Day three marks the halfway point of this Quarterly Review, unless I decide to sneak in an extra day next Monday. We’ll see on that, but things are moving pretty well so far, so I might just be content to take the win and start slating the next one. Always a choice to be made there.

I hope you’ve found something that hits you thus far, and if not, check the below, because there’s a pretty wide variety of styles under the ‘heavy underground’ umbrella here. Hope one or a few or everything clicks.

We proceed.

Quarterly Review #21-30:

Randall Huth, Torched and Coasting

Though he’s probably best known at this point for playing bass in Pissed Jeans for the last 17 years, Pennsylvania’s Randall Huth once-upon-the-aughts played guitar and handled vocals in still-missed pastoral heavy rockers Pearls and Brass, and the new solo EP under his own name will likely be more than enough to trigger nostalgia in remembering that. Torched and Coasting is somewhere between an EP and a follow-up to Huth‘s 2007 solo album as Randall of Nazareth on Drag City, and the self-released tape is clear in its intention, conveying sketches like the finger-plucked movements of “Emptied/Rarified” and “Bursting Smile” and 15-minute closer plunge “Torched and Coasting,” which tube-screams late so stick with it, alongside the drone-meets-zither “The Blind Whale,” and more terrestrial, guitar-and-vocals pieces like opener “Lost in Your Eyes” and the penultimate “Beats Dying,” which — you guessed it — is about getting old. Huth‘s echoing and soft delivery, wit in the lyrics and humble acoustic presentation make that a highlight, but this years-in-the-making offering walks more than a single expressive path. More songs, whatever ‘songs’ means, please. Thanks.

Randall Huth on Bandcamp

Pearls and Brass on Bandcamp

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HolyRoller, Rat King

North Carolinian four-piece HolyRoller make their label-debut on Ripple Music with the eight-song Rat King, which puts modern heavy in a blender such that an early piece like “Crunch Riff Supreme” finds its place in sludge rock and heralds screamy things to come but by the time they’ve gotten to “Buried Alone” at the presumed outset of side B, the flow has more in common with Pallbearer than Weedeater or Sleep, who are another key underlying influence. But the emphasis there should be on ‘underlying’ as HolyRoller step beyond the bands that inspired them in fostering progressive songwriting throughout these 35 minutes, with a richly flexible sound — “Heave Ho” sounds like slower Howling Giant, “Forbidden Things” like Spaceslug — and a push into the ether in “Radiating Sacred Light” before they round out with the Clutch-y bounce of “Drift Into the Sun” to highlight the individuality in where they take their approach. The organic production helps it feel like they’re really digging in, but also they are.

HolyRoller on Bandcamp

Ripple Music website

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Black Mynah, Worried ‘Bout Madame

Worried ‘Bout Madame is the third long-player from Polish heavy post-rock/psych-gaze outfit Black Mynah, and it would seem to be the first since founding vocalist, bassist and baritone guitarist Joanna Kucharska assembled a full-band lineup around herself and drummer Paweł Rucki, who also appeared on 2020’s II. Vocalist/synthesist Aleksandra Joryn and guitarist Marcin Lawendowski join the stylistically subversive proceedings here, with the garage jangle of “Colleen” at the outset pushed into the frenetic shuffle and hard distortion of “Damaged Goods” ahead of the sweet post-punk verse of “Float,” which has its own grungey volatility. The tonal weight thrown around in closer “Looking at You, Kid,” — not to mention the vocal layering — isn’t unprecedented on the album that comes before it, but “Blue Moon” is more about catching up with the insistence of its snare drum and “The Rite” has its own thing going too with the quieter creeper swing and satisfying wash that pays it off. It won’t be for everybody, but who the hell ever wanted to be?

Black Mynah on Bandcamp

Black Mynah streaming links

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Coltsblood, Obscured Into Nebulous Dusk

Last heard from with their before-times 2019 split LP with Un, English death-doom churners Coltsblood make a welcome return with the four-song Obscured Into Nebulous Dusk, their third album overall, first for Translation Loss Records and first in eight years. The years have not been wasted in the sound of bassist/vocalist John McNulty (also keys), guitarist Jemma McNulty and drummer Jay Plested, who foster a ‘beauty in darkness’ sensibility on opener/longest track (immediate points) “Until the Eidolon Falls” before the outright slaughter of “Waning of the Wolf Moon” pushes death metal tempo off a cliff of feedback and raw scathe. “Transcending the Immortal Gateway” makes its presence felt with the mournful lead line topping its later reaches, and “Obscured into Nebulous Dusk” bids farewell in a not-dissimilar fashion, but the particularly agonized vocals prior are a distinguishing feature. Time would seem to have done little to dull the band’s overarching extremity, and so much the better for that.

Coltsblood on Bandcamp

Translation Loss Records website

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Void King, The Hidden Hymnal: Chapter II

The two-years-later follow-up to Indianapolis doom rockers Void King‘s 2023 long-player, The Hidden Hymnal (review here), the seven-song The Hidden Hymnal: Chapter II indeed seems to dig into its own kind of storytelling. The proceedings make for a rousing flow, with the two longest tracks, “The Birth of All Things” (8:49) and “A Union of Expired Souls” (9:34) paired at the outset for a duly epic opening statement. I don’t know if they’re a vinyl side on their own or not, but their separation from the rest of the LP is underscored by the remaining three tracks being sandwiched by a “Prologue” and “Epilogue,” so that the burly progressive metal and heavy rock of “Attrition,” “Convalescence” and “Expiration” feel like their own mini-album on the second side. If this wraps up the The Hidden Hymnal cycle for Void King, then the structural nuance here is fair enough, but the real story of the record is the progression of the band itself, which is ongoing.

Void King on Bandcamp

Argonauta Records website

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Bifter, First Impressions of Hell

Harnessing stoner metal largesse, doomed thematics and an aggro posture for the delivery that adds to the gnashing feel of the material overall, Bifter‘s debut album, First Impressions of Hell, is a torrential, ferocious offering that hits you on multiple levels before you even realize what’s happened. Interludes, the album intro “Enter Hell” and “Lover’s Quarrel,” the sample in “Mercy” and the post-script “Time to Kill” after “Ball of Burning Snakes” and the seven-minute “Belly of the Beast” give an atmospheric feel, but part of what makes “Doom Shroom” and “March of the Imp” so effective is their directness, so First Impressions of Hell, among the impressions made, can count face-punch in its number. The foundation is metal, but the affect is a party, and however weighted the material gets throughout the 36 minutes of its 12 tracks, Bifter are consistently able to convey a feeling of movement and forward momentum along with all their destructive intent.

Bifter links

Bifter on Bandcamp

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Fish Basket, And His Second Album

Write off Poland’s Fish Basket at your own peril. Yeah, they’ve got the cartoonish art and the silly vibe and the sense of rampant chicanery of sound and nonsense, but check out the proggy push of “Robots” on Fish Basket and His Second Album and the way they suddenly pull the plug on the whole thing and drop to deep-breathing, or the shouts worked into opener “NA-HU-HA-NE” and the birdsong in the psych-drifting “Farewells and Returns,” gorgeous as it is before it looses a bit of crush and winds up in classic heavy psych to end. These and myriad other moments throughout — the folkish strum of “Imaginarium” from some unknown tradition, maybe the band’s own, brought to the head of a linear build with a comedown to finish — work on the Frank Zappa model of progressive rock, which is to say that while shenanigans abound, the trio have the technical chops to back up everything they’re doing, and whether it’s the fuzzblaster of “Cardboard Racer” or the sub-nine-minute meander of “Stray in Chill,” Fish Basket carry the listener from one end of the album to another with deceptive ease. Warning: it might be genius.

Fish Basket on Bandcamp

Interstellar Smoke Records store

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Woodhawk, Love Finds a Way

Calgary-based trio Woodhawk — guitarist/vocalist Turner Midzain, bassist/vocalist Mike Badmington and drummer Kevin Nelson — offer a sharply-constructed, professional-grade nine songs across the 53 minutes of their third full-length, the encouragingly-titled Love Finds a Way. The organ adds a classic feel to “Strangers Ever After” early in the going, and the fullness and clarity of the surrounding production only increases the trust in the band’s songwriting, which isn’t without aesthetic ambitions despite the straightforward tack, cuts like “Truth Be Told,” “White Crosses” and the dares-to-shimmy-in-the-middle title-track have as solid an underpinning of groove as one could ever reasonably ask. The melody over top in the vocals and guitar shines through accordingly. They’re plenty dug-in, of course, and any record that’s going to push past the 50-minute mark in 2025 better have some perspective to offer, but Woodhawk do. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to save the world, but at least somebody out there is putting love out front with their riffage, duly engaging as that is.

Woodhawk website

Woodhawk on Bandcamp

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Liminal Spirit, Pathways

Pathways is a single-song, just-under-14-minute EP from Milwaukee’s Liminal Spirit, the darkly progressive apparent-solo-project of Jerry Hauppa, who embodies a number of characters in the narrative throughout. Presented on a quick turnaround from the band’s late-2024 self-titled debut LP, the one-tracker nonetheless reaffirms the ambitions of the album before it, while also reinforcing the idea of Liminal Spirit as a still-growing, still-discovering-its-sound outfit. The vocals here, intended to embody multiple archetypal characters like The Patriarch, The Child, The Artisan, The Elder and The Apprentice, come through a vocoder-type treatment, and so where multiple points of view might otherwise be fleshed out and conveyed, the voice remains singular. This is the tradeoff for the intimacy of solo creativity, but one gets the sense from “Pathways” and the self-titled that Liminal Spirit is just beginning to explore the stylistic territory the band will ultimately cover.

Liminal Spirit on Bandcamp

Liminal Spirit on Facebook

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Clarity Vision, Deep Ocean

To follow their 2023 self-titled debut EP (on Addicted Label), Moscow-based doom rocker four-piece Clarity Vision present “Deep Ocean” (or, in Cyrillic:
“Глубокий океан”), a six-minute standalone single that soon makes its way via cymbal-wash from its beginning waves and quiet guitar into a procession of stately classic doom metal, big on swing and bigger on impact. The kind of riff that would make Leif Edling smile. Galina Shpakovskaya‘s voice is suited to the movement of the riffs, floating over with melodic echo but keeping a mystique that reminds of mid-period The Wounded Kings, when all was dark and mystery. Guitarist Alexey Roslyakov, bassist Alexey Roslyakov and drummer Mikhail Markelov hold the march steady for the duration, and although I’ve never come close to knowing even the slightest bit of Russian, Clarity Vision remind that we all speak the same language when it comes to being completely and utterly doomed.

Clarity Vision links

Addicted Label links

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My intent was to catch Columbus, Ohio, psych rockers EYE when they hit Brooklyn the night before, but a yes-that-late workday prevented me from making it to the show in time. As such, there was a tinge of stubbornness that came with the decision to head down to Philly on Friday night and see EYE at Johnny Brenda‘s on a bill that also included opener Randall of Nazareth and local heroes Serpent Throne as headliners. Even if I wasn’t doing it partly out of frustration, that’s a pretty killer lineup and I figured that if I’m going to refuse to miss EYE rolling through, that’s the show to refuse to miss.

Everything was fine until, just as I was getting on I-95 and approaching downtown Philly, the Google Maps app on my phone shit the bed. I wound up finding Frankford Ave., but going the wrong way down it — after going the right way and then turning around to be wrong; a very me way of getting lost — and having no idea what the hell I was doing. I called The Patient Mrs. and wound up calling out street names as I passed by them until she could figure out where I was and get me turned back around the right way. Which was the way I’d gone initially. Ugh.

Even with getting all turned around, it was early when I got to Johnny Brenda’s. Early enough so that the upstairs room above the bar/restaurant that serves as the venue proper wasn’t open yet. The woman at the door looked at me, asked me if I was in a band, and when I said no, sent me on my way. I wasn’t drinking, had nowhere to be, so I sat down at a table, took out a notebook and ordered a caesar salad to help pass the time. It arrived some moments later a whole wedge of iceberg lettuce resting on a generous dollop of dressing, topped with a grilled breast of chicken — all the ingredients of a caesar salad waiting to be chopped up and turned into one. I was happy to kill another two or three minutes obliging my dinner its construction.

These are the hazards of going to shows alone, I thought to myself as I made my way up to the balcony to do some more writing. Downstairs the DJ was just beginning to spin heavy ’70s rock — familiarities from Blue Cheer and early Pentagram met with modern derivatives from Graveyard and Kadavar — and there were still about 40 minutes to pass before Randall of Nazareth took the stage. They went slow. I wrote, screwed around on the internet, loaded this site to make sure the radio stream was still up, then did it again, looked over to the bar, waited. Waited. Finally, tired of being in that spot at that table on the balcony, I went downstairs and waited there, stood in the back for a while went through the same routine all over.

It’s not that the show was late, I was just early. Randall of Nazareth — AKA guitarist/vocalist Randall Huth of underrated PA pastoralists Pearls and Brass — went on at about 9:20PM, maybe a couple minutes after, but that was hardly off the scheduled start time, I’m just awkward. Huth put out an album under the Randall of Nazareth moniker on Drag City in 2007, and though I was always curious as to what it might sound like, it eluded me. I’d hoped for a copy at the merch table, or better, something newer, an independently released CDR or something like that, but no dice.

Still, Huth brought to his acoustic solo set much the same sense of town fair twang he brings to the sepia blues-worship of Pearls and Brass — it was mostly the context was different. He had two acoustics with him and his vocals were suited to the material, soft and sometimes barely there and never really hitting more than a bluesman’s garble. Perhaps an affectation, but one well used, in any case, and his presence on stage matched. Cutting a humble figure in the spotlight while EYE‘s not-inconsiderable Moog setup loomed in the darkness just a few feet adjacent, Huth played his songs banjo-fast — adding impressive neo-folk fingerpicked noodling to his semi-countrified moodiness on the acoustic guitar — but gave off no perceptible sense of anxiousness. As he turned after his first or second song, he listened to the strings and said, “This is gonna be terrible.” It wasn’t.

As will happen to the acoustic opener at the rock show, a swell of conversational volume gradually took hold the longer he played. In addition to his other songs, he did two instrumentals, one which closed the set, and one cover, and then was gone as quick as he’d gotten started once he took the stage. EYE arrived shortly thereafter and started into their first song I think before anyone actually realized they were beginning with a jam that sort of gradually took shape as a classic progressive space rocking thrust, very much indebted to Hawkwind but more visceral necessarily than their 2011 full-length, Center of the Sun (review here) — re-released by Kemado earlier this year — might have you believe. The Moog, handled by Lisa Smith, played a major role in the band’s sound, and Smith added vocals to those of drummer Brandon Smith — it was reportedly his birthday — and guitarist Matt Auxier for three-part post-lysergic ritual paeans to the cosmos. They were an easy band to dig.

Almost immediately, I was glad to have made the trip. Bassist Matt Bailey locked into the groove with Brandon, which allowed Matt to explore a solar system of effects while Lisa tore into a raging solo or two. Parts of songs I recognized from Center of the Sun, but some of the material seemed to be new as well, or at least more loosely constructed for a live setting, the band using the space afforded them by the Moog to wander where and when they willed. Their repetitions proved almost hypnotic, but were very definitely headed in that direction, and if 2013 is to bring new recordings from EYE, they’ll be welcome by me. They had space rock down, and the crowd that had been growing at a steady clip since the show started only agreed more as time went on.

When it was Serpent Throne‘s time to take the stage, I realized just how much of the room was their audience. They conquered Johnny Brenda’s before playing a single note as only the best of local noteworthies can, inspiring a particular devotion for their instrumental sonic niche somewhere ’70s motor groove, doomly stomp, classic dual guitar metal and devil-loving stoner rock. The brotherly duo of guitarist Demian Fenton and drummer Sean-Paul Fenton dominated the room, but neither bassist Colin Smith or by-no-means-second guitarist Don Argott gave any ground of their own real estate — and it was theirs but the time they actually started playing. The place lit up for “Rock Formation” from 2009’s The Battle of Old Crow and continued the enthusiasm for cuts like “Controlled by Lunar Forces” or the title-track from 2010’s White Summer – Black Winter, which Demian preceded with a warning that, “it was a long one.”

He had a mic, despite the band’s being instrumental-only, and the between-song banter showed his familiarity with the room and the people in it. New cut “Foxtrot” from a forthcoming release reportedly titled Brother Lucifer was advanced with a dedication to “any Vietnam vets in the room,” which drew a couple laughs, and afterwards the guitarist apologized to Vietnam vets everywhere before Serpent Throne launched into “Wheels of Satan” from their 2007 debut, Ride Satan Ride, the classic biker riffing of which earned the night’s most vehement response. By then, I was sitting at the bar — again, not drinking — but watching from there I could find no argument against what they had on offer nor with “yes” vote the rifferendum gleaned. Johnny Brenda’s had packed out pretty well and when Serpent Throne were done, the staff of the place came through and said they were towing cars outside, which may or may not have been a load, but having already gotten lost once, I wasn’t about to risk having to look for a city tow yard. I cut out on the quick like I do.

Still without GPS, the ride back was pulled off successfully by memory, and the act of mental engagement was enough to keep me awake, as if the day’s news reports weren’t enough. Nothing makes your shit feel trivial faster than dead kids, and rightly so. I was glad for the opportunity to get out of my head for a little while, and I don’t think I was the only one.

Extra pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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