In the annals of scorcher jams, there are few who burn like Tia Carrera burn. The Austin, Texas, trio are 20 years removed from their debut album, The November Session, and five from their latest, 2020’s Tried and True (review here), and I suppose their 2011 fourth LP, Cosmic Priestess (review here), is as choice a place to start as any with the band, but it’s not like 2019’s Visitors/Early Purple (review here) or 2009’s Small Stone label debut, The Quintessential (review here), don’t hold up. Rest assured, Tia Carrera have been kicking ass all the while. In addition to the righteous Alexander Von Wieding cover art and the Fender Rhodes added to “Sand, Stone and Pearl” with a guest spot by Ezra Reynolds, I guess Cosmic Priestess serves as an example of the band at their best, because that seems to be what you get every time they show up.

There are four pieces on Cosmic Priestess: “Slave Cylinder” (7:34), “Sand, Stone and Pearl” (15:11), “Saturn Missile Battery” (33:41) and “A Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing” (8:00). The three-piece of guitarist Jason Morales (also bass), bassist Jamey Simms (also guitar) and drummer Erik Conn reportedly showed up, Morales hit record on a tape machine, and they fired away at making the album in completely improvised fashion. That is, they hit it and the fuzzy glories Morales nails over the Conn‘s backbeat just happened to be what came out of the moment. Even for a band who base what they do around notions of improv jamming — that is, even on the scale of heavy jams more broadly — the results are strikingly rad.

By the time they’re two minutes into “Slave Cylinder,” the listener should be able to see where this is going. The crux is immersion wrought not through effects-laced meandering (nothing against that), but barnburner soloing, malleable-on-the-spot tempos and purposeful twists when the time comes. With more of a languid pace and the aforementioned Rhodes inclusion — which makes a big difference arrangement-wise when the rest of what pervades is kept to live-recorded guitar, bass and drums — “Sand, Stone and Pearl” is a defining feature for Cosmic Priestess, perhaps even more than the half-hour-long “Saturn Missile Battery,” coming off the lay-waste shred of “Slave Cylinder” with a movement distinct in purpose as the guitar and guesting keys work off each other in complementary fashion. Tia Carrera, by virtue of the nature of their basic approach, are far more about exploration than hookmaking generally. In “Sand, Stone and Pearl,” they find a way to play to both sides.

The intention behind “Saturn Missile Battery” — can you call it intention for something improvised? Yeah, I think you can. I mean, the material has been mixed. It’s presumably been carved out of a larger batch of jams that took place at Morales‘ home studio that day or days, or however long it was ultimately, and that means that even for something as massive and sprawling as “Saturn Missile Battery”‘s 33 minutes, there’s an element of conscious presentation at work. It’s not like, oops, Tia Carrera just busted out this killer succession of movements carrying the listener from one end of the thing to the next with both trance and physicality happening in the music all the while, a rough spot or two left in both for authenticity because, really, screw it, and parts explored to a full life cycle in real-time as Conn, Simms and Morales chart the path at the same time they’re walking it.

None of this would be possible without chemistry between the band members. The way “Saturn Missile Battery” unfolds and develops over its time, with subtle changes as they go until, about 20 minutes in, when the guitars drop out as Conn holds the drums to the tension they’re creating and the whole band bring the song to and through a blowout crescendo followed by a lower-key comedown, bluesy in its strut for a while there, but still moving back toward scorch as they fade it out. I don’t know if any part of it was thought of beforehand or not, but it is the peak of immersion on Cosmic Priestess, and rightly placed for being as far out as Tia Carrera go, with the lead-in of the first two tracks letting you arrive at the precipice you’re soon to leap from.

Something like that shows that even 14 years ago, Tia Carrera were cognizant of building an album rather than just throwing together improvised sections of jams and seeing what sticks, though invariably finding ‘what sticks’ is part of that process as well, in the recording, in the mixing and in the finished product of a record itself. They come back around to cap with “A Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing” a bluesier, looser progression than “Saturn Missile Battery” but fluid and self-contained from start to end, sort of mirroring the way “Slave Cylinder” felt like they were working their way deeper toward “Sand, Stone and Pearl” and “Saturn Missile Battery,” except this time it’s “A Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing” leading the listener gradually back toward the reality waiting on the other side of its last crashout.

Tia Carrera went to Europe in 2022 and have featured at two of the last three Ripplefest Texases, and of course being based in Austin are veterans of SXSW, etc. They also did Monolith on the Mesa in 2019 and I don’t even know how many others along the way because they’ve been around for at least 22 years and have always been focused on playing live, even if they’re not out for eight months at a clip doing it. I suppose they’re something of a well-kept secret in instrumental heavy, but their commitment to improv — as opposed to a band like Earthless, who wind up with a not dissimilar style and continually emphasize the songs are written before they’re recorded — remains a distinguishing factor and makes their studio efforts all the more precious. Since at least 2019, they’ve at Curt Christenson (Dixie Witch) on bass, and I guess the bottom line is that anytime they want to go ahead and super-casual hit record and belt out another hour or so of on-an-adventure bangers, I’m here for it. Yes, that ‘deep critical insight’ — duh, band good; I like it — is how I’m ending this. It also was improvised.

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

—

Next week is part planned out, but I’ve got a long way to go before I get there. Tonight’s Halloween, so we’ve gotta go trick-or-treating with the group of parents from Girl Scouts. I think they’re bringing drinks? Like they’re gonna be doing shots while their kids run in the road. I’ll be the responsible one, stoned instead.

But that’ll suck. And tomorrow we’re going north to Connecticut for my niece’s birthday. That won’t be awful, but is never not a lot when we sleep over up there. Plus where we stay isn’t winterized, so it’s gonna get cold at night. I expect Pecan complaints to abound, basically until it’s time to go and then she doesn’t want to leave.

Records I’m buying for my niece, turning 17: Pretty Hate Machine, the self-titled Alice in Chains, I was thinking maybe some Sabbath or Graveyard’s Hisingen Blues, but I’d also like to get her a Chelsea Wolfe record or Emma Ruth Rundle, so it depends on what’s at the shop as well when I go, which I’ll do this afternoon between going to the school to give The Pecan lunch and going back to the school like an hour and a half later for the Halloween parade, which also will suck. Pretty much anything where I have to stand around and/or talk to other, way more normal, parents, is what when it applies to the kid we call ‘less preferred.’ For me it feels a lot like torture.

But it will end. And Sunday we’ll come home and have a quiet day before… wait for it… three days off from school next week. So this week was three half-days, and next week is three no-days. I am keeping my writing schedule flexible accordingly. I will do what I can when I can.

Zelda update: I have one dungeon left in Twilight Princess. I found a mod that lets me duplicate items oldschool-cheat-code style in Tears of the Kingdom and have been having fun breaking rules in that the last couple days, as well as upgrading armor, which is why I got it, so that when I put the Depths of the Kingdom mod on in the next whenever, there’s enough defense hopefully to withstand the barrage of enemies thrown at you. I’ve enjoyed Twilight Princess as well, and I’m not in a rush to be done with it, but I think between the two I prefer Wind Waker. They’re both chock full of Zelda stuff, and they have a lot of similar mechanics, but the brighter look is so much more where my head is at now. I don’t need realism. I need cartoons, I guess. That said, I was thinking I might do Ocarina of Time on the Switch 2 next, though now I also have my original N64 and that cartridge with my original game still on it, so maybe I’ll just play with that a bit instead. I’ll see when I get there. Livestream schedule coming soon.

Have a great and safe weekend. I’m gonna go shower and get ready for the rest of today. If you do the Halloween thing, be safe. If you don’t, I’m right there with you.

FRM.

The Obelisk Collective on Facebook

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

I’ve been waiting for this one, honestly. I think I did a Quarterly Review in April, or maybe it was late March, so it hasn’t been that long, but you know how it is with releases now. Every week there’s a ton coming out, everybody’s gotta pump through content to feed the algorithm. If you like sitting with records, if you like getting to know records, it’s still a pretty good era, but you have to understand you’re not going to hear everything. The Quarterly Review is more than a catchall in my mind, but it’s definitely also a place for stuff I can’t fit anywhere else. At this point there are bands who’ve been in QRs their entire lifecycle. I don’t think anybody knows that or cares other than me, but it’s true just the same.

I like doing these, though, and I like the marathon listening sessions that are part of it. Oh yeah asshole, you like writing about music? Well here’s 10 records a day for a week. Hope you slated a single in there somewhere. You’re gonna need it.

Quarterly Review #1-10:

Miss Lava, Under a Black Sun

This fifth full-length from Portuguese psychedelic-inflected heavy rockers Miss Lava sets its own backdrop with breadth of tone. The album is called Under a Black Sun and it is their fourth outing for Small Stone Records, but even the edgiest moments throughout are more colorful than that might indicate. Miss Lava excel — whether it’s the closing title-track or “Neon Gods” earlier or the 1:15 blowout “Chaos Strain” — at creating instrumental tension underneath the forward melodic float of the vocals. From seven-minute opener and longest cut (immediate points) “Dark Tomb Nebula,” the 52-minute/11-song outing takes its time saying what it wants to say, and it might take a couple listens for it to sink in accordingly, but the fuzz in “The Bends” and the tempo-pickup swing in “Blue Sky on Mars” can be landmarks on the path, and the album is worth meeting with the attention it’s due.

Miss Lava website

Small Stone Records website

—

The Cimmerian, An Age Undreamed Of…

To coincide with the righteous pummel of the eight-and-a-half-minute “Silver and Gold,” Los Angeles trio The Cimmerian infuse their first full-length with a thrashing sensibility in pieces like “Neckbreaker of the Mountain” and “Black Coast Tigris,” which are all the more brutal for the guttural vocals of bassist Nicolas Rocha. Guitarist David Gein crushes and slashes enough for “Mournblade” to earn its title, and the extremity is retained even in the slowdown of “Deathstalker” later on, as Gein, Rocha and drummer David Morales seem to hold another level of viciousness in reserve for 10-minute finale “Monarch.” There’s some extrapolation from High on Fire here in the basic math of the band’s makeup, but The Cimmerian push more into thrash as a genre, and come across as more metal in their assault. There’s growing to do, and streamlining the songs may become part of that process, but as an awaited debut album, An Age Undreamed Of… heralds its own devastation and that to follow.

The Cimmerian on Bandcamp

Black Voodoo Records website

—

Nightstalker, Return From the Point of No Return

Athenian heavy rock institution Nightstalker return with their eighth full-length in a 35-plus-year career as led by frontman Argyris “Argy” Galiatsatos, who remains a pivotal presence in the songs. There are eight of those across the down-to-business 38-minute long-player, which opens raucous with “Dust” but settles into a psychedelic meander on “Heavy Trippin'” before “Uncut” finds a catchy space somewhere in the middle, high-energy but not a shove, and welcoming all comers. The title-track follows and takes a noisier tack instrumentally and vocally in its second half, but is a four-minute kick-in-the-pants nonetheless, so one would not accuse it of being an awkward fit here, even as the subsequent “Shipwrecked Powder Monkey” (which I’m assuming starts side B) moves through quiet/loud trades toward a fuzzy surge, “Shallow Grave” basks in melancholy, “Falling Inside” follows the bassline into a shredder of a guitar solo and seven-minute closer “Flying Mode” dares a bit of funk to round out. There’s a reason Nightstalker have stood the test of time. It’s the songs. Yes, still.

Nightstalker website

Heavy Psych Sounds website

—

Whitehovse, The Mighty One

Indonesian doom rollers Whitehovse released the title-track of their first, self-released full-length, The Mighty One, as a standalone single in 2020, and I don’t know that all the songs have been around that long, but every chug in “Falling Crown” sounds like it’s there for a reason and I’m not inclined to argue. Bookended by the nod of “Endless Sorrow” and the blowout, harsh-in-the-cymbals bounce of “Vile Triumphant,” the in-betweens on the eight-track/35-minute LP are light on nonsense and heavy on just about everything else as “Falling Crown” is indicative of the five-piece’s riffy foundations. They declare themselves Sabbathian early, but “Silence of the Soul” has more of a desert bounce transposed onto their own echoing palette and against the wall reminds a bit of the slower moments in whatever kind of metal it is Solace play. Their story isn’t fully written yet, but they put key aspects in place with this material.

Whitehovse on Bandcamp

Whitehovse on Instagram

—

Hashishian, Sand Dragon

I don’t mean this to be an insult, but if you told me Hashishian‘s Sand Dragon was AI, I’d probably believe you. The band, from parts unknown, comprised of anonymous huffer pilgrims, are so steeped in the worship of Sleep, weed, riffs, and such, that the throatsinging vocals are a fit. Sand Dragon is meditative in its way, but it’s more stoned, and that’s the whole idea. What do you do with something that is pure worship? There is an original edge to their approach, though “Sand Dragon” itself is pretty dead-on Om, but if you’re a genre head, you know to which land “Follow the Riff” is going before its meganodder of a riff even departs. But I don’t think you take on Sand Dragon if you’re looking for originality-on-purpose. I think you take it on if you want to join them in their worship, and yeah, if you know what you’re getting going in, the naked, sans-pretense-otherwise homage happening throughout, the riff of “Meggido” just might make you a convert. Hail Cisneros.

Hashishian on Bandcamp

Hashishian on Instagram

—

Scott Hepple and the Sun Band, English Mustard

Is garage rock inherently retro? Is there a way for a sound that was ‘mod’ when mod was mod to be the sound of the great forgetful now? I don’t know, but the UK’s Scott Hepple and the Sun Band take classic elements from garage, grunge, and heavier rock, and it’s hard to argue with the results of their formula in pieces like “Velvet Divorce” or the sweet acoustic strum of “Blue Door Jimmy,” the boogie of “Lead on Sonny Brown” and “Sweet Sugar High” and the more brash fuzz of “Fake a Smile,” as the 16-song long-player packs its 41-minute stretch tight enough that even the gag interlude “A Brief Advertisement” doesn’t come through as any more in a hurry than the rest of the proceedings. And they are in a hurry. Because they’re young and such is the way of young people. But that’s how it should be, and so, so are Scott Hepple and the Sun Band as they prove you can have ‘brash’ as a defining personality feature without needing to make yourself sound like a monster.

Scott Hepple and the Sun Band on Bandcamp

Rise Above Records website

—

Blind Mess, The Storm Within

Immediacy is the order of the moment on Blind Mess‘ six-song The Storm Within EP, as the hit-hard trio from Munich delve into burl on “The Bell” before the throw-elbows punkthrash of “On the Edge” and the angular “Mirror of My Soul” feels all the more leveled out for the shouts that top it. They’re not without atmosphere, even before the standalone guitar introduces the first 30 seconds of “The Hemlock Cup,” but the idea is for the songs to hit you direct and they do. “The Hemlock Cup” has a burner of a solo later on, and “Sick Society” has its foundation in rock but still sounds like it listened to Megadeth in the 1990s (who among us.) before the shorter closer “Bleeding Hearts” renews the shove of “On the Edge.” It’s a quick 24 minutes and they make it feel quicker with pacing, but it’s still well enough time for the band to showcase a refined attack.

Blind Mess website

Blind Mess on Bandcamp

—

Vordermann, Feeding on Flowers/

Striking a progressive first impression around material still geared for an impact despite all the turns, UK five-piece Vordermann bring elements of alternative rock into the hooks of “Delirium Tremors,” one of the three songs included on their debut EP, the intentionally-slashed Feeding on Flowers/. Intertwining vocals in a quiet stretch, weirdo shifts, post-rock drift and weighted drums beneath, melodies providing the payoff where opener “Cloudpiercer” is more about the heft, and the seven-minute “Saint Banger (The Lars Ulrich Torrent Finder General Drum Circle Experience)” moving through a long, soft-guitar intro — there’s no drum circle; there are samples — before a heavier nod arrives, ebbing and flowing until the shouted vocals arrive late to put it over the top. Look out for these guys. They give a killer showing here and in no way sound like this is the limit for where they want to take their sound. One hopes for more to come. Maybe we can find out what’s on the other side of that slash in the title.

Vordermann on Bandcamp

Vordermann on Instagram

—

Aerolith, II

When Austrian cosmic-rocking instrumentalists — space rock, some My Sleeping Karma-esque keys, almost certainly jam-based, but with fluidity as a compositional priority either way — Aerolith sent their second album, II, in for review, I’ll admit that I didn’t know it came out late in 2017. Going on eight years ago. If you’re wondering, I think that’s the oldest release ever to feature in a Quarterly Review — the band’s latest work, Megalorama Part II, was released in 2023 — which I try to keep at least vaguely current. I don’t know why the 2017 record was sent, but they make it easy to dig the conversation happening between the keys and guitar throughout, and the mellow-heavy mindset of “Rain Walk” and “Aufschub,” that payoff in closer “Bug Nebula,” seems to still inform their sound on the newer offerings as well. I’m not about to start retconning the entire history of the underground in a Quarterly Review, so don’t send me all your old records, but I’m glad to have had the introduction to this band regardless.

Aerolith website

Aerolith on Bandcamp

—

Occult Stereo, A Temporary Utopia

Experimentalism is crucial on this apparently-years-in-the-making second full-length from Athens-based mostly-solo outfit Occult Stereo, driven by self-recording multi-instrumentalist/vocalist/programmer Alex Eliopoulos, who blends electronic and organic instrumentation — the bedroom industrial of “In Between Lines” and “Kiss My Mask,” the acoustics of “A Glow” and “Power,” the variable drones of the otherwise anthemic “New Drip” and “Burn the Manifesto,” the fuzz ultranod of “Same Life Different Face” and the avant-garage “Not Mysterious”; it is a record that sets its own context and goes — to a readily divergent affect, melding styles across genres with expressive weirdness. At 11 songs and 64 minutes, it is a not insignificant undertaking, and surely A Temporary Utopia is not without its challenging aspects, but Eliopoulos isn’t on his own here — there are even guest vocals on “Power” — and as deep as Occult Stereo plunge, the spaces occupied are individual and fascinating.

Occult Stereo website

Occult Stereo on Bandcamp

—

It’s been 11 years since Salt Lake City melodic heavy rockers Dwellers released their second album, 2014’s Pagan Fruit (review here, discussed here) as the follow-up to their 2011 debut, Good Morning Harakiri (review here, vinyl review here). Led by guitarist/vocalist Joey Toscano (here also synth and Rhodes piano), the band’s bluesy, psychedelic sound was a departure from the desert-hued cosmos-bound charge of Toscano‘s prior band, Iota, with a focused songwriting process and regular delves into the ethereal around it.

Corrupt Translation Machine — i.e., a human trying to capture objectivity in a subjective reality is doomed to fail; this is also why authenticity is a myth and gods aren’t real — is the unexpected third album from Dwellers, arriving through Small Stone Records in time for the label’s 30th anniversary with a reconstructed band around Toscano, operating for the first time as a four-piece and welcoming Oz “Inglorious” Yosri (Iota, Bird Eater) on bass, Kellii Scott (Failure) on drums and Chase Cluff on synth and Rhodes. Produced by Toscano with tracking done in Utah and California, the nine-song/51-minute outing offers a debut’s ambitions in laying out a distinctive sound for Dwellers that’s both inherited from and unlike anything they’ve done before.

Now, I called Corrupt Translation Machine a surprise above, and it’s true — until a few months ago, nobody knew it was coming. Toscano wasn’t updating social media as every chord progression or vocal arrangement was hammered out, as the things-are-different-now synth flourished into opening cut “Headlines” or the later “The Sermon” found that riff in the writing process. The band’s been gone. However — and it’s a big however — in 2024, Iota offered up Pentasomnia (review here) as their own back-after-more-than-a-decade return.

In fact, in Iota‘s case, it had been even longer: 16 years since their 2008 debut, Tales (discussed here, discussed here), which I’ll gladly posit among the best records Small Stone has put out in its three decades. Given the challenge of living up to Tales, Iota revealed a style that had grown into adopting many of the bluesy, contemplative elements of Dwellers‘ Pagan Fruit and Good Morning Harakiri, blurring the lines between the two projects. If it was only going to be Iota, Toscano wouldn’t have to answer the question, but in bringing Dwellers back as their own band requires some measure of differentiation. This leads to asking, if Iota now sounds like Iota does, what does Dwellers sound like?

Understand this: I don’t think Joey Toscano — guitar in hand and heart on sleeve as he reveals what would seem to be the emotional crux of much of the album early in centerpiece “Inside Infinity” with the lines, “Falling/I am falling/In love with a girl/Who is dying” — intentionally sat down with this material and said, “okay, now I need to make it sound different from Iota.” To listen to Corrupt Translation Machine, however, is to be given a second glimpse at the kind of evolution Toscano‘s band undertook.

If Dwellers had put out another two or three albums between 2014 and 2025, I’d probably be sitting here telling you Corrupt Translation Machine is the latest forward step in an ongoing incremental growth on the part of the band. That they’d become yet more progressive-rock-leaning, that the synth and Rhodes continued to play a bigger role along with the foundation in the grungey melodies of Toscano‘s vocals, able to conjure a sense of float in the chorus for “The Beast” and croon regretfully in first half of the penultimate 11-minute sweeper “Marigold (Heart of Stone),” “Marigold/marigold/I thought you could learn to love me/Sadly, that just ain’t your thing.” But that context and those two or three albums between Pagan Fruit and Corrupt Translation Machine don’t exist.

Instead, for those who caught onto Dwellers in the ’10s, Corrupt Translation Machine is something of a jump. For those who didn’t know the band before and picked up on Iota‘s return last year, that Toscano succeeds so much in finding a new path forward for Dwellers will no doubt be all the more satisfying. The synth is part of it, as “Headlines” and “Inside Infinity” and the sci-fi sounds building out the psychedelic-drone of closer “Made (Psych Ward Mix),” demonstrate, but Corrupt Translation Machine is also outwardly heavier than Dwellers have been before.

This is held back from the succession of three sub-five-minute rockers at the front, “Headlines,” “Spiral Vision” and the suitably bluesier “Old Ways,” but “The Beast” reveals a bigger low-end tonality, and both “The Maze” and “The Sermon” feel informed by European dark-prog in the blend of creeping lead guitar and roiling lower-frequency heft. Coupled with Toscano‘s capability to handle both sides of the Cantrell/Staley-type harmony on “Spiral Vision,” the proggier, somewhat metallic expanses of “Inside Infinity” and the resolution of “Marigold (Heart of Stone),” and Dwellers circa ’25 have no issue distinguishing themselves from either the band’s past or Toscano‘s other ongoing project.

And as much as the sound of Corrupt Translation Machine is on its own wavelength, the overarching, unifying factor between “Headlines” and “The Maze,” “Spiral Vision” and “Made (Psych Ward Mix)” is in the emotionality portrayed through the songs and performances. Even “Made (Psych Ward Mix),” with its Rhodes-chime sounds and ultra-atmospheric setting, retains a core of human expression, and as severe as “The Beast” might feel in the turns and rearing-backs of its first half, let alone the chug it unfurls from there, the emotive purpose is maintained, kept as a focal point within the breadth of the material.

That lets a song like “Marigold (Heart of Stone)” feel intimate while also being an 11-minute heavyprog epic, a crescendo for both the audio and theme of the album, and unrepentantly aware of itself in the process. If all perspective, all ‘translation’ in the sense of the album’s title, is flawed, then what humans are left with is the sometimes discomfiting goo of our own big feelings as the basis of reality. It’s a more complex vision of existence than ‘there’s one world and we’re living in it,’ but Dwellers‘ argument for intricacy takes place in multiple dimensions.

Dwellers, Corrupt Translation Machine (2025)

Dwellers on Bandcamp

Dwellers on Facebook

Small Stone Records website

Small Stone Records on Bandcamp

Small Stone Records on Instagram

Small Stone Records on Facebook

I wrote the bio that appears below for Dwellers‘ first album in 11 years, Corrupt Translation Machine — starts at “Dwellers’…,” ends at my name — so you’ll pardon me if I don’t pretend to have not heard it. If you caught the righteous return of guitarist/vocalist Joey Toscano‘s other band, Iota, last year, and if you heard the two records Dwellers put out during their initial post-Iota run, in 2012 and 2014, you’ll probably have high expectations going into this third LP.

They’ll be met, if perhaps not in the way one anticipates. Corrupt Translation Machine‘s first single is “The Sermon,” which is a heavy culmination that comes late in the record, but so much more of the material is about the texture and the atmosphere being molded through the songwriting, the soulful melodies, and the emotional expression. The 11-minute finale shows a range Dwellers have never had before, and the entire journey of a record sets the band on a path distinct from Iota while still brimming with progressive construction.

Release date just got posted as May 23. Here’s the info (mostly the aforementioned bio) as hoisted from Bandcamp:

Dwellers’ story has always been one of diversion and redirection. Begun in Salt Lake City by guitarist/vocalist Joey Toscano – also of Iota – the band’s 2012 debut, Good Morning Harakiri, and its 2014 follow-up, Pagan Fruit, helped establish a distinct creative voice in psychedelia and Americana-tinged blues rock, expressive and vulnerable in ways that heavy rock and roll is rarely willing to be.

Corrupt Translation Machine, which brings bassist Oz Inglorious (Iota, ex-Bird Eater), drummer Kellii Scott (Failure) and pianist/synthesist Chase Cluff (Last) to a completely revamped four-piece lineup, is both a reinvention and continuation of Dwellers’ purpose. The album lays claim to the heaviest sounds Dwellers have yet produced, and meets that head on with poppish fluidity and melodicism as the album sets out with “Headlines,” only to take greater risks later. Love and the potential of its loss meet with expansive, sometimes cinematic texturing, and just as Toscano led Iota into a career-defining reignition with 2024’s comeback LP, Pentasomnia, so too do Dwellers declare themselves with Corrupt Translation Machine.

“In the context of the album, the Corrupt Translation Machine is the human being,” reveals Toscano. “The songs on this album seem to be mostly about impermanence, addiction, loss, love, and the intangibility of perception. I say ‘seem to’ because there was no contrived concept for the album to be one thing or another, and when I listen to it, I have a strong feeling that I’m interpreting it just the same as when I’m listening to someone else’s songs. I could tell you exactly what each song is about, but that would go against the title of the album.”

The evocative tapestry of Dwellers’ sound has evolved in craft, intention and performance. It’s not just about having new people on board or about not sounding like Iota. Corrupt Translation Machine posits Dwellers as a singular entity as it engages classic progressivism and breadth in the 11-minute “Marigold (Heart of Stone)” or shifts into the outright tonal crush of “The Beast” or the weighted push of “The Maze.” No one song is just one thing, however, and as Dwellers bring together ideas from across a range of styles from space rock to dirt-coated grunge, the listening experience becomes less about genre and more about soul.

In this way, and despite the title, Corrupt Translation Machine could hardly communicate more clearly what and who Dwellers are as a band. And more, it speaks to the greater ongoing thread of their progression, renewed after 11 years and somehow still right on time. – JJ Koczan

Tracklisting:
Side A:
1. Headlines – 04:03
2. Spiral Vision – 04:21
3. Old Ways – 04:33
4. The Beast – 05:41
5. The Maze – 04:26
Side B:
6. Inside Infinity – 05:21
7. The Sermon – 05:04
8. Marigold (Heart of Stone) – 11:05

All songs written, arranged and produced by Joey Toscano
Drums tracked at Akira Audio by Gabe Van Benschoten, Calabasas, CA.
Everything else recorded by Mike Sasitch at Man Vs. Music, Salt Lake City, UT.
Mixed by Eric Hoegemyer at Tree Laboratory, Brooklyn, NY.
Mastered by Chris Goosman at Baseline Audio Labs, Ann Arbor, MI.
Artwork by Dani Joy @d_joy_art
Layout by Alexander von Wieding, zeichentier.com
Published by Small Stone Records (ASCAP).

Dwellers are:
Joey Toscano: guitars, vocals, synth, rhodes piano
Oz Inglorious: bass
Kellii Scott: drums
Chase Cluff: synthesizers, rhodes piano

https://www.facebook.com/dwellersband
https://dwellers.bandcamp.com/

http://www.smallstone.com
http://www.facebook.com/smallstonerecords
http://www.instagram.com/smallstonerecords
https://smallstone.bandcamp.com/

Dwellers, Corrupt Translation Machine (2025)

Last heard from with 2021’s DeLores Session (review here), Portuguese heavy rockers Miss Lava today announce the advent of their fifth full-length, Under a Black Sun, also their third for Small Stone Records. To go along with the album announcement, the Lisboa, Portugal, four-piece are streaming the title track which also doubles as the record’s closer, which gives a first impression as much about texture as heft, working up from an initial strum and melodic vocal to a fully immersive, hooky push, to cap the record.

What precedes the title-track across the 52-minute expanse varies, and for a band who are no strangers to dynamics, it should be no surprise that different songs go different places. Some are more direct, some more sprawling like “Dark Tomb Nebula” at the outset or attitude-laced like “I Drown,” but the point is the first single is more of a lead-in than total representation for the work it heralds. More to come ahead of the April 25 release, which the band will celebrate by supporting Graveyard in Portugal the next night.

The PR wire has initial details:

MISS LAVA – Under a Black Sun out April 25 on Small Stone

Like distant moons spitting fire, Miss Lava forged their new album “Under a Black Sun”. Carrying a darker and heavier emotional weight than their previous outings, the band’s fifth album is set to be released through Small Stone Records in the beginning of 2025.

“It’s a pretty intense record. I guess our life experiences over the past years have made us delve into a darker matter. We explored new territories and had a blast creating this album.” says singer Johnny Lee.

The release of “Under a Black Sun” will celebrate the band’s longevity, marking their 20th anniversary. A sonic fire with many cosmic swirls that urges to be unleashed live.

“It has been a hell of a ride since we started rehearsing in a small studio in Lisbon back in 2005. Having this record come out 20 years later with a partner like Small Stone is the best thing we could wish for. Now we just need to get out there and play these songs live everywhere we can!” confirms guitarist K. Raffah.

This mystical rite of creation was the first record with drummer Pedro Gonçalves, bringing a heavier vibe to the band. It was taped once again with Miguel “Veg” Marques, who handled the band’s previous record “Doom Machine”.

“Under a Black Sun” is the successor to the praised “Doom Machine” (2021), “Dominant Rush EP” (2017), “Sonic Debris” (2016), “Red Supergiant” (2013), and “Blues for the Dangerous Miles” (2009) and a limited edition self-titled blood red vinyl EP (2008).

Over the years, the band has played live in clubs and festivals in the UK, Spain, Germany and of course Portugal. Miss Lava Lava even made a one-off appearance at the legendary Whisky a Go-Go in Los Angeles. The band has shared the stage with the likes of Queens of the Stone Age, Slash, Graveyard, Ufommammut, Greenleaf, Kyuss Lives!, Fu Manchu, Valient Thorr, Entombed, Truckfighters and many more.

Tracklisting:
1. Dark Tomb Nebula
2. Neon Gods
3. Evil Eye of a Witch
4. Chaos Strain
5. Woe Warrior
6. The Bends
7. Fear in Overdrive
8. I Drown
9. Blue Sky on Mars
10. Elara
11. Under a Black Sun

Keys on “Blue Sky on Mars”, “Dark Tomb Nebula”, “Elara”,
“Evil Eye of the Witch” and “Woe Warrior” by Miguel “Veg” Marques.
Vocals on “Elara” by Alexandra Quintas “Bebé”.

Produced by Miss Lava and Miguel “Veg” Marques.
Recorded and engineered by Miguel “Veg” Marques at Generator Music Studios, Magoito, Sintra, between April and May 2024.

Alexandra’s vocals on “Elara” recorded by Ricardo Quintas at QMusic Studio in May 2024.

Mixed by Steve Lehane at Rustbelt Studios, Detroit, MI.
Mastered by Chris Goosman at Baseline Audio Labs – Ann Arbor, MI.
Design and Artwork by João Filipe.
Photography by Manuel Portugal.

Miss Lava is:
Johnny Lee: vocals
K. Raffah: guitars
P. Gonçalves: drums
Ricardo Ferreira: bass

https://www.facebook.com/MissLavaOfficial/
http://www.instagram.com/miss.lava/
https://misslava.bandcamp.com/
http://misslava.com/

Miss Lava, Under a Black Sun (2025)

This was a band that could, and regularly did, put on a hell of a show. Didn’t matter that you were in The Saint or the Brighton at 10PM on some Wednesday or other in 2003 — Lord Sterling were about to rip a hole in the cosmos. The band were based in Long Branch and had a connection to Monster Magnet through bassist Jim Baglino, who also held down low end for the Garden State heavy forerunners at the time, but were their own thing through and through. Frontman Robert Ryan, shouting and madcap in “This Time it’s for Real” or “Tough Times for the Troubadours” but mellow and Floydian in the repetitions of “Thread Will Be Torn” from the band’s third and final LP, 2004’s Today’s Song for Tomorrow, defined no small part of their onstage persona, but guitarist Mike Schweigert (also Moog), Baglino (also also Moog) and drummer Jason Silverio explored psychedelic textures and classic blowout heavy rock in a way that was prescient of a generation of spacey stylizations and managed to do so from a foundation of influence in hardcore and post-hardcore. So it’s been over 20 years and I still don’t know where the organ in “Password” or the ultra-Hawkwindian push of “Hidden Flame” — which feels prescient of Ecstatic Vision to such a degree that I’d advocate the Philly band covering the song because (1:) it’s good and (2:) they could make it their own without it being too obvious — come from, but I do know that Lord Sterling delivered range without pretense, were not afraid of scope, and never harnessed that to the sacrifice of raw energy.

Lord Sterling had two records before Today’s Song for Tomorrow, which rivals Nebula in its out-the-airlock spacey vibe and caps with an of-its-era take on Pink Floyd‘s “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun,” which feels at half a solar system’s remove from the barroom rock of “Poison Lips” or the punk it seems to lead toward in the second half of “Evaporate” and “Tough Times for the Troubadours” before the title-track is over everything in a way that feels very Sonic Youth but that could just be the East Coast talking. Along the way, whether it’s the Stooges garage sway into the noisy finish of “Poison Lips” or “Hidden Flame” with Ryan‘s sitar setting the central rhythm, the punking-up of Monster Magnet that coincides with the title line being shouted into the cacophony, the pointedly mellow twist that “Thread Will Be Torn” offers — if we’re talking prescience and “Hidden Flame” anticipates Ecstatic Vision, I would cite “Thread Will Be Torn” as a heads up on Tau and the Drones of Praise for some of its cross-source worldly spirit and the fuzzy drift that winds through its subdued flow, but if you want to say the band called it on neo-psych becoming a thing more generally, I wouldn’t argue — they answer impulses toward structure and freakout in kind. Additional drumming by Keith Ackerman (The Atomic Bitchwax, ex-Solace) and Hammond, piano and strings from Shane M. Green helped flesh out arrangements that already demonstrated the flexibility to withstand them.

I guess maybe Lord Sterling were subject to the perils of being a band somewhat between different styles. New York at the time had a pretty clear divide between who was playing hipster classic garage indie and who wasn’t. Lord Sterling — certainly in either of their first two records, 1997’s Your Ghost Will Walk or the more arc-defining 2002 follow-up, Weapon of Truth, which came out on the Tee Pee-adjacent Rubric Records, run (I believe) by at least some of the crew behind Manhattan’s the Knitting Factory when that was a thing — could veer between the brash and the aggressive, and they weren’t shy about either when they got there. I saw them a bunch during this period and won’t feign impartiality. But of Today’s Song for Tomorrow‘s tracks, cuts like “Pivotal Plane,” “This Time it’s for Real” and “Evaporate” stand out from remembering the band bringing them to life on stage. Since it’s been more than two decades, that feels notable, even if it has little to do with how someone listening for the first time will hear them.

If you are new to Lord Sterling though — if, say, you’re not from New Jersey, which is enough in itself to make you weird where I come from, which is New Jersey — as you take on Today’s Song for Tomorrow there are a couple things to keep in mind. One, this record came out 21 years ago. I’m not saying it’s sounds cutting edge, but if “Password” showed up as a single in my inbox I certainly wouldn’t call it dated. Two, no matter where they go, it’s punk-based. They’re ’90s hardcore kids. That’s true of the tantric psych mediation of “Set the Controls for the Heart of the Sun,” and the grungey shrugoff in “Today’s Song for Tomorrow” itself, and the charged psychedelic rock wrought by “Hidden Flame.” Everywhere Lord Sterling go, they depart from the same place. That will help unite the songs in your mind, but Ryan‘s vocals — like a not-shitty Jim Morrison — play a role there too, wanting nothing for depth or expressive force in mood.

I don’t know what these guys are up to. Ryan, who I think had the nickname Bing (?), was tattooing. Like 15 years ago, I saw Schweigert in his more aggro next band, The Ominous Order of Filthy Mongrels, but I’m not sure if anything ever came of that or what, because life happens and so on. The good news is this record’s still out there. I know CDs of all three Lord Sterling full-lengths still exist, certainly the latter two, but in a time when turn-of-the-century heavy is getting another look, their take feels like it’s communing with a whole bunch of stuff that’s come out since while remaining firm in its own perspective. Maybe recent events have me feeling nostalgic for this era of NJ heavy. Brighton Bar, and such. That’s fine. You could do a lot worse than to listen to something because you like it.

Thanks for reading.

—

It snowed here last Sunday night. There was no school Monday, which was also the presidential inauguration, because of MLK Day. We went sledding with two other families from The Pecan’s first grade class, folks we know from school pickup and being around the school generally, blah blah. Normal suburban bourgeois shit. You get the picture.

We were there for maybe an hour and got some good sledding in before The Pecan took a borrowed sled face-first into a metal fencepole, opening a gash in her forehead wide enough that her skull could be seen by anyone who managed to bring themselves to look. I ran down the hill and picked her up — no loss of consciousness or responsiveness; we’ve done head trauma in the past, remember; you look immediately for these things — and her face was of course covered in blood because it’s a headwound. There were a bunch of families on the sledding hill behind the high school, and it turned out that included two moms who were RNs. Fucking women, man. Dudes are clueless. Do you know how wrecked society would be if men actually ran it? I mean, how wrecked it is anyway?

Anyhow, these moms were great and got my kid in a useful position and started to clean her up, ask her questions, tell me what to do, while we waited for the ambulance to come. The cop came first, obviously. Not like he was doing anything. Another dumb boy to get in the way of Competent Moms sorting shit out. Mom #2 had a roll of paper towels, for crying out loud. Officer Mehoff could never hope to compete with that.

The EMT worker in the back of the ambulance, it turned out, liked Zelda, so we chatted about Echoes of Wisdom on the way to the emergency room, which was good for keeping The Pecan (and me, in the interest of honesty), calm. Once we saw the cleaned up wound — featuring, again, her actual fucking skull — we knew the tenor of the day had changed. The Patient Mrs. showed up at the ER, having run home to grab clothes and such (my pants were still wet from sitting on the ground, kid was covered in blood, and so on) and we sat for about an hour and waited in the pediatric ER. A nurse had come through and stuck some gauze in the hole in her forehead, wrapped it up, and she watched Zelda fan-theory YouTube videos on my phone while we waited. The Patient Mrs. read on her iPad. I nodded off in the chair.

A couple rounds of talking to the doctor and like two earth hours later, we ended up driving east on Rt. 80 — The Patient Mrs. drove there, I drove home; a little unnerving being in the car with a major open wound on board — to the office of every plastic surgeon you’ve ever seen in a movie, who would finally close her up and send us on our way for ice cream, confident the dent in her face wasn’t permanent and that, indeed, all would be well by his next teetime, surely within 24 hours. Place was a riot, unless you thought of it as an example of the horrors that stem from mixing capital and medicine. But what fun is that? Or use?

To that end, it was almost fortunate that my seven-year-old daughter broke open her face early in the sunny afternoon, because it offered an excellent chance to not watch, or listen to, or read about, the inauguration. Something better to focus on? Much appreciated, even if the ‘something’ in question is a different kind of terrible.

But she’s doing well, is this Pecan. Both the ER doctor and the plastic surgeon assured The Patient Mrs. and I of her toughness, both saying “I don’t always say this, but…” and then I guess telling us she should go try out for Jackass: TNG or something. Yeah, she’s tough. I know. Try sharing a house.

I don’t know how much of a scar she’ll have. When I was six, I cut my leg open and, like her, it was deep enough to need stitches inside (for muscle) and outside (for the fleshy flesh). I have a six-inch scar on the inside of my right thigh that’s been there calling me stupid for basically my entire life. I’d prefer she have neither the scar nor the self-blame.

We’ve been gooping her head with Neosporin every couple hours, and she’s got antibiotics that are disgusting but that she’s taking anyway, because tough, and “limiting her activity” basically just means The Patient Mrs. and I get stressed out when she runs across the living room furniture, so apart from that — because usually we don’t care — it’s business as usual. She’ll heal up and we’ll be onto the next thing before you know it. What I wonder is whether she’ll remember this long-term. She doesn’t at this point remember falling down the basement stairs and cracking her skull in March 2021 — and fair enough, she was three — but that was a worse trauma than this. For everybody. It’s funny to think this might end up as some defining moment in her life and both her mother and I are like, “Meh, we’ve seen worse. Suck it up, stitchy!”

In any case, if there’s a parenting decision, really any kind of decision about any kind of thing, I’m sure I’m fucking it up. Turns out that the magic someday-I’ll-be-a-grown-up-with-my-shit-together day that I always dreamed was on the horizon is in fact a myth perpetuated to sell hair growth formula and pricey shirts. I’m 43 years old, and given my family history, lifestyle and demographics, there’s just about no feasible way my life isn’t more than halfway over. Some part of me is always going to be that same kid who sat on a glass fishbowl and sliced a hole in his leg big enough to stick your arm through.

My father, hateful and disdainful though he was, applied so much pressure on my bleeding-out leg that I had bruises for weeks after. The doctor said he saved my life, and I believe he did. We didn’t even like each other, ever, and he was for sure no paragon of having his shit together, but that was a thing he did for me. I could barely make it up the sledding hill with my kid without falling down. What a wreck.

And it’s sad, and I know it’s sad, but there’s also a certain kind of freedom in letting go of the expectation that it’s ever going to get better. That there will come a point at which it will all click and I’ll always know where my phone is, or I’ll finally be caught up on vacuuming, or I’ll get in shape in some kind of “once and for all” permanent way that doesn’t even exist in the first place.

I’m not that guy. I never could be. Maybe I’m a loser. Fine. I look around at who’s winning these days and I think maybe I’m better off not.

Thanks for reading and have a great and safe weekend. I’m back Monday with more and I’m in Vegas next week to cover Planet Desert Rock Weekend, which will be a hoot. Much appreciated if you keep up.

FRM.

The Obelisk Collective on Facebook

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

 

Oh hi, I didn’t see you there. Me? Oh, you know. Nothing much. Staring off a cliffside about to jump headfirst into a pool of 100 records. The usual.

I’m pretty sure this is the second time this year that a single Quarterly Review has needed to be two weeks long. It’s been a busy year, granted, but still. I keep waiting for the tide to ebb, but it hasn’t really at all. Older bands keep going, or a lot of them do, anyhow — or they come back — and new bands come up. But for all the war, famine, plague and strife and crisis and such, it’s a golden age.

But hey, don’t let me keep you. I’ve apparently been doing QRs since 2013, and I remember trying to find a way to squeeze together similar roundups before it. I have no insight to add about that, it’s just something I dug back to find out the other day and was surprised because 11 years of this kind of thing is a really long gosh darn time.

On that note, let’s go.

Quarterly Review #1-10:

—

Agusa, Noir

The included bits of Swedish dialogue from the short film for which Agusa‘s Noir was written to serve as a soundtrack would probably ground the proceedings some if I spoke Swedish, admittedly. As it is, those voices become part of the dream world the Malmö-based otherwise-instrumentalist adventurers conjure across 15 at times wildly divergent pieces. In arrangement and resultant mood, from the ’70s piano sentimentality of “Ljusglimtar” to the darker church organ and flute workings of “Stad i mörker,” which is reprised as a dirge at the end, the tracks are evocative across a swath of atmospheres, and it’s not all drones or background noise. They get their rock in, and if you stick around for “Kalkbrottets hemlighet,” you get to have the extra pleasure of hearing the guitar eat the rest of the song. You could say that’s not a thing you care about hearing but I know it’d be a lie, so don’t bother. If you’ve hesitated to take on Agusa in the past because sometimes generally-longform instrumental progressive psychedelic heavy rock can be a lot when you’re trying to get to know it, consider Noir‘s shorter inclusions a decent entry point to the band. Each one is like a brief snippet serving as another demonstration of the kind of immersion they can bring to what they play.

Agusa on Facebook

Kommun 2 website

—

Octoploid, Beyond the Aeons

With an assembled cast of singers that includes Mikko Kotamäki (Swallow the Sun), his Amorphis bandmates Tomi Koivusaari and Tomi Joutsen, Petri Eskelinen of Rapture, and Barren Earth bandmate Jón Aldará, and guests on lead guitar and a drummer from the underappreciated Mannhai, and Barren Earth‘s keyboardist sitting in for good measure, bassist Olli Pekka-Laine harnesses a spectacularly Finnish take on proggy death-psych metal for Octoploid‘s first long-player, Beyond the Aeons. The songs feel extrapolated from Amorphis circa Elegy, putting guttural vocals to folk inspired guitar twists and prog-rock grooves, but aren’t trying to be that at all, and as ferocious as it gets, there’s always some brighter element happening, something cosmic or folkish or on the title-track both, and Octoploid feels like an expression of creative freedom based on a vision of a kind of music Pekka-Laine wanted to hear. I want to hear it too.

Octoploid on Facebook

Reigning Phoenix Music website

—

The Obscure River Experiment, The Ore

The Obscure River Experiment, as a group collected together for the live performance from which The Ore has been culled, may or may not be a band. It is comprised of players from the sphere of Psychedelic Source Records, and so as members of River Flows Reverse, Obscure Supersession Collective, Los Tayos and others collaborate here in these four periodically scorching jams — looking at you, middle of “Soul’s Shiver Pt. 2” — it could be something that’ll happen again next week or next never. Not knowing is part of the fun, because as far out as something like The Obscure River Experiment might and in fact does go, there’s chemistry enough between all of these players to hold it together. “Soul Shiver Pt. 1” wakes up and introduces the band, “Pt. 2” blows it out for a while, “I See Horses” gets funky and then blows it out, and “The Moon in Flesh and Bone” feels immediately ceremonial with its sustained organ notes, but becomes a cosmic boogie ripper, complete with a welcome return of vocals. Was it all made up on the spot? Was it all a dream? Maybe both?

Psychedelic Source Records on Spotify

Psychedelic Source Records on Bandcamp

—

Shun, Dismantle

Way underhyped South Carolinian progressive heavy rockers Shun arrive at the sound of their second LP, Dismantle, able to conjure elements of The Cure and Katatonia alongside Cave In-style punk-born groove, but in Shun‘s case, the underlying foundation is noise rock, so when “Aviator” opens up to its hook or “NRNS” is suddenly careening pummel or “Drawing Names” half-times the drums to get bigger behind the forward/obvious-focal-point vocal melodies of Matt Whitehead (ex-Throttlerod), there’s reach and impact working in conjunction with a thoughtful songwriting process pushed forward from where on their 2021 self-titled debut (review here) but that still seems to be actively working to engage the listener. That’s not a complaint, mind you, especially since Dismantle succeeds to vividly in doing so, and continues to offer nuance and twists on the plot right up to the willful slog ending with (most of) “Interstellar.”

Shun on Facebook

Small Stone Records website

—

No Man’s Valley, Chrononaut Cocktail Bar/Flight of the Sloths

Whether it’s the brooding Nick Cave-style cabaret minimalism of “Creepoid Blues,” the ’60s psych of “Love” or the lush progressivism that emerges in “Seeing Things,” the hook of “Shapeshifter” or “Orange Juice” coming in with shaker at the end to keep things from finishing too melancholy, the first half of No Man’s Valley‘s Chrononaut Cocktail Bar/Flight of the Sloths still can only account for part of the scope as they set forth the pastoralist launch of the 18-minute “Flight of the Sloths” on side B, moving from acoustic strum and a repeating title line into a gradual build effective enough so that when Jasper Hesselink returns on vocals 13 minutes later in the spaced-out payoff — because yes, the sloths are flying between planets; was there any doubt? — it makes you want to believe the sloths are out there working hard to stay in the air. The real kicker? No Man’s Valley are no less considered in how they bring “Flight of the Sloths” up and down across its span than they are “Love” or “Shapeshifter” early on, both under three minutes long. And that’s what maturing as songwriters can do for you, though No Man’s Valley have always had a leg up in that regard.

No Man’s Valley on Facebook

No Man’s Valley on Bandcamp

—

Land Mammal, Emergence

Dallas’ Land Mammal defy expectation a few times over on their second full-length, with the songwriting of Will Weise and Kinsley August turning toward greater depth of arrangement and more meditative atmospheres across the nine songs/34 minutes of Emergence, which even in a rolling groove like “Divide” has room for flute and strings. Elsewhere, sitar and tanpura meet with lap steel and keyboard as Land Mammal search for an individual approach to modern progressive heavy. There’s some shades of Elder in August‘s approach on “I Am” or the earlier “Tear You Down,” but the instrumental contexts surrounding are wildly different, and Land Mammal thrive in the details, be it the hand-percussion and far-back fuzz colliding on “The Circle,” or the tabla and sitar, drums and keys as “Transcendence (Part I)” and “Transcendence (Part II)” finish, the latter with the sounds of getting out of the car and walking in the house for epilogue. Yeah, I guess after shifting the entire stylistic scope of your band you’d probably want to go inside and rest for a bit. Well earned.

Land Mammal on Facebook

Kozmik Artifactz store

—

Forgotten King, The Seeker

Released through Majestic Mountain Records, the debut full-length from Forgotten King, The Seeker, would seem to have been composed and recorded entirely by Azul Josh Bisama, also guitarist in Kal-El, though a full lineup has since formed. That happens. Just means the second album will have a different dynamic than the first, and there are some parts as in the early cut “Lost” where that will be a benefit as Azul Josh refines the work laying out a largesse-minded, emotively-evocative approach on these six cuts, likewise weighted and soaring. The album is nothing if not aptly-named, though, as Forgotten King lumber through “Drag” and march across 10 minutes of stately atmospheric doom, eventually seeing the melodic vocals give way to harsher fare in the second half, what’s being sought seems to have been found at least on a conceptual level, and one might say the same of “Around the Corner” or “The Sun” taking familiar-leaning desert rock progressions and doing something decisively ‘else’ with them. Very much feels like the encouraging beginning of a longer exploration.

Forgotten King on Facebook

Majestic Mountain Records store

—

Church of Hed, The Fifth Hour

Branched off from drummer/synthesist Paul Williams‘ intermittent work over the decades with Quarkspace, the mostly-solo-project Church of Hed explores progressive, kraut and space rock in a way one expects far more from Denmark than Columbus, Ohio — to wit, Jonathan Segel (Øresund Space Collective, Camper Van Beethoven) guests on violin, bass and guitar at various points throughout the nine-tracker, which indeed is about an hour long at 57 minutes. Church of Hed‘s last outing, 2022’s The Father Road, was an audio travelogue crossing the United States from one coast to the other. The Fifth Hour is rarely so concerned with terrestrial impressionism, and especially in its longer-form pieces “Pleiades Waypoint” (13:50), “Son of a Silicon Rogue” (14:59) or “The Fifth Hour” (8:43), it digs into sci-fi prog impulses that even in the weird blips and robot twists of the interlude “Aniluminescence 2” or the misshapen techno in the closing semi-reprise “Bastard Son of The Fifth Hour” never quite feels as dystopian as some other futures in the multiverse, and that becomes a strength.

Church of Hed on Facebook

Church of Hed website

—

Zolle, Rosa

Like the Melvins on an AC/DC kick or what you might get if you took ’70s arena rock, put it in a can and shook it really, really hard, Italian duo Zolle are a burst of weirdo sensation on their fifth full-length, Rosa. The songs are ready for whatever football match stadium P.A. you might want to put them on — hugely, straight-ahead, uptempo, catchy, fun in pieces like “Pepe” and “Lana” at the outset, “Merda,” “Pompon,” “Confetto” and “Fiocco” later on, likewise huge and silly in “Pois” or closer “Maialini e Maialine,” and almost grounded on “Toffolette e Zuccherini” at the start but off and running again soon enough — if you can keep up with guitarist/vocalist Marcello and drummer Stefano, for sure they make it worth the effort, and capture some of the intensity of purpose they bring to the stage in the studio and at the same time highlighting the shenanigans writ large throughout in their riffs and the cheeky bit of pop grandiosity that’s such a toy in their hands. You would not call it light on persona.

Zolle on Facebook

Subsound Records website

—

Shadow and Claw, Whereabouts Unknown

Thicker in tone than much of modern black metal, and willing toward the organic in a way that feels born of Cascadia a little more to the northwest as they blast away in “Era of Ash,” Boise, Idaho’s Shadow and Claw nonetheless execute moody rippers across the five songs/41 minute of their debut, Whereabouts Unknown. Known for his work in Ealdor Bealu and the solo-project Sawtooth Monk, guitarist/vocalist Travis Abbott showcases a rasp worthy of Enslaved‘s Grutle Kjellson on the 10-minute “Wrath of Thunder,” so while there are wolves amid the trio’s better chairs, to be sure, Shadow and Claw aren’t necessarily working from any single influence in or out of char-prone extreme metals, and as the centerpiece gives over to the eponymous “Shadow and Claw,” those progressive aspirations are reaffirmed as Abbott, drummer/backing vocalist Aaron Bossart (also samples) and bassist/backing vocalist Geno Lopez find room for a running-water-backed acoustic epilogue to “Scouring the Plane of Existence” and the album as a whole. Easy to imagine them casting these songs into the sunset on the side of some pointy Rocky Mountain or other, shadows cast and claws raised.

Shadow and Claw on Facebook

Shadow and Claw on Bandcamp

—

Floridian heavy rockers The Electric Mud will release their new album, Ashes and Bone, on Oct. 4 through Small Stone Records. Named of course after the classic Muddy Waters album, Electric Mud (discussed here), the band made their Small Stone debut with 2020’s Burn the Ships (review here) and there and on the subsequent Black Wool EP (review here), they fostered a markedly bluesy heavy rock sound. That’s still definitely a factor on Ashes and Bone‘s 10-track/43-minute span, most notably in the vocals of guitarist Peter Kolter — joined in the band by guitarist Constantine Grim, bassist Tommy Scott and drummer Pierson Whicker — but change is clearly afoot in their sound.

In the twisting lead riffing of “The Crown That Eats the Head’ or the rhythmically tense chug behind “The Old Ways” and “Manmade Weather” later on, The Electric Mud transpose an early-Mastodon influence into a more aggressive form of their own heavy blues. This, coupled with a sharper attack in the grooves of pieces like opener “Silent Gods” and the careening “Top of the Tree” in the album’s initial salvo, changes the scope of Ashes and Bone coming off of Burn the Ships, and while that record wanted nothing for energy, the direction in which that manifests is notably shifted from where it was. Whether that was conscious or not as the band set themselves to the task of writing, I don’t know, but they’re at least aware of it after the fact as a characteristic of the album — the PR wire info below attests — and even as they make their way from the taut craft of “Manmade Weather” and the angularity of the penultimate “Pillars” into the nine-minute progressively-structured semi-metallized “Ace” to round out, they seem to revel in the new without entirely letting go of who they were last time around.

“Ashes and Bone,” the title-track with a lyric video premiering below, is somewhat anomalous in its construction. It follows the organ-laced meld of presumed side-A capper “Wrath of the Mighty,” which brings in a bit of dogmatic fire and brimstone, and brings together fluid melody and more complex rhythms, and keeps the organ behind a brooding verse en route to building to a chorus delivering the album’s titular line. It is bluesier than some of the album that shares its name, but its ebbs and flows resolve in a solo-topped crescendo that’s precise enough to tie it to the surrounding pieces. It’s a somewhat mournful lyrical perspective — fair enough — shared with the likes of “The Old Ways” and “Gone Are the Days,” but “Ashes and Bone” is a standout for highlighting both how anchored in roll The Electric Mud are and how much they are able to work around that solid center.

Moreover, Ashes and Bone serves as a reminder that the lines between microgenres are imaginary in the first place, that music is music, and that part of the function of art is to be a showcase for new ideas and interpretations. For someone like me, sitting at a keyboard after the fact of the album’s making and trying to convey some of its intent to anyone who might take it on, this notion is crucial to keeping an open mind. It may be that The Electric Mud are in a transitional moment on their way to become a metal band. If so, all the better that they’ve managed to capture that process as it’s happening rather than simply showing up next time around as basically a different band. Whether that’s the case or not, I obviously have no idea, but with as much motion as there is throughout Ashes and Bone, however post-apocalyptic it may be, it’s hard to think of The Electric Mud resting on these laurels any more than they did after Burn the Ships.

If it needs to be said, that’s a good thing. As a niche, blues rock could use a kick in the ass and a refreshed perspective. The Electric Mud would seem to be providing both.

Enjoy the video:

The Electric Mud, “Ashes and Bone” video premiere

It’s been three years since the release of THE ELECTRIC MUD’s Black Wool EP and, encouraged by friends, family, and the brass at Small Stone, the band is excited to announce their return. They believed they had more to say, and that their best music was still in front of them. They believed the ideas and creative philosophy that brought the band to life and to the precipice of so many exciting things just a few short years ago had to be carried to the next point in their evolution. A new full-length album, it was decided, was the best way to make that statement.

During the writing sessions, a theme emerged: Mankind’s obsession with its own destruction. Where did it come from, and where will it take us? THE ELECTRIC MUD intended to examine some of the darker angels of our nature, and set it to a heavy, post-apocalyptic soundtrack. Decamping to Juniper Recordings in Cape Coral, Florida, and bringing Caleb Neff aboard not just to engineer the record but produce it created an open and creative environment in the studio that’s integral to the sound. There is a deep collaborative bond stitched into the fabric of the record, a collection of heavy sounds and ideas that are truly egalitarian in nature. The point is emphatically driven home with a fantastic mix by Ben McLeod, studio wiz by day, guitar demigod for All Them Witches by night. The resulting record, Ashes And Bone, has been a labor of love, and a reminder of what they love about music and each other.

Boasting a heavier, more aggressive sound that owes as much to the sludgy, prog inflected ferocity of Soundgarden or Mastodon as it does the eerie proto-metal riffing of Black Sabbath and soulful energy of Graveyard, Ashes And Bone is a firmly taken musical step forward into the future as much as it is the sound of a band taking care of unfinished business.

Ashes And Bone, which features album artwork and design by Alexander von Wieding, will be released on CD, LP and digital formats.

Find preorders at the Small Stone Recordings Bandcamp page at THIS LOCATION: https://smallstone.bandcamp.com/album/ashes-and-bone

Ashes And Bone Track Listing:
1. Silent Gods
2. Top Of The Tree
3. The Crown That Eats The Head
4. Gone Are The Days
5. Wrath Of The Mighty
6. Ashes And Bone
7. The Old Ways
8. Manmade Weather
9. Pillars
10. Ace

THE ELECTRIC MUD:
Constantine Grim – guitar
Pierson Whicker – drums, percussion
Peter Kolter – vocals, guitar
Tommy Scott – bass

Special Guests:
Joe Reppert – organ and keys on “Wrath Of The Mighty”
Jon Meek – synths on “Wrath Of The Mighty” and “Ace”

The Electric Mud on Facebook

The Electric Mud on Instagram

The Electric Mud on Bandcamp

The Electric Mud website

Small Stone Records on Facebook

Small Stone Records on Instagram

Small Stone Records on Bandcamp

Small Stone Records website