I’m not saying the heavy underground took Torche for granted, but yes, in fact that’s very much what I’m saying. The Miami-based innovators of what for a time was called sludge-pop called it quits in 2022, when founding frontman Steve Brooks announced he was leaving the band just a few nights before they featured at Desertfest New York (review here) and began a Fall tour alongside Meshuggah. No one would accuse the band, founded in 2004 and with five full-lengths to their credit — the last of them being 2019’s Admission (review here) — of owing anybody anything, but it was still a bummer to see them disband. Their 2005 self-titled debut (discussed here) had taken the bomb-toned emo-punk leanings of Brooks‘ prior band, Floor, and crafted a worthy successor to that band’s landmark 2002 self-titled LP (discussed here), pushing into a new kind of heavy rock that was as dense as any colossally-riffed nodding doom, but uptempo, major key, and with a shove that would become a signature.

Comprised then of Brooks, guitarist Juan Montoya, drummer Rick Smith and bassist Jon Nuñez — the band’s final lineup would see Nuñez on guitar in place of Montoya and Eric Hernandez on bass — Torche issued the In Return EP as a combined 10″ and CD with a rare non-booby-lady cover by John Dyer Baizley of Baroness, pressed through Robotic Empire in 2007, between the self-titled and their 2008 Hydra Head-backed breakout, Meanderthal. It’s a blip in their career arc, but at just 19 minutes and seven songs, it serves the immediacy of what Torche did in a way that a full album never could. That’s not to say their records were too long — the self-titled was 29 minutes, Meanderthal still just 36; they never went over 40 — but that the EP format was suited to the rush of a piece like In Return‘s title-track, a two-and-a-half-minute burst of solar-matter-made-riff that feels like it should fall apart before its first verse but that holds itself together right into its midsection stops and shifts into a stoner-metal nod with Brooks‘ always clean vocals over top. Torche songs never wanted for having a lot going on. On In Return, that could be true without their being more overwhelming than they wanted.

In Return highlights what works in Torche‘s sound in a way that their albums couldn’t, and it wasn’t the only EP they put out during their time that did so — 2010’s Songs for Singles (review here) had enough substance to carry the band from Meanderthal to 2012’s Harmonicraft (review here) with little dip in momentum; certainly a full touring schedule helped in that regard as well — but is a special moment just the same, and not only because it features at its penultimate moment one of the heaviest and most righteously dug-in tracks Torche would ever produce in the outright-monstrous “Tarpit Carnivore.” Amid a riff in the imitable low tone that few but Brooks could hope to conjure, simple lyrics like “Sabretooth mastodon/Dire wolf/Native American” feel duly primal in a way that presages the coming of a next generation of heavy purveyors; these are lessons bands like Conan would pick up and use as a foundation to embark in new, sometimes much more outwardly ferocious directions.

But In Return is no more only about “Tarpit Carnivore” than it is any of its other six component cuts — well, maybe a little; they do revel in it and build up to the track’s arrival with the angular procession in the two-minute instrumental “Olympus Mons,” named for the Martian volcano that, to-date, is the largest discovered in the solar system. Even so, that movement from one to the other is just part of an overarching flow that begins with the suitably cannon-esque shots of distortion and crash fired at the outset of “Warship” and continues in the declarative stomp that emerges from the title-track. As tightly packed as the songs seem to be in themselves, they in conversation with each other as well, whether it’s “In Return” fading into the explosion of light at the start of “Bring Me Home” — ahead of the curve on heavygaze by more than half a decade, with its resonant vocal melody and airy guitar — and the flurried intensity of “Rule the Beast,” which follows with a gallop that rivals what High on Fire might’ve produced at the time while remaining very much its own thing, and fun as part of that in a way many of their peers couldn’t be. As much ‘worship’ pervades the heavy underground, whether it’s volume, tone, riff, weed, or whatever as the object of it, Torche were one of few bands who could actually cast a song as a celebration.

To wit, the EP follows the great flattening of “Tarpit Carnivore,” Torche further the onslaught in “Hellion,” the closer and longest track at a whopping 3:37. Smith‘s toms take a beating as thrown-down-the-stairs fills pepper the chorus, and that hook is anchored by heft inherited from the song prior while the melodic vocals, still part-shout, sneer out the title line. It’s an exciting sound at its root, and Torche never gave the impression of not knowing what they were going for as a band, even as an LP like 2015’s Restarter (review here) expanded the sonic palette, and so when they end “Hellion” by scorching the ground with feedback, there’s little chance it’s a coincidence. Torche have laid waste. It took them less than 20 minutes to do so.

That’s the underlying message of In Return, really. If you heard Torche at the time it came out and were curious who this band were going to become, In Return provided a vital, crushing answer, with maximum efficiency. Torche couldn’t very well have spent their career putting out half-albums and attained the kind of profile they did, but they were unquestionably suited to the format, and In Return demonstrates their ability to tell a story in sound, mirroring the relative brevity of their songs themselves with the presentation thereof. I don’t have a bad word to say about their work more broadly unless you count “fuck yeah,” but that In Return was anything more than a tossoff to begin with epitomizes the singular nature of it and the band, who for all the acclaim they received during their run still seem to be somewhat underappreciated in what they accomplished.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading.

—

This weekend is kind of a marathon. Tonight we’re going to Connecticut, then tomorrow back down to NJ to see Slomosa at Starland Ballroom, and Sunday we’re having family friends over, so yeah, I expect by the start of next week I’ll be duly shitkicked. Big change.

Thanks to everybody who checked out the Desertfest NYC coverage last week. I got some nice comments particularly about the photos, which was great since I’m well aware taking pictures isn’t always my strong suit. I did get some decent ones though. Maybe hanging out with the likes of Tim Bugbee had an effect, though it feels like flattering myself to even think so. Maybe I was just the right amount of stoned. Who knows.

Look out for a Terry Gross review next week, that Slomosa live review, and premieres for Starmonger, Northern Heretic and Caixao. We’re coming up on the next Quarterly Review. I had wanted to do it at the start of September — you can see how that went by the lack of Quarterly Review happening — and as a result of not getting it done, it’s currently slated for two weeks starting Oct. 7. There’s a ton coming out right around then, and I’m already doubled-up on some of those days, which isn’t what I want to be when I’m already writing about 10 different releases in one post, but I’ve done it before and I’ll survive again. It will be good to have another 100 albums off my back in terms of things I want to have covered in some way — whether that’s Alunah (out today), Massive Hassle, Steve Von Till, Castle and Elder or Sandveiss, Endless Floods, Land Mammal and Satan’s Satyrs. One way or the other, it is packed. I’ve got like two slots left and then I need to start putting in alternatives and filling the next one.

Some of that stuff I’m behind on, but one thing about that is I think I care less about timeliness than I ever have. Part of that is reactionary. I see things on social media, bands of the minute, whatever it is, and while I know lists can be fun however often they’re derided for ranking things that shouldn’t be ranked — a fair argument — to me it just seems emblematic of the current disposability of creative work. It says that this stuff matters when it comes out and then it goes away to make room for the next thing. I’ll do a year-end list this year because I feel like I have to, like it’s expected of the site and good for me to have to refer to later, but I can’t help but feel like new music is given an expiration date when it neither needs nor deserves one. If an album came out in June, what, that means October is too late? By what standard could that possibly be true in anything other than the setting of panicked internet FOMO capitalism in which the heavy underground permeates?

As far as that does, I’m a do what I want, and by my own standard. That’s why I started this site in the first place. That doesn’t make me cool, just old and ornery. The cool kids share memes.

I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Have fun out there while the weather’s still good (if it is where you are) and don’t forget to hydrate. See you back here Mubblesday for that Slomosa review and whatever news I’m probably trying to catch up on. Ha.

FRM.

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It’s ironic that an album so clearly based around the end of existence as we know it through a sixth great extinction should be so comforting. In 2005, when Red Sparowes issued At the Soundless Dawn, the notion on which the 62-minute seven-tracker was based was a relatively unknown idea, and since then not only has the science behind it become more widely accepted but countless other bands have taken their cues from Red Sparowes and from the world around them generally and openly discussed issues of climate change, nature and humanity’s relation to it. It doesn’t seem fair to attribute that to the Los Angeles-based outfit alone — everyone lives on the planet, after all, and the subject is relevant politically as well as in terms of the sheer ecosystem destruction — but they helped pave the way certainly. Perhaps doubly impressive that’s the case since At the Soundless Dawn is instrumental.

The subject matter was just one of the ways in which Red Sparowes‘ debut, out initially on CD through Neurot Recordings and vinyl through Robotic Empire, was groundbreaking. Post-metal was just beginning to take shape at the time, with stylistic godfathers Neurosis having released The Eye of Every Storm and Isis issuing Panopticon the year before. Bands like Minsk and Mouth of the Architect also making striking debuts and Russian Circles were beginning to find their way in terms of aesthetic. It was an exciting time for a new progressive vision of heavy, and At the Soundless Dawn offered not only that, but a distinct literary sensibility owing in part to the structure of its titles. To wit, the tracklisting:

1. Alone and Unaware, the Landscape was Transformed in Front of Our Eyes
2. Buildings Began to Stretch Wide Across the Sky, And the Air Filled With A Reddish Glow
3. The Soundless Dawn Came Alive as Cities Began to Mark the Horizon
4. Mechanical Sounds Cascaded Through the City Walls and Everyone Reveled in Their Ignorance
5. A Brief Moment of Clarity Broke Through the Deafening Hum, But it Was Too Late
6. Our Happiest Days Slowly Began to Turn into Dust
7. The Sixth Extinction Crept Up Slowly, Like Sunlight Through the Shutters, as We Looked Back in Regret

Reading those now it’s hard not to think of looking at wildfires in the distance, raging so hard that the smoke they’re putting out is adding to the pollution that was their cause in the first place.

Each track, thusly descriptive, becomes an evocative chapter in this overarching narrative, and with ties to both Isis through guitarist/organist Bryant Clifford Meyer and guitarist/bassist Jeff Caxide and Neurosis through guitarist/pianist Josh Graham — who handled visuals for Neurosis live for years as well as artwork and did the same for Red Sparowes; his art has continued to work in themes of nature and climate — as well as Marriages through bassist/pedal steel guitarist Greg Burns, Red Sparowes immediately had the pedigree to validate their ambition. That is to say, 15 years ago, a band making their debut on Neurot with members associated with Isis, Neurosis and Marriages would have an easy time getting their foot in the door of listeners. I have to think that the same would apply if At the Soundless Dawn were coming out today. Maybe more so.

On top of that, however, Red Sparowes would earn every ounce of acclaim they’d reap. The depths and sprawl of At the Soundless Dawn remain likewise immersive and staggering, and in moments of shining pedal steel giving way to ambient synthesized and manipulated voice drones like “Mechanical Sounds Cascaded…” or in the relatively driving recurring riffs of “Buildings Began to Stretch Wide…” — particularly Neurosis-derived — and the circa-midpoint wash of 19-minute closer “The Sixth Extinction Crept Up Slowly…,” and in the quiet reaches that follow and seem to manifest extinction itself, At the Soundless Dawn succeeds in telling its story without saying a single word. And though obviously the finale is a focal point as it consumes nearly a third of the album’s total runtime, shorter pieces like “A Brief Moment of Clarity…” — the pedal steel of which reminds me of repurposed Yawning Man guitar tone — and “The Soundless Dawn Came Alive…” and the penultimate echoing “Our Happiest Days…” play an essential role in casting a vision of heavy that is no less meditative than it is weighted. These are ideas one might now take for granted in no small part because of the work Red Sparowes do in these songs.

The band would have reunited in April — they may yet do so in 2021 — at the Roadburn Festival in the Netherlands. Timely because of the 15th anniversary of this album, no doubt their taking the stage would and will be welcome anytime it happens. The lineup would change over time as Caxide, Graham and original drummer Dana Berkowitz left and the likes of Emma Ruth Rundle (then also of Marriages), Dave Clifford (Pleasure Forever) and Brendan Tobin (Made Out of Babies) — among others — would make their way into and out of the group. The second album, 2006’s Every Red Heart Shines Toward the Red Sun, took on a more directly sociopolitcal theme while furthering the debut’s sonic purposes, and 2008’s Toshi Kasai-produced Aphorisms EP and 2010’s The Fear is Excruciating, but Therein Lies the Answer long-player (on Sargent House) — which I apparently bought at Roadburn 2010 — round out the main catalog, though splits along the way with Gregor Samsa, Grails, and Made Out of Babies & Battle of Mice provided quicker immersion.

Maybe Red Sparowes ran their natural course in the same way that Isis did, though it certainly happened in less time for Bryant Clifford Meyer in the band considered widely his own. I’ll admit it had been a while since I last listened in earnest to At the Soundless Dawn, and as I remember seeing them during this era (as much as I remember anything from that era), I was looking forward to doing so again now. The world is what it is. Sad, mostly. At the Soundless Dawn is warm and prescient in kind, and offers escapism even as it hinges on direct confrontation with complexities and the delirium tremens of our times.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

What would it take for a global pandemic to fall out of the lead spot on the news? I don’t know who asked, but I’m sorry they did. The killing of George Floyd is a tragedy, and while I’m skeptical it will result in any grand structural change, particularly with white apartheid embedded in the current structure of the American republic owing to gerrymandering and voter suppression, seeing people out across the country calling for change has been a reminder that the majority of citizens across demographics actually support progressive causes, and it is the minority who lead and do so to serve their own interests.

Consider the US president mobilizing prison guards to disperse a peaceful protest to take a photo holding a Bible in front of a church that would soon denounce him. Constitutional? No, not really. More like white supremacist fascism couched as “strong leadership.” In fact there is nothing strong about it.

I generally don’t believe in the power of nonviolent protest to enact meaningful change, but if you haven’t given money to Black Lives Matter, the ACLU, the Southern Poverty Law Center, the Bail Fund, or any other progressive cause speaking out this week, now’s a good time.

I understand now how Germans who disagreed with the Nazis got stuck. I have a home. I have a young child. My wife has a job. We have this house. And who knows if we could get across a border anyway? Where would we go? Tilburg? Canada? Ireland? The Patient Mrs. and I have talked numerous times about “when it’s time to leave” and honestly, the mobilization of legally-specious secret police forces — and subsequent lying to the press about it — seems to be a good time. Hell, locking kids in cages seemed to be a good time, even if our white privilege protected us from actually experiencing that horror first-hand. But where would we go? Could we just leave? What would we take? What about my family? What about her family?

I don’t hold any great love of this country. I speak English, which is convenient here, but it’s convenient in a bunch of places. I think patriotism is downright silly, but I love my family. I love her family. What about them? What about the few real-life friends that I have? Some have already left. Should I follow? Can I?

That’s how it happens. It’s easy now to look back on World War II-era Europe and wonder why everyone being persecuted or who were scared of speaking out didn’t just leave. Many did. And honestly, my wife is a published author on record as supporting radical left wing and feminist ideals, and because of that I fear for her. But we have a life. Can we go? Is it time? Am I being paranoid? Would they ever “come for us” in any meaningful sense? And even if they didn’t, doesn’t that just make me all the more complicit if I don’t actively resist? Isn’t the all-or-nothing nature of fascism, not to mention the life and death stakes, emblematic of the need to take a strong stand against it?

And then it’s too late.

That’s how it happens.

Life unfolds in a series of minutes spent waiting for other things.

I would say practice radical love, but I’m not sure that’s the answer. If you’re out there protesting, or vigil-ing, or whatever, watch your back, and be fucking careful. There’s still a pandemic on, even if the numbers are down right now.

FRM.

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[Click play above to stream Henryspenncer’s Hypnosis Gumbo in full. Album is out April 12 through Robotic Empire and Bookmaker Records.]

It’s nearly impossible to imagine that Henryspenncer didn’t name their new album, Hypnosis Gumbo, after its own sound. Released through Robotic Empire and Bookmaker Records, the Parisian instrumental post-heavy-rockers’ fourth full-length enacts varying modes of trance-inducing sonics throughout, from molten chugging to tribal-style percussion to dreamy Western psychedelia, and a given recipe for gumbo being “whatever you got, over rice,” Hypnosis Gumbo makes a fair title for the deeply atmospheric and at times resoundingly weighted outing. Wherever Henryspenncer go in the six-track/42-minute span, they manage to keep a sense of space in the material and offer substance to go with all the otherworldly vibes and patient execution.

None of that is necessarily new from Henryspenncer, which was founded by guitarist/bassist Valentin Féron in 2008, but Hypnosis Gumbo does represent a significant shift in approach, as it’s Féron‘s first long-player with Henryspenncer not executed as a solo artist. In the studio, he worked with drummer/bassist/Rhodes specialist Julien Magot, and since then the lineup has grown even further, with the additions of guitarist Carl Boisson, bassist Charlie Batalla and Thomas Kuratli on electronics. Even with just Féron and Magot on the studio tracks, however, Hypnosis Gumbo is immediately a shift in vibe from Henryspenncer‘s past work, which has its explosively loud moments, but was much more Grails than Pelican and now finds that balance shifted significantly. Presented as two vinyl sides, each opening with its longest track, Hypnosis Gumbo trades the somewhat more intimate feel the project honed previously for a richer and more densely weighted sound that, in addition to its ambient roots, is not at all shy about crushing when to inclined.

The stated central theme of the album is fire, which is fitting enough with the cover art, certainly, and the tones throughout keep plenty warm as well. Opener “Quetzalcoatl” unfolds a rolling groove in Magot‘s drums beneath Féron‘s riffing, freaking out with effects as it makes its way toward a faster push topped by transposed layers of noise, breaking down just past the halfway point only to rebuild again, that noise becoming abrasively high pitched by the end of the song, which gives way to the minimalist, spacious opening of “Relic,” thudding drums growing gradually in intensity atop a bed of drone.

A swell of post-metallic riffing emerges for a moment, but recedes again, and when the guitar comes back, it’s to unleash a slogging chug of doom, that will carry the elephantine stomp to the song’s finish several minutes later, a slow-motion effects swirl growing in intensity near the finish to provide transition into the percussion-led “Vortex,” which closes out side A with a linear build that seems to take cues earlier on from Russian Circles‘ progressivism and in its later reaches from the rhythmic urgency of Neurosis. Neither is a bad cue to take, frankly, and the manner in which Henryspenncer play these influences off each other helps to create an identity not necessarily entirely beholden to either. They come out of with with something individual, in other words, and particularly in context with the breadth of the rest of the album’s first half, they maintain a genuinely experimental feel.

At just past 10 minutes, “Voodoo’s Rising” is the longest cut on Hypnosis Gumbo, and perhaps its most ambitious installment as well, with clanging percussion behind its early rumble, a chaos of Rhodes keys tossed in to enhance the swampy atmosphere, shakers, a growing intensity of drums and noise, and a thrilling final push that, in fine tradition, is torn apart over the last minute or so. Its kitchen-sink approach feels emblematic of the album’s title, and broadens the context in which the subsequent “Foxes” arrives, its relatively subdued open-air guitar more in line with some of what Henryspenncer offered on 2013’s Saturn or 2011’s To the Timeless Valley, even with Magot‘s drums gradually emerging to complement Féron‘s guitar. Somewhat more languid in its execution, it also happens to be particularly hypnotic as it moves with subtle efficiency toward a keyboard-laden apex that fades out before closer “New Days” commences its droney start, setting a bed for what sounds like looped guitar runs and tapped-out notes, Magot joining in to set an overarching groove to the turns as the build gets moving, keys fleshing out the space.

After three minutes into the total six, “New Days” comes to a halt, thickens its tones and rolls out a last nod at full-weight, ending the album with a build on the drums met by key/effects swirl and buried guitar leads that cuts itself short to fade quickly out. Maybe Henryspenncer had such a finish plotted out all along for Hypnosis Gumbo and maybe it just happened to be what worked best when Féron and Magot were putting the record together, but either way, it’s a final emphasis of the new era on which the band has embarked with these tracks. As Henryspenncer has continued to add to their lineup, and particularly as that lineup has started to play live, it seems likely there are more changes in store going forward from here, but with Hypnosis Gumbo as a kind of second debut, the band has given themselves plenty to build upon for the next time out.

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Seattle four-piece Terminal Fuzz Terror pretty clearly have a thing for severe statements. The experimental heavy rockers made their full-length debut in March on Robotic Empire with Vol. 0: In the Shadow of the Mountain (not sure if it’s the one they’re talking about, but I hear Rainier is lovely), and that too had its sharpened edges, the Tad Doyle-recorded tracks quick to turn riffy convention on its head to suit punkishly defiant purposes. In their new video for “Senseless Boogie,” one again finds Terminal Fuzz Terror pushing toward the edge of abrasion for the sake of going against the norm.

It’s an admirable goal, but I’d hardly call the boogie senseless. The boogie is its own excuse for being.

Nonetheless, it’s a killer track and anyone trying to be a wrench in the apparently-ceaseless gears of genre tropes is cool by me. News of its arrival and the video itself follow, courtesy of the PR wire:

MOTOSONIC PSYCH-ROCKERS TERMINAL FUZZ TERROR RELEASE NEW VIDEO ONLINE

The video for “Senseless Boogie”, the newest single from Terminal Fuzz Terror’s Robotic Empre debut, Vol.0: In the Shadow of the Mountain, is now streaming online.

Combining live footage with esoteric drag racing carnage, the video for “Senseless Boogie” is just as chaotic, unhinged, and groovy as the music itself. The Video was filmed by Seattle Photographer/Director Chris Mighton and marks his first collaboration with the band.

ABOUT THE BAND: Terminal Fuzz Terror is a Seattle based Motosonic Rock band comprised of D. Rodriguez (guitar, vocals), D. Nelson (guitar, vocals), A. Crawshaw (drums) and J. Kleine (bass) who unleash a raw fury of rock n’ roll drifted through the filters of punk, psychedelia and blues on their vinyl debut, Vol. 0: In The Shadow Of The Mountain. Pummelling percussion and wailing riffs accompany a vocal delivery that channels an obliterated Jim Morrison at the height of religious revelry! The magnanimous 17-minute title track B-side closes the album with a long form, slow burning mind melter.

Vol. 0: In The Shadow Of The Mountain was recorded at Witch Ape Studio, engineered and mixed by Tad Doyle (TAD) and mastered by James Plotkin. Vinyl edition comes housed in a silk screened jacket printed by drummer A. Crawshaw at Broken Press in Seattle, WA and is limited to 300 copies.

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Terminal Fuzz Terror, “Senseless Boogie” official video

I got to Europa about 15 minutes after doors and 15 minutes before the first band. Annoyingly early, even for an early show with four acts on the bill, set to be over by about 10 so the Polish dance party, which is a regular feature at Europa, could start vaguely on time and the venue could make some real money. I wasn’t drinking (much) because I was driving in. I should have drank more.

The first band was Hot Graves from Florida, and though they rocked like a blackthrash Kill ’em All era Metallica and the vocalist/guitar player talked some righteous shit, I just couldn’t get into it. I sat in the back, sipped my beer and regretted the ride in and the $15 I paid at the door when I should have just left. Some nights going to shows is like not being able to get a boner.

I do enjoy me some Javelina though. The Philly outfit killed as usual, and though it was only about 7PM when they were done, I felt like I’d been through a full night already. Unearthly Trance was next, playing songs from their new album, guitarist/vocalist Ryan Lipynski trying out a more melodic vocal approach that worked fairly well. They’re a band I’ve always taken for granted because they’re local. I have the feeling if I was from Arkansas I’d think they were the best shit in the world. But they are good what they do and deserve the success they’ve had. I won’t begrudge them that. There were people who left when they were done.

Those people missed Floor. Jerks. The ones who stayed were treated to sing-alongs, guitar bombs from Steve Brooks, smiles, good times, good songs, and occasional stretched out heavy droning that broke up the set nicely. Floor only played for an hour and 15 minutes or so, but they pretty much killed, and I was glad to see recently interviewed bassist Anthony Vialon looking like he was enjoying himself. The room was packed and it was more genuine enjoyment than I’ve seen Brooklyn allow itself to have in a long time. Who the hell cares if these people heard Floor after the fact? They knew the words to the songs — one up on me in that category — so who am I to criticize? At least they didn’t just stand there like assholes.

When the show was over, I split out to a bar down the street to sober up (that’s right) and got funny looks from the locals. Perhaps it was my pre-imposed annoyance — unrelated to the show, but not helped by it either — but I didn’t come out of Europa feeling like I’d communed with gods. I’ve always liked Floor in a more than ambivalent kind of way, and though it looked like everyone was having a great time on stage and off, I felt like I was in a bubble surrounded by it rather than actually a part of it. My loss, I’m more than sure.

You know the old saying: “If a thing’s worth doing, it’s worth doing across eight CDs.”

Long-since defunct Floridian doomers Floor, from whose cranium sprang forth the mighty Torche the kids love so well, have taken the above maxim to heart with their new box set, Below and Beyond. Available through Robotic Empire either as 10LPs (and one 7″) or eight CDs, plus digital downloads, it is as huge a project as a band could take on. As bassist Anthony Vialon informs in his first interview since parting with the band in 2003, it was quite an undertaking.

Vialon was a founding member of Floor, alongside guitarist/vocalist Steve Brooks, and there is palpable emotion in his voice when he talks both about being kicked out of the band and about putting together Below and Beyond and the prospect of playing Floor‘s several upcoming reunion shows in Miami and Gainsville, Florida, and Atlanta, Georgia. He remarked at several points during our discussion that he was nervous and, having removed himself completely from the music industry over the better part of the last decade, out of practice. Nonetheless, he was remarkably open about his experiences both positive and negative with Floor and genuine in his appreciation of the growing interest in his former outfit.

Floor‘s Below and Beyond is due out next month, and the live shows are set to encompass material with multiple drummers, including Henry Wilson (who was instrumental in putting the box set together and in the band from 1997 till their breakup in 2004), Jeff Sousa (1994-1996) and Betty Monteavaro (1992-1993). Vialon explains it all in his Q&A after the jump.

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…Because if you do, this should pretty much make your day. There’s comprehensive, and then there’s 10 LPs, eight CDs and accompanying downloads of a band’s complete work. I consider myself a Floor fan — I dug Dove and am into Torche as well, so the lineage holds up — but this is an unbelievable amount of material. A lot of bands dissolve before they ever get closure, and it certainly seems like with Below and Beyond, Floor are getting theirs. The PR wire has more details and some exclusive reunion dates as well:

Celebrating the release of their Below & Beyond box set, Floor will be getting back together to play three shows in the southeast. In keeping with the chronology and theme of the box set, the shows will reflect the lineups of each era of the band: Betty will be playing drums for songs from the early days, followed by Jeff on drums from the Dove era, and end with Henry stomping his way through the Floor album. And, of course, Steve and Anthony on vocals and guitars.

Floor was formed in 1992 by Steve Brooks (guitar), Anthony Vialon (bass), and Betty Monteavaro (drums). Jeff Sousa became the drummer in late 1993, at which time Steve and Anthony switched to two low-tuned guitars with no bassist. Early influences included Melvins and Godflesh, later developing their own sound of melodic, pop-infused doom. Several vinyl-only 7″ EPs were released before their first break in 1996. The band reformed with a new lineup for one show in 1997 with Henry Wilson on drums and practiced only occasionally until 2001. 2002 saw the release of their first full-length album, self-titled ‘Floor,’ before splitting in 2003 for good.

These shows mark the culmination of years of work put into the comprehensive Floor collection, being released by diverse independent label Robotic Empire. Three separate versions of this Below & Beyond discography will exist by the live dates:

1) Deluxe vinyl edition of 10 LPs, one 7-inch, CDs, 32-page booklet and more,
completion expected in February

2) CD standalone edition of eight CDs and 32-page booklet – available via mailorder in February, in stores and everywhere else March 30th

3) Digital download editions of eight separate albums, or one single massive collection, available in February

Floor Live Dates
March 27th Churchill’s Hideaway Miami, FL
April 2nd Common Grounds Gainesville, FL
April 3rd The Earl Atlanta, GA

The complete Below and Beyond track list is available here.