Posted in Whathaveyou on May 5th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Here’s a daydream for you. Hop on a plane and land somewhere in Spain that’s (quite literally, as I understand it) out of a Sergio Leone film to see three full days of international quality heavy from Mondo Generator and Unida and Nightstalker on down to Xispa and the Wild Pigs. I’m assuming the six tickets that were left when Tabernas Desert Rock Fest 2025 posted its full lineup the other day are long gone by now, or if not, congratulations if you’re one of the last six. I’ve talked to people who’ve been to this one and it looks amazing. Think of an experiential festival, kind of like Duna Jam or Bear Stone, but in an old-style Western setting.
And not to harp on it, but the lineup is really solid. I’m less familiar with Convoy or Scrotem or Baläte near the bottom of the poster, though at least the latter have played before, but with the likes of High Desert Queen, Kal-El, Rotor, TempleFang, Godsleep, Ritual King and Tankzilla, it’s a cross-generational assemblage limited to 300 tickets and what seems to be an intimate setting that, at very least, is going to look incredible when you share the photos of everyone ripping it up. This is one I’ve been keeping up with for the last few years, and I think it’s easy to see why when you check the bill.
Again, I’m assuming those six tickets are gone, but you never know until you reach out at the email below:
So now here it is, our official confirmed LINE-UP for 2025 edition, with still one surprise ;-) = ENJOY!
WE ONLY HAVE 6 TICKETS LEFT, GET YOURS NOW BY MAIL:
Posted in Reviews on April 14th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Welcome back to the Quarterly Review. Just because it’s a new week, I’ll say again the idea here is to review 10 releases — albums, EPs, the odd single if I feel like there’s enough to say about it — per day across some span of days. In this case, the Quarterly Review goes to 70. Across Monday to Friday last week, 50 new, older and upcoming offerings were written up and today and tomorrow it’s time to wrap it up. I fly out to Roadburn on Wednesday.
Accordingly, you’ll pardon if I spare the “how was your weekend?”-type filler and jump right in instead. Let’s. Go.
Quarterly Review #51-60:
Megaritual, Recursion
Last heard from in 2017, exploratory Australian psychedelic solo outfit Megaritual — most often styled all-lowercase: megaritual — returns with the aptly-titled Recursion, as multi-instrumentalist, vocalist and producer Dale Paul Walker taps expansive kosmiche progressivisim across nine songs and 42 minutes. If you told me these tracks, which feel streamlined compared to the longer-form work Walker was doing circa 2017, had been coming together since that time, the depth of the arrangements and the way each cut comes across as its own microcosm within the greater whole bears that out, be it the winding wisps of “Tres Son Multitud” or the swaying echoey bliss of later highlight “The Jantar Mantar.” I don’t know if that’s the case or it isn’t, but the color in this music alone makes it one of the best records I’ve heard in 2025, and I can’t get away from thinking some of the melody and progressive aspects comes from metal like Opeth, so yeah. Basically, it’s all over the place and wonderful. Thanks for reading.
Slab-heavy riffage from Andalusian three-piece Red Eye‘s III spreads itself across a densely-weighted but not monolithic — or at least not un-dynamic or unipolar — eight songs, as a switch between shouted and more melodic vocals early on between the Ufomammut-esque “Sagittarius A*” (named for the black hole at the Milky Way’s center; it follows the subdued intro “Ad Infinitum”) and the subsequent, doomier in a Pallbearer kind of way “See Yourself” gives listeners an almost-immediate sense of variety around the wall-o’-tone lumbering fuzz that unites those two and so much else throughout as guitarist/vocalist Antonio Campos del Pino, bassist/synthesist Antonio Pérez Muriel and drummer/synthesist/vocalist Pablo Terol Rosado veer between more and less aggressive takes. “No Morning After” renews the bash, “Beyond” makes it a party, “Stardust” uses that momentum to push the tempo faster and “Nebula” makes it swing into the Great Far Out before “The Nine Billion Names of God” builds to a flattening crescendo. Intricate in terms of style and crushingly heavy. Easy win.
Even by the respective standards of the bands involved — and considering the output of Detroit grit-doomers Temple of the Fuzz Witch and Montreal sans-guitar scathemakers Seum to this point, it’s a significant standard — Conjuring is some nasty, nasty shit. Presented through Black Throne Productions with manic hand-drawn cover art that reminds of Midwestern pillsludge circa 2008, the 27-minute split outing brings three songs from each outfit, and maybe it’s the complementary way Seum‘s low-end picks up from the grueling, chugging, and finally rolling fare Temple of the Fuzz Witch provide, but both acts come through as resoundingly, willfully, righteously bleak. You know how at the dentist they let you pick your flavor of toothpaste? This is like that except surprise you just had all your teeth pulled. It only took half-an-hour, but now you need to figure out what to do with your dazed, gummy self. Good luck.
Uncle Woe offer two eight-minutes-each tracks on the new EP, Folded in Smoke, Soaked and Bound, as project founder/spearhead Rain Fice (in Canada) and collaborator Marc Whitworth (in Australia) bring atmosphere and grace to underlying plod. It’s something of a surprise when “One is Obliged” relatively-speaking solidifies at about five minutes in around vocal soar, which is an effective, emotional moment in a song that seems to be mourning even as it grows broader moving toward the finish. “Of Symptoms and Waves” impresses vocally as well, deep in the mix as the vocals are, but feels more about the darker prog metal-type stretch that unfolds from about the halfway point on. But what’s important to note is these plays on genre are filtered through Uncle Woe‘s own aesthetic vision, and so this short outing becomes both lush and raw for the obvious attention to its sonic details and the overarching melancholy that belongs so much to the band. A well-appreciated check-in.
I would not attempt to nor belittle the band’s accomplishments by trying to summarize 35 years of Negative Reaction in this space, but as the West-Virginia-by-way-of-Long-Island unit led by its inimitable principal/guitarist/vocalist Ken-E Bones mark this significant occasion, the collection Salvaged From the Kuiper Belt provides 16 decades-spanning tracks covering sundry eras of the band. I haven’t seen a liner, so I don’t even know the number of players involved here, but Bones has been through several incarnations of Negative Reaction at this point, so when “NOD” steamrollers and later pieces like “Mercy Killing” and the four-second highlight “Stick o’ Gum” are more barebones in their punksludge, it makes sense in context. Punk, psych, sludge, raw vocals — these have always been key ingredients to Negative Reaction‘s often-harsh take, and it’s a blend that’s let them endure beyond trend, reason, or human kindness. Congrats to Bones, whom I consider a friend of long-standing, and many more.
Given how many different looks Fomies present on Liminality, and how movement-based so much of it is between the uptempo proto-punk, krauty shuffle and general sense of push — not out of line with the psych of the modern age, but too weird not to be its own spin — it feels like mellower opener “The Onion Man” is its own thing at the front of the album; a mellower lead-in to put the listener in a more preferred mindset (on the band’s part) to enjoy what follows. This is artfully done, as is the aforementioned “what follows,” as the band thoughtfully boogie through the three-part “Colossus,” find a moment for frenetic fuzz via Gary Numan in “Neon Gloom,” make even the two-and-a-half-minute “Happiness Relay” a show of chemistry, finish in a like-minded tonal fullness with “Upheaval,” and engage with decades of motorik worship without losing themselves more than they want to in the going. At 51 minutes, Liminality is somewhat heady, but that’s inherent to the style as well, and the band’s penchant for adventure comes through smoothly alongside all that super-dug-in vibing.
Classic Boston DGAF heavy riff rock, and if you hear a good dose of hardcore in amid the swing and shove, The Long Wait‘s self-titled debut comes by it honestly. The five-piece of vocalist Glen Dudley (Wrecking Crew), guitarist Darryl Shepard (Kind, Milligram, Slapshot, etc.) and Steven Risteen (Slapshot), bassist Jaime Sciarappa (SSD, Slapshot) and drummer Mark McKay (Slapshot) plunder through nine cuts. Certainly elbows are out, but considering where they’re coming from, it’s not an overly aggressive sound. Hardcore dudes have been veering into heavier riffing à la “Uncharted Greed” or “FWM” for the last 35 years, so The Long Wait feels well in line with a tradition that some of these guys helped set in the first place as it revisits songs from 2023’s demo and expands outward from there, searching for and beginning to find its own interpretation of what “bullshit-free” means in terms of the band’s craft.
Since 2020, Miskolc, Hungary-based solo-band Babona have released three EPs, a couple singles and now two full-lengths, with Az Utolsó Választás Kora (‘the age of the last choice’) as the second album from multi-instrumentalist and producer Tamás Rózsa. Those with an appreciation for the particular kind of crunch Eastern Europe brings to heavy rock will find the eight-tracker a delight in the start-stops of “2/3” and the vocals-are-sampled-crying-and-laughing “A Rendszer Rothadása,” which digs into its central riff with suitable verve. The later “Kormányalakítás” hints at psych — something Rózsa has fostered going back to 2020 with Ottlakán, from whom Babona seems to have sprung — and the album isn’t without humor as a crowing rooster snaps the listener out of that song’s trance in the transition to the ambient post-rocker “Frakció,” but when it’s time to get to business, Rózsa caps with “Pártatlan” as a grim, sludgy lumber that holds its foreboding mood even into its own comedown. That’s not the first time Az Utolsó Választás Kora proves deceptively immersive.
Sit tight, because it’s about to get pretty genre-nerdy. Sutras, the Washington D.C.-based two-piece of Tristan Welch (vocals/guitar) and Frederick Ashworth (drums/bass) play music that is psychedelic and heavy, but with a strong foundation specifically in post-hardcore. Their term for it is ‘Dharma punk,’ which is enough to make me wonder if there’s a krishna-core root here, but either way, The Crisis of Existence feels both emotive and ethereal as the duo bring together airy guitar and rhythmic urgency, raw, sometimes gang-shouted vocals, and arrangements that feel fluid whether it’s the rushing post-punk (yeah, I know: so much ‘post-‘; I told you to sit tight) of “Racing Sundown” or the denser push of “Bloom Watch” or the swing brought to that march in “Working Class Devotion.” They cap the 19-minute EP with posi-vibes in “Being Nobody, Going Nowhere,” which provides one last chance for their head-scratching-on-paper sound to absolutely, totally work, as it does. The real triumph here, fists in the air and all that, is that it sounds organic.
The story of Sleeping in Samsara‘s self-titled two-songer as per Christian Peters (formerly Samsara Blues Experiment, currently Fuzz Sagrado, etc.) is that in 2023, My Sleeping Karma drummer Steffen Weigand reached out with an interest in collaborating as part of a solo-project Weigand was developing. Weigandpassed away in June 2023, and “Twilight Again” and “Downtime,” with underlying basic tracks from Weigand in drums, keys/synth, and rhythm guitar, and Peters adding lead guitar, vocals, bass in the latter, the songs are unsurprising in their cohesion only when one considers the fluidity wrought by both parties in their respective outfits, and though the loss of Weigand of course lends a bittersweet cast, that this material has seen the light of day at all feels like a tribute to his life and cretive drive.
Day three. Yesterday had its challenges as regards timing, but ultimately I wound up where I wanted to be, which is finished with the writing. Fingers crossed I’m so lucky today. Last time around I hit into a groove pretty early and the days kind of flew, so I’m due a Quarterly Review where it’s a little more pulling teeth to make sentences happen. I’m doing my best either way. That’s it. That’s the update. Let’s go Wednesday.
Quarterly Review #21-30:
Godzillionaire, Diminishing Returns
Tell you what. Instead of pretending I knew Godzillionaire at all before this record came along or that I had any prior familiarity with frontman Mark Hennessy‘s ’90s-era outfit Paw — unlike everything else I’ve seen written about the band — I’ll admit to going into Diminishing Returns relatively blind. And somehow it’s still nostalgic? With its heart on its sleeve and one foot in we’re-all-definitely-over-all-that-shit-from-our-20s-by-now-right-guys poetic moodiness, the Lawrence, Kansas, four-piece veer between the atmospherics of “Spin Up Spin Down” and more grounded grooves like that of “Boogie Johnson” or “3rd Street Shuffle.” “Unsustainable” dares post-rock textures and an electronic beat, “Astrogarden” has a chug imported from 1994 and the seven-minutes-each capstone pair “Common Board, Magic Nail,” which does a bit of living in its own head, and “Shadow of a Mountain,” which has a build but isn’t a blowout, reward patient listens. I guess if you were there in the ’90s, it’s god-tier heavy underground hype. From where I sit, it’s pretty solid anyhow.
In Flight is the second full-length from Portland, Oregon’s Time Rift, and it brings the revamped trio lineup of vocalist Domino Monet, founding guitarist Justin Kaye and drummer Terrica Catwood to a place between classic heavy rock and classic metal, colliding ’70s groove and declarative ’80s NWOBHM riffing — advance single “The Hunter” strikes with a particularly Mob Rulesian tone, but it’s relatable to a swath of non-sucky metal of the age — such that “Follow Tomorrow” finds a niche that sounds familiar in its obscurity. They’re not ultimately rewriting any playbooks stylistically, but the balance of the production highlights the organic foundation without coming across like a put-on, and the performances thrive in that. Sometimes you want some rock and roll. Time Rift brought plenty for everyone.
Canadian instrumentalist trio Heavy Trip released their sophomore LP, Liquid Planet, in Nov. 2024, following on from 2020’s Burning World-issued self-titled debut (review here). A 13-minute title-track serves as opener and longest inclusion (immediate points), setting a high standrad for scorch that the pulls and shred of “Silversun,” the rush and roll of “Astrononaut” (sic) and capper “Mudd Red Moon” with its maybe-just-wah-all-the-time push and noisy comedown ending, righteously answer. It’s easy enough on its face to cite Earthless as an influence — instrumental band with ace guitarist throwing down a gauntlet for 40 minutes; they’re also touring Europe together — but Heavy Trip follow a trajectory of their own within the four songs and are less likely to dwell in a part, as the movement within “Astrononaut” shows plainly. I won’t be surprised when their next one comes with label backing.
An impressive debut from UK four-piece Slung, whose provenance I don’t know but who sound like they’ve been at it for a while and have come into their first album, In Ways, with clarity of what they want in terms of sound and songwriting. “Laughter” opens raucous, and “Class A Cherry” follows with a sleeker slower roll, while “Come Apart” pushes even further into loud/quiet trades for a soaring chorus and “Collider” pays off its early low-end tension with a melodic hook that feels so much bigger than what one might find in a three-minute song. It goes like that: one cut after another, for 11 songs and 37 minutes, with Slung skillfully guiding the listener from the front of the record to the back. The going can be intense, like “Matador” or the crashing “Thinking About It,” more contemplative like “Limassol” and “Heavy Duty,” and there’s even room for a title-track interlude before the somewhat melancholic “Nothing Left” and “Falling Down” close, though that might only be because Slung use their time so well.
Madrid-based progressive heavy rockers Greengoat return on a quick turnaround from 2024’s A.I. (review here) to Aloft, which over 33 minutes plays through seven songs each of which has been given a proper name: the album intro is “Zohar,” it moves into the grey-toned tension of “Betty,” “Jim” is moody, “Barney” takes it for a walk, and so on. The big-riffed centerpiece “Travis” is a highlight slog, and “Ariel,” which follows, is thoughtful in its melody and deceptively nuanced in the underlying rhythm. That’s kind of how Greengoat do. They’ve taken their influences — and in the case of closer “Charles,” that includes black metal — and internalized them toward their own methodologies, and as such, Aloft feels all the more individually constructed. Hail Iberia as Western Europe’s most undervalued heavy hotspot.
If it seems a little on the nose for Author & Punisher, modern industrial music’s most doom-tinged purveyor, to cover Godflesh, who helped set the style in motion in the first place, yeah, it definitely is. That accounts for the reverence with which Tristan Shone treats the track that originally appeared on 1994’s Selfless LP, and maybe is part of why the song’s apparently been sitting for 11 years since it was recorded in 2014. Accordingly, if some of the sounds remind of 2015’s Melk en Honig (discussed here), the era might account for that. In Shone‘s interpretation, though, the defeated vocal of Justin K. Broadrick becomes a more aggressive rasp and the guitar is transposed to synth. One advantage to living in the age of content-creation is stuff like this gets released at all, let alone posted so you can stream or download as you will. Get it now so when it shows up on the off-album-tracks compilation later you can roll your eyes and be extra cool.
Children of the Sün, Leaving Ground, Greet the End
It’s gotta be a trap, right? The third full-length from Arvika, Sweden, heavy-hippie folk-informed psychedelic rockers Children of the Sün can’t really be this sweet, right? The soaring “Lilium?” The mellow, lap-steel-included motion in “Come With Us?” The fact that they stonerfy “Whole Lotta Love?” Yeah, no way. I know how this goes. You show up and the band are like, “Hey everything’s cool, check out this better universe we just made” and then the next thing you know the floor drops out and you’re doing manual labor on some Swedish farm to align yourself with some purported oneness. I hear you, “Starlighter.” You’re gorgeous and one of many vivid temptations on Leaving Ground, Greet the End, but you’ll not take my soul on your outbound journey through the melodic cosmos. I’m just gonna stay here and be miserable and there’s nothing you or that shiver-down-the-spine backing vocal in “Lovely Eyes” can do about it. So there.
While the core math at work in Pothamus‘ craft in terms of bringing together crushing, claustrophobic tonality, aggressive purposes and expansive atmospherics isn’t necessarily new for a post-metallic playbook, but the melodies that the Belgian trio keep in their pocket for an occasion like “De-Varium” or the drone-folk “Ykavus” before they find another layer of breadth in the 15-minute closing title-track are no less engrossing across the subdued stretches within the six songs of Abur than the band are consuming at their heaviest, and the percussion in the early build of the finale says it better than I could, calling back to the ritualism of opener “Zhikarta” and the way it seems to unfold another layer of payoff with each measure as it crosses the halfway point, only to end up squeezing itself through a tiny tube of low end and finding freedom on the other side in a flood of drone, the entire album playing out its 46 minutes not like parts of a single song, but vivid in the intention of creating a wholeness that is very much manifest in its catharsis.
Gentle Beast, Vampire Witch Reptilian Super Soldier (…From Outer Space)
Gentle Beast are making stoner rock for stoner rockers, if the cumbersome title Vampire Witch Reptilian Super Soldier (…From Outer Space) of the Swiss five-piece’s sophomore LP didn’t already let you know, and from the desert-careening of “Planet Drifter” through the Om-style meditation of “Riding Waves of Karma” (bonus points for digeridoo) ahead of the janga-janga verse and killer chorus of “Revenge of the Buffalo,” they’re not shy about highlighting the point. There’s a spoken part in the early going of “Voodoo Hoodoo Space Machine” that seems to be setting up a narrative, and the organ-laced ending of “Witch of the Mountain” certainly could be seen as a chapter of that unfolding story, but I can’t help but feel like I’m thinking too hard. Go with the riffs, because for sure the riffs are going. Gentle Beast hit pretty hard, counter to the name, and that gives Vampire Witch etc. etc. an outwardly aggressive face, but nobody’s actually getting punched here, they’re just loud having a good time. You can too.
Metal and psychedelia rarely interact with such fluidity, but South Africa’s Acid Magus have found a sweet spot where they can lead a record off with a seven-minute onslaught like “War” and still prog out four minutes later on “Incantations” just because both sound so much in their wheelhouse. In addition, the fullness of their tones and modern production style, the way post-hardcore underlines both the nod later in “Wytch” and the shoving apex of “Emperor” is a unifying factor, while the bright-guitar interludes “Ascendancy” and “Absolution” broaden the palette further and contrast the darker exploration of “Citadel” and the finale “Haven,” which provides a fittingly huge and ceremonious culmination to Scatterling Empire‘s sense of space. It’s almost too perfect in terms of the mix and the balance of the arrangements, but when it hits into a more aggressive moment, they sound organic in holding it together. Acid Magus have actively worked to develop their approach. It’s hard to see the quality of these songs as anything other than reward for that effort.
Good first day yesterday. Good second day today. I’ve been doing Quarterly Reviews for over a decade now, and I’ve kind of learned over time the kind of thing I should be writing about. It might be a record that has a ton of hype or one that has none, and it might be any number of styles — I also like to sneak some stuff in here that doesn’t ‘fit’ once in a while — but in my mind the standard is, “is this something I’ll want to have heard and/or written about later?”
For all the terrors of our age, the glut of good music coming out means there’s more than ever I want to write about, and in a weird way, I look forward to Quarterly Reviews as a way for me to dig in and get caught up a bit. I’ve already been blindsided this QR and it’s the second day. I call that a win.
Quarterly Review #11-20:
Kal-El, Astral Voyager Vol. 1
There are few acts the world over who so succintly summarize so much of the appeal of modern heavy rock. Norway’s Kal-El offer big riffs, big hooks, big melodies, songwriting, and still manage heavy-mellow vibes thanks to an ongoing cosmic thematic that brings desert rock methods to more ethereal places. Is “Cloud Walker” the best song they’ve yet written? It’s on the list for sure, but don’t discount nine-minute opener/longest track (immediate points) “Astral Voyager” or the hey-that’s-a-Star-Trek-reference “Dilithium” with its dug-in low-distortion verses and the Captain‘s vocal outreach. All along, it’s never quite felt like Kal-El were reshaping heavy, but as time passes and they unveil Astral Voyager Vol. 1 with immediate promise of a follow-up, it’s curious how much Kal-El and notions of ‘peak genre’ align. Those of you who proselytize for riffs: even before you get to riding that groove in “Cosmic Sailor,” Kal-El are primed for ambassadorship.
North Carolinian sludgethrowers Bronco take their name from their bassist/vocalist, who also goes by Bronco, and who in the 2010s cut a tone-worshiping generational swath through the Southern wing of the style as a member of Toke, proffering heavy riffs, harsh-throat vocals, and a disaffection that can only be called classic. With eight songs rolling out over 45 minutes, Bronco‘s Bronco picks up the thread where Toke left off with pieces like “Ride Eternal,” which crawls, or the declarative riffing of “Legion” (eerie guest vocals included amid all the pummel), or the closer “TONS,” which I’m going to assume isn’t titled after the Italian sludge-band, though if those guys wanted to put out a song called “Bronco” on their next record, they’d be well within their rights. A remarkably cohesive debut for something that’s so loudly telling you to fuck yourself. These guys’ll be opening for High on Fire in no time.
Although one wouldn’t listen to Santiago, Chile’s Ocultum and be likely to have “refined” top the list of impressions given by the raw, rot-coated sludge of their third album and Heavy Psych Sounds debut, Buena Muerte, the grim-leaning atmosphere, charge later in the title-track, cultish presentation and the atmosphere emergent both from guitar-wail and yelling interlude “Fortunato’s Fortune” and from the material that surrounds, whether that’s the title-track or the just-under-12-minute “Last Weed on Earth.” The record finds the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Sebastián Bruna, bassist Pablo Cataldo and drummer Ricardo Robles dug in, stoned and malevolent. They’re not as over-the-top as many in cult rock, but one does get a sense of ceremony from “Last Weed on Earth” and subsequent capper “Emki’s Return” — the latter galloping in its first half and willfully devolved from there into avant noise — even if that’s more about the making of the songs than the performance of genre tropes.
The grunge crunch of “Running With Secrets” and the Cantrell-y acoustics of “Push” are barely the beginning of the story as regards Fidel A Go Go‘s meld of sounds, which ranges from the willfully desert rocking “Sandstorm” to the proggy “Lil Shit,” the transposed blues of “Rainy Days” and the penultimate “Psychedelicexistentialcrisisalidocious,” which is serene in its melody and troubling in the words, as one would hope, and while the moniker and the punny album title speak to shenanigans, the Brisbane four-piece offer a point of view both instrumentally and lyrically that is engaging and draws together the stylistic range. There’s little doubt left to whom “A Stench of Musk” and “Barely an Adversary” are about, but even that’s not the extent of the perspective resonant in these 11 songs. There’s enough fuzz here for desert heads, but Fidel A Go Go are broader in attitude and craft, and Diss Engaged makes a point of its artistic freedom.
Like their 2023 debut EP, Lady Cadaver, Tumble‘s second short offering, Lost in Light sees the trio of guitarist/vocalist Liam Deak, bassist Tarun Dawar and drummer Will Adams working with producer/engineer Ian Blurton (Ian Blurton’s Future Now, etc.) to hone and sharpen a classic, proto-metallic sound without seeing a dip in recording quality. As such, the five songs/20 minutes of Lost in Light are duly brash — looking at you, “Dead by Rumour” and the Radio Moscow-esque “The Less I Know” — but crisp in tone and execution. The mid-tempo “Sullen Slaves” picks up in its solo section later for a bit of boogie, and the slightly-slower metallic lurch of “Laid by Fear” sets up a contrast with the swinging closer “Wings of Gold” that makes the ending of the EP an absolute strut. They aren’t even asking a half-hour of your time, and the rewards are more than commensurate for getting down. They continue to be one to watch as they position themselves for a full-length debut in the next couple years.
Normally I might consider it a hindrance to have no clue what’s going on, but if you’ve never before encountered Italy/France semi-industrial duo Putan Club you might just find yourself in better position going into Filles d’Octobre as the avant garde radfem troupe unfurl a live set recorded at Portugal’s Amplifest, presumably in 2022. But if you don’t know it’s a live record, what’s coming musically, or that Filles d’Octobre is derived from their 2017 debut album, Filles de Mai, there’s a decent change your contextless self will be scrathing your head in wonder of just what’s going on with the bouncy lurch and maybe xylophone of “Filippino,” and that seems to suit Putan Club just fine. If you have to break something to remake it, Putan Club are set to the task of manifesting a rock and roll that is dangerous, new, unrepentantly socially critical, and ready to dance when you are. That they meet these significant ambitions head on shouldn’t be discounted. Not for everybody, but definitely for everybody who thinks they’ve heard it all.
The first live offering from Argentinian prog-heavy instrumentalists IAH follows behind the band’s most expansive studio LP to-date, 2023’s V (review here), and brings into emphasis the group’s dynamic. It’s not just about being able to make a part sound floaty or to make the part next to it crush, but the character of a piece like the 24-minute “Noboj pri Uaset” (which might be new) is as much about the journey undertaken in their builds and the smoothness of the shifts between parts. They dip back to their earlier going for “Sheut” at the start of the set and “Ourboros” and “Eclipsum” the latter of which closes, and the bass in “Sentado en el Borde de una Pregunta” is worth the price of admission alone, never mind as a complement to the extended progression of “Noboj pri Uaset,” which is something of the buried lede here. So be it. On stage or on record, IAH offer immersion unto themselves. A little more tonal edge as a result of the live recording doesn’t hurt that one bit.
Before the Dawn of Time is upwards of the seventh full-length from Swedish vintage-style heavy rockers Gin Lady, and in addition to seeing them make the jump from Kozmik Artifactz to Ripple Music, the sans-pretense 11-songer invents its own moment. It’s like the comedown era (from 1968-1974, roughly) happened, but happened differently. It’s another path to a heavy rock future. There’s ’70s vibes in “Tingens Sanna Natur” a-plenty, and if it’s boogie or push or hooky melodic wash you want, “Mulberry Bend” has you covered for that and then some, never mind the down-home strum of “Bliss on the Line” or the pastoral contemplation of “The Long Now,” as Gin Lady put a classy stamp of their own on classic aural ideologies, as what are no doubt hyperspecific keyboards make the production smooth and let “Ways to Cross the Sky” commune with Morricone while capper “You’re a Big Star” drops a melody that can really only be called “arena ready.” As it stands, it’ll probably go over killer at festivals across Europe.
Duly apocalyptic for being the band’s first full-length release since 2019, Adrift‘s fourth album, Dry Soil, elicits an overarching doom that makes its tonal claustrophobia all the more affecting. The long-running Madrid outfit offer six songs that veer between the contemplative and the caustic as throatrippers worthy of Enslaved add an element of the extreme to the post-metallic intensity of “Edge” and “Restart” in the record’s middle. There are heavy rock underpinnings — that is, somebody here still likes Sabbath — but Adrift are well at home in all the bludgeonry, and “Bonfire” finishes by tying black metal, sludge, noise and darkly thrashing metal together with a suitably severe ambience. Are they torching it at the end? Kind of, but just replace “it” with “everything” and you’ll have a better idea perhaps of where they’re coming from on the whole. But for regionalist discrimination, Adrift would’ve conquered Europe a long time ago.
Berlin trio Black Sadhu — guitarist/vocalist Max Lowry (also synth, effects), bassist Alex Glimm and drummer Martin Cederlund — employ atmosphere to a point of cinematics on their second full-length, Ashes of Aether, following up the post-doom wash of 2021 standalone single “Mindless Masses” with plays back and forth between full-heft nod and take-a-breather meanderings. This cuts momentum less than one might think as the keyboard and drone and sample of “Tumors of Light” lend experimentalist verve to “Descent,” the next of the nine-track outing’s more-complete-song songs, as the latter unfolds with a shine on the crash that continues to cut through the surrounding rumble as the procession unfurls. Patience, then. So long as you know the payoff is coming — and it is; looking at you, “Electric Death” — and don’t mind being stretched and contorted on a molecular level between here and there, you should be good to go.
The Elven will release their debut album, Solstice, this week through Spinda Records, Clostridium Records and Echodelick Records. If that seems like a mighty consortium for a newcomer outfit, it’s worth noting that the band is comprised of members of Spain’s Saturna — bassist Rod Tirado and guitarist/vocalist James Vieco — collaborating with Earthless guitarist Isaiah Mitchell. With the lineup completed by keyboardist Tabatha Puig and drummer Javi Gómez, the full band came together as a pandemic-era divergence on the part of Tirado and Vieco, and while I don’t know the timing on at what point in the last five years it was actually put to tape — which really only matters if you’re curious how long it took the songs to come together and how long they’ve been sitting on the release, which I am — the sound of the band speaks to a timeless encapsulation of classic and heavy rock. Suddenly three labels to cover different geographic regions doesn’t seem like too much.
Opener “Shine” begins with a stretch of standalone guitar and vocals, offering immediately organic tonality and a recognizably strong, ’70s-style vocal from Vieco that will continue to mesh well with the proceedings throughout. There are flashes of proggier effects, synthy flashes from Puig‘s keys and leans into psychedelia amid the low-end warmth of the underlying riffing, varying in fuzz and tone and of course every now and then taking off on an ace solo or two — unavoidable given personnel and not a thing about which to complain — but what’s most striking about it is the cohesiveness of character. “Shine” resolves in a purposeful, soulful chorus and lets the listener loose on the rest of the album with high expectations that the strum and circa-’68 bottom-of-mouth-style verse and subsequent classy scorch of “Far Beyond” begins to meet.
Whatever the original impetus might’ve been — one assumes plague restlessness — behind the formation of The Elven, the band remain striking in their blend of influences from a span of decades, letting “Closer to Freedom” follow “Far Beyond” as a slower, drumless melodic divergence before the shuffle renews in “New Pair of Wings,” which answers the textural elements of hte songs preceding with a purposefully light, airy pastoralia of tone. Even the solo sounds nostalgic, and it’s supposed to, so that’s a win. Further to the purposeful nature of the entire affair, Solistice‘s eight tracks/34 minutes play out in a back and forth of longer and shorter songs, the longest of which is side B opener “Stand Right Next to Me” at 6:20.
There’s a sax, or what sounds like one, in “Stand Right Next to Me,” and that adds to the fullness of the jam that follows the earlier verse, which sets the vocals deeper in the mix for a broader sound. The band are well comfortable in the swing and the finish is classic enough that it sounds like they’re ending the intro to a late-night talk show, by which I of course mean they’re both pro-shop and on-fire, and the realignment toward the shorter and more straight-ahead “Out the Door” does nothing to lessen that impression. Somewhat crunchier in tone — nothing here comes close to aggression; for context, there’s still room for a honky-tonk sound from the keys — it recalls early ’70s blues-boogie without aping either structure or production, conveying a clarity of sound as well as an aesthetic of humility despite the arrangement outreach. The abiding lack of pretense and/or extraneous bullshit serves them well throughout.
The last longer-shorter pairing is “Wherever I Go,” duly rambling and Joe Cocker-esque in its throaty melody and sway, and the 2:23 “All of a Sudden,” which is a quieter outro based around the guitar with flourish of keys to complement. A subdued ending to a record that’s never quite let it all loose but that instead has skillfully and gracefully carried the listener from one end to the other, still remaining balanced between intention and execution, by which I mean nothing is overwritten or overplayed for what they’re trying to do. Again, pro-shop. Those who come into Solstice with the context in mind of who these players are and their prior work will probably get their hopes up going into it, but regardless of where you think the music might go because you know Saturna or Earthless, part of what The Elven accomplish on this first album is to create a vibrant persona of the band’s own.
The album is out April 3, which is Thursday, and can be ordered now. You’ll find it in full on the player below, followed by more info from the PR wire. I didn’t mention it in the review proper, but credit to Jondix for the badass art.
Enjoy the stream:
‘Solstice’ will be available on April 3, 2025, and will be released exclusively in digital format and on vinyl; in a limited edition of 300 copies in marbled yellow, which can already be pre-ordered atspindarecords.com.
What began at the end of 2020 as an irrational need to compose music by Rod Tirado and James Vieco from Saturna soon took on a different identity when they brought in their friends Isaiah Mitchell (Earthless) on lead guitar, Tabatha Puig on keyboards, and Javi Gómez on drums. In just one month, they wrote the 8 songs that make up this debut album, titled ‘Solstice’, which they recorded with all the freshness and spontaneity of the moment at the Analog Drive-in Studios, alongside Christian A. Korn at the controls and Dani Pernas as co-producer. Pernas would later handle the mixing before passing the project on to Estanis Elorza for mastering.
For the graphic design, they once again enlisted an illustration by Jondix (Tool, Black Sabbath, High on Fire, Electric Wizard) and the design by Jalón de Aquiles for a vinyl edition that will be released by Spinda Records (ES), in a new collaboration with Clostridium Records (DE) and Echodelick Records (US), who previously worked together on the debut album by Loma Baja.
Solstice 1. Shine 2. Far beyond 3. Closer to freedom 4. New pair of wings 5. Stand right next to me 6. Out the door 7. Wherever I go 8. All of a sudden
THE ELVEN is: Rod Tirado: bass James Vieco: guitars, vocals Isaiah Mitchell: guitars Tabatha Puig: keys Javi Gómez: drums
Set to release on Valentine’s Day — and who says chunky-style instrumentalist heavy progressive psychedelic rock isn’t for lovers? — Les Efímeres is the third album from Barcelona cosmic twisters We Are Impala. The Jetglow Recordings outing runs a stately 48 minutes and takes the time it wants to take to say what it wants to say, offering variety and adventure, whimsy and wistfulness, hard crunch and pastoralia along the sometimes-angular-but-well-guided trajectory. It is something of a rollercoaster, but like a rollercoaster, the truth of the thing is the solidity of the tracks on which it’s running — ideally, and in this case.
And as “La Dansa de les Efímeres: Part 1” shows, it doesn’t always have to be one or the other, as the guitars of Xevi Strings and Albert Martínez-López weave through a kind of busy serenity, airy in the outreach of echo and weighted in the impact of Jon Ander Soto Corral‘s drumming and the low midsection fuzz of Mauro Pinto Risco‘s bass. If it were easy to pin down, it wouldn’t have the fluidity it does, but in an age where space metal and boogie shuffle don’t have to be mutually exclusive, they aren’t. “Contra la Tirania del Domèstic” (video premiering below) pulls together Earthless-style vitality and a drift that feels more of the Pelican/Russian Circles school and is informed by some regional influence, while the preceding 10-minute wailer “Cim i Tomba” comes on swinging and big in tone, a kind of urgent lurch setting the backdrop for a wah barrage. Yeah and that’s like in 40 seconds, so it’s quite the journey to be undertaken when you really go along with it.
That said, the central question with Les Efímeres doesn’t seem to me to be about how far out the band can go and still be able to keep a song together — “Cim i Tomba” has more sprawl in the ensuing 10 minutes than some careers can claim — but how far is the listener willing to go to meet them. This is where the quieter stretches like “El Vol” at the introduction or “A Flor d’Aigua” before “La Dansa de les Efímeres: Part 2” jams melancholy on the way to opening up a maw of fuzz that’s surely large enough swallow the album in its entirety but nonetheless and that maybe it does since the brief outro “El Dol” drops to minimal, almost new-agey drone, rising to a volume that’s still pretty low compared to, say, the shimmer, jangle and thrust of “La Sala dels Miralls” earlier on, but that is enough to give a sense of dynamic just the same, and it’s telling that even at We Are Impala‘s stillest, they retain some feeling of restlessness.
But restless doesn’t always mean chaotic. We Are Impala have enough control over what they show here to convey intention — that is, the songs don’t sound haphazard or lazy or unconsidered; the album was recorded live but it doesn’t feel made up on the spot in its entirety — but they’re not without their sense of challenge and they’re not dumbing down their exploration to capitulate to some imaginary-in-the-first-place notion of accessibility. Rather, the complexity of Les Efímeres‘ course front-to-back is one of the aspects most encouraging in terms of repeat listens as well — they’re not the first or by any means alone in the sphere of modern heavy prog-psych to deliver more to the active rather than casual listener — and though one might still come out the other end of the LP with questions like, “is that keyboard or guitar under the lead line late in ‘Contra la Tirania del Domèstic’ and what does it say about me that I’m asking?,” it is a healthy and refreshing plunge to take, cerebral but not at the expense of the passion that made them start playing in the first place. And tonally alive.
Album credits and more info follow beneath the embed below, courtesy of the PR wire, as well as live dates hoisted from socials.
Please enjoy:
We Are Impala, “Contra la Tirania del Domèstic” track premiere
Barcelona’s four piece We Are Impala are a whirlwind of fierce improvisers and odd-time signature players who love to explore new sonic structures. The ensemble blends the uncompromising heaviness of noise making with a distinctly savoir-faire rooted upon the Mediterranean way of living
Now with a freshly renewed formation and heading all the efforts into their third full-length assault Les Efímeres, a fractal dialogue between abrasive guitar outbursts and endless grooves within an ecstatic pace. This will be their third and most ambitious full-length up to date, running across 50 minutes long divided into 8 tracks.
The songs were boldly captured live and mixed by reputed catalan engineer Santi Garcia at Ultramarinos Costa Brava Studios, in the vibrant seaside town of Sant Feliu de Guíxols. Victor Garcia did an impeccable work mastering the album at Ultramarinos Mastering Barcelona and preserving all the natural chemistry, efficacy and dynamics of the original sessions.
The record will be released on all streaming platforms on 14th February 2025.
Limited 2xLP and CD releases through Jetglow Recordings.
Here’s the complete tracklist:
1. El Vol 2. Cim i Tomba 3. Contra la Tirania del Domèstic 4. La Sala dels Miralls 5. La Dansa de les Efímeres: Part I 6. A Flor d’Aigua 7. La Dansa de les Efímeres: Part II 8. El Dol
All songs written and performed by We Are Impala Recorded live and mixed by Santi Garcia at Ultramarinos Costa Brava Mastered by Victor Garcia at Ultramarinos Mastering Barcelona Photography by Albert-Martínez-López Artwork by We Are Impala
WE ARE IMPALA – LES EFÍMERES 2025 📍21.02. Madrid + Alber Jupiter | @elperroclubmad 📍22.02. Castelló + Alber Jupiter | @becausepopnroll 📍14.03. Barcelona + TBC | @salavol 📍29.03. Canet de Mar + TBC | Jardí de Villaflora
We Are Impala is: Xevi Strings: Electric guitar Jon Ander Soto Corral: Drums and percussions Mauro Pinto Risco: Electric bass Albert Martínez-López: Electric guitar
Set to release Jan. 31, Into the Emerald is the second full-length from Cádiz, Spain, heavy progressive rockers Surya. The 44-minute seven-songer creates a feeling of sprawl over its runtime, arranged as it is across two vinyl sides, each one working shortest to longest. That puts the album intro “Evergreen River” (1:28) and side A capper/tracklist-centerpiece “Beyond Eyes of Gold” (8:56) not so much in opposition, but makes the latter’s shimmer, warmth of tone, and fluid modern-heavy-prog realizations, the layered vocals of guitarist Antonio Hierro and drummer Carlos Camisón, feel like the destination through which “A Blazing Crusade” (3:43) and “Through the Stone” (4:14) traveled.
And as the band lead the listener across the first of the two included mini-journeys on Into the Emerald — which is the follow-up to 2019’s Overthrown (review here), released by a consortium headed by Spinda Records — headed toward the more densely riffed instrumental payoff of “Beyond Eyes of Gold,” which crescendos thick and then adds breadth in strum and solo, Hierro, Camisón, bassist Jose Mª Zapata and guitarist Jose Moares correspondingly bring a new sense of discovery to side B, beginning with “Arrows” (3:41, premiering below), which puts Camisón in the lead vocal role apparently for the first time.
He soars in a way that makes me think it won’t be the last instance in which the tradeoff is made, and even while “Arrows” doesn’t necessarily represent the entirety of Into the Emerald, it’s consistent in tone and purpose and is a look at what they’ll potentially be exploring over their next however-many records. “The Clashing” (6:20), with a guitar progression that feels specificallyElderian, refines a heavy rock thrust in its verse with twisting lead flourish, and has room in its second half for a subdued divergence before aligning on the chugging, rolling groove and the crash with which it resolves ahead of “Shields at the Dawn Forest” (15:49), which unfolds with a grace toward which both sides of the record up to that point are revealed as building.
Guest organ from Koe Casas peppers the finale, thereby letting the four-piece commune all the more with progressive heavy rock and its contemporary affinity for classic elements. Riffing out heavy psych-style in the spirit of Samsara Blues Experiment, and as they have been all along, Surya are song-first, exploration-first, and though its unfolding is patient, “Shields at Dawn Forest” never loses its direction or becomes anything other than the culmination it was clearly intended to be, and the band earn bonus points for weirding out a bit with dual vocals and some nascent quirk before they take off with the speedier procession in the piece’s back third, an electric solo section giving over to more serene acoustic pluck and strum to close. This is a tie-in vibe-wise with “Evergreen River,” and leads one to wonder if the organic sound isn’t mirrored thematically in a lyrical narrative further portraying some kind of struggle.
That’s info I don’t have, but while Into the Emerald catches Surya at a seemingly transitional moment — lest we forget that change is the order of the universe for all of us — it stands on its own as well and converses fluidly with the greater European underground in a way that reminds a bit of Maragda‘s 2024 outing, Tyrants, while staying a little rawer in energy and grounded on the structural balance. Spain having long been relegated to second-class citizenship in said sphere, Surya present themselves as ambassadors in showcasing some of the regional stylistic aspects while embarking on a sound that draws influence from multiple sources and crafts it into something of their own. They’re growing, and one hopes they’ll continue to grow with the kind of adventurousness on offer in Into the Emerald.
“Arrows” streams on the player below, and the band were kind enough to offer some comment on the song thereafter.
Please enjoy:
Surya on Into the Emerald:
We are exploring new sounds, trying to get heavier and more complex with these new songs. Also, we found out that Carlos, our drummer, sings really well, and “Arrows” is the first time ever that he does lead vocals for a song, and we hope the first of many. We are not forgetting where we come from, but we just wanted to make the music we would like to hear.
‘Into the Emerald’ tracklisting: 1. Evergreen River 2. A Blazing Crusade 3. Through the Stone 4. Beyond Eyes of Gold 5. Arrows 6. The Clashing 7. Shields at the Dawn Forest
Recorded at Metropol Studios and Estudio 79 by Rafa Camisón Mixing – Rafa Camisón (Estudio 79) Mastering – Víctor García (Ultramarinos Mastering) Artwork and logo – Nacho Fernández-Trujillo
Surya are: Antonio Hierro – Electric guitar and vocals Carlos Camisón – Drums and vocals Jose Mª Zapata – Bass Jose Moares – Electric guitar and acoustic guitar *Koe Casas – Organ and electric piano (on Shields at the Dawn Forest)
Posted in Reviews on December 9th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Welcome to the Quarterly Review. Oh, you were here last time? Me too. All door prizes will be mailed to winning parties upon completion of, uh, everything, I guess?
Anywhazzle, the good news is this week is gonna have 50 releases covered between now — the 10 below — and the final batch of 10 this Friday. I’m trying to sneak in a bunch of stuff ahead of year-end coverage, yes, but let the urgency of my doing so stand as testament to the quality of the music contained in this particular Quarterly Review. If I didn’t feel strongly about it, surely I’d find some other way to spend my time.
That said, let’s not waste time. You know the drill, I know the drill. Just don’t be surprised when some of the stuff you see here, today, tomorrow, and throughout the week, ends up in the Best of 2024 when the time comes. I have no idea what just yet, but for sure some of it.
We go.
Quarterly Review #1-10:
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Gnome, Vestiges of Verumex Visidrome
Some bands write songs for emotional catharsis. Some do it to make a political statement. Gnome‘s songs feel specifically — and expertly — crafted to engage an audience, and their third full-length, Vestiges of Verumex Visidrome, underscores the point. Hooks like “Old Soul” and “Duke of Disgrace” offer a self-effacing charm, where elsewhere the Antwerp trio burn through hot-shit riffing and impact-minded slam metal with a quirk that, if you’ve caught wind of the likes of Rickshaw Billie’s Burger Patrol or Howling Giant in recent years, should fit nicely among them while finding its own sonic niche in being able to, say, throw a long sax solo on second cut “The Ogre” or veer into death growls for the title line of “Rotten Tongue” and others. They make ‘party riff metal’ sound much easier to manifest than it probably is, and the reason their reputation precedes them at this point goes right back to the songwriting. They hit hard, they get in, get out, it’s efficient when it wants to be but can still throw a curve with the stop and pivot in “Rotten Tongue,” running a line between punk and stoner, rock and metal, your face and the floor. It might actually be too enjoyable for some, but the funk they bring here is infectious. They make the riffs dance, and everything goes from there.
The lone studio track “Breathe” serves as the reasoning behind Hermano‘s first new release since 2007’s …Into the Exam Room (discussed here), and actually predates that still-latest long-player by some years. Does it matter? Yeah, sort of. As regards John Garcia‘s post-Kyuss career, Hermano both got fleshed out more than most (thinking bands like Unida and Slo Burn, even Vista Chino, that didn’t get to release three full-lengths in their time), and still seemed to fade out when there was so much potential ahead of them. If “Breathe” doesn’t argue in favor of this band giving it the proverbial “one more go,” perhaps the live version of “Brother Bjork” (maybe the same one featured on 2005’s Live at W2?) and a trio of cuts captured at Hellfest in 2016 should do the trick nicely. They’re on fire through “Senor Moreno’s Plan,” “Love” and “Manager’s Special,” with Garcia, Dandy Brown, David Angstrom, Chris Leathers and Mike Callahan treating Clisson to a reminder of why they’re the kind of band who might get to build an entire EP around a leftover studio track — because that studio track, and the band more broadly, righteously kick their own kind of ass. What would a new album be like?
Almost on a per-song basis, Stahv — the mostly-solo brainchild of multi-instrumentalist/vocalist Solomon Arye Rosenschein, here collaborating on production with John Getze of Ako-Lite Records — skewers and melds genres to create something new from their gooey remnants. On the opening title-track, maybe that’s a post-industrial Phil Collins set to dreamtime keyboard and backed by fuzzy drone. On “Lunar Haze,” it’s all goth ’80s keyboard handclaps until the chorus melody shines through the fog machine like The Beatles circa ’64. Yeah that’s right. And on “Bossa Supernova,” you bet your ass it’s bossa nova. “The Calling” reveals a rocker’s soul, where “Plainview” earlier on has a swing that might draw from The Birthday Party at its root (it also might not) but has its own sleek vibe just the same with a far-back, lo-fi buzz that somehow makes the melody sound better. “Aaskew” (sic) takes a hard-funkier stance musically but its outsider perspective in the lyrics is similar. The 1960s come back around in the later for “Circuit Crash” — it would have to be a song about the future — and “Leaving Light” seems to make fun of/celebrate (it can be both) that moment in the ’80s when everything became tropical. There’s worlds here waiting for ears adventurous enough to hear them.
I mean, look. The central question you really have to ask yourself is how mellow do you want to get? Do you think you can handle 12 minutes of “Transmigration?” Do you think you can be present in yourself through that cool-as-fuck, ultra-smooth psychedelic twist Space Shepherds pull off, barely three minutes into the the beginning of this seven-track, 71-minute pacifier to quiet the bad voices in your (definitely not my) brain. What’s up with that keyboard shuffle in “Celestial Rose” later on? I don’t know, but it rules. And when they blow it out in “Got Caught Dreaming?” Yeah, hell yeah, wake up! “Free Return” is a 15-minute drifter jam that gets funky in the back half (a phrase I’d like on a shirt) and you don’t wanna miss it! At the risk of spoiling it, I’ll tell you that the title-track, which closes, is absolutely the payoff it’s all asking for. If you’ve got the time to sit with it, and you can just sort of go where it’s going, Cycler is a trip begging to be taken.
It is all very big. All very grand, sweeping and poised musically, very modern and progressive and such — and immediately it has something if that’s what you’re looking for, which is super-doper, thanks — but if you dig into King Botfly‘s vocals, there’s a vulnerability there as well that adds an intimacy to all that sweep and plunges down the depths of the spacious mix’s low end. And I’m not knocking that part of it either. The Portsmouth, UK-based three-piece of guitarist/vocalist George Bell, bassist Luke Andrew and drummer Darren Draper, take on a monumental task in terms of largesse, and they hit hard when they want to, but there’s dynamic in it too, and both has an edge and doesn’t seem to go anywhere it does without a reason, which is a hard balance to strike. They sound like a band who will and maybe already have learned from this and will use that knowledge to move forward in an ongoing creative pursuit. So yes, progressive. Also tectonically heavy. And with heart. I think you got it. They’ll be at Desertfest London next May, and they sound ready for it.
Are Last Band a band? They sure sound like one. Founded by guitarists Pat Paul and Matt LeGrow (the latter also of Admiral Browning) upwards of 15 years ago, when they were less of an actual band, the Maryland-based outfit offer 13 songs of heavy alternative rock on The Sacrament in Accidents, with some classic metal roots shining through amid the harmonies of “Saffire Alice” and a denser thrust in “Season of Outrage,” a rush in the penultimate “Forty-Four to the Floor,” and so on, where the title-track is more of an open sway and “Lidocaine” is duly placid, and while the production is by no means expansive, the band convey their songs with intent. Most cuts are in the three-to-four-minute range, but “Blown Out” dips into psychedelic-gaze wash as the longest at 5:32 offset by comparatively grounded, far-off Queens of the Stone Age-style vocalizing in the last minute, which is an effective culmination. The material has range and feels worked on, and while The Sacrament in Accidents sounds raw, it hones a reach that feels true to a songwriting methodology evolved over time.
Debuting earlier this decade as a solo-project of Andrew Cox, Seattle’s Dream Circuit have built out to a four-piece for with Pennies for Your Life, which throughout its six-track/36-minute run sets a contemplative emotionalist landscape. Now completed by Anthony Timm, Cody Albers and Ian Etheridge, the band are able to move from atmospheric stretches of classically-inspired-but-modern-sounding verses into heavier tonality on a song like “Rosy” with fluidity that seems to save its sweep for when it counts. The title-track dares some shouts, giving some hint of a metallic underpinning, but that still rests well in context next to the sitar sounds of “Let Go,” which opens at 4:10 into its own organ-laced crush, emotionally satisfying. Imagine a post-heavy rock that’s still pretty heavy, and a dynamic that stretches across microgenres, and maybe that will give some starting idea. The last two tracks argue for efficiency in craft, but wherever Dream Circuit go on this sophomore release, they take their own route to get there.
“All is Light” is the first single from New Paltz bliss-drone meditationalist solo outfit Okkoto since 2022’s stellar and affirming Climb the Antlers and Reach the Stars (review here), and its seven minutes carry a similar scope to what one found on that album. To be clear, that’s a compliment. Interwoven threads of synth over methodical timekeeping drum sounds, wisps of airy guitar drawn together with other lead lines, keys or strings, create a flowing world around the vocals added by Michael Lutomski, also (formerly?) of heavy psych rockers It’s Not Night: It’s Space, the sole proprietor of the expanse. A lot of a given listener’s experience of Okkoto experience will depend on their own headspace, but if you have the time and attention — seven-plus minutes of active-but-not-too-active hearing recommended — but “All is Light” showcases the rare restorative aspects of Okkoto in a way that, if you can get to it, can make you believe, or at least escape for a little while.
Trappist Afterland, Evergreen: Walk to Paradise Garden
Underscored with a earth-rooted folkish fragility in the voice of Adam Geoffrey Cole (also guitar, cittern, tanpura, oud, synth, xylophone and something called a ‘dulcitar’), Melbourne’s Trappist Afterland are comfortably adventurous on this 10th full-length, Evergreen: Walk to Paradise Garden, which digs deeper into psych-drone on longest track “Cruciform/The Reincarnation of Kelly-Anne (Parts 1-3)” (7:55) while elsewhere digs into fare more Eastern-influenced-Western-traditional, largely based around guitar composition. With an assortment of collaborators coming and going, even this is enough for Cole and his seemingly itinerant company to create a sense of variety — the violin in centerpiece “Barefoot in Thistles” does a lot of work in that regard; ditto the squeezebox of opener “The Squall” — and while the arrangements don’t lack for flourish, the human expression is paramount, and the nine songs are serene unto the group vocal that caps in “You Are Evergreen,” which would seem to be placed to highlight its resonance, and reasonably so. As it’s Trappist Afterland‘s 10th album by their own count, it’s hardly a surprise they know what they’re about, but they do anyway.
For a band who went so far as to name themselves after a fuzz pedal, Spain’s Big Muff Brigade have more in common with traditional desert rock than the kind of tonal worship one might expect them to deliver. That landscape doesn’t account for their naming a song “Terre Haute,” seemingly after the town in Indiana — I’ve been there; not a desert — but fair enough for the shove of that track, which on Pi arrives just ahead of closer “Seasonal Affective Disorder,” which builds to a nonetheless-mellow payoff before its fadeout. Elsewhere, the seven-minute “Pierced by the Spear” drops Sleepy (and thus Sabbathian) references in the guitar ahead of creating a duly stonerly lumber before they even unfurl the first verse — a little more in keeping with the kind of riff celebration one might expect going in — but even there, the band maintain a thread of purposeful songcraft that can only continue to serve them as they move past this Argonauta-delivered debut and continued to grow. There is a notable sense of outreach here, though, and in writing to genre, Big Muff Brigade show both their love of what they do and a will to connect with likeminded audiences.
