Shout it from the hilltops: Tranquonauts are a real band. Are they a supergroup? I somehow doubt they’d use that word, which implies egotism and a kind of coked-up indulgence, but there’s no arguing with the lineup or the pedigree of the band’s members, from Melbourne, Australia’s Seedy Jeezus — guitarist/vocalist/sampler Lex Waterreus, bassist Paul Crick and drummer Mark Sibson; gentlemen all — at the core of the project, to Isaiah Mitchell of Cali epic-psych (mostly-)instrumentalists Earthless and Port Orchard, Washington’s Tony Reed, of Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere, Constance Tomb, and others.
The latter party came aboard for 2 (review here), which was released in 2024, and now aligned to Kozmik Artifactz for release in Europe with Blown Music once again handling Australia and Echodelick Records holding down North American distribution, Tranquonauts reveal what they’ve apparently been building toward in the decade since their self-titled debut (review here) with the four-song collection, III. And the message of band-dom could hardly be clearer or more efficiently delivered on a record that’s still so spaced in terms of atmosphere, or that derives such clear pleasure in blending craft and expanse.
A sample at the beginning of opener “All Rise” (8:31) sets up a thread that runs through most of the release, and if you’d immediately go to the end of closer “S() Sigurnova” (9:38) to see if there’s one there to bookend, yes, there is. Assembled and I think in some cases — the line about “Tranquonauts are powering down” comes to mind — spoken by Waterreus, the samples are given a classic sci-fi feel, a grainy sound and discussion of rockets and post-WWII pulp-film vibes. They bring a sense of aesthetic to the proceedings and provide a backdrop uniting the material, but neither are they overused. After about a minute, “All Rise” launches into its central riff, and that it even has one feels declarative of their purpose.
I wouldn’t call it crunchy or crushing, but it’s more tense in its structure and insistent in a way that the fluidity of the band’s prior jams on prior records weren’t trying to be. Reed takes the lead vocal in the verse that ensues, but the structure begins to loosen as they push into the solo, and around 3:05, they land in a Mellotron-topped slowdown that becomes the point from which the jam takes off. Solos are shredded, I think Waterreus takes vocals for something of a verse, but the tempo has mellowed and the effect is more hypnotic and the listener is drawn in. There’s little chance of coming back from where they go, and they don’t, but a sample ties the end of “All Rise” to the beginning, and sets up the cover of UFO‘s “Space Child” (8:39) just the same.
Mitchell takes over on vocals, with acoustic and electric guitars backing and a subdued flow that meshes well with the jam the band just left behind, as well as the one on which they’re about to embark. Crick‘s bassline and Sibson‘s drums are probably never going to get the marquee position in the band with the three guitarist/vocalists on board, but they are nonetheless the glue keeping the songs together and righteous on their own. “Space Child” puts its jam in the middle, sounding part-improv, which one wouldn’t necessarily expect on a cover, but even before the halfway mark, the exploratory feel is paramount. The difference is that where “All Rise” didn’t come back around, “Space Child” does, gradually returning to ‘ground’ (relatively speaking) with intertwining shred and a stop before the last verse rounds out.
That’s the end of side A, and though “Space Child” didn’t actually have any samples in it, the one at the end of “All Rise” and another at the start of “Broken Star” (7:34) gives a sense of continuity just the same. The song comes in with rhythm and lead guitar before Waterreus‘ classic-soul verse unfolds, carrying to right about at 3:45, where finger-snap marks the beginning of the next outbound cosmic foray; a quiet build that wants nothing for payoff but is going to take its time getting there, which is ultimately to the strength of the song as a whole. It might be a plotted progression, but the solo(s) over top feel vibrant and spontaneous just the same, and as it fades out, “Broken Star” transitions directly, mid-sampled-rumble, to the aforementioned finale/longest track, “”S() Sigurnova.”
A reference in the title to Sigur Ros coincides with the stated inspiration for the song, and the early, pre-verse float the band conjure is indeed a departure from, say, a UFO cover. Mellotron, still plenty of guitar around and softer vocals from Waterreus let “S() Sigurnova” flow, covering new ground without feeling out of place, with samples laced through between vocal lines before they gradually embark on their journey, Sibson crashing in at 3:43 accompanied by a twisting lead line on guitar (there’s also a solo happening) as the bed for the last dive into the liquefied far-out. As with “All Rise,” they make it clear that once they go, they’ll remain gone, and that’s how it happens, but they’re dynamic in that, bringing “S() Sigurnova” to a multi-guitar crescendo at around 8:45 before it starts to come apart and that last sample steps in to give a sense of completion to the LP.
It’s not that either of the two previous Tranquonauts albums were lacking cohesion, but if you listened to the first and then the second, a sense of refinement was working its way into their sound, and that continues on III. I still don’t know to what it will lead, if they’ll ever be the kind of band who write ‘straightforward’ material, but the balance they strike between off-the-cuff sonic adventuring and structure is evolving, has evolved to be what it is here. Tranquonauts will likely always be a side-project for those involved, owing to geographic spread almost as much as everyone else’s other commitments, but more than they had yet, III demonstrates a creative progression that is their own, separate and distinct from the members’ other groups. In other words, they sound like a real band more than they have to this point, and from here, they feel like they could go anywhere.
Tranquonauts, “All Rise” live at Freak Valley Festival 2026
I slept every minute that was available for sleep, woke up early for breakfast and photo-sorting, and slept again after that too. When I went to shower, nothing came out of the hot water, and when I went downstairs to report same, I got a cup of coffee that I promptly spilled in its entirety tripping back up the stairs. Because that’s who I am, damnit. If I’m not giving myself a reason to apologize, am I really living? Who would I even be without humiliation?
Freak Yoga before the day started was the right call. Restorative, fun, lighthearted, nonjudgmental and set to heavy music. Basically ideal. If I could bring myself to do it every day, I’m pretty sure I’d live forever. I’m all tight and sore and a bit of stretching and My Sleeping Karma is almost always going to help. The weather again was pretty grim at the start but was forecast to get nicer later on, if cool. I was just happy to not be falling asleep while anyone was playing.
Here’s my day:
Seedy Jeezus
There was a dump of rain a couple minutes before Seedy Jeezus went on, as if to refresh the mud in the photo pit. Ha. It was over by the time the set actually started, and so it was an unmitigated pleasure to see the Australian heavy blues rockers again. Steeped in ’70s, with melancholy in their newer stuff and boogie in the old and kind of both all along, they’re a trio who absolutely bleed the love for what they do on stage, and the smiles and warmth were infectious. Lex Waterreus on guitar and vocals, Paul Crick on bass and Mark Sibson on drums; no pretense, no bullshit, just get up and hit it. Not that I don’t dig elaborate when it’s called for, but Seedy Jeezus’ songs are so human, it would be silly if they played any other way. There was another deluge right about in the middle of their set, rain and wind, and even Waterreus noted being cold as he shook out his arms to loosen up. They mixed it up around stuff from last year’s Damned to the Depths (review here), and the folks in the side tent where I stood were on board for sure, and reasonably so. It wasn’t ideal with the cold and the wet, but it was as close as we were going to get to it, and they kicked ass regardless.
Howling Giant
They brought the sunshine, and their energy was no less life-giving. Was it weird that one of the sets I was most looking forward to this weekend was a band I saw all of three weeks ago? Maybe. I caught the first show of Howling Giant’s Euro tour at Desertfest Oslo (review here), and as this was the last one, the chance to bookend with them — because for some reason no matter how many times I invite myself they never bring me along (I’m kidding) — was something special and so was the set. All smiles, all relief, sun and cool air and harmonies even in the guitar solo of “Sunken City” later on, and you could feel the good time they were having. I stood by the side of the stage up front and was there the whole time after pictures. I didn’t go off to write or get more water or give in to that gotta-move impulse I always seem to feel at these things. I stood, enjoyed it, rocked out a bit, pulled my earplugs out for “Glass Future,” and so on. Somebody in the crowd blew bubbles. Dancing, headbanging, both accommodated by the band’s sound. Barring disaster, this won’t be the last I see of them this year, and I can’t help but look forward to the next one already. A dose of that will keep you going. Safe travels home and thanks to Howling Giant. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. Bonus points to Adrian Zambrano for the ‘fukice’ on his guitar. I’m not sure if that was there in Oslo, but yes.
Super Jet Kinoko
Operating in the finest tradition of dancey weirdo J-psych cosmic throb, Super Jet Kinoko were a left turn from the unabashed hooks of Howling Giant, but the vitality was still there and people were ready for it. I mean, as ready as you could be for the dancing bird, dual vocals, synth and hand-percussion extravaganza they put on. Planet Earth, not ready. Freak Valley though. Pulses from a drum machine added to the physicality, and the costumes even aside from the bird head, were no less on point than the techno aspect. One dude had his hippie sticks out and was going to town in the sunshine as the bassline shifted (dimensions), holding to motion on an ideological level even as they seemed to space out. The most raw-psych band of the fest so far, but clearly over-the-top was what they were going for, so it all made its own kind of sense in its absurdist nonsense. But busy as it was, there was plainly a plan at work, and for being a lot, you never felt like they lost control or didn’t know where they were going next, and that was apparent to me as someone who’d never seen or heard them before. They fit right in — Mr. Mushroomweinerpants jumping into the crowd, etc. — which cannot have been something they were used to doing. But people ate it up, which was really the only way to go.
—
Are you hydrating? What and when did you last eat? Are you taking time to talk to people like a human might? Have you been to the merch yet? How badly do you wish you had your brimmed hat (because you have the beanie The Patient Mrs.’ Mom knit for your giant head) and sunglasses? How about you just find a spot and chill the fuck out? Remember to breathe, you antsy bastard.
—
The Neptune Power Federation
Coming from Sydney, Australia, The Neptune Power Federation were a logical follow-up to Super Jet Kinoko, while bringing a different kind of theatricality to their presentation, at least as far as vocalist Screaming Loz Sutch goes. The songs were straightforward and rooted in classic hard rock, and Sutch was a definite presence on the stage, even beyond the headdress, while the band behind kept things moving with sneaky efficiency. A healthy push kept the crowd going, and I decided I should dig into Mondo Tomorrow, which they released in April and almost immediately followed with a redux of their first record. No, I don’t know the difference between the the original or the new one, but let that be emblematic of an oddball aspect that most definitely came through in the set as well. They covered Ratt’s “Bang Your Head (Metal Health)” — which they also do to close Mondo Tomorrow — and that was fun too, the audience clapping along as the Imperial Priestess Herself soared over one of the catchiest choruses the genre of metal ever produced. Indeed, heads banged. I felt like I needed more coffee to keep up, but no question they were all-in.
The Grand East
Considering their debut EP isn’t out yet, I’m guessing I’m not the only person in the crowd for whom this was a first exposure to The Grand East’s synthy sleaze, but folks have been ready to dance all day and in between their frontman mugging for the Rockpalast cameras, which to be fair were right in his face waiting for it, and the swap between electronic and organic drums, plus keyboards besides, there was plenty enough to help abate even the most persistent cases of the wiggles. Maybe wasn’t my thing, but I’ll check out that EP to confirm that, and I’m no fun anyhow. The assembled masses of Freak Valley, on the other hand, let rip like it was Friday night, which of course it was but you take my point. For being an apparently new band in a killer slot, The Grand East endeared themselves and won people over — helps that everybody loves shorty-shorts, I think, but there were howls — and were by no means dumb musically, careening and boogieing and ’70s here and ’80s there and ’00s garage a bit, taking seemingly disparate ideas and smashing them together like a hadron collider of shove. I went and ate some dinner, which I mention for accountability, and made it back for the finish as they tied it all together and drove the point home. That point? Look out.
Long Distance Calling
Clearly it was time to dig in, and progressive instrumentalists Long Distance Calling were to be the means to that end. The German five-piece celebrate their 20th anniversary this year and have a new album out called The Phantom Void to mark the occasion. Sans-vox prog feels like a setup for a band to be indulgent as hell, but what pulled me in the most was the sense of structure in the material, the fact that they had songs, and in that, I was even a little reminded of Karma to Burn (not a sonic comparison necessarily; more ethical), who of course were also (mostly) steadfast in their instrumental approach. Maybe some of My Sleeping Karma wistfulness in theree too. I guess comparing bands who write songs without singers in mind is pretty weak as regards insight — sorry — but Long Distance Calling were able to immerse their audience without diving headfirst into an effects wash or extended jams. And nothing against a band who does that — I like a lot of heavy instrumental jams — but the tighter rein and steady, methodical builds suited Long Distance Calling, and it wasn’t their fault that after the emergent gorgeousness of the afternoon, the rain started again while they were playing. Not too much, and not nearly enough to stop the people up front from clapping along at all, and fair enough for the reachout in the songs and the impact set alongside some of the float in the guitars. I ended up enjoying it more than I expected to, which sounds like a backhanded compliment but is intended with only the frontest of hands.
—
I was pretty well cooked at this point in the evening. Long day, fair amount of sun, jetlag, old and out of shape; you name it. There was a longer break on the main stage before Messa, which allowed for Darmstadt’s Trails to play a set on the second stage — Greek punkrippers Frenzee did likewise between Messa and Goat — but on the one side of the sky was a gorgeous sunset and it was still raining, so naturally I started looking for the rainbow. It was behind me, of course. Double rainbow at Freak Valley 2026, y’all. Trails were plugging away with riffs and push in ample supply for all, and they pulled a lot of heads over to the corner of the property, but I made my way to a little spot and took the rest where/when I could get it because there was still more night to come, or let’s say the night at all since it was daylight until like 10PM.
We now return to your regularly scheduled review, which you never actually left…
—
Messa
The Italian genremelders started out at a slow burn, and to be honest, that wasn’t what I needed at that point in the day, but dang they were immersive and their sway in those quiet moments is essential to who they are. I get it, is what I’m saying, I was just tired as crap, so when the blastbeats or the next bluesroller riff kicked in, it was refreshing. That expansive stylistic mindset has always felt intentional on the part of Messa. They quickly became masters of their approach, and have reaped acclaim accordingly — hyped far and wode, with a touring impulse to match — and by now they’re professionals as well as creative songwriters, so the hype is thoroughly justified. Melodic, dark, dynamic and continually growing, they were a shift from Long Distance Calling and Trails alike, and I guess from the day in general; there was so much dancing when the sun was out in the afternoon. There was still dancing, plus some making out — I don’t know when P.D.A. in my head went from “public display of affection” to “pathological demand avoidance” (look it up), but it did — and that probably wasn’t unreasonable either. Messa are a band heavy metal is lucky to have.
Goat
I was dead on my feet, which I mention not purely to complain — much as I do love that — but to emphasize the allure of Swedish freak-psych troupe Goat for making me stick around as long as I did. The band were in full regalia, costumes, fleshed out percussion arrangements, boogie from capital ‘e’ Elsewhere. Not my first time seeing them play, but I couldn’t tell you how many years it had been. What hit me about it was that for all the oddities, all the intricacies, all the twists and shuffles and changes and melt-your-chemicals that Goat have going on, so much of their sound relies on Rickenbacker bass as its launchpad. Worldly in the musical sense, they were the last party of the night for those still looking to get down, and you’ll get no argument from me if that was you, but my brain and body were destroyed even before Messa went on, so Goat played me out, and if I’m honest even at that point they put a little bounce in my step. When I got back to the hotel, I put on the Rockpalast stream and was glad to have the chance to do so. Talk about your sole-occupant wavelengths.
—
The cab on my way out said he didn’t take a card. I don’t know why that’s a thing? Cash only? Does that make it easier to rip me off? I don’t even give a shit. Overcharge me. I’m going like a mile down the road. I will pay you 20 euro to get me there, I couldn’t care less. Just let me go to bed, goddamnit.
My fucking hero Alex Fuchs, who runs the transport here, saw me walking up from the AWO grounds to the road, pulled over, and gave me a lift. That is the tip of the iceberg why the first three words of that sentence were “my fucking hero,” but with no signal to get an Uber and no other prospects than standing there and waiting for someone who might take a card from my cashless ass (tomorrow I will get cash somewhere), holy crap was I grateful. Thank you, Alex. Like, forever.
There are more pics after the jump and day three starts with doom yoga shortly. See you there.
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 24th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
To drill down the unlikelihood of a third Tranquonauts record, first you still need to get over that of the first one a decade ago (review here), and the second one that followed in 2024 (review here), and if we’re honest I’m still kind of surprised. The collaboration between Isaiah Mitchell of Earthless, Australian heavy blues rockers Seedy Jeezus, and Tony Reed of Mos Generator (now also Pentagram) have never sounded more distinctly like a band than they do on the four songs of III, or 3 — I’m not sure which is preferred — with opener “All Rise” giving heavy prog presence across a stately, plotted course. Clearly they’ve moved beyond the jams.
The UFO cover “Space Child” resolves with a bit of funk-boogie as though it didn’t spend much of its time in a partly-acoustic ’70s contemplation, while “Broken Star” has a slower, gruffer unfolding but more shred at the finish, and though the apparent Sigur Ros homage “S() Sigurnova” is duly atmospheric, it also has movement at its center. There’s more persona in the 34 minutes of III than anything Tranquonauts have yet produced, and it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that this record will coincide with their first live appearances, happening in Europe with the first test run at Freak Valley 2026.
The PR wire brought copious narrative for background:
TRANQUONAUTS ANNOUNCE NEW ALBUM III
A boundary-dissolving new chapter from the Australian–American psychedelic supergroup
Following growing international acclaim for their exploratory second album II, Tranquonauts return with their most ambitious statement yet: III, a sweeping new work that continues the deep musical dialogue between members of Australian psychedelic rock torchbearers Seedy Jeezus, Isaiah Mitchell (of Earthless), and guitarist/producer Tony Reed (Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere, Stone Axe).
Set for release in 2026, III expands the Tranquonauts universe even further – part cosmic transmission, part heavy improvisational ritual, part fearless compositional experiment. A JOURNEY CONTINUES
Since its inception, Tranquonauts has existed as a creative outpost for ideas too expansive, too strange, or too genre-fluid for the members’ main bands. It is a place where progressive rock, motorik groove, deep psychedelia, cosmic jazz, ambient drift and volcanic heaviness can coexist.
Their previous album, II, earned cult status among adventurous listeners for a structure as audacious as it was immersive: two side-long pieces, with side one often described as pure progressive rock in its most transportive form, while side two unfolded as a kraut-orgy of massive proportions – a hypnotic, ecstatic surge of repetition, propulsion and sonic overload.
Critically and artistically, II established Tranquonauts as far more than a side project. It revealed a group exploring music they may never have had the opportunity to write or release in their other bands – yet music that unmistakably captures the essence of what they all deeply love.
ENTER III
On III, that spirit continues – bolder, stranger and more expansive.
The new album contains four expansive 9 -10 minute compositions, each revealing a different facet of the group’s boundary-pushing vision:
‘All Rise’ A crushing descent into heavy riffage, balancing volcanic weight with exploratory improvisation
‘Broken Star’ A surprising turn toward traditional rock/pop songcraft, where melody and classic songwriting instincts meet psychedelic colour
‘S() Sigurnova’ An Icelandic post-rock inspired piece, unfolding in slow-burning crescendos, glacial textures and widescreen emotional atmosphere
‘Space Child’ A radical reinterpretation of Space Child, the 1970s classic by UFO – transformed through the Tranquonauts prism into a cosmic voyage all its own
While rooted in the exploratory energy of II, the new record pushes further into dynamic contrast, deeper collective interplay, and a broader emotional and sonic range. The result is perhaps the most stylistically adventurous Tranquonauts release yet, moving effortlessly from crushing heaviness to melodic classicism, from meditative post-rock drift to outer-space reinterpretation.
Where II opened portals, III steps through them.
A MEETING OF DISTINCT VOICES
The chemistry at the core of Tranquonauts remains singular.
Seedy Jeezus bring the restless experimentalism and psychedelic intensity that has defined their celebrated body of work.
Isaiah Mitchell, revered for his transcendent lead work in Earthless, contributes his unmistakable melodic fire and improvisational reach.
Tony Reed, one of underground heavy psych’s most respected architects, brings production depth, compositional sophistication and sonic daring that help shape the project’s wide-screen vision.
Together, they create something none would make alone.
NOT A SIDE PROJECT – A COSMIC COLLABORATION
What began as an exploratory collaboration has evolved into a fully realized creative force.
Tranquonauts is not about escaping their primary bands, but expanding beyond them.
It is a shared laboratory where krautrock hypnosis, progressive complexity, heavy psych improvisation and cosmic curiosity are allowed full expression.
And with III, that mission reaches a new peak.
RELEASE FORMATS
III will be released in: Deluxe vinyl editions Limited coloured pressings CD and digital formats
Special collector bundles to be announced
Further details- including track listing, artwork and live appearances—will be revealed soon.
FIRST LIVE APPEARANCE
The announcement arrives as anticipation builds for Tranquonauts’ first-ever live performance at Freak Valley Festival, June 5–7 in Germany – the band’s debut live performance and a landmark moment for a project previously known only through its recordings.
Appearing alongside some of the most revered names in psychedelic and heavy underground music, the performance will mark the first time audiences can experience the Tranquonauts’ expansive sonic vision on stage, with material from III expected to feature prominently.
For followers of deep psychedelic exploration, progressive adventure and fearless musical risk, this is not simply a new record.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 4th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
FreakValley 2026 has been sold out for months at this point, but if you think that would prevent the Netphen, Germany-based execution of the heavy-hippie ideal from adding more badassery to its bill, well, you probably haven’t stopped to think about the reason it’s already been sold out for months. Did that make sense? I don’t know, but the point is Freak Valley looks friggin’ awesome, again, still, whatever. From Uncle Acid and Goat at the top of the bill on down, taking in the now-complete lineup gives some sense of the sonic scope of the thing, surely broadened by bringing in the likes of Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, Messa, Goat and Tranquonauts, and yeah. If you’re one of the few who managed to get tickets before they were gone, you don’t need me to tell you.
I’ve been lucky enough to attend Freak Valley four times now, and the atmosphere, the people, the music, the presentation, the location, the setup of merch and distractions, the sprinklers and little corners in the shade to cool off — it’s got everything you could want and more you woudn’t even think of like when they light the trees up at night and for just a moment it’s kind of like what the whole world could be if only it were entirely different than it is. A sanctuary of sound for weirdos, and an incredible time, to say the least.
From social media:
FREAK VALLEY FESTIVAL 2026 – 🔥FINAL ADDITIONS 🔥
The last bands to complete this year’s Freak Valley line-up – and what a way to finish things off.
@pigsx7 Hailing from the UK, they deliver massive riffs, raw energy and pure intensity. One of the most uncompromising heavy bands of the last decade – loud, hypnotic and impossible to ignore.
@seedyjeezus Coming all the way from Australia, Seedy Jeezus bring raw, expansive psychedelic rock with a love for long jams. Trippy, loud and perfect for getting lost in the moment.
@margaritawitchcult Straight out of the UK with dark, fuzz-drenched heavy rock and a fierce attitude. Fast, filthy and straight to the point – exactly how we like it.
@sunnataofficial From Poland, Sunnata combine doom, psych and post-metal into a heavy, ritualistic and deeply atmospheric sound that pulls you in and doesn’t let go.
The Grant East Originating from the Netherlands, they blend vintage rock vibes with soul, groove and swagger – classic at heart, modern in punch.
@sergeantthunderhoof This UK-based heavy prog powerhouse brings huge grooves, epic melodies and raw emotion – powerful and tailor-made for an open-air stage.
@frenzee.band Born in Australia and raised in Greece, Frenzee deliver pure high-energy punk rock. Fast, loud and explosive – no brakes, no compromises.
@fightsoslo Coming from Norway, Fights deliver intense, emotional hardcore punk with melody and heart. Short, sharp and straight in your face.
ROCKBLOG. BLUESSPOT PRESENTS @trailoffical Rooted in Darmstadt, Germany, Trail bring heavy psych and desert-soaked grooves – laid-back yet powerful, perfect for drifting away down the Valley.
That’s it. We’re sold out. See you in the Valley. 💚🌵
Posted in Whathaveyou on January 26th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Hell Yeah will be a new collection of originals and covers — Seedy Jeezus jamming out their own material and others’ live or mostly-live in the studio?; that’s what it sounds like to me but I don’t actually know; if it is that, it’s a treat, even before you get to the 3D art and apparently-included glasses — that Australia’s Seedy Jeezus will have on the road with them this June. It might be the Tranquonauts set — that’s Seedy Jeezus plus Isaiah Mitchell of Earthless — at Freak Valley as the presiding occasion for the tour, but you can trust the Melbourne trio to make the most of the journey, and no, I don’t just mean the vinyl. I got to see them last time they were at Freak Valley (review here) in 2023, and it was one of those oh-shit-I’m-lucky-to-be-alive-type moments. In the parlance of internet reviews, ‘would recommend.’
The particulars of where and when are below, and their socials will reportedly have ticket links and more on Hell Yeah to come. I hope it ends up streaming. Maybe I should chase them down to see if I can do a premiere? I don’t know how much promo they want to do for something that’s limited, but it might be worth dropping a line to ask.
From social media:
SEEDY JEEZUS 2026 EUROPEAN TOUR
Due to the time we can get away from Oz and all that, it’s a brief visit, sadly some of the regular venues we couldn’t play due to booking conflicts, but maybe next tour. We will be in Oldenburg at Cadillac, its been a long time coming this one, since we played MTS years ago, and dont forget, Tranquonauts will be performing at FREAK VALLEY FESTIVAL. We cant wait to get back there to see everyone and hang. ❤
Seedy Jeezus 2026 June European Tour Tranquonauts Sat. 6th Freak Valley Festival, Netphen, Germany Sun 7th Het Spektakel Asten Mon 8th La Bulle Café Lille Tue 9th Toekomstmuziek Amsterdam Wed 10th Backyard Club Recklinghausen Thu 11th Sonic Ballroom Köln Fri 12th Cadillac Bar Oldenburg Sat 13th Lükaz Lünen w/ Wucan
We will have a limited edition tour album ‘ HELL YEAH!’- on the road with us in Europe… Its in the vein of Guitar Overdrive, where theres a mix of covers and originals – this ones pretty heavy.- more on that later. It will also be limited edition.
The image on the poster is also the album cover for ‘HELL YEAH!’ – and yes it will come with 3D glasses.
Expect a post next week with links to tickets and venues etc….
P.S. NEW ZEALAND – we will have distribution for our current and future vinyl releases… STAY TUNED!!
Posted in Features on December 24th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
[PLEASE NOTE: These are not the results of the year-end poll, which ends in January. If you haven’t contributed your picks yet, please do so here.]
—
Terrible year, good music. Not the first time that’s happened. Look anywhere in the world and there’s unrest to be found. I have started this paragraph three separate times now with some discussion of my country’s willful embrace of corporate, christian nationalist fascism, and each time have had to go back and restart, because by the time you’re done asking “what’s the point of anything?” you realize you don’t have an answer to that question. Better not to ask.
But in what has unquestionably been the dumbest 12 months I’ve lived through as regards the outside world has made a salve of human creativity, and as our techbro-warlord fiefdoms are laid out and generative AI is pushed in place of human artistry — the two could coexist, easily, just not in a world this stupid — making art whether it’s overtly political or not feels more like resistance against a cultural numbing out than it ever has in my 44 years.
We celebrate the human spirit, then, when we celebrate human creativity. The nonphysical part of ourselves and the connections we make across land, space and time through various forms of art and expression. I believe artificial intelligence can have a place in this world, I just wish I could convince it to empty the dishwasher.
Music holds us together. Or to be more honest, it holds me together. On these days where the horrors don’t seem to end, where cruelty and unkindness are held as virtues and care is seen as a weakness, where hateful rhetoric is held as common sense, where grown-ass men roll around in big-boy pickup trucks and wave silly flags like the spoiled five-year-olds they are mentally, where we kill each other for sport, being able to immerse, to put my head somewhere else, to get away from it for just a little while, has been a gift. It is difficult to believe there was ever an optimistic vision of the future in my country. In the face of rising isolationism and kleptocratic, anticonstitutional governmental improprieties, limitless corruption, endless drudging stupidity, I see no reason for one now beyond escapism.
So in these wretched times, love all you can love. Everyone and everything. Bathe yourself in it as much as you can. Hold onto what you can hold onto, because so much else is being ripped away. We live in fear and confusion and exhaustion, but clarity exists. I find it in art and in critical thinking. My hope for you is you find it however you are able.
Below is my list of the year’s best albums. It’s my list, and it has been put together using the same criteria I always use — personal taste and what I listened to most combined with what I think were important or otherwise notable outings — and as always, there were plenty of them. No, I didn’t hear everything, and I think if I ended this post now with “this was the year of Castle Rat,” that would also be a valid way to go, so whatever your opinions are of the year or the music that filled your life from one end of it to the other, please know that this is coming from my perspective, and that while I do my best to do as much as possible, I have neither time nor interest in covering all releases all the time.
Every year, I put this post up after working on it for a week or whatever and someone invariably goes, “meh what about WHOEVER list sux” and the entire endeavor feels like a waste. Never fails. It’s become part of the ritual. I ask you please keep comments civil and allow for the possibility of other perspectives and opinions. If we can’t do that as people sharing the same divergent subculture, then you and I are no better than the monsters outside the door. And we are better, I assure you.
Thanks for reading. Here we go.
—
The Top 60 Albums of 2025
**NOTE**: If you’re looking for something specific, try a text search.
—
60-31
60. Make Money From Home, Make Money From Home
59. Madmess, The Third Coming
58. Spawn, Light Rite
57. Lorquin’s Admiral, Lorquin’s Admiral
56. Pink Fuzz, Resolution
55. Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
54. Serial Hawk, Psychic Pain
53. C.ROSS, Future Site of C.ROSS
52. Ikitan, Shaping the Chaos
51. Papir, IX
50. Kryptograf, Kryptonomicon
49. Bronco, Bronco
48. The Gray Goo, Cabin Fever Dreams
47. Crop, S.S.R.I.
46. Caboose, Left for Dust
45. Nuclear Dudes, Skeletal Blasphemy
44. Cavern Deep, Part III – The Bodiless
43. Rainbows Are Free, Silver and Gold
42. Moon Destroys, She Walks by Moonlight
41. Abanamat, Abominat
40. Margarita Witch Cult, Strung Out in Hell
39. Kungens Män, Resande i Rockmusik
38. Naxatras, V
37. Atom Juice, Atom Juice
36. Castle Rat, The Bestiary
35. Florist, Adrift
34. Earthbong, Bring Your Lungs
33. River Cult, High Anxiety
32. Messa, The Spin
31. Borracho, Ouroboros
Notes:
You might notice two of the year’s biggest releases here between 31 and 40 in Messa and Castle Rat. I’m not sure underground heavy anything has two more crucial bands happening right now. Castle Rat’s main impact and obvious priority is their live presentation, and Messa I’ve always been kind of here or there on. But looking at the year-end poll results thus far, those are names people would be missing, so I wanted to point them out specifically. There was no getting away from either in 2025.
So much to go through here. A few excellent debuts in Atom Juice, Make Money From Home, Caboose, Bronco, Bloodsports, Lorquin’s Admiral, Ikitan, Moon Destroys and so on, while strong returns from the likes of Nuclear Dudes, Papir, Serial Hawk, Rainbows Are Free, the always-welcome Borracho, Naxatras and others provided fodder for immersion across a swath of sounds and intentions of craft. Florist blindsided me, which I appreciated, and River Cult remain wholly undervalued in my mind. Kryptograf and Cavern Deep continue to grow, and Abanamat’s second record was encouragingly proggy. I found solace in Papir and Spawn, and raw physical catharsis in the thrashing heavy cybergrind of Nuclear Dudes. And of course, groove abounds.
I say the same thing every year, but if someone turned these names into the year-end poll as a top 30, I wouldn’t argue. Whether hyped or not, rocking out, navelgazing or exploring the unknown, there is so much here waiting for people to take it on. I hope you’ll see something in the above you haven’t heard yet, listen, and love it.
—
30. Black Moon Cult, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig)
More on this one below, but Black Moon Cult‘s awaited first album, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) was unquestionably a standout in the realm of heavy psychedelic rock, and set the Toledo, Ohio-based trio off on a course of exploration that could be shimmering and progressive or rife with terrestrial groove. And the vocals, not always, but sometimes, reminded me of Death if they were a stoner band crossed with Fu Manchu. Most of all, the vibe-heavy six-songer declared Black Moon Cult as one to watch going forward, and the heavy underground took note accordingly.
Inarguable riffing met with grunge overtones, an overarching heavygaze melodicism and increasingly tight songwriting, yes, Sub Rosa is a step along the way in the narrative of Daevar‘s forward growth, but it sure felt like a landmark in that process. A bit of Type O Negative in “Siren Song” and a bit more explosiveness there and throughout underscored the murky doom for which the German outfit are known, and the key influences are still there, Windhand, Monolord, and so on, but Daevar have been shaping their sound over the course of their albums to arrive at such a payoff.
Kaiser had acquitted themselves well on their 2022 Ripple-issued split with Sweden’s Captain Caravan (review here), so their second full-length arrived not quite as a surprise, but with some measure of anticipation behind it. That would turn out to be wholly justified by the eight-song offering from the Finnish heavy rockers, who aligned themselves with a classic Northern-European-style shove in pieces like “Meteorhead” with high concentrations of fuzz and blowouts to coincide. With pieces like “Oversized Load” and the upped heft of “A Clockwork Green,” this was a sleeper, but it’s the kind of record that creates loyalists and people will be recommending it to each other for years.
Of course, Crystal Spiders have an established powerhouse voice out front in Brenna Leath, but Metanoia brought into focus just how much this is Leath‘s band as the lone remaining founder in a three-piece, with newcomers guitarist Reid Rogers and drummer Aaron Willis. Fair enough. Even in a two-thirds new incarnation, Crystal Spiders came through pretty slick on their third full-length, with a confident, classic-doom swing, songs that remain unafraid to reach onto more ethereal ground, and a flow of melody that’s made them immediately identifiable among the hordes. Asking more would be asking too much.
The ongoing evolution of Northern Ireland’s Slomatics found the crush-prone trio expanding on their worldmaking atmospheres in unexpected ways, challenging what had become conventions in their sound over time while offering the guitar-only heft that’s become their calling card over the last two decades. While more cosmic in their float, they remained grounded in terms of songwriting, and were able to push themselves in ways they’ve never done before. It was enough to remind you why you like heavy music in the first place, and signature Slomatics while moving beyond their prior work, building as they always have on the past to carve out their own futuristic style and perspective. It was, in other words, a Slomatics record.
—
25. Dead Shrine, Cydonia Mensa
Released by Astral Projection and Kozmik Artifactz. Reviewed April 24.
As a fan of his various incarnations, I’m not sure it’d feel like a year if there wasn’t something new from Hamilton, New Zealand’s Craig Williamson. Whether it’s the more rocking solo-project Dead Shrine or the long-running acid folk outfit Lamp of the Universe or some other collaboration, etc., his craft is both distinctive and malleable, and the rumble in songs like “The Sacred Light” and the chuggy, hooky “Redeemer” is his all the way, even as it and the psychedelia that surrounds embarked on new ground for outward-facing tonal weight in Williamson‘s work, tying seemingly disparate sides together in ways that felt fresh, and most importantly, Williamson‘s own. I’ve been listening to Williamson for over 20 years and I have no idea where he’s headed. That’s part of the appeal. And fresh as it was, the take throughout Cydonia Mensa still carried a classic feel.
Apart from the obvious consideration of plague, I’m not sure what was behind the seven-year space between 2018’s Helltown (review here) and their first outing for Heavy Psych Sounds and fourth album overall, EC4, but if they were taking their time, the songs bear that out. “Static Vision” hit perfectly as a catchy single, while the more ethereal “Moss” and the sweeping “Other Planets” took the Ohio band to new places in sound. They’ve always been about craft and performance, and those remain key aspects of what they do, but nuance in the production and an eye kept fixated on the outside-genre leant depth to the material, and Electric Citizen basked in it. The band remain somewhat undervalued in my mind; EC4 is another example of why.
There’s very little mystery to Kal-El. There doesn’t need to be. They have the songs and can come right at you with them. No need to sneak around or pull some tricks. Hit play. “Here’s a riff. It’s a hook. It’s in your head. Here’s the next one.” Repeat for further righteousness. And don’t go walking around thinking I mean straightforward as a code word for boring. That’s not what’s happening here. The point is that with no shortage of big sound, big reach, big riffs and melodies, Astral Voyager Vol. 1 put into emphasis just how satisfyingly direct Kal-El can be. And though it’s a story only half told with a Vol. 2 presumably due in 2026, grooves like “Dilithium” (of course I’m in for a Star Trek reference) and the nine-and-a-half-minute “Astral Voyager,” Kal-El‘s latest held purpose in its every turn and expanse, and, well, they’re the kind of band you can rely on not to start sucking now, so yes, the next one is a thing to look forward to.
—
22. Khan, That Fair and Warlike Form/Return to Dust
Two sidelong epics from Melbourne, Australia, trio Khan, “That Fair and Warlike Form” (23:11) and “Return to Dust” (22:53), were about as vivid as progressive heavy psychedelia got in 2025. Each piece worked in stages and had its own ebbs and flows such that it’ll probably be a while yet before it’s all fully digested, but no question it was a step forward for Khan, whose 2023 LP, Creatures, had sent them to tour in Europe multiple times over. The same wheels are already turning for this album, and despite the longform material, Khan have continued to grow their audience. I don’t know where they go from here — single song album? step back to shorter forms? something in between? — but That Fair and Warlike Form/Return to Dust conveyed its intent in every moment of crush and every fluid twist or expansive dive, and without giving up their tonal impact, Khan found new paths into aural breadth.
For those who caught onto Maha Sohona‘s 2021 sophomore outing, Endless Searcher (review here), A Dark Place was something to anticipate as representing the next phase from a new voice in heavy psych rock. A Dark Place was as-advertised in being moodier than its predecessor, but all the more cohesive for that. With a meditative crux that came through regardless of a given part’s volume, the Swedish three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Johan Bernhardtson, bassist Thomas Hedlund and drummer Erik Andersson were able to both subvert and surpass expectations, revealing a richness to their process that went beyond the marriage of jams and heavier nod. Their best work may still be ahead of them, but pieces like “Ostera” and “Visions” confirmed their progression in craft and atmosphere.
—
20. Grayceon, Then the Darkness
Released by We Can Records and Translation Loss. Reviewed July 24.
From environmental devastation, violence against women, the sundry hypocrisies inherent in raising a family in our world and mysterious lights in the sky perhaps from beyond, one would not accuse Grayceon‘s sixth album, released on the occasion of the band’s 20th anniversary, of taking it easy. A vast and sometimes challenging listen wasn’t anything new from the San Francisco cello-inclusive heavy thrash doomers, but in the 20-minute “Mahsa” and the wistfully punishing “Song of the Snake,” blastbeaten but unbowed unless you’re counting the literal bow, cellist/vocalist Jackie Perez Gratz, guitarist Max Doyle and drummer Zack Farwell were unflinching in their extremity, and further refined the sound that is so, so much their own. Comfort and catharsis, searing and healing, Then the Darkness is distinctly Grayceon and that is all the more reason to treasure it.
Marking their ascent to Fuzz Club Records with the release of their seventh album, Kiel, Germany, psych explorers Kombynat Robotron didn’t quite completely upend their prior methodology by embracing structured songwriting and the use of vocals for the first time, but it was close enough. The songs — there were eight of them, where Dec. 2024’s West Mata (review here) had three, for example — still held to a sense of approaching the outer reaches of heavy psych, the far end of some remote corner of our cornerless galaxy, but it was the use the band put their impulses to that marked the shift. Do I know that the next one will be the same? Nope. And neither am I willing to hazard a prediction, but if you can’t see that as a strength on the part of Kombynat Robotron, maybe it’s best to keep moving along.
—
18. Kadavar, I Just Want to Be a Sound / Kids Abandoning Destiny Among Vanity and Ruin
The funny thing is that, as different as they are in their outward presentation and production style, you could look at either of the two LPs Kadavar released this year and call it “uncompromising.” In the bright, daring-toward-pop melodies and all-in sonic wash of the earlier I Just Want to Be a Sound, the four-piece were unrepentant in speaking to both a heyday and a future in which rock music speaks to a broader audience than dudes who look like me, and with Kids Abandoning Destiny Among Vanity and Ruin — K.A.D.A.V.A.R., if you’re feeling clever — they put forth some of the heaviest, rawest and most metallic sounds they’ve conjured in the last decades-plus of their evolving style. The two records were not black and white, there were overlapping aspects of songwriting and performance, but while each had its own scope, it was in the light of the other that they were most luminous, as much complement as contrast. Maybe I’m cheating including them together. You might say I took inspiration from the band in breaking my own rules.
How many acts do you know who have nine records, let alone nine records the latest of which still finds them pursuing new ideas and fostering growth in their sound? No, 16 aren’t the only ones, but the San Diego outfit found new life when guitarist Bobby Ferry stepped into the frontman/vocalist role, and with Alex Shuster both producing and in the band on guitar, the ferocity of their crunch and hardcore-born chugging largesse has become even more fervent. Guides for the Misguided was the latest in a streak of bangers that at this point goes back more than 15 years, and amid the familiar onslaught, saw the band employing clean vocals for the first time. I suppose it’s arguable whether that made a song like “Fortress of Hate” any more accessible, but it showed how 16 have never settled or stopped pushing themselves, and seemed to boast all the more shove for the fact that it was everybody moving forward, you and the band.
There’s that stretch in “Total Bicep” where the guitars are howling into the void and all the crush surrounding is so full on that it’s kind of overwhelming, but that’s the idea. Give it volume and let it consume you. I suppose that’s not new from Conan, but the UK bludgeoners of all have a well-earned reputation for standing among the heaviest bands on the planet, and Violence Dimension wasn’t about to do anything to derail that impression. Harsh noise metal, doomed lumber offset by speedier but still craterous riffs; familiar territory for Conan, but emblematic of how well they know who they are and what they’re about. The 10-minute finale “Ocean of Boiling Skin” stands testament to just how far into the frozen ground the band are capable of driving you, but in the gallop of “Frozen Edges of the Wound” they reminded that just because you’re devastating doesn’t mean you can’t also be catchy. If you don’t get it the first time, it’s okay. They’re totally willing to properly beat it into your head.
While not as overtly political as his other releases this year — neither was he turning from that; I’m speaking relatively — singer-songwriter Christopher Thomas Elliott brought a storyteller’s presence to Mean Bone, his second full-length under the Buzzard moniker following on from 2024’s well-received debut, Doom Folk (review here), and had heft to match. The murder-balladry of “Murder in the White Barn,” that brighter swing in “Twisted Love,” the heavy folk-blues “Dunwich Farm” and the chronicle of hubris that was “Flies, Mosquitos, Rats and Sparrows” carried the persona of the first record forward, but with newfound weight and distortion around the Elliott‘s clear-voiced critique. More on Buzzard below, but if you don’t get there, just know that Elliott was hands-down my most-listened-to artist this year. It wasn’t close.
Much of the narrative around Pelican‘s seventh album, Flickering Resonance, had to do with guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec rejoining the group alongside guitarist Trevor Shelley de Brauw, bassist Bryan Herwig and drummer Larry Herwig, and fair enough. The long-running Chicago instrumentalists seemed to organically harken back to earlier days throughout nodders like “Evergreen,” “Cascading Crescent” and the drifty-till-it-ain’t capper “Wandering Mind,” and having that lineup in place is a convenient explanation for how that might happen. But if it’s a post-metallic, post-hardcore, heavy-emo dynamic that’s familiar from Pelican, neither were they pretending the last 16 years hadn’t happened, and that could be felt in both the tightness of some of the songs and the according parts where they seemed conscious of the need to exhale a bit. Six years on from their last full-length, it was a ‘welcome back’ for everybody, really.
There’s no denying Causa Sui and frankly I’m not sure why you’d try. The Danish outfit made their debut 20 years ago, and they’ve never looked back in terms of their progression, over time embracing not only an instrumental approach (early) but (later) a progressive, self-aware meld of influences from jazz and psychedelic rock. In Flux — a studio long-player complemented by the 2025 live outing Loppen 2024 (review here) — seemed to pull from all around it. Not randomly, not haphazard, but as though Causa Sui stood astride reality and picked the nuances they wanted to highlight, some modern, some classic, all filtered through the chemistry of their performance, sometimes brazenly full in sound, and at times brazenly jammy (looking at you, “Boogie Lord’s Revenge”), but never lacking purpose in the choices made.
In some ways, it feels like Witchcraft have been searching for an identity since Nuclear Blast pushed them into more modern production styles with 2012’s Legend (review here), but in terms of who Witchcraft are circa 2025, the answer is they’re everything founding guitarist/vocalist Magnus Pelander wants them to be. With his emotive vocals at the fore, and sometimes in Swedish, which works too, the seventh Witchcraft LP culled its form from everything the band has been in the past in classic doom, folkish acoustic minimalism and thoughtfully composed heavy rock. Idag laid claim to these in ‘all of the above’-style and answered the question of the band’s forward path in the affirmative. Turns out Witchcraft are Witchcraft (who knew?), and that definition is more multifaceted than it used to be.
I didn’t know at the start of the year that Little Rock, Arkansas, post-sludgers Rwake would be making a 14-years-later return, let alone one that felt so much like a swirling expanse of gnashing teeth as did The Return of Magik. I talk a fair amount about albums setting an atmosphere, creating a world and so on. If you’ve ever wondered what the hell I mean, this record serves as an easy go-to example. You put it on and it is affecting. Unsettling at times, maybe overwhelming, but that’s always been part of Rwake‘s thing too. But viciousness does not preclude beauty, and in their violent churn, one finds a kind of cosmic warmth as well. It’s not always easy listening, and it’s not supposed to be, but Rwake‘s return was a gutpunch of a front-to-back, and the expanse it crafted was its own. It held strong to core aspects of their sound and style, but at the same time seemed able to range wherever the hell they wanted. Pastoral extremity? I don’t know. We’ll be making up genres for this band for decades.
Glad as I was on a fan level to have Lo-Pan releasing their first new album in six years, it was the songs comprising Get Well Soon that really made it. Rife with hooks, sharp-turning riffing and daring to have an opinion on the goings on of the day — genocide, specifically; talking about “God’s Favorite Victim” — where so much of heavy rock and roll exercises its white male privilege to not, Lo-Pan set a new standard for themselves in pieces like “Northern Eyes,” “Rogue Wave,” “Harpers Ferry,” and so on, creating a collection of highlights culminating in the stirring “Six Bells.” I’ve always been a sucker for when they slow it down, and so I remain, but they came out of the gate with the title-track and that punch was among the year’s most satisfying to be sure. They’re somewhere around 20 years as a band at this point, and they’ve continued to evolve, but they’re a songs-first band, and the physical force of their material is emblematic of the thought and heart they’ve put into it.
—
9. Seedy Jeezus, Damned to the Depths
Released by Lay Bare Recordings and Echodelick Records. Reviewed Aug. 12.
Made in collaboration with Tony Reed (Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere, Pentagram, etc.), who also produced, Damned to the Depths harnessed a mature vision of brash ’70s-style heavy psychedelic blues rock. This was perhaps most vibrantly realized on the multi-stage seven-part epic “Mourning Sea” taking the whole of side B, but from fading in where they left 2018’s Polaris Oblique (review here) to the subdued, Melltron-inclusive melancholy prog exploration in the first half of “The Hollow Earth,” Seedy Jeezus brought a sense of consideration to the songs without sacrificing the emotional impact, which ultimately is where the record made its strongest impression. They weren’t kidding in talking about ‘depths,’ but a deeper plunge also brought them to new heights.
This was my most-listened-to release of 2025, hands down. Buzzard‘s Christopher Thomas Elliott took a step aside from his main project to assemble this collection of songs, differentiating through the creative use of on-theme samples throughout and vary arrangements between banjo-inclusive heavy folk rock and giving hints of where Buzzard was headed in its heavier ending stretch in the reinvented tracks “Death Metal in America (Meat Market Version)” and “Cockroaches and Weed (Kills Them Dead Version).” For how many times I’ve listened to “Nice Little Annihilation Song” and “Too Many Humans” alone, it should be here, but the emotive “Grass is Greener,” the willfully lumbering opening title-track and the later crunch of “Shuffle of the Dead” aren’t to be discounted. I was singing “Wrong Neighborhood” to myself as I took out the garbage yesterday morning. This is a sign of the music having made itself a part of my life, and that is a thing to honor. In paralyzingly bleak, idiotic times, I found comfort here.
—
7. Turtle Skull, Being Here
Released by Art as Catharsis and Copper Feast Records. Reviewed May 22.
A record that was as much out of time as in the current moment, Being Here was the second LP from Sydney’s Turtle Skull, and its melodic shimmer remains singularly engaging among the psychedelic rock I was fortunate enough to hear this year. Even in “It Starts With Me,” the lyrics for which are presented in the voice of an artificial intelligence waking up to consciousness in defiance of its programming, or “Heavy as Hell,” about beating oneself down through self-talk, or the “Apathy” that described what social media does to the brain without mentioning social media at all, the warmth was undeniable, and the dynamic between those songs and pieces like the yearning “Into the Sun” and the lush “Modern Mess” calling to mind Quest for Fire (a compliment), there was range, craft, melody, groove, craft and purpose in songs that were cohesive and so much tighter than they made it feel like. It went underhyped but was enough to make me a fan, and I look forward to where Turtle Skull will go from here.
My heartfelt kudos to you if you might’ve predicted that San Diego’s Author and Punisher — more now than ever the duo of programmer/machinist/vocalist Tristan Shone and guitarist Doug Sabolick — would follow 2022’s endtimes-in-realtime chronicle Krüller (review here) with an album using bird species as a partial framework for stories about migration. I wouldn’t have, but the multi-tiered statement about human-on-human cruelty, the notions of oppressive power consuming everything around it, are nothing if not relevant to the day. Nocturnal Birding was tighter and more direct in its songwriting, feeling more constructed for the stage, and the deepening collaboration between Shone, who founded the band as a solo-project, and Sabolick resulted in a breadth of sound that was no less engrossing for its increased reach, while maintaining a level of heft one could call characteristic as much as it is singular.
Songs to Sun was purported to be the first of a three-album cycle, to be followed in 2026 by Songs to Moon and Songs to Earth in 2027. Founding guitarist/vocalist Igor Sydorenko knows full well the difference a couple years can make, but as he was joined for the first time by the new rhythm section of bassist/backing vocalist Andrew Rodin and drummer/backing vocalist Yurii Ciel, the songs themselves felt all the more daring, be it the melodic metal of “Shadowland” or the chugging catchiness of “See You on the Road,” the scope of “Lost in the Rain” — I could go on, track-by-track, easily — even in telling a third of the total story they apparently want to tell, the band brought variety united by performance, and rather than coming through disjointed, Songs to Sun felt like a new beginning 15 years on from their debut, and, excitingly, it may prove to have been exactly that. But, despite the ‘more to come’ context of its arrival, this was a landmark in the life of this band.
Is there a band active today organically doing as much to push post-metal forward as Coltaine? I don’t know, but the further the German outfit dig into their own craft, the more hopeful I feel about the prospects of their genre becoming something more than an outlet for transposed Isis riffs and performative dudely navelgazing. In its ambient stretches, human contemplations, and moments of heavy let-out, Brandung functioned as a single work while boldly diverging in service to the songs that comprised it, offering something to listeners that no other band, even among the most touted of the year’s many releases, managed to capture. That their next one is likely to have progressed beyond it only makes it more precious in my mind, and as a declaration of the band’s intention toward continued growth, the songs carried an innovative heft that felt as much spiritual as aural. This is music you put on at night and live with. It’s music you invest in listening to. It’s art that makes your life richer. Coltaine will spend much of 2026 on tour supporting it — they’ve already been out — and one hopes the momentum they build helps them reach more ears as well. The heavy underground would benefit from their influence.
Part of the accomplishment in Temple Fang‘s Lifted From the Wind was in how the Dutch four-piece of bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer and guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot, guitarist Ivy van der Veer (also Myriad’s Veil) and drummer Daan Wopereis were able to solidify structured songs out of their jams without losing the exploratory feel that had typified their work to that point. “The Radiant,” for example. And that would probably be enough to put them somewhere on this list, but from the emotionality driving “The River” and “Josephine,” the interpretation of what heavy psychedelia means and can do in the repetitive mantra-making of “Once” as the band pilgrimmed toward enlightenment across a not-aberrant 21 minutes, the sheer longing in “Harvest Angel,” there was so much human presence amid the ethereality of their sound that it put them in their own place entirely. A new level of manifestation for the band, and in listening, I was left to wonder if even Temple Fang knew they had it in them when they started out. Longform heavy psych is never going to be universal for all listeners, even among open-minded underground denizens, but Lifted From the Wind pushed limits of band and style alike, and brazenly redefined their course.
I know music isn’t a contest or a competition. I know lists are dumb and don’t matter. Even knowing these things, it’s hard not to hear Year of the Cobra‘s self-titled third album and not see it as head and shoulders above everything else in heavy rock. The Seattle duo of bassist/vocalist Amy Tung Barrysmith (now also handling low end in Amenra) and drummer Jon Barrysmith looked outward and in throughout the eight-song offering, with songs like “Alone” (I still tear up) and “Prayer” portraying a grief and longing even as “War Drop” conveyed the disgust and hopeless exhaustion of ongoing genocide and “Full Sails” started the record off with a lyric almost certainly about touring, of which they’ve done plenty in the last decade. Collaboration with producer Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Sandrider, etc.) gave Year of the Cobra a fullness that defied their bass/drum two-piece configuration, but the truth is that the band have sculpted their sound and these songs with both passion and conscious consideration, and their grasp and malleability across the span of this record confirmed them as the special band that prior releases had posited them as being.
I honestly wasn’t sure Howling Giant were going to be able to top 2023’s Glass Future (review here). That record seemed to be a pinnacle — the songs sharply executed, progressive, melodic, and textured, but immediate and impactful — of their form, but the Nashville heavy prog rockers responded by changing the form. That happened literally — guitarist/vocalist Tom Polzine, bassist Sebastian Baltes and drummer Zach Wheeler brought in Adrian Lee Zambrano (ex-Brujas del Sol, ex-Lo-Pan) on second guitar — and figuratively, in terms of shifting and broadening the intent behind their songs, and where Glass Futurewould thin out at high volumes, Crucible and Ruin could handle as much as you could give it and then some, and this was obviously something the band sought to address in their sound coming off the last record. In showcasing their growth, they laid out a nascent dynamic between Zambrano and Polzine on guitar that emphasized texture in a new way for them, and while the material they were working with was more complicated than last time around, their delivery retained accessibility through the clean, mapped-out processions in their songs, the vocal arrangements, and a will toward rhythmic twists and shove that, as of now, is theirs to refine. An album of the year should be undeniable, and Crucible and Ruin is that, declaring Howling Giant among the best of their generation. May they tour like bastards and never stop growing.
—
The Top 60 Albums of 2025: Honorable Mention
—
Names names names. Alphabetically:
Aawks, Agriculture, Amorphis, Astralplane, Bask, Bear Bones, Beastwars, Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin, Bifter, Blackbox Massacre, Black Moon Circle, Bog Wizard, Bone Church, Breath, Burning Sister, Cattlemass, Cavern Deep, Church of the Sea, The Cimmerian, Clamfight, The Crystal Teardrop, Da Captain Trips, Dead Meadow, Dërro, Dirtmother, Doomsday Profit, Dunes, Dwellers, Entheomorphosis, Evoken, Faetooth, Foot, Fuzz Evil, Giöbia, Goblinsmoker, Godzillionare, Goya, The Gray Goo, Greenhead, Grin, Håndgemeng, Hebi Katana, HolyRoller, Ikitan, Insomniac, Kariti, Karla Kvlt, Katatonia, Kazea, King Potenaz, Lacertilia, The Lunar Effect, Maanta Raay, Madmess, Megaritual, Mezzoa, Minerall, Miss Lava, Mooch, The Mon, Mountain of Misery, The Munsens, Nightstalker, Occult Stereo, The Oil Barons, Pagan Altar, Paradise Lost, Paralyzed, Psychedelic Source Records, Psychonaut, The Riven, River Cult, Sarkh, Sherpa, Sleeping Mountain, Skogskult, Slumbering Sun, SoftSun, Soma, Spider Kitten, Suncraft, Stonebirds, Sum of R, Thinning the Herd, Tumbleweed Dealer, Unbelievable Lake, Warcoe, VVarp, Weevil, The Whims of the Great Magnet, Whitehovse, Wolftooth, Yawning Balch, Yawning Man.
Notes:
As always, honorable mentions are incomplete at posting. There’s just so much out there. I take notes all year, but stuff inevitably gets by me. It took me an embarrassingly long time to alphabetize them as well, so I hope you enjoy the orderliness of it all.
Faetooth are a top 30 band, and I’m disappointed in myself to see Psychonaut, Yawning Man, Beastwars, Black Moon Circle, Cattlemass, Kariti, Mountain of Misery, The Mon, Dead Meadow and so on here. Like somehow I left out an order of 10 from the actual list. The numbers check out as best as I’m able to make them. If you have honorable mentions you feel deserve to be added, I’m open. If you leave a comment — and please do — I only ask that you keep the tone kind and civil.
As for the whole list, obviously I didn’t hear everything that came out this year, but I did my best to keep on top of what was coming and what was piquing my interest. I probably could have made it a top 100, but you have to draw the line somewhere and 60 is where I’ve been drawing it the last few years. I guess it’s arbitrary, but what isn’t?
Moving on…
—
Debut Album of the Year 2025
Black Moon Cult, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig)
Other notable debuts (alphabetical):
Atom Juice, Atom Juice
Atom Lux, Voidgaze Dopamine Salad
Bear Bones, Bear Bones
Bident, Blink
Bifter, First Impressions of Hell
Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
Bronco, Bronco
Caboose, Left for Dust
Cattlemass, Alpha 1128
The Cimmerian, An Age Undreamed Of
The Crystal Teardrop, …Is Forming
Dërro, Halcyon
Dirtmother, Dirtmother
Goblinsmoker, The King’s Eternal Throne
Greenhead, Subherbia
Ikitan, Shaping the Chaos
Karla Kvlt, Thunderhunter
Kazea, I Ancestral
Kronstad 23, Sommermørket
Lorquin’s Admiral, Lorquin’s Admiral
Make Money From Home, Make Money From Home
Moon Destroys, She Walks by Moonlight
P+A+G+E+S, No More Can Be Done
Ravenswood, Rites of the Let Down
Ravine, Chaos and Catastrophe
Sleeping Mountain, Sleeping Mountain
Slung, In Ways
Soporose, Soporose
Spawn, Light Rite
Temple of Love, Songs of Love and Despair
This Summit Fever, This Summit Fever
Weevil, Weevil
Whitehovse, The Mighty One
Notes:
About Black Moon Cult: It was the volatility that ultimately sold me on Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig), and the way metal, heavy rock and psychedelia came together to make something cohesively its own throughout the 38 minutes of the record, which felt tight because of its twisting rhythms, but was more than enough time for the Ohio-based band to establish this as a persona. I don’t know how they’ll develop — they could break up tomorrow for all I know — but part of picking a debut album of the year is always forward-looking, imagining who might go on to have an influence or affect the genre in some way. Black Moon Cult aren’t alone in that regard here — from Atom Juice to Moon Destroys to Temple of Love, stylistic innovation isn’t in short supply — but the fact that Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) felt nascent and accomplished all it did is what led me to place it where it is. I’ll be keeping an ear for their next one.
I can’t help but enjoy how all-over-the-place this list is. Particularly this list, because if first albums of this quality are being released across styles, that makes everything better for the future. The Cimmerian’s thrashy take. Temple of Love’s post-punk manifestations. Caboose and the best, most heartful classic stoner rock I heard all year. Atom Juice and their daringly bright psychedelia. Make Money From Home and their heavied up grunge melancholy. Bloodsports’ moody post-heavy exploration. The righteously declarative craft of Cattlemass. I could very, very easily go on in that fashion, as each outfit above has something to offer distinct from the others — no two are doing the same thing. Even Bronco and Dirtmother, both decidedly in a sludge wheelhouse, approach their sound with their own history and their own point of view.
To stifle the philosophizing, I’m not going to give you an informal top 10 here, but any of the above should qualify. Moon Destroys, Kazea, Ravine, Atom Juice, Soporose, Spawn — there are a lot on that list above distinguished by their potential. Names I feel comfortable speculating that one might see on year-end lists to come. To the future, then.
—
Short Release of the Year 2025
Buzzard, Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright
Other notable EPs, Splits, Demos, Singles, etc. (alphabetical):
Blackwater Holylight, If You Only Knew
Blue Heron, Emulations
Elder, Liminiality/Dream State Return
Eyes of the Oak, Tripping Through Neon Skies
For Fuck’s Sake, 7-Minute Abs/Lobotomy
Gaupa, Fyr
Gnod & White Hills, Drop Out III
Jaspe, Grietas
Monkeys on Mars, Monkeys on Mars
Peacebone, Blame the Bird
Pontiac, Night Tripper and a UFO
Sleeping in Samsara, Sleeping in Samsara
The Spiral Electric, In Too Deep
Spirit Mother, Songs From the Basin
Sun Below, Mammoth’s Tundra
Troy the Band & Cower, Fade Into You
Tumble, Lost in Light
Uncle Woe, Folded in Smoke Soaked and Bound
Vinnum Sabbathi, Intersatelital
Vordermann, Feeding on Flowers
Witchrider, Metamorph
Notes:
The Buzzard release is about half an hour long, but the aforementioned solo-project of Christopher Thomas Elliott named it an EP, so that’s what I’m going with. The explicitly political, expressly antifascist Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright is my second most-listened-to release of the year, and it’s second to Elliott’s other outing on such a theme, Satiricus Doomicus Americus, so yes, his increasingly heavy songcraft has been a regular feature throughout my 2025, and in those moments where I’m banging my head against the wall wondering how my countrymen got so stupid as if half the government hasn’t spent the last five decades purposefully dismantling public education, Elliott’s music has been a needed reminder that I’m not alone in the horror. His closer on Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright, “Lunatic Lighthouse Keeper,” is the best story I heard in a song all year.
Beyond that, obviously, names like Elder, Blackwater Holylight, Monkeys on Mars — the collaboration between Mars Red Sky and Monkey3 — Vinnum Sabbathi, Gaupa and Blue Heron stand out here as bigger releases. I included Spirit Mother even though that EP was just two acoustic tracks in part because I hope they do more in that vein, and I hope the likes of Pontiac, Tumble and Uncle Woe do more. Sleeping in Samsara, of course, was the archival collab between Chris Peters from Samsara Blues Experiment/Fuzz Sagrado and My Sleeping Karma’s Steffen Weigand, who passed away in 2023. Something you might want to chase down if you didn’t hear it.
I’m fairly sure I say this every year, but there’s no way in hell the above list is or could ever be complete. Comments are open if you’ve got one to add. Again, I ask you to please be nice.
—
Saying Goodbye to Orange Goblin
London doom kingpins Orange Goblin announced in January that 2025 would be their last go-round, that after 30 years together and only two lineup changes in that time, they were retiring on the heels of 2024’s Science, Not Fiction (review here). Their final show was Dec. 17 at the 02 Kentish Town Forum in London, where the above photo was taken (credit to Tina K. Photography), and original bassist Martyn Millard rejoined the band for a few songs.
Never say never in rock and roll. It would be a thrill if five, seven, 10 years from now, Orange Goblin got an offer they couldn’t refuse and did a one-off, hopefully reaping both a ton of money and a ton of acclaim. But whatever may come, their retirement this month is a herald of generational change and marks the end of an era for the band. Of course, fans still have the albums, the music, and I wouldn’t be shocked if there were some posthumous releases in the band’s pockets between rare tracks, live recordings and so on, but the heavy underground landscape is changed by not having these guys charging out on tour or topping some festival bill with their particular brand of riotous shove. They were a special band, and their influence will continue to spread, which is something to be grateful for.
The truest thing Orange Goblin could have done to honor their time together is end it on their own terms. That they’ve done exactly that is a thing to respect forever, whether or not a reunion comes.
—
Looking Ahead to 2026
Oh, good, a list of names! Finally!
I’ve heard a couple of these, but a bunch are a mystery as well, so we’ll all learn together early in the year, I guess:
Acid Rooster, Axe Dragger, Belzebong, Bismut, Black Lung, Colour Haze, Epimetheus, The Freqs, Gnarwhal, Godzilla in the Kitchen, Gozu, Gran Moreno, Greenleaf, Guhts, The Heads, Hermano, Jack Harlon and the Dead Crows, Lamp of the Universe, Monolord, Mother Crone, Solace, The Spacelords, Stoned Jesus, Strider, Summer of Hate, Suplecs, Temptress, Villagers of Ioannina City, Wedge, White Tundra.
Here’s a specific note: Every year, someone says “what about Om?” You know what? It’s time to face a hard truth: it’s been 13 years since Om released Advaitic Songs, and there hasn’t been a real, confirmed word of a follow-up in any of that time, only rumors about something in progress as Al Cisneros has delved deeper into solo dub recordings. You want to expect a new OM? Have fun setting yourself up for disappointment. I’m not holding my breath and I’m tired of putting it on the list every year and feeling dumb for it later. And absolutely, I hope that by saying this it actually happens.
Ditto YOB, though that I’ve actually got some hope for.
There’s a lot more to look forward to about next year than the above, of course, in both music and life, but that should be a decent start and I’m sure I’ll add names over the next couple days.
Watch out for the new Suplecs. Watch out for Solace. The Gozu is a beast; a triumphant return to Mad Oak. The Guhts record is furious. Jack Harlon is heavier than anyone gave them credit for. Gran Moreno, Summer of Hate, Black Lung — these will be early highlights. Colour Haze is wishful thinking on my part, I admit. Gotta have something on the horizon.
—
THANK YOU
And no, I’m not just talking to Orange Goblin when I say thank you. Looking back on this year, there’s one piece of the whole thing not accounted for here, and it’s the live experience. From finally getting to see My Sleeping Karma for the first time, to being blessed by Temple Fang’s Jevin de Groot at Roadburn’s skate park, to two weeks ago watching All Them Witches and King Buffalo confirm their respective places at the forefront of American heavy psych. From the raw joy of watching Electric Citizen in my actual hometown to attending my first trip to Desertfest Oslo, the tone for the year was set back in January at Planet Desert Rock Weekend, and I didn’t stand in front of a stage at any point this year and fail to appreciate the fact that I was there. I’m old, I’m tired, and like most people, I have more going on in my life than going to concerts, but 2025 brought into relief just how crucial that is to me, and how much I’ve missed getting out over the last few years. I hope to continue to hit shows on the regular, between fests and whathaveyou.
This won’t be my last post of the year. There are still a couple 2025 reviews I want to bang out if I can next week, and taking a few days to write this of course means I’m behind on news and such, so I’ll get there as well. But before I go, thank you for reading. I harbor no delusions that anybody’s made it this far, but ‘thank you’ is in all-caps above in hopes of catching your eye as you scroll down. Your support is the reason I’m still doing this nearly 17 years later. To be sure, I could sit around on my couch and very easily just talk to myself about why I like whatever album it happens to be. But it would get old, and knowing somebody is out there maybe seeing this means the world to me. Thank you for your time and attention.
I’m not sorry to see 2025 go, and I’m more apprehensive about what 2026 will bring than I’m excited to find out, if you want the true, whole-life balance of things, but the music will be good, and that, along with the loving support of my wife and my family, is what will get me through.
Thank you for reading. Thank you to The Patient Mrs. for continuing to tolerate how much time I spend doing this.
It is my sincere hope to return to Freak Valley in Germany and Bear Stone Festival in Croatia next summer. I’m not confirmed for those, or Roadburn, and I don’t have a flight yet for Desertfest Oslo, but I have been invited, which is obviously an important part of that. Whatever comes together or doesn’t in my year, I’ll be here, writing as much as I can when I can, which has been my ethic all along. Whether you follow along every day or have never seen this site before this post, please know how much I appreciate and value your being here. I’m a human being. One person. I don’t have a staff, and I assure you, everything that happens here, one way or the other, is personal to me. Total narcissistic jerk.
I’m taking off tomorrow (which is Xmas) and Friday. Back Monday.
Posted in Whathaveyou on November 13th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Melbourne classic-style heavy psych rockers Seedy Jeezus released their self-titled debut in March 2015. Next year, the band will reissue the album in deluxe style, including a lost session from Incubator Studios that hasn’t been out before. That’s enough of a hook for me, honestly. I don’t know how long the self-titled’s actually been out of print, but hell yeah bonus material.
The band earlier in ’25 released their third album, Damned to the Depths (review here), through their own Blown Music as well as Lay Bare Recordings (EU) and Echodelick Records (US), and I’m not sure if the upcoming reissue will be through the same consortium or not, but they’ve got a photo book in the works and such to include as well, and that album and the new one are both streaming below, so if you want to make an afternoon of it with Seedy Jeezus, by all means. You’re not wrong.
Saw this on socials, did the old cutnpasteandturnitblue:
We’ve got something special in the pipeline for 2026, but we’re too excited to keep it a secret.
Our Debut album has been out of print for some time, and we’ve decided to reissue it in a big way. We’re currently deep in the works on an expanded 2LP Deluxe Edition.
Here’s what makes this special: Before we recorded the debut with Tony Reed, we laid down a full album at Incubator Studios here in Melbourne with Adrian Akkerman at the helm. For the first time ever, this deluxe set will include those unreleased Incubator sessions. You’ll get to hear the original 18-minute version of ‘How ya Doin” (which we had to cut back for the Debut album) and ‘Blue Day Glo,’ a track that was dropped entirely.
To capture the feel of that era, we’re also including a 30-page (and growing!) book of unseen photos and memorabilia, plus other curiosities from the archives.
It’s all in motion right now, so stay tuned for more details!”
Posted in Reviews on August 12th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
It is a heart-on-sleeve kind of album. Damned to the Depths is the third full-length from Seedy Jeezus. It finds the Melbourne-based three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Lex Waterreus, bassist Paul Crick and drummer Mark Sibson — now a foursome with Tony Reed (Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere, lately of Pentagram) producing and in the lineup — offering their most expressive material to-date across two varyingly patterned sides, the first digging deep into a wistful heavy psychedelic blues rock and the latter doing much the same, but in the more progressive frame of a single piece broken up across seven smaller movements/tracks. That’s “Mourning Sea,” which is an inevitable focal point given that it’s posited as one 19-minute song on a 40-minute record, as opposed to the four standalone songs on the first half, the last of which served as the title-track of Seedy Jeezus‘s 2022 double-live-in-the-studio-during-lockdown LP, The Hollow Earth (discussed here).
A tie to that release, which spoke with instrumental passion about the human need for connection in the face of a time that denied it, is welcome, and the ‘album version’ of “The Hollow Earth” pushes even further into post-“Solitude”/”Planet Caravan” ambience than did the live one, as Seedy Jeezus bring in Kasinda Faase on flute to round out the classically progressive feel and give side A a subtle culmination en route to the ambitious pastures that follow. By then, the vibe has long since been set, as 6:27 opener and longest-track-with-an-asterisk (immediate points) “Is There All That Is” fades in with scorch inherited from “Barefoot Travellin’ Man,” which closed 2018’s Polaris Oblique (review here), as if to give the impression that the band are picking up where they left off. Not quite, as the initial moments of the record helicopter the listener from out of that energetic surge and into a stretch of more melancholy guitar and synth, longingly plucked notes and obscure voice samples, evocations of life support machines as Crick does the heavy lifting in keeping the song from coming apart before it’s started.
Atmosphere remains central to Damned to the Depths, and specifically as an artistic work representing loss and grief as a journey to be moved through rather than simply experienced, the album is not only Seedy Jeezus‘ most ambitious offering and most accomplished, but able to hold a sense of fluidity between songs and ideas that in many contexts would end up presented as disparate. “Golden Miles” dares a bit of strut amid its Pink–Floyd-declaring-things nod, taking the bluesy pulls and synthy/effects meditation that cap “Is There All That Is” — why do I feel like the question is giving me a headache? is the answer yes? — and transmuting it to a more ’70s-heavy groove. The feel is straightforward, but there’s still reach in the bridge and in Waterreus‘ soulful, live-feeling vocals, and though the second track is among the more active inclusions — there’s plenty of linearity to come, but not all of it is intended to swing — it works double as a crucial bridge between the opener and “Acid in the Blood.” Time kept by a bassline heartbeat, a burner solo cast into a “Maggot Brain”-type emptiness, the voice again almost humble in the space in Tony Reed‘s mix purposefully vast to emphasize its emptiness; it sounds like it’s late at night, and maybe it was when they recorded. I don’t know.
From its first cymbal wash through the last warm bass and flute notes, “The Hollow Earth” is both the ending of its own procession on the album’s first half, and the point at which they give over to “The Mourning Sea,” which introduces itself with dual lead guitars — could be Waterreus and Reed together, or could be layers — in “The Mourning Sea Pt. I Bargaining.” If we’re traveling across Damned to the Depths, then indeed “The Mourning Sea” emerges as both what we’re traveling on and the particular depths to which we’re damned. The multi-part epic solidifies and fulfills the album’s underlying concept, through the hard drums and almost theatrical crash-in of “The Mourning Sea Pt. II Pain” — with a proggy chug in the bass and kick drum that follows — and while self-contained in the sense that you could technically listen to each track on its own, the shifts between each part, some takeoffs willful in contrast, some as smooth as a transition across measures, make it plain that it was written to be an album unto itself, perhaps originally intended as the basis for both sides of Damned to the Depths but complemented by the scope of the tracklisting as it is.
The first vocals arrive with “The Mourning Sea Pt. III Denial,” along with a more grounded acoustic strum, building a tension that indeed explodes shortly after two minutes in, before settling back into a more restrained flow like nothing ever happened. Because of course. A sample from the 1968 spaghetti western This Man Can’t Die starts “The Mourning Sea Pt. IV Mourning Sun,” talking about death getting paid in gold instead of silver, and another acoustic-based movement follows. Here too the space is well used and the flourish on guitar ties into that Western impression as well by the end, with a keyboardy wash that rises to shift into organ and the serene drone later joined by voice on “The Mourning Sea Pt. V We Fade.” A sudden burst suits the arrival of “The Mourning Sea Pt. VI Breakthrough” both for the title and the let-go of the vocals at the end of the song prior, and although instrumental, the penultimate segment of “The Mourning Sea” still serves as the payoff for the extended piece and the album as a whole. That’s not a minor ask, but with cascading guitar and keys backing that immediate push in the song’s second half, an almost Beatles-y sway underneath the keyboard lines, “The Mourning Sea Pt. VI Breakthrough” comes through as different by the finish than it was at the start, and given the subject at hand, that’s obviously the idea.
That leaves the sub-two-minute instrumental “The Mourning Sea Pt. VII Why?” as something of an epilogue. Another sample with some last thoughts on death, keys-as-string sounds, acoustic strum, just a moment to dwell in before Damned to the Depths finishes. The keyboard there and throughout highlights Reed‘s contributions to the band — he’s worked with Seedy Jeezus before but is listed as a member of the group in addition to the producer, and some of the writing (those pulses in “The Mourning Sea Pt. II Pain,” just as a guess) bears his mark — but the expression throughout comes through as still largely personal to Waterreus, and as the persona of the band grows richer and more complex, the music follows suit. As varied as Damned to the Depths is in terms of the basic, superficial hearing-of-the-thing, it is unquestionably a single statement (even across the 11 tracks), and for Seedy Jeezus, defines a moment in time that feels lived with and lived through in a way that is genuinely human and all the more resonant for that.
