chill of “068 The Swell” and emphasizes flow and organic changes from one part to the next. Immersive, it would be one to get lost in if it weren’t so satisfying to pay attention.
Fuck. Yes. As much grind as sludge as electronics-infused hardcore as it is furious, unadulterated noise, the 12-song/50-minute onslaught that is Boss Blades arrives via Modern Grievance at the behest of Jon Weisnewski, also of Sandrider, formerly of Akimbo. If Weisnewski‘s name alone and the fact that Matt Bayles mixed the self-recorded debut LP aren’t enough to pull you into the tornado of violence and maddening brood that opener “Boss Blades” uses to open — extra force provided by one of two guest vocal spots from Dave Verellen of Botch; the other is on “Lasers in the Jungle” later on — then perhaps the seven-minute semi-industrial march of “Obsolete Food” or the bruising intensity of “Poorly Made Pots” or the minute and a half of sample-topped drone psych in “Guitart,” the extreme prog metal of “Eat Meth” or “Manifest Piss Tape” will do the trick, or the nine-minute near-centerpiece “Many Knives” (which, if there’s a Genghis Tron influence here generally — and there might be — is more the last record than the older stuff) with its slow keyboard unfolding as a backdrop for Dust Moth‘s Irene Barber to make her own guest appearance, plenty of post-everything cacophony mounting by the end, grandiose and consuming. I could go on — every track is a new way to die — but suffice it to say that this is what my brain sounds like when my kid and my wife are talking to me about different things at the same time and it feels like my skull is on fire and I have an aneurysm and keel over. Good wins.
Sometimes harsh but always free, 2022’s Chapter 4 from Croatian instrumentalist double-guitar five-piece Mycena — guitarists Marin Mitiฤ and Pavle Bojaniฤ, bassist Karlo Cmrk, drummer Igor Vidakoviฤ and synthesist/noisemaker Aleksandar Vrhovec — brings three tracks that are distinct unto themselves but listed as part of the same entirety, dubbed “Dissolution” and divided into “Dissolution Part 1” (17:49), “Dissolution Part 2” (3:03), and “Dissolution Part 3” (18:11), and it may well be that what’s being dissolved is the notion that rock and roll must be confined to verse/chorus structuring. Invariably, Earthless are a comparison point for longform instrumental heavy anything, and given the shred in “Dissolution Part 1” around five minutes deep and the torrent rockblast in the first half of “Dissolution Part 3” before it melts to near-silence and quietly noodles its way through its somehow-dub-informed last 11 or so minutes, building in presence but not actually blowing up to full volume as it caps. While totaling a manageable 39 minutes, Chapter 4 is a journey nonetheless, with a scope that comes through even in “Dissolution Part 2,” which may just be an interlude but still carries a steady rhythm that seems to reorient the band ahead of their diving into the extended final part, the band sounding natural in making changes that would undo acts with less chemistry.
Filthy tone. Just absolutely nasty. Atlanta’s Bog Monkey tracked Hollow, their self-released debut LP, with Jay Matheson at The Jam Room in South Carolina, and if they ever go anywhere else to try to capture their sound I’d have to ask why. With seven cuts totaling 33 minutes play-time and fuzz-sludge blowouts a-plenty in “Facemint,” the blastbeaten “Blister” and the heads-down largesse-minded shove-off-the-cliff that is “Slither” at a whopping 2:48, Hollow transposes Conan-style shouted vocals on brash, thickened heavy, the bass in “Tunnel” and forward-charging leadoff “Crow” with its thrash-riffing hook is the source of the heft, but it’s not alone. Spacious thanks to echoes on the vocals, Hollow crushes just the same, and as the trio plunder toward the eight-minute “Soma” at the end, growing intense quickly out of a calmer intro jam and slamming their message home circa 3:40 with crashes that break to bass and guitar noise to establish the nod around which the ending will be based, all you can really do is look forward to the bludgeoning to come and be glad when it arrives. Don’t be fooled by their generic name, or the silly stoner rock art (which I’m not knocking; it being silly is part of the point). Bog Monkey bring together different styles in a way that’s thoughtful and make songs that sound like they just rose out of the water to fucking obliterate you. So go on. Be obliterated.
Punkish in its choruses like the title-track or opener “Sports,” the four-song Dead Nature EP from South Africa’s The Man Motels is the latest in a string of short releases and singles going back to their 2018 full-length, Quit Looking at Me!, and they temper the urgency of their speediest parts with grunge-style melody and instrumental twists. Bass and drums at the base of “Young Father” set up the sub-three-minute closer as purely punk, but sure enough the guitar kicks in coming out of the verse and one can hear the Nirvana effect before it drops out again. Whether it’s a common older-school hardcore influence, I don’t know, but “Sports” and “Young Father” remind of a rawer Fu Manchu with their focus on structure, but “The Fever” is heavier indie rock and culminates in a tonally satisfying apex before cutting back to the main riff that’s led the way for… oh, about three minutes or so. All told, The Man Motels are done in 15 minutes, but they pack a fair amount into that time and they named the release after its catchiest installment, so there. Maybe not the kind of thing I’d always reach for in my own listening habits, but I’m not about to rag on a band for being good at what they do or showcasing their material with the kind of energy The Man Motels put into Dead Nature.
With a couple short(er) outings to their credit, Bayonne, New Jersey, three-piece Pyre Fyre present seven songs in the 18 minutes of their self-titled, which just might be enough to make it a full-length. Hear me out. They start raw with “Hypnotize,” more of a song than an intro, punkish and the shortest piece at 1:22. From there, the Melvins meet Earthride on “Flood Zone” and the range of shenanigans is unveiled. Produced by drummer/noisemaker Mike Montemarano, with Dylan Wheeler on guitar, Dan Kirwan on bass and vocals from all three in its hithers and yons, it is a barebones sound across the board, but Pyre Fyre give a sense of digging in despite that, with the echo-laced “Wyld Ryde” doled out like garage thrash, while “Dungeon Duster/Ice Storm” sounds like it was recorded in two different sessions and maybe it was and screw you if that matters, “Don’t Drink the Water” hits the brakes and dooms out with stoner-drawl vocals later, “Arachnophobia” dips into a darker, somehow more metal, mood, and the fuzzy “Cordyceps” ends with swagger and noise alike in just under two and a half minutes. All of this is done without pretense, without the band pausing to celebrate themselves or what they just accomplished. They get in, kick ass, get out again. You don’t want to call it an album? Fine. I respectfully disagree, but we can still be friends. What, you thought because it was the internet I was going to tell you to screw off? Come on now.
Here begins day two of 10. I don’t know at what point it occurred to me to load up the Quarterly Review with killer stuff to make it, you know, more pleasant than having it only be records I feel like I should be writing about, but I’m intensely glad I did.
Seems like a no brainer, right? But the internet is dumb, and it’s so easy to get caught up in what you see on social media, who’s hyping what, and the whole thing is driven by this sad, cloying FOMO that I despise even as I participate. If you’re ever in a situation to let go of something so toxic, even just a little bit and even just in your own head — which is where it all exists anyhow — do it. And if you take nothing else from this 100-album Quarterly Review besides that advice, it won’t be a loss.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Magnatar, Crushed
Can’t say they don’t deliver. The eight-song/38-minute Crushed is the debut long-player from Manchester, New Hampshire’s Magnatar, and it plays to the more directly aggressive side of post-metallic riffing. There are telltale quiet stretches, to be sure, but the extremity of shouts and screams in opener “Dead Swan” and in the second half of “Crown of Thorns” — the way that intensity becomes part of the build of the song as a whole — is well beyond the usual throaty fare. There’s atmosphere to balance, but even the 1:26 “Old” bends into harsh static, and the subsequent “Personal Contamination Through Mutual Unconsciousness” bounces djent and post-hardcore impulses off each other before ending up in a mega-doom slog, the lyric “Eat shit and die” a particular standout. So it goes into “Dragged Across the Surface of the Sun,” which is more even, but on the side of being pissed off, and “Loving You Was Killing Me” with its vastly more open spaces, clean vocals and stretch of near-silence before a more intense solo-topped finish. That leaves “Crushed” and “Event Horizon” to round out, and the latter is so heavy it’s barely music and that’s obviously the idea.
Three longform cosmic rock excursions comprise Wild Rocket‘s Formless Abyss — “Formless Abyss” (10:40), “Interplanetary Vibrations” (11:36) and “Future Echoes” (19:41) — so lock in your harness and be ready for when the g-forces hit. If the Dubliners have tarried in following-up 2017’s Disassociation Mechanics (review here), one can only cite the temporal screwing around taking place in “Interplanetary Vibrations” as a cause — it would be easy to lose a year or two in its depths — never mind “Future Echoes,” which meets the background-radiation drone of the two inclusions prior with a ritualized heft and slow-unfurling wash of distortion that is like a clarion to Sagan-headed weirdos. A dark-matter nebula. You think you’re freaked out now? Wild Rocket speak their own language of sound, in their own time, and Formless Abyss — while not entirely without structure — has breadth enough to make even the sunshine a distant memory.
An awaited debut full-length from Brooklyn multimedia artist/producer Brandon Gallagher, Trace Amount‘s Anti Body Language sees release through Greg Puciato‘s Federal Prisoner imprint and collects a solid 35 minutes of noise-laced harsh industrial worldbreaking. Decay anthems. A methodical assault begins with “Anxious Awakenings” and moving through “Anti Body Language” and “Eventually it Will Kill Us All,” the feeling of Gallagher acknowledging the era in which the record arrives is palpable, but more palpable are the weighted beats, the guttural shouts and layers of disaffected moans. “Digitized Exile” plays out like the ugliest outtake from Pretty Hate Machine — a compliment — and after the suitably tense “No Reality,” the six-minute “Tone and Tenor” — with a guest appearance from Kanga — offers a fuller take on drone and industrial metal, filling some of the spaces purposefully left open elsewhere. That leaves the penultimate “Pixelated Premonitions” as the ultimate blowout and “Suspect” (with a guest spot from Statiqbloom; a longtime fixture of NY industrialism) to noise-wash it all away, like city acid rain melting the pavement. New York always smells like piss in summer.
This band just keeps getting better, and yes, I mean that. Toronto’s Lammping begin an informal, casual-style series of singles with “Desert on the Keel,” the sub-four-minutes of which are dedicated to a surprisingly peaceful kind of heavy psychedelia. Multiple songwriters at work? Yes. Rhythm guitarist Matt Aldred comes to the fore here with vocals mellow to suit the languid style of the guitar, which with Jay Anderson‘s drums still giving a push beneath reminds of Quest for Fire‘s more active moments, but would still fit alongside the tidy hooks with which Lammping populate their records. Mikhail Galkin, principal songwriter for the band, donates a delightfully gonna-make-some-noise-here organ solo in the post-midsection jam before “Desert on the Keel” turns righteously back to the verse, Colm Hinds‘ bass McCartneying the bop for good measure, and in a package so welcome it can only be called a gift, Lammping demonstrate multiple new avenues of growth for their craft and project. I told you. They keep getting better. For more, dig into 2022’s Stars We Lost EP (review here). You won’t regret it.
Immediate three-part harmonies in the chorus of opener “Stealin’ Wine” set the tone for Limousine Beach‘s self-titled debut, as the new band fronted by guitarist/vocalist David Wheeler (OutsideInside, Carousel) and bringing together a five-piece with members of Fist Fight in the Parking Lot, Cruces and others melds ’70s-derived sounds with a modern production sheen, so that the Thin Lizzy-style twin leads of “Airboat” hit with suitable brightness and the arena-ready vibe in “Willodene” sets up the proto-metal of “Black Market Buss Pass” and the should-be-a-single-if-it-wasn’t “Hear You Calling.” Swagger is a staple of Wheeler‘s work, and though the longest song on Limousine Beach is still under four minutes, there’s plenty of room in tracks like “What if I’m Lying,” the AC/DC-esque “Evan Got a Job” and the sprint “Movin’ On” (premiered here) for such things, and the self-awareness in “We’re All Gonna Get Signed” adds to the charm. Closing out the 13 songs and 31 minutes, “Night is Falling” is dizzying, and leads to “Doo Doo,” the tight-twisting “Tiny Hunter” and the feedback and quick finish of “Outro,” which is nonetheless longer than the song before it. Go figure. Go rock. One of 2022’s best debut albums. Good luck keeping up.
Perfect Light is the closest Patrick Walker (also Warning) has yet come to a solo album with 40 Watt Sun, and any way one approaches it, is a marked departure from 2016’s Wider Than the Sky (review here, sharing a continued penchant for extended tracks but transposing the emotional weight that typifies Walker‘s songwriting and vocals onto pieces led by acoustic guitar and piano. Emma Ruth Rundle sits in on opener “Reveal,” which is one of the few drumless inclusions on the 67-minute outing, but primarily the record is a showcase for Walker‘s voice and fluid, ultra-subdued and mostly-unplugged guitar notes, which float across “Behind My Eyes” and the dare-some-distortion “Raise Me Up” later on, shades of the doom that was residing in the resolution that is, the latter unflinching in its longing purpose. Not a minor undertaking either on paper or in the listening experience, it is the boldest declaration of intent and progression in Walker’s storied career to-date, leaving heavy genre tropes behind in favor of something that seems even more individual.
Snagged by Heavy Psych Sounds in the early going of 2022, French rockers Decasia debut on the label with An Endless Feast for Hyenas, a 10-track follow-up to 2017’s The Lord is Gone EP (review here), making the most of the occasion of their first full-length to portray inventive vocal arrangements coinciding with classic-sounding fuzz in “Hrosshvelli’s Ode” and the spacier “Cloud Sultan” — think vocalized Earthless — the easy-rolling viber “Skeleton Void” and “Laniakea Falls.” “Ilion” holds up some scorch at the beginning, “Hyenas at the Gates” goes ambient at the end, and interludes “Altostratus” and “Soft Was the Night” assure a moment to breathe without loss of momentum, holding up proof of a thoughtful construction even as Decasia demonstrate a growth underway and a sonic persona long in development that holds no shortage of potential for continued progress. By no means is An Endless Feast for Hyenas the highest-profile release from this label this year, but think of it as an investment in things to come as well as delivery for right now.
The abiding shove of “Circle” and the more swinging “Abracadabra” begin Giant Mammoth‘s second full-length, Holy Sounds, with a style that wonders what if Lowrider and Valley of the Sun got together in a spirit of mutual celebration and densely-packed fuzz. Longer pieces “The Colour is Blue” and “Burning Man” and the lightly-proggier finale “Teisko” space out more, and the two-minute “Dust” is abidingly mellow, but wherever the Tampere, Finland, three-piece go, they remain in part defined by the heft of “Abracadabra” and the opener before it, with “Unholy” serving as an anchor for side A after “Burning Man” and “Wasteland” bringing a careening return to earth between “The Colour is Blue” and the close-out in “Teisko.” Like the prior-noted influences, Giant Mammoth are a stronger act for the dynamics of their material and the manner in which the songs interact with each other as the eight-track/38-minute LP plays out across its two sides, the second able to be more expansive for the groundwork laid in the first. They’re young-ish and they sound it (that’s not a slag), and the transition from duo to three-piece made between their first record and this one suits them and bodes well in its fuller tonality.
New Jersey trio Pyre Fyre may or may not be paying homage to their hometown of Bayonne with “Rinky Dink City,” but their punk-born fuzzy sludge rock reminds of none so much as New Orleans’ Suplecs circa 2000’s Wrestlin’ With My Ladyfriend, both the title-tracks dug into raw lower- and high-end buzztone shenanigans, big on groove and completely void of pretense. Able to have fun and still offer some substance behind the chicanery. I don’t know if you’d call it party rock — does anyone party on the East Coast or are we too sad because the weather sucks? probably, I’m just not invited — but if you were having a hangout and Pyre Fyre showed up with “Slow Cookin’,” for sure you’d let them have the two and a half minutes it takes them (less actually) to get their point across. In terms of style and songwriting, production and performance, this is a band that ask next to nothing of the listener in terms of investment are able to effect a mood in the positive without being either cloyingly poppish or leaving a saccharine aftertaste. I guess this is how the Garden State gets high. Fucking a.
Kamru, Kosmic Attunement to the Malevolent Rites of the Universe
Issued on April 20, the cumbersomely-titled Kosmic Attunement to the Malevolent Rites of the Universe is the debut outing from Denver-based two-piece Kamru, comprised of Jason Kleim and Ashwin Prasad. With six songs each hovering on either side of seven minutes long, the duo tap into a classic stoner-doom feel, and one could point to this or that riff and say The Sword or liken their tone worship and makeup to Telekinetic Yeti, but that’s missing the point. The point is in the atmosphere that is conjured by “Penumbral Litany” and the familiar proto-metallurgy of the subsequent “Hexxer,” prominent vocals echoing with a sense of command rare for a first offering of any kind, let alone a full-length. In the more willfully grueling “Cenotaph” there’s doomly reach, and as “Winter Rites” marches the album to its inevitable end — one imagines blood splattered on a fresh Rocky Mountain snowfall — the band’s take on established parameters of aesthetic sounds like it’s trying to do precisely what it wants. I’m saying watch out for it to get picked up for a vinyl release by some label or other if that hasn’t happened yet.
Posted in Whathaveyou on January 6th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
New Jersey trioย Pyre Fyre will release their new two-songer Rinky Dink City / Slow Cookin’ next month. I’ve written about the Bayonne-based outfit before — they premiered “Trash Man” here about a year ago — but I couldn’t help but note here that the upcoming tracks were recorded in Morristown, which is like two towns over from where I live. My cousin lives there. Shit, I was born there. Perhaps those of you who live in or near more major urban centers — looking at you, Athens, Greece! — can’t necessarily relate to it being a novelty to have bands doing stuff in actual proximity to where you are, but this isn’t even Red Bank or Asbury Park, about an hour south. This is a hop on 202 to 287 and 10 minutes later there’s the Green. Badass.
Fortunately, the raw heavy ofย Pyre Fyreย has more than just “happened nearby me” going for it. With “Rinky Dink City” they would seem to pay homage to Bayonne itself, and “Slow Cookin'” sounds like a lostย Floor demo from 1992, lumbering despite its swing and fuzzed to the nines. Easy to dig, done in about five minutes, and self-aware, there’s plenty to get into and little reason to not. I bet they play in Jersey City sometimes, if shows still ever happen there, but I bet they remember going to Maxwell’s in Hoboken too.
My idea of a good time:
Pyre Fyre – Rinky Dink City / Slow Cookin’
“Rinky Dink City / Slow Cookin'” is the new offering from the New Jersey based power trio PYRE FYRE. Initially forming over a love of lo-fi aesthetics, early 1980s hardcore, classic psychedelia, B movies, heavy metal, and outsider art, PYRE FYRE strive to experiment with each release.
The band comments: On “Rinky Dink City”: โThis song is about those little cities all over America. They might still have pay phones or arcade machines. Maybe not. Maybe the apartment wonโt shut the heat off. Maybe you canโt find good takeout..โ
On “Slow Cookinโ”: โPYRE FYRE have historically eaten a lot of fast food, but that doesnโt mean they donโt appreciate a good old fashioned home cooked meal.โ
Recorded in Morristown, NJ at Heavy Air Studios, “Rinky Dink City” / “Slow Cookin'” features amazing background vocals by AMBRIOSIA GAINOUS and a guitar solo by Dustin Bartee of ETHEREAL SEA. Sludgy overdriven guitars drive the energetic rhythms across the tracks. “Rinky Dink City” hits hard with immense rhythms driving the track. The powerful lead vocals, and bluesy backing, along with dynamic lead guitar motifs, enhance the complementary chaos of the track. “Slow Cookinโ”‘ , with humorous sound effects and lyrics, is jam-packed with energy. PYRE FYRE certainly don’t take themselves seriously and a huge sense of fun comes through their sound.
PYRE FYRE are by no doubt a whimsical bunch who have produced a blast of a double single.”Rinky Dink City” / “Slow Cookin'” brings the utterly loud and heavy fuzz straight out of sludge with their own witty twist.
Line-up: Mike Montemarano on drums/vocals Dan Kirwan on guitar Andrew Stanish on bass.
Posted in audiObelisk on January 20th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
The song’s two minutes long, and at least 20 seconds of that is feedback. If you’ve never been to the off-the-Turnpike burg that is Bayonne, New Jersey, Pyre Fyre‘s sound sums it up efficiently. It is functional suburbia for the working and what used to be middle class, and most of the roads need to be repaved. It is marked out by the futurist design of the Bayonne Bridge that connects it to — wait for it — Staten Island, and in its grit, wafted-over air pollution and near-the-river spirit, it’s a town for drinking and for punk rock, andย Pyre Fyre seem to have plenty of both at their disposal.
A trio with roots as a duo, they offer the sludge that is punk with fuller distortion, and while a prior single like “Rinky Dink City” — their homage to their hometown — or the late-2020 demo “Wyld Ryde” has a more lumbering edge despite the underlying current of motion in the drums and bass, “Trash Man” is more classic punk, with lyrics boasting against not being a garbage man, a janitor or sanitation engineer and a careening central riff brought forth at higher speed. The idea here could hardly be more straightforward. Dirty punk rock working on a likewise dirty theme. Pretense need not apply.
I don’t know what the dudes fromย Pyre Fyre do for a living. They could be bankers for all I know, or dentists. But they sell “Trash Man” well, and though one is reminded ofย The Cramps‘ “Garbage Man” — covered dutifully byย Fatso Jetson in 2010 — the New Jerseyans bring a particular charm to this original that those of my beloved Garden State will no doubt recognize. As for the rest, meh, it’s two minutes.
There are more singles on Bandcamp and Soundcloud, but nothing so substantive as a 7″ or an EP as yet. Take it as it comes.
And enjoy:
Pyre Fyre on “Trash Man”:
“We are a heavy psych band out of Jersey City. The track “Trash Man” is an ode to B-movies and protometal bands like Blue Cheer. It was produced by Dustin Bartee from Ethereal Sea.”
The New Jersey-based power trio formed initially over a love of lo-fi aesthetics, early 1980s hardcore, classic psychedelia, B movies, Heavy Metal, and outsider art. Filtering in their penchant for worshipping at the altar of the almighty Riff, the group has dedicated themselves to creating intense, exploratory music from one song to the next.