Stoner Love was gifted to me — an act I consider every bit as generous as it sounds — last weekend at Desertfest New York by one Juan Lopez. I’m sure you know him because you’re cool and you know everybody, but Lopez is a significant proponent of Colombian heavy and once upon a half-decade ago he turned me onto the trad doom stylings of Wartime, thereby pretty much earning my trust forever. He handed over a jewel case copy of Stoner Love‘s The Inaugural Collection, released in 2019, as well as the band’s 2016 split with Ohmaigad, titled Integration, and I dug in accordingly. The Inaugural Collection is the first full-length from the Medellín-based three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Guido “Gigi” Isaza (who also recorded), drummer/vocalist Fiamma Tafur and bassist Juan Múnera — the first two of whom also played in Ohmaigad — and it brings together a couple tracks that appeared on prior offerings like the limited-to-25 tapes Sun Dried Sessions in 2017 from the band’s first years, their cover of Jane’s Addiction‘s “Mountain Song,” for example, or the originals “Into the Wind” and “Other Side of the Rainbow.”

And in some ways, it’s a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of affair. The riffs are up front, the roll central to the proceedings, and there’s an abiding languidness that emphasizes the psychedelic aspects emanating outward from the deep-running tones. “Into the Wind” is actively about taking a hit of marijuana, holding it in, and blowing it out for someone else to breathe in, while “We Have the Key,” which features Colombian artist Sebastian Gil “Sur Nadie” Grisales on bass, seems to be more about the ritual of performance itself, but a crucial moment is right at the outset, when the 10-minute opener and longest track (immediate points) “El Caminante (Featuring Reencarnacion)” unfurls the first of The Inaugural Collection‘s sleepy nods, set to echoing chants initially and pulling slow riff-led movements out one at a time in gleefully stoned fashion. A rumbling lysergic not-quite-dirge plays out, peppered with spoken vocals, laughter, an occasional grunt, and so on, but what makes “El Caminante (Featuring Reencarnacion)” so essential to the album as a whole is its chilling effect. As in “chilling out.”

Consider that the entire seven-tracker runs 44 minutes. Nearly a quarter of that runtime is dedicated, then, to this lead cut, and the work it does in setting the mood for everything that follows. There’s a fair bit of guitar freakout in the second half of the song, but even that takes place over the steady, hypnotic, recorded-live nodder groove, and whether the guest vocals by Victor Jaramillo are echoing into space, laughing maniacally or shouting right into your ear on headphones, the intent toward immersion on the band’s part could hardly be clearer, whatever thickness of aural fog surrounds. They’re drawing you in, and the truth is it works. It’s more of a jam than anything that follows, which makes putting it first feel even bolder, and especially as it arrives backed by a slowed-way-down cover of Natas‘ classic “I Love You” from that seminal Argentinian outfit’s own much-loved debut, Delmar, drawn out across seven minutes, and “Into the Wind,” which tops eight, what might be side A of a vinyl (perhaps with some slight editing) moves with an ultra-flowing course that’s light on flourish in terms of its presentation — that is, tones are earthy rather than cosmic, with bass and guitar both dug righteously into low end frequencies — but which utterly delivers on the promise of the band’s name. Which is to say, it’s made with love.

The covers, Natas and Jane’s Addiction, speak to an obvious affinity for ’90s rock, and that’s all well and good and not necessarily unexpected. Like “El Caminante (Featuring Reencarnacion),” they’re a way to draw you in, which is what The Inaugural Collection is all about in the front-to-back listening experience. But whether it’s “Into the Wind” with its crash-laden paean to getting high — the lyrics are weedian gold; the lines “Out in the wind/Pushin’ air, like the cabs on my amp did,” perhaps taking the prize for the record as a whole — with Isaza and Tafur sharing vocals as in the just-prior call-and-response hook of “I Love You,” or the gruff, more lumbering march of “We Have the Key,” or the closing duo of “Other Side of the Rainbow” and “Other Side of the Rainbow Pt. 2,” the second part of which seems not to be included on the Bandcamp stream, but which picks up the chorus from the first part and pushes it out with a little more chug and tempo behind it, and considering how methodical much of The Inaugural Collection is, that should be taken as a relative consideration. They still spend the last 40 seconds or so of the three-minute finale crashing out in slothy fashion.

On the whole, the release is a little disjointed, bringing together some demo tracks that were recorded circa 2015-2016, and you could get hung about something like that if you really, really, really wanted to, but you’d be missing the point of the release and I think probably also the point of the band. This is Stoner Love. They tell you that right up front. It’s not supposed to be pristine, or over-produced, or whatever else. It’s supposed to be a chance for these players to get together and show off who they are as a band, to convey and live up to their purpose in crafting material that draws from their passion for this style of music. I’ve no clue what The Inaugural Collection might lead to — perhaps a second collection? — but it was years in the making and the band’s time wasn’t misspent in putting it together. I’m not going to claim any kind of discovery here like some gringo asshole — hard to do when you’re three years late on a thing and likely the only reason you ‘found’ it is because someone who knew better literally handed it to you and told you to listen — but I’m glad I had the opportunity to dig into these songs, the originals and the covers, and the classic lucidity-shunning vibe they put forth. Thanks for looking out for me, Juan.

And thank you for reading. As always, I hope you enjoy.

—

So, I guess this was my Covid week. Unless of course, I still have next week, and then this will have been my FIRST Covid week. I spent most of it feeling like trash. Really worn down, short of breath, a sore throat (which continues) and a cough that grew increasingly phlegmy. I was feeling better on Wednesday and of course because I’m an idiot I pushed myself too hard, did too much, and took a step backward yesterday. In further dumbassery, I didn’t take NyQuil last night — because… yeah. — and was up all night, finally ceding to consciousness at 4AM, admitting to myself that I’d lost, and getting up to make coffee and start this post. This will be a difficult, stupid day.

I’ve been hanging my hat on the fact that neither The Patient Mrs. nor The Pecan have contracted the plague, which it should go without saying was my greatest concern. I took a test just before I sat down with my laptop and it showed a faint line positive, so I guess I’m still Covidy, but I’ve been taking Paxlovid day and night and liberal doses otherwise of Advil, wearing a mask in the house when they’re around, eating at a suitable distance away from them and sleeping in the guest room. Feeling a scratchy throat last Sunday, on the last day of Desertfest New York, I had tested myself twice in the morning before leaving the house. Both were definitively negative. On Monday, feeling markedly worse, I was positive.

With the caveat that they don’t get sick, I’ll say it was easily worth it to be at Desertfest. A trade I’d make again this weekend if I could. It was so, so incredible to be able to be out again and to live music and just music for a few days, to really be in it in a way that I haven’t been since Høstsabbat 2019 — a stretch of two and a half years that’s by far the longest of my adult life. I’m bummed I won’t get to see Blackwater Holylight and BleakHeart this weekend because I’m still testing positive and thus it’d be kind of a dick move to go out, but for the experience and the sheer catharsis of being out, seeing good friends, meeting new ones — I got to doom-snuggle Brume! — it was so worth the few days thus far of being knocked on my ass. If I’m this short of breath for the rest of my life, we’ll talk again, but provided recovery continues apace and my wife and son stay healthy, yeah, I’d do it again in a heartbeat.

So, next month, Freak Valley in Germany. I’ll be immune as fuck and ready to jam.

It’s 6:20 now and the kid is up, but he’s got a little longer before he’s really ready to get got from his room — which at this point he could leave if he wanted to — and start the day. I’ve got some other writing to do still so I’m gonna check out here for the weekend and say I wish you well. Stay safe and mask up — just because it was worth it to be at a festival doesn’t mean this doesn’t feel like shit — and hydrate, watch your head. All that stuff.

In other words, I wish you a great and safe weekend. If you didn’t catch it, that Stoner Love record above is name-your-price, so all the more reason to dig in there.

Lots to come next week, and thanks as always for reading.

FRM.

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