It was raining last night when I left the Knockdown Center. Pouring, actually. I had parked in the venue’s lot, which I may or may not be allowed to do, but no one said no, so there it is. Two cars were parked in tight formation behind me and on either side.

Got that picture? Looking at it from above, you had two cards that were like the top of a Y, but straight, and I was the bottom. I walked out behind two dudes and asked them for the massive favor of guiding me out of that spot, which they did, in the rain. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Completely above and beyond. They stood there in the rain and made sure I got out without hitting either of the other cars. If it was you, and you’re reading this, get in touch, because I can’t even tell you how much that meant to me. Nothing says community more than shit like that.

Slept an extra hour or so this morning, though my body still thinks 6:30 is sleeping in even though it was nearly 2AM by the time I went to bed. Coffee, shower, shave the nascent neckbeard, water, protein bar, try to feel human. As refreshing as it’s been to live music for a couple full days, I don’t feel out of line saying I’m exhausted and will appreciate the earlier finish tonight. I finished the macadamia butter yesterday, but ground up a bunch of hazelnuts and brought that in some tupperware for the car, had a few bites on the way in. Life-giving. No salt, no nothing. Just dry roasted nuts, smoother than not — enough to bring out the oil — but still with a bit of natural texture. Beautiful.

It’s summer today. Sun’s out, it’s hot, and I’m sitting outside at the Knockdown Center by the food trucks, kind of half in the shade. I managed yesterday to hydrate really well. Today that will be even more important. I woke up this morning with a sorer throat than I expected, gave myself two covid home tests, both decidedly negative. Nice to know for sure.

Doors in about 20 minutes, first band an hour after that.

Greenbeard

This might be the perfect weather for a Greenbeard show. Sun’s out, it’s warm and humid enough to sweat but not totally overbearing, and up from Austin, the four-piece were an immediate rager. Their new record has a good mix of melodic and harder-driving stuff, riff-led but branching out in the way of desert-style heavy and soul, and they brought some of that to what was a pretty quick set, but along the way had time to list “some of their favorite things” in “Don’t Get Too Desperate,” including queso in a list that would do “Feel Good Hit of the Summer” proud. The party vibe was immediate, really even before they went on, but when they hit it, there was no warmup, no give-it-a-minute-and-see-where-it-goes. Greenbeard play heavy rock and roll like it’s this crazy new thing they just made up and you need to hear it right now. And it felt good to recognize songs from their new album, Variant, even if they were considerably rawer live.

—

Left Lane Cruiser

Other than a few basic factoids like they’re signed to Alive Records and they’re from Indiana and having seen their name around a bunch, I knew very little going into Left Lane Cruiser’s set. I expected bluesy, given the chair on stage and the low drums. Washboard, slide guitar, dude rambling between songs most unintelligible. So yes, bluesy, in a hard-boogie kind of way. Fiery energy, light on frills but with a marked lean into cultural appropriation. Maybe just not my thing, but I felt like guitarist/vocalist Fredrick “Joe” Evans IV laid on the Bayou banter a little thick. Wabba dabba baggle clabby. They hit it though, and I’ll give respect to both the energy and the washboard, which was soon enough used to crash through cymbals on the drum kit. It was what it was, and maybe I’ve got race on my mind because of that terrorist shooting in Buffalo, but for as much as they burned, I was left kind of cold. It’s a packed weekend. They aren’t all going to resonate.

—

Mother Iron Horse

These guys jumped from Electric Valley Records to Ripple Music for last year’s ‘Under the Blood Moon,’ and very much compatriot to Leather Lung in my mind perhaps because I saw the two together in 2019 at the much-missed Ode to Doom in Manhattan. Maybe they’re friends. Maybe they hang out on weekends, I don’t know. Even their soundcheck drew people in though, and that crowd did not dissipate when the actual set started. The band plays both kind of music, sludge and rock, and they’re unrepentant in their aggression. They made it easy though to get down with that in the side room, which grew more and more crowded as the set went on, until, finally, the heat reminded me that I very much needed to refill my water bottle. They introduced themselves though by saying, “We’re Mother Iron Horse and a woman’s body is her own fucking business.” Both true, even if the latter was less immediately relevant to the set. I have to think Samuel Alito probably wouldn’t get it had he shown up for Desertfest, but fuck him anyway. Good to know where Mother Iron Horse stand though, and more heavy bands need to be unafraid to say shit like that.

—

Big Business

On the other hand, Big Business started their set by asking who was ready for a pizza party. Duh, everyone. A very West Coast foreshadow of Red Fang to come. I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw Big Business live, but it was probably a Melvins show, if that gives you a general idea. Jared and Coady — which I call them because they’re buds; we talk sometimes, and no that is not at all true — have their thing, and they’re veterans, and they played like it. I was dragging ass, admittedly, but I don’t think I’ve heard Big Business in the last decade and not felt like I need to listen to them more. Today is no different, and thinking of bands who came up around the same time in the early to mid ’00s, they’ve held up better than many and remained true to their ethic. You got an awesome bassist and an awesome drummer and if the central thesis is that’s all you need, well, there are probably a few two-guitar acts in this lineup who’d argue, but I wouldn’t, especially not after watching them play. Good band. Maybe a bit taken for granted, but they’ve only busted their ass for the last 20 years.

—

Stinking Lizaveta

The band I was most looking forward to today. Knew what I was getting, have seen them on multiple prior occasions, and was still astonished. They played as a four-piece with Paul Webb on second guitar, which let Yanni Papadopoulos shred and bounce and move wherever the very precise plan that’s in a language no one else quite understands called for him to go. They’re instrumental, but he, bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta all got on mic at some point between songs. Beyond that, the only vocals were through Yanni’s pickups and various woops and shouts while they played, and they were unreal. Radiating joy all the while, they proceeded to shred common concepts like what’s a song and which way is up and who’s rock and roll anyhow like they were so much fog from the smoke machine, each of them a genuine hero on their instrument and so tight together and so dynamic that each change brought new wonders. The word is unfuckwithable, and that is what they are. Not a single second was misspent, and they were so fucking good and their energy was so infectious that by the time they were done I wasn’t even tired anymore.

—

Dead Meadow

Feels wrong to think of Dead Meadow as the kings of mellow psych, if only because I doubt mellow psych is a monarchy. Whatever system of government the genre might be and whether you tag them as shoegaze or heavy psych or drift psych or anything else that might apply to a given languid measure, they’re masters of it. They eased their way into the proceedings with a jam and had some sound issues — bass cut out early, was fixed quickly — but they got into it with their trademark style, a kind of fascinated serenity set to groove. It’s still daylight, which feels weird somehow, and the weather remains gorgeous, but the crowd filed in once they got going and it was dead quiet in between the songs (after the applause, etc.) as those in front of the stage eagerly awaited the next dose of sweet fuzz that would emanate from it. Another act who’ve stood time’s test by understanding who they are and what they want to do in stage and in their songwriting. Mostly they want you to chill the hell out. And to aid in that cause, Dead Meadow are totally willing to close with “Sleepy Silver Door,” which is only right and proper. A band you always expect to be kind of a wreck based on how they sound but who are sneaky reliable. And oh, that jam…

—

High Reeper

If the phrase “fucking a” was a band, it’d be High Reeper. My first time seeing them live, and they were nastier than on their records but that’s certainly not a problem at this point in the weekend. A good kick in the ass is certainly justified. Crazy one two three to this part of the day, with Stinking Lizaveta, Dead Meadow and High Reeper, who play heavy rock but have a metal middle finger in the air just the same. Hot and humid in that room even with the door open and that suited High Reeper well, as one of my earplugs came partway out and the result was immediately painful. They’re of a whole cohort on Heavy Psych Sounds — see also: Duel, maybe Hippie Death Cult who signed around the same time — and you can hear their point of view taking shape in their sound. That is to say, it has taken shape and while “refine” isn’t the right word for something so brazen, after seeing them I’m left with no doubt they’ll continue to push themselves deeper into the emergent definition of their approach. If Greenbeard were the party — and they were — then High Reeper were the fight that breaks out after everyone is smashed.

—

Red Fang

Two and a half pandemic years later, you can still set your watch by Red Fang’s ability to kick ass. They launched their set with a barrage from across multiple albums and even when they “settled” into it they were explosive. Like Torche, High on Fire still to come, like Big Business earlier, this is an established act, professional, and they put on a professional show. They played “Number Thirteen,” which even with “Wires” and the requisite closer “Prehistoric Dog” would’ve been enough for me on its own, and the place went off. Of course it did. Not at all a surprise, but a definite reaffirmation of their place, which has always been on a stage. I don’t mind telling you that on an existential level, I am very much feeling the early finish tonight, but even so, having Red Fang on right before High on Fire on the main stage makes sense in a way the world hasn’t made sense in what feels like even longer than it actually has been. They’re a band that indoctrinated people into this sound in the first place, and as veterans, they reminded me at least of what a force they can be at their best.

—

Telekinetic Yeti

Oh my. You like tone? Telekinetic Yeti has some tone, and I’m fairly certain it was coming through three Orange full stacks. Statistically significant weight in those riffs. Obviously that’s the idea, and the Midwestern duo, who had an ugly split after their first record that seems to have abated with the addition of a new drummer, play it chunky style. They’re signed to Tee Pee, so there’s a New York connection, and they brought flood lights to counter the encroaching night. I’ve heard a lot of heavy shit this weekend — a lot — but beyond Torche’s bomb string, I’m not sure there’s much to stand up to Telekinetic Yeti in terms of sheer heft. Gonna need a forklift for those riffs, bro. New album in July will be one to dig into. If they managed to capture half of what they used to fill that side room for their headlining spot, it’ll be the kind of thing that’ll blow your speakers. “Stoned & Feathered,” man. Frickin’ “Abominable.” Goodness.

—

High on Fire

There is likely no hyperbole left that has not been said at some point in their more-than-20-year career. They are a juggernaut, they are marauders, they are both the unstoppable force and the immovable object. They are the single axe swing that takes your head off clean, first time. Speaking of first time, I’d yet to see them with Coady Willis on drums. I was always a Des Kensel fan. Dude had a style of play that was all his own. Willis, though, is a fucking monster. He not only handles the older parts but owns them, makes them his own, and executes the material with a vitality that pushes into aerobics. He and Jeff Matz as a rhythm section are well matched and crushing in kind. And what of Matt “For President” Pike? He is the master of ceremonies at the Red Wedding. High on Fire were so intense they were in a league completely of their own. Genre doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Their volume was consuming — loudest of the day, I think, which may be by design — and their ferocity unmatched. As extreme as Desertfest got with some of the more death metal-style stuff, I feel like High on Fire added extra blast to their attack tonight and it was every bit as glorious as one could hope. The perfect ending in that nothing could hope to follow it.

—

Other Random Observations:

– Good music makes life better. Great music makes life great.

– The Yankees have been away all weekend and I suspect that’s made the drives in from NJ easier. Fortunate.

– Lunar eclipse tonight. Feels about right.

– I think I might end everything I ever write about Dead Meadow from here on out with an ellipses.

– Counted no fewer than four Obelisk shirts today, including one on Yanni from Stinking Lizaveta, which was truly humbling. Sleeveless, no less.

– Thanks for reading.

I did get to watch some of that eclipse on my way home. Imagine that for a second. Incredible. More pics after the jump.

Read more »

The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.

Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.

Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.

The Obelisk Questionnaire: Yanni Papadopoulos of Stinking Lizaveta & Wail

—

How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?

I am a Rock guitarist. It’s taken me a lifetime to come to terms with that identity. I had no intention of ending up with this dubious title, but it is accurate. Although I dabble in other idioms such as jazz, funk, and classical, rock is what I am most comfortable in, and what I can pass on to others. I am also a rock musician, with a recording and touring career. Stinking Lizaveta is the name of my band.

Describe your first musical memory.

When I was a child I was in love with my mother’s old 45s. She had some Elvis singles that just sounded otherworldly. The music inspired me to write a tune that went “Damn it, wham it, I just can’t stand it. Damn it, wham it and sweet roses”. I think I was five.

Describe your best musical memory to date.

The most epic musical experience I have had with Stinking Lizaveta was playing at Check Point Charlie’s in New Orleans on Halloween. We played our set once, then the bar owner told us to do it again. Maybe we even did it a third time, then saw the sun rise. This gig continued annually for many years until Katrina broke the chain.

When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?

When I first started a band, I naively thought that if we played shows and put out records, our reputation would grow steadily over the years. I thought of the scene as a meritocracy, where good musicianship and creativity would inevitably be rewarded.

Sometimes I think I was terribly wrong, but sometimes I think I might have been right.

Where do you feel artistic progression leads?

The artist has the perilous task of filling the void they perceive in their community. This gives them the odious task of being the bad conscious of their scene.

How do you define success?

I like the idea of success being the opportunity to practice your art on your own terms.

What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?

Sexism.

Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.

A rock opera of Blade Runner.

What do you believe is the most essential function of art?

Art puts Humanity on display. It is that thing that makes us more than animals, more than dirt.

Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?

I really enjoy watching The Avatar animated series over and over again with my two daughters.

https://www.facebook.com/Stinking-Lizaveta-175571942466657/
http://www.stinkinglizaveta.com/
https://stinkinglizaveta.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/WAIL.philly
https://wail2.bandcamp.com/

https://www.facebook.com/TranslationLossRecords/
https://www.instagram.com/translationlossrecords/
https://translationloss.com/
http://translationlossrecords.bigcartel.com/

Stinking Lizaveta, Journey to the Underworld (2017)

God damn, Desertfest.

Importing Stoned Jesus, Green Lung, Planet of Zeus and Orange Goblin (as much as the latter count as an import; they’ve certainly been here before) to play alongside Baroness, High on Fire and Monster Magnet, Red Fang, C.O.C. and Torche?

That’s a big frickin’ deal.

If Desertfest NYC 2019 was a testing of waters to see if such a think could succeed and be feasible over a longer term, Desertfest NYC 2022 is an immediate play to become the preeminent heavy festival on the Eastern Seaboard of the US. To be a genuine Desertfest, in other words, of no less scale than Berlin, London, or Belgium. I’m glad to see Sasquatch and Fatso Jetson will be coming from the West Coast — I’d expect Fatso Jetson will be touring with Planet of Zeus, as that was supposed to happen in the long-long ago — and Somnuri are sure to represent NYC well and Stinking Lizaveta and High Reeper likewise for Philly, while The Atomic Bitchwax headlining the Vitus Bar pre-show warms my Garden Stater heart no end.

There are more to be announced (I have a couple picks of my own, not that anyone asked), but already this is the best heavy fest lineup for New York City in recent memory. It will be something special to behold. I hope there’s a photo pit at the Knockdown Center.

Behold Arik Roper‘s gorgeous poster art below, followed by the announcement:

Desertfest New York announces Baroness, High on Fire, Monster Magnet, Red Fang + more for second edition in 2022

TICKETS ON SALE NOW VIA WWW.DESERTFESTNEWYORK.COM

Europe’s leading stoner rock collective Desertfest returns to New York in 2022.

Taking place in the unique arts space of the Knockdown Center from May 13th – May 15th, with an exclusive pre-party at Saint Vitus Bar on May 12th. Desertfest are firmly planting their feet back into New York’s underbelly with a mammoth line-up celebrating the very best of heavy music.

Welcoming home-grown talent such as BARONESS, MONSTER MAGNET, CORROSION OF CONFORMITY & TORCHE alongside acts from across the pond like Ukraine’s STONED JESUS, Greek groovers PLANET OF ZEUS & a debut US performance for English doom maestros GREEN LUNG, Desertfest NYC are pushing their second edition to new levels.

Saint Vitus kicks off proceedings as THE ATOMIC BITCHWAX, PLANET OF ZEUS, FATSO JETSON & DRUID warm up the engine for the weekend ahead. Followed by 3 monumental days as Knockdown Center hosts the likes of Grammy-award winning trio HIGH ON FIRE, British heavy metal icons ORANGE GOBLIN, a rock’n’roll bacchanal from RED FANG, insanity from INTER ARMA and much, much more.

4-day passes (includes access to Saint Vitus pre-party on Thursday 12th May) & 3-day passes (Knockdown Center only) are on sale now via the following link – https://desertfest.eventbrite.com

With more to be announced, including day splits, Desertfest are most certainly back with a bang. We highly recommend getting your tickets ASAP, don’t say we didn’t warn you…

Full Line-Up
Knockdown Center May 13th – May 15th 2022
Baroness | High on Fire | Monster Magnet | Red Fang | Corrosion of Conformity | Torche | Orange Goblin | Dead Meadow | Inter Arma | Big Business | Green Lung | Stoned Jesus | Left Lane Cruiser | Sasquatch | Silvertomb | Telekentic Yeti | Stinking Lizaveta | High Reeper | Holy Death Trio | Yatra | Somnuri | Leather Lung

Saint Vitus Bar May 12th 2022
The Atomic Bitchwax | Planet of Zeus | Fatso Jetson | Druids

Ticket link – https://desertfest.eventbrite.com

https://facebook.com/Desertfestnyc/
https://www.instagram.com/desertfest_nyc/
http://www.desertfestnewyork.com

If the guys from Morton Gaster Papadopoulos aren’t careful, they’re going to end up being an actual band. You might recall last summer a jam was premiered here by the project featuring Yanni Papadopoulos of Stinking Lizaveta, Jean-Paul Gaster of Clutch and Mark Morton from Lamb of God, and the trio are back with what might legitimately be called a single in the form of “The Burnt Offerings.” The new track brings them into more structured songcraft, and they sure sound like a band. With Naeemah Maddox on vocals and Chris Brooks on keys, “The Burnt Offerings” wants nothing for arrangement or intensity, and while noting that something “speaks to the moment” has actually become one of the moment’s most brutal cliches, Maddox‘s voice as a woman of color resonates in the early verses. It is a voice that needs to be heard, especially in an underground so predominantly, exhaustingly white and male.

“The Burnt Offerings” runs just under six minutes and right about at its midpoint there’s a break. By that point, Maddox has locked step with a building rhythmic intensity, and from there, Brooks‘ keys take a prominent position alongside a solo from Morton, with clean lines from Papadopoulos and Gaster supporting. The vocals return soon, and the effect is progressive and sweeping, almost psych-Beatles-style melodymaking, but the protest-song spirit continues in the repeated lines, “Let me tell you something/I think you oughtta know.” The group — and for the purposes here, it feels very much like a five-piece rather than the trio plus two guests — ride that movement out to a last crash and some final keys, but the only thing that seems to stop it is them. I’d easily take another 10-15 minutes of that jam with Maddox improv’ing lines overtop. That’d be just fine.

Alas, not this time. Maddox and Papadopoulos were both kind enough to offer a few words about the making of “The Burnt Offerings” — which was recorded by the esteemed J. Robbins (Clutch, Caustic Casanova, and so on) — below, and graciously gave permission for me to host the single as both a premiere and a free download. I hope you’ll take the time to enjoy it and join me in waiting for whatever the project might come up with next.

Dig:

Naeemah Maddox on “The Burnt Offerings”:

In the current social climate it is no longer sufficient to be non-racist. One must be anti-racist. This moment demands true accountability, and real change.

Transnational corporations stating their support for BLM should only be taken as sincere if they also advocate and lobby for social reforms like a living wage, universal healthcare, and defunding and demilitarising the police; using these new freed up resources to reinvest in vulnerable communities that need it most.

The time has long passed for petty sloganeering and cynical tokenism. Being against police brutality in 2020 shouldn’t even be a political issue. This is a failure of our society and goes beyond political persuasion. This is about human rights and creating a world our children would want to live in.

Yanni Papadopoulos on “The Burnt Offerings”:

This were my riffs that I brought to the table when jamming with Mark and JP. Those guys took the parts and rearranged them in a less linear order and Mark added his own fills in the spaces. Of course Naeemah wrote her own parts to the arrangement with lyrics, vox and flute. Chris Brooks filled in the keys. However, it all started with a bassline which I thought JP could really sink his teeth into. J. Robbins was great to work with, he knew just how to make sense of it all. What your hearing is virtually a live in the studio track. Mark’s solo was cut live with bass and drums with no edits. First take magic!

Stinking Lizaveta on Thee Facebooks

Mark Morton on Thee Facebooks

Clutch on Thee Facebooks

About two months ago, I was lucky enough to stream a jam-room recording from Stinking Lizaveta called ‘The Odor of Corruption’ (posted here) after being hit up by the Philly-based doom jazz trio’s founding guitarist, Yanni Papadopoulos. Late last week, another note came in from Papadopoulos — did I want to hear a jam he played bass on with Jean-Paul Gaster of Clutch drumming and Mark Morton from Lamb of God on guitar?

Easy question.

The jam from what’s being called Gaster, Morton, Papadopoulos was hosted by the drummer in Frederick, Maryland — where else? — and has been dubbed “Blues to Infinity,” which about sums up the vibe. Morton, who released the solo album Anasthetic earlier this year, leads the way on guitar through the easy-flowing sub-four-minute snippet, starting off with a bluesy bounce over Gaster‘s groove, while Papadopoulos helps drive the subtle linear build even as he anchors the central progression beneath the guitar solo to come. If that level of blues hits infinite anywhere in the song — let me get my tape measure — it’s in that solo, but the the way jam kind of sways into its crescendo afterward is where it’s at one way or the other, and even after the guitar cuts out, the drums and bass seem ready to keep the vibe going in case there’s another pickup.

Doesn’t happen this time, but something tells me this might not be the only time we hear from Gaster, Morton, Papadopoulos. True enough that their schedules aren’t exactly empty as it is, but if this is the kind of work they’re doing off-the-cuff whenever their respective planets happen to align, there’s simply too much chemistry and too much potential here to leave it alone. And I mean, you know, if they wanted to send some jams off to Per Wiberg to put some keys on there too, I wouldn’t complain. Just a thought.

Whether or not that actually happens, here’s hoping for more from these three.

Enjoy the jam. Some quick comment from Morton follows:

Mark Morton on “Blues to Infinity”:

“There’s totally a cool anxious tightrope feel… like it could fall apart at any second but never does. My lead sounds frustrated and hurt… because I was. This is a real one for sure.”

Stinking Lizaveta on Thee Facebooks

Mark Morton on Thee Facebooks

Clutch on Thee Facebooks

The other morning, just after The Pecan went down for a nap, I got a message through thee social medias from Yanni Papadopoulos of Philadelphia’s Stinking Lizaveta. Now, we’ve never really been in touch, maybe an email here and there around releases or something like that, or I may have said an awkward hello at a gig at some point in the last 15 years, but it’s not like we talk. Nothing against the guy, he seems very nice, and his band certainly rules, but they’ve always had publicity representation, so that’s how it’s gone. Fair enough.

So this note comes over, and it says — direct quote, cut and paste — “Hi JJ, this is Yanni from Stinking Lizaveta, just found a forgotten track we recorded at a practice that kind of encapsulates everything I’m going for in heavy music. Can I send it to you?”

Honestly, what the hell am I going to say to that? “No?” “Don’t send it over?”

Here’s a guy who’s been kicking around in one of the ultra-underground’s most creative bands for well over 20 years, turning heavy rock into jazz and heavy jazz into rock, and he’s saying he’s got a song that brings to life everything he’s going for in heavy music? Come on. Of course send it over. Hook it to my veins and give it to me in an IV.

For anyone to say something like that out of the blue to essentially a stranger is not nothing. But especially for someone whose creativity has been so broadly manifest over his band’s tenure — their last album was 2017’s Journey to the Underworld (review here) on Translation Loss — and someone who does not strike me as being particularly given to hyperbole, I had to hear what that sounded like. Had to.

The track is indeed a rehearsal room recording that’s been given the title “The Odor of Corruption” as taken from a chapter in The Brothers Karamazov, and it was captured in 2018. Those familiar with Stinking Lizaveta‘s work — the lineup is Yanni, upright electric bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta — will find its four-minute run less manic than the instrumentalists can be at their most chaotic, but still with plenty of dynamic on display. A creeping initial guitar line trades into and subsequently out of a soulful solo, rising and falling and rising again into a crescendo that fades out, balancing atmosphere and mood against raw impact in Agusta‘s drums and the slow progression on which it all rests.

In addition to having to hear it, I had to know what it was about “The Odor of Corruption” that particularly stood out to Papadopoulos and made him get in touch in the first place. What is it that the song encapsulates? I asked him for an answer and you can see what he had to say under the player below, on which I’m proud to host the premiere of the song.

Please enjoy it:

Yanni Papadopoulos on “The Odor of Corruption”:

I was poring over some old music files and in a folder labeled “Stinking Liz ideas” and I found this track. The recording is from a rehearsal, done in a basement, with two live mics in the room running into the computer. We do this from time to time just to make sure we don’t forget things. Well, in this case we forgot all about this song. I put my ears to it and started to think, “This is what I’m going for in heavy music.” It’s funny how hard it is to appreciate your own work. Sometimes it will take me years to listen to my own band’s record, and it’s always best when it happens by accident.

I’m calling the song “The Odor of Corruption.” The title comes from a chapter in The Brothers Karamazov in which a young Alyosha anxiously waits to see if the body of his mentor, the good and wise Father Zosima, will rot after his death, or will remain pure and be declared saintly. The body starts to stink, as dead bodies do. Sorry, we are all mortal.

This track reminds me that a mission of Stinking Lizaveta has always been to be as present as possible in our music. I was talking to a fellow musician backstage at a gig recently and said, “I just hope to play reliable versions of our songs tonight.” He responded, “Isn’t that all anyone hopes for?” To which I replied, “Well, sometimes I hope for a little bit of magic too.” I enjoy good musicianship, but rock is about inspiration rather than technical perfection. Our band has found a place where we demand more than just mechanics from each other. It’s not always possible to access that real beyond the material world, but it is paradise when you do open that portal for yourselves and the audience.

Stinking Lizaveta on Thee Facebooks

Stinking Lizaveta website

Stinking Lizaveta on Bandcamp

Philadelphia’s Stinking Lizaveta head out at the end of this month on a round of touring in the Midwest and along the Eastern Seaboard supporting last year’s Journey to the Underworld (review here) on Translation Loss. They remain a one-of-a-kind outfit in underground music, adherent to style not nearly so much as to substance, and able to leap tall genres in a single bound. It’s been a while since I’ve seen them live, but their chemistry is born of a history that spans more than two decades, and simply put, they’re the kind of band who, if you can see them, you should see them. Not just because they take jazz and make it heavy, and not just because they take heavy and make it jazz, but because they take all of it and make it their own.

Go see Stinking Lizaveta.

Here’s where to do so in the coming weeks, courtesy of the PR wire:

Stinking Lizaveta Announce Fall Tour Dates

Philadelphia instrumental heavy rock doom-jazz trio Stinking Lizaveta announce a fall tour beginning on November 30th in Lancaster, PA. For fourteen days, the trio will deliver experimental fusion in support of their 2017 mind-melting and critically acclaimed Translation Loss Records release, Journey To The Underworld.

From Lancaster, PA to Lafayette, LA, Paul Webb (Clearlight,/Mystical Crew Of Clearlight, Mountain Of Wizard will join Stinking Lizaveta on second guitar.

A list of tour dates can be found below.

For over 20 years, Stinking Lizaveta have released multiple critically acclaimed albums and shared the stage with national headlining bands such as Clutch, Corrosion of Conformity, Fugazi, Weedeater and more. They have held the reins as rock pioneers and have built a worldwide cult following for their legendary and unrelenting sound.

Late Fall US Tour
11/30/2018 Lancaster, PA, Lizard Lounge
12/02/2018 Philadelphia, PA, Mothership
12/03/2018 Richmond, VA, Strange Matter
12/04/2018 Chapel Hill, NC, Local 506
12/05/2018 Athens, GA, Caledonia
12/06/2018 Knoxville, TN, Pilot Light
12/07/2018 Chattanooga, TN, Ziggy’s
12/08/2018 New Orleans, LA, Portside Lounge
12/09/2018 Lafayette, LA, Freetown Boom Boom Room
12/10/2018 Austin, TX, Lost Well
12/12/2018 Kansas City, MO, Minibar
12/13/2018 Lombard, IL, Brauerhaus
12/14/2018 Iowa City, IA, Gabes
12/16/2018 Pittsburgh, PA, Spirit
12/17/2018 Brooklyn, NY, Saint Vitus

Stinking Lizaveta are:
Yanni Papadopoulos – Guitar
Alexi Papadopoulos – Upright electric bass
Cheshire Agusta – Drums

https://www.facebook.com/Stinking-Lizaveta-175571942466657/
http://www.stinkinglizaveta.com/
https://stinkinglizaveta.bandcamp.com
http://www.translationloss.com/
http://translationlossrecords.bigcartel.com/
https://www.facebook.com/TranslationLossRecords/

Stinking Lizaveta, Journey to the Underworld (2017)

I’ll admit, it was thinking of the festival itself rather than this compilation in particular that brought Emissions from the Monolith to mind. The festival, which ran annually the last weekend in May in Youngstown, Ohio, between 2000 and 2006 (there was also one in Chicago in 2001) before its final installment in Austin, Texas, in 2007, was a pioneer of heavy festivals in the US. At that point, outside of showcase events like SXSW and the roughly-concurrent Stoner Hands of Doom fest, which started in 1999 and ran until 2013 in various cities, there wasn’t a ton happening in terms of heavy underground gatherings of its level. Run by Greg Barratt, then also of Tone Deaf Touring, it was a celebration of sludge, noise, doom and everything else heavy whose early lineups read like pages out of riffy history. Imagine seeing Penance and Bongzilla and Spirit Caravan in 2000, or Pale Divine, Witch Mountain and Dragon Green in 2001. To-date, the 2006 Emissions fest is the only show Colour Haze have ever played in the US, and while its commitment to the deep underground was unquestionable in supporting bands like Test-Site, Wooly Mammoth and Kung Pao, and its aesthetic would continue to expand, its foundation always seemed to be in raw, visceral and heavy noise rock.

Which brings us to the 11-track compilation at hand. The 2003 lineup for Emissions from the Monolith featured the likes of Acid King, The Hidden Hand, Pelican, Dixie Witch, Halfway to Gone, Erik Larson, Solace, Mastodon, The Atomic Bitchwax and Floor, and yet it’s telling that on the Maduro Records assemblage Emissions from the Monolith, it’s groups like Acid Ape, JJ Paradise Players Club, Meatjack — who featured Brian Daniloski, now of Darsombra, and who once upon a time did the best Melvins cover you’ve ever heard — Volume and Fistula. Some bands featured, like Kung Pao or Rebreather, didn’t actually play that year, but were staples enough that it didn’t really matter. Rebreather in particular, whose primo roller “Earthmover” is included as the second track on the CD, were the quintessential Emissions band, and as regards trivia, they were the first act on the stage at the first edition in 2000. Others, like Pennsylvania’s instrumental heavy jazz experimentalists Stinking Lizaveta were on their own wavelength almost entirely, but still kept that overarching sense of rawness to their approach, while Southern sludge riffers like Burnout and Ohio pill-popper sludge eternals Fistula brought attitude and scathe in kind. Kung Pao‘s “D is for Denim” reads like a mantra and also featured on their 2000 full-length, Bogota (see also: that album’s cover art) — their second record was also a gem — and “The Ballad of Sisyphus MacDuff” by The Rubes began a seven-minute loadout with throat singing before a showing of soulful heavy rock the likes of which still makes me want to break out their 2001 Underdogma Records long-player, Hokum.

Over the last couple years, I’ve talked a lot about pre-social media heavy and many bands lost in that shift from one generation to the next, who maybe had one record out, maybe two, maybe three, and then Facebook happened and they missed the party. Looking at the 2003 Emissions lineup, there are plenty who survived — The Atomic Bitchwax, Weedeater, Mastodon, Acid King, etc. — but others like Dixie Witch, Tummler, All Night, RPG and Abdullah, while they may or may not have stayed active, didn’t quite make the same kind of transition. Though they came back later thanks to the enduring affection for their self-titled, I’d put Floor in that category as well. And listening to the echoing forward drive of Volume‘s “Colossus Freak” on the Emissions from the Monolith comp, it’s not at all like these acts didn’t have anything to offer listeners, or like they still don’t some 15 years later. It really was just a matter of timing. Others, like Sons of Otis, who close the comp with the 10-minute drone-into-riff spectacular “Big Muff,” seem to have an audience just waiting for their next offering to arrive, but some of these bands are gone to parts unknown, and especially considering that, the importance of this collection is unassailable.

Emissions was a special event and The Nyabinghi in Youngstown, where it was held, was a special place. A regular stop on the Tone Deaf circuit in no small part because Barratt owned it, for one weekend every year it became a druggy paradise of barbecue, riffs, booze and volume. You can still see the hotel where everyone stayed from Rt. 80 on your way west, and it’s easy to imagine the scars left behind in that building from the years of stoner abuse it took. I’m sorry to say that there’s much of the 2006 edition I don’t even remember, less for the passage of time than the ridiculous amount of beer consumption the weekend brought. I remember seeing Colour Haze (changed my life; ask me about it sometime), and I remember there was some drama with SunnO))). I remember sheepishly handing Barratt a copy of my band’s demo and being “voted off the island” by a group of friends standing outside in back of the place — I actually had to leave and go back inside — and I remember being poorly hydrated. Thinking back on it now, I kind of wish I’d had my head together more. Story of my life.

But the point is that there was only one Emissions from the Monolith, and though US heavy festival culture is currently undergoing a boom, from Stumpfest and Electric Funeral Fest to Descendants of Crom to Maryland Doom Fest to New England Stoner and Doom Festival, the moment that was Emissions won’t come again. Of course, each of these newer fests is making its own contributions, but thinking back on what Emissions was and listening to this compilation particularly, one can hear the undercurrent of barebones fuckall that typified the time, the place and the room. For those who were there and those who weren’t, it remains a happening worthy of document, and as Emissions from the Monolith works to document even some piece of one year of it, it’s all the more worth preserving.

I sincerely hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

—

The week started off with punk rock guilt at all the shows I didn’t go to over the last couple weeks that I wanted to see and featured a canceled trip to Portugal for SonicBlast Moledo next weekend — surprise, I was going, now I’m not; that’s a week’s worth of suckage in itself, even with Psycho Las Vegas still to look forward to — so yeah, I kind of rolled with the punches as they came. Was bummed at the lack of response the Sleep live review got — I posted three pics from the show on Thee Facebooks the next day and those got a big reaction, so I guess that’s where it went instead of the actual review. I was really happy with the piece though, so I take comfort in that and if anyone else read it, that’s awesome. Making Clutch’s crab cakes was fun and I was glad I got to post that All Them Witches bio. The week kind of ends on a downer with that Ancestors review — the album is awesome, I’m just sulky because I wasn’t cool enough to premiere a track with it — but it was fun to get on a little nostalgia trip about Emissions from the Monolith above. Ups and downs, I guess.

Also had a lot of time with The Pecan this week, and baby-time is good time. He’s getting closer to walking — we’re thinking first steps in the next couple weeks — and he’s got a couple consonants he breaks out if suitably prompted. “Ba,” “ma,” “da,” “la” and the like. That’s fun. I feel lucky to be able to be home with him, especially seeing other parents I know go to work. Less over the summer — I seem to know a lot of teacher-types — but in general. I don’t know. He’s a pretty great little guy, and we got a baby-gate to keep him away from the Little Dog Dio’s food and water dishes, so all the better.

Other shit persists in follow-the-bouncing-ball fashion. I’ve been trying to be mindful of things like my general state, depression and so on. I was trying to stay off my meds for a couple weeks, working pretty hard to make a go of it, but I just flat-out failed, and yes, I recognize the language puts it on my effort when it’s not necessarily about that. Thank you, inner therapist voice which sounds remarkably like The Patient Mrs. Still, it’s been upwards of eight months now and every time I sit still for more than five minutes I continue to just absolutely fucking disgust myself. Even sitting here at the keyboard, I feel my arms at my sides and want to crawl out of my own skin. Part of that is I didn’t get to shower yesterday — grunge parenting — but I know part of it runs deeper and I still have more work to do. I don’t think I’ll ever be one of those self-actualized I’m-okay-you’re-okay types, but it would be awfully nice to make it through an afternoon without feeling like I’m going to have an aneurysm. Whatever. Who fucking cares. The pills help, I guess?

Ugh.

Ups and downs. Strikes and gutters. Some you win, some you lose.

He’s a good kid.

Let’s do the notes for next week. Subject to change blah blah blah:

Mon.: The Crazy Left Experience review/video premiere; The Skull lyric video.
Tue.: Jody Seabody & The Whirls track premiere.
Wed.: Mr. Plow full album stream.
Thu.: Mountain Tamer track premiere.
Fri.: The Machine review.

There are a bunch of other videos I need to sort through and decide what I’m actually going to put up, so I didn’t list them other than The Skull, but Weed Demon, Ape Vermin, Black Space Riders and Windhand all have new clips out, so there’s plenty to plug into the week in whatever order I wind up feeling like doing so. I’ll sort it out over the weekend. Have another bio to write anyway, so I’ll be on the laptop one way or the other.

It’s almost six-thirty and I hear The Pecan waking up in the next room, so I’d better leave it there. Hope you have a great and safe weekend. Thank you as always for reading and please don’t forget to check out the forum and radio stream.

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