Labyrinthine flute-worshipers Blood Ceremony released their sophomore full-length, Living with the Ancients, in early March via Rise Above/Metal Blade. The album is chock full of ’70s atmospherics and acid-forest-prog riff and flute interplay, and has justified the considerable buzz Blood Ceremony received after their 2008 self-titled debut. They made the switch from working with Billy Anderson on that album to Sanford Parker on this one, and unsurprisingly, came out of it with exactly what they were looking for. Light up your candles.

In case you haven’t yet heard the record, I was fortunate enough to receive permission to host the track “My Demon Brother” for your aural enjoyment. Check it out on the player below, and dig the quote underneath from guitarist Sean Kennedy about the song’s origins:

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“‘My Demon Brother’ is a song of invocation; it’s an entreaty to a dark spirit that doesn’t seem to want to appear.  Imagine a Hammer Horror-style black mass and you’ll have an idea of the vibe we were going for.” — Sean Kennedy

World traveler that I am (ha.), I’m in Maryland for the weekend, and while I hope to do some record shopping before I leave — it’s a maybe at this point — far more pressing in my head at the moment is the fact that I left the leather carry-case with all my clean clothes and toiletries back in Jersey, meaning I have nothing but the brown khakis and the Saint Vitus shirt on my back to last me through till at least Sunday afternoon. Not a crisis, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t note how incredibly stupid I felt as The Patient Mrs. left the hotel room a bit ago to go replenish our stock of toothpaste, deodorant, etc.

Tomorrow, it’s off to the fat-guy-clothes store. One can only hope they sell Black Sabbath t-shirts. This is me, not holding my breath.

A cool note for the curious: You might recall last year when I interviewed Greg Anderson about the Goatsnake reunion amongst other things. Well, Japanese blogger Keisuke Iwaya of waya-waya.cocolog-nifty.com just yesterday posted a Japanese translation of that interview, and though I’m completely ignorant of the beautiful Japanese language as I am of so many other things in this world, I think it’s fucking awesome anyway, so please check it out if you get the chance.

We end this week with Drunken Monkey‘s footage of Ghost from Roadburn. They’re playing NYC in early June, and I’m looking forward to that, but it was cool to catch them in Tilburg as well, as you’ll see in the clip above. Several of the songs from their Opus Eponymous debut have been in heavy rotation both in the mental jukebox and the actual CD player of late, so I figured it was a good way to go. I wonder if anyone has told them yet that the backing band behind Evil Pope Guy has the same stage costumes as Goblin Cock. Sometimes life is fun.

Next week I’ll have a fucking awesome interview I did yesterday with Justin Broadrick about Jesu‘s new album and the apparently ongoing Godflesh reunion, as well as the numbers for April (not as dismal as I thought) and reviews of new albums by Virginian progressive space rockers Corsair and Indianapolis trad-doom frontrunners The Gates of Slumber, among others. I don’t know how, but there always seems to be something killer on the horizon, so although I say it more than Yankees radio announcer John “Pure Radio Gold” Sterling says that you can’t predict baseball, stay tuned, because there’s good stuff to come.

I don’t know if guitarist/vocalist Bill Steer is a big blackjack player and that’s what he hand in mind in naming Firebird’s sixth album Double Diamond, but he dealt a hell of a hand in 2009’s Grand Union, and there was no way that was going to be an easy album to beat. Partnered once again with Rise Above (who, in turn, are partnered with Metal Blade, at least as far as the American distribution goes), London residents Steer, drummer Ludwig Witt (also of Spiritual Beggars) and new bassist Greyum May (ex-Ozric Tentacles) – the latter who may not have actually played on the album; no liner notes with review mp3s and online info is vague – present a new collection of tracks very much in league with Firebird’s stated classic rock mission. Double Diamond is somewhat moodier tonally than Grand Union, and feels less upbeat in general, but Steer’s songwriting and use of structure and AABB rhyming is, as ever, deservedly at the fore, and the rhythm section this time out is as tight as the tracks require without sounding mechanical in the slightest. It’s a solid rock record from a band who makes solid rock records. Maybe not much in the way of surprises, but that’s never been Firebird’s thing. If you’ve got a rock itch, they’ll scratch it.

He’s among the more underrated riff writers of his generation, and Steer (once a member of grind pioneers Carcass) shows again on Double Diamond his inner boogie. Beginning with “Soul Saviour,” the songs push through at a mostly middling pace, but Firebird’s strength has always been the verse/chorus interplay, and there are a few gems on their sixth outing as well, second track “Ruined” among them. Steer’s guitar line is well accompanied by the bass and Witt’s fills. The song feels less blatant in its ‘70s rock worship than did “Soul Saviour,” but there’s no question to which decade the guitar solo belongs. It could be that Firebird are trying to marry their influences with something more current, and it that’s so, I’m glad to see they didn’t have to sacrifice the catchiness in the process. Their formula doesn’t allow much stylistic movement – they’re not going to suddenly go hardcore on one of these songs, and rightfully not – but as the embodiment of a “what you see is what you get” mentality, Double Diamond does show some progress. If for no other reason than that a third of the band has changed, the dynamic has shifted in kind. “Bright Lights” and the shorter “For Crying Out Loud” find Steer up front in both guitar and vocal presence – it’s his band, at the end of the day – but “Farewell” steps down the energy to a kind of half-ballad level, and is another example of the outfit trying something different.

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It’s hard to discuss Electric Wizard, the spearheads of an occultic movement within modern doom, and not get lost in either hyperbolic praise, devil references or ’70s horror imagery. Indeed, if you look at the bulk of what’s been said about the Dorset group’s seventh studio album, Black Masses (by myself as well), you’ll find it can be classified in one or all of those categories. Perhaps the best thing I can say about that is that neither the imagery nor the hyperbole are unearned on the band’s part.

Because Electric Wizard are, in fact, one of the most important groups in doom today. Their earlier works like 1997’s Come My Fanatics and 2000’s landmark Dopethrone have an influence that pulsates throughout the genre, and even their most recent outings, Black Masses and its 2007 predecessor, Witchcult Today, have been responsible for setting much of the course thematically for a growing crop of bands. As founder, guitarist and vocalist, Jus Oborn has become the very sort of cult figurehead so many of Electric Wizard‘s songs describe.

Joined in the current incarnation of Electric Wizard by American expat guitarist Liz Buckingham (ex-13, ex-Sourvein), tattoo-covered bassist Tas Danazoglou and hi-hat shunning drummer Shaun Rutter, Oborn stripped down the ultra-fuzzed style of Witchcult Today for the latest album, putting a special focus on the interplay of his and Buckingham‘s guitars and the strength of the songwriting. Since both records were put to tape at Toe Rag Studios in London by Liam Watson, it’s that much clearer that the efforts of Oborn and the band have paid off.

The simplistic brilliance of the opening title-track, the revelatory psychedelic horror of “Turn Off Your Mind,” the misanthropic “Scorpio Curse” and the sexually-charged “Venus in Furs” all seethe with an attitude and atmosphere undeniably Electric Wizard‘s own. And of those who would pretend to their Satanic majesty (see first sentence above), it’s becoming increasingly clear that none of them can capture terrors quite as vivid. There’s only one Electric Wizard, and they didn’t happen overnight. Their demented anthems are unparalleled.

In the interview below, Jus Oborn — a week under the weather with the flu at the time of our conversation — discusses the songwriting process behind Black Masses and some of his more surprising points of influence, as well as the prospect of much-demanded touring in the US, the challenges in crafting memorable choruses, and much more.

Complete Q&A is after the jump. Please enjoy.

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This morning I interviewed Jus Oborn from Electric Wizard about the band’s triumphant dark masterpiece, Black Masses. Keep an eye out for that in the coming weeks, but until then, here’s a video made by Raymond Salvatore Harmon using the film El Topo for the track “Scorpio Curse” from said album, which finally gets its official US release next Tuesday. Appropriate as anything could ever be for this song:

The hype for Swedish retro Satanists Ghost (not to be confused with the long-running Japanese avant rock troupe) has been overwhelming. I don’t think a day has gone by in the past month that I didn’t see someone recommending their Rise Above Records debut, Opus Eponymous – presumably because “self-titled” wouldn’t have been wordy enough – either in a review or random internet rambling. Usually that kind of thing is a major turnoff. I don’t want to hear the hyperbole about how melodically brilliant the sub-King Diamond singing is, or how an awesomely catchy track like “Elizabeth” gets stuck in your head after listening, or how the riffs sound like Blue Öyster Cult and the cover art is spooky and blue and whatever else. Just let me listen to the fucking thing and find out for myself if it’s any good. Back off, universe.

As ever, that has nothing to do with the band, which is comprised of six anonymous players who wear masks so people won’t know who they are and who may or may not be from other acts (being signed to Rise Above so quickly would seem to support that theory), but it does affect the listen. The truth of the matter, however, is that Ghost’s Opus Eponymous is a really solid album. In terms of aesthetic and execution, it’s clear the band knew what they wanted to sound like going into the project, and for their first record, they absolutely accomplish a deranged, early ‘80s atmosphere made all the more memorable by haunting choruses and capable songwriting. They’re hardly the first group to come out of Sweden with a “born too late” mentality, but between the overtly Satanic themes, the tight, crisp performances and the proto-black metal tonality, Ghost genuinely offer something unique to the listener bold enough to tackle Opus Eponymous.

The album revels in its pretense. From the title onward, everything the band does is grandiose, melodically conscious and awash in self-awareness. If you took away the devil worship, aside from losing half the fun of the album, you’d be left with a blend of ‘80s heavy rock and metal, guitars approaching a Megadeth, “Symphony of Destruction”-style cadence on “Ritual” but cutting quickly to one of Ghost’s many brain-glue choruses. “Ritual” is a pretty solid representation of the overall approach of Opus Eponymous, blending straightforward rhythms with eerie synth and guitar lines and the otherworldly vocals. By contrast, “Elizabeth,” which immediately follows, is more outright Mercyful Fate-ed, and “Satan Prayer,” with more prominent organ and busier drumming, sounds like Lucifer’s disco party. “Stand by Him” isn’t as dark as the earlier “Con Clavi Con Dio” – effectively the opener following intro “Deus Culpa” – but the two have plenty in common in terms of thematics and atmosphere.

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The seventh album from Dorset cult kings (and queen), Electric Wizard’s Black Masses (Rise Above) cements the band as one of the most important and accomplished acts in doom. The burgeoning genre of occult doom – perpetrated by acts like Hour of 13, Cough and to a lesser extent The Wounded Kings – owes as much of its origin to Electric Wizard as it does to Christopher Lee in The Satanic Rites of Dracula, and on Black Masses, guitarist/vocalist Justin Oborn (usually referred to as “Jus”) and company show why they deserve to be thought of as forebears of the style. Where past Electric Wizard efforts have scattered in different directions, trying to find themselves musically as much as in the lineup – take 2000’s classic Dopethrone and the 2002 follow-up, Let Us Prey, for example – Black Masses builds on and refines the ideas brought forth on 2007’s stellar Witchcult Today, offering a different take on some of the same notions musically and lyrically, while also clearly showing growth, development, and an almost scary self-assurance.

I’ve seen remarks around about the production on Black Masses, and indeed I find it’s worthy of discussion. Produced, like Witchcult Today, at ToeRag Studios by Oborn and Liam Watson, this 59-minute collection seems initially much less upfront with its fuzz than was the predecessor. Oborn and fellow-guitarist Liz Buckingham’s guitars come off as buried in service of Tas Danazoglou’s overwhelming bass. But I don’t actually think they are. Rather, it seems to me that Oborn and Buckingham are just tuned so low, and so much of the lower frequencies have been brought out in the recording, that the guitars and the bass sound blended together at points. On “Scorpio Curse,” where the riff bounces into higher-register territory (all things relative), they come through just fine. Because of this, I wonder if Electric Wizard aren’t pushing the boundaries of their media. I’d almost like to hear Black Masses on some uncompressed, super hi-resolution digital format, and see if Oborn and Buckingham weren’t clearer. I haven’t experienced the 2LP version of Black Masses, only the CD as is my wont, but I understand where the comments are coming from. I’ve heard that Shaun Rutter’s drums are too far forward, but I don’t think that’s the case either. I think they just cut through the ultra-low-end of the guitars and Danazoglou’s bass.

For what it’s worth, I like the sound of Black Masses. The expectation in doom is that the guitars are going to be out front and that everything else, vocals included, will be in service to the riff. Electric Wizard are a riff-centric band, no question, and one of Oborn’s great gifts is in their crafting, but Black Masses delivers its eight component tracks in experiential fashion. Once I’m sucked into the world of the album, I’m neither thinking of the production nor wanting more of any single instrument, guitar, bass or drums. Instead, I’m marveling at the balance Electric Wizard strike between their cultish atmospherics, their driving rhythms and their superb songwriting. The first half of a killer opening duo, “Black Mass” contains just one of Black Masses’ several distinguished choruses, and puts you right where Oborn, Buckingham, Danazoglou and Rutter want you to be. The sound is huge but not crushing in the modern sense of doom. The guitars don’t crunch; they wash. It’s a lyrical chant you want to join while listening, and Rutter’s propelling ride cymbal only seems to drive the point home. As the song slows to its 30-seconds-of-feedback finish and a sampled female horror scream leads into “Venus in Furs,” you’re more likely than not to already be won over by Black Masses. If it hasn’t happened yet, it probably won’t.

“Venus in Furs” might be the best performance Oborn has ever given on vocals, and a prime example of Electric Wizard’s songwriting acumen some 17 years into their tenure. As memorable as anything on Witchcult Today, it feels more stripped down lyrically – not necessarily simpler in idea, but decidedly less wordy – and only proves catchier for it. Oborn delivers the title line with perverted sexual longing, proclaiming, “I am the zodiac/I am the stars/You are the sorceress/Venus in furs” and holding out the last word as his voice fades into a riffy abyss. The vocals on Black Masses are presented in a range of effects, and the ghostly wisping in and out of “Venus in Furs” works especially well. Again, guitar noise ends the song, leading into a sampled bell and the mellotron-infused “The Nightchild.” More proclamations from Oborn – “I am the nightchild/Shadows gather round me” – during an anthemic chorus offset by riff churn and bass overload from Danazoglou and I don’t even care anymore, I just want to quit my job and go wherever Electric Wizard are going to be playing this song next. Between this cut, “Venus in Furs” and the later “Turn Off Your Mind,” Electric Wizard effectively repattern what’s thought of as their typical style. “The Nightchild” doesn’t do anything outlandish or really different in terms of structure – it’s got eight minutes of its verses, chorus, solo, bridge, ending chant – but it’s also impeccably performed with not a moment out of place. It’s not often you hear dirty doom this cleanly executed.

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When I sat down last night to make my Top 20 of 2010 list, I’d only heard Electric Wizard‘s seventh full-length, Black Masses, one time. And no, the copy I ordered more than a month ago from Rise Above Records still hasn’t shown up; it was the second one I ordered from All That is Heavy that came. Having only given it a once-over, I knew it deserved to be on this list, but in all fairness to every other album I listened to and/or reviewed in the last 12 months, I just couldn’t put it any higher than this. Call it a timing issue.

I’m going to post a full review sometime in the next week or so, but in the several subsequent listens I’ve given Black Masses since the first, it appears to be an evolution of the occultic ideas presented on 2007’s Witchcult Today: plenty of rituals being performed, plenty of ’70s boobage throughout, demons being called upon, and so forth. I’m looking forward to digging into it further, but so far, Jus Oborn‘s vocals on “Venus in Furs,” the bounding riff that leads “Patterns of Evil” and the anthemic chorus of “The Nightchild” all make Black Masses a worthy inclusion on this list.

And yeah, I’m sure that when I think back on 2010, Black Masses will be more prevalent than 20th place in my mind, but without knowing the record better than I do at this point, I’d be insulting the 19 other releases to come by buying into the hype and rating this higher just because it’s Electric Wizard and I’m excited about it. Incidentally, they’ve set a Jan. 18, 2011 release date for the official American issue of the album, so maybe Black Masses‘ll show up on next year’s list as well. In any case, expect much pronouncement of genius to come.