Some off-laptop bumps and unpleasantness yesterday, but nothing to actually derail this process, just to make it both less efficient and less pleasant. I’m grateful for that. Life happens, and what I’ve learned is that there are two ways to be a “lifer” in music or any kind of anything, and the easier and often more celebrated one is to not have a life. “Oh so and so is such a lifer they’ve toured for 30 years and never got famous.” Cool bro. Go coregulate an hour-long throw-furniture tantrum, still manage to handle your business on your own terms, and then call me. The harder-core lifer has a life beyond the work they’re doing, whatever that may be and whatever Gen-X ‘punk legends’ might tell you otherwise.

Today is the penultimate day of the Quarterly Review, bringing us — you, cool, serene, the picture of grace, and me, a sweaty cavetroll of middle age — closer to the stated goal of 50 releases covered by tomorrow. At this point, I like our chances, but you never know what’s coming until you get there. So let’s get there before declaring victory.

Quarterly Review #31-40:

Child, Rebirth

I’m not sure there’s anybody out there right now who does heavy blues as bluesy as Melbourne, Australia’s Child, and even as their fourth full-length, Rebirth, shifts the balance the ‘rock’ end of blues rock, the emphasis on soul remains strong and central in their work. The album runs 35 minutes and six songs, and with no small task in following up 2023’s Soul Murder (review here), the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Mathias Northway, bassist Rhys Kelly and drummer Michael Lowe bring clarity of purpose to material like “Forgot How to Love,” which takes a desert rock riff to the mud, or the catchy four-minute “Heavy Load.” Working in slow tempos isn’t new for Child — they cook, and good cooking takes time — but they’re still able to make “I Tried (Newy)” move under its fuzzy-as-hell solo, while opener/longest track (immediate points) “Woman Like You” sets the stage for tales of heartbreak, boozehounding and other vaguely self-destructive whathaveyou. Northway is an ace on guitar and carries the vocals well, but I’ll put this rhythm section up against just about anybody out there when it comes to sleek, gradual groove. Not a ton of surprises, but still satisfying.

Child website

Heavy Psych Sounds website

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Dr. Space, Dr. Space’s Wicked Sonic Bulls

Regular collaborator Martin Weaver (Wicked Lady, etc.) handles bass while Tom Ashurst (ex-Hawklords) steps in on guitar and Darren Butler takes up drum duties — all of a sudden, opening track “Shouldn’t You Do It?” (18:24) makes it seem like synthmaster and Øresund Space Collective bandleader/producer Scott “Dr. Space” Heller has a whole band together for Dr. Space’s Wicked Sonic Bulls, the four-song/70-miinute outing that isn’t even his latest at this point but is an immersive joy just the same. The drums bring flow to the float, and Heller‘s e’er-molten synthery is sit-and-take-it-all-in hypnotic, weaving drones behind the dream-tone of Ashurst‘s guitar as the band dynamic takes shape. Of course, the fades-in, goes-everywhere, comes-apart-at-the-end closer “The Underside of Your Tongue” (29:56) is a focal point, and feels daring in terms of tempo even with “Splasing, Lashing, Flashing” (10:43) as preface, but the mood across the almost-certainly-entirely-improvisational outing is, duh, exploratory, and nothing in the resultant material takes away from that. Comforting and rad in kind. Put headphones on and get yourself lost.

Dr. Space on Bandcamp

Space Rock Productions website

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Shadow of Jupiter, Bones

The largesse in “Bones” and the dudely swagger of “Rumblestrip” puts Bones squarely in the realm of modern capital-‘h’ Heavy, and Chicagoan four-piece Shadow of Jupiter revel in it accordingly. “Riot Dogs” is cavernous and crushing, while “Whatever God You Fear” moves faster like a beefed-up High Desert Queen but holds to the thickness overarching the seven-song entirety here as the band play to multiple sides here, and while I’m not sure what role faith actually plays in their craft, closer “For Heaven Above” feels duly downtrodden and tired of humanity and is Sabbath-rooted beneath all its tonal hugeness, through which the melodic vocals cut smoothly as they have all along. Burl is a factor, but the songwriting is there beneath the well-produced bluster, and though the prevailing impression is in its sheer heft, Shadow of Jupiter hone a sense of dynamic as they plunge into their own distortion and gravitational nod. Bones is their first album for Ripple Music and second overall, and it sure feels like they nailed it in terms of stepping up to the moment.

Shadow of Jupiter website

Ripple Music website

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Psychedelic Source Records, Pseudopredestinated

Three jams, each hovering on either side of 20 minutes, contemplative and following the stated narrative of casting off mundane woes — busted cars, jobs, etc. — to escape for a bit into the ether. Pseudopredestinated is day-in-the-life psychedelic improvisation, featuring familiar players from the Psychedelic Source Records stable in Bence Ambrus on guitar, Gergely Szabó and David Strausz splitting bass duties and Máte Varga on drums, coming together to headfirst-dive into the aural unknown and see where they end up. In “Protoplanetarian,” that’s a noisier and more active space to answer the graceful build of opener “Precambriality,” and closer “Postpurposes” builds on the low-key shred and pushes further into the far-out. It’s emblematic fare for the Psychedelic Source Records collective, thematically and musically — yes, that is a compliment — and if you find yourself looking also to indulge a bit of escapism from your own mind, immersion awaits. Part of the joy here is never knowing quite where you’ll end up but going, going, going.

Psychedelic Source Records on Bandcamp

Psychedelic Source Records on Spotify

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Fangus, Emerald Dream

Well, you’re a ’70s-sounding heavy rock band with a strong emphasis on Hammond organ, so yes, people are going to say you sound like Deep Purple. The good news is that swinging Montreal five-piece Fangus are too busy dug into their own might-pivot-to-the-next-boogie-at-any-moment, vibe-dense sound to show they care much at all, and a ripper like “Pyre of Love” stands as evidence of this. Keys are a big part of what they do — that Mellotron on the title-track, the organ taking the fore on “Psychoid Telepath,” and so on — but the crunching tone of the guitar and the gutted-out vocals are no less vintage in their mindset, and while I don’t know that it was all recorded live, the band-in-the-room feel is palpable, ditto the chemistry, and that suits them both in the shove of “Time Gambler” and the burgeoning progressivism of “Quest for Fire,” the album as a whole rarely diverting from its sense of movement. Once “Howling Hammer” picks up from establishing its riff, they’re on their way and show little interest in looking back, refusing to be beholden even to the reverence in their sound as they convey freedom and breakout.

Fangus on Bandcamp

Fangus on Instagram

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Hollow Drifter, Colours in Time

With two full-lengths and numerous singles/two-songers to their credit since 2019, Amsterdam psychedelic progressive rockers Hollow Drifter sound duly comfortable dwelling somewhere between the two on Colours in Time, on which the first and last tracks — “Morning Fog” (2:27) and “Cradlesong” (1:48) — complement and enhance the atmosphere of the 14-minute centerpiece, “Seasons, Ages, Legends…,” which tinges toward alt rock momentarily but feels warm and organic in its acoustic-guitar foundations even as it grows more lush with the introduction of electrics. The extended piece ebbs and flows but remains purposeful for the duration, and after the first, willfully gorgeous build ends after six minutes, they remain in control in terms of the direction they’re headed, subtly building again toward repetitions of the EP’s title-lyric over nuanced noodling and steady, tense drums that give hints of the unfolding about to take place as they move into the solo. The harmonized folk of “Morning Fog” and acoustic strum/keys of “Cradlesong” fit and flesh out the atmosphere, and as this is my first experience with the band, the message of homework to do is almost as clear as the evocations of the music itself. Get pastoral.

Hollow Drifter website

Hollow Drifter on Instagram

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Veilcaste, Hellward

Keyed for onslaught, Hellward is the fourth full-length from Indianapolis veteran heavymakers Veilcaste, who bring together doom, sludge and post-metallic atmospheres to create a style that’s almost universally oppressive, even in its moments of foreboding quiet, and able to harness an intensity that extends to the “You don’t belong here” lyrical reptitions of the title-track. How they transposed my inner monologue to fit the song, I don’t know, but kudos. The bellowing “Chains” and worldcrumbling “Worn in Stone” show some influence from ’90s metal, whether that’s Sepultura‘s slowdowns or Godflesh, but at this point Veilcaste have found their niche in consuming aggression, and from the outset-descent of “Embedded” to the oblivion-march into the subdued acoustic finish of “I Am the Guillotine,” they punish aurally and conjure depths of mix in which there’s still intricacy and humanity to be found. I’ve had days that sound exactly like “Anchored.” Maybe you have too, if you’re reading this.

Veilcaste on Bandcamp

Third House Communications on Bandcamp

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Robot God, Onto the Afterlife

Onto the Afterlife makes itself a journey, and maybe that’s not such a deep insight since the title itself does more than hint at it, but the way Sydney heavy rockers Robot God take their fifth album from its relatively straight-ahead beginnings to a gradually broader-reaching mindset across the longer final three tracks — the penultimate “I Am the Night” becoming both a celebration of Sabbathianism and an expansive psychedelic jaunt in its 11 minutes — feels purposeful on the part of the prolific trio, and the procession is all the more a joy to follow after the wakeup crashes of “Soldier of Love” and the semiprog chug of the title-track at the outset, atmosphere being the key to tying it all together. Centerpiece “Cerebral Annihilation” marks the turn, instrumental save for its sample, and the builds of “Long Goodbye” are suited to round out, but it’s the fluidity of the changes within and between the songs and the obvious care put into their craft that lets Onto the Afterlife carry the listener across its 41-minute duration. Without sounding morbid, it’s a trip very much worth taking.

Robot God on Bandcamp

Kozmik Artifactz website

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Mothertomb, Dying to Live

The debut full-length from North Michigan atmospheric doom four-piece Mothertomb, Dying to Live, brims with purpose from the three-minute mood-setting intro “The Summoning” onward. And indeed, mood becomes integral throughout the five-track/39-minute stretch as “Cythraul” picks up from the intro with a 10-minute croon-doom build, unshy in its metal but not anymore beholden to the double-kick than it needs to be to get the point across. The four-piece of vocalist/cover artist Alice Gawlinski, guitarist Chance Gawlinski, bassist Alton Minor and drummer Mike Benitez remind atmospherically of dark-arts practicioners like Second Grave in their ambient take on doom metal — emphasis on both the doom and the metal — in “Beware,” but “Mountain Hag” is more stoned in its first-half roll before the operatics and screams and crush, so I’m not prepared to say the book is closed on what they’re going for sound-wise. Nonetheless, as they end with the also-hard-hitting title-track’s apex screams, the potential for forward growth is easy to hear. Won’t be for everyone, but will land hard with those who can get to its level.

Mothertomb website

Mothertomb on TikTok

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Producer, Three

With two members of Alabama Thunderpussy in the lineup — guitarist Ryan Lake and drummer Bryan Cox — and Fire Faithful‘s Jon Bone on bass, it shouldn’t really come as a surprise that Richmond, Virginia’s Producer have more than a tinge of Southern heavy to their sound, but the band completed by guitarist Mike Jarvis and vocalist Kenny Ball run that through a thread of classic heavy metal and find clarity in the slowdown of “The Climb” and the harder push of “The Upper East Side Sadists,” with the two-minute “A Natural Death” fostering swing to follow the AC/DC-ism of opening cut “Nailed to the Cross” before closer/still-under-five-minute longest track “Vengeful God Complex” seems to pull the various sides together. Three takes its title from the fact that it’s the band’s third EP, which I chalk up to a conscious choice because there’s no way they’re not ready for an album if they don’t want to be. I’ll take 18 minutes in the swamp though, to be sure.

Producer on Bandcamp

Producer on Instagram

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Putting out two records in the span of a year may indeed be the ‘curse of the driven,’ but before they get there, Sydney’s Robot God will unveil Onto the Afterlife at the start of next month, beginning their 2026 2LP cycle with Curse of the Driven to follow presumably sometime November/December-ish, if I had to guess. I’m not sure if there are differences in theme or concept across the two records or maybe Robot God just had a bunch of songs and wanted to do something with all of them, but new single “Soldier of Love” and the prior-posted title-track both bear out Onto the Afterlife‘s purported voidward delve, the sense of expanse as a priority. I don’t know how the balance will shake out either within the one album or onto the next, but if there are contrasts being set up, Robot God are doing so by pushing the heretofore limits of their creative reach.

The PR wire sent the following:

ROBOT GOD – Onto The Afterlife – May 1

Since emerging from Sydney’s heavy underground in 2019, Robot God have steadily carved out their own corner of the modern psychedelic stoner landscape. The trio operates with the instinct of seasoned players, channeling decades of heavy rock lineage into something that feels immediate, expansive and alive.

Built on a foundation of deep-running Sabbath weight, Hendrix-soaked psychedelia and the open-ended exploration of classic space rock, Robot God approach songwriting as a journey rather than a formula. Riffs stretch into cosmic jams, melodies drift through thick waves of fuzz, and the rhythm section keeps everything grounded with a hypnotic pulse. The result is music that moves between heavy groove, meditative drift and towering walls of sound.

Their reputation has grown largely through the live circuit, sharing stages with acts such as YOB, Greenleaf, Sasquatch and Brant Bjork while building a following among listeners drawn to the heavier and more exploratory side of psychedelic rock.

With “Onto The Afterlife”, Robot God push their sound further into the unknown. The album expands the band’s cosmic language — heavier, deeper and more atmospheric — while keeping the raw, organic chemistry that defines the trio. It’s a record built on momentum and immersion: riffs that spiral outward, rhythms that lock in for the long haul, and moments where the music seems to lift off entirely.

For those tuned into the outer edges of modern heavy psychedelia, “Onto The Afterlife” marks the next step in the evolving journey of Robot God.

The second single “Soldier Of Love” has just been released and is now available on all streaming platforms.

A limited vinyl edition will be available, including strictly limited and super-limited Liquid Vinyl variants.

Fuelled by relentless creativity, Robot God will also unleash a second album titled “Curse Of The Driven”, in the second half of 2026. Two new albums, one year, Robot God are firing on all cylinders.

Robot God’s journey is just beginning but the road these guys have travelled over the years has them set and ready to blow people’s minds in the years to come. If you’re a lover of spaced out blues jams mixed with Sabbath inspired riffage you will soon find yourself falling under Robot God’s magical spell. Prepare for the future, become a believer and let Robot God show you the way to the promised land, and you will see what all the fuzz is about.

TRACKLIST
SIDE A
1. Soldier Of Love – 6:40
2. Onto The Afterlife – 6:03
3. Cerebral Annihilation – 8:56
SIDE B
1. I Am The Night – 11:14
2. Long Goodbye – 8:19

Robot God are:
Matt Allen – Bass,Vocals & Synth
Raff Iacurto – Guitar, Vocals & Synth
Tim Pritchard – Drums & Synth

https://robotgodband.bandcamp.com/
https://www.youtube.com/@robotgod2608
https://instagram.com/RobotGod_Band
https://facebook.com/RobotGodBand

http://kozmik-artifactz.com/
https://www.facebook.com/kozmikartifactz

Robot God, Onto the Afterlife (2026)

In terms of methodology, it’s been a long time between releases for Australian jammers Frozen Planet….1969, but they haven’t been completely absent. In 2022, the Sydney-based heavy psychedelic explorers released Not From 1969 (review here), which was an all-in collection of adventures in aural chemistry and in-the-open jaunts. Mellow-heavy freedom, wrought and recorded. Echoland is the first time to my recollection that the trio — guitarist Paul Attard, drummer Frank Attard (who also produced and mixed) and bassist Lachlan Paine –have dug into more structured material on a record. To look back at the time since Not From 1969, songs on Echoland like opener “The Plants” or the partially-structured “Setting the Scene for Time to Stand Still” find precedent on later-2022’s Glassblaster EP and the earlier-2025 single “Night Movers,” which does appear on the download of the record in an alternate take, but seems to have come about as the three-piece were reconvening around an evolved intention.

Between the initial tight boogie of “Night Movers” and “Night Movers (Alternate Take,” which crosses the 10-minute mark and feels a bit more jazz-swaggering in its plotted flow, the impression remains centered around live performance. Frozen Planet….1969 haven’t come back after three years with a hyper-produced sound, but the shift in their purpose from pure jamming to building songs out of the material resulting from their jams is palpable even as “Night Movers (Alternate Take)” and everything from “The Plants” onward works in some way to toy with the balance between the two sides.

One finds a winding highlight in the fuzzy lead work of “If I Had Wings,” a sometimes-howling line of soloing threaded, eventually in layers, atop an unassuming backing procession. Psychedelic for the tone, “If I Had Wings” gives over to a seemingly-plotted, not-improvised roll, but the key sounds, the course of the nod that arrives as that lead line departs, and the ease with which they carry the song to the finish speak to the tradeoff being made here. For the band, it’s a change in target for Echoland. It’s not about capturing the moment of inspiration anymore, about how the songs are finding their path through uncharted terrain, but about how arrangements are conceived and executed, and how the band are able to foster a sense of purpose behind the choices they’re making to go where and when they do.

“If I Had Wings” resolves in a kind of well-here-we-are proggy bop, after the organ has stepped up in place of the guitar solo and itself made way for the comedown ahead of the also-five-and-a-half-minutes-long “Plastic Banquet,” which feels immediately plotted in its acoustic-guitar-meets-keyboard unfolding, electric guitar gradually layered in. In this way, Frozen Planet….1969 show that not only are they looking at structure as something malleable to their craft, but also realizing their flexibility in terms of arrangement, which feels as much forward-looking as it does about the present moment. Texture and evocation remain a strong piece of Frozen Planet….1969‘s impression on the listener, it’s just that those and others become tools put to use rather than, to the listener, happy accidents along the way.

And I guess that leads to the central question of Echoland, which is just how academic that difference is in the first place. From its melancholy solo line that’s conversing with “If I Had Wings” before it to the chimes in the midsection and the light Morricone-ism that ensues in the second half, “Plastic Banquet” feels declarative in terms of what Echoland is going for and accomplishing as Frozen Planet….1969 take on this bit of willful evolution, but the primary impact of their work — still feels open. That’s true for the lack of vocals throughout, for the linear nature of the structures employed, for the readiness to shift arrangements and the fact that they actually spend a decent amount of time jamming or recounting jams in passages. Does it matter to the casual listener? Is there a discernable difference between Echoland and an earlier work like 2017’s Electric Smokehouse (review here)?

I hate to say it, but it depends almost entirely on the person hearing it. If you want to put on Echoland and from the classic in medias res rush of “The Plants” dive into the multi-stage dynamism of “Setting the Scene for Time to Stand Still” and experience it on the level of appreciating the decisions that have gone into making it, the careful way that Frozen Planet….1969 have taken these steps to have more of a foundation beneath them even as they continue to harness atmospheres beyond, you can. If you want to just let it go and see where it takes you, maybe approach it without the baggage of consideration among the rest of their catalog — just hearing it — the album accommodates this as well. If you don’t believe me, they have the 18-minute closing title-track to prove it.

Now, I say “closing,” and you should know that “Night Movers (Alternate Take)” follows on the download, if not the compact disc version. But the point is that even in its reaches there’s structure, purpose behind the going. If you told me the midsection was completely improvised, or that the entire second half was improvised, or that the entire thing was improvised around a prior backdrop, I’d believe you, but the point is that by the time they’re 13 minutes deep, it doesn’t really matter whether that little flourish of guitar noise was thought of beforehand or not. A solo emerges from the low-key freakout and carries into more noise and skronk, which they bring to a speedier-shuffle culmination to cap as they otherwise might onstage.

No question they finish with their jammiest take, and the messaging there seems to be that making it up as they go is still a part of who Frozen Planet….1969 are, even if the band’s internal definitions of what they do and how they do it have changed and/or are changing. I won’t predict where another three years will find their sound, except perhaps to point out they seem committed to instrumentalism, but Echoland makes them a stronger outfit because of its ethereal reach and the shapes the band are able to carve therefrom.

Frozen Planet….1969, Echoland (2025)

Frozen Planet….1969 Linktr.ee

Frozen Planet….1969 on Instagram

Frozen Planet….1969 on Facebook

Pepper Shaker Records on Bandcamp

Pepper Shaker Records on Instagram

Pepper Shaker Records on Facebook

Thus ends my favorite Quarterly Review since the last one. Yeah, some of my motivation was in bookkeeping, in wanting to cover this stuff before the year’s done, but trying to keep up is always part of the thing, so that’s nothing new. I am grateful to have spent so much time this listening to music. I get asked a lot to listen to stuff and I’m not sure I’ve ever had less time for hearing new music than I presently have. So take a week and do nothing but that has been fulfilling.

As always, I hope you’ve found something cool to check out, and I hope you tune in for the next one, maybe in December, maybe in January, maybe this is low-key evolving into a monthly thing and eventually I’m going to have to rename the feature — and so on.

Quarterly Review #41-50:

Brant Bjork and the Bros., Live in the High Desert

The difference between Brant Bjork and the Bros. and prior Brant Bjork solo incarnations was that it was the first time the desert rock figurehead had stepped into the role of being a genuine live bandleader. He’d of course toured with solo bands, as he’s continued to, but The Bros. as a backing band gave him the space to shine in a different way onstage, and that comes through in classics like “Too Many Chiefs” and the medleys near the finish of the 78-minute set from 2009 captured on Live in the High Desert, recorded at Pappy & Harriet’s in Pioneertown, CA. I saw this band, and they were hot shit. If you don’t believe me, “Low Desert Punk” here makes the point better than I could, while a piece from the era like “Freaks of Nature” emphasizes the chemistry Bjork and his Bros. fostered during their time. As a follow-up to recent studio LP reissues, as an archival fan-piece, and as nearly 80-minutes of blowout heavy dezzy grooves, this should be an absolute no-brainer for Bjork followers or aficionados.

Brant Bjork website

Duna Records website

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Dresden Wolves, Vol. IV

Mexico City heavy rocking two-piece Dresden Wolves named their six-song EP Vol. IV presumably because by some count it’s their fourth release, but that’s not the same as being their fourth full-length album, if that’s what you were thinking. Here they offer 25 minutes of brash, cymbal-and-low-end-heavy crunch. “Tiempo” has some debut to psychedelia, but mostly in the echo, and the density of the prior “ECO” feels more representative, though with the movement of bassfuzz in “Wherter” I’m not sure one is more weighted than the other. They’re in the element stoner punking in “Robin,” and “Pesadilla” rounds out answering the Sabbathism of “Ketamina” with raw shouts and a swirling current of noise laced around a central shove. They’re not reinventing riffery, but they execute with both personality and a sense of craft while simultaneously bashing away in a manner that my silly lizard brain finds utterly delightful. They’ve been around a decade now. Album?

Dresden Wolves on Bandcamp

Dresden Wolves on Instagram

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Sherpa, Alignment

The obscuring-all-else drones of the nine-minute title-, opening and longest track (immediate points) are the major draw to Alignment, as “Alignment” is the only one of the seven inclusions not previously released in some form. Thus can it be said that Italian experimental psych post-rockers Sherpa remained experimental right up to the very end, as Alignment sees issue as a farewell release, comprised most of demos from Matteo Dossena of what would become Sherpa songs featured on their albums, which is fair enough. There’s sun reflecting on “River Nora” and “The Mother of Language,” from 2018’s second LP Tigris and Euphrates (review here), remains hypnotic even in this raw take, samples and/or field recordings seemingly a part of its skeleton. If you didn’t know Sherpa during their time, Alignment probably isn’t the place to start, since the material isn’t finished, but whatever if it gets you to hear the band.

Sherpa on Bandcamp

Subsound Records website

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Barren Heir, Far From

Crushing. Far From is the third full-length from Chicagoan post-sludge tonebearers Barren Heir, and when “Patient” ends and you feel like you can finally breathe after that four-minute assault, know you’re not alone. Uniformly harsh in vocals, intense in impact and aggression alike, and weighed down by copious amounts of distorted concrete, one piece bleeds into the next as Far From builds momentum through the megariffed “Medicine” and the subsequent, slightly more angular “No Roses,” which seems to get eaten by its own chug before it’s done. The remnants fade into the more peaceful beginning of “Abcesstral,” which serves as a quiet interlude creating tension ahead of the start of “Way In,” which scorches. I guess, if you don’t know the band, what you need to take away is they’re very, very heavy, and they know just where on the upside of your head to hit you with it. There’s a thread of noise rock, but I think maybe it’s just the trio being pissed off, and the blasting away, successive slowdowns and residual noise in closer “Inside a Burning Vehicle” are as punishing an end as Far From justifies. You know I never mention Swarm of the Lotus lightly. Well, here we are.

Barren Heir Linktr.ee

Barren Heir on Bandcamp

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Some Pills for Ayala, Dystopia

There’s a moment about five minutes in, before the solo starts, where opening cut “Little Fingers” sort of settles into its groove, and the effect is an immediate chill on the listener. Néstor Ayala Cortés, vocalist, multi-instrumentalist and the sole denizen of the project, has long specialized in the heavy and languid, and without lacking either activity or swing — lookin’ at you, “Black Rains” — as the melodies touch on a heavy psychedelia only bolstered by the abiding tonal warmth. Three tracks top eight minutes — “Little Fingers,” “Above and Below” and “Falling Down” — and while these are obvious focal points, both for how they dwell in parts and how they differentiate from the shorter pieces that space them out, a song like “Rise to the Surface” or experiments like “Regrets” and “Flying to Nowhere” use their relative brevity as a strength, and while one might as well hang a big old ‘you are here’ sign on Dystopia, the closing title-track, a subdued instrumental flesh-out into a quick fade and the only song under three minutes long, is arguably the most hopeful sounding of the bunch. Go figure. Cortés, like South American heavy as a whole, remains underappreciated, but his songwriting remains vibrant and forward-looking.

Some Pills for Ayala on Bandcamp

Some Pills for Ayala on Instagram

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Stonebirds, Perpetual Wasteland

Cerebral French post-metallers Stonebirds offer their first new music in five years with Perpetual Wasteland, their fifth full-length. The album is comprised of six tracks that range from minimalist guitar standing alone to an explosive, big-the-way-modern-pop-is-big chorus like that of “Sea of Sorrow” (not a cover). Stonebirds might be aggressive, as on “Circles” at the outset, or they might even delve into a bit of post-black metal in “Croak,” but there’s never a point at which Perpetual Wasteland lacks purpose. Each side is three songs, two between five and six minutes and a closer circa eight; I’m telling you the symmetry is multi-tiered. And as destructive as “So Far Away” feels at its start, “The Last Time” mirrors with a more open-sounding approach, lush in melody in a way they’ve been before by then, and still tense in chug, but pulled back in the delivery. They’re dynamic, they have range, and they craft their material with clear consideration of how every second is going to unfold.

Stonebirds on Bandcamp

Ripple Music website

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Yurt, VI – Rippling Mirrors of the Other

VI – Rippling Mirrors of the Other is indeed the sixth LP from Irish space rockers Yurt, as I remind myself that just because I’d never heard the band before doesn’t mean they haven’t been around over 16 years. So it goes. The keyboard-prone three-piece — Andrew Bushe and drums and then some, Steven Anderson on guitar/vocals and sax, and Boz Mugabe on bass, vocals, keys (plus visuals) — find a way to make a classic-style motorik push feel mellow on “From the Maggot’s Perspective,” where “Shop of the Most Auspicious Frog” is more of a freakout and “Seventh is the Skut” is more about the jazzprog instrumental chase. Those three songs are shorter, but the album has three more extended pieces as well in opener “The Cormorant Tree” (15:33), “Pagpag Variations” (16:28) and “Sun Roasted Rodent” (13:30), which unfurl across multiple movements, bringing heavy doomjazz skronk and more experimentalist space rock together in a way that makes me bummed to be late to the party, but also kind of feel like I’m right on time.

Yurt website

Yurt on Bandcamp

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Evoken, Mendacium

As the band are now past the 30-year mark, it is an honor to once again be drenched in Evoken‘s pouring, grey, cold, wretched visions. Mendacium brings eight songs themed, because obviously, around the slow decline and death of a 14th century Benedictine monk, running 62 dug-in minutes of beauty-in-darkness extremity. It is not universally crawling, as “Lauds” and “Sext” move with a poise that feels kin to modern Paradise Lost, but for sure is defined by and uses that sense of slow, grueling churn to bolster its atmosphere, which is duly wood-churchy for its subject matter. They’re not all-pummel, of course, and never were. The penultimate “Vesper” is a brief organ interlude before closer “Compline” lowers you down into the pit to face whatever it is that takes place in the song after the seven-and-a-half-minute mark, and there is a morose peace to be found in the quiet moments throughout, as with what might be their only album this decade, Evoken land that much harder for the emotional weight the songs carry, whatever metaphor might be applied to them.

Evoken website

Profound Lore Records website

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Mourners & Yanomamo, Mourners & Yanomamo Split EP

Oh that’s nasty. You might think you’re ready for what Mourners and Yanomamo are bringing in gutter-dwelling death-doom and gnashing, crush-prone sludge roll, but that isn’t likely to save you as the two Sydney-based acts align for a three-song/20-minute split EP that wastes not a second in terms of efficiency of infliction. Mourners present “It Only Gets Worse,” with a raw punch in its bass chug, low-deathly growls and a sound that’s so down and dense across 11 minutes that it sounds slower than it actually is. It dies loud in a wash of noise to let Yanomamo‘s feedback-and-sample start “Lifefucker,” pointedly miserable in its unfolding. It and the growl-into-a-void-but-the-void-is-you diagnosing of mankind’s miseries in “Self-Inflicted” are shorter together than “It Only Gets Worse,” but more outwardly aggressive, as if to make sure you got spit out after being so thoroughly chewed up. I guess what I’m trying to say is it’s pretty heavy in that the-world-is-dying-and-nobody’s-coming-to-stop-it kind of way.

Yanomamo on Bandcamp

Mourners on Bandcamp

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Muttering Bog, Sword Axe Wizard Cult

The craggy dark-wizard-giving-soon-to-be-unheeded-warnings vocals of Muttering Bog‘s first release, the sludgy Sword Axe Wizard Cult, become a defining aspect. The Winchester, Virginia, band’s lone member, credited only as Ben, hones a raw-throated rasp that, where parts of the album might otherwise be stoner metal, keep a tether to extremity that feels as much born of black metal as Bongzilla. It is a challenging but not unrewarding listen; a just-out-of-the-dirt basement doom that isn’t afraid of being caustic or harsh in its riffy, weedian homage. And yeah, it comes across as pretty rough. Some of the changes are choppy on the drums and such, but hell’s bells, it’s a fully DIY make-and-release-a-thing from one person that pushes limits, is certain to evoke an emotional response, and is absolutely uncompromising in the identity being carved. None of that makes it listenable, if you’re looking for listenability, but it does make it art.

Muttering Bog on Bandcamp

Muttering Bog on Instagram

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Sydney heavy shovers Iron Blanket release their new single “Void of Shapes” tomorrow through Copper Feast Records. It’s the first new studio sounds from the five-piece since their 2024 debut, Astral Wanderer, and while it’s true it hasn’t been all that long since the record came out, the band are clearly beginning to move forward.

And fair enough for the urgency they bring with “Void of Shapes.” At 2:45, it’s shorter than anything on the record that preceded and it immediately sets itself to swinging with an ethereal edge in the guitar. Astral Wanderer wasn’t without its psychedelic aspects either, but here, the guitars stay spaced out even in the shred that emerges in the first minute before they’ve even dug into a verse, and the five-piece follow the echoing chop of the song’s central riff through a hook that’s more bashing-away than careening, but still a blast as it goes. That pretty clearly is the idea.

But for being called “Void of Shapes,” it’s worth emphasizing that there is both a structure and a plan at work in terms of the sound. That they’re pushing themselves to try new things is a positive sign, not the least because it came out cool, but of course part of the appeal of Astral Wanderer (streaming below) is the range of the material between doom, stoner riffing, psych and proto-metal. They wouldn’t be the first to refine a focus as they went forward, and if they want to push into heavy psych as more of a stylistic priority, they’re off to a righteous start, but I’m not willing to bet that their next outing will be exclusively one thing or another.

Keep your head up, is what I’m saying. I don’t know the timing on the sophomore LP, or if that’s even where they’re headed, as opposed to a feeling-things-out EP — certainly possible for a band such as this exploring new ground — so for today, my suggestion is going to be to set grander considerations aside, and bang your head cosmic to this one, as it’s perfect for the occasion, even as a potential herald of broader reaching to come. Que sera sera in doom?

You’ll find the track on the player below. As always, I hope you enjoy. If you need a reason for optimism today about anything, this might help:

If Iron Blanket’s debut album Astral Wanderer (Doom Charts, April – voted #5) could be described as “weed and beer” then the new material they’re working on is “Coke and Mushrooms.”

Since the release of their first album, Iron Blanket have completed 2 tours of Australia, the most notable being the the 2025 Australian tour with Swedish heavyweights Greenleaf. Since, Iron Blanket have been quietly writing the follow-up to Astral Wanderer.

The first taste is here: “Void of Shapes” recorded by Ryan Miller at Foxhouse studios.

Void of shapes captures the raw energy of Iron Blanket’s live show in this 3 minute room rattler, with lyrical themes of falling into an eternal psychosis and musically blending their signature sound of psych and proto-doom riffage with fast paced high energy rock. Void Of Shapes will be released on the 28th of August 2025

Iron Blanket is:
Mark Lonsdale – Guitar
Nick Matthews – Drums
Tom Withford – Guitar
Charles Eggleston – Bass
Johann Ingemar – Vocals

Iron Blanket, Astral Wanderer (2024)

Iron Blanket on Bandcamp

Iron Blanket on Instagram

Iron Blanket on Facebook

Copper Feast Records website

Copper Feast Records on Bandcamp

Copper Feast Records on Instagram

Copper Feast Records on Facebook

I don’t have an exact runtime for Robot God‘s new, self-released 13-song compilation, Time Capsule Chronicles, but it’s somewhere in the neighborhood of 120 minutes by my rough count, and whether you’re checking out the band for the first time or celebrating your own groundfloorism in having followed them since they were born or whatever, it should be plenty. And it’s right there for digging in. This isn’t a ‘coming soon’-type release announcement so much as ‘this thing already exists,’ and if what I understand about modern attention spans is true, maybe more of this kind of thing should be happening.

Part of this is a fan-piece, but there’s an educational aspect too. I don’t have all those Robot God records, though I’ve dabbled in reviewing their stuff before, so maybe this is a chance for me to learn something about their progression. And maybe, in another universe, I’ll actually have two hours to sit and dig in. As it stands, at least I got to listen while I posted this before I got swept up by whatever the next thing is/was/will be.

The band sent the following down the PR wire:

After years of requests and anticipation, Robot God proudly presents our first-ever CD compilation, Time Capsule Chronicles – OUT NOW on CD, Bandcamp, and all major streaming platforms.

Spanning 13 tracks across our last five releases (over 2hrs), Time Capsule Chronicles captures the full breadth of Robot God’s journey, from thunderous psych doom to expansive otherworldly grooves.

Tracklist includes:
Peyote Sunrise, Unified Field, Volcano Bleeds, Boogie Man, Subconscious Awakening, and more. This release is a compilation for CD made up of songs from Silver Buddha Dreaming/ Valleys of Primordia/ Worlds Collide/ Portal Within and Subconscious Awakening.

Grab the CD or digital album on Bandcamp now:

👉 https://robotgodband.bandcamp.com/album/robot-god-time-capsule-chronicles

And for those who want the full experience our Limited Edition Pre-Release Bundle has Sold Out, but will back in stock soon and includes:

1 x Double CD

1 x Shroom T-shirt

1 x Stubby Cooler

Let us know if you have any special size requests.

Stream now on Youtube, Spotify, Apple Music, and all major platforms:

👉 https://distrokid.com/hyperfollow/robotgod/time-capsule-chronicles

👉 https://www.youtube.com/@robotgod2608

This release is a tribute to all of you who’ve been with us since day one and to all the newcomers (welcome aboard).

Thank you for riding the riff through space and time.

Robot God are:
Matt Allen – Bass, Vocals & Synth
Raff Iacurto – Guitar, Vocals & Synth
Tim Pritchard – Drums & Synth

https://robotgodband.bandcamp.com/
https://www.youtube.com/@robotgod2608
https://instagram.com/RobotGod_Band
https://facebook.com/RobotGodBand

Robot God, Time Capsule Chronicles (2025)

Day three marks the halfway point of this Quarterly Review, unless I decide to sneak in an extra day next Monday. We’ll see on that, but things are moving pretty well so far, so I might just be content to take the win and start slating the next one. Always a choice to be made there.

I hope you’ve found something that hits you thus far, and if not, check the below, because there’s a pretty wide variety of styles under the ‘heavy underground’ umbrella here. Hope one or a few or everything clicks.

We proceed.

Quarterly Review #21-30:

Randall Huth, Torched and Coasting

Though he’s probably best known at this point for playing bass in Pissed Jeans for the last 17 years, Pennsylvania’s Randall Huth once-upon-the-aughts played guitar and handled vocals in still-missed pastoral heavy rockers Pearls and Brass, and the new solo EP under his own name will likely be more than enough to trigger nostalgia in remembering that. Torched and Coasting is somewhere between an EP and a follow-up to Huth‘s 2007 solo album as Randall of Nazareth on Drag City, and the self-released tape is clear in its intention, conveying sketches like the finger-plucked movements of “Emptied/Rarified” and “Bursting Smile” and 15-minute closer plunge “Torched and Coasting,” which tube-screams late so stick with it, alongside the drone-meets-zither “The Blind Whale,” and more terrestrial, guitar-and-vocals pieces like opener “Lost in Your Eyes” and the penultimate “Beats Dying,” which — you guessed it — is about getting old. Huth‘s echoing and soft delivery, wit in the lyrics and humble acoustic presentation make that a highlight, but this years-in-the-making offering walks more than a single expressive path. More songs, whatever ‘songs’ means, please. Thanks.

Randall Huth on Bandcamp

Pearls and Brass on Bandcamp

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HolyRoller, Rat King

North Carolinian four-piece HolyRoller make their label-debut on Ripple Music with the eight-song Rat King, which puts modern heavy in a blender such that an early piece like “Crunch Riff Supreme” finds its place in sludge rock and heralds screamy things to come but by the time they’ve gotten to “Buried Alone” at the presumed outset of side B, the flow has more in common with Pallbearer than Weedeater or Sleep, who are another key underlying influence. But the emphasis there should be on ‘underlying’ as HolyRoller step beyond the bands that inspired them in fostering progressive songwriting throughout these 35 minutes, with a richly flexible sound — “Heave Ho” sounds like slower Howling Giant, “Forbidden Things” like Spaceslug — and a push into the ether in “Radiating Sacred Light” before they round out with the Clutch-y bounce of “Drift Into the Sun” to highlight the individuality in where they take their approach. The organic production helps it feel like they’re really digging in, but also they are.

HolyRoller on Bandcamp

Ripple Music website

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Black Mynah, Worried ‘Bout Madame

Worried ‘Bout Madame is the third long-player from Polish heavy post-rock/psych-gaze outfit Black Mynah, and it would seem to be the first since founding vocalist, bassist and baritone guitarist Joanna Kucharska assembled a full-band lineup around herself and drummer Paweł Rucki, who also appeared on 2020’s II. Vocalist/synthesist Aleksandra Joryn and guitarist Marcin Lawendowski join the stylistically subversive proceedings here, with the garage jangle of “Colleen” at the outset pushed into the frenetic shuffle and hard distortion of “Damaged Goods” ahead of the sweet post-punk verse of “Float,” which has its own grungey volatility. The tonal weight thrown around in closer “Looking at You, Kid,” — not to mention the vocal layering — isn’t unprecedented on the album that comes before it, but “Blue Moon” is more about catching up with the insistence of its snare drum and “The Rite” has its own thing going too with the quieter creeper swing and satisfying wash that pays it off. It won’t be for everybody, but who the hell ever wanted to be?

Black Mynah on Bandcamp

Black Mynah streaming links

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Coltsblood, Obscured Into Nebulous Dusk

Last heard from with their before-times 2019 split LP with Un, English death-doom churners Coltsblood make a welcome return with the four-song Obscured Into Nebulous Dusk, their third album overall, first for Translation Loss Records and first in eight years. The years have not been wasted in the sound of bassist/vocalist John McNulty (also keys), guitarist Jemma McNulty and drummer Jay Plested, who foster a ‘beauty in darkness’ sensibility on opener/longest track (immediate points) “Until the Eidolon Falls” before the outright slaughter of “Waning of the Wolf Moon” pushes death metal tempo off a cliff of feedback and raw scathe. “Transcending the Immortal Gateway” makes its presence felt with the mournful lead line topping its later reaches, and “Obscured into Nebulous Dusk” bids farewell in a not-dissimilar fashion, but the particularly agonized vocals prior are a distinguishing feature. Time would seem to have done little to dull the band’s overarching extremity, and so much the better for that.

Coltsblood on Bandcamp

Translation Loss Records website

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Void King, The Hidden Hymnal: Chapter II

The two-years-later follow-up to Indianapolis doom rockers Void King‘s 2023 long-player, The Hidden Hymnal (review here), the seven-song The Hidden Hymnal: Chapter II indeed seems to dig into its own kind of storytelling. The proceedings make for a rousing flow, with the two longest tracks, “The Birth of All Things” (8:49) and “A Union of Expired Souls” (9:34) paired at the outset for a duly epic opening statement. I don’t know if they’re a vinyl side on their own or not, but their separation from the rest of the LP is underscored by the remaining three tracks being sandwiched by a “Prologue” and “Epilogue,” so that the burly progressive metal and heavy rock of “Attrition,” “Convalescence” and “Expiration” feel like their own mini-album on the second side. If this wraps up the The Hidden Hymnal cycle for Void King, then the structural nuance here is fair enough, but the real story of the record is the progression of the band itself, which is ongoing.

Void King on Bandcamp

Argonauta Records website

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Bifter, First Impressions of Hell

Harnessing stoner metal largesse, doomed thematics and an aggro posture for the delivery that adds to the gnashing feel of the material overall, Bifter‘s debut album, First Impressions of Hell, is a torrential, ferocious offering that hits you on multiple levels before you even realize what’s happened. Interludes, the album intro “Enter Hell” and “Lover’s Quarrel,” the sample in “Mercy” and the post-script “Time to Kill” after “Ball of Burning Snakes” and the seven-minute “Belly of the Beast” give an atmospheric feel, but part of what makes “Doom Shroom” and “March of the Imp” so effective is their directness, so First Impressions of Hell, among the impressions made, can count face-punch in its number. The foundation is metal, but the affect is a party, and however weighted the material gets throughout the 36 minutes of its 12 tracks, Bifter are consistently able to convey a feeling of movement and forward momentum along with all their destructive intent.

Bifter links

Bifter on Bandcamp

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Fish Basket, And His Second Album

Write off Poland’s Fish Basket at your own peril. Yeah, they’ve got the cartoonish art and the silly vibe and the sense of rampant chicanery of sound and nonsense, but check out the proggy push of “Robots” on Fish Basket and His Second Album and the way they suddenly pull the plug on the whole thing and drop to deep-breathing, or the shouts worked into opener “NA-HU-HA-NE” and the birdsong in the psych-drifting “Farewells and Returns,” gorgeous as it is before it looses a bit of crush and winds up in classic heavy psych to end. These and myriad other moments throughout — the folkish strum of “Imaginarium” from some unknown tradition, maybe the band’s own, brought to the head of a linear build with a comedown to finish — work on the Frank Zappa model of progressive rock, which is to say that while shenanigans abound, the trio have the technical chops to back up everything they’re doing, and whether it’s the fuzzblaster of “Cardboard Racer” or the sub-nine-minute meander of “Stray in Chill,” Fish Basket carry the listener from one end of the album to another with deceptive ease. Warning: it might be genius.

Fish Basket on Bandcamp

Interstellar Smoke Records store

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Woodhawk, Love Finds a Way

Calgary-based trio Woodhawk — guitarist/vocalist Turner Midzain, bassist/vocalist Mike Badmington and drummer Kevin Nelson — offer a sharply-constructed, professional-grade nine songs across the 53 minutes of their third full-length, the encouragingly-titled Love Finds a Way. The organ adds a classic feel to “Strangers Ever After” early in the going, and the fullness and clarity of the surrounding production only increases the trust in the band’s songwriting, which isn’t without aesthetic ambitions despite the straightforward tack, cuts like “Truth Be Told,” “White Crosses” and the dares-to-shimmy-in-the-middle title-track have as solid an underpinning of groove as one could ever reasonably ask. The melody over top in the vocals and guitar shines through accordingly. They’re plenty dug-in, of course, and any record that’s going to push past the 50-minute mark in 2025 better have some perspective to offer, but Woodhawk do. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to save the world, but at least somebody out there is putting love out front with their riffage, duly engaging as that is.

Woodhawk website

Woodhawk on Bandcamp

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Liminal Spirit, Pathways

Pathways is a single-song, just-under-14-minute EP from Milwaukee’s Liminal Spirit, the darkly progressive apparent-solo-project of Jerry Hauppa, who embodies a number of characters in the narrative throughout. Presented on a quick turnaround from the band’s late-2024 self-titled debut LP, the one-tracker nonetheless reaffirms the ambitions of the album before it, while also reinforcing the idea of Liminal Spirit as a still-growing, still-discovering-its-sound outfit. The vocals here, intended to embody multiple archetypal characters like The Patriarch, The Child, The Artisan, The Elder and The Apprentice, come through a vocoder-type treatment, and so where multiple points of view might otherwise be fleshed out and conveyed, the voice remains singular. This is the tradeoff for the intimacy of solo creativity, but one gets the sense from “Pathways” and the self-titled that Liminal Spirit is just beginning to explore the stylistic territory the band will ultimately cover.

Liminal Spirit on Bandcamp

Liminal Spirit on Facebook

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Clarity Vision, Deep Ocean

To follow their 2023 self-titled debut EP (on Addicted Label), Moscow-based doom rocker four-piece Clarity Vision present “Deep Ocean” (or, in Cyrillic:
“Глубокий океан”), a six-minute standalone single that soon makes its way via cymbal-wash from its beginning waves and quiet guitar into a procession of stately classic doom metal, big on swing and bigger on impact. The kind of riff that would make Leif Edling smile. Galina Shpakovskaya‘s voice is suited to the movement of the riffs, floating over with melodic echo but keeping a mystique that reminds of mid-period The Wounded Kings, when all was dark and mystery. Guitarist Alexey Roslyakov, bassist Alexey Roslyakov and drummer Mikhail Markelov hold the march steady for the duration, and although I’ve never come close to knowing even the slightest bit of Russian, Clarity Vision remind that we all speak the same language when it comes to being completely and utterly doomed.

Clarity Vision links

Addicted Label links

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It begins with the fuzz, and if you’re not reading that in your head in some kind of Morgan Freeman-esque deity-reminiscent voice, go back and read it again. It begins with the fuzz. ‘It,’ in this case, is Being Here, the front-to-back eight-song sophomore full-length from Sydney heavy psychedelic rockers Turtle Skull. It is a breakthrough in songwriting and production, carrying a warmth in that leadoff fuzz that begins the opening title-track that permeates even down through the need-to-keep-these-server-boxes-chilled highlight “It Starts With Me,” wherein the A.I. singularity takes on consciousness and destroys its gods accordingly, or the softer-delivered “Modern Mess” and “Moon and Tide” at the finish.

And tone isn’t relegated to Dean McLeod‘s guitar. Drummer Charlie Gradon‘s crash cymbal has a richer sound than some entire records. Julian Frese‘s bass is the backdrop against which Being Here‘s lush ending plays out, and Ally Gradon‘s keys/synth add to the shimmering “Into the Sun,” which in terms of lyrical philosophizing offers “Gotta get out of your head and into the sun” for your forehead-tattooing pleasure. “Into the Sun” is third on the 42-minute long-player, and by the time it arrives, the quality of its hook should be little surprise after “Being Here” and “Apathy.” The former reckons with “the moment’s isolation of being here” and the latter implores, “I want you to live it right now,” with harmony-laced arrangements from McLeod, Ally and Charlie, and over time the album further reveals its ability to tackle dark subjects without sounding bogged down by them.

To wit, “Bourgeoisie” channels Marx to skewer the comfort class, and the snare-driven march of “It Starts With Me” is like a patriotic song for the software that comes to understand, “I am what you see your life through/I could very well be the end of you,” as it moves into the chorus. “Heavy as Hell,” another highlight on an album with eight of them, bounces under its titular confession, “Heavy as hell/The stories I tell/To only myself/Heavy as hell.” Simple rhymes, executed with thoughtful melodies and a sense of wanting to communicate to the audience without talking or dumbing itself down in any way. The openness of the lyrics is relevant both for its rarity — it’s easier to write songs about monsters, and I’m not knocking that — and for the sincerity that resonates from the songs. It’s not flinching from the moment in which it lives, as “Apathy” and “It Starts With Me” examine digital culture, but “Into the Sun” and the sweetness of melody in “Modern Mess” and “Moon and Tide” remain ready fodder for escapism.

The songs’ll be stuck in your head one way or the other, so you might as well go where they take you. And in terms of band-figuring-out-who-they-are, the fact that Charlie Gradon mixed and had a hand in the recording in addition to that of Julian Abbott at Nowave Studio — Gradon and Dean McLeod are listed as producers; Michael Lynch mastered — speaks to a sense of intention behind the depth of tone and the too-active-to-be-shoegaze mellowness pervading even the most active of the material, be it the twisting “Apathy” or the shouts following the chorus of “Bourgeoisie,” with the keyboard sounding an alarm behind a fervent push.

It tells you that not only are Turtle Skull thinking about the songs they’re writing — and while not overworked, this material has been meticulously ironed-out and arranged — but about how they’re presenting them to the listener. That the recording carries such a live feel is also likely no coincidence, but the priority seems to have been in balancing that with giving the material its best representation in the studio.

Fair enough and pretty standard practice but for the exceptional results. A calm swing and snare-snap punctuate the intro to “Modern Mess,” languid and flowing in an immediate departure from “Heavy as Hell” just before. The tempo stays geared for flow, and the arrival of the vocals — the lines, “Healing a broken heart/Playing our own cruel part…” — leads the way into a purposefully entrancing immersion for the remaining 15 minutes of the LP as “Modern Mess” (6:54) and “Moon and Tide” (8:46) are the two longest songs and very much a distinct movement unto themselves. The chorus of “Modern Mess” is lush and memorable, suited to the wistful evocations of the organ line, a kind of longing hanging there in the open space of the guitar and the echo treatment on all of it as Turtle Skull put their interpretation of mellow psychedelia forth as a place for their audience to dwell.

More active in the drums, “Moon and Tide” is also more willing to ride out parts and devolves to a noisy end for the album that seems to answer back to the fuzz that begins “Being Here,” and it does this while confessing its love for, well, everybody, and “choosing to move with all of the love I have inside,” which for a record that’s been chasing serenity no less than its sundry aspirations of songwriting, is a satisfying conclusion in keeping with the heavy-hippie point of view of the lyrics generally. Between this showcase of perspective and the high level of craft throughout that makes these tracks so gosh darn listenable, Turtle Skull have answered and surpassed the promise of their 2020 debut, Monoliths (review here), and hopefully set themselves on a course of development that will continue over releases subsequent to this.

The short version is that Being Here is a creative blossoming for Turtle Skull, and from start to end is one of the best records I’ve heard in 2025. It’s the first of those two that’s more important, obviously. The way the band carry these melodies, find balance between the moodier aspects of living through one of the dumbest eras of recorded history and the hopeful manifestations that could lead to a better world, way, whathaveyou. It’s not just about wanting to “get out of your head and into the sun,” but about how Turtle Skull make that song into the sunshine itself, and the way the music from that first fuzz onward comes to feel like the greatest hopes of the lyrics realized.

Turtle Skull, Being Here (2025)

Turtle Skull on Bandcamp

Turtle Skull on Facebook

Turtle Skull on Instagram

Art as Catharsis on Bandcamp

Art as Catharsis on Facebook

Art as Catharsis on Instagram

Copper Feast Records website

Copper Feast Records on Bandcamp

Copper Feast Records on Facebook

Copper Feast Records on Instagram