Embroiled in an outbound interstellar thrust from pretty much the not-literally-said word ‘go’ on “Palim Palim,” Speck‘s debut album, Unkraut, takes a linear trajectory as it reels unbounded through the universe, undulating and careening as it goes. It’s not all raucous come-with-us antigrav thrust from the Vienna, Austria, three-piece, who released Unkraut on their own in 2021 and followed up with an issue through Tonzonen in 2022, but Patrick Säuerl‘s drums enact a vitality on “Palim Palim,” not quite the neo-space metal of Slift or King Gizzard or whichever big modern psych act you want to name, and more rooted in the European heavy underground of the last 20-plus years, with bassist Lisa Winkelmüller doing fretruns around the intermittent solo divergences of guitarist Marcel Cultrera — aware of and willing to be adjacent to heavy psychedelia as a genre — but as they hit the brakes going into the brief comedown “II” after “Palim Palim,” a grand mellowing that picks up in tempo around the guitar in jammy style before the halfway point and builds up from there to a noisy crescendo and is brought down again, the movement is no less fluid.

Ebbs and flows should be nothing new to those with any familiarity to instrumental heavy music, but as they seem to be making efforts to distinguish their approach from the history and methods of krautrock — at least that’s what I get from Unkraut as a title; if that interpretation is off, I’d love to be gently informed in a comment — what’s letting them do that most of all is the showcase of raw chemistry in the sound of the 37-minute outing’s five component tracks. It’s a difficult niche to pin down, as the likes of Hawkwind, Colour Haze, Earthless or Sula Bassana (with whom Cultrera now collaborates in Minerall) could be cited as influences depending on a given moment, whether it’s the space rock call to prayer in the strum of the centerpiece title-track or the subsequent “Firmament,” which is no less expansive in reach but is much quieter as it goes about its exploratory business. That pair, “Unkraut” and “Firmament,” echo the dynamic between “Palim Palim” and “II,” in being a more active piece followed by something comparatively less of a push, but as “Unkraut” caps its blowout finish — an apex for the album that closer “Megachonk ∞” answers by riding a full-go groove for most of its eight minutes — and “Firmament” sets itself to answering back, the line they draw from one side to the other of their sound is longer and the music accordingly broader in scope.

To wit, where “II” is the shortest inclusion at 4:50 and tied to a build structure despite being executed organically enough that if you told me it was an unplotted jam and the band had no idea where they were headed when they picked up their instruments and hit record, it would be believable. I don’t know that that is or isn’t the case, but the way “Firmament” — which like the rest of the songs is just a little over eight minutes long — delves deeper into subdued, meditative psychedelics, it doesn’t have that payoff. After “Unkraut,” “Firmament” subtly hypnotizes almost before the listener understands what has happened; its quiet outset emerges smoothly from the comedown of the title-track and reroutes from the expected path of another ‘heavier’ stretch by simply doing something else. Crazy, right? I know, but it works all the more because it puts “Megachonk ∞,” which even seems to have a little bit of vocals snuck into its procession, where that payoff might otherwise be. To (hopefully) make it clear: “Firmament” ends up complementing the song after it as much as the song before it precisely because it doesn’t lose the plot. If one thinks of “Palim Palim” and “II” as a kind of encapsulated demonstration for the movement across “Unkraut,” “Firmament” and “Megachonk ∞,” it’s kind of like that in listening, but that doesn’t account for “Unkraut” being on side A of the vinyl edition.

Neither does it invalidate the impression, especially for those taking Unkraut on digitally, say, via the stream above. This hill-before-a-mountain character suits the fluidity of Speck‘s material overall, and the nuance they bring to it in the rhythmic warmth and the sense of purpose that emerges from the changes and how they’re made give the album an individual persona within a well-established style. By the time they’re two or three minutes into “Megachonk ∞,” they’ve made their intention pretty clear in carrying forward a shove to the finish. There’s a momentary break for some far-off echoing semi-spoken vocals, almost egging the instruments on, or maybe the listener, some grunts in there, but the instrumental kickback is quick to arrive and sweeps to the wammy-inclusive screaming peak of “”Megachonk ∞” that gives over when it’s good and ready to the residual noise that provides a satisfying wash at the end. The sense that the band could just keep going is palpable, but that they don’t, that they keep it relatively brief and in prime LP length, demonstrates a control and restraint on their sound that only further speaks to the purposefulness behind what Unkraut does.

Did it reinvent krautrock? I wouldn’t be the one to ask, but it is decidedly other from it while touching on its methods and modus. But the relatively straightforward arrangements — there are plenty of effects throughout but so far as I know Speck don’t delve into the world of keyboards let alone vintage-worship or anything like that — keep a human cure in these songs, and that grounds them as well, as much as they’re grounded at all. Speck have continued to progress along these lines over the last couple years, in their 2023 split with Interkosmos (review here), second full-length, Eine Gute Reise, and participation in earlier-2024’s International Space Station Vol. 2 (review here) four-way split at the behest of Worst Bassist Records, and nothing they’ve done to this point has shown any signs of their growth slowing. Amid a generational turnover in the heavy underground, Speck‘s Unkraut presents a fresh perspective and, crucially, an immersive plunge for the listener to take. To close, I’ll note that I didn’t fully appreciate how much Speck had to offer until I saw them live at this past summer’s Freak Valley Festival (review here), of which their set was an absolute highlight. A band to catch if you can make it happen.

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

—

Hey, it’s the first Friday Full-Length in, what, four weeks? Turns out I still do this. I had to wonder for a minute if I’d ever get it back on track. Last Friday was my daughter’s birthday, as I noted last weekend, and the two Fridays prior were in an ongoing Quarterly Review, so yeah, I guess this would’ve been four weeks without one if I let it slip. Rest assured this brought about an existential crisis. Who even am I if I don’t spend my Friday morning clacking away on the laptop keyboard about some record I probably should’ve written up years ago? Fortunately that’s not a question I’ll need to answer this week.

Last night was Halloween. Holy smokes. First we had the Halloween parade at The Pecan’s school. For that one, she wore the black hole costume her grandmother made — black shirt and pants, with a hula hoop covered in fiery-looking fabric she could wear around her for an accretion disk — and of course that won the prize for the best costume in her grade. The Patient Mrs. and I ended up being dragged into a video the principal of the school made — it’ll come in an email, if I can link it here I will; no doubt it will be hilarious — before the parade actually even happened. Then all the classes came out and did the parade around the blacktop behind the school while the corresponding adults made fools of ourselves gaggling at the children. So it goes. The good news is it was 80 degrees and sunny. The bad news is that means the world is ending.

Then we got home. Costume change from black hole to Link from Breath of the Wild — blue tunic — for The Pecan. She saw a kid last weekend at the neighborhood Halloween parade — parents have invented ways to use a costume more than once in the time since I was a kid; it is strange and I’m pretty sure my daughter’s generation will decide it’s not worth it — dressed as Link with a Master Sword and shield and just about lost her mind. Couldn’t take her eyes off it. We ended up driving last Saturday afternoon to Edgewater, NJ, like 50 minutes, to a Party City to buy the sword and shield, and The Patient Mrs. was able to secure a costume, plus acceptable boots, from the internet in time for the day itself.

The plan was to go with a group of her friends from Girl Scouts who live in the neighborhood — there are like six or seven of them — and we’d end up doing that, but a friend of The Patient Mrs.’ was coming along for the hell of it and when she got to the house, the dog got out. So here I go sprinting down the road — thankfully not out to 202, which is like 100 feet the other way and as a four-lane road would be certain death for the dog — calling “Tilly come!” at the top of my panicked lungs. Again. Electric fences cost thousands of dollars, I’m sorry. A neighbor came out of her house. The dog had stopped her own sprint at the edge of this woman’s property and Tilly loves people so much that all the lady had to do was say, “Hello puppy!” and Tilly ran over to meet her. Tilly had seemed like she had enough at that point — it’s just not letting her get out of sight and get lost in the interim; also not letting her get runover — anyway and took the bellyrubs while waiting for me to hobble over and get her. I was glad I did. We do our best not to keep the door open, but the dog is wiggly and dumb and surprisingly fast for being a mix of two lap breeds; shih-tzu and bichon friese. She’s 16 months old now.

Then we had to go trick-or-treating, meeting up with the Girl Scout group up the hill. The roads were busier with cars than one might’ve expected, but it was ultimately fine. Some of the parents brought shots and whatever in their water bottles, The Patient Mrs. had a couple drinks in hers; I ate a gummy before we went out and was well stoned by the time it got dark. The Pecan got tired around 7:30 and was flailing in the road as cars passed by — you should’ve seen the moms diving after her; noble in their intentions, but the more you drag The Pecan one way, the more she’ll push back into the middle of the street; keep a respectful distance and offer verbal reminders if you want to exert even limited control the situation, which you probably don’t actually need to do because even out-of-control-tired Pecan knows where she belongs and will get there, whatever heart attacks she provides along the way; “I got it,” I said as I followed her on a jaunt further down the road ahead of the group near the end of the night, and sure enough, I had it; check the perimeter and direction of momentum in any situation — so we turned around and headed back to the car with her fine selection of candy in the traditional Halloween bucket that holds fidgets the rest of the year. She came home, had a Tootsie Roll or two and was ready for a slice of pizza and bed. She kept the costume on while she watched Zelda fan theories on YouTube, and nobody was up late. It was a lot going with the group, but I’m glad the kid has friends — she’s definitely the weird one, and I expect she’ll continue to be — and she got to spend time with them doing fun, not-school-related stuff.

We had our parent-teacher conference this week, for which I was pointedly not stoned. She’s killing it in first grade, her teacher loves her, and she’s a joy to have in class. Considering where we were a year ago at this time, I feel justified in the tears of joy I shed. She’s an amazing kid — right now she’s got the Master Sword and is dancing from couch to couch; I was a blacksmith and tempered the sword; neither The Patient Mrs. nor I are particularly thrilled about introducing weapons-play to the house — and beginning to see the world around her in ways that she previously couldn’t. I have no idea what the next year will bring and wouldn’t embarrass myself by trying to predict. My experience of parenting has been a rollercoaster with the lowest lows and some of the highest highs I’ve ever had. I expect we’ll keep busy, one way or the other.

I could go on here, but this post is long enough, and if you’re still reading, thanks. Kid’s got off from school today for the Hindu holiday Diwali — the town we live in is a big South Asian enclave; it is a strength of the community and the food is amazing — and she had half-days most of this week for conferences, so I expect Monday will be something of a harsh return to reality, but we’ve got the weekend first and that’ll be plenty. Whatever you’re up to, I hope you have a great time and stay safe. Thanks again for reading, don’t forget to hydrate, and I’ll see you back on Monday for more.

FRM.

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[Click play above to stream International Space Station Vol. 2 in full. The split is out Aug. 20 on Worst Bassist, Weird Beard and Echodelick Records.]

In addition to being the most expensive thing ever built, the International Space Station is the most resounding proof ever manifest of the potential for what humanity can accomplish when we, in even momentary or compartmentalized fashion, put aside our differences and genuinely collaborate. Human potential, circling the planet above our heads every 90 minutes or so. Worst Bassist Records (Germany/EU), working in conjunction with Weird Beard Records (UK) and Echodelick Records (US), offers the second installment of its split series, International Space Station Vol. 2, both in tribute and in some of the same cooperative spirit. Like its 2022 predecessor, International Space Station Vol. 1 (review here), the assemblage features four bands, including the Americans Verstärker, from Kentucky, as well as Kombynat Robotron (from Germany), Speck (from Austria) and Sarkh (from Germany). It’s not quite the same as Europe, Russia, Canada and America spending billions of dollars to construct the ISS itself, module by module, but as one would hope, each band brings something of their own to the overarching scope of International Space Station Vol. 2, while keeping to the abiding space rock theme, in essence if not necessarily genre tropes. It’s cosmic one way or the other, to be sure.

As with Vol. 1, each band on Vol. 2 is given a side to work with to make a full 72-minute 2LP. Verstärker lead off and bring the first of the split’s delves into krautrock across “Weltraumtraum” (12:16) and “Kvant” (5:46), the latter of which is an immersive, multi-tiered drone that gradually emerges from the second half of “Weltraumtraum.” The two are likewise exploratory, if in different ways, as the first cut starts out with a more urgent gallop on drums and a bassline that keeps it cool but still moves, guitar feeling out the spaces in the swirl. A boogie takes hold until about four and a half minutes in, where the change marked by a stop of drums leads to a heavier outbound thrust. About force more than escape velocity, the next two minutes of push give over to mellower bassy jamming and guitar effects floating overhead, a little ghostly, but there. The drums keep the tension so that when “Weltraumtraum” starts to build back up it makes sense, and even after the crescendo, until just about 10 minutes in, the drums hold out amid the residual synth and guitar echoes. Once they go, it’s the sci-fi drone of “Kvant” all the way — an initial and not at all last hypnotic stretch as International Space Station Vol. 2 broadens its reach.

Kombynat Robotron bring a reset at the start of their lone inclusion “Montan” (15:31) and answer the proggy flow of Verstärker‘s longer piece with an easy movement of their own. Shimmering guitar over a krautrock groove probably shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone familiar with the band, this split series, or the style more generally, but Kombynat Robotron bring a Yawning–Man-in-space sensibility to the guitar work and subtle gotta-go of the rhythm. A crash and stop at five minutes in marks the divergence from where they’ve been to where they’re going, which is to a more actively swirling solo section, with crash cymbal adding to the build as they move further into the maybe-improvised unknown. Howls and wails circa 8:20 preface a pickup in the toms, and the Kiel trio carry their procession in willfully, increasingly noisy style across its back half, such that when it ends with a feedbackscape, it makes sense, feeling all the more vibrant and nebular in their fusing of elements. As the only band with one song here — everyone else does a long one and a short one, like Verstärker — Kombynat Robotron still use their time well to emphasize performance as well as exploration. “Montan” is duly massive as a result.

The immediate impression when Speck set forth with “Flaniergang” (16:03), with “Bes, So Bes” (4:29) following, is cleaner in tone, but it’s the urging motion of the drums that is most consuming. Accompanied by a bassline one might be tempted to call “solid” were it not so utterly liquefied, the drums mark out the path the song will take and give everybody — yes, including you — the chance to get on board before the real takeoff. That comes shortly after three minutes in as the guitar comes forward and the groove opens up with chugging interstellar build. Hints of heavy psych melodicism persist in the guitar, and that’ll do quite nicely, thank you, but Speck bring the proceedings back down for a quick refueling ahead of the next launch, which comes in short order. It’s not the last either — they sneak in a third redirect in the last two minutes that makes “Flaniergang” even more exciting, capping with feedback that leads directly into the cymbal wash of “Bes, So Bes,” a slow-rolling improv-feeling jaunt into low gravity that isn’t shapeless but which is clear in its less-rigid structure, and at this point in the split, calling something “less rigid” is really saying something.

Given the unenviable task of rounding out the final of the 2LP’s four sides, Sarkh flip the script and put the shorter song first, topping “Helios” (6:17) with a sample in its early going and sweeping in with heavier tones and some of the post-metallic expanse they’ve established as well within their reach. By the time they’re three minutes in, “Helios” is crushing and sprawling in kind, and they continue to set airy post-rock guitar against what in context sounds downright pummeling as the song churns to its purposeful ending, a stretch of low hum making the transition between “Helios” and the concluding “Cape Wrath” (11:37). Terrestrial, if not cavernous in its sound, and once again, remarkably heavy, “Cape Wrath” turns from the patterned riff that begins it, drops the drums and resets for a breath around ambient guitar, and thereby sets out on one big, last build, the payoff of which is your explanation for why Sarkh appear last on International Space Station Vol. 2 — once you go in the black hole, there’s no getting back out. It’s okay though, because as gravitational as they get, Sarkh retain enough presence and intentionality to bring “Cape Wrath” to a close with a change to sparse standalone guitar, not unlike that which set out that build to begin with.

And really, who knows where or when that was. On the cosmic-web-defined, impossible-to-comprehend-by-our-bacteria-brains scales of time and space in the universe, International Space Station and the structure that inspired the series in the first are — like everything else human beings have ever done and likely will ever do — small achievements, but they share that aspect of realized potential, and like the different sections of the ISS being assembled in orbit some 255 miles above the surface of the planet, each band’s material adds to the complexity of what’s portrayed by the whole, which is a fresh, multidimensional space rock that speaks no less to an optimistic future. The eons-long course of civilization’s history has wrought little that is more worth celebrating, and International Space Station Vol. 2 feels suitably reverent.

Verstärker on Facebook

Verstärker on Instagram

Verstärker on Bandcamp

Kombynat Robotron on Facebook

Kombynat Robotron on Instagram

Kombynat Robotron on Bandcamp

Speck on Facebook

Speck on Instagram

Speck on Bandcamp

Sarkh on Facebook

Sarkh on Instagram

Sarkh on Bandcamp

Worst Bassist Records on Facebook

Worst Bassist Records on Instagram

Worst Bassist Records on Bandcamp

Worst Bassist Records website

Echodelick Records on Facebook

Echodelick Records on Instagram

Echodelick Records on Bandcamp

Echodelick Records website

Weird Beard Records on Facebook

Weird Beard Records on Bandcamp

Weird Beard Records store

I know I’ve said this before, but I continue to believe there’s something extra rad about a four-way split. Two, generally pretty cool, but often leads to a sense of one band competing with the other or at least a tendency on the part of the listener to compare them, which is just the same thing from the other side. Three, well fine as long as you don’t have any intention toward vinyl. But a four-way 2LP split breaks up in a satisfying way, as everybody gets to showcase their aural wares on their own side, and there’s usually enough breadth of personality between the four bands that the listener is more inclined to take everything as it comes. As Worst Bassist Records showed with three first installment of the four-way split series International Space Station (review here) in 2022, ‘take it as it comes’ is precisely the best way to go in hearing it.

Jointly released through Weird Beard Records in the UK and Echodelick Records in the US, and I believe available to preorder from all of them, International Space Station Vol. 2 once again brings together an intercontinental assemblage in Verstärker (from the US, despite the maybe-misleading umlaut), Kombynat Robotron and Sarkh (from Germany), and Speck (from Austria), and everybody but Kombynat Robotron already has a song streaming. And Kombynat Robotron aren’t being jerks or holdouts or whathaveyou, but they’ve only got one song on their side. Fair enough up keep it under wraps for now.

If you do want to hear that — and we both know you do — come back Aug. 19, as I’ll be streaming the album in full that day with what I’m sure will be a duly slobbering review full of obscure Star Trek references and cosmic buzzwords picked up from the PBS S0ace Time science videos my daughter watches with ironically religious fervor. So it’ll be awesome, in other words.

For now, art, info and copious linkage follow. Engage:

The long awaited vol. 2 of the Intrernational Space Station arrives!

2-LP in a fat gatefold cover, colored wax, limited to 500
LP 1: orange wax
LP 2: blue wax
CD in digisleeve lim. 100

Four international bands (Verstärker, Kombynat Robotron, Speck, Sarkh) contributing 1 LP side each, instrumental, about how to watch the ISS crossing their skies from time to time… or being overwhelmed by the rough beauty of the ocean…

Long and psychedelic tracks pulsating through space and try to follow the way of the space station around our globe and even beyond, to contribute you the opportunity to travel through your inner cosmosis while listening, only interrupted by the needle lifting, which could just be some stops at random interstellar stations, to release and gain passengers.

2-LP in a fat gatefold cover, colored wax, limited to 500
LP 1: orange wax
LP 2: blue wax

Out via Worst Bassist (DE+World), Echodelick (USA) and Weird Beird (UK)
August 20th 2024
Comes with Download Code

CD out via Worst Bassist on Aug. 20th.

Verstärker

Verstärker from Kentucky, USA, play monotonic motorik sound, surrounded by soundscapes and beautiful noise.

Groove, shifts, scapes, beauty, intensity, it’s all there.

Kombynat Robotron

Germany’s high flying neo-krautrockers continue on side B with their floating and dynamic longtrack.

Speck

Side C kicks off with Austria’s instrumental psychedelic mantra jammers Speck, who created a journey through mind and space until…

Sarkh

… the ISS takes another turn over Germany and brings you a force of nature to end all this, with side D.

You’ll be torn apart and re-built again through the heavy and yet delightful instrumentals.

1. Verstärker – Weltraumtraum
2. Verstärker – Kvant
3. Kombynat Robotron – Montan
4. Speck – Flaniergang
5. Speck – Bes, so bes
6. Sarkh – Helios
7. Sarkh – Cape Wrath

https://www.facebook.com/verstarker
http://instagram.com/verstarker/
https://verstarker.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/KombynatRobotron
https://www.instagram.com/kombynat_robotron
https://kombynatrobotron.bandcamp.com/

http://www.facebook.com/speckspeckspeck
http://www.instagram.com/speck_speck_speck
https://speckspeckspeck.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/SarkhWorship/
https://www.instagram.com/sarkh.evolve
https://sarkh.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/worstbassistrecords
https://www.instagram.com/worst.bassist.records
https://worstbassistrecords.bandcamp.com/
https://www.worstbassist.com/

https://www.facebook.com/ERECORDSATL
https://www.instagram.com/echodelickrecords/
https://echodelickrecords.bandcamp.com/
https://www.echodelickrecords.com/

https://www.facebook.com/WeirdBeardRecs/
https://weirdbeardrecs.bandcamp.com/
https://theweirdbeard.bigcartel.com/

Various Artists, International Space Station Vol. 2 (2024)

At the Fest Grounds

Rain’s back on early in the day. I forewent Doom Yoga and hotel breakfast in favor of sleeping an extra hour. Time will tell on that choice. My head is swimming in last-day logistics; how I’m getting back to the hotel tonight, how and when I’m getting to Frankfurt Airport tomorrow, on and on. So yes, wet and scatterbrained. One or the other would be enough on its own. Poncho may yet make an appearance.

A few people have asked how my mother is doing. First, thank you for reading. I feel like I’ve transposed the haphazardly way this trip ended up being undertaken onto a kind of overarching mania of the experience, but one way or the other, it’s still restorative. She’s recovering from having her knee replaced on Wednesday, is walking, had started physical therapy. These things are months in the healing, but she’s strong and inspiring.

Though it shows little sign of it at the moment, the rain is supposed to stop this afternoon. We’ll see. I was sitting before the start of the show in the smoking tent; the wafting of joint smoke inexplicably cut with tobacco as is the method. Not my thing. I barely had the batteries in the camera when Volker took the stage and it was time to roll, so take that, last-day blues. Good thing my new Freak Valley hoodie is warm.

Sorry in advance for the typos.

—

Splinter

Thank you to Splinter for being the day’s reminder that everything’s okay when the music starts. The Netherlands based classic-heavy four-piece fronted by Douwe Truijens had the Hammond, the boogie, enough sleaze in some of their lyrics to feel like a #metoo waiting to happen (looking at you, “Soviet Schoolgirl,” et al), but there’s no denying the life in their performance. Rain pouring down on the early crowd, Truijens was nonetheless on fire strutting and dancing around the stage with moves drawn from an arena-ready playbook, plus shorty-shorts for the last song because when you’re doing a thing, you go for it. They were tight in addition to putting on a show, and “Every Circus Needs a Clown” from last year’s Role Models (review here) was a highlight in presentation and from-speaker force to go with the conceptual foundation of what they do. That is to say, they’re a band with a plan. And that’s not a negative at all. The songs are catchy and uptempo, fun if you can get on board with euphemism, and it’s over-the-top in just the way it’s supposed to be. Echoing the energetic start of yesterday, pushing it further, Splinter made a field on a cold, rainy afternoon feel like a sweaty nightclub, and for that, one can only be grateful.

Gravy Jones

Uh oh, I think I might dig this band. Another full-size Hammond on stage, cult-ish, classic-ish riffy vibe. I recall digging the Norwegian four-piece’s 2018 debut, Funeral Pyre (review here), for the quirk it brought to genre tropes, but the apparently-don’t-do-this-all-the-time outfit were more cohesive on stage, solid in groove, hinting or maybe more with that organ toward retroist dark-boogie, and on point in the interplay of the keys and guitar. The bluesy but not caricature vocals specifically reminded me of Buffalo, but if Gravy Jones only want you for your body, they’re almost certainly nefarious in that intent. At least some of what they played was taken from an impending follow-up to Funeral Pyre, as was announced from the stage, and wherever/whenever, I take that as good news in terms of such a thing existing at all. Because I just might end up a fan of this band. You know how that happens? Hear a thing. “Oh that’s cool.” Six years pass. You see them. “Oh shit that’s cool.” It was kind of like that watching them close out with “Mountains of Madness.” If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got anything going at the merch.

Deathchant

My prevailing impression of L.A.’s Deathchant holds firm from seeing them last August at SonicBlast in Portugal (review here), and to save you the time following that link, I’ll just say it’s thar they kick ass. Two guitars that can lean into Thin Lizzy harmonies or thrash out at will, doomly in the title-track of Thrones, which they released last Fall, but gnarly and ripping at any speed, it’s like they play both the Heavy and the Metal sides of heavy metal, but they’re not doing some bullshit disaffected-white-dude aggro thing either. They get on stage, hit it, and groove with tonal presence regardless of a given part’s intensity, drawing from metal and rock on the way, charged and precise, but not so clear in sound as to lose their edge. Perhaps they’re subject to the perils of the band in-between, when it comes to style: too metal for some rockers, too rock for some metallers, but shit, I like bands who don’t fit (also bands who do; in no way does it have to be one or the other, remember), and they played a yet-untitled shouty new song and decided on the spot to call it “Freak Valley.” It ruled and I hope they keep the name. They should probably also have six or seven live records out by now, by rights. I’ll hope to see them again at Desertfest New York later this year.

Mouth

It didn’t take Mouth long to reroute the momentum from Deathchant’s raw Motõrheaded thrust to suit their proggier psychedelic purposes, and the sun came out for them, which can only be called appropriate. I did some liner notes recently for their Vortex Redux semi-reissue LP, and well, I’ll tell you truly, they’re not a band I ever really expected to see live. I mean, it’s a universe of infinite possibility, right? So a thing always could happen, but that doesn’t mean it will. And they were so much fun. Into the music, not trying to convince you that being on stage and playing their songs isn’t the most fun thing in the world. A positive vibe, energy front to back. There was one point where guitarist/vocalist Christian Koller went on his back on the stage while playing a solo and all I could think about was how much of John Dwyer’s dried-up spit from last night must be on there, but beyond that, not a worry in the world while watching them, and their affinities for ’60s psych, ’70s prog and multiple eras of heavy rock came through with poise and passion alike. The keyboard and snare jabs in “Into the Lines” and the slew of builds throughout were exciting and well crafted, and they put everything they had into the show. They weren’t a surprise for me, but it’s kind of a relief sometimes when you see a band you’ve followed for a while and they validate the reasons you liked them in the first place. Mouth did that and improved the weather. That’s a high point in any day.

Black River Delta

Swedish mellow heavy blues rock. Oldschool in ideology, modern in tone. It always takes me a second to stop listening for the stoner to show up when Freak Valley breaks out the bluesier stuff, but Black River Delta did well in the dinnertime slot. And immediately upon thinking of it as that, I realized I was starving. No goulash, but a vegan curry — no I’m not vegan, but probably should be, not the least because it would allow me to subsist exclusively on a variety of homeground nut butters — was the thing. Green beans, carrots, broccoli, onions and peppers of course, but most crucially there were four — yes, I counted, it was four — bites of cauliflower. Cauliflower! For upwards of six minutes while Black River Delta nestled into one comfortable flow after another, I found paradise. By the time another 15 minutes had passed, they’d be finished with their sharply composed and executed fare, delivered smoothly and suited to the style bringing together contemporary and classic as so many here have, but in their own way. And soon after that, the rain would start again, but since it was between bands and Black River Delta were so classy anyhow, I won’t hold it against them. It poured for a minute there, though.

Godsleep

And stopped doing so about 35 seconds after I ran away from the photo pit to get away from the deluge coming down from the roof overhang in front of the stage while Greece’s Godsleep were getting going. I was curious what series of circumstances brought a Rutgers football t-shirt into vocalist Amie Makris’ life — I got a MFA from Rutgers Newark, and my wife did her Ph.D. in New Brunswick; you don’t see a lot of Newjerseynalia in other countries [edit: I asked her later at the merch area and she said she got it from her sister] — but the shirt didn’t last much longer than the rain, and Godsleep’s material had so much push and sweep that the thought was in and out of my head like some kind of asshole who just flies in for the festival and then is gone. They slowed down a bit for the delightfully ’90s-reminiscent “Saturday,” which was a highlight of last Spring’s all-over-the-place-and-only-more-rad-for-it Lies to Survive (review here), but as that record will demonstrate, there’s no lack of variety in what they do regardless of tempo. Not being exclusively sad, slow and miserable, there are aspects of Godsleep’s aesthetic I can relate to more than others, but almost any in-genre boundary pushing is good news as far as I’m concerned, “Permanent Vacation” sort of bridges worlds between explosion-happens-now and more methodical whathaveyou. I found that their harsher moments were complement rather than contrast to the odd bit of desert riffing and sundry other lessons in kicking ass on display. Split LP with Ruff Majik post-haste, please. Both with some screaming, while I’m making requests. Dizzying but undizzied, intermittently furious, deceptively intricate, and rad. They finished by bringing it all back around to the riffs and were better than the veggie curry. Yup. That’s the review.

Speck

Mellow molten instrumentalism from Vienna trio Speck, whose expanses soothed with considerably more cosmic warmth than is offered by, say, actual space. It was my first time seeing the band, whose second album, Eine Gute Reise, came out last Fall, and it took them a while to get going, sure enough, but more, it took me a couple minutes to warm up to it, but all of a sudden I looked up and they were killing it. They’d continue to do so even as a torrential, bucket-style downpour took hold, adding another layer of soak to the already saturated everything and causing a scramble for shelter for some and a very pointed not-scramble from others, which I can respect. Rockpalast has a small tent set up outside the production truck backstage with a tv showing the livestream feed, right next to Lulu’s Garden, and I took advantage of that to wait out the deluge. It didn’t last — it couldn’t or it’d be Freak Lake Festival — but it was harder even than the rain before, and if you were caught in it, you know that’s saying something. I eventually made my way further back to sit someplace drier, but listened as Speck brought their set-long build to its payoff, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the livestream mics picked up the sound of the rain pounding down. If so, all the more reason they should make it into a live record. People mud-moshing like a hippie version of whatever Woodstock that was.

Amyl and the Sniffers

Thrills and such from brash, hard-hitting Aussie punk rockers Amyl and the Sniffers. When they were announced as a headliner, it kind of had me scratching my head, but obviously seeing them you get it in a different way. Their frontwoman, Amyl, came out in an overcoat and stripped it off to reveal her undies while singing a line I interpreted as “I like power,” so yes, if that’s what it was, then clearly. Not gonna take away from the statement or the volume that coincided, but on my coolest day I was never cool enough to be a punker, and today’s certainly not my coolest day. Still, can’t really argue with the ass kicking meted out, and after a certain point, loud groove is loud groove. They shouted out countrymen outfit C.O.F.F.I.N., who played the other day, which was nice, en route to the next onslaught. Rain stopped and started, as it has for most of the day.

I just kind of hung around and let both the noise and the water falling from the sky — because this planet is incredible and to our present knowledge completely unique in the universe in being able to support life and water is why and we treat it like shit; by the way I’m getting on a plane tomorrow morning, so I’m not indemnifying myself, rest assured; if you’re alive to read this you’re complicit there — wash over me while making the rounds saying a few quick goodbyes/hope-to-see-you-next-years. The harsh reality of needing to head to the airport early tomorrow has set in, so better to take care of that earlier than to feel bad about it later. There are a lot of very nice people here, and they are kind to me, and talk to me. I don’t have the kind of brain that always translates being happy to see someone into a smile on my face, but even if you just said hi this weekend, please know it was appreciated. I guess I’m saying goodnight there, too. Guess I got sidetracked talking about Amyl and the Sniffers. Okay.

Kadavar

The one and only. Because as many imitators as they’ve spawned, Kadavar on a level of their own. I knew to expect good things from their still-relatively-recent four-piece incarnation from seeing them play last summer at the aforementioned SonicBlast (review here), and god damn, they’re about as headliner as you get when they take the stage at something like this. They’ve been recording — for what, I don’t know, but I’ve got my hopes — rather than the old tour-tour-tour thing, while it was killer to hear Lupus Lindemann up on stage speak to the crowd in his (and most of their, I assume) native language. He, Tiger, Dragon and Jascha Kreft — last I checked, the ‘new guy’ hadn’t chosen a spirit animal — took the stage to defy the supposition that rock and roll has no more heroes, and while they’re a professional band putting on a show for an audience, on doing so, they throw down like no one else in this thing. “Doomsday Machine” into “Come Back Life” at the start? Come on. I hung around for a few songs, which was a choice facilitated by either the rain mostly stopping or my new Freak Valley hoodie just being soaked enough that I didn’t notice, then made my way out with more than a tinge of sadness at it being over, but secure in the knowledge I’ll see Kadavar again this summer, barring disaster, and as I arrived at the hotel after hailing a cab like the New York metro, throw-your-arm-out-just-at-the-right-time-to-catch-the-driver, it occurred to me to put on the Rockpalast stream. So I got to watch “I Fly Among the Stars” and so on that way. Scrolling back told me I missed “Black Sun” and the clap-along to “Die Baby Die” while in transit, which is a little sad, but I’m grateful for what I got.

—

The same applies to the festival as a whole. I’m grateful for everything I saw and heard — whether it was in accord with my everyday listening habits or not — over the last three days, grateful to Jens for having me over, for Falk watching out for me in the photo pit, to Alex, Marcus, Jamie, and Basti for the rides, and to you for reading any of it if you did. As she often is concerning a wide variety of subjects, The Patient Mrs. was right to give me the push out the door I needed. Such as I’m a duck, I’m a lucky one.

If I have time, I’ll do kind of an epilogue tomorrow, if not, probably Friday, which is probably what I’d prefer to allow for a little actual-processing/distance. We’ll see. Either way, thank you again. More pics after the jump.

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I have every intention of being at Freak Valley Festival 2024 when it takes place next May into June, and given the first 11 acts to be announced for its lineup, I’m already glad for that. Yes, no doubt Monolord will crush and I just saw 1000mods like a week ago so I know they’re killing it, but the chance to see the likes of Daevar or Fuzzy Grass, Speck, Mouth, Full Earth (begat by Kanaan) and Slomosa, the young Norwegian outfit at the potential spearhead of a new generation of Euro heavy rock — the kind of band who’ll be headlining in a few years if they keep putting the work in like they are and the songs hold up. Already there’s stuff I never thought I’d see, stuff I’ve seen and know will be awesome, and stuff I haven’t seen that I want to see. Call that a win for a first announcement.

I wrote a decent portion of the below, but some was added, so I’m not gonna take full credit or anything like that. Nonetheless, as posted on socials:

Freak Valley Festival 2024 Lineup Announcement!

Ladies and gentlemen, freaks of all ages, get ready to rock your world at Freak Valley Festival 2024! We’re thrilled to unveil the first part of an incredible lineup featuring some of the most electrifying bands from around the globe.
Freak Valley 2024 is set for May 30 – June 1.

You’ve already seen that Early Freak Tickets are on sale for Sept. 30 at Vortex Surfer in Siegen, and Regular Tickets again Oct. 2. Online sales start Oct. 3 and tickets hit local shops on Oct. 4.
But enough about that!!

You’ve been waiting, we’ve been waiting, and the first band we’re ready to unveil for Freak Valley Festival 2024 is MONOLORD.

The Swedish kingpins of plus-sized riffs were last with us in 2019. Will they be back with a new album next summer? It’s cool to hope so, but either way, you can’t go wrong when Monolord come to crush, which they always do.

They’ll be joined by Greek heavy rock kingpins 1000MODS, Norwegian upstarts SLOMOSA — whose second record will be out by June — and ALEX HENRY FOSTER who you might remember was supposed to play in 2023, as well as DŸSE, SPECK, DAEVAR and FUZZY GRASS from France.

Newcomer Kanaan-offshoot FULL EARTH will join us from from Norway and long-running Chilean sludge outfit DEMONAUTA will grace our stage for the first time.

Rounding out this first announcement closer to home, we’ll bring Köln heavy prog stalwarts MOUTH on board, heralding this year’s ‘Getaway’ LP, which is must-hear if you haven’t!

(#128266#) Here’s the star-studded lineup:

Monolord – 1000mods – Dÿse – Slomosa – Alex Henry Foster – Mouth – Speck – Demonauta- Full Earth- Fuzzy Grass – Daevar

All killers, no fillers. That’s how we do it, freaks. Get your tickets now because they’ll be gone before you know it.

Prepare for an unforgettable weekend filled with mind-blowing performances, heavy riffs, and an atmosphere that’ll keep you rocking all night long. Freak Valley Festival 2024 is set to be an absolute musical extravaganza!

https://www.facebook.com/freakvalley
https://www.instagram.com/freakvalleyfestival/
https://twitter.com/FreakValley
http://www.rockfreaks.de/
http://www.freakvalley.de/

Monolord, It’s All the Same (2023)

Maybe there’s some secret improv-based heavy psychedelic jam group on Facebook or something where everyone talks about the proper water temperature for tea and how to build delay pedals and cosmic synthesizers out of common items found around the household — or, you know, they played a show together or something — but however Speck and Interkosmos know each other, they’re a good fit.

Speck are from Vienna, Austria, and Interkosmos hail from various locales in Germany. Both explore space through spontaneous excursions of aural weaving, shaping organic vibes with electric means, finding their way as they go and making that process — at least on this shared full-length release issued through Sulatron Records — the basis of their expression. The explorations, abidingly mellow but not at all staid or unipolar, are the point, in other words. And with Speck‘s “The Metz Session” (23:16) on side A and Interkosmos unfurling “Beyond Hibernation” (22:32) on side B, it’s about as packed as a 12″ platter can be with dug-in, out-there brainmelter kosmiche-ism, both bands aware and ready to incorporate the tenets of space rock, but refusing to subsume their impulses to the tenets of genre.

Taken as an entirety, the split heralds a vitality of approach shared across both outfits, while each showcases a personality and progression of its own, working largely instrumentally — there’s some conversation at the end and a “woo!” in the second half takeoff in “The Metz Session”; no argument — to carry them ever deeper toward the center of lysergic creativity, the root of all things, maybe the weird 400-mile-wide iron ball said to rest at the core of the Earth, and so forth. Wherever they’re headed, it’s not unimportant, but the focus is on how they get there rather than a landing spot.

That said, Speck do offer a rousing, blaster crash wash and ripper solo shred — dig that punker snare too amid the push — starting around 21 minutes into “The Metz Session,” devolving the piece named after its recording circumstance into noise before capping with residual undulations of echoing guitar, then sharing a good laugh after. The three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Marcel Cultrera, bassist Lisa Winkelmüller and drummer Patrick Säuerl jammed out “The Metz Session” as the first part of a video series (with sound and video helmed by Sebastian Hödlmoser and Lukas Sukal, respectively), and begin with the drums tapping themselves to life on the ride cymbal before launching a relatively uptempo beat as the foundation. Guitar and bass join, and before the extended piece is even a minute in, everyone is present and accounted for in a stretch deceptive in its tension but still fluid enough for the band to ride it as long as they do.

It’s an exciting start. Not so much in a way that has you waiting for the payoff — the song’s 23 minutes long, and the patience to let Speck unfold it as they see fit is an inherent ask — but in a way that offers rewards even before they get to the already-noted finish, whether that’s Cultrera‘s solo after the three-minute mark, expansive and shimmering over the somewhat-understated-for-now bass from Winkelmüller or the turn to deeper-distorted chug at around five minutes in that shifts almost immediately to a more drifting comedown, drums stopping and turning at 5:43 to mark the beginning of the next stage. With wah to spare, Speck work their way into another build, and at 9:28 they start to more directly coalesce around a fuzzy cosmic thrust that is all the more sweeping when the guitar howls out its acid-drenched lead atop the now-solid groove beneath.

More chug and a furious round of crashing follows, but the stretch is relatively shortlived, shifting before the 13-minute mark into a long opposite-of-a-build unmaking — highlight bass work included after 14 minutes in — that brings “The Metz Session” eventually down to just floating guitar as the setup for the all-the-way-back return of volume splurge that finishes. Do I need to use the word “dynamic” when dynamic is the whole point? I don’t know, but Speck offer full-spectrum audio anyhow, and the laughter and chat at the end offers a palpable sense of exhale, putting the listener even more in the room with the band for the session recorded in 2021, just about two years after they formed.

To contrast, Interkosmos are an entity reborn, and perhaps that’s where the title “Beyond Hibernation” comes from, since their only prior release, the extended full-length Hypnotizer, came out in 2008 (there was also a 2016 remaster). Whatever the case, the trio of guitarist Sergio Ceballos (also Mohama Saz, RIP KC way back when, etc.), guitarist, synthesist/sampler, recording engineer, mixer and label head Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt (ex-Electric Moon, Krautzone, Zone Six, Sula Bassana, Weltraumstaunen, etc.), and drummer Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching (Electric Moon, Sula Bassana‘s Dark Days LP, and so on) are short neither on pedigree nor chemistry, lacing “Beyond Hibernation” with an ambient backdrop of synth around which the guitars curl and reshape themselves according to the whims of the moment.

A more gradual beginning has some kind of sampled echoing loop fading in even before the guitar starts to wake up, serene and less raga than the notion of waking up implies. The drums start soft shortly before 90 seconds in, more the presence of a thud at first than anything so rampantly active, but there’s a space-jazz sensibility to the rhythm behind the post-rock drift and entwining swirl of the guitars, and when taken together, it is duly entrancing. Again, it’s the drums that signal the shift into business-proper, at 3:24 establishing a more forward beat, still gentle but solidified, and the current of that groove pulls Ceballos and Schmidt along as well, threatening space rock takeoff at about five minutes in with the synth rising in the mix, but keeping to its course, not forcing “Beyond Hibernation” to go someplace it doesn’t seem to want to go; band and song working together to make the thing what it is.

Hitting another echelon in minute six, they’re underway and headed into the unknown with an ultra-flowing movement, calm on the surface in the synth and space-noodling guitar but decisively busier on the drums as they dig into the part and let it go, gradually reshaping it until as they approach the 12-minute mark, it seems almost like the guitar is noting the tension that’s come about in the piece itself not because they’re in a build, but because it’s starting to sound like the jam is coming apart. It’s not, actually, of course, but that danger is there as the drums fade back momentarily to regroup. By 12:45, they’re back at it in constructing a new procession, trying one way, then another, before at 14 minutes they seem to rally and find their way into a more angular manifestation, guitar and snare bouncing playfully and almost bluesy, lighthearted.

They hit into the twisting path of guitar and maybe-bass-or-just-other-guitar that at 17 minutes in enters a build in earnest and the somewhat understated — at least it’s not as noisy as Speck‘s was — crescendo for side B, which both feels earned and rests easily as the culmination of the release as a whole, particularly with the residual layers of guitar and synth and the flourish of cymbals that accompany the settling-down at the very end, a corresponding “woo!” thrown in as if to underscore the excited sentiment put forth on side A, though this time it was an audience response, as the “Beyond Hibernation” was recorded in 2008 at Space Farm Ahoi Festiva in Austria, with overdubs added last year.

In its very last seconds, not looking at the clock but just listening on headphones, there is a sense that Interkosmos might pick back up and keep going, but no, thepy don’t. The fact that “Beyond Hibernation” was captured on stage suits the feel of the split in general — live creation is the throughline of both sides, it’s the context that differs — but there’s no appreciable dip in sound quality from Speck (who were in a studio) to Interkosmos either, and that bolsters continuity as well. To be perfectly honest, however, if Speck doesn’t draw you in at the outset, by the time Interkosmos take over, you’ve probably already checked out.

There is, then, a kind of for-the-converted mindset to the proceedings, but aside perhaps from the intimidation factor of taking on longform jammy psych instrumentals for the first time, the barriers to entry are negligible, if not entirely absent. All gates open. Both Speck and Interkosmos welcome their audience (figurative and literal) with steady immersion, and if you’re not careful, you might find yourself back in reality when it’s done wondering where you’ve just been. And maybe that’s the ideal anyhow, since getting lost in it and taken by the moment as it happens could hardly be truer to what each act presents in their given time is the result of the players doing much the same, submerging in the musical conversation taking place right then, come what may in terms of the actual realized material. Boldly impulsive, the split underscores the appeal of psych-jamming more generally in that, and whether one actively follows along or allows the totality to speak to the subconscious, the only wrong answer in terms of how to approach it is to ignore.

Speck, “The Metz Session”

Interkosmos, “Beyond Hibernation”

Speck on Facebook

Speck on Instagram

Speck on Bandcamp

Interkosmos on Facebook

Interkosmos on Instagram

Interkosmos on Bandcamp

Sulatron Records on Facebook

Sulatron Records on Instagram

Sulatron Records website

That’s a hell of a lineup for a birthday party. As you no doubt figured, GockelScream #3 is the third edition of the festival, which is based somewhere — no, I don’t know where — near Dresden in Germany and has an international pull enough to get Heavy Psych Sounds denizens like Duel and Geezer on board during their European tours, as well as to supplement with acts like Cities of Mars, Acid Rooster, Bantoriak, Poland’s Black Smoke and so on. It’s a two-dayer, so let’s assume that the birthday presumably for somebody, perhaps even Gockel, from ElbSludgeBooking will be duly celebrated. In screaming fashion.

If you’re in the region and able to attend, it’s a private festival (then why the press?), so you need to reach out to ElbSludge and ask them where to go, when, how much it costs, and so on. In my mind, that only makes this cooler. A rager with some good friends in the who-knows-where, righteous tunes, laid-back hangs, yeah. That’s about my speed.

Here’s the details that are public:

“In 2022 the notorious booking crew ElbSludgeBooking from Dresden/East-Germany will host the 3rd edition of its Stoner Rock festival „GockelScream“. What started as an excessive birthday party evolved into a proper fest with a special selection of international bands from Stoner to Doom, from Sludge to Krautian Psychedelia. This year will feature illustrious musical presentations by touring bands as Geezer, Duel and Cities of Mars and one-off shows by RRRAGS, Speck and Black Smoke. The whole line-up is of highest caliber, accompanied by a psychedelic light crew, massive PA, good food and German Punkerbier at a very special location, just 30 minutes east of downtown Dresden. If you dig the Stoner scene in its pure and cozy DIY-form this one’s for you. “.

Full line-up:

GEEZER (US)
DUEL (US)
RRRAGS (NL)
CITIES OF MARS (SWE)
ACID ROOSTER (GER)
CANNABINEROS (GER)
BANTORIAK (IT)
SPECK (AUT)
ANDROMEDA SPACE RITUAL (POL)
BLACK SMOKE (POL)
KOMBYNAT ROBOTRON (GER)
ALLIGATOR RODEO (GER)
ACACIA & MAGNOLIA (GER)

All the details like admission fee and the exact location are only available after writing to gockelscream@elbsludge.de.

https://www.facebook.com/Elbsludgebooking/
https://www.instagram.com/elbsludgebooking/

Duel, In Carne Persona (2021)