Like so many pretty flowers at your feet, cool breeze, clean air — hospitality — the opening riff of Kyuss‘ uber-classic track “Green Machine” is a familiar clarion to the converted. In the hands of Quebecois heavy rockers Sandveiss, it is wielded as if to tell you you’re among friends. In 2020, the band based in la ville de Québec — in Woodland Studio as well as their respective home studios, set themselves to the task of recording a Black Sabbath covers LP that was released this past December under the banner of Sandveiss Bloody Sandveiss as the follow-up to their 2019 sophomore full-length, Saboteur. I guess when they were done with those covers, there must’ve been a collective shrug as to what to do next before someone said, “Uh, ‘Green Machine?'” and about four minutes later they’d nailed it, recorded audio and video and were ready to pack up for the day.
That’s certainly how it seems in the clip, anyhow. Immediate kudos to Sandveiss guitarist/vocalist Luc Bourgeois for carrying the John Garcia vocal part paying homage to the original while adding his own personality to the mix. That’s a hard balance to walk, especially with something so landmark as this song, which it’s kind of reasonable to expect the viewing/listening audience to be able to hear in their heads before they even press play, while he and guitarist Shawn Rice, bassist Maxime Moisan and drummer Dominic Gaumond likewise nail the swinging punk-born groove of Brant Bjork‘s riff-that-launched-a-thousand-ships. There’s no pretense here as to where they’re coming from. Dudes are Kyuss fans. This is very clearly not the first time they’ve attempted to do play “Green Machine,” and they seem wholly comfortable with it, even in a studio setting, running through it live with the cameras rolling.
Sandveiss, according to Sandveiss, have a third long-player in progress now. I don’t know what the recording circumstances are — presumably the reason half of Sandveiss Bloody Sandveiss was made at home was lockdown-related, but they’re back in-person now — or when it’ll be out, but consider this a fun stopgap along the way to that, and go into the video expecting a casual, come-as-you-are-style (the ethic, not the Nirvana track) welcome, because that’s exactly what you get.
Enjoy:
Sandveiss, “Green Machine” live video premiere
Sandveiss is a four-piece rock band from Quebec City, Canada. Here they are covering Kyuss’s Green Machine. Recorded during the Sandveiss Bloody Sandveiss (tribute to Black Sabbath) sessions from 2020 by Broil. After releasing Scream Queen (2013) and Saboteur (2019), Sandveiss are recording their 3rd full length album as we speak.
Sandveiss’ live session of Kyuss’ Green Machine. Recorded at Woodland Studio.
Video Director: Paul Di Giacomo Cameraman: Paul Di Giacomo Editing: Paul Di Giacomo
Music Produced by Sandveiss Recorded by Raphaël Malenfant (Broil) Mixed and mastered by Raphaël Malenfant
SANDVEISS is: Luc Bourgeois: Vocals, Guitar Dominic Gaumond: Drums Maxime Moisan: Bass Shawn Rice: Guitar
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 25th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Despite some recent dabbling in concentrates — super fun — and a longtime association with underground heavy music, I’ll readily admit I know precious, precious little about cannabis culture. I even missed the point when everyone stopped calling it “weed.” I only recently found out what a “temple ball” is. But I still look at the title of Seum’s upcoming EP, Blueberry Cash, and say to myself, “golly that sounds like the name of a strain.” No confirmation on that, but I’m also not sure it’s really necessary. Call it a safe bet and let’s roll with it.
Alas, the sans-guitar, bass-in-your-face Montreal trio will issue Blueberry Cash on April 20, digitally, on hand-painted vinyl, and alongside a special ‘Blueberry Box’ that, yes, you can put your weed in. Or your cannabis. Or your temple balls, I guess. Whatever you got. Also important documents probably, if you fold them just right. Either way, it looks pretty sweet, as you can see below.
From the PR wire:
Seum: New EP Blueberry Cash on April 20th
While we are working on our next full length album we have decided to take a quick smoke break and release a new EP on April 20th, Blueberry Cash.
The EP is made of 2 songs written during our debut album Winterized writing sessions (Blueberry Cash and John Flag) and a cover of our singer Gaspard’s former band Lord Humungus (Hairy Muff).
Mixed and Mastered by Greg Dawson (BWC Studios – Sons of Otis, Panzerfaust) and illustrated by Burmese Grindcore artist Fadzee Tussock, the EP will be released on Wednesday April 20th while we will drop a 1st single, John Flag, on April 2nd 2022.
To make this release even more special we will also drop 10 hand painted 10″ vinyls in collaboration with Meumeu Music along with the “Blueberry Box”, an ultra limited wooden stash box branded with the EP Artwork and band logo.
Seum is: Fred – Drums Gaspard – Vocals Piotr – Bass
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 6th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Weirdo prog-thrash legends Voivod enter the fray of early 2022 releases with the impending Synchro Anarchy, out Feb. 11 through Century Media. New Voivod is always a cause for joy, and while there’s no audio up as yet from the album, I think it’s probably safe to say that, yes, it will sound like Voivod. It certainly looks the part, with a telltale cover by drummer Michel “Away” Langevin. Personally I’d like to hear a Voivod song called “Quest for Nothing.” Like, right now.
But alas. Making do with the PR wire info is something I’m fairly used to by now. Voivod earlier this year surpassed a Kickstarter goal for We Are Connected, a documentary about the band, and they were due to hit Europe this Fall with Exciter and Vio-Lence — a tour which would’ve wrapped today, actually — but I don’t think it happened. Hard to tell sometimes.
Still, the news is good, and here it is:
VOIVOD ANNOUNCE NEW STUDIO ALBUM SYNCHRO ANARCHY
Canadian progressive sci-fi metal innovators VOIVOD are delighted to announce their new studio album Synchro Anarchy, which is scheduled for worldwide release on February 11th via Century Media Records.
“We are eager to present our latest work, a real collaborative effort. The new album represents countless hours of writing, demoing, recording, mixing and so on. The band and Francis Perron at RadicArt Studio gave their very best to make it happen under unusual circumstances, which led us to call it “Synchro Anarchy”. We feel that the sound and music are 100% Voïvod, and we hope everyone will enjoy it as much as we had fun making it. We certainly can’t wait to play it live,” states VOIVOD drummer Michel “Away” Langevin about the forthcoming release.
Closing in on 40 eventful years of existence, VOIVOD are returning with their 15th studio album, reaffirming they are one of the most fervently creative bands in the universe. Synchro Anarchy follows 2018’s highly praised and Juno Award winning The Wake album, as well as 2020’s stellar Lost Machine – Live release. The new album was produced by Francis Perron at RadicArt Studio and features cover artwork created by VOIVOD’s Michel “Away” Langevin.
VOIVOD Synchro Anarchy Tracklist: 1. Paranormalium 2. Synchro Anarchy 3. Planet Eaters 4. Mind Clock 5. Sleeves Off 6. Holographic Thinking 7. The World Today 8. Quest For Nothing 9. Memory Failure
Lost Machine – Live is still available as limited CD with O-Card packaging (in its first European pressing), as a digital album and as a gatefold 2LP on 180g vinyl (in several variations and limitations), which can be purchased, HERE:https://voivodband.lnk.to/LostMachineLive/
Posted in Reviews on September 28th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Everybody come through day one intact? I know it got pretty weird there for a minute, but I felt like sense was ultimately made. Maybe not in all cases, but definitely most. Today also gets fairly wild, and some of this stuff has been covered before in some fashion and some of it not so much, but hell, you’ve been through this before, as have I, so you know what to expect when you’re expecting. Blood might be spilled. Bruises left. Or bliss. Or both sometimes. Hell’s bells. Let’s go already.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Kal-El, Dark Majesty
With their fifth full-length, Dark Majesty, Norwegian heavy rockers and sci-fi-themed cleavage aficionados Kal-El make a willful play toward the epic. Their first 2LP and their first album for Majestic Mountain Records, the eight-song offering tops 65 minutes and splits into four two-song sides, each one seeming to grow bigger until the last of them, with the closing duo “Kala Mishaa” and “Vimana,” draws the proceedings to a massive close. Along the way, Kal-El not only offer their most melodically rich and spacious fare to-date — opening with their longest track in the 11:39 “Temple” (immediate points) — but blast Kyuss into the cosmos on the four-minute “Spiral,” and give Dozer a run for their money on “Comêta.” Gargantuan fuzz shines through on “Hyperion” in a near-maddening cacophony, but it might be the title-track that’s the greatest highlight in the end, marking the band’s accomplishment in heft, blending riffs and atmosphere to a broad and engaging degree. It is a triumph and it sounds like one.
One would not accuse Melbourne’s The Ugly Kings of inaccuracy in titling their second album Strange, Strange Times, and though they launch with the post-Queens of the Stone Age title-track and the now-tinged cynicism of “Technodrone” and “Do You Feel Like You’re Paranoid?,” it’s in even moodier stretches like “Last Man Left Alive” they cast their lot toward individualism. Songs vary in intention but remain consistent in the quality of their construction and look-at-the-world-around-you theme, with “Lawman” leaning toward darker country blues, “Mr. Hyde” asking what would happen if Clutch and Ruff Majik ever crossed paths and the finale “Another Fucking Day” offering a deceptively immersive unfurling. I can’t help but wonder if The Ugly Kings feel surrounded in their home city by much, much druggier neo-psych acts in the heavy underground scene, but the clarity of purpose they bring to their songwriting would make them a standout one way or the other.
Atmospheric and seething in kind, Guhts brings together members of New Yorkers Witchkiss and North Carolina’s Black Mountain Hunger for a pandemic-era debut release that in style explores the restlessness and the overwhelming nature of the age. With Amber Burns (interview here) on vocals, the drums programmed behind Scott Prater and Dan Shaneyfelt guitars/synths and the bass of Jesse Van Note, and a purpose wrought in immersion, the band distinguishes itself in its apropos grimness and in the potential for future exploration of the ideas laid out here, bordering in “The Mirror” on goth only after “Handless Maiden” offers raging, post-metallic lumber. One wonders how Blood Feather will sound five years from now, but more to the point, one wonders what Guhts might conjure in the meantime when/if they press forward. Either way, expect to see this on the list of 2021’s best short releases.
Hey there, psych fans and experts on tragedies of the classic world, British Columbia two-piece Anunnaki have the psychedelic instrumental blowout themed around the murder of Hypatia you’ve been waiting for! Never heard of Hypatia? It doesn’t matter. Samples will provide some context and if they said the whole thing was about going shoe shopping, it wouldn’t be any less righteously far out. With “Golden Gate of the Sun” at the outset, the duo of Dave Read (guitar/bass) and Arlen Thompson (drums/synth) prime a bit of space-boogie, but the subsequent “Cyril, the Fanatic” shoves the freakery to the fore with wailing guitar and drones and seemingly whatever else they thought might work and does. The 15-minute finale, “The Cries of Hypatia,” dives deeper into drone, holding back the drums for about seven minutes while obscure speech and the titular cries unfold. Read and Thompson build it to a full, suitably deathly wash, and take the time to end minimal. Literary, arthouse, but not at all stale for that.
A departure even from his departure, Church of the Cosmic Skull bandleader Bill Fisher‘s second solo offering, Hallucinations of a Higher Truth, follows the darker progressive rock of 2020’s Mass Hypnosis and the Dark Triad (review here) with 40-plus minutes of piano-led singer-songwriter fare, taking a stated influence from the lyrics-as-everyday-musings of Randy Newman on songs like “Better Than You” and “Off to Work,” while revamping his main outfit’s “Answers in Your Soul” and “Evil in Your Eye” to suit the arrangement theme. As Fisher has engaged plenty with classic forms in his work, Hallucinations of a Higher Truth feels by no means beyond his creative reach, and he’s an accomplished enough songwriter and performer to pull it off, thereby demonstrating that if you can craft a song you can make it do whatever the hell you want, and that “you” in this case is him. This isn’t going to be everybody’s thing, but Fisher carries it ably.
Montreal low-end filthmongers Seum return to follow-up earlier 2021’s Winterized EP (review here) with Live From the Seum-Cave, basking in an even rawer incarnation of their guitars-need-not-apply drum/bass/vocals attack. “Sea Sick Six” is even nastier here than it was on the last EP, and the eponymous opener “Seum” is an anthem of disaffection that finds its lyrical answer in “Life Grinder” and “Blueberry Cash” alike — the why-do-I-even-have-this-shit-job point of view as unmistakable as the throat-singing that pops up in the aforementioned “Sea Sick Six.” The trio are beastly on “Winter of Seum,” and they make a special highlight of “Super Tanker” from 2020’s Summer of Seum EP, working tempo shifts into the punishing march that are less than predictable and yet totally over the top in their extremity. This is a good band who genuinely sound like they don’t give a fuck. That’s a hard thing to make believable. I hope they never put out a record and do EPs forever.
Spirit Adrift have broken out from the doomly mire to proffer clear-headed, soaring traditional heavy metal. The unit, led as ever by guitarist/bassist/vocalist Nate Garrett with Marcus Bryant on drums, offer three new tracks on Forge Your Future in the title-track, “Wake Up” and “Invisible Enemy,” channeling Randy Rhoads even through more denser tonality and the nodding groove of the last. Echo behind Garrett‘s vocals reminds here and there of Brian “Butch” Balich of Penance/Argus, but Spirit Adrift‘s path across four full-lengths and companion short releases like this one over the last six years has been its own, and the emergence of Garrett as a singer has been a crucial part of making these songs the concise epics they are. Crisp in craft and confident in delivery, Spirit Adrift only sound like masters of their domain here, and so they are. Heavy metal that loves heavy metal.
The Chicago-based three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Eric Ervin, bassist/vocalist Dana “Erv” Ervin and drummer/backing vocalist Ted Sciaky plunge deep with their self-titled debut into the ’90s era of heavy rock, with vibes running between C.O.C., Monster Magnet, Clutch and Kyuss, among others, but there’s a might-throw-elbows spirit that comes through even in willfully spacious pieces like “I’m Free” (some Lemmy influence there too) and “Wizards & Gods” that adds aggro spirit to the bulk of the nine-song/39-minute affair, a piece like “D.B. Blues” — which stands for “Dirty Bitch Blues” — as unpretentious in its overarching style as it is politically incorrect. “Fogginess” hits near eight minutes and moves toward the trippier end of grunge, with one of the outing’s many layered solos playing out amid the solid groove beneath, the band refusing to compromise their abiding lack of pretense even in the face of that which would otherwise be psychedelic. Not much time for that nonsense — there’s crunch to be had.
3rd Ear Experience, Danny Frankel’s 3rd Ear Experience
Who’s Danny Frankel? Long story short, he was Lou Reed‘s drummer, but in fact he’s got a session-player career that’s found him performing with a staggering array of artists and bands. He puts his stamp on his very own 3rd Ear Experience alongside the group’s founding guitarist Robbi Robb as well as a host of others including fellow founder AmritaKripa, synthesist Scott “Dr. Space” Heller and more besides. The resulting journey is six tracks and 63 minutes of psychedelic gloryscaping, desert-born but galaxy-bred, with longform works like “What Are Their Names” (18:18), “Weep No More, My Friend” (14:49) and closer “Timelessness Pt. 2” (12:03) expanding across exploratory and fluid movements offset by shorter stretches like the suitably percussive “Cosmos Glazed Elephant.” In opener “A Beautiful Questions,” the drums hardly feature, but the lead-in for “What Are Their Names” feels no less intentional than when the penultimate “Timelessness Pt. 1” gives way to silence ahead of the beginning of the finale. I’d say more, but I seem to have lost my train of hyperbole-laden praise. Wonderfully so.
Originally recorded in 2006, Solarius‘s heretofore unreleased four-song EP, Universal Trial, is notable for predating the self-titled Graveyard album, as guitarist/vocalist Jonatan Ramm would end up joining that band in 2008, seeming after Solarius dissolved. The 21-minute release arrives now with the considerable backing of Heavy Psych Sounds in no small part because of that nifty bit of context, and the classic-style boogie wrought in “Sky of Mine” is enough to make it a prescient-feeling footnote in the storied history of Swedish retroism, let alone the brooding-into-surging, organ-laced “Into the Sun,” which if it was issued by a new band this week would be an excuse unto itself for Bandcamp Friday. Wrapped in the shuffling title-track at the start and the harmonized, patiently-drawn “Mother Nature Mind” at the end, Universal Trial feels like a lesson in the essential role of producer Don Alsterberg (Graveyard, Blues Pills, Spiders, etc.) in defining the style as well as in what might’ve been if Solarius had put this out at the time.
We proceed onward, into this ever-growing swath of typos, lineup corrections made after posting, and riffs — more riffs! — that is the Quarterly Review. Today is Day Four and I’m feeling good. Not to say there isn’t some manner of exhaustion, but the music has been killer — today is particularly awesome — and that makes life much, much, much better as I’ve already said. I hope you’ve found one or two or 10 records so far that you’ve really dug. I know I’ve added a few to my best of 2021 list, including stuff right here. So yeah, we roll on.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
Spelljammer, Abyssal Trip
To envision an expanse, and to crush it. Stockholm three-piece Spelljammer return five years after Ancient of Days (review here), with an all-the-more-massive second long-player through RidingEasy, turning their front-cover astronaut around to face the audience head on and offering 43 minutes/six tracks of encompassing largesse, topping 10 minutes in the title-track and “Silent Rift,” both on side B with the interlude “Peregrine” between them, after the three side A rollers, “Bellwether,” “Lake” and “Among the Holy” have tripped out outward and downward into an atmospheric plunge that is a joy to take feeling specifically geared as an invite to the converted. We are here, come worship with us. Also get crushed. Spelljammer records may not happen all the time, but you won’t be through “Bellwether” before you’re saying it was worth the wait.
A deceptively graceful second LP from Melbourne’s The Black Heart Death Cult, Sonic Mantras pulls together an eight-song/45-minute run that unfolds bookended by “Goodbye Gatwick Blues” (8:59) and “Sonic Dhoom” (9:47) and in between ebbs and flows across shorter pieces that maximize their flow in whether shoegazing, heavygazing, blissing out, or whatever we’re calling it this week on “The Sun Inside” and “One Way Through,” or finding their way to a particularly deadened meadow on “Trees,” or tripping the light hypnotic on “Dark Waves” just ahead of the closer. “Cold Fields” churns urgently in its 2:28 but remains spacious, and everywhere The Black Heart Death Cult go, they remain liquefied in their sound, like a seemingly amorphous thing that nonetheless manages to hold its shape despite outside conditions. Whatever form they take, then, they are themselves, and Sonic Mantras emphasizes how yet-underappreciated they are in emerging from the ever-busy Aussie underground.
Tetra is the third long-player from Milwaukee’s Shogun, and in addition to the 10-minute “Delta,” which marries blues gargle with YOB slow-gallop before jamming out across its 10-minute span, it brings straight-shooter fuzz rockers like “Gravitas,” the someone-in-this-band-listened-to-Megadeth-in-the-’90s-and-that’s-okay beginnings of “Buddha’s Palm/Aviary” and likewise crunch of “Axiom” later, but also the quiet classic progressive rock of “Gone Forever,” and the more patient coming together of psychedelia and harder-hitting movement on closer “Maximum Ray.” Somewhat undercut by a not-raw-but-not-bursting-with-life production, pieces like “Buddha’s Palm/Aviary,” which gives over to a sweeter stretch of guitar in its second movement, and “Vertex/Universal Pain Center,” which in its back end brings around that YOB influence again and puts it to good use, are outwardly complex enough to put the lie to the evenhandedness of the recording. There’s more going on in Tetra than it first seems, and the more you listen, the more you find.
Keeping up with Nadja has proven nigh on impossible over the better part of the last two decades, as the Berlin-by-way-of-Toronto duo have issued over 25 albums in 19 years, plus splits and live offerings and digital singles and oh my goodness I do believe I have the vapors that’s a lot of Nadja. For those of us who flit in and out like the dilletantes we ultimately are, Luminous Rot‘s aligning Aidan Baker and Leah Buckareff with Southern Lord makes it an easy landmark, but really most of what the six-cut/48-minute long-player does is offer a reminder of the vital experimentalism the lazy are missing in the first place. The consuming, swelling drone of “Cuts on Your Hands,” blown-out sub-industrialism of “Starres,” hook of the title-track and careful-what-you-wish-for anchor riff of “Fruiting Bodies” — these and the noisily churning closer “Dark Inclusions” are a fervent argument in Nadja‘s favor as being more than a sometimes-check-in kind of band, and for immediately digging into the 43-minute single-song album Seemannsgarn, which they released earlier this year. So much space and nothing to lose.
Welcome to punishment as a primary consideration. Indianapolis death-doom four-piece hold back the truly crawling fare until “Perverted Reflection,” which is track three of the total seven on their debut full-length, Upon a Throne of Jackals, but by then the extremity has already shown its unrepentant face across the buried-alive “Final Spasms of the Drowned” and the oldschool death metal of “The Altar.” Centerpiece “Invert Every Throne” calls to mind Conan in its nod, but Shroud of Vulture are more about rawness than sheer largesse in tone, and their prone-to-blasting style gives them an edge there and in “Halo of Tarnished Light,” which follows. The closing pair of “Concealing Rabid Laughter” and “Stone Coffin of Existence” both top seven minutes and offset grueling tension with grueling release, but it’s the stench of decay that so much defines Upon a Throne of Jackals, as though somebody rebuilt Sunlight Studio brick for brick in Hoosier Country. Compelling and filthy in kind.
Towards Atlantis Lights, When the Ashes Devoured the Sun
Ultra-grueling, dramatic death-doom tragedies permeate the second full-length, When the Ashes Devoured the Sun, from UK-based four-piece Towards Atlantis Lights, with vocalist/keyboardist Kostas Panagiotou and guitarist Ivan Zara at the heart of the compositions while bassist Riccardo Veronese and drummer Ivano Olivieri assure the impact that coincides with the cavernous procession matches in scope. The follow-up to 2018’s Dust of Aeons (review here), this six-track collection fosters classicism and modern apocalyptic vibes alike, and whether raging or morose, its dirge atmosphere remains firm and uncompromised. Heavy lumber for heavy hearts. The kind of doom that doesn’t look up. That doesn’t mean it’s not massive in scope — it is, even more than the first record — just that nearly everything it sees is downward. If there’s hope, it is a vague thing, lost to periphery. So be it.
It has been said on multiple occasions that “space is the place.” The curiously-capitalized Colorado outfit ASTRAL CONstruct would seem to live by this ethic on their debut album, Tales of Cosmic Journeys, unfurling as they do eight flowing progressions of instrumental slow-CGI-of-the-planets pieces that are more plotted in their course than jams, but feel built from jams just the same. Raw in its production and mix, and mastered by Kent Stump of Wo Fat, there’s enough atmosphere to let the lead guitar breathe, certainly, and to sustain life in general even on “Jettisoned Adrift in the Space Debris,” and the image evoked by “Hand Against the Solar Winds” feels particularly inspired given that song’s languid roll. The record starts and ends in cryogenic sleep, and if upon waking we’re transported to another place and another time, who knows what wonders we might see along the way. ASTRAL CONstruct‘s exploration would seem to be just beginning here, but their “Cosmos Perspective” is engaging just the same.
Vienna-based sludgedrivers TarLung were last heard from with 2017’s Beyond the Black Pyramid (discussed here), and Architect continues the progression laid out there in melding vocal extremity and heavy-but-not-too-heavy-to-move riffing. It might seem like a fine line to draw, and it is, and that only makes songs like “Widow’s Bane” and “Horses of Plague” all the more nuanced as their deathly growls and severe atmospheres mesh with what in another context might just be stoner rock groove. Carcass circa the criminally undervalued Swansong, Six Feet Under. TarLung manage to find a place in stoner sludge that isn’t just Bongzilla worship, or Bongripper worship, or Bong worship. I’m not sure it’s worship at all, frankly, and I like that about it as the closing title-track slow-moshes my brain into goo.
Somewhere in the great mystical expanse between Kalispell, Montana, and Kansas City, Missouri, two practicioners of the riffly dark arts meet on a field of battle. Wizzerd come packing the 19-minute acoustic-into-heavy-prog-into-sitar-laced-jam-out “We Are,” as if to encompass that declaration in all its scope, while Merlin answer back with the organ-led “Merlin’s Bizarre Adventure” (21:51), all chug and lumber until it’s time for weirdo progressive fusion reggae and an ensuing Purple-tinged psych expansion. Who wins? I don’t know. Ripple Music in releasing it in the first place, I guess. Continuing the label’s influential split series(es), Turned to Stone Chapter III pushes well over the top in the purposes of both acts involved, and in that, it’s maybe less of a battle than two purveyors joining forces to weave some kind of Meteo down on the heads of all who might take them on. If you’ve think you’ve got the gift, they seem only too ready to test that out.
“Life Grinder” begins with a sample: “I don’t know if you need all that bass,” and the answer, “Oh, you need all that bass.” That’s already after “Sea Sick Six” has revealed the Montreal-based trio’s sans-guitar extremist sludge roll, and the three-piece seem only too happy to keep up the theme. Vocals are harsh, biting, grating, purposeful in their fuckall, and the whole 28-minute affair of Winterized is cathartic aural violence, except perhaps the interlude “666,” which is a quiet moment between “Broken Bones” and “Black Snail Volcano,” which finally seems to just explode in its outright aggression, nod notwithstanding. A slowed down Ramones cover — reinventing “Pet Sematary” as “Red Sematary” — has a layer of spoken chanting vocals layered in and closes out, but the skin has been peeled so far back by then and Seum have doused so much salt onto the wounds that even Bongzilla might cringe. The low-end-only approach only makes it more punishing and more punk rock at the same time. Fucking mean.
Posted in Features on January 6th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
Montreal-based three-piece Mooch — also stylized all-caps: MOOCH — self-released their debut album, Hounds, on April 20, 2020. Fun timing for a heavy rock record, save for the year. But the trio of guitarist/vocalist Ben Cornel, drummer/backing vocalist Alex Segreti and gone-then-returned bassist/backing vocalist Julian Iacovantuono brought desert-captured vibe that was actually captured in the desert to combat the restlessness of last Spring’s lockdown, and Hounds dips in and out of heavy blues on a cut like “Feel Good” after a little wah trippiness in the funky rollout of “Blues Man’s Face” earlier on. The songs are tight structurally but flow easy, and all 10 of ’em — even the interlude “Lucid,” which is discussed below — contribute to the strength of the whole.
The story of the album — which is just sitting there; it would be begging to be picked up for a vinyl release were it not actually playing it so darn cool; it’s like, “Hey, no big deal, you could put me out as a 12″ I’ve got some cool artwork and I’m a good time” — is of course that they, as a band based on the other side of the continent, pilgrimaged to Twentynine Palms, California, to record at Jalamanta Studios with Brant Bjork and Bubba DuPree. And as narratives go, that’s pretty good. Have songs, will travel. The full reality of the situation is more complex; they did do live tracking with DuPree, Bjork and Yosef Sanborn in CA, then returned home and filled those out with overdubbed elements, backing vocal arrangements, and so on, working with Joe Segreti (who also guests on lap steel) at SEGPOP Studios.
One way or the other, though, what Hounds has got is vibe, and it’s got plenty of it. And better, vibe set alongside choice songcraft that doesn’t make its hooks overbearing but most certainly gets its point across and seals Mooch as a band who, though their path getting there was somewhat bumpy — with Iacovantuono going then coming back, completing and refining the songs as a duo, recording in two studios, etc. — know the sound they’re looking for and obviously knew what they wanted to do to capture it. As a debut — which, again, really, someone should step up and put out on vinyl — it more than does its job in serving notice of their intent.
Please enjoy the following Six Dumb Questions.
Six Dumb Questions with MOOCH
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Tell me about traveling from Montreal to California to record in the desert. How did it come about, how long were you there, and what made you take that trip? Tell me about going. Did you all travel together? What was that trip like for you personally?
Ben Cornel: It was all such a surreal experience. Our trip to California came about in the most cinematic type of circumstances. Alex and myself were touring Eastern Canada as a drum-guitar duo in the spring leading up to the summer 2018 trip. We played a show in Oshawa, Ontario, to a house of maybe 12 people, all band members included. One of the musicians we shared the stage with that night, Andre from Slow Death Lights, came up to us after our set and asked us if we dug Brant Bjork’s music. Absolutely we did and do. MOOCH has always listed Kyuss as one of our biggest influences. That’s why our jaws dropped when Andre mentioned that if we were serious about cutting a record he could potentially introduce us to Brant through email. We left that night being very stoked but also skeptical of the probability of a deal coming through. We gave it a shot and sent Brant an email with some of our music. He replied a couple days later with a simple four word response: Let’s make a record. Within two weeks from that night we had connected with Brant, settled a date, and bought tickets to Palm Springs. We spent the next five months putting together our debut LP HOUNDS.
Alex Segreti: We had booked five August days of studio time with Brant and his team: producer Bubba Dupree, and engineer Yosef Sanborn of Massive FX Pedals. This was the team that weeks prior to our arrival had recorded Brant’s 13th album, Mankind Woman, in the same place that we were headed to, Jalamanta Studios. At the time, we were still a guitar-drum duo hellbent on pulling off some White Stripes-esque two-piece album with as little studio magic as possible. We had spent five months of rehearsing and writing full-time so that we could ace our performances under the red light. Although not working in the band at the time, current MOOCH bassist/vocalist Julian worked hard with us to prepare this album.
Julian Iacovantuono: The pre-prod stage was the first time that Alex, Ben, and I reconnected in a MOOCH context. Since they were only spending a short amount of time in the desert, they wanted the songs to be as ironed-out as possible before going in to record; so they asked me to help them out with the pre-prod. During those sessions, we recorded formal demos, and went over song structure, vocal harmonies, and guitar overdubs.
Ben Cornel: We wanted to absolutely nail this album. We had the chance to open for Yawning Man in Montreal a few months earlier. Meeting and playing with those guys was a rad experience, and now, to get the chance to travel to Joshua Tree to collaborate with Brant in the desert that saw the mythical generator parties and births of Kyuss, Yawning Man, Queens of the Stone Age… we were beyond stoked. For these reasons that trip took on such a personal tone as well. For example, the kit that we recorded on was dubbed ‘the Kyuss kit’. Brant had used it for recording a majority of his drums throughout his career. He also shared with us that Dave Grohl had borrowed the kit whilst touring with Queens of the Stone Age for a Songs for the Deaf tour. Alex, being a gigantic Grohl fan as well as a QOTSA fan, practically collapsed at the realization that he was tracking on the kit. The stories that were shared in the post-recording hours of the day were so what made it so memorable to connect with such a professional, hard working team of individuals. The stories ranged from Lollapalooza, holding Hendrix’s burnt guitar at Frank Zappa’s home studio, and the likes of Soundgarden and Paul McCartney. We were in the company of some of our biggest influences, and this record would not have come to be without the hard work everyone put in.
“Mantra” opens the record mellow and then smacks you in the face. How much did you want to draw out the louder side and the jammier stretches initially? Was that something you specifically wanted to bring out in the recording?
Alex Segreti: The idea that “Mantra” would open the record was suggested to us by our friend Nick who plays in a destructive doom rock band called KATÖ. He heard the mellow slow burn build and thought it would make a great opening. We ran with it and in the end it aligned with the concept of the album. Lyrically “Mantra” explores this flip-the-switch moment between realms. ‘Mantra’ is the switch, and the drop at the end of the song flips you into the realm of HOUNDS for the next 40 minutes.
The concept for the album initially, was that of the barebones duo. We didn’t want to overreach for spaces that we couldn’t hold live during shows. The realness of the album came through from the fact that it was recorded live, without a click. We were in the same room, side by side. This helped the mood flow and the jams come through. We really captured the emotions that we were feeling being there. The way the songs were written was trying to compensate for having a bass-less groove. We decided to keep the groove intact as much as possible instead of reach for the jammier improv moments. That being said, live, we had a massive rig going and we wanted that to come through. We still wanted a hefty punch to land on all ears and in the end we got there, but we ended up with the final sound after a split from our initial concept; which led to more work being done in Montreal after the fact.
How involved were Bubba Dupree and Brant Bjork as producers? What was recorded in Twentynine Palms as opposed to Montreal?
Ben Cornel: Brant was our initial contact and he essentially played the role of the old school producer. He brought the team together, worked on setting up the studio, getting gear, and overlooked the groovy vibes of the operation. Many conversations were had with him regarding style, sound, technique and attitude, among other things. He helped us direct our energy and intent into the music. Bubba Dupree was the producer who sat on every note, and went through the tracking process with us. He would recommend certain changes and had a tight vision for what he heard. We were open to all suggestions and it rolled very smoothly between us. We trusted Bubba’s vision without a shred of doubt and he went on to do a great job in mixing the album. His vibe, vision and contributions could also be heard all over Mankind Woman. Yosef Sanborn supplied some very tasty gear and was in full control of the board the entire time. We had never worked with an engineer who was so on the ball. He rolled with such precision and was calm, cool and collected the entire time. In the end, it was the five of us in this studio space together for many hours of the day. Everyone was fully immersed in the project and contributed to the magic that was expressed through this record.
Alex Segreti: Like we mentioned earlier, at one point, we had to split from the whole duo sound we had initially set out to grab. The drums, guitars and vocals that we recorded in the desert sounded great. Bubba had just gotten us some mixes but the basslessness was too evident. Bubba and Brant suggested we add bass to the record, and to the band. At this point we turned to the one and only Julian Iacovantuono. Julian had played bass in MOOCH for many years and had left the band at the end of 2017. As the duo form showed, we could not and did not replace him. We asked if he would like to rejoin and record bass on the record. He had seen the record at the demo stage and had the chemistry to understand the music. He accepted, and the MOOCH trio was re-birthed.
At this time we reached out to Joe Segreti at SEGPOP Studios. Joe recorded our 2017 Timewarp EP and also worked on arrangements for the album. We knew he had the touch to dial in what we were missing. Joe produced and engineered the Montreal part of the album and did a phenomenal job working with the music. With him we recorded bass, added back up vocals, guitar dubs, djembe and some special ingredients for atmospheric effect. When we look back at what we had leaving the desert and compare it to what we came away with after the Montreal chapter of the project, we are so grateful that Julian and Joe came in. Everything ended up blending in perfectly thanks to Joe and Julian’s amazing job at really understanding what we were trying to accomplish. Their contributions boosted the album to the weight that we always knew we wanted to punch at. We’ve always had our own team at home and we couldn’t be happier that this album did the distance between the desert and Montreal.
Tell me about “Lucid.” It’s such a quick jam but it does a lot atmospherically and ties the songs together around it. How much was laid out in pre-production and how much came to be in the studio?
Ben Cornel: Originally, the music for “Lucid” was supposed to be the extended outro for the track that precedes it, “Blues Man’s Face”. The part could be heard playing throughout the “Blues Man’s Face” riff drop. We recorded the extended outro in the studio without knowing what exactly we were going to do with it. At one point we decided to separate it from BMF and let it stand alone as an “Orchid”-type atmospheric break that Black Sabbath used on Master of Reality. The title “Lucid” fit the mood, and the track became the expression of our trip through the desert, which felt more like a lucid dream than reality.
Julian Iacovantuono: “Lucid,” for me, was probably the most fun track to write on. The guitars provide a vibey blank slate that allowed me to flow melodically with the bass. The only thing that I dislike about the track is how short it is. I think that if we knew what the song would become once we added the guitar dubs, bass, and djembe; we would have made it longer. When we play it live though, we always extend it by a few minutes.
Obviously 2020 was a weird year to release a debut album since you couldn’t really play live to support it. Has the pandemic affected your creative processes at all? Have you been inspired, restless, anything, during this time?
Julian Iacovantuono: This year has definitely been difficult on us as a band. The pandemic has taken from us the main thing we set out to do; play music for people. We’re beginning to get back to writing music and releasing content, so that’s definitely something to look forward to.
Alex Segreti: We are thankful to the people who connected with us and our music online during such a time of social isolation. We were able to find ways to connect with people outside of the live show atmosphere and explore the internet for sources that allow for musical discovery. We were lucky to set up a premiere with Doomed and Stoned back in April which connected us with some rad music lovers through Vegas Rock Revolution, Doom Charts, Obelisk, Kyuss World, Ripple Music. With the support of these communities we have managed to branch out and share our music with people all over the world. We eagerly await a safe reopening for everyone everywhere so that we could connect face-to-face.
Any plans or closing words you want to mention?
We have recently opened our MOOCH Bandcamp store and released HOUNDS on CD. A few of our tour shirts are also still available. We are still working towards making the vinyl investment so that we could get the wax out to the world. We are grateful for everyone who has supported us and helped us along. Much more MOOCH to come.
Posted in Reviews on December 21st, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Kind of a spur of the moment thing, this Quarterly Review. I’ve been adding releases all the while, of course, but my thought was to do this after my year-end list went up, and I realized, hey, if I’ve got like 70 records I haven’t reviewed yet, maybe there’s some of that stuff worth considering. So here we are. I’ve pushed back my best-of-2020 stuff and basically swapped it with the Quarterly Review. Does it matter to you? I seriously, seriously doubt it, but I believe in transparency and that’s what’s up. Thought I’d let you know. And yeah, this is going to go into next week, take us through the X-mas holiday this Friday, so whatever. You celebrate your way and I’ll celebrate mine. Let’s roll.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
Boris, No
As a general project, reviewing Boris is damn near pointless. One might as well review the moon: “uh, it’s big and out there most of the time?” The only reason to do it is either to exercise one’s own need to hyperbolize or help the band sell records. Well, Boris doesn’t need my push and I don’t need to tell them how great they are. No is 40 minutes of the widely and wildly lauded Japanese heavy rock(s) experimentalists trying to riff away existing in 2020, delving high speed into hardcore here and there and playing off that with grueling sludge, punk, garage-metal and the penultimate “Loveless,” which is kind of Boris being their own genre. Much respect to the band, and I suppose one might critique Boris for, what?, being so Boris-y?, but there really isn’t a ton that hasn’t been said about them because such a ton has. I’m not trying to disparage their work at all — No is just what you’d expect as regards defying expectation — but after 20-plus years, there’s only so many ways one wants to call a band genius.
Kind of a soft-opening for Edinburgh’s DVNE as an act on Metal Blade Records, unless of course one counts the two songs on the Omega Severer EP itself, which are post-metallic beasts of the sort that would and should make The Ocean blush. Progressive, heavy, and remarkably ‘next-wave’ feeling, DVNE‘s awaited follow-up to 2017’s Asheran may only be about 17 and a half minutes long, but it bodes remarkably well as the band master a torrent of intensity on the 10-minute opening title-cut and answer that with the immediately galloping “Of Blade and Carapace,” smashing battle-axe riffing and progressive shimmer against each other and finding it to be an alchemy of their own. Album? One suspects not until they can tour for it, but if Omega Severer is DVNE serving notice, consider the message received loud, clear, dynamic, crushing, spacious, and so on. Already veterans of Psycho Las Vegas, they sound like a band bent on capturing a broader audience in the metallic sphere.
There’s no questioning where Hydra‘s heart is at on their debut full-length, From Light to the Abyss. It belongs to the devil and it belongs to Black Sabbath. The Polish four-piece riff hard and straightforward throughout most of the five-track offering (released by Piranha Music), and samples set the kind of atmosphere that should be familiar enough to the converted — “No One Loves Like Satan” reminds of Uncle Acid in its initial channel-changing and swaggering riff alike — but doomly centerpiece “Creatures of the Woods” and the layered vocal melodies late in closer “Magical Mind” perhaps offer a glimpse at the direction the band could take from here. What matters though is where Hydra are at today, and that’s bringing riffs and nod to the converted among the masses, and From Light to the Abyss offers no pretense otherwise. It is doom rock for doom rockers, grooves to be grooved to. They’re not void of ambition by any means — their songwriting makes that clear — but their traditionalism is sleeve-worn, which if you’re going to have it, is right where it should be.
Dead Meadow guitarist/vocalist Jason Simon follows 2016’s Familiar Haunts (review here) with the genre-spanning A Venerable Wreck, finding folk roots in obscure beats and backwards this-and-that, country in fuzz, ramble in space, and no shortage of experimentalism besides. A Venerable Wreck consists of 12 songs and though there are times where it can feel disjointed, that becomes part of the ride. It’s not all supposed to make sense. Yet what happens by the time you get around to “No Entrance No Exit” is that Simon (and a host of cohorts) has set his own context broad enough so that the drone reach of “Hollow Lands” and sleek, organ-laced indie of closer “Without Reason or Right” can coexist without any real interruption of flow between them. The question with A Venerable Wreck isn’t so much whether the substance is there, it’s whether the listener is open to it. Welcome to psychedelic America. Please inject this snake venom and turn in your keys when you leave.
You won’t hear me take away from the opening psych-scorch hook of “Mindbreaker” or the fuzzed-on, boogie-down, -up, and -sideways of “Black Annis” which follows, but there’s something extra fun about hearing Frog Island’s Cherry Choke jam out a 13-minute, drum-solo-inclusive version of “6ix and 7even” that makes Raising Salzburg Rockhouse even more of a reminder of how underrated both they are as a band and Mat Bethancourt is as a player. Look no further than “Domino” if you want absolute proof. The whole band rips it up at the Austrian gig, which was recorded in 2015 as they supported their third and still-most-recent full-length, Raising the Waters (review here), but Bethancourt puts on a Hendrixian clinic in the nine-minute cut from 2011’s A Night in the Arms of Venus (review here), which is actually less of a clinic than it is pure distorted swagger followed by a mellow “cheers, thanks” before diving into “Used to Call You Friend.” A 38-minute set would be perfect for an vinyl release, and anytime Cherry Choke want to get around to putting together a fourth studio album, well, that’ll be just fine too.
It’s a special breed of aggro that emerges as a result of living in the most densely populated state in the union, and New Jersey’s Pariiah have it to spare. Bringing together sludge tonality with elder-style New York hardcore lumbering riffs on their Trip Machine Laboratories tape, Swallowed by Fog, they exude a thickened brand of pissed off that’s outright going to be too confrontation for many who take it on. But if you want a middle finger to the face, this is what it sounds like, and the six songs (compiled into four on the digital version of the release) come and go entirely without pretense and leave little behind except bruises and the promise of more to come. They’re a new band, started in this most wretched of years, but there’s no learning curve whatsoever among the members of Devoid of Faith, The Nolan Gate, Kill Your Idols, Changeörder and others. I’d go to Maplewood to see these cats. I’m just saying. Maybe even Elizabeth.
So you’ve got both members of Holly Hunt in a four-piece sludging out with spacey synth and the band is named after a Star Trek character? Not to get too personal, but that’s going to pique my interest one way or the other. Saavik — and they clearly prefer the Kirstie Alley version, rather than Robin Curtis, going by drummer Beatriz Monteavaro‘s artwork — are damn near playing space rock by the end of “He’s Dead Jim,” the opener of their self-titled debut EP, but even that’s affected by a significant tonal weight in Didi Aragon‘s bass and the guitar of Gavin Perry, however much Ryan Rivas‘ synth and effects-laced vocals might seem to float overhead, but “Meld” rolls along at a steadier nod, and “Horizon” puts the synth more in the lead without becoming any less heavy for doing so. Likewise, “Red Sun” calls to mind Godflesh in its proto-machine metal stomp, but there’s more concern in Saavik‘s sound with expanse than just pure crush, and that shows up in fascinating ways in these songs.
There’s been a dark vibe all along nestled into Mountain Tamer‘s sound, and that’s certainly the case on Psychosis Ritual, with which the Los Angeles-based trio make their debut on Heavy Psych Sounds. It’s their third full-length overall behind 2018’s Godfortune // Dark Matters (review here) and 2016’s self-titled debut (review here), and it finds their untamed-feeling psychedelia rife with that same threat of violence, not necessarily thematically as much as sonically, like the songs themselves are the weapon about to be turned on the listener. Maybe the buzz of “Warlock” or the fuckall echo of the prior-issued single “Death in the Woods” (posted here) aren’t out there trying to be “Hammer Smashed Face” or anything, but neither is this the hey-bruh-good-times heavy jams for which Southern California is known these days. Consider the severity of “Turoc Maximus Antonis” or the finally-released screams in closer “Black Noise,” which bookends Psychosis Ritual with the title-track and seems at last to be the point where whatever grim vibe these guys are riding finally consumes them. Mountain Tamer continue to be unexpected and righteous in kind.
Hypnotic Estonian psychedelic krautrock instrumentals not your thing? Well that sounds like a personal problem Centre El Muusa are ready to solve. The evolved-from-duo four-piece get spaced out amid the semi-motorik repetitions of their self-titled debut (on Sulatron), and that seems to suit them quite well, thanksabunch. Drone trips and essential swirl brim with solar-powered pulsations and you can set your deflectors on maximum and route all the secondaries to reinforce if you want, there’s still a decent chance 9:53 opener an longest track “Turkeyfish” (immediate points, double for the appropriately absurd title) is going to sweep you off what you used to call your feet when that organ line hits at about six minutes in. That’s to say nothing of the cosmic collision later in “Burning Lawa” or the just-waiting-for-a-Carl-Sagan-voiceover “Mia” that follows. Even the 3:46 “Ain’t Got Enough Mojo” lives long enough to prove itself wrong. Interstellar tape transmissions fostered by obvious weirdos in the great out-there in “Szolnok,” named for a city in Hungary that, among other things, hosts the goulash festival. Right fucking on.
The first Population II album, a 2017 self-titled, was comprised of two tracks, each long enough to consume a 12″ side. Somehow it’s fitting with the Montreal-based singing-drummer trio’s aesthetic that their second long-player, À la Ô Terre, would take a completely different tack, employing shorter freakouts like “L’Offrande” and “La Nuit” and the garage-rocking “La Danse” and what-if-Jefferson–Airplane-but-on-Canadian-mushrooms “À la Porte de Demain” and still-more-drifting finisher “Je Laisse le Soleil Briller” amid the more stretched out “Attaction,” the space-buzzer “Ce n’est Réve” while cutting a middle ground in the greaked-out (I was gonna type “freaked out” and hit a typo and I’m keeping it) “Il eut un Silence dans le Ciel,” which also betrays the jazzy underpinnings that somehow make all of À la Ô Terre come across as progressive instead of haphazard. From the start to the close, you don’t know what’s coming next, and just because that’s by design doesn’t make it less effective. If anything, it makes Population II all the more impressive.
Posted in Reviews on October 7th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Day three of the Quarterly Review. Always a landmark. Today we hit the halfway point, but don’t pass it yet since I’ve decided to add the sixth day next Monday. So we’ll get to 30 of the total 60 records, and then be past half through tomorrow. Math was never my strong suit. Come to think of it, I wasn’t much for school all around. Work sucked too.
Anyway, if you haven’t found anything to dig yet — and I hope you have; I think the stuff included has been pretty good so far — you can either go back and look again or keep going. Maybe today’s your day. If not, there’s always tomorrow.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Hum, Inlet
One has to wonder if, if Hum had it to do over again, they might hold back their first album in 23 years, Inlet, for release sometime when the world isn’t being ravaged by a global pandemic. As it stands, the largesse and melodic wash of the Illinois outfit’s all-growed-up heavy post-rock offers 55 minutes of comfort amid the tumult of the days, and while I won’t profess to having been a fan in the ’90s — their last studio LP was 1997’s Downward is Heavenward, and they sound like they definitely spent some time listening to Pelican since then — the overarching consumption Inlet sets forth in relatively extended tracks like “Desert Rambler” and “The Summoning” and the manner in which the album sets its own backdrop in a floating drone of effects make it an escapist joy. They hold back until closer “Shapeshifter” to go full post-rock, and while there are times at which it can seem unipolar, to listen to the crunching “Step Into You” and “Cloud City” side-by-side unveils more of the scope underlying from the outset of “Waves” onward.
Oslo’s Hymn answer the outright crush and scathe of their 2017 debut, Perish (review here), with a more developed and lethal attack on their four-song/38-minute follow-up, Breach Us. Though they’re the kind of band who make people who’ve never heard Black Cobra wonder how two people can be so heavy — and the record has plenty of that; “Exit Through Fire”‘s sludgeshuggah chugging walks by and waves — it’s the sense of atmosphere that guitarist/bassist/vocalist Ole Rokseth and drummer Markus Støle bring to the proceedings that make them so engrossing. The opening title-track is also the shortest at 6:25, but as Breach Us moves across “Exit Through Fire,” “Crimson” and especially 14-minute closer “Can I Carry You,” it brings forth the sort of ominous dystopian assault that so many tried and failed to harness in the wake of Neurosis‘ Through Silver in Blood. Hymn do that and make it theirs in the process.
Carried across with excruciating grace, Atramentus‘ three-part/44-minute debut album, Stygian, probably belongs in a post-Bell Witch category of extreme, crawling death-doom, but from the script of their logo to the dramatic piano accompanying the lurching riffs, gurgles and choral wails of “Stygian I: From Tumultuous Heavens… (Descended Forth the Ceaseless Darkness)” through the five-minute interlude that is “Stygian II: In Ageless Slumber (As I Dream in the Doleful Embrace of the Howling Black Winds)” and into the 23-minute lurchfest that is “Stygian III: Perennial Voyage (Across the Perpetual Planes of Crying Frost and Steel-Eroding Blizzards)” their ultra-morose procession seems to dig further back for primary inspiration, to acts like Skepticism and even earliest Anathema (at least for that logo), and as guttural and tortured as it is as it devolves toward blackened char in its closer, Stygian‘s stretches of melody provide a contrast that gives some semblance of hope amid all the surrounding despair.
As it clocks in 27 minutes, the inevitable question about Zyclops‘ debut release, Inheritance of Ash, is whether it’s an EP or an LP. For what it’s worth, my bid is for the latter, and to back my case up I’ll cite the flow between each of its four component tracks. The Austin, Texas, post-metallic four-piece save their most virulent chug and deepest tonal weight for the final two cuts, “Wind” and “Ash,” but the stage is well set in “Ghost” and “Rope” as well, and even when one song falls into silence, the next picks up in complementary fashion. Shades of Isis in “Rope,” Swarm of the Lotus in the more intense moments of “Ash,” and an overarching progressive vibe that feels suited to the Pelagic Records oeuvre, one might think of Zyclops as cerebral despite their protestations otherwise, but at the very least, the push and pull at the end of “Wind” and the stretch-out that comes after the churning first half of “Rope” don’t happen by mistake, and a band making these kinds of turns on their first outing isn’t to be ignored. Also, they’re very, very heavy.
It’s all peace and quiet until “Psionic Static” suddenly starts to speed up, and then like the rush into transwarp, Kairon; IRSE!‘s Polysomn finds its bliss by hooking up a cortical node to your left temple and turning your frontal lobe into so much floundering goo, effectively kitchen-sink kraut-ing you into oblivion while gleefully hopping from genre to cosmic genre like they’re being chased by the ghost of space rock past. They’re the ghost of space rock future. While never static, Polysomn does offer some serenity amid all its head-spinning and lobe-melting, be it the hee-hee-now-it’s-trip-hop wash of “An Bat None” or the cinematic vastness that arises in “Altaïr Descends.” Too intelligent to be random noise or just a freakout, the album is nonetheless experimental, and remains committed to that all the way through the shorter “White Flies” and “Polysomn” at the end of the record. You can take it on if you have your EV suit handy, but if you don’t check the intermix ratio, your face is going to blow up. Fair warning. LLAP.
The second 2020 offering from Hurst, Texas’ Slow Draw — the one-man outfit of Mark “Derwooka” Kitchens, also of Stone Machine Electric — the four-song Quiet Joy is obviously consciously named. “Tightropes in Tandem” and closer “Sometimes Experiments Fail” offer a sweet, minimal jazziness, building on the hypnotic backwards psych drone of opener “Unexpected Suspect.” In the two-minute penultimate title-track, Kitchens is barely there, and it is as much an emphasis on the quiet space as that in which the music — a late arriving guitar stands out — might otherwise be taking place. At 18 minutes, it is intended to be a breath taken before reimmersing oneself in the unrelenting chaos that surrounds and swirls, and while it’s short, each piece also has something of its own to offer — even when it’s actively nothing — and Slow Draw brims with purpose across this short release. Sometimes experiments fail, sure. Sometimes they work.
It took all of a week for the married duo of Ana Muhi (vocals, bass) and Sven Missullis (guitars, vocals, drums) to announce Might as their new project following the dissolution of the long-ish-running and far-punkier Deamon’s Child. Might‘s self-titled debut arrives with the significant backing of Exile on Mainstream and earns its place on the label with an atmospheric approach to noise rock that, while it inevitably shares some elements with the preceding band, forays outward into the weight of “Possession” and the acoustic-into-crush “Warlight” and the crush-into-ambience “Flight of Fancy” and the ambience-into-ambience “Mrs. Poise” and so on. From the beginning in “Intoduce Yourself” and the rushing “Pollution of Mind,” it’s clear the recorded-in-quarantine 35-minute/nine-song outing is going to go where it wants to, Muhi and Missullis sharing vocals and urging the listener deeper into doesn’t-quite-sound-like-anything-else post-fuzz heavy rock and sludge. A fun game: try to predict where it’s going, and be wrong.
Following a stint on Metal Blade and self-releasing 2018’s What Was and What Shall Be, West Virginia’s Brimstone Coven issue their second album as a three-piece through Ripple Music, calling to mind a more classic-minded Apostle of Solitude on the finale “Song of Whippoorwill” and finding a balance all the while between keeping their progressions moving forward and establishing a melancholy atmosphere. Some elements feel drawn from the Maryland school of doom — opener the melody and hook of “The Inferno” remind of defunct purveyors Beelzefuzz — but what comes through clearest in these songs is that guitarist/vocalist Corey Roth, bassist/vocalist Andrew D’Cagna and drummer Dave Trik have found their way forward after paring down from a four-piece following 2016’s Black Magic (review here) and the initial steps the last album took. They sound ready for whatever the growth of their craft might bring and execute songs like “When the World is Gone” and the more swinging “Secrets of the Earth” with the utmost class.
Take the brutal industrial doom of Author and Punisher and smash it together — presumably in some kind of stainless-steel semi-automated contraption — with the skin-peeling atmosphere and grueling tension of Khanate and you may begin to understand where All Are to Return are coming from on their debut self-titled EP. How they make a song like four-minute centerpiece “Bare Life” feel so consuming is beyond me, but I think being so utterly demolishing helps. It’s not just about the plodding electronic beat, either. There’s some of that in opener “Untrusted” and certainly “The Lie of Fellow Men” has a lumber to go with its bass rumble and NIN-sounding-hopeful guitar, but it’s the overwhelming sense of everything being tainted and cruel that comes through in the space the only-19-minutes-long release creates. Even as closer “Bellum Omnium” chips away at the last remaining vestiges of color, it casts a coherent vision of not only aesthetic purpose for the duo, but of the terrible, all-gone-wrong future in which we seem at times to live.
I saved this one for last today as a favor to myself. Originally released in 2016, Los Acidos‘ self-titled debut receives a well-deserved second look on vinyl courtesy of Necio Records, and with it comes 40 minutes of full immersion in glorious Argentinian psicodelia, spacious and ’60s-style on “Al Otro Lado” and full of freaky swing on “Blusas” ahead of the almost-shoegaze-until-it-explodes-in-sunshine float of “Perfume Fantasma.” “Paseo” and the penultimate “Espejos” careen with greater intensity, but from the folksy feel that arrives to coincide with the cymbal-crashing roll of “Excentricidad” in its second half to the final boogie payoff in “Empatía de Cristal,” the 10-song outing is a joy waiting to be experienced. You’re experienced, right? Have you ever been? Either way, the important thing is that the voyage that, indeed, begins with “Viaje” is worth your time in melody, in craft, in its arrangements, in presence and in the soul that comes through from front to back. The four-piece had a single out in late 2019, but anytime they want to get to work on a follow-up LP, I’ll be waiting.
