Posted in Whathaveyou on April 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Well obviously they’re playing it in full at Roadburn. They’re Bell Witch. It’s Roadburn. Put it in your calendar under ‘duh’ and thank your lucky stars you’re there to see it if you’re going to be. Bell Witch, who had the collab with Aerial Ruin (review here) out in 2020 but whose last LP-proper was 2017’s wrenchingly brilliant Mirror Reaper (review here), will release their new album, Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate, on Friday ahead of physical pressings in June through Profound Lore. Presumably doing digital ahead of time is so that people going to see that set at Roadburn can, you know, maybe listen ahead of time if so inclined and have some idea of what they’re getting into.
About that? 85-minute single-song from Bell Witch? That’s likely to be a big ‘yes’ from anyone who was subsumed into the listening experience of Mirror Reaper, myself included. Sad to say I won’t get to see that set at Roadburn, but I’ll look forward to hearing the record and whatever sequels the Seattle duo might have planned for it when they come along. Figure this should set Bell Witch up for albums until, what, maybe 2030? The god damned future, that is.
From the PR wire:
BELL WITCH RETURN WITH NEW ALBUM FUTURE’S SHADOW PART 1: THE CLANDESTINE GATE OUT DIGITALLY THIS FRIDAY, APRIL 21; PHYSICAL JUNE 9 VIA PROFOUND LORE
PERFORMING ALBUM IN FULL FRIDAY, APRIL 21 AT ROADBURN
WATCH / SHARE THE MAKING OF FUTURE’S SHADOW PART 1: THE CLANDESTINE GATE
For more than a decade, the renowned Pacific Northwestern doom metal band Bell Witch has sent tides surging over the seawalls of the song form, unraveling conventional expectations about the ways music stations itself in time to absorb a listener’s attention. Rather than seek catharsis, the duo’s songs heave themselves through time at a glacial pace, staving off resolution in favor of a trancelike capsule eternity. Invoking both boundlessness and claustrophobia in the same charged gesture, Bell Witch cultivates a sense of time outside of time, an oasis inside an increasingly frenetic media culture.
Today they announce new album, Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate. Like 2017’s lauded Mirror Reaper, The Clandestine Gate is a single 83-minute track — a composition that pulses and breathes on a filmic timeframe. It constitutes the first chapter in a planned triptych of longform albums, collectively called Future’s Shadow.
“Eventually, the end of the last album will be looped around to the first to make a circle,” says bassist Dylan Desmond of the triptych. “It can be continuously looped, like a day cycle. This would be dawn. The next one would be noon. The following one would be sundown, with dawn and sundown both having something of night.”
While traces of organ and synthesizer hovered over Mirror Reaper and Bell Witch’s 2020 collaboration with Aerial Ruin, Stygian Bough Volume 1, The Clandestine Gate drew those instruments closer to the center of its compositions. “We started experimenting with letting more of the elements shine on their own,” says drummer Jesse Shreibman. The band reunited with their longtime producer Billy Anderson as they began negotiating these new compositional weights. The record begins with an eight-minute organ passage that builds slowly, like the susurrations of dawn, before Desmond’s distortion-choked bass cleaves it open. Throughout their new material, Shreibman and Desmond also took the opportunity to implement new vocal strategies. “I wanted the vocals to be more active, rather than being on top of the soundscape,” notes Shreibman. On The Clandestine Gate, Bell Witch’s twinned voices build off of the chantlike textures of previous records while steering toward more developed melodic lines, structured harmonies, and rhythmic death metal growls.
The expansive scale of Future’s Shadow gave Bell Witch more leeway to plumb themes that have long percolated throughout their work. The concept of eternal return — that time doesn’t end and death doesn’t punctuate life, but both go on forever in an infinite loop no one can remember — inflected the development of The Clandestine Gate after Desmond encountered the idea in Nietzche’s book The Gay Science. The glacially paced films of 20th century Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky similarly supplied a framework for the movements of The Clandestine Gate and Future’s Shadow as a whole. Simple actions — carrying a candle across a room, tossing a metal nut into an overgrown field — carry life-and-death weight, a strategy echoed in Bell Witch’s suspension of minimal melodies across planetary expanses.
The immense gravity of a work like The Clandestine Gate allows these ideas to simmer in a way that feels profoundly and somatically intuitive — not just a philosophical exercise, but an embodied truth. By slowing down both their creative process and the tempo of the music itself, Bell Witch digs even deeper into their long standing focus: the way life spills on inside its minuscule container, both eternal and fleeting, a chord that echoes without resolution. As both the beginning and end of the Future’s Shadow triptych, The Clandestine Gate opens a new chapter in Bell Witch’s macroscopic minimalism: the start of a yawning orbit around an increasingly massive core.
Today Bell Witch have also announced an exclusive, one-off performance in which they will perform Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate in full this Friday, April 21 on the main stage at renowned Dutch festival Roadburn in Tilburg, The Netherlands. Desmond tells, “We have always had incredible experiences at Roadburn and cannot think of a better place for the live debut of our new record. We can’t wait to return to their stage on Friday for the premiere performance of ‘The Clandestine Gate.’” For more info, go here: https://roadburn.com/band/bellwitch/
Future’s Shadow Part 1: The Clandestine Gate sees its release across all digital retailers on Friday, April 21 and physical (CD, Cassette, Vinyl) on June 9 via Profound Lore.
Bell Witch is Bassist Dylan Desmond and Drummer Jesse Shreibman.
Posted in Reviews on April 10th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to the Spring 2023 Quarterly Review. Between today and next Tuesday, a total of 70 records will be covered with a follow-up week slated for May bringing that to 120. Rest assured, it’ll be plenty. If you’re reading this, I feel safe assuming you know the deal: 10 albums per day from front to back, ranging in style, geography, type of release — album, EP, singles even, etc. — and the level of hype and profile surrounding. The Quarterly Review is always a massive undertaking, but I’ve never done one and regretted it later, and looking at what’s coming up across the next seven days, there are more than few records featured that are already on my ongoing best of 2023 list. So please, keep an eye and ear out, and hopefully you’ll also find something new that speaks to you.
We begin.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
ISAAK, Hey
Last heard from as regards LPs with 2015’s Serominize (review here) and marking 10 years since their 2013 debut under the name, The Longer the Beard the Harder the Sound (review here), Genoa-based heavy rockers ISAAK return with the simply-titled Hey and encapsulate the heads-up fuzz energy that’s always been at the core of their approach. Vocalist Giacomo H. Boeddu has hints of Danzig in “OBG” and the swing-shoving “Sleepwalker” later on, but whether it’s the centerpiece Wipers cover “Over the Edge,” the rolling “Dormhouse” that follows, or the melodic highlight “Rotten” that precedes, the entire band feel cohesive and mature in their purposeful songwriting. They’re labelmates and sonic kin to Texas’ Duel, but less bombastic, with a knife infomercial opening their awaited third record before the title-track and “OBG” begin to build the momentum that carries the band through their varied material, spacious on “Except,” consuming in the apex of “Fake it Till You Make It,” but engaging throughout in groove and structure.
With doom in their collective heart and riffs to spare, UK doom metal traditionalists Iron Void roll out a weighted 44 minutes across the nine songs of their fourth full-length, IV, seeming to rail against pandemic-era restrictions in “Grave Dance” and tech culture in “Slave One” while “Pandora’s Box” rocks out Sabbathian amid the sundry anxieties of our age. Iron Void have been around for 25 years as of 2023 — like a British Orodruin or trad-doom more generally, they’ve been undervalued for most of that time — and their songwriting earns the judgmental crankiness of its perspective, but each half of the LP gets a rousing closer in “Blind Dead” and “Last Rites,” and Iron Void doom out like there’s no tomorrow even on the airier “She” because, as we’ve seen in the varying apocalypses since the band put out 2018’s Excalibur (review here), there might not be. So much the better to dive into the hook of “Living on the Earth” or the grittier “Lords of the Wasteland,” the metal-of-yore sensibility tapping into early NWOBHM without going full-Maiden. Kind of a mixed bag, it might take a few listens to sink in, but IV shows the enduring strengths of Iron Void and is clearly meant more for those repeat visits than some kind of cloying immediacy. An album to be lived with and doomed with.
An offering of thickened, massive lava-flow sludge, plodding doom and atmospheric severity, Dread Witch‘s self-released (not for long, one suspects) first long-player, Tower of the Severed Serpent, announces a significant arrival on the part of the onslaught-prone Danish outfit, who recorded as a trio, play live as a five-piece and likely need at least that many people to convey the density of a song like the opener/longest track (immediate points) “The Tower,” the eight minutes of which are emblematic of the force of execution with which the band delivers the rest of what follows, runtimes situated longest to shortest across the near-caustic chug of “Serpent God,” the Celtic Frost-y declarations and mega-riff ethos of “Leech,” the play between key-led minimalism and all-out stomp on “Wormtongue” and the earlier-feeling noise intensity of “Into the Crypt” before the more purely ambient but still heavy instrumental “Severed” wraps, conveying weight of emotion to complement the tonal tectonics prior. Bordering on the extreme and clearly enjoying the crush that doing so affords them, Dread Witch make more of a crater than an impression and would be outright barbaric were their sound not so methodical in immersing the audience. Pro sound, loaded with potential, heavy as shit; these are the makings of a welcome debut.
Next-generation heavy fuzz purveyed with particular glee, Tidal Wave seem to explore the very reaches they conjure through verses and choruses on their eight-song Ripple Music label debut (second LP overall behind 2019’s Blueberry Muffin), The Lord Knows, and they make the going fun throughout the 41-minute outing, finding the shuffle in the shove of “Robbero Bobbero” while honing classic desert idolatry on “Lizard King” and “End of the Line” at the outset. What a relief it is to know that heavy rock and roll won’t die with the aging-out of so many of its Gen-X and Millennial purveyors, and as Tidal Wave step forward with the low-end semi-metal roll of “Pentagram” and the grander spaces of “By Order of the King” before “Purple Bird” returns to the sands and “Thorsakir” meets that on an open field of battle, it seems the last word has not been said on Tidal Wave in terms of aesthetic. They’ve got time to continue to push deeper into their craft — and maybe that will or won’t result in their settling on one path or another — but the range of moods on The Lord Knows suits them well, and without pretense or overblown ceremony the Sundsvall four-piece bring together elements of classic heavy rock and metal while claiming a persona that can move back and forth between them. Kind of the ideal for a younger band.
Persistently weird in the mold of Arthur Brown with unpredictability as a defining feature, Guided Meditation Doomjazz may mostly be a cathartic salve for founding bassist, vocalist, experimentalist, etc.-ist Blaise the Seeker, but that hardly makes the expression any less valid. Expect arrives as a five-song EP, ready to meander in the take-the-moniker-literally “Collapse in Dignity” and the fuzz-drenched slow-plod finisher “Sit in Surrender” — watery psychedelic guitar weaving overhead like a cloud you can reshape with your mind — that devolves into drone and noise, but not unstructured and not without intention behind even its most out-there moments. The bluesy sway of “The Mind is Divided” follows the howling scene-setting of the titular opener, while “Stream of Crystal Water” narrates its verse over crunchier riffing before the sung chorus-of-sorts, the overarching dug-in sensibility conveying some essence of what seems despite a prolific spate of releases to be an experience intended for a live setting, with all the one-on-one mind-expansion and arthouse performance that inevitably coincides with it. Still, with a rough-feeling production, Expect carries a breadth that makes communing with it that much easier. Go on, dare to get lost for a little while. See where you end up.
II is the vocalized follow-up to Cancervo‘s 2021 debut, 1 (review here), and finds the formerly-instrumental Lombardy, Italy, three-piece delving further into the doomed aspects of the initial offering with a greater clarity on “Arera,” “Herdsman of Grem” and “The Cult of Armentarga,” letting some of the psychedelia of the first record go while maintaining enough of an atmosphere to be hypnotic as the vocals follow the marching rhythm as the latter track moves into its midsection or the rhythmic chains in the subsequent “Devil’s Coffin” (an instrumental) lock step with the snare in a floating, loosely-Eastern-scaled break before the bigger-sounding end. Between “Devil’s Coffin” and the feedback-prone also-instrumental “Zambla” ahead of 8:43 closer “Zambel’s Goat” — on which the vocals return in a first-half of subdued guitar-led doomjamming prior to the burst moment at 4:49 — II goes deeper as it plays through and is made whole by its meditative feel, some semblance of head-trip cult doom running alongside, but if it’s a cult it’s one with its own mythology. Not where one expected them to go after 1, but that’s what makes it exciting, and that they lay claim to arrangement flourish, chanting vocals and slogging tempos as they do bodes well for future exploration.
So heavy it crashed my laptop. Twice. The second full-length from Mumbai post-metallers Dirge is a self-titled four-songer that culls psychedelia from tonal tectonics, not contrasting the two but finding depth in the ways they can interact. Mixed by Sanford Parker, the longer-form pieces comprise a single entirety without seeming to have been written as one long track, the harsh vocals of Tabish Khidir adding urgency to the guitar work of Ashish Dharkar and Varun Patil (the latter also backing vocals) as bassist Harshad Bhagwat and drummer Aryaman Chatterji underscore and punctuate the chugging procession of opener “Condemned” that’s offset if not countermanded by its quieter stretch. If you’re looking for your “Stones From the Sky”-moment as regards riffing, it’s in the 12-minute second cut, “Malignant,” the bleak triumph of which spills over in scream-topped angularity into “Grief” (despite a stop) while the latter feels all the more massive for its comedown moments. In another context, closer “Hollow” might be funeral doom, but it’s gorgeous either way, and it fits with the other three tracks in terms of its interior claustrophobia and thoughtful aggression. They’re largely playing toward genre tenets, but Dirge‘s gravity in doing so is undeniable, and the space they create is likewise dark and inviting, if not for my own tech.
Witch Ripper‘s sophomore LP and Magnetic Eye label-debut, The Flight After the Fall, touches on anthemic prog rock and metal with heavy-toned flourish and plenty of righteous burl in cuts like “Madness and Ritual Solitude” and the early verses of “The Obsidian Forge,” though the can-sing vocals of guitarists Chad Fox and Curtis Parker and bassist Brian Kim — drummer Joe Eck doesn’t get a mic but has plenty to do anyhow — are able to push that centerpiece and the rest of what surrounds over into the epic at a measure’s notice. Or not, which only makes Witch Ripper more dynamic en route to the 16:45 sprawling finish of “Everlasting in Retrograde Parts 1 and 2,” picking up from the lyrics of the leadoff “Enter the Loop” to put emphasis on the considered nature of the release as a whole, which is a showcase of ambition in songwriting as much as performance of said songs, conceptual reach and moments of sheer pummel. It’s been well hyped, and by the time “Icarus Equation” soars into its last chorus without its wings melting, it’s easy to hear why in the fullness of its progressive heft and melodic theatricality. It’s not a minor undertaking at 47 minutes, but it wouldn’t be a minor undertaking if it was half that, given the vastness of Witch Ripper‘s sound. Be ready to travel with it.
In stated narrative conversation with the Arabic influence on Spanish and greater Western European (read: white) culture, specifically in this case as regards the work of Persian philosopher Ibn Sina, Parisian self-releasing three-piece Pelegrin follow-up 2019’s Al-Mahruqa (review here) with the expansive six songs of Ways of Avicenna, with guitarist/vocalist François Roze de Gracia, bassist/backing vocalist Jason Recoing and drummer/percussionist Antoine Ebel working decisively to create a feeling of space not so much in terms of the actual band in the room, but of an ancient night sky on songs like “Madrassa” and the rolling heavy prog solo drama of the later “Mystical Appear,” shades of doom and psychedelia pervasive around the central riff-led constructions, the folkish middles of “Thunderstorm” and “Reach for the Sun” and the acoustic two-minute “Disgrace” a preface to the patient manner in which the trio feel their way into the final build of closer “Forsaken Land.” I’m neither a historical scholar nor a philosopher, and thankfully the album doesn’t require you to be, but Pelegrin could so easily tip over into the kind of cartoonish cultural appropriation that one finds among certain other sects of European psychedelia, and they simply don’t. Whether the music speaks to you or not, appreciate that.
Lush but not overblown, Argentinian instrumentalists Black Sky Giant fluidly and gorgeously bring together psychedelia and post-rock on their third album, Primigenian, distinguishing their six-song/31-minute brevity with an overarching progressive style that brings an evocative feel whether it’s to the guitar solos in “At the Gates” or the subsequent kick propulsion of “Stardust” — which does seem to have singing, though one can barely make out what if anything is actually being said — as from the denser tonality of the opening title-track, they go on to unfurl the spiritual-uplift of “The Great Hall,” fading into a cosmic boogie on the relatively brief “Sonic Thoughts” as they, like so many, would seem to have encountered SLIFT‘s Ummon sometime in the last two years. Doesn’t matter; it’s just a piece of the puzzle here and the shortest track, sitting as it does on the precipice of capper “The Foundational Found Tapes,” which plays out like amalgamated parts of what might’ve been other works, intermittently drummed and universally ambient, as though to point out the inherently incomplete nature of human-written histories. They fade out that last piece after seeming to put said tapes into a player of some sort (vague samples surrounding) and ending with an especially dream-toned movement. I wouldn’t dare speculate what it all means, but I think we might be the ancient progenitors in question. Fair enough. If this is what’s found by whatever species is next dominant on this planet — I hope they do better at it than humans have — we could do far worse for representation.
Posted in Whathaveyou on March 16th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Seattle post-metallers Wyoming Young and Strong will release their new EP, Bend the Night, on March 31 digitally and follow-up with a 7″ vinyl version on April 20. The release contains three songs, and they’re pretty short, with two on side B under three minutes each and the longer title-track on side A, and it’s the first the formerly-all-Josh duo/now-with-a-Jason trio have been heard from since 2021’s impressive debut album, Black Wire (review here), which took elements of noise rock and heavy-progged ’em up with more than an edge of aggression to suit, managing to stay atmospheric all the while. Something of a tightrope to walk for a relatively new band, and despite the brevity, I’d expect Bend the Night to expand outward either along the same lines or, you never know, maybe take a radical turn and do another thing entirely. Maybe they’re part punk. Who’s to say?
Not me, clearly. I got files to check out but there’s some technical glitch to be worked out in terms of the bitrate of the audio, so it sounds pretty rough as I try to dig in. The intensity comes through, however, and the band seem to be continuing with the barrage the album started. [EDIT: Got fixed files, and indeed it’s a basher and much fuller sounding than the low bitrate version; gotta know your mp3s, folks.] No way am I about to complain about it. I’m not sure if bassist Jason actually appears on the recording — the EP art only lists Josh Williams and Josh Engelhardt, but there’s time to clarify as we get closer to the digital and physical releases. Don’t worry about it, is what I’m saying. Mostly to myself.
From the PR wire:
Wyoming Young and Strong – ‘Bend the Night EP’
Release Date: Digital Friday 3/31/23 and physical release of seven inch on 4/20/23
A lone hero in a world that seems pit against him, Wyoming traveled the universe after his home was destroyed by ancient titans. On his adventures, Wyoming has challenged mystical shamans, travelled through time to worlds of ice and gloom and unrest, and grappled with his own mortality in the lonely black of space. Continually tried by ancient magic, Wyoming struggled and survived despite arcane forces that seemed to perpetually test him.
After learning the tales of their ancient extra-dimensional brother, Wyoming Young and Strong took up the challenge of bringing the lost folk songs of this epic hero to our world. They hope his stories will guide others and make sense of the frustrations of youth and burdens of strength in a dwindling America. Josh, Jason, and Josh have arranged these songs in the tradition of Bass, Drums, Guitar, and Vocals. As the ancient seers before them, they deliver these songs to you in a way that aspires to make Wyoming proud.
Recorded by Jeffery McNulty at the Killroom Studio in May 2022. Mixed by Jeffery McNulty. Mastered by Levi Seitz at Black Belt Mastering. Art by Brian Kim.
Tracklist: 1. Bend the Night 2. Artifice 3. Winter War
Wyoming Young and Strong is Josh Williams and Josh Engelhardt.
[Click play above to stream Sandrider’s Enveletration in its entirety. Album is out this Friday, March 3, through Satanik Royalty Records.]
There’s a line in the song “Slumber” on Sandrider‘s Enveletration that repeats twice near the end. It says, “This sort of day doesn’t come around every year/This sort of day doesn’t happen every year.” It is delivered melodically — as much of the Seattle trio’s fourth album is — and it’s hard to resist the temptation to apply it to the album itself. This sort of record doesn’t come around every year.
On a practical level, literally-speaking, that’s true. It’s been the better part of five years since the heavy noisemaker three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Jon Weisnewski, bassist/vocalist Jesse Roberts and drummer Nat Damm offered the dug-in declarative assault that was Armada (review here), and that’s not the longest divide between full-lengths of Sandrider‘s tenure either, since their second album, 2013’s Godhead (review here) — which was recently reissued, along with their 2011 self-titled debut (review here), through their new label home, Satanik Royalty Records — had preceded on a similar time differential.
And just as that lyric — which is one of a multitude of clever turns of phrase to go with the onslaught of likewise clever instrumental twists and adventures in mood, dynamic and pace throughout Enveletration‘s 10 song and 36 minutes — reminds the listener of the gifted treasure that any given day can be when we allow ourselves to see it as such, so too does the front-to-back agility of Sandrider‘s work in these tracks reaffirm the thing-to-be-celebrated, life-affirming vitality in even their heaviest and most crushing moments.
Some things haven’t changed. Like all their output to-date, including the 2015 split with Kinski (review here) that eased the gap their second and third LPs, production on Enveletration was handled by Matt Bayles, whose corralling presence here brings to mind in some places — looking at you, midsection of “Circles,” payoff of “Ixian,” and pretty much all of you too, title-track — the tonal force that was harnessed with him at the helm so effectively and pointedly on Mastodon‘s Remission some 21 years ago. The collaboration between Bayles, Roberts, Weisnewski and Damm feels essential to the finished product of this record and the individual pieces that comprise it, but on a deeper level, in terms of the makeup of the tracks themselves, Enveletration is both the tightest and the broadest-reaching work Sandrider have ever done.
Their flexibility as a group is on display at the outset with the opening longest track (immediate points) “Alia,” a ringing note like Soundgarden at the very start building quickly into a run that crashes delightedly into the brick wall of the gang-shout hook before the first frantic solo and curve back around. The second half of “Alia” gets more melodic vocally and open in its own guitar lead, and its ending is drawn out in a way so as to speak to the put-the-closer-first ethic of Armada that is even more effectively done this time around in terms of toying with the balance and expectation of the listener as the rest of what follows works to many of the same ideas, but pulls them in multiple directions toward varied purposes, some teeth-clenchingly intense like “Tourniquet” or the early bombast of “Slumber,” others more attuned to scope and spaciousness like the first verses of the penultimate “Ixian” or in actual-closer “Grouper,” where they turn at 2:17 from the angular shimmer of the procession to that point to a riff that could’ve been on Weezer‘s blue album and make it the basis of their consuming, playfully grandiose finish.
As maddening and busy as it might get, at no point on Enveletration are Sandrider not in control of their craft. The vocal arrangements throughout speak to this, be it the growls added to underscore the build of “Enveletration” or “Circles,” the almost pop-ish ease with which they ride the careening riff in “Priest” or the higher-pitched Slayer screams from Weisnewski in “Alia” or that lead so gloriously into the standout chorus of “Tourniquet,” and so on, carefully placed in service to the songs and, by extension, the album as a whole. But it’s there too in the way “Weasel” shifts from the quirky fuzz-punk of its verse to its more willfully lumbering hook en route to its duly massive apex, the arrival at “Ixian” at the distortion-altar where the title line seems to have been waiting all along, and in the bassy push that goes gleefully over the top in “Enveletration,” and even the manner in which the brief second verse of “Circles” picks up from the chorus with such a smooth transition into the growl-topped assault that gives over to the bridge before they bring the verse back.
Each cut has a plan at work, and that plan varies more than it ever has before, strips down structures to their essential parts — only “Alia” and “Grouper” touch the four-minute mark in terms of runtime, and there’s not a spare moment to be found there or anywhere else — and allows pieces like “Slumber” and “Proteus,” which follows, to highlight a sense of breadth corresponding to the outright crunch of “Tourniquet” or the physical-feeling forward shove of “Priest.” They’ve always had some facet of grunge to their style, but Enveletration reads even more like a take on heavy noise rock that’s mature without the word “mature” being a substitute or “lame” or “watered down.”
Quite the opposite. A clear focus on craft lets complex material breathe, or not, depending on what’s called for at the time in question, while memorable choruses imprint themselves on the consciousness without coming across as cloying or crutches on which the surrounding parts lean. Sandrider circa 2023 are able to mellow out at the start of “Ixian” with no sacrifice of the overarching momentum that’s been built along the way, and the triumphs that are cast amid the sundry movements of “Enveletration,” “Circles,” “Weasel,” “Tourniquet,” “Proteus,” “Ixian,” “Grouper” et al, are infectious, affecting, and so too is the underlying spirit of fun, the gleeful chicanery, that provides a charge like if you could power your home by throwing a toaster in the bathtub. And Damm puts more personality into the kick drum in the parts before and after the big-riffy build-up in “Grouper” — god damn I want to know the lyrics there — than many entire bands do on entire albums. That doesn’t hurt either.
Because it’s been a few years — recall the lyrics from “Slumber” cited above — and because its component songs hit with such a jolt, it’s tempting to think of Enveletration as a moment of arrival for Sandrider, but this is an oversimplification of what they accomplish in bridging ferocity and purpose. The truth is that among the four, there hasn’t been an album yet that hasn’t felt like or actually been a landmark for them upon its arrival, and whether one regards Sandrider as stewards of West Coast noise more generally, the inheritors of a pedigree of unhinged-sounding, tonally weighted hardcore, or the most uptempo doom band e’er to walk the earth, they are definitively in a place of their own. Enveletration is a wonder to be explored, engaged with, and appreciated; a miracle of the everyday that doesn’t come along every day.
Posted in Questionnaire on February 15th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Jon Weisnewski of Sandrider
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
Took me a few minutes of thinking to realize I have no idea. I’ve literally never tried to define it. The thing I do know with ultimate certainty is that I am unable to NOT write and perform music. It’s a deep part of me and my identity. I learned pretty ruthlessly in the first year of Covid lockdown that my mental health tanks when that part of my life is taken away from me. I couldn’t say how I came to do it, it seemed inevitable. I grew up with hippy parents, my dad is a musician and music teacher, they both helped foster a love and appreciation for art, I had access to musical instruments… Would have been weird if I didn’t end up with some kind of musical affinity. I’m now in my 40s and have been going to band practice and playing shows without interruption since I was 14. It’s just how I do life.
Describe your first musical memory.
The first memory I’d consider a “musical memory” is driving on a long road trip as a little kid with my Dad. He had a tape player in the car and we listened to The Beatles Revolver over and over. It was the first time I’d ever sat still and really paid attention to music and let it soak.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
There are so many I don’t think I can isolate a ‘best’. Close to the top of the list is a show my old band Akimbo played in a wine cellar underneath a wine shop in France. It was a last minute show, only 20 or so people showed up, but the place exploded with energy. It stands out as one of the wildest performances I’ve ever been a part of. Another one (and I admit this is weird for me) is going to see U2 in a stadium on the Joshua Tree tour they did. We had nosebleed seats, couldn’t have been further away from the stage, and I don’t know how they pulled it off but the band sounded perfect. It’s so hard to get an arena show to sound good, and it was like seeing them in a small concert hall. I’m not a U2 fan. I respect U2 and they have some songs that are very powerful, but I’m not a fan. All that aside I was absolutely floored by the show, especially with The Joshua Tree material. I still get chills when I think about seeing ‘New Years Day’ and ‘Bullet the Blue Sky’ that night. It was such a grounding moment, a reminder that you can tell yourself all these REASONS why a band is dumb or why so-and-so’s music is lame, but at the end of the day people performing and creating with heart and THE JUICE is the only thing that matters.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
Did I ever tell you about the time I went to a U2 concert?
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
Abject poverty! And also, hopefully more art! There’s a very satisfying cycle of finding an idea, building it up, executing it, and then moving on to the next project. Progression doesn’t have to mean someone got more skilled or “better”. Progress can just be finishing something and starting something new. Most creatives are happy when they’re doing the creating. Embracing that cycle helps prevent me from being a perfectionist as well. It’s good to be able to stand back from a work of any medium, look at it and call it done. There will be another chance to try new things, see what can improve, and continue to lose money.
How do you define success?
For me it is sustainability. I want my creative endeavors to be sustainable both materially and emotionally. Success would be breaking even (and continuing to break even) on the cost you put into a project, and having that not consume your ability to be a happy, functional human in the process. Did you see that trick I did? Define success at a shamefully low bar and then tell yourself you succeeded!
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
I was a first responder to a traffic accident where a person attempted to cross the freeway on their bicycle and got hit by a car going full speed. I was two cars behind the driver. I saw every detail before, during, and after up until they took the person away in the ambulance. An off duty doctor was also a responder so we got to help him turn the body to keep the spine straight. I’m trying to think of a funny thing to add to counterbalance that bummer of an answer, but hey there it is. We’re all sentient bags of fluid wiggling around until we can’t wiggle anymore. Eat at Arby’s.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I have a solo project called Nuclear Dudes. So far I’ve just done traditional albums, but I’m really looking forward to making one off covers of other songs, try my hand at game or film soundtrack stuff, and do some collaborations with other artists. There’s also a Sandrider project we’ve talked about doing for years that I really hope we can launch at some point. I’m not going to say what it is here because it’s so awesome someone will probably steal it and do it first. In fairness though, we kinda stole it from another band that did a similar thing a while back. Still not telling.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Ah jeez… I grow weary of the debating of art. That’s not a dig at the question at all, just a little venting that it’s even a topic. In the interest of forcing myself to use words for an answer someone will probably eviscerate me for, I will declare that the most essential function of art is to experience art. Get in there. Feel it. Absorb it. Think about it. Pay attention to it. Stop looking at your phone during the movie (it’s ok I do it too). I think that applies to artists as well as enjoyers of art. When you do it for a long time it’s easy to lose some of that spark, or get focused on superficial side distractions that come with pursuing a life in the arts. Stay connected to the magic. Recognize that feeling of excitement or inspiration when it hits and hold it close.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Covid being ‘for reals’ over, instead of people ‘pretending-it’s-not-still-running-rampant’ over.
Posted in Whathaveyou on January 12th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
You know how it is. Sometimes you hope for a thing while kind of feeling like you don’t dare hope for that thing. That’s me and a fourth Sandrider album. Certainly the Seattle three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Jon Weisnewski, bassist/vocalist Jesse Roberts and drummer Nat Damm don’t owe anyone anything after 2011’s self-titled debut (review here), 2013’s Godhead (review here), 2015’s split with Kinski (review here) and 2018’s Armada (review here), but listening to “Alia,” the opening track of their fourth record, Enveletration, I’m only glad they’re still ripping it up. 10 new tracks from Sandrider is only going to make this year better.
March 3 is the digital release, March 17 for the vinyl. I don’t see a CD, but so it goes. Whatever size platter it’s on when it arrives will barely contain the band’s electrified heavy noise anyway, so take what you can get and get ready for the kind of living room mosh that, if anyone saw you, you wouldn’t even be embarrassed because Sandrider are so fucking righteous. Mosh on, homebody.
From the PR wire:
SANDRIDER: Seattle Loud Rock Trio To Release Enveletration Full-Length This March Via Satanik Royalty Records; New Track Streaming + Preorders Available
Seattle-based loud rock trio SANDRIDER will release their long-awaited fourth full-length, Enveletration, this March via Satanik Royalty Records, today unveiling the record’s cover art, track listing, and first single.
“Enveletration” is a word SANDRIDER vocalist/guitarist Jon Weisnewski came up with after pondering a question his friend asked him many years ago at a party: “Why is it always about penetration, and never about envelopment?”
Everything from the power dynamics in sex, how things are built, the way we think about weapons and armor, and advertisements for new technology is described in terms of male-centric power fantasies. But who really holds the power: the one breaking through something, or the one engulfing it? Are you truly overpowering someone or something if the recipient of the action is choosing to absorb you completely?
Enveletration, the forthcoming studio album from Seattle’s wildly fun and hypnotizingly heavy rock unit SANDRIDER (and its title track, for that matter), has absolutely nothing to do with the aforementioned concept. But the word, a portmanteau of “penetration” and “envelopment,” sounds cool as hell, right? And it gives you something to ponder as you spend thirty-six minutes in the ring with one of the heaviest, highest-voltage bands the Pacific Northwest has to offer.
Made-up words aside, SANDRIDER might be the perfect sonic backdrop for analyzing the dynamics of domination. With a primal combination of monstrously exultant riffs, soaring guitar solos, and catchy, triumphant choruses created by Weisnewski (Akimbo, Nuclear Dudes), bassist Jesse Roberts (The Ruby Doe, Kid Congo Powers, Old Iron), and drummer Nat Damm (Akimbo, Head Like A Kite, Automaton, Tight Bros From Way Back When), the band sounds like the soundtrack to victory. But as evidenced by many of the lyrics on Enveletration, SANDRIDER’s brand of victory is a defiant one – wherein fun is an act of cathartic resistance and escape. Under the album’s layers of metaphor and amplifier feedback, you will find themes of political anger and modern malaise: “Tourniquet” unpacks the bleak and overwhelming feeling of helplessness in the face of the unending and seemingly inevitable threat of mass shootings. “Weasel” laments the political success given to those who talk the loudest, despite lies and empty promises. “Circles” condemns the circular logic used by systemic power structures that divide rather than unite people, and asks: Is it possible for humans to evolve into a species that cares about each other and the world?
But despite the world’s madness and constant bad news, there are many ways to relish our own small escapes and victories in life. The band has consistently found inspiration in the dystopian sci-fi world of Dune, to which they pay homage in the song “Alia” and even the band name itself. And, as Weisnewski sings on Enveletration’s closing track “Grouper,” sometimes the most satisfying wins can be found during what SANDRIDER and their pals call “Warlock Hour:” that time of the night when everyone else in the house has gone to bed and you can finally sit down, put tomorrow off a little longer, pour a glass of whiskey, and just be you for a bit. Not all victories are loud; some are quiet and serene.
The sentiment of defiant victory is made even more real when you consider that the band was experiencing it themselves firsthand: Enveletration captures the utter relief the three members felt when returning to the practice space for the first time after a year of early-pandemic isolation and anxiety. The experience of waking their stacks of amplifiers from their dormancy, feeling the drums rattle their chests and the bass vibrate through the floor, and reveling in the indescribably euphoric return to writing music together in person is palpable. The end result is a nod to Seattle heavy-rock forefathers Soundgarden with their “break my rusty cage and run” attitude, mixed with the unrelenting, stage dive-off-the-bar energy of Refused and noisy noodling of Hot Snakes.
Across its ten tracks, Enveletration proves that SANDRIDER’s adrenaline-charged fun and unconquerable spirit is yet again a sonic refuge where you’re temporarily invincible. Whether you listen at home, or you’re lucky enough to experience a rare live show while standing in the beams of their blinding yellow stage lights, it’s hard not to walk away feeling ready to take on any foe – real, imaginary, or within ourselves.
In advance of the release of Enveletration, today SANDRIDER drops the record’s first single, opening track “Alia.” Offers the band, “The song is lyrically inspired by the character from Frank Herbert’s Dune novel [Alia Atreides] that arguably has one of the most interesting arcs of all his characters. Her mom drank worm bile meant for spice orgies when she was pregnant with her, and it ended up making Alia fully aware of herself and her entire heritage of witch mothers while she was still in the womb. So, she starts life as an almost omniscient tortured genius with thousands of personalities in her mind but she’s just a damn baby and, avoiding spoilers, she of course goes on to do insane things in an insane world from that point. Musically we just wanted to write a loud ripper, so that’s what we did.”
Enveletration was recorded at Litho Studios in Seattle by Matt Bayles (Soundgarden, Mastodon, Botch) and will be released on Satanik Royalty Records — who recently reissued SANDRIDER’s first two full-length albums, Sandrider and Godhead — digitally on March 3rd with a limited edition vinyl edition to follow on March 17th.
It seems strange to feel nostalgic about this, but then you remember that 2012 was now more than a decade ago and that strangeness goes away some. Snail released what was their second post-reunion album and third overall full-length, Terminus (review here), in May of that year, and while they’ve done two more albums since, it’s important to note that at the time, it wasn’t a sure thing they’d do another one at all. After an initial run amid the earlier after-grunge blowouts that became stoner metal that led them to their 1993 debut, Snail (review here), and the next year’s All Channels Are Open EP (discussed here), it would be 15 years before they returned with 2009’s Meteorcity-issued Blood (review here, discussed here), which was mostly based on demos from their original era.
That detail is crucial, especially since it meant that Terminus would be the first batch of newer material they’d worked on since the early 1990s. I remember being surprised at how metal some of the riffing was across the 10 tracks/46 minutes of the release, and in the guitar squealies in the verse of hooky opener “Recursion,” that impression remains all this time later, the inhale/exhale of their verses and choruses flowing as they build and let go of tension. The work of then-lead guitarist Eric Clausen should also be noted here. His slow-Slayer creeper solo in “Recursion,” a bit of ZZ Top swagger in the subsequent “Galaxies’ Lament” and the bluesier take alongside the piano transitions in “Matchbook” set a varied approach that continues to expand in the wah of “Burn the Flesh,” the classic-heavy style of “Terminus,” etc., as his play and that of guitarist/vocalist Mark Johnson coalesce and bring arrangement nuance to set alongside Johnson‘s sneakily intricate vocals — listen to the layering in “Matchbook” or how the watery effect in “Circles” adds to that song’s ’60s-psych atmosphere, which is not to mention the Alice in Chains-style self-harmonies of “Ritual” or the subtle Queens of the Stone Age-ism of the verses in the closing title-track, complete with whispers and all — and give the original trio of Johnson, bassist/backing vocalist/producer Matt Lynch and drummer Marty Dodson a way to expressively jam and grow the context of their songs on the whole. This would be Clausen‘s last record with Snail, as he left in 2013 and started a new band called Division Process, but his contributions here aren’t to be discounted just because he may have been on his way out at the time.
And it should be noted that the ‘metal’ vibe that comes through in some of the songs — certainly in the aggro surge of “Hippy Crack,” which moves from its Tool-ish buildup into a speedier sorta-noise rocker that feels like it was of a kin with their ’90s work, barks and growls and all — is filtered through Snail‘s own signature rolling groove. Listening through “Circles,” the willfully grandiose crashes of “Love Theme” or the definitive march in “Ritual,” the argument for Dodson (and the band as a whole) as underrated makes itself, and for much more than just the cowbell coinciding with the Sabbathian turn late in “Burn the Flesh.” His play universally enhances the material — that is, there is no song underserved by what he brings to it — even in absent stretches like the verses of “Try to Make It” that make the chorus land that much heavier, and in company Lynch‘s warm, weighted bass tone, the rhythm section captures a largesse in a cut like “Burn the Flesh” that not only gives Clausen room to rip out lead lines even as the march is barely underway, but sounds big enough to warrant the Pink Floyd lyrical references and the meditative-realization narrative of the chorus, slow but not staid, deeply arranged in the vocals, gorgeous in its consuming totality.
“Love Theme” seems to reference the title-track of Blood if only for its single-word repetition of “love” before “peace and happiness” fill out its only lyrics — what more do you really need? — and its setting up the more actively-psych second half of the record is essential coming out of “Burn the Flesh” and “Hippy Crack” before it and leading into the druggy “Ritual” — its second/third chug-marching verse starting with the line “Pills untils we are fills” — after, the progression there allowing Johnson a moment in a standalone layer that prefaces the vocals-only ending on the line “So gone away” ahead of the drifting start of “Circles.” That song taps a spirit like Monster Magnet at their psychedelic best, and is all the more flowing with keys playing more of a role as the organ in “Try to Make It” seems to push deeper into the direction laid out by the vague Easternism in the winding lead guitar lines prior, but the play with silence and the languid, jammier finish of “Circles” — all sustained by Lynch‘s steady bassline — is a highlight nonetheless as the band carries the listener forward toward the sun, maybe realizing a bit of what “Burn the Flesh” was talking about lyrically in its willingness to feel like it’s losing cohesion without actually doing so (again, it’s that bass holding it together).
Terminus makes both its variety and its core heavy modus apparent early, as “Galaxies’ Lament” picks up with a more melodic verse than “Recursion,” before shifting into its own more energetic chorus, but Snail never seem to give it all away at once in terms of songwriting, and each of the 10 tracks throughout offers something of its own that adds to the impression of the whole. The metal-shred in “Try to Make It” — the lyrics of which open themselves to multiple interpretations, some of which seem like a direct contrast to the open groove of the verses and maybe that’s the point as the chorus explodes to enter — is perhaps prefaced in “Galaxies’ Lament,” but in the later piece, it adds purpose to the chaos as a swell of feedback rises to consume the song by its finish, which thuds out and leaves residual echo as a transition to “Terminus,” which it should be said, starts as though nothing just happened and Snail didn’t just pull apart a solar system.
The line “She fears change” in “Terminus” marks the ascent to louder volume, hard-hitting, bell-tolling chugging riffery, lyrics reaffirming the mortality of all things, and that indeed is where Snail bring Terminus to its end, by riding out that part on a well-earned slow fade. Whispers come and go, voices in and out, and the last vocal line is a child’s voice saying, “Okay it’s time to wake up now,” before the album gives way to silence. Fair enough.
I will not discount the work Snail did either on 2015’s Feral (review here) or 2021’s Fractal Altar (review here) as they returned to their original trio lineup and continued to expand their sound, but Terminus set in motion a lot of what they’d become on those two records while having a personality of its own that stands out from the rest of their discography. As their third long-player (and one that would seem to be desperate for a reissue, perhaps on vinyl), its manifestation of who Snail was as a band at the time felt duly landmark, triumphant, and while I dug Blood a lot — and I mean a lot — this was the record that cemented me as a fan of the band, and I’m glad to say I’ve remained one ever since.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thank you for reading.
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I had kind of a beautiful time yesterday listening to that record. I’d gone swimming in the morning at the gym — me and the other old men doing laps for the early AM — for the first time since just after I hurt my knee in October and was pleased to find my leg didn’t fall off, and I sat on the couch in my usual spot, lightly stoned while The Pecan was at school, and just listened and took some notes and enjoyed it. After doing the Quarterly Review all week — not painful, but hardly relaxing in terms of how one experiences a release — it was refreshing. I’d finished the QR post that went up today, set up the back end for stuff on Monday, and could actually relax for a few minutes. I needed that.
It had been a week. Wednesday was my mother’s birthday and my family came over for dinner. The weather has been unseasonably warm, which is both pleasant and apocalyptic, so we managed to get out at least for a few short walks — went to the Turtle Back Zoo on Monday — and The Pecan went back to school on Tuesday, which I think all three of us were ready for. That, however, caused him to feel emotions, which he generally expresses by wrecking shit. See also when he’s excited about a thing, tired, arguing about food, etc. It’s pretty much been one thing into the next all week and I don’t mind telling you that’s fucking exhausting. No, kid, I can’t play Bluey games with you for seven hours. Believe me when I say I’m sorry. Maybe if I was 31 instead of 41 and we’d been able to make a baby happen when we first explored the idea, I’d be as much fun as Bandit. I suspect not.
But we’ll never know. I’m trying to remember to enjoy this time while I have it, to be grateful for what I have. I do not always succeed at this. Looking back at that writeup for All Channels Are Open 10 years ago, linked above, was a trip. I was losing jobs all over the place. I am fortunate now to not be in the labor market, or surely I’d be back in retail by now, being treated like subhuman garbage and taking way too seriously shit that matters not in the slightest. Work like that gets in your head; it’s hard to step out of it mentally, to keep your perspective. I have a hard time doing this generally, and in parenting, at which I more often than not feel like an utter failure. Every day, for example.
Next week, five more days of Quarterly Review. Today at 5PM Eastern, new Gimme show: http://gimmemetal.com
Thanks if you listen and thanks for reading.
I hope you have a great and safe weekend. Have fun, hydrate, watch your head, all that stuff. It’s a new year, so… I don’t know. Just keep going. You can do that.
Posted in Questionnaire on December 14th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Ari Rosenschein of Stahv
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
STAHV is always in flux, just like me. The music has gone from dreamy, hazy doomgaze to ultra-concise darkwave art rock on the new EP, Simple Mercies, and I know it will change again. I think that’s because I’m so obsessed with sounds and songs and recording that I want to sample all the flavors. There’s always a new sonic avenue to explore. That keeps me striving.
Describe your first musical memory.
I recall singing “Sunday Bloody Sunday” by U2 into a tape recorder in our apartment in Jerusalem, accompanying myself on a nylon string acoustic. I even did Bono’s live rap from the Under a Blood Red Sky live EP. “This is not a rebel song…” This must have been sixth grade, and I was already in search of a stage. My dad has a cassette recording somewhere.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
There have been many. I hold dear the moment when I opened for Mike Peters of the Alarm at the El Rey Theater and got to sing and strum “One Guitar” by Willie Nile during Mike’s encore surrounded by Cy Curnin the lead singer of the Fixx, The Cult’s Billy Duffy, Slim Jim Phantom of the Stray Cats, and Jay Aston from Gene Loves Jezebel.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
As a younger person, I believed that life had a clean narrative arc. Perhaps this came from movies and literature. With the passing of a number of friends in the last two years, I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that not every relationship, friendship, or family dispute will resolve perfectly on this plane of existence. There are things we have to work out within ourselves after someone close to, or far from us, dies.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
For me, it’s a game of constantly imagining, creating, and reevaluating the work I’m doing in the context of what is happening in the world, what I have done in the past, and what I still want to achieve. With any luck, I will be able to look back on a journey with many twists and turns that creates its own storyline—one I couldn’t have predicted. I’ve journeyed from retro rock through many iterations of indie pop, power pop, and Americana to the create the heaviest music I’ve ever done emotionally in my ‘40s. I’ve become increasingly less compromising as I age.
How do you define success?
Success can feel like many things. Hearing a song I co-wrote come on unexpectedly at a Starbucks, listening to a finished master, having a new listener order a vinyl record or buy something at a show all give me a thrill. It’s also neat to trace a BMI royalty statement and see the unusual places my music ends up over time—all the countries, TV shows, streaming services, and airline in-flight programs. Those small moments can give me a reminder that there is value to the years and years of my life I’ve spent playing clubs and working to get heard.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
There are movies and news stories that get in my head after I’ve read them. Some people can absorb details about deranged people and the evil in the world and turn it into compelling art, but I cannot. I won’t even give the real-life protagonist airtime, but recently a streaming service made a series rehashing, yet again, a terrible tragedy. The minutes I spent combing articles and following that hideous story is time I wish I could retrieve.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I have a batch of synth pop music in my head I’m very excited to explore. I see it as a natural evolution of some of the sounds on Simple Mercies, but even more electronic. That sphere that holds a lot of meaning for me from growing up in the ‘80s, but usually I end up slathering guitar on everything out of comfort and love for the sound. It would be a powerful exercise to leave it in its case for a batch of songs.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
I believe art’s most powerful function is to act as a reset button that allows us to view the world differently in its wake. I rate the feelings I get after a transportive concert, cinematic, or theatrical experience as the most life-affirming.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
I’ve been working on several new essays and flash fiction pieces I want to refine in 2023. I published a short story collection, Coasting, a few years back. Since then, I have been writing consistently and drafted a pair of books. But this new shorter-form stuff feels like I’ve turned a corner. A lot of it scares me in a good way. That’s when I know there’s energy around something.
