Compilation Review: Various Artists, Deep Seven Vol. 1
Posted in Reviews on December 6th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
The title Deep Seven Vol. 1 is a stated reference/homage to Deep Six, which came out in 1986 and is regarded as a starting point for grunge for its early assembling the likes of Soundgarden, Green River, Skin Yard and The Melvins, among others. At the time, these were mostly noisy bands trying to feel their way from being punk to something harder, and what came out of it was a generational declaration of themselves in rock and roll and to-date, the only underground rock scene ever to have been picked up by a major label en masse.
A once-in-a-forever happening, and no, I don’t think producers Haldor Grunberg of Satanic Audio and Kamil Ziółkowski of Electric Witch Mountain Recordings, which is the label behind the release and the studio where he seems to have recorded the bulk if not all of it, and features in five of the seven bands included (plus one as a guest), are trying to position Wrocław, Poland, as “the next Seattle.” But, there are parallels to be drawn. The two compilations share an underlying ethic in representing the work of groups and a collective of like-minded artists, working toward their own purposes as individuals, bands, etc., but united in some cases by stylistic similarities (or shared personnel) and in some cases drawn together simply by virtue of making outside-mainstream art in the same city — again, in this case, Wrocław and Poland’s greater Silesian region around it.
These are admirable goals, and with exclusive, new tracks from Palm Desert, Ziółkowski‘s solo-project Mountain of Misery, Solar Trip, Spaceslug, Gozd, O.D.R.A. and Sealess, the 45-minute collection has much to say about the city these bands call home and the sonic elements they share. Perhaps unsurprisingly, among the latter is a strong thread of grunge. This is certainly emphasized in Mountain of Misery‘s “Hollow Water” (5:436 and Spaceslug‘s “Lost in the Tide” (7:36), the latter of which is the centerpiece of the collection and the leadoff of the vinyl edition’s side B, but certainly in the punkier-at-its-root noise rock chug and shout-topped bite of O.D.R.A.‘s “Breslau Babilon” (5:15) — Breslau being an older name for Wrocław — and the despondent atmosphere that begins the subsequent closer “Fading Away” (4:30) by Sealess, there are hints of grunge to be actively or passively heard.
More importantly, that’s not all there is. Spaceslug, who aren’t the longest-tenured here — Palm Desert, whose “Elegy of the Past” (9:22) is both the leadoff and longest track (immediate points), formed in 2008, and O.D.R.A. may go back farther (both bands have Ziółkowski on drums) — are arguably the most known outside of Poland. Their textured, rich interpretation of heavy psychedelia is characteristically fluid in melody and groove on “Lost in the Tide,” which may or may not have some relation to their 2018 LP, Eye the Tide (review here), and comes across as languid but not at all still. The riff is sharper than it seems on first listen, metal-born but heavy-raised. It feels purposeful in its position, not the least for the hypnosis.
“Lost in the Tide” is surrounded on either side by Solar Trip‘s “Blueshift” (6:18) and Gozd‘s “Disguise the Emptiness” (6:22). These are the only two bands in which Ziółkowski isn’t a member, though he contributes recognizable guest backing vocals to the latter, for another aural tie-in, feeling like a linear progression from the psychedelic redirect of Solar Trip — instrumental save for samples and nodding toward modern space-prog in a nonetheless driving movement — through the hypnotic nod of “Lost in the Tide,” and into Gozd, who push even further into open air.
No doubt the fact that these songs were all recorded in the same studio with the same producers between August of this year and last month has something to do with Deep Seven Vol. 1‘s ability to creative this kind of overarching flow; the tracklisting is able to put the listener where it wants them from the moment Palm Desert takeoff from the relatively straight-ahead first half of “Elegy of the Past” to the jammier, trippier second. Mountain of Misery serve as a transition ahead of Solar Trip, Spaceslug and Gozd, and just when you feel like you’re as far out as you can go without the music falling apart around you, O.D.R.A. bring a sudden regrounding and a suckerpunch at the same time. And Sealess not only make sense to finish because they move from the mellow, almost post-heavy fluidity of the early going in “Fading Away” to a more solidified payoff, but the return of vocalist Wojciech Gałuszka from Palm Desert alongside guitar, drums and synth from Ziółkowski and Grunberg‘s production, feels like a bookend to the release as a whole.
And that Ziółkowski and Spaceslug bassist/vocalist Jan Rutka also play in Palm Desert shouldn’t be discounted. Granted, it’s a lot of Ziółkowski front to back as he moves between drumming, singing, keys and guitar in different bands, but his approach seems to be an essential piece of what these same groups are sharing. It’s part of the point, not a thing to hide, is what I’m saying. These bands are supposed to be connected, and they are. That happens in terms of their aesthetic purpose — the blend of psychedelic, heavy, and various niches of rock music — their respective memberships, and of course their geography.
Deep Seven affirms the validity of all of these, and within the broadly varied Polish underground, which is just as likely to produce a Behemoth or a Batushka (or two) as a Dopelord or a Major Kong, casts the included acts as offering something distinct from the rest. They’re not prideful or arrogant about it — at least not in the songs, though O.D.R.A. want nothing for brashness with their Church of Misery-style swing and hardcore-meets-Sabbath overtones — but the message that these groups and this region have something to offer listeners is resonant in the material itself. For that alone, one hopes a Vol. 2 or a Deep Eight or whatever it ends up being called surfaces at some point in the future.
Of course, a crucial difference between this comp and Deep Six is that scene was just beginning to take shape where this one is more established — but again, at no point does it feel like Deep Seven is trying to pitch itself to a commercial music infrastructure that simply no longer exists to support it even if it wanted to. Instead, in a context where these sounds can be heard by anyone, anywhere, anytime, on demand, Deep Seven Vol. 1 reaches out and speaks of people and place in stylistic terms, and in so doing captures something special. If you want to call it the ‘Silesian sound’ from here on out, this offers a glimpse at some of what that means.
