Based in the weirdo hotspot of Asheville, North Carolina, double-guitar prog-sludge newcomers Shadowcloak are set to issue their self-titled debut EP on May 3. Info is fairly sparse on the five-piece, but drummer Zane Oskins and vocalist Dave Gayler have both been in the more metallic As Sick as Us at one point or another, tonally-recognizable guitarist Adrian Lee Zambrano is an Ohio transplant known for his work heavy-progressives Brujas Del Sol (he was also in Lo-Pan for a stretch about a decade ago), and bassist Paul McBride — who leads the way into opening track “Dark Days” on the EP and has since been replaced by Jacob Barr — plays in Voraath, so if you’re looking to account for a variety of influence in the lineup completed by guitarist Bryan Wiedenhoeft, you don’t have to dig particularly deep to do so. And listening through, you might just be inspired to do that digging.
Shadowcloak‘s Shadowcloak runs 28 minutes, and they probably could have called it their first album if they’d wanted to, but that they didn’t speaks to an intention toward development going forward, and while the aforementioned “Dark Days” unfolds from its short atmospheric intro into a pointed, driving groove, guitars aligned in chug and Gayler‘s throaty bark echoing overtop in rhythmic lockstep, seeming to recede into itself at the end of the chorus before coming forward again in the next verse. But while it’s quick, that build-up intro is the first hint of Shadowcloak‘s ambient side, and as “Dark Days” shifts post-midpoint into an effects-strewn proggy break, it becomes clear there’s more at work than post-hardcore-rooted sludge, and the airy solo that serves as crescendo soon enough confirms it.
The sense of a group exploring ideas and collective craft — and whether you’ve been in a band before or not, when you’re in a new one that exploration begins again — is palpable, but “Night After Night” begins a process whereby each individual piece adds something to the total, flowing impression of the EP, cutting back on some of the insistence in terms of pace without giving up the leadoff’s aggressive edge in the more melodic chorus. “Night After Night” has a break/build in its second half as well, dropping its title-line before Oskins does a handful of laps around the toms and the bass and guitars realign around correspondingly spacious effects and the solo that follows. But the chorus comes back to end “Night After Night,” and the push into melody continues instrumentally as centerpiece “Leave Me My Name” unfurls its more subdued outset before, as will happen, diving headfirst into more grueling, crunching sludge.
But they’re not done, and “Leave Me My Name” starts bringing what are intuitively thought of as different sides together with “Everything is Gone” and “Discomfort/Disorder” — which is premiering below and is one of the earlier songs written; go figure — following suit after. Some cleaner-sung lines in “Leave Me My Name” complement the sustained chorus shouts just as the sharper stops of the riff are met with more sprawling lines, and “Everything is Gone” brings a verse left purposefully open with the vocal melody at the fore of the mix, on their own, instead of answering back to the central shouts as in “Leave Me My Name.” This linear narrative, the movement between the songs included, comes to define a significant aspect of Shadowcloak‘s persona as a release, flows readily despite the corners being turned, and comes off less like a ‘concept-album’ (or EP, as it were) than a band who understand how to set up their material to enact a communication with itself. And the resulting conversation is part of what they’re exploring here for the first time as a new group.
And when it comes time to enter its sway, the harmonized Crowbarry riff pulls of “Discomfort/Disorder” and grounded movement of the verse in the shortest track of the five still leave room for post-metallic flourish and rawer-sounding vocal emoting. They’ll top it off with an all-in chug-shove to finish, but the break-and-build structure is present too as Shadowcloak call back to how they set forth and present a concise summary of most (I wouldn’t say all) of the EP’s scope, and likewise showcase the potential for creative growth and expanding on the ideas presented here. We live in a universe of infinite possibilities, so that may or may not happen, but by the end of Shadowcloak‘s sub-half-hour, it’s pretty clear they’ve figured more than a few things out.
“Discomfort/Disorder” premieres on the player below, followed by a quote from the band and more info hoisted off the PR wire.
Try something new:
Shadowcloak, “Discomfort/Disorder” track premiere
Shadowcloak on “Discomfort/Disorder”:
“Discomfort/Disorder is one of the first songs we wrote together as a band. It really set the tone for how we wanted to approach this project— with a balance of raw and cleaner vocals, Discomfort/Disorder is heavy, progressive and driving. Funnily enough, it’s where we ended up taking our band name from. Lyrically it touches on feelings of loneliness, acceptance and inevitable heaviness of decisions made.”
Forged in the smoke-strewn mountains of Asheville, North Carolina in 2023, Shadowcloak summons the spirits of bands like Mastodon, Cult of Luna, and Pelican.
Crafting ardently patient movements with delicate synth, deep fusions of inspired guitar work and raw, methodical drumming, Shadowcloak hurdles listeners through vacuous space. On the other side is a sense of calm and completion through Shadowcloak’s unique brand of visceral storytelling.
Tracklisting: 1. Dark Days 2. Night After Night 3. Leave Me My Name 4. Everything is Gone 5. Discomfort/Disorder
Shadowcloak are: Adrian Lee Zambrano: guitar Dave Gayler: vocals Zane Oskins: drums Jacob Barr: bass Bryan Wiedenhoeft: guitar
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 4th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
It’s something of a surprise to see Slower touring. The Slayer covers project helmed by guitarist Bob Balch released its self-titled debut (review here) through Heavy Psych Sounds earlier this year, and even then, the lineup was broadly cast enough to make live performances seem less likely. In addition to Balch, Amy Tung Barrysmith and Esben Willems — who will be the on-stage incarnation of the band — the album also featured Peder Bergstrand (Lowrider), Laura Pleasants (ex-Kylesa) and Scott Reeder (Kyuss, The Obsessed, etc.), so you might be forgiven if the possibility of Slower as a touring entity didn’t occur to you either.
And certainly not even among the three players heading out, no one’s lacking for goings on. Balch is about to release a new Fu Manchu album this Spring, Barrysmith recently finished recording the next Year of the Cobra (awaited), and Willems put out his first-ever solo LP like a week ago. Oh, you’re gonna go tour with a completely different band playing rearranged thrash songs in Europe? Yeah, cool. I mean, if you’re not busy or anything.
The prospect is no less badass for being unexpected, however, and if this is a testing of waters for more to come and Slower will be ongoing, so much the better. Between the three of them, they could get up there and do “Wheels on the Bus” and it’d be heavy. I’ll look forward to the video that hopefully someone at a show gets.
Doomstar Bookings posted the following:
Slower announce their European Tour 2024! Check out all dates below!
Slower states: “Everything in this project just fell into place naturally, even though none of us really knew what to expect going in, other than being inspired by the idea. Now that the album has become reality, it feels like a given to get these songs on the road. Cannot wait to play them live, this one is gonna be a blast.”
Posted in Reviews on February 29th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Day four of five puts the end of this Quarterly Review in sight, as will inevitably happen. We passed the halfway point yesterday and by the time today’s done it’s the home stretch. I hope you’ve had a good week. It’s been a lot — and in terms of the general work level of the day, today’s my busiest day; I’ve got Hungarian class later and homework to do for that, and two announcements to write in addition to this, one for today one for tomorrow, and I need to set up the back end of another announcement for Friday if I can. The good news is that my daughter seems to be over the explosive-vomit-time stomach bug that had her out of school on Monday. The better news is I’ve yet to get that.
But if I’m scatterbrained generally and sort of flailing, well, as I was recently told after I did a video interview and followed up with the artist to apologize for my terribleness at it, at least it’s honest. I am who I am, and I think that there are places where people go and things people do that sometimes I have a hard time with. Like leaving the house. And parenting. And interviewing bands, I guess. Needing to plow through 10 reviews today and tomorrow should be a good exercise in focusing energy, even if that isn’t necessarily getting the homework done faster. And yeah, it’s weird to be in your 40s and think about homework. Everything’s weird in your 40s.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
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Monkey3, Welcome to the Machine
What are Monkey3 circa 2024 if not a name you can trust? The Swiss instrumental four-piece are now more than 20 years removed from their 2003 self-titled debut, and Welcome to the Machine — their seventh album and fourth release on Napalm Records (three studio, one live) — brings five new songs across 46 minutes of stately progressive heavy craft, with the lead cut “Ignition” working into an early gallop before cutting to ambience presumably as a manifestation of hitting escape velocity and leaving the planetary atmosphere, and trading from there between longer (10-plus-minute) and shorter (six- and seven-minute) pieces that are able to hit with a surprising impact when they so choose. Second track “Collision” comes to crush in a way that even 2019’s Sphere (review here) didn’t, and to go with its methodical groove, heavy post-rock airiness and layered-in acoustic guitar, “Kali Yuga” (10:01) is tethered by a thud of drums that feels no less the point of the thing than the mood-aura in the largesse that surrounds. Putting “Rackman” (7:13, with hints of voice or keyboard that sounds like it), which ends furiously, and notably cinematic closer “Collapse” (12:51) together on side B is a distinct immersion, and the latter places Monkey3 in a prog-metal context that defies stylistic expectation even as it lives up to the promise of the band’s oeuvre. Seven records and more than two decades on, and Monkey3 are still evolving. This is a special band, and in a Europe currently awash in heavy instrumentalism of varying degrees of psychedelia, it’s hard to think of Monkey3 as anything other than aesthetic pioneers.
With its Sabbath-born chug and bluesy initial groove opening to NWOBHM grandeur at the solo, the opening title-track is quick to reassure that Sweden’s The Quill are themselves on Wheel of Illusion, even if the corresponding classic metal elements there a standout from the more traditional rock of “Elephant Head” with its tambourine, or the doomier roll in “Sweet Mass Confusion,” also pointedly Sabbathian and thus well within the wheelhouse of guitarist Christian Carlsson, vocalist Magnus Ekwall, bassist Roger Nilsson and drummer Jolle Atlagic. While most of Wheel of Illusion is charged in its delivery, the still-upbeat “Rainmaker” feels like a shift in atmosphere after the leadoff and “We Burn,” and atmospherics come more into focus as the drums thud and the strings echo out in layers as “Hawks and Hounds” builds to its ending. While “The Last Thing” works keyboard into its all-go transition into nodding capper “Wild Mustang,” it’s the way the closer seems to encapsulate the album as a whole and the perspective brought to heavy rock’s founding tenets that make The Quill such reliable purveyors, and Wheel of Illusion comes across like special attention was given to the arrangements and the tightness of the songwriting. If you can’t appreciate kickass rock and roll, keep moving. Otherwise, whether it’s your first time hearing The Quill or you go back through all 10 of their albums, they make it a pleasure to get on board.
Equal parts brash and disillusioned, Nebula Drag‘s Dec. 2023 LP, Western Death, is a ripper whether you’re dug into side ‘Western’ or side ‘Death.’ The first half of the psych-leaning-but-more-about-chemistry-than-effects San Diego trio’s third album offers the kind of declarative statement one might hope, with particular scorch in the guitar of Corey Quintana, sway and ride in Stephen Varns‘ drums and Garrett Gallagher‘s Sabbathian penchant for working around the riffs. The choruses of “Sleazy Tapestry,” “Kneecap,” “Side by Side,” “Tell No One” and the closing title-track speak directly to the listener, with the last of them resolved, “Look inside/See the signs/Take what you can,” and “Side by Side” a call to group action, “We don’t care how it gets done/Helpless is the one,” but there’s storytelling here too as “Tell No One” turns the sold-your-soul-to-play-music trope and turns it on its head by (in the narrative, anyhow) keeping the secret. Pairing these ideas with Nebula Drag‘s raw-but-not-sloppy heavy grunge, able to grunge-crunch on “Tell No One” even as the vocals take on more melodic breadth, and willing to let it burn as “Western Death” departs its deceptively angular riffing to cap the 34-minute LP with the noisy finish it has by then well earned.
LLNN & Sugar Horse, The Horror bw Sleep Paralysis Demon
Brought together for a round of tour dates that took place earlier this month, Pelagic Records labelmates LLNN (from Copenhagen) and Sugar Horse (from Bristol, UK) each get one track on a 7″ side for a showcase. Both use it toward obliterating ends. LLNN, who are one of the heaviest bands I’ve ever seen live and I’m incredibly grateful for having seen them live, dig into neo-industrial churn on “The Horror,” with stabbing synth later in the procession that underscores the point and less reliance on tonal onslaught than the foreboding violence of the atmosphere they create. In response, Sugar Horse manage to hold back their screams and lurching full-bore bludgeonry for nearly the first minute of “Sleep Paralysis Demon” and even after digging into it dare a return to cleaner singing, admirable in their restraint and more effectively tense for it when they push into caustic sludge churn and extremity, space in the guitar keeping it firmly in the post-metal sphere even as they aim their intent at rawer flesh. All told, the platter is nine of probably and hopefully-for-your-sake the most brutal minutes you might experience today, and thus can only be said to accomplish what it set out to do as the end product sounds like two studios would’ve needed rebuilding afterward.
Fuzzter aren’t necessarily noisy in terms of playing noise rock on Pandemonium, but from the first cymbal crashes after the Oppenheimer sample at the start of “Extinción,” the Peruvian outfit engage an uptempo heavy psych thrust that, though directed, retains a chaotic aspect through the band’s willingness to be sound if not actually be reckless, to gang shout before the guitars drift off in “Thanatos,” to be unafraid of being eaten by their own swirl in “Caja de Pandora” or to chug with a thrashy intensity at the start of closer “Tercer Ojo,” doom out massive in the song’s middle, and float through jazzy minimalism at the finish. But even in that, there are flashes, bursts that emphasize the unpredictability of the songs, which is an asset throughout what’s listed as the Lima trio’s third EP but clocks in at 36 minutes with the instrumental “Purgatorio,” which starts off like it might be an interlude but grows more furious as its five minutes play out, tucked into its center. If it’s a short release, it is substantial. If it’s an album, it’s substantial despite a not unreasonable runtime. Ultimately, whatever they call it is secondary to the space-metal reach and the momentum fostered across its span, which just might carry you with it whether or not you thought you were ready to go.
The listed representation of dreams in “Dream One” adds to the concrete severity of Cold in Berlin‘s dark, keyboard-laced post-metallic sound, but London-based four-piece temper that impact with the post-punk ambience around the shove of the later “Found Out” on their The Body is the Wound 19-minute four-songer, and build on the goth-ish sway even as “Spotlight” fosters a heavier, more doomed mindset behind vocalist Maya, whose verses in “When Did You See Her Last” are complemented by dramatic lines of keyboard and who can’t help but soar even as the overarching direction is down, down, down into either the subconscious referenced in “Dream One” or some other abyss probably of the listener’s own making. Five years and one actual-plague after their fourth full-length, 2019’s Rituals of Surrender, bordering on 15 since the band got their start, they cast resonance in mood as well as impact (the latter bolstered by Wayne Adams‘ production), and are dynamic in style as well as volume, with each piece on The Body is the Wound working toward its own ends while the EP’s entirety flows with the strength of its performances. They’re in multiple worlds, and it works.
With the expansive songwriting of multi-instrumentalist/sometimes-vocalist Eric McQueen at its core, The Mountain King issue Apostasyn as possibly their 10th full-length in 10 years and harness a majestic, progressive doom metal that doesn’t skimp either on the doom or the metal, whether that takes the form of the Type O Negative-style keys in “The White Noise From God’s Radio” or the tremolo guitar in the apex of closer “Axolotl Messiah.” The title-track is a standout for more than just being 15 minutes long, with its death-doom crux and shifts between minimal and maximal volumes, and the opening “Dødo” just before fosters immersion after its maybe-banging-on-stuff-maybe-it’s-programmed intro, with a hard chug answered in melody by guest singer Julia Gusso, who joins McQueen and the returning Frank Grimbarth (also guitar) on vocals, while Robert Bished adds synth to McQueen‘s own. Through the personnel changes and in each piece’s individual procession, The Mountain King are patient, waiting in the dark for you to join them. They’ll probably just keep basking in all that misery until you get there, no worries. Oh, and I’ll note that the download version of Apostasyn comes with instrumental versions of the four tracks, in case you’d really like to lose yourself in ruminating.
The self-titled debut from Parisian doomers Witchorious is distinguished by its moments of sludgier aggression — the burly barks in “Monster” at the outset, and so on — but the chorus of “Catharsis” that rises from the march of the verse offers a more melodic vision, and the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Antoine Auclair, bassist/vocalist Lucie Gaget and drummer Paul Gaget, continue to play to multiple sides of a modern metal and doom blend, while “The Witch” adds vastness and roll to its creeper-riff foundation. The guitar-piece “Amnesia” serves as an interlude ahead of “Watch Me Die” as Witchorious dig into the second half of the album, and as hard has that song comes to hit — plenty — the character of the band is correspondingly deepened by the breadth of “To the Grave,” which follows before the bonus track “Why” nod-dirges the album’s last hook. There’s clarity in the craft throughout, and Witchorious seem aware of themselves in stylistic terms if not necessarily writing to style, and noteworthy as it is for being their first record, I look forward to hearing how they refine and sharpen the methods laid out in these songs. The already-apparent command with which they direct the course here isn’t to be ignored.
Though their penchant for cult positioning and exploitation-horror imagery might lead expectations elsewhere, North Carolinian trio Skull Servant present a raw, sludge-rocking take on their second LP, Traditional Black Magicks II, with bassist Noah Terrell and guitarist Calvin Bauer reportedly swapping vocal duties per song across the five tracks while drummer Ryland Dreibelbis gives fluidity to the current of distortion threaded into “Absinthe Dreams,” which is instrumental on the album but newly released as a standalone single with vocals. I don’t know if the wrong version got uploaded or what — Bauer ends up credited with vocals that aren’t there — but fair enough. A meaner, punkier stonerism shows itself as “Poison the Unwell” hints at facets of post-hardcore and “Pergamos,” the two shortest pieces placed in front of the strutting “Lucifer’s Reefer” and between that cut and the Goatsnake-via-Sabbath riffing of “Satan’s Broomstick.” So it could be that Skull Servant, who released the six-song outing on Halloween 2023, are still sorting through where they want to be sound-wise, or it could be they don’t give a fuck about genre convention and are gonna do whatever they please going forward. I won’t predict and I’m not sure either answer is wrong.
Notice of arrival is served as Lord Velvet dig into classic vibes and modern heft on their late 2023 debut EP, Astral Lady, to such a degree that I actually just checked their social media to see if they’d been signed yet before I started writing about them. Could happen, and probably will if they want it to, considering the weight of low end and the flowing, it’s-a-vibe-man vibe, plus shred, in “Lament of Io” and the way they make that lumber boogie through (most of) “Snakebite Fever.” Appearing in succession, “Night Terrors” and “From the Deep” channel stoned Iommic revelry amid their dynamic-in-tempo doomed intent, and while “Black Beam of Gemini” rounds out with a shove, Lord Velvet retain the tonal presence on the other end of that quick, quiet break, ready to go when needed for the crescendo. They’re not reinventing stoner rock and probably shouldn’t be trying to on this first EP, but they feel like they’re engaging with some of the newer styles being proffered by Magnetic Eye or sometimes Ripple Music, and if they end up there or elsewhere before they get around to making a full-length, don’t be surprised. If they plan to tour, so much the better for everybody.
Norway’s heavy renaissance continues with the May 10 release of Gjenferd‘s self-titled debut on Apollon Records. To be sure, youth is on Gjenferd‘s side as they unfurl “Starless” (premiering below) as the first single from the upcoming six-track LP, but with hints in “High Octane” of upstanding countrymen heavy rock preservationists Spidergawd, a thread of organ running throughout that is more than just mix-filler or complementary happenstance following the guitar pattern, and what seems like a clear idea of the kind of band they want to be, it’s a noteworthy arrival for more than just the harmonies and ’70s-prog-classicism-gone-rockin’ in the culmination of “Restless Nights,” the sweeping chorus in “Burning Soil” or the way the lead guitar in “Beneath the Wave” surges to the fore ahead of the jammier reach (still plotted but maybe part-improv) in “All That Remains is Haze,” though certainly all of those help.
There’s vintage worship happening, but not enough to push aside the breadth of the Hans Uhre production or the mix/master by now-of-Enslaved‘s Iver Sandøy. That speaks to the idea of the band knowing what they’re about as noted above, and in terms of the actual listening experience, I think you can hear in the seven minutes of “Starless” how they take advantage of modern tonal largesse to coincide with their root melodicism. I don’t think anyone’s claiming to have invented space here or trying to pretend they’ve invented a wholly new style, but neither is there want of personality or freshness of approach in the songs. If I tell you ‘heads up’ on the record and invite you to dig into the single, know that I’m trying to make your day better and think there’s a good chance this’ll do it. A bit of Rhodes dreaminess is good for the soul anyhow.
Please enjoy:
Gjenferd is a brand new band from Bergen (but formed in Kristiansand), Norway, inspired by heavy rock’s childhood when hammond organs and walls with guitar amplifiers dominated the stages. Long nights of lager, noise, obscure 70s records and rigging of way too heavy Fender Rhodes have resulted in an album that is a sonic explosion of tenacious and hard-hitting riffs, electric noise and idiotically catchy vocal harmonies.
On 1 March, the band will release the album’s first single “Starless”.
The band consists of members from, among others, Kryptograf, Edvard Borneo and Metusalem.
Recorded by: Hans Uhre Mix and master by: Iver Sandøy Artwork and layout: Robert Høyem Recorded at Grisehuset (Odderøya)
Gjenferd er: Vegard Bachmann Strand – Gitar og vokal Jakob Særvoll – Keyboard og vokal Samuel Robson Gardner – Bass Sivert Kleiven Larsen – Trommer
Posted in Reviews on February 27th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
A word about the image above. ‘AI art’ has become a thing people argue about on the internet. Like everything. Fine. I made the above image with a prompt through whatever Microsoft is calling its bot this week and got what I wanted. I didn’t have to talk to anyone or pay anyone in anything more than the personal data you compromise every time you use the internet for anything, and it was done. I could never draw, but when I finished, I felt like I’d at least taken part in some way in making this thing. And telling a computer what to make and seeing what it gets right and wrong is fascinating. You might feel a bit like you’re painting with words, which as someone who could never draw but could construct a sentence, I can appreciate.
I’m a big supporter of human creativity, and yes, corporations who already hold creative professionals — writers, editors, graphic designers, etc. — in such outward contempt will be only too happy to replace them with robots. I was there when magazines died; I know how that goes. But instead of being reactionaries and calling for never-gonna-happen-anyway bans, isn’t it maybe worth acknowledging that there’s no going back in time, that AI art isn’t going anywhere, and that it might just have valid creative uses? I don’t feel like I need to defend myself for making or using the image above, but I did try to get a human artist first and it didn’t work out. In the hard reality of limited minutes, how much should I really chase when there’s an easier way to get what I want? And how much can people be expected to live up to that shifting moral obligation in the long term?
The future will laugh at us, inevitably, either way. And fair enough with the world we’re leaving them.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
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Lord Dying, Clandestine Transcendence
While bearing the tonal force of their roots in doom, Portland’s Lord Dying have nonetheless willfully become a crucial purveyor of forward-thinking death metal, driven by extremity but refusing to subdue its own impulses to fit with genre. At 12 songs and an hour’s runtime, Clandestine Transcendence neither is nor is supposed to be a minor undertaking, but with a melodic declaration in “Unto Becoming” that’ll elicit knowing nods from Virus fans and a mentality of creative reach that’s worthy of comparison to Enslaved, Lord Dying showcase mastery of the style the four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Erik Olson, guitarist Chris Evans, bassist/vocalist Alyssa Maucere and drummer Kevin Swartz explored with vigilance on 2019’s Mysterium Tremendum (review here), and an ability to depart from aggression without losing their intensity or impact on “Dancing on the Emptiness” or in the payoff of “Break in the Clouds (In the Darkness of Our Minds).” They may be headed toward too-weird-for-everybody megaprogmetal ultimately, but the challenges-to-stylistic-homogeny of their material are only part of what gives Clandestine Transcendence its crux, and in fostering the call-and-response onslaught of “Facing the Incomprehensible” alongside the epic reach of “A Bond Broken by Death,” they cast their own mold as unique within or without of the heavy underground sphere.
The late-2023 self-titled debut from Black Glow marks a new beginning for Monterrey, Mexico, guitarist, vocalist and songwriter Gina Rios, formerly of Spacegoat, and something of a creative redirect, taking on a sound that is less indebted to boogie and classic doom but that has clearly learned the lessons of its influences. Also credited with producing (Victor “KB” Velazquez recorded, mixed and mastered, which doesn’t invalidate the credit), Rios is a strong enough performer to carry the five-song EP/short-LP on her own, but thankfully bassist Oscar Saucedo and drummer Octavio Diliegros bring tonal fullness to the breadth of atmosphere in the rolling closer “Obscured Jail,” reaching past seven minutes with fluidity that adds to Black Glow‘s aspects of purpose and craft, which are significant despite being the band’s first outing. As a vehicle for Rios‘ songwriting, Black Glow sound immediately like they can evolve in ways Spacegoat likely couldn’t or wouldn’t have, and that prospect is all the more enticing with the accomplishments displayed here.
Between the leadoff of “Into the Chronosphere” and “The Glowing Sea,” “Return to Antares,” “Burning Mountain” and “Desert Haze,” UK instrumentalists Cracked Machine aren’t short on destinations for the journey that is their fourth full-length, Wormwood, but with more angular texturing on “Eigenstate” and the blend of tonal float — yes, even the bass — and terrestrial groove wrought in the closing title-track, the band manage to emphasize plot as well as a sense of freedom endemic to jam-born heavy psychedelia. That is to say, as second cut “Song of Artemis” gives brooding reply to the energetic “Into the Chronosphere,” which is loosely krautrocky in its dug-in feel and exploratory as part of that, they are not trying to pretend this material just happened. Layers of effects and a purposeful reach between its low and high ends in the solo of “The Glowing Sea” — with the drums holding the two together, as one would hope — and subsequent section of standalone guitar as the start of a linear build that spreads wide sonically rather than overpowering with volume speaks to a dynamic that’s about more than just loud or quiet, and the keyboard holding notes in the culmination of “Burning Mountain” is nothing if not purposeful in its shimmering resonance. They may be headed all over the place, but I think that’s just a sign Cracked Machine know how to get there.
Currently also of Kamchatka and Spiritual Beggars and maybe Switchblade, the career arc of Per Wiberg (also ex-Opeth, live work and/or studio contributions for Candlemass, Grand Magus, Arch Enemy, mostly on keys or organ) varies widely in style within a heavy sphere, and it should be no surprise that his solo work is likewise multifaceted. Following on from 2021’s EP, All Is Well In the Land of the Living But for the Rest of Us… Lights Out (review here), the six-song and 41-minute (seven/47 with the bonus track Warrior Soul cover “The Losers”) finds cohesion in a thread of progressive styles that allows Wiberg to explore what might be a Gary Numan influence in the verses of “The Serpent’s Here” itself while emerging with a heavy, catchy and melodic chorus marked by a driving riff. The eight-minute “Blackguards Stand Silent” works in movements across a structural departure as the rhythm section of Mikael Tuominen (Kungens Män) and drummer Tor Sjödén (Viagra Boys) get a subtle workout, and “He Just Disappeared” pushes into the cinematic on a patient line of drone, a contemplative departure after the melancholic piano of “This House is Someone Else’s Now” that allows “Follow the Unknown” to cap the album-proper with a return to the full-band feel and a pointed grace of keys and synth, clearly working to its creator’s own high standard.
Bremen, Germany’s Swell O released their apparently-recorded-in-a-day debut album, Morning Haze, in Feb. 2023 and followed with a vinyl release this past Fall on Clostridium Records, and if there’s anything clouding their vision as regards songwriting, it didn’t make it onto the record. Proffering solid, engaging, festival-ready desert-style heavy rock, “Hitchhiker” sweeps down the open highway of its own riff while “Black Cat” tips hat to Fu Manchu, the title-track veers into pop-punkish uptempoism in a way “Shine Through” contrasts with less shove and more ambience. The seven-minute “Summit” extrapolates a lean toward the psychedelic from Kyussian foundations, but the crux on Morning Haze is straightforward and aware of where it wants its songs to be aesthetically. It’s not a revolution in that regard, but it’s not supposed to be, and for all its in-genre loyalism, Morning Haze demonstrates an emergent persona in the modernized ’90s fuzz-crunch semi-blowout of “Venom” at the end, which wraps a salvo that started with “Hitchhiker” and lets Swell O make the most of their over-quickly 31-minute first LP.
Accounting for everything from goth to post-hardcore to the churn of Godflesh in an encompassing interpretation of post-punk, London outfit Cower could fill this space with pedigree alone and manage to nonetheless make a distinct impression across the nine songs of Celestial Devastation. Organic and sad on “We Need to Have the Talk,” inorganic and sad on “Hard-Coded in the Souls of Men,” electronic anti-chic before the guitar surge in “Buffeted by Solar Winds,” and bringing fresh perspective to Kataonia-style depressive metal in “Aging Stallions,” it’s a album that willfully shirks genre — a few of them, actually — in service to its songs, as between the software-driven title-track and the downer-New-Wave-as-doom centerpiece “Deathless and Free,” Cower embark on an apparent critique of tech as integrated into current life (though I can’t find a lyric sheet) and approach from seemingly divergent angles without losing track of the larger picture of the LP’s atmosphere. Celestial Devastation is the second album from the trio, comprised of Tom Lacey, Wayne Adams (who also produced, as he will) and Gareth Thomas. Expect them to continue to define and refine this style as they move forward, and expect it to become even more their own than it is here. A band like this, if they last, almost can’t help but grow.
Boston’s HORSEN3CK, who’ve gone all-caps and traded their second ‘e’ for a ‘3’ since unveiling the included-here “Something’s Broken” as a debut standalone single this January, make a rousing four-song statement of intent even as the lineup shifts from piece to piece around the core duo of Tim Catz and Jeremy Hemond, best known together for their work as the rhythm section of Roadsaw. With their maybe-not-right-now bandmate Ian Ross adding guitar to “Something’s Broken” and a different lead vocalist on each song, Heavy Spells has inherent variety even before “Haunted Heart” exalts its darker mood with pulls reminiscent of Alice in Chains‘ “Frogs.” With Catz taking a turn on vocals, “Golden Ghost” is punk under its surface class, and though “Haunted Heart” grows in its crescendo, its greater impact is in the vibe, which is richer for the shift in approach. “Thirst” rounds out with a particular brashness, but nowhere HORSEN3CK go feels even vaguely out of their reach. Alright guys. Concept proved, now go do a full-length. When they do, I’ll be intrigued to see if the lineup solidifies.
New Jersey doom rockers Troll Teeth‘s stated goal with Sluagh Vol. 1 was to find a sound the character of which would be defined in part by its rawer, retro-styled recording. The resultant four-song outing, which was their second EP of 2023 behind Underground Vol. 1, doesn’t actually veer into vintage-style ’70s worship, but lives up to the premise just the same in its abiding rawness. “3 Shots for a 6 Shooter” brings a Queens of the Stone Age-style vocal melody over an instrumental that’s meaner than anything that band ever put to tape, while nine-minute opener “1,000 Ton Brick” feels very clearly titled in honor of its own roll. It might be the heaviest stretch on the EP but for the rumbling low distortion spliced in among the psychedelic unfolding of 16-minute closer “Purgatory,” which submerges the listener in its course after “Here Lies” seems to build and build and build through the entirety of its still-hooky execution. With its title referencing the original name of the band and a focus on older material, the rougher presentation suits the songs, though it’s not like there’s a pristine “1,000 Ton Brick” out there to compare it to. Whether there will be at Sluagh Vol. 2 at any point, I don’t know, but even the intentionality of realizing his material in the recording process argues in favor of future revisits.
Celebrating their own dark side in the opener “Wicked Voice,” German heavy rockers Black Ocean’s Edge keep the proceedings relatively friendly on Call of the Sirens, their debut long-player behind 2022’s Dive Deep EP, at least as regards accessibility and the catchiness of their craft. Vibrant and consistent in tone, the Ulm four-piece find room for the classic rock of “Leather ‘n’ Velvet” and the that-might-be-actual-flute-laced prog-psych payoff of “Lion in a Cage” between the second two of the three parts that comprise the title-track, which departs from the heavy blues rock of “Drift” or “Cold Black Water,” which is the centerpiece and longest inclusion at 7:43 and sets its classic-heavy influences to work with a forward-looking perspective. At 42 minutes and nine tracks, Call of the Sirens feels professional in how it reaches out to its audience, and it leaves little to doubt from Black Ocean’s Edge as regards songwriting, production or style. They may refine and sharpen their approach over time, and with these songs as where they’re coming from, they’ll be in that much better position to hit the ears of the converted.
Note: this album is out in April and I couldn’t find cover art. Band photo above is by Matija Kasalo.
If an album could ask you, musically, why you’re in such a hurry — and not like hurrying to work, really in a hurry, like in how you live — the mellow psych and acid folk proffered by Adelaide, Australia’s SONS OF ZÖKU on their second full-length, ËNDLËSS, might just be doing that. Don’t take that to mean the album is still or staid though, because they’re not through “Moonlight” after the intro before the bass gets funky behind all that serene melody, and when you’re worshiping the sun that’s all the more reason to dance by the moon. Harmonies resonate in “Earth Chant” (and all around) atop initially quiet guitar noodling, and the adventures in arrangement continue in the various chimes and percussion instruments, the touch of Easternism in “Kuhnoo” and the keyboard-fueled melodic payoff to the pastoralism of “Hunters.” With flute and a rhythmic delivery to its group vocal, “O Saber” borders on the tribal, while “Yumi” digs on cosmic prog insistence in a way that calls to mind the underappreciated Death Hawks and finds its way in a concluding instrumental stretch that doesn’t lose its spontaneous feel despite being more cogent than improv generally comes across. “Lonesome Tale” is a melancholy-vibe-reprise centered around acoustic guitar and “Nu Poeme” gives a sense of grandeur that is unto itself without going much past four minutes in the doing. Such triumphs are rare more broadly but become almost commonplace as SONS OF ZÖKU set their own context with a sound harnessing the inspiration of decades directing itself toward an optimistic future.
Posted in Reviews on February 26th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Admittedly, there’s some ambition in my mind calling this the ‘Spring 2024 Quarterly Review.’ I’m done with winter and March starts on Friday, so yeah, it’s kind of a reach as regards the traditional seasonal patterns of Northern New Jersey where I live, but hell, these things actually get decided here by pissing off a rodent. Maybe it doesn’t need to be so rigidly defined after all.
After doing QRs for I guess about nine years now, I finally made myself a template for the back-end layout. It’s not a huge leap, but will mean about five more minutes I can dedicate to listening, and when you’re trying to touch on 50 records in the span of a work week and attempt some semblance of representing what they’re about, five minutes can help. Still, it’s a new thing, and if you see ‘ARTIST’ listed where a band’s name should be or LINK where ‘So and So on Facebook’ goes, a friendly comment letting me know would be helpful.
Thanks in advance and I hope you find something in all of this to come that speaks to you. I’ll try to come up for air at some point.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
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Slift, Ilion
One of the few non-billionaire groups of people who might be able to say they had a good year in 2020, Toulouse, France, spaceblasters Slift signed to Sub Pop on the strength of that wretched year’s Ummon (review here) and the spectacle-laced live shows with which they present their material. Their ideology is cosmic, their delivery markedly epic, and Ilion pushes the blinding light and the rhythmic force directly at you, creating a sweeping momentum contrasted by ambient stretches like that tucked at the end of 12-minute hypnotic planetmaker “The Words That Have Never Been Heard,” the drone finale “Enter the Loop” or any number of spots between along the record’s repetition-churning, willfully-overblown 79-minute course of builds and surging payoffs. A cynic might tell you it’s not anything Hawkwind didn’t do in 1974 offered with modern effects and beefier tones, but, uh, is that really something to complain about? The hype around Ilion hasn’t been as fervent as was for Ummon — it’s a different moment — but Slift have set themselves on a progressive course and in the years to come, this may indeed become their most influential work. For that alone it’s among 2024’s most essential heavy albums, never mind the actual journey of listening. Bands like this don’t happen every day.
The only thing keeping Grin from being punk rock is the fact that they don’t play punk. Otherwise, the self-recording, self-releasing (on The Lasting Dose Records) Berlin metal-sludge slingers tick no shortage of boxes as regards ethic, commitment to an uncompromised vision of their sound, and on Hush, their fourth long-player which features tracks from 2023’s Black Nothingness (review here), they sharpen their attack to a point that reminds of dug-in Swedish death metal on “Pyramid” with a winding lead line threaded across, find post-metallic ambience in “Neon Skies,” steamroll with the groove of the penultimate “The Tempest of Time,” and manage to make even the crushing “Midnight Blue Sorrow” — which arrives after the powerful opening statement of “Hush” “Calice” and “Gatekeeper” — have a sense of creative reach. With Sabine Oberg on bass and Jan Oberg handling drums, guitar, vocals, noise and production, they’ve become flexible enough in their craft to harness raw charge or atmospheric sprawl at will, and through 16 songs and 40 minutes (“Portal” is the longest track at 3:45), their intensity is multifaceted, multi-angular, and downright ripping. Aggression suits this project, but that’s never all that’s happening in Grin, and they’re stronger for that.
A debut solo-band outing from guitarist, bassist, vocalist and songwriter Dave Cotton, also of Seven Nines and Tens, Pontiac‘s Hard Knox lands on strictly limited tape through Coup Sur Coup Records and is only 16 minutes long, but that’s time enough for its six songs to find connections in harmony to Beach Boys and The Beatles while sometimes dropping to a singular, semi-spoken verse in opener/longest track (immediate points, even though four minutes isn’t that long) “Glory Ragged,” which moves in one direction, stops, reorients, and shifts between genres with pastoralism and purpose. Cotton handles six-string and 12-string, but isn’t alone in Pontiac, as his Seven Nines and Tens bandmate Drew Thomas Christie handles drums, Adam Vee adds guitar, drums, a Coke bottle and a Brita filter, and CJ Wallis contributes piano to the drifty textures of “Road High” before “Exotic Tattoos of the Millennias” answers the pre-christofascism country influence shown on “Counterculture Millionaire” with an oldies swing ramble-rolling to a catchy finish. For fun I’ll dare a wild guess that Cotton‘s dad played that stuff when he was a kid, as it feels learned through osmosis, but I have no confirmation of that. It is its own kind of interpretation of progressive music, and as the beginning of a new exploration, Cotton opens doors to a swath of styles that cross genres in ways few are able to do and remain so coherent. Quick listen, and it dares you to keep up with its changes and patterns, but among its principal accomplishments is to make itself organic in scope, with Cotton cast as the weirdo mastermind in the center. They’ll reportedly play live, so heads up.
Already fluid as they open with the rocker “Into the Space,” exclamatory Chilean five-piece The Polvos! delve into more psychedelic reaches in “Fire Dance” and the jammy and (appropriately) floaty midsection of “Going Down,” the centerpiece of their 35-minute sophomore LP, Floating. That song bursts to life a short time later and isn’t quite as immediate as the charge of “Into the Space,” but serves as a landmark just the same as “Acid Waterfall” and “The Anubis Death” hold their tension in the drums and let the guitars go adventuring as they will. There’s maybe some aspect of Earthless influence happening, but The Polvos! meld that make-it-bigger mentality with traditional verse/chorus structures and are more grounded for it even as the spaces created in the songs give listeners an opportunity for immersion. It may not be a revolution in terms of style, but there is a conversation happening here with modern heavy psych from Europe as well that adds intrigue, and the band never go so far into their own ether so as to actually disappear. Even after the shreddy finish of “The Anubis Death,” it kind of feels like they might come back out for an encore, and you know, that’d be just fine.
The Cosmic Gospel, Cosmic Songs for Reptiles in Love
With a current of buzz-fuzz drawn across its eight component tracks that allow seemingly disparate moves like the Blondie disco keys in “Hot Car Song” to emerge from the acoustic “Core Memory Unlocked” before giving over to the weirdo Casio-beat bounce of “Psychrolutes Marcidus Man,” a kind of ’60s character reimagined as heavy bedroom indie, The Cosmic Gospel‘s Cosmic Songs for Reptiles in Love isn’t without its resentments, but the almost-entirely-solo-project of Mercata, Italy-based multi-instrumentalist Gabriel Medina is more defined by its sweetness of melody and gentle delivery on the whole. An experiment like the penultimate “Wrath and Gods” carries some “Revolution 9” feel, but Medina does well earlier to set a broad context amid the hook of opener “It’s Forever Midnight” and the subsequent, lightly dub beat and keyboard focus on “The Richest Guy on the Planet is My Best Friend,” such that when closer “I Sew Your Eyes So You Don’t See How I Eat Your Heart” pairs the malevolent intent of its title with light fuzzy soloing atop an easy flowing, summery flow, the album has come to make its own kind of sense and define its path. This is exactly what one would most hope for it, and as reptiles are cold-blooded, they should be used to shifts in temperature like those presented throughout. Most humans won’t get it, but you’ve never been ‘most humans,’ have you?
Massachusetts garage doomers Grave Speaker‘s self-titled debut was issued digitally by the band this past Fall and was snagged by Electric Valley Records for a vinyl release. The Mellotron melancholia that pervades the midsection of the eponymous “Grave Speaker” justifies the wax, but the cult-leaning-in-sound-if-not-theme outfit that marks a new beginning for ex-High n’ Heavy guitarist John Steele unfurl a righteously dirty fuzz over the march of “Blood of Old” at the outset and then immediately up themselves in the riffy stoner delve of “Earth and Mud.” The blown-out vocals on the latter, as well as the far-off-mic rawness of “The Bard’s Theme” that surrounds its Hendrixian solo, remind of a time when Ice Dragon roamed New England’s troubled woods, and if Grave Speaker will look to take on a similar trajectory of scope, they do more than drop hints of psychedelia here, in “Grave Speaker” and elsewhere, but they’re no more beholden to that than the Sabbathism of capper “Make Me Crawl” or the cavernous echo of “Earthbound.” It’s an initial collection, so one expects they’ll range some either way with time, but the way the production becomes part of the character of the songs speaks to a strong idea of aesthetic coming through, and the songwriting holds up to that.
While at the same time proffering his most expansive vision yet of a progressive psychedelia weighted in tone, emotionally expressive and able to move its focus fluidly between its layers of keyboard, synth and guitar such that the mix feels all the more dynamic and the material all the more alive (there’s an entire sub-plot here about the growth in self-production; a discussion for another time), Surya Kris Peters‘ 10-song/46-minute There’s Light in the Distance also brings the former Samsara Blues Experiment guitarist/vocalist closer to uniting his current projects than he’s yet been, the distant light here blurring the line where Surya Kris Peters ends and the emergently-rocking Fuzz Sagrado begins. This process has been going on for the last few years following the end of his former outfit and a relocation from Germany to Brazil, but in its spacious second half as well as the push of its first, a song like “Mode Azul” feels like there’s nothing stopping it from being played on stage beyond personnel. Coinciding with that are arrangement details like the piano at the start of “Life is Just a Dream” or the synth that gives so much movement under the echoing lead in “Let’s Wait Out the Storm,” as Peters seems to find new avenues even as he works his way home to his own vision of what heavy rock can be.
Unilateralis is the four-song follow-up EP to Polish heavydelvers Gozd‘s late-2023 debut album, This is Not the End, and its 20-plus minutes find a place for themselves in a doom that feels both traditional and forward thinking across eight-minute opener and longest track (immediate points, even for an EP) “Somewhere in Between” before the charge of “Rotten Humanity” answers with brasher thrust and aggressive-undercurrent stoner rock with an airy post-metallic break in the middle and rolling ending. From there, “Thanatophobia” picks up the energy from its ambient intro and explodes into its for-the-converted nod, setting up a linear build after its initial verses and seeing it through with due diligence in noise, and closer “Tentative Minds” purposefully hypnotizes with its vague-speech in the intro and casual bassline and drum swing before the riff kicks in for the finale. The largesse of its loudest moments bolster the overarching atmosphere no less than the softest standalone guitar parts, and Gozd seem wholly comfortable in the spaces between microgenres. A niche among niches, but that’s also how individuality happens, and it’s happening here.
You wouldn’t accuse Austria’s Sativa Root of thematic subtlety on their third album, Kings of the Weed Age, which broadcasts a stoner worship in offerings like “Megalobong” and “Weedotaur” and probably whatever “F.A.T.” stands for, but that’s not what they’re going for anyway. With its titular intro starting off, spoken voices vague in the ambience, “Weedotaur”‘s 11 minutes lumber with all due bong-metallian slog, and the crush becomes central to the proceedings if not necessarily unipolar in terms of the band’s approach. That is to say, amid the onslaught of volume and tonal density in “Green Smegma” and the spin-your-head soloing in “Assassins Weed” (think Assassins Creed), the instrumentalist course undertaken may be willfully monolithic, but they’re not playing the same song five times on six tracks and calling it new. “F.A.T.” begins on a quiet stretch of guitar that recalls some of YOB‘s epics, complementing both the intro and “Weedotaur,” before bringing its full weight down on the listener again as if to underscore the message of its stoned instrumental catharsis on its way out the door. They sound like they could do this all day. It can be overwhelming at times, but that’s not really a complaint.
Comprised of guitarist/vocalist Mateusz, bassist Michał and drummer Tomek, Polish riffcrafters Volt Ritual are appealingly light on pretense as they offer Return to Jupiter‘s four tracks, and though as a Star Trek fan I can’t get behind their lyrical impugning of Starfleet as they imagine what Earth colonialism would look like to a somehow-populated Jupiter, they’re not short on reasons to be cynical, if in fact that’s what’s happening in the song. “Ghostpolis” follows the sample-laced instrumental opener “Heavy Metal is Good for You” and rolls loose but accessible even in its later shouts before the more uptempo “Gwiazdolot” swaps English lyrics for Polish (casting off another cultural colonialization, arguably) and providing a break ahead of the closing title-track, which is longer at 7:37 and a clear focal point for more than just bearing the name of the EP, summarizing as it does the course of the cuts before it and even bringing a last scream as if to say “Ghostpolis” wasn’t a fluke. Their 2022 debut album began with “Approaching Jupiter,” and this Return feels organically built off that while trying some new ideas in its effects and general structure. One hopes the plot continues in some way next time along this course.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 20th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
What I can’t get over here is how glad I am that Gothenburg’s Cities of Mars put out their 2022 self-titled (review here) before they put the band to bed, seemingly for good. What will now serve as the swansong from the big-riff conceptual/sci-fi themed trio was without a doubt the pinnacle of their progression up to the point of its release, following 2019’s The Horologist (review here) with a marked intentionality in their songwriting and a collection of tracks that reached boldly into new spaces. I’m sorry Cities of Mars won’t get its own foll0w-up, but nine years out from 2015’s initial single, Cyclopean Ritual/The Third Eye (review here), set their plotline in motion beneath the rusty Martian surface, fair enough to consider the tale as told as it’s going to be.
I’ll take a second to wish the band the best, and to say thanks for the work they did and the concrete-sledge-upside-the-head their grooves fostered. They’re very much stating the announcement below as a farewell — “we will miss you all, great people of the heavy underground…,” which does not say to me, “look for our new bands in two weeks” — but whatever they get up to, whether it’s different heavy projects or nothing at all, what they did together as Cities of Mars remains. From my standpoint, they were a joy to write about from the first offering to the last.
Their message is below, and duly up front in its point of view. I bought a shirt on Bandcamp as my own little goodbye. Here you go:
Even good things come to an end.
Following a shared decision between all band members, Cities of Mars is now dissolved.
We had a good run where we achieved more than we ever expected: we made four beautiful vinyl albums, we toured the underground scene in twelve countries, made so many new great friends and had mostly good times (and some bad times too, as it goes). We’ve had the opportunity to visited so many amazing cities and have played cool festivals.
We would like to extend our heartfelt thanks to everyone who came to any of our shows, shared a beer, bought a tee, helped us book a gig, promoted a show, gave us food or shelter or in many other ways became a part of our humble journey. Thanks to all the great bands we shared the stage and laughs with and whose company we’ve really enjoyed.
Some extra thanks are required: Roger Andersson, Gero Argonauta, Todd Severin, Ripple Music, Esben Willems, Kent Stump
For us it’s time to move on and do different things but we will miss you all, great people of the heavy underground, where the love of music is real. Be kind to another and be a part of the good fight that is needed in our bleak times.
All the best wishes and again, thank you! /Daniel, Chris & Johan
Cities of Mars: Danne Palm – lead vocals, bass, synths Christoffer Norén – lead vocals, guitar Johan Aronstedt – backing vocals, drums & percussion, sound FX
Posted in Reviews on February 16th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Guitarist Bob Balch would seem to be on something of a creative binge, between an impending Fu Manchu 2LP and recent releases from Yawning Balch and Big Scenic Nowhere, and with Slower he presents a manifestation of the ultimate beer-drunk band idea. “What if, like, you took Slayer, and slowed it down?”
That’s what Slower is on paper. The songs of seminal Californian thrashers Slayer, played slower. The reality of Slower, which is the Balch-led project’s Heavy Psych Sounds-delivered debut album, is a selection of five covers that offers a richer experience than the math of the band’s purpose might lead one to believe. The Slayer originals they’ve chosen to rework — “War Ensemble,” “Blood Red,” and “Dead Skin Mask” from 1990’s Seasons in the Abyss, “The Antichrist” from 1983’s Show No Mercy and, to close, the title-track of 1988’s South of Heaven — are classics within the sphere of metal, and are treated with due respect even as they’re rearranged and turned into something pointedly not what they originally were.
This is done with care and love of the source material, and a sense of curation that is all the more resonant with the lineup Balch assembled for the project. Drummer Esben Willems (of Monolord; he has a solo album coming in addition to appearing here) in Gothenburg, Sweden, vocalist Amy Tung Barrysmith (Year of the Cobra) in Seattle, and bassist Peder Bergstrand (Lowrider) in Stockholm comprise the ‘main band’ on the record, developing a persona of their own even on covers through means of the rearrangement process. That is, they took the songs and reworked them. No one here is inexperienced or incapable. If you believe in supergroups, Slower‘s pretty damn super even before you get to Laura Pleasants (The Discussion, ex-Kylesa) and Scott Reeder (currently Sovereign Eagle, ex-Kyuss, The Obsessed, Goatsnake, needs to do another solo record, etc.) swapping in on vocals and bass, respectively, for “South of Heaven” at the finish. A goofy, fun idea for a band/album as Slower might be, the end result is pointedly not bullshit where it very easily (perhaps with different personnel) could have been.
Underlining the point: Slower is not a tossoff. It’s not a joke band. While indeed the songs are largely reduced in tempo, there is an aspect of the project that feels a bit like the impetus behind it was Balch wanting to take on playing both the Kerry King and Jeff Hannneman (from whose 2013 death the band never really recovered) solos, which he does with all suitable respect for the personalities of Slayer‘s two guitarists, whammy squeals and speed enough to speak to thrash. If that was the case, fair enough for the homage. It’s just a thing not everyone could do at the level it’s done here. Some of those shredfest ripper solos are no less iconic than the lyrical declarations of the choruses to “War Ensemble” or “Dead Skin Mask,” and they are put on a pedestal along with a treasure trove of groove that was lurking beneath the furious intensity of the originals. “War Ensemble,” opening here as it does on Seasons in the Abyss with some transposed urgency, unveils its central riff as a righteous nodder with Bergstrand bringing new tonal presence to the verse, Willems‘ casual double-kick giving an easy ride into the stop, and Barrysmith in immediate command.
The five-minute original becomes the 10-minute cover (it is both opener and longest track; immediate points), and as a lead-in for “The Antichrist,” “Blood Red” and “Dead Skin Mask,” “War Ensemble” blends the familiar — it was one of Slayer‘s many landmarks and a live-set feature for decades before the band ‘ended’ (never say never) in 2019 with 12 records and enough influence to make a project like this happen across microgenres — the surprises it holds and affirmations it makes are crucial to what follows. One doesn’t necessarily think of Slayer as an atmospherically-minded band, though they were at times (and perhaps a second Slower LP could honor Slayer and Sabbath both in opening with the storm at the start of “Raining Blood”; uniting worlds or at least disparate ends of the same one), but Slower dig into “The Antichrist” and find a gritty slog that becomes insistent in a chorus that takes the already-doubled vocals and adds backing tracks to emphasize a depth that is Slower‘s own in a song that, being a deeper cut — as opposed to a Slayer ‘hit,’ I guess? they did used to play their music videos on the tee-vee sometimes — allows Balch (who trips out the midsection admirably taring toward psychedelia), Barrysmith, Bergstrand and Willems to flesh it out and find a new path to the rotted-soul ascension of its title figure.
The melody emergent in “The Antichrist” is expanded upon in “Blood Red,” the centerpiece of the CD and presumed side B opener on the LP, as the verse riff becomes a strut and the chorus opens to a breadth Slower have been holding in reserve. It’s an un-pop singalong, complete with backing ‘oohs’ for “You cannot hide the face of death/Oppression ruled by bloodshed/No disguise can deface evil/The massacre of innocent people,” which are lines that sadly retain their relevance these 34 years after the fact, and are more sinister for the sweetness of Barrysmith‘s delivery. With “Dead Skin Mask” and “Seasons in the Abyss” still to come, “Blood Red” has a harder road making an impression, and that was true with Slayer‘s version as well in 1990, but amid the forward roll and chug of the verse and the arrival-point feel of the hook, it is the vocals even more that distinguish it as an unexpected highlight.
And I know Slayer have a ton of iconic tracks, from the prior-mentioned “Raining Blood” through “Disciple,” “Angel of Death” — maybe better to leave that one alone? — and “Piece by Piece,” but especially the first and maybe only time out, pairing “Dead Skin Mask” and “South of Heaven” at the end of Slower‘s Slower feels natural. The latter came before the former, and is arguably the most ‘doom’ Slayer ever got, where “Dead Skin Mask” showed up on the next album and refined those very purposes. Both are the kinds of songs dudes get tattoos of, but as they have all along, Slower tread carefully in terms of balancing respect for where the songs came from and taking them where they want to go. Not to be understated is the subversive element of a woman delivering the lyrics to “Dead Skin Mask,” which was never explicit but strongly implied misogynist violence, and Barrysmith resounds in the chorus, where “Dance with the dead in my dreams…” becomes a chant and all the more consuming for that. While I wish they repeated that finish four or five more times, I’m happy to take what I can get.
As noted, “South of Heaven” brings a lineup switch, Reeder stepping in for Bergstrand — the inclusion of those two speaks as well to Balch wanting to bring a new sense of presence to the low end; he could easily have handled bass himself as an afterthought; as is, bass becomes an essential part of the character of the band in a way Slayer‘s Tom Araya probably wouldn’t have expected — and Pleasants taking over for Barrysmith. Dark toned, Balch begins on guitar and Reeder and Pleasants soon join for the opening build, ending of course with the line “Before you see the light” stretched to fill the new spaces in the riff before the guitar, bass and drums stop cold to let Pleasants croon the second part of the lyric: “You must die.”
Shit, I’m ready. Let’s go. If you could get audio tattooed on your person, that moment might be worth carrying around for the rest of your life but it’s already ingrained in the heads of Slayer fans, so take that as you will. Pleasants toys with the verse arrangement somewhat, perhaps covering some awkwardness in the patterning born of the change in pace with effects and layering, but it’s nothing that feels out of line with the mood or atmosphere Slower bring to “South of Heaven,” the stinkface-inducing stomp of Willems‘ drums glorious in manifesting a sense of methodical aggression over the chaos referenced in the chorus — “Chaos rampant/An age of distrust/Confrontations, impulsive habitat (or ‘sabbath’)” before they got right down to it, “On and on, south of heaven” — as Balch likewise digs deeper to find a nastiness of tone that is undeniable. It ends, as it invariably would, with shred given over to noise and a tease of the thuds at the end of “Postmortem” that, on 1986’s Reign in Blood, mark the transition into “Raining Blood” itself. The message seems to be: maybe next time.
Generally speaking and across a wide range of contexts, I suck at fun. Accordingly, I was a little apprehensive in taking on Slower because I felt like maybe it would be a party and I wouldn’t really be able to get my head into the right space for it. That’s not how it went, either in terms of the atmosphere of the record or my listening experience with it. I don’t know that Slower will or won’t do more — certainly no one involved lacks other projects to focus on — but I hope they do, and as a love letter to Slayer, the execution of these songs and the obvious heart and thought put into them, Slower resonates, however familiar you may or may not be with the originals.
diving headfirst into more grueling, crunching sludge.
