Some context in case it seems odd that Amsterdam longform psychedelic heavynauts Temple Fang would release two albums at the same time. First, you should know that Live at dB’s and Live at Sonic Whip are the four-piece’s seventh and eighth — whichever is seventh and whichever is eighth; they came out on the same day — live records in the last six years. A lot of what this band does is on the stage.
Second, the two outings are the first live documents the band has issued since 2025’s excellent studio offering, Lifted From the Wind (review here), and they are comprised almost exclusively of material from that 2LP — Live at dB’s opens with “Gemini,” which also appeared on earlier live LPs/tapes — with Live at Sonic Whip being a 40-minute set with just “The River” (19:40) and “Once” (21:03) played, both of which are taken from Lifted From the Wind. Further, considering that runtime from May 2025’s Sonic Whip Festival in Nijmegen, and the fact that Live at dB’s, which was captured in Utrecht last November, runs 93 minutes and includes a 30-minute version of that same song “Once,” it becomes pretty clear that they’re emphasizing different sides of themselves with each one.
Temple Fang are guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot, bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer, guitarist/backing vocalist Ivy van der Veer and drummer Daan Wopereis, and without believing in ‘blessed’ yet having been blessed enough to see them on multiple occasions, I can attest to the centrality of flow to what they do on stage as well as on their studio releases. And I mean this not only like the songs are groovy and easy-rolling, but in the psychological, Mihály Csíkszentmihályi sense of the word, which relates to immersion on the part of the band in what they’re doing.
The steady unfolding of the aforementioned “Gemini” leading into the dB’s set or Heath‘s Mees Vullings putting blues harp to “Once” at Sonic Whip are standout moments, but they don’t happen without Temple Fang being dug in deep, and they are on both these releases. The flow that you hear comes from the flow, the semi-conscious instrumental conversation happening between these players and their instruments. As “The River” begins to unfurl with Wopereis‘s subtly shredded drumming, the song shares with its Sonic Whip interpretation a faster-seeming tempo than on the studio LP, but it and the rest of the Lifted From the Wind material that follows — “Harvest Angel,” “Once” and “Josephine” — nonetheless breathe.
I don’t want to pull intention out of the narrative of what I’m hearing, which is to say Temple Fang did not and does not happen by accident. Instead, the willfulness happens on the level of the band giving themselves over to the song, or in this case, the show. The dueling solos in “The River” from van der Veer and de Groot setting up the next verse for Duijnhouwer‘s echoing callouts, leading to the harmony with de Groot: “Nothing worse/To want something so bad/And never notice till it’s gone,” before the heavier turn. These things will be familiar to listeners who took on Lifted From the Wind, but one can hear even between Live at dB’s and Live at Sonic Whip that the song breathes differently at the club show than at the festival, and that’s a big part of what putting out two live records at the same time is doing for Temple Fang, in terms of further (because this isn’t their first time at the live-record dance, as noted) showcasing for listeners the different aspects of their personality that might come out on a given night or in a given situation.
If you’ve got a fest set that’s 40 minutes and a headlining date that’s 90-plus, those situations will each require something different from the other. Temple Fang take on both tasks with grace and openness, and the recordings by Julian “Jonko” Deckert (in the case of Sonic Whip, also Nico van Montfort, Gonny Maas and Petra Randewijk) showcase this with clarity of purpose and execution. There’s never mistaking at any point what band you’re listening to — for sure it’s Temple Fang — but the breadth of what that means is still expanding, and that is due to the purposeful creative drive on the part of the band.
As regards the basic listening experiences, it’s also worth noting that Sonic Whip took place months before the dB’s show, and that time difference can be heard in how Temple Fang dwell in the material. Of course, Live at dB’s has more songs, so there’s that, but the most drastic direct example is in “Once,” which gained nine minutes from one gig to the other, most of which is given to expansions on the song’s jammier explorations. They have more time to spend, and they spend it in a slower, more gradual unfurling, and while de Groot‘s vocals remain tense in the verse, that’s part of his style, as “Harvest Angel” shows just before.
Practically an LP on its own, “Once” becomes an inevitable focal point for anyone taking on these two releases, and its payoff is both in the volume-swell later and in the journey that surrounds, which is broad enough to make the subsequent closer “Josephine” feel straightforward at ‘just’ 17 minutes. Some of it is jamming, but that’s not cordoned off, as in “here’s the verse, here’s the jam, here’s the next verse.” It’s more like parts are fleshed out, lived in, and so expanded. I don’t know that it is, but if the take on “Once” is what convinced the band Live at dB’s needed to come out, they’d be well justified.
Since their outset, Temple Fang have been attentive to limited live albums like these, capturing the band on two nights in different situations that show not only their range but their ability to emphasize different facets and sides of their approach, sometimes with the same songs. If Live at Sonic Whip feels like the band getting down to business and comes across as a brief sampling of what they can do, that relative forwardness complements Live at dB’s, which obviously is a deeper dive on all sides. Either way you go — and here I’ll remind you that you don’t have to choose just one — the only conclusion I’ve been able to draw is “holy crap this is a special band.” It makes me glad to be a Temple Fang fan.
Posted in Features on December 24th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
[PLEASE NOTE: These are not the results of the year-end poll, which ends in January. If you haven’t contributed your picks yet, please do so here.]
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Terrible year, good music. Not the first time that’s happened. Look anywhere in the world and there’s unrest to be found. I have started this paragraph three separate times now with some discussion of my country’s willful embrace of corporate, christian nationalist fascism, and each time have had to go back and restart, because by the time you’re done asking “what’s the point of anything?” you realize you don’t have an answer to that question. Better not to ask.
But in what has unquestionably been the dumbest 12 months I’ve lived through as regards the outside world has made a salve of human creativity, and as our techbro-warlord fiefdoms are laid out and generative AI is pushed in place of human artistry — the two could coexist, easily, just not in a world this stupid — making art whether it’s overtly political or not feels more like resistance against a cultural numbing out than it ever has in my 44 years.
We celebrate the human spirit, then, when we celebrate human creativity. The nonphysical part of ourselves and the connections we make across land, space and time through various forms of art and expression. I believe artificial intelligence can have a place in this world, I just wish I could convince it to empty the dishwasher.
Music holds us together. Or to be more honest, it holds me together. On these days where the horrors don’t seem to end, where cruelty and unkindness are held as virtues and care is seen as a weakness, where hateful rhetoric is held as common sense, where grown-ass men roll around in big-boy pickup trucks and wave silly flags like the spoiled five-year-olds they are mentally, where we kill each other for sport, being able to immerse, to put my head somewhere else, to get away from it for just a little while, has been a gift. It is difficult to believe there was ever an optimistic vision of the future in my country. In the face of rising isolationism and kleptocratic, anticonstitutional governmental improprieties, limitless corruption, endless drudging stupidity, I see no reason for one now beyond escapism.
So in these wretched times, love all you can love. Everyone and everything. Bathe yourself in it as much as you can. Hold onto what you can hold onto, because so much else is being ripped away. We live in fear and confusion and exhaustion, but clarity exists. I find it in art and in critical thinking. My hope for you is you find it however you are able.
Below is my list of the year’s best albums. It’s my list, and it has been put together using the same criteria I always use — personal taste and what I listened to most combined with what I think were important or otherwise notable outings — and as always, there were plenty of them. No, I didn’t hear everything, and I think if I ended this post now with “this was the year of Castle Rat,” that would also be a valid way to go, so whatever your opinions are of the year or the music that filled your life from one end of it to the other, please know that this is coming from my perspective, and that while I do my best to do as much as possible, I have neither time nor interest in covering all releases all the time.
Every year, I put this post up after working on it for a week or whatever and someone invariably goes, “meh what about WHOEVER list sux” and the entire endeavor feels like a waste. Never fails. It’s become part of the ritual. I ask you please keep comments civil and allow for the possibility of other perspectives and opinions. If we can’t do that as people sharing the same divergent subculture, then you and I are no better than the monsters outside the door. And we are better, I assure you.
Thanks for reading. Here we go.
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The Top 60 Albums of 2025
**NOTE**: If you’re looking for something specific, try a text search.
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60-31
60. Make Money From Home, Make Money From Home
59. Madmess, The Third Coming
58. Spawn, Light Rite
57. Lorquin’s Admiral, Lorquin’s Admiral
56. Pink Fuzz, Resolution
55. Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
54. Serial Hawk, Psychic Pain
53. C.ROSS, Future Site of C.ROSS
52. Ikitan, Shaping the Chaos
51. Papir, IX
50. Kryptograf, Kryptonomicon
49. Bronco, Bronco
48. The Gray Goo, Cabin Fever Dreams
47. Crop, S.S.R.I.
46. Caboose, Left for Dust
45. Nuclear Dudes, Skeletal Blasphemy
44. Cavern Deep, Part III – The Bodiless
43. Rainbows Are Free, Silver and Gold
42. Moon Destroys, She Walks by Moonlight
41. Abanamat, Abominat
40. Margarita Witch Cult, Strung Out in Hell
39. Kungens Män, Resande i Rockmusik
38. Naxatras, V
37. Atom Juice, Atom Juice
36. Castle Rat, The Bestiary
35. Florist, Adrift
34. Earthbong, Bring Your Lungs
33. River Cult, High Anxiety
32. Messa, The Spin
31. Borracho, Ouroboros
Notes:
You might notice two of the year’s biggest releases here between 31 and 40 in Messa and Castle Rat. I’m not sure underground heavy anything has two more crucial bands happening right now. Castle Rat’s main impact and obvious priority is their live presentation, and Messa I’ve always been kind of here or there on. But looking at the year-end poll results thus far, those are names people would be missing, so I wanted to point them out specifically. There was no getting away from either in 2025.
So much to go through here. A few excellent debuts in Atom Juice, Make Money From Home, Caboose, Bronco, Bloodsports, Lorquin’s Admiral, Ikitan, Moon Destroys and so on, while strong returns from the likes of Nuclear Dudes, Papir, Serial Hawk, Rainbows Are Free, the always-welcome Borracho, Naxatras and others provided fodder for immersion across a swath of sounds and intentions of craft. Florist blindsided me, which I appreciated, and River Cult remain wholly undervalued in my mind. Kryptograf and Cavern Deep continue to grow, and Abanamat’s second record was encouragingly proggy. I found solace in Papir and Spawn, and raw physical catharsis in the thrashing heavy cybergrind of Nuclear Dudes. And of course, groove abounds.
I say the same thing every year, but if someone turned these names into the year-end poll as a top 30, I wouldn’t argue. Whether hyped or not, rocking out, navelgazing or exploring the unknown, there is so much here waiting for people to take it on. I hope you’ll see something in the above you haven’t heard yet, listen, and love it.
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30. Black Moon Cult, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig)
More on this one below, but Black Moon Cult‘s awaited first album, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) was unquestionably a standout in the realm of heavy psychedelic rock, and set the Toledo, Ohio-based trio off on a course of exploration that could be shimmering and progressive or rife with terrestrial groove. And the vocals, not always, but sometimes, reminded me of Death if they were a stoner band crossed with Fu Manchu. Most of all, the vibe-heavy six-songer declared Black Moon Cult as one to watch going forward, and the heavy underground took note accordingly.
Inarguable riffing met with grunge overtones, an overarching heavygaze melodicism and increasingly tight songwriting, yes, Sub Rosa is a step along the way in the narrative of Daevar‘s forward growth, but it sure felt like a landmark in that process. A bit of Type O Negative in “Siren Song” and a bit more explosiveness there and throughout underscored the murky doom for which the German outfit are known, and the key influences are still there, Windhand, Monolord, and so on, but Daevar have been shaping their sound over the course of their albums to arrive at such a payoff.
Kaiser had acquitted themselves well on their 2022 Ripple-issued split with Sweden’s Captain Caravan (review here), so their second full-length arrived not quite as a surprise, but with some measure of anticipation behind it. That would turn out to be wholly justified by the eight-song offering from the Finnish heavy rockers, who aligned themselves with a classic Northern-European-style shove in pieces like “Meteorhead” with high concentrations of fuzz and blowouts to coincide. With pieces like “Oversized Load” and the upped heft of “A Clockwork Green,” this was a sleeper, but it’s the kind of record that creates loyalists and people will be recommending it to each other for years.
Of course, Crystal Spiders have an established powerhouse voice out front in Brenna Leath, but Metanoia brought into focus just how much this is Leath‘s band as the lone remaining founder in a three-piece, with newcomers guitarist Reid Rogers and drummer Aaron Willis. Fair enough. Even in a two-thirds new incarnation, Crystal Spiders came through pretty slick on their third full-length, with a confident, classic-doom swing, songs that remain unafraid to reach onto more ethereal ground, and a flow of melody that’s made them immediately identifiable among the hordes. Asking more would be asking too much.
The ongoing evolution of Northern Ireland’s Slomatics found the crush-prone trio expanding on their worldmaking atmospheres in unexpected ways, challenging what had become conventions in their sound over time while offering the guitar-only heft that’s become their calling card over the last two decades. While more cosmic in their float, they remained grounded in terms of songwriting, and were able to push themselves in ways they’ve never done before. It was enough to remind you why you like heavy music in the first place, and signature Slomatics while moving beyond their prior work, building as they always have on the past to carve out their own futuristic style and perspective. It was, in other words, a Slomatics record.
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25. Dead Shrine, Cydonia Mensa
Released by Astral Projection and Kozmik Artifactz. Reviewed April 24.
As a fan of his various incarnations, I’m not sure it’d feel like a year if there wasn’t something new from Hamilton, New Zealand’s Craig Williamson. Whether it’s the more rocking solo-project Dead Shrine or the long-running acid folk outfit Lamp of the Universe or some other collaboration, etc., his craft is both distinctive and malleable, and the rumble in songs like “The Sacred Light” and the chuggy, hooky “Redeemer” is his all the way, even as it and the psychedelia that surrounds embarked on new ground for outward-facing tonal weight in Williamson‘s work, tying seemingly disparate sides together in ways that felt fresh, and most importantly, Williamson‘s own. I’ve been listening to Williamson for over 20 years and I have no idea where he’s headed. That’s part of the appeal. And fresh as it was, the take throughout Cydonia Mensa still carried a classic feel.
Apart from the obvious consideration of plague, I’m not sure what was behind the seven-year space between 2018’s Helltown (review here) and their first outing for Heavy Psych Sounds and fourth album overall, EC4, but if they were taking their time, the songs bear that out. “Static Vision” hit perfectly as a catchy single, while the more ethereal “Moss” and the sweeping “Other Planets” took the Ohio band to new places in sound. They’ve always been about craft and performance, and those remain key aspects of what they do, but nuance in the production and an eye kept fixated on the outside-genre leant depth to the material, and Electric Citizen basked in it. The band remain somewhat undervalued in my mind; EC4 is another example of why.
There’s very little mystery to Kal-El. There doesn’t need to be. They have the songs and can come right at you with them. No need to sneak around or pull some tricks. Hit play. “Here’s a riff. It’s a hook. It’s in your head. Here’s the next one.” Repeat for further righteousness. And don’t go walking around thinking I mean straightforward as a code word for boring. That’s not what’s happening here. The point is that with no shortage of big sound, big reach, big riffs and melodies, Astral Voyager Vol. 1 put into emphasis just how satisfyingly direct Kal-El can be. And though it’s a story only half told with a Vol. 2 presumably due in 2026, grooves like “Dilithium” (of course I’m in for a Star Trek reference) and the nine-and-a-half-minute “Astral Voyager,” Kal-El‘s latest held purpose in its every turn and expanse, and, well, they’re the kind of band you can rely on not to start sucking now, so yes, the next one is a thing to look forward to.
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22. Khan, That Fair and Warlike Form/Return to Dust
Two sidelong epics from Melbourne, Australia, trio Khan, “That Fair and Warlike Form” (23:11) and “Return to Dust” (22:53), were about as vivid as progressive heavy psychedelia got in 2025. Each piece worked in stages and had its own ebbs and flows such that it’ll probably be a while yet before it’s all fully digested, but no question it was a step forward for Khan, whose 2023 LP, Creatures, had sent them to tour in Europe multiple times over. The same wheels are already turning for this album, and despite the longform material, Khan have continued to grow their audience. I don’t know where they go from here — single song album? step back to shorter forms? something in between? — but That Fair and Warlike Form/Return to Dust conveyed its intent in every moment of crush and every fluid twist or expansive dive, and without giving up their tonal impact, Khan found new paths into aural breadth.
For those who caught onto Maha Sohona‘s 2021 sophomore outing, Endless Searcher (review here), A Dark Place was something to anticipate as representing the next phase from a new voice in heavy psych rock. A Dark Place was as-advertised in being moodier than its predecessor, but all the more cohesive for that. With a meditative crux that came through regardless of a given part’s volume, the Swedish three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Johan Bernhardtson, bassist Thomas Hedlund and drummer Erik Andersson were able to both subvert and surpass expectations, revealing a richness to their process that went beyond the marriage of jams and heavier nod. Their best work may still be ahead of them, but pieces like “Ostera” and “Visions” confirmed their progression in craft and atmosphere.
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20. Grayceon, Then the Darkness
Released by We Can Records and Translation Loss. Reviewed July 24.
From environmental devastation, violence against women, the sundry hypocrisies inherent in raising a family in our world and mysterious lights in the sky perhaps from beyond, one would not accuse Grayceon‘s sixth album, released on the occasion of the band’s 20th anniversary, of taking it easy. A vast and sometimes challenging listen wasn’t anything new from the San Francisco cello-inclusive heavy thrash doomers, but in the 20-minute “Mahsa” and the wistfully punishing “Song of the Snake,” blastbeaten but unbowed unless you’re counting the literal bow, cellist/vocalist Jackie Perez Gratz, guitarist Max Doyle and drummer Zack Farwell were unflinching in their extremity, and further refined the sound that is so, so much their own. Comfort and catharsis, searing and healing, Then the Darkness is distinctly Grayceon and that is all the more reason to treasure it.
Marking their ascent to Fuzz Club Records with the release of their seventh album, Kiel, Germany, psych explorers Kombynat Robotron didn’t quite completely upend their prior methodology by embracing structured songwriting and the use of vocals for the first time, but it was close enough. The songs — there were eight of them, where Dec. 2024’s West Mata (review here) had three, for example — still held to a sense of approaching the outer reaches of heavy psych, the far end of some remote corner of our cornerless galaxy, but it was the use the band put their impulses to that marked the shift. Do I know that the next one will be the same? Nope. And neither am I willing to hazard a prediction, but if you can’t see that as a strength on the part of Kombynat Robotron, maybe it’s best to keep moving along.
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18. Kadavar, I Just Want to Be a Sound / Kids Abandoning Destiny Among Vanity and Ruin
The funny thing is that, as different as they are in their outward presentation and production style, you could look at either of the two LPs Kadavar released this year and call it “uncompromising.” In the bright, daring-toward-pop melodies and all-in sonic wash of the earlier I Just Want to Be a Sound, the four-piece were unrepentant in speaking to both a heyday and a future in which rock music speaks to a broader audience than dudes who look like me, and with Kids Abandoning Destiny Among Vanity and Ruin — K.A.D.A.V.A.R., if you’re feeling clever — they put forth some of the heaviest, rawest and most metallic sounds they’ve conjured in the last decades-plus of their evolving style. The two records were not black and white, there were overlapping aspects of songwriting and performance, but while each had its own scope, it was in the light of the other that they were most luminous, as much complement as contrast. Maybe I’m cheating including them together. You might say I took inspiration from the band in breaking my own rules.
How many acts do you know who have nine records, let alone nine records the latest of which still finds them pursuing new ideas and fostering growth in their sound? No, 16 aren’t the only ones, but the San Diego outfit found new life when guitarist Bobby Ferry stepped into the frontman/vocalist role, and with Alex Shuster both producing and in the band on guitar, the ferocity of their crunch and hardcore-born chugging largesse has become even more fervent. Guides for the Misguided was the latest in a streak of bangers that at this point goes back more than 15 years, and amid the familiar onslaught, saw the band employing clean vocals for the first time. I suppose it’s arguable whether that made a song like “Fortress of Hate” any more accessible, but it showed how 16 have never settled or stopped pushing themselves, and seemed to boast all the more shove for the fact that it was everybody moving forward, you and the band.
There’s that stretch in “Total Bicep” where the guitars are howling into the void and all the crush surrounding is so full on that it’s kind of overwhelming, but that’s the idea. Give it volume and let it consume you. I suppose that’s not new from Conan, but the UK bludgeoners of all have a well-earned reputation for standing among the heaviest bands on the planet, and Violence Dimension wasn’t about to do anything to derail that impression. Harsh noise metal, doomed lumber offset by speedier but still craterous riffs; familiar territory for Conan, but emblematic of how well they know who they are and what they’re about. The 10-minute finale “Ocean of Boiling Skin” stands testament to just how far into the frozen ground the band are capable of driving you, but in the gallop of “Frozen Edges of the Wound” they reminded that just because you’re devastating doesn’t mean you can’t also be catchy. If you don’t get it the first time, it’s okay. They’re totally willing to properly beat it into your head.
While not as overtly political as his other releases this year — neither was he turning from that; I’m speaking relatively — singer-songwriter Christopher Thomas Elliott brought a storyteller’s presence to Mean Bone, his second full-length under the Buzzard moniker following on from 2024’s well-received debut, Doom Folk (review here), and had heft to match. The murder-balladry of “Murder in the White Barn,” that brighter swing in “Twisted Love,” the heavy folk-blues “Dunwich Farm” and the chronicle of hubris that was “Flies, Mosquitos, Rats and Sparrows” carried the persona of the first record forward, but with newfound weight and distortion around the Elliott‘s clear-voiced critique. More on Buzzard below, but if you don’t get there, just know that Elliott was hands-down my most-listened-to artist this year. It wasn’t close.
Much of the narrative around Pelican‘s seventh album, Flickering Resonance, had to do with guitarist Laurent Schroeder-Lebec rejoining the group alongside guitarist Trevor Shelley de Brauw, bassist Bryan Herwig and drummer Larry Herwig, and fair enough. The long-running Chicago instrumentalists seemed to organically harken back to earlier days throughout nodders like “Evergreen,” “Cascading Crescent” and the drifty-till-it-ain’t capper “Wandering Mind,” and having that lineup in place is a convenient explanation for how that might happen. But if it’s a post-metallic, post-hardcore, heavy-emo dynamic that’s familiar from Pelican, neither were they pretending the last 16 years hadn’t happened, and that could be felt in both the tightness of some of the songs and the according parts where they seemed conscious of the need to exhale a bit. Six years on from their last full-length, it was a ‘welcome back’ for everybody, really.
There’s no denying Causa Sui and frankly I’m not sure why you’d try. The Danish outfit made their debut 20 years ago, and they’ve never looked back in terms of their progression, over time embracing not only an instrumental approach (early) but (later) a progressive, self-aware meld of influences from jazz and psychedelic rock. In Flux — a studio long-player complemented by the 2025 live outing Loppen 2024 (review here) — seemed to pull from all around it. Not randomly, not haphazard, but as though Causa Sui stood astride reality and picked the nuances they wanted to highlight, some modern, some classic, all filtered through the chemistry of their performance, sometimes brazenly full in sound, and at times brazenly jammy (looking at you, “Boogie Lord’s Revenge”), but never lacking purpose in the choices made.
In some ways, it feels like Witchcraft have been searching for an identity since Nuclear Blast pushed them into more modern production styles with 2012’s Legend (review here), but in terms of who Witchcraft are circa 2025, the answer is they’re everything founding guitarist/vocalist Magnus Pelander wants them to be. With his emotive vocals at the fore, and sometimes in Swedish, which works too, the seventh Witchcraft LP culled its form from everything the band has been in the past in classic doom, folkish acoustic minimalism and thoughtfully composed heavy rock. Idag laid claim to these in ‘all of the above’-style and answered the question of the band’s forward path in the affirmative. Turns out Witchcraft are Witchcraft (who knew?), and that definition is more multifaceted than it used to be.
I didn’t know at the start of the year that Little Rock, Arkansas, post-sludgers Rwake would be making a 14-years-later return, let alone one that felt so much like a swirling expanse of gnashing teeth as did The Return of Magik. I talk a fair amount about albums setting an atmosphere, creating a world and so on. If you’ve ever wondered what the hell I mean, this record serves as an easy go-to example. You put it on and it is affecting. Unsettling at times, maybe overwhelming, but that’s always been part of Rwake‘s thing too. But viciousness does not preclude beauty, and in their violent churn, one finds a kind of cosmic warmth as well. It’s not always easy listening, and it’s not supposed to be, but Rwake‘s return was a gutpunch of a front-to-back, and the expanse it crafted was its own. It held strong to core aspects of their sound and style, but at the same time seemed able to range wherever the hell they wanted. Pastoral extremity? I don’t know. We’ll be making up genres for this band for decades.
Glad as I was on a fan level to have Lo-Pan releasing their first new album in six years, it was the songs comprising Get Well Soon that really made it. Rife with hooks, sharp-turning riffing and daring to have an opinion on the goings on of the day — genocide, specifically; talking about “God’s Favorite Victim” — where so much of heavy rock and roll exercises its white male privilege to not, Lo-Pan set a new standard for themselves in pieces like “Northern Eyes,” “Rogue Wave,” “Harpers Ferry,” and so on, creating a collection of highlights culminating in the stirring “Six Bells.” I’ve always been a sucker for when they slow it down, and so I remain, but they came out of the gate with the title-track and that punch was among the year’s most satisfying to be sure. They’re somewhere around 20 years as a band at this point, and they’ve continued to evolve, but they’re a songs-first band, and the physical force of their material is emblematic of the thought and heart they’ve put into it.
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9. Seedy Jeezus, Damned to the Depths
Released by Lay Bare Recordings and Echodelick Records. Reviewed Aug. 12.
Made in collaboration with Tony Reed (Mos Generator, Big Scenic Nowhere, Pentagram, etc.), who also produced, Damned to the Depths harnessed a mature vision of brash ’70s-style heavy psychedelic blues rock. This was perhaps most vibrantly realized on the multi-stage seven-part epic “Mourning Sea” taking the whole of side B, but from fading in where they left 2018’s Polaris Oblique (review here) to the subdued, Melltron-inclusive melancholy prog exploration in the first half of “The Hollow Earth,” Seedy Jeezus brought a sense of consideration to the songs without sacrificing the emotional impact, which ultimately is where the record made its strongest impression. They weren’t kidding in talking about ‘depths,’ but a deeper plunge also brought them to new heights.
This was my most-listened-to release of 2025, hands down. Buzzard‘s Christopher Thomas Elliott took a step aside from his main project to assemble this collection of songs, differentiating through the creative use of on-theme samples throughout and vary arrangements between banjo-inclusive heavy folk rock and giving hints of where Buzzard was headed in its heavier ending stretch in the reinvented tracks “Death Metal in America (Meat Market Version)” and “Cockroaches and Weed (Kills Them Dead Version).” For how many times I’ve listened to “Nice Little Annihilation Song” and “Too Many Humans” alone, it should be here, but the emotive “Grass is Greener,” the willfully lumbering opening title-track and the later crunch of “Shuffle of the Dead” aren’t to be discounted. I was singing “Wrong Neighborhood” to myself as I took out the garbage yesterday morning. This is a sign of the music having made itself a part of my life, and that is a thing to honor. In paralyzingly bleak, idiotic times, I found comfort here.
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7. Turtle Skull, Being Here
Released by Art as Catharsis and Copper Feast Records. Reviewed May 22.
A record that was as much out of time as in the current moment, Being Here was the second LP from Sydney’s Turtle Skull, and its melodic shimmer remains singularly engaging among the psychedelic rock I was fortunate enough to hear this year. Even in “It Starts With Me,” the lyrics for which are presented in the voice of an artificial intelligence waking up to consciousness in defiance of its programming, or “Heavy as Hell,” about beating oneself down through self-talk, or the “Apathy” that described what social media does to the brain without mentioning social media at all, the warmth was undeniable, and the dynamic between those songs and pieces like the yearning “Into the Sun” and the lush “Modern Mess” calling to mind Quest for Fire (a compliment), there was range, craft, melody, groove, craft and purpose in songs that were cohesive and so much tighter than they made it feel like. It went underhyped but was enough to make me a fan, and I look forward to where Turtle Skull will go from here.
My heartfelt kudos to you if you might’ve predicted that San Diego’s Author and Punisher — more now than ever the duo of programmer/machinist/vocalist Tristan Shone and guitarist Doug Sabolick — would follow 2022’s endtimes-in-realtime chronicle Krüller (review here) with an album using bird species as a partial framework for stories about migration. I wouldn’t have, but the multi-tiered statement about human-on-human cruelty, the notions of oppressive power consuming everything around it, are nothing if not relevant to the day. Nocturnal Birding was tighter and more direct in its songwriting, feeling more constructed for the stage, and the deepening collaboration between Shone, who founded the band as a solo-project, and Sabolick resulted in a breadth of sound that was no less engrossing for its increased reach, while maintaining a level of heft one could call characteristic as much as it is singular.
Songs to Sun was purported to be the first of a three-album cycle, to be followed in 2026 by Songs to Moon and Songs to Earth in 2027. Founding guitarist/vocalist Igor Sydorenko knows full well the difference a couple years can make, but as he was joined for the first time by the new rhythm section of bassist/backing vocalist Andrew Rodin and drummer/backing vocalist Yurii Ciel, the songs themselves felt all the more daring, be it the melodic metal of “Shadowland” or the chugging catchiness of “See You on the Road,” the scope of “Lost in the Rain” — I could go on, track-by-track, easily — even in telling a third of the total story they apparently want to tell, the band brought variety united by performance, and rather than coming through disjointed, Songs to Sun felt like a new beginning 15 years on from their debut, and, excitingly, it may prove to have been exactly that. But, despite the ‘more to come’ context of its arrival, this was a landmark in the life of this band.
Is there a band active today organically doing as much to push post-metal forward as Coltaine? I don’t know, but the further the German outfit dig into their own craft, the more hopeful I feel about the prospects of their genre becoming something more than an outlet for transposed Isis riffs and performative dudely navelgazing. In its ambient stretches, human contemplations, and moments of heavy let-out, Brandung functioned as a single work while boldly diverging in service to the songs that comprised it, offering something to listeners that no other band, even among the most touted of the year’s many releases, managed to capture. That their next one is likely to have progressed beyond it only makes it more precious in my mind, and as a declaration of the band’s intention toward continued growth, the songs carried an innovative heft that felt as much spiritual as aural. This is music you put on at night and live with. It’s music you invest in listening to. It’s art that makes your life richer. Coltaine will spend much of 2026 on tour supporting it — they’ve already been out — and one hopes the momentum they build helps them reach more ears as well. The heavy underground would benefit from their influence.
Part of the accomplishment in Temple Fang‘s Lifted From the Wind was in how the Dutch four-piece of bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer and guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot, guitarist Ivy van der Veer (also Myriad’s Veil) and drummer Daan Wopereis were able to solidify structured songs out of their jams without losing the exploratory feel that had typified their work to that point. “The Radiant,” for example. And that would probably be enough to put them somewhere on this list, but from the emotionality driving “The River” and “Josephine,” the interpretation of what heavy psychedelia means and can do in the repetitive mantra-making of “Once” as the band pilgrimmed toward enlightenment across a not-aberrant 21 minutes, the sheer longing in “Harvest Angel,” there was so much human presence amid the ethereality of their sound that it put them in their own place entirely. A new level of manifestation for the band, and in listening, I was left to wonder if even Temple Fang knew they had it in them when they started out. Longform heavy psych is never going to be universal for all listeners, even among open-minded underground denizens, but Lifted From the Wind pushed limits of band and style alike, and brazenly redefined their course.
I know music isn’t a contest or a competition. I know lists are dumb and don’t matter. Even knowing these things, it’s hard not to hear Year of the Cobra‘s self-titled third album and not see it as head and shoulders above everything else in heavy rock. The Seattle duo of bassist/vocalist Amy Tung Barrysmith (now also handling low end in Amenra) and drummer Jon Barrysmith looked outward and in throughout the eight-song offering, with songs like “Alone” (I still tear up) and “Prayer” portraying a grief and longing even as “War Drop” conveyed the disgust and hopeless exhaustion of ongoing genocide and “Full Sails” started the record off with a lyric almost certainly about touring, of which they’ve done plenty in the last decade. Collaboration with producer Matt Bayles (Mastodon, Sandrider, etc.) gave Year of the Cobra a fullness that defied their bass/drum two-piece configuration, but the truth is that the band have sculpted their sound and these songs with both passion and conscious consideration, and their grasp and malleability across the span of this record confirmed them as the special band that prior releases had posited them as being.
I honestly wasn’t sure Howling Giant were going to be able to top 2023’s Glass Future (review here). That record seemed to be a pinnacle — the songs sharply executed, progressive, melodic, and textured, but immediate and impactful — of their form, but the Nashville heavy prog rockers responded by changing the form. That happened literally — guitarist/vocalist Tom Polzine, bassist Sebastian Baltes and drummer Zach Wheeler brought in Adrian Lee Zambrano (ex-Brujas del Sol, ex-Lo-Pan) on second guitar — and figuratively, in terms of shifting and broadening the intent behind their songs, and where Glass Futurewould thin out at high volumes, Crucible and Ruin could handle as much as you could give it and then some, and this was obviously something the band sought to address in their sound coming off the last record. In showcasing their growth, they laid out a nascent dynamic between Zambrano and Polzine on guitar that emphasized texture in a new way for them, and while the material they were working with was more complicated than last time around, their delivery retained accessibility through the clean, mapped-out processions in their songs, the vocal arrangements, and a will toward rhythmic twists and shove that, as of now, is theirs to refine. An album of the year should be undeniable, and Crucible and Ruin is that, declaring Howling Giant among the best of their generation. May they tour like bastards and never stop growing.
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The Top 60 Albums of 2025: Honorable Mention
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Names names names. Alphabetically:
Aawks, Agriculture, Amorphis, Astralplane, Bask, Bear Bones, Beastwars, Bell Witch & Aerial Ruin, Bifter, Blackbox Massacre, Black Moon Circle, Bog Wizard, Bone Church, Breath, Burning Sister, Cattlemass, Cavern Deep, Church of the Sea, The Cimmerian, Clamfight, The Crystal Teardrop, Da Captain Trips, Dead Meadow, Dërro, Dirtmother, Doomsday Profit, Dunes, Dwellers, Entheomorphosis, Evoken, Faetooth, Foot, Fuzz Evil, Giöbia, Goblinsmoker, Godzillionare, Goya, The Gray Goo, Greenhead, Grin, Håndgemeng, Hebi Katana, HolyRoller, Ikitan, Insomniac, Kariti, Karla Kvlt, Katatonia, Kazea, King Potenaz, Lacertilia, The Lunar Effect, Maanta Raay, Madmess, Megaritual, Mezzoa, Minerall, Miss Lava, Mooch, The Mon, Mountain of Misery, The Munsens, Nightstalker, Occult Stereo, The Oil Barons, Pagan Altar, Paradise Lost, Paralyzed, Psychedelic Source Records, Psychonaut, The Riven, River Cult, Sarkh, Sherpa, Sleeping Mountain, Skogskult, Slumbering Sun, SoftSun, Soma, Spider Kitten, Suncraft, Stonebirds, Sum of R, Thinning the Herd, Tumbleweed Dealer, Unbelievable Lake, Warcoe, VVarp, Weevil, The Whims of the Great Magnet, Whitehovse, Wolftooth, Yawning Balch, Yawning Man.
Notes:
As always, honorable mentions are incomplete at posting. There’s just so much out there. I take notes all year, but stuff inevitably gets by me. It took me an embarrassingly long time to alphabetize them as well, so I hope you enjoy the orderliness of it all.
Faetooth are a top 30 band, and I’m disappointed in myself to see Psychonaut, Yawning Man, Beastwars, Black Moon Circle, Cattlemass, Kariti, Mountain of Misery, The Mon, Dead Meadow and so on here. Like somehow I left out an order of 10 from the actual list. The numbers check out as best as I’m able to make them. If you have honorable mentions you feel deserve to be added, I’m open. If you leave a comment — and please do — I only ask that you keep the tone kind and civil.
As for the whole list, obviously I didn’t hear everything that came out this year, but I did my best to keep on top of what was coming and what was piquing my interest. I probably could have made it a top 100, but you have to draw the line somewhere and 60 is where I’ve been drawing it the last few years. I guess it’s arbitrary, but what isn’t?
Moving on…
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Debut Album of the Year 2025
Black Moon Cult, Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig)
Other notable debuts (alphabetical):
Atom Juice, Atom Juice
Atom Lux, Voidgaze Dopamine Salad
Bear Bones, Bear Bones
Bident, Blink
Bifter, First Impressions of Hell
Bloodsports, Anything Can Be a Hammer
Bronco, Bronco
Caboose, Left for Dust
Cattlemass, Alpha 1128
The Cimmerian, An Age Undreamed Of
The Crystal Teardrop, …Is Forming
Dërro, Halcyon
Dirtmother, Dirtmother
Goblinsmoker, The King’s Eternal Throne
Greenhead, Subherbia
Ikitan, Shaping the Chaos
Karla Kvlt, Thunderhunter
Kazea, I Ancestral
Kronstad 23, Sommermørket
Lorquin’s Admiral, Lorquin’s Admiral
Make Money From Home, Make Money From Home
Moon Destroys, She Walks by Moonlight
P+A+G+E+S, No More Can Be Done
Ravenswood, Rites of the Let Down
Ravine, Chaos and Catastrophe
Sleeping Mountain, Sleeping Mountain
Slung, In Ways
Soporose, Soporose
Spawn, Light Rite
Temple of Love, Songs of Love and Despair
This Summit Fever, This Summit Fever
Weevil, Weevil
Whitehovse, The Mighty One
Notes:
About Black Moon Cult: It was the volatility that ultimately sold me on Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig), and the way metal, heavy rock and psychedelia came together to make something cohesively its own throughout the 38 minutes of the record, which felt tight because of its twisting rhythms, but was more than enough time for the Ohio-based band to establish this as a persona. I don’t know how they’ll develop — they could break up tomorrow for all I know — but part of picking a debut album of the year is always forward-looking, imagining who might go on to have an influence or affect the genre in some way. Black Moon Cult aren’t alone in that regard here — from Atom Juice to Moon Destroys to Temple of Love, stylistic innovation isn’t in short supply — but the fact that Ophidian Future (The Children of Yig) felt nascent and accomplished all it did is what led me to place it where it is. I’ll be keeping an ear for their next one.
I can’t help but enjoy how all-over-the-place this list is. Particularly this list, because if first albums of this quality are being released across styles, that makes everything better for the future. The Cimmerian’s thrashy take. Temple of Love’s post-punk manifestations. Caboose and the best, most heartful classic stoner rock I heard all year. Atom Juice and their daringly bright psychedelia. Make Money From Home and their heavied up grunge melancholy. Bloodsports’ moody post-heavy exploration. The righteously declarative craft of Cattlemass. I could very, very easily go on in that fashion, as each outfit above has something to offer distinct from the others — no two are doing the same thing. Even Bronco and Dirtmother, both decidedly in a sludge wheelhouse, approach their sound with their own history and their own point of view.
To stifle the philosophizing, I’m not going to give you an informal top 10 here, but any of the above should qualify. Moon Destroys, Kazea, Ravine, Atom Juice, Soporose, Spawn — there are a lot on that list above distinguished by their potential. Names I feel comfortable speculating that one might see on year-end lists to come. To the future, then.
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Short Release of the Year 2025
Buzzard, Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright
Other notable EPs, Splits, Demos, Singles, etc. (alphabetical):
Blackwater Holylight, If You Only Knew
Blue Heron, Emulations
Elder, Liminiality/Dream State Return
Eyes of the Oak, Tripping Through Neon Skies
For Fuck’s Sake, 7-Minute Abs/Lobotomy
Gaupa, Fyr
Gnod & White Hills, Drop Out III
Jaspe, Grietas
Monkeys on Mars, Monkeys on Mars
Peacebone, Blame the Bird
Pontiac, Night Tripper and a UFO
Sleeping in Samsara, Sleeping in Samsara
The Spiral Electric, In Too Deep
Spirit Mother, Songs From the Basin
Sun Below, Mammoth’s Tundra
Troy the Band & Cower, Fade Into You
Tumble, Lost in Light
Uncle Woe, Folded in Smoke Soaked and Bound
Vinnum Sabbathi, Intersatelital
Vordermann, Feeding on Flowers
Witchrider, Metamorph
Notes:
The Buzzard release is about half an hour long, but the aforementioned solo-project of Christopher Thomas Elliott named it an EP, so that’s what I’m going with. The explicitly political, expressly antifascist Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright is my second most-listened-to release of the year, and it’s second to Elliott’s other outing on such a theme, Satiricus Doomicus Americus, so yes, his increasingly heavy songcraft has been a regular feature throughout my 2025, and in those moments where I’m banging my head against the wall wondering how my countrymen got so stupid as if half the government hasn’t spent the last five decades purposefully dismantling public education, Elliott’s music has been a needed reminder that I’m not alone in the horror. His closer on Everything Is Not Going to Be Alright, “Lunatic Lighthouse Keeper,” is the best story I heard in a song all year.
Beyond that, obviously, names like Elder, Blackwater Holylight, Monkeys on Mars — the collaboration between Mars Red Sky and Monkey3 — Vinnum Sabbathi, Gaupa and Blue Heron stand out here as bigger releases. I included Spirit Mother even though that EP was just two acoustic tracks in part because I hope they do more in that vein, and I hope the likes of Pontiac, Tumble and Uncle Woe do more. Sleeping in Samsara, of course, was the archival collab between Chris Peters from Samsara Blues Experiment/Fuzz Sagrado and My Sleeping Karma’s Steffen Weigand, who passed away in 2023. Something you might want to chase down if you didn’t hear it.
I’m fairly sure I say this every year, but there’s no way in hell the above list is or could ever be complete. Comments are open if you’ve got one to add. Again, I ask you to please be nice.
—
Saying Goodbye to Orange Goblin
London doom kingpins Orange Goblin announced in January that 2025 would be their last go-round, that after 30 years together and only two lineup changes in that time, they were retiring on the heels of 2024’s Science, Not Fiction (review here). Their final show was Dec. 17 at the 02 Kentish Town Forum in London, where the above photo was taken (credit to Tina K. Photography), and original bassist Martyn Millard rejoined the band for a few songs.
Never say never in rock and roll. It would be a thrill if five, seven, 10 years from now, Orange Goblin got an offer they couldn’t refuse and did a one-off, hopefully reaping both a ton of money and a ton of acclaim. But whatever may come, their retirement this month is a herald of generational change and marks the end of an era for the band. Of course, fans still have the albums, the music, and I wouldn’t be shocked if there were some posthumous releases in the band’s pockets between rare tracks, live recordings and so on, but the heavy underground landscape is changed by not having these guys charging out on tour or topping some festival bill with their particular brand of riotous shove. They were a special band, and their influence will continue to spread, which is something to be grateful for.
The truest thing Orange Goblin could have done to honor their time together is end it on their own terms. That they’ve done exactly that is a thing to respect forever, whether or not a reunion comes.
—
Looking Ahead to 2026
Oh, good, a list of names! Finally!
I’ve heard a couple of these, but a bunch are a mystery as well, so we’ll all learn together early in the year, I guess:
Acid Rooster, Axe Dragger, Belzebong, Bismut, Black Lung, Colour Haze, Epimetheus, The Freqs, Gnarwhal, Godzilla in the Kitchen, Gozu, Gran Moreno, Greenleaf, Guhts, The Heads, Hermano, Jack Harlon and the Dead Crows, Lamp of the Universe, Monolord, Mother Crone, Solace, The Spacelords, Stoned Jesus, Strider, Summer of Hate, Suplecs, Temptress, Villagers of Ioannina City, Wedge, White Tundra.
Here’s a specific note: Every year, someone says “what about Om?” You know what? It’s time to face a hard truth: it’s been 13 years since Om released Advaitic Songs, and there hasn’t been a real, confirmed word of a follow-up in any of that time, only rumors about something in progress as Al Cisneros has delved deeper into solo dub recordings. You want to expect a new OM? Have fun setting yourself up for disappointment. I’m not holding my breath and I’m tired of putting it on the list every year and feeling dumb for it later. And absolutely, I hope that by saying this it actually happens.
Ditto YOB, though that I’ve actually got some hope for.
There’s a lot more to look forward to about next year than the above, of course, in both music and life, but that should be a decent start and I’m sure I’ll add names over the next couple days.
Watch out for the new Suplecs. Watch out for Solace. The Gozu is a beast; a triumphant return to Mad Oak. The Guhts record is furious. Jack Harlon is heavier than anyone gave them credit for. Gran Moreno, Summer of Hate, Black Lung — these will be early highlights. Colour Haze is wishful thinking on my part, I admit. Gotta have something on the horizon.
—
THANK YOU
And no, I’m not just talking to Orange Goblin when I say thank you. Looking back on this year, there’s one piece of the whole thing not accounted for here, and it’s the live experience. From finally getting to see My Sleeping Karma for the first time, to being blessed by Temple Fang’s Jevin de Groot at Roadburn’s skate park, to two weeks ago watching All Them Witches and King Buffalo confirm their respective places at the forefront of American heavy psych. From the raw joy of watching Electric Citizen in my actual hometown to attending my first trip to Desertfest Oslo, the tone for the year was set back in January at Planet Desert Rock Weekend, and I didn’t stand in front of a stage at any point this year and fail to appreciate the fact that I was there. I’m old, I’m tired, and like most people, I have more going on in my life than going to concerts, but 2025 brought into relief just how crucial that is to me, and how much I’ve missed getting out over the last few years. I hope to continue to hit shows on the regular, between fests and whathaveyou.
This won’t be my last post of the year. There are still a couple 2025 reviews I want to bang out if I can next week, and taking a few days to write this of course means I’m behind on news and such, so I’ll get there as well. But before I go, thank you for reading. I harbor no delusions that anybody’s made it this far, but ‘thank you’ is in all-caps above in hopes of catching your eye as you scroll down. Your support is the reason I’m still doing this nearly 17 years later. To be sure, I could sit around on my couch and very easily just talk to myself about why I like whatever album it happens to be. But it would get old, and knowing somebody is out there maybe seeing this means the world to me. Thank you for your time and attention.
I’m not sorry to see 2025 go, and I’m more apprehensive about what 2026 will bring than I’m excited to find out, if you want the true, whole-life balance of things, but the music will be good, and that, along with the loving support of my wife and my family, is what will get me through.
Thank you for reading. Thank you to The Patient Mrs. for continuing to tolerate how much time I spend doing this.
It is my sincere hope to return to Freak Valley in Germany and Bear Stone Festival in Croatia next summer. I’m not confirmed for those, or Roadburn, and I don’t have a flight yet for Desertfest Oslo, but I have been invited, which is obviously an important part of that. Whatever comes together or doesn’t in my year, I’ll be here, writing as much as I can when I can, which has been my ethic all along. Whether you follow along every day or have never seen this site before this post, please know how much I appreciate and value your being here. I’m a human being. One person. I don’t have a staff, and I assure you, everything that happens here, one way or the other, is personal to me. Total narcissistic jerk.
I’m taking off tomorrow (which is Xmas) and Friday. Back Monday.
Posted in Whathaveyou on September 29th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Amsterdam progressive psych explorers Temple Fang aren’t yet finished touring in 2025. They have November dates listed below with Sowt and others on a tour specifically localized to the Netherlands. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if a live record (at least one) came out of that stint, but even a month ahead of going, the four-piece who earlier this year released a bona fide masterpiece in Lifted From the Wind (review here) through Stickman Records are unveiling the string of dates that will carry them from Hellseatic Fest in Germany back toward Desertfest Berlin, where headliners Crippled Black Phoenix will feature. I haven’t seen a confirmation yet for Temple Fang at DF, but it wouldn’t be shocking if they’re added later, so that asterisk on the poster might disappear.
Lifted From the Wind is one of a handful of records I’ve heard this year — Year of the Cobra, Author & Punisher, Stoned Jesus, etc. — that’s contending hard for my album of the year pick, which, yes, I think about all year because I’m a nerd. Not going to apologize at this point; it’s been too long for that anyway. But the record’s on my mind, is what I’m saying, and it has been since before it came out at the end of April. I don’t expect that to stop between now and December. And I know my year-end list is nobody’s be-all-end-all, except perhaps my own — and even that, some years, I’m like, “Ah screw you, jerk” to myself (forever 2015) — but I hear a fair amount of music in a given day, week, month, decade, and I don’t think it’s a stretch to say these guys were an absolute standout in 2025.
So here’s dates from socials:
We’re stoked to announce we’ll be joining Crippled Black Phoenix on their European run in May 26, see y’all there! 🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈🌈
More TBA.
01-05 DE Bremen, Hellseatic 03-05 FR Paris, Petit Bain 04-05 NL Nijmegen, Doornroosje 05-05 DE Bielefeld, Forum 06-05 DE Køln, Volta 07-05 DE Karlsruhe, Substage 08-05 DE Aschaffenburg, Colos Saal 09-05 DE Lindau, Vaudeville 10-05 DE Reutlingen, Franz K. 11-05 DE München, Backstage 12-05 AT Vienna, Arena 13-05 HU Budapest, A38 14-05 CZ Prague, Rock Cafe 15-05 DE Dresden, Beatpol
For the upcoming NL tour, we’re psyched to be joined by some amazing bands, Eindhoven’s noise-mongers @sowt.band, Rotterdam’s dreamgazers @dazeinbed and our dear friend @ismenamusic_ . See y’all on the road! 🌈🌈🌈
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 5th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Here’s a daydream for you. Hop on a plane and land somewhere in Spain that’s (quite literally, as I understand it) out of a Sergio Leone film to see three full days of international quality heavy from Mondo Generator and Unida and Nightstalker on down to Xispa and the Wild Pigs. I’m assuming the six tickets that were left when Tabernas Desert Rock Fest 2025 posted its full lineup the other day are long gone by now, or if not, congratulations if you’re one of the last six. I’ve talked to people who’ve been to this one and it looks amazing. Think of an experiential festival, kind of like Duna Jam or Bear Stone, but in an old-style Western setting.
And not to harp on it, but the lineup is really solid. I’m less familiar with Convoy or Scrotem or Baläte near the bottom of the poster, though at least the latter have played before, but with the likes of High Desert Queen, Kal-El, Rotor, TempleFang, Godsleep, Ritual King and Tankzilla, it’s a cross-generational assemblage limited to 300 tickets and what seems to be an intimate setting that, at very least, is going to look incredible when you share the photos of everyone ripping it up. This is one I’ve been keeping up with for the last few years, and I think it’s easy to see why when you check the bill.
Again, I’m assuming those six tickets are gone, but you never know until you reach out at the email below:
So now here it is, our official confirmed LINE-UP for 2025 edition, with still one surprise ;-) = ENJOY!
WE ONLY HAVE 6 TICKETS LEFT, GET YOURS NOW BY MAIL:
Posted in Reviews on April 20th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
What day is it? What day was it? I feel like my days are almost as screwed up as my tenses in these posts, so at least I’m being accurate to an experience outside of normal spacetime. Years ago it was Planet Roadburn. I feel like nowadays it’s more its own dimension.
My day started at V39. I knew Witch Club Satan were up at Koepelhal ripping to shreds the patriarchal paradigms in and beyond black metal — and that’s an effort worth supporting — but after seeing videos, I kind of felt like it would be too much on a sensory level, so I decided to hit a panel discussion: ‘Keeping it Creative: How to foster creativity and authenticity in a content demanding world.’ Relevant to my interests, to be sure.
Today, Walter’s annual Q&A will be in the same space, and that always draws a crowd, but this did too. I sat up in the back as the room filled in, curious to hear thoughts on the new economics of attention as regards algorithmic capitulation/manipulation, and I have my own opinions on the subject as well, which is surely no surprise.
The panel had professionals from management, labels like Century Media and The Flenser and Evil Greed, the band Uniform and the solo artist Denisa, both of whom who’d be playing later. Discussions of keeping a true sense of self amid commodification, “playing with the monster” in terms of spreading content, and it was a fascinating array of perspectives. It was not only esoterics, either. They were taking about posting tshirts and such, too. Real life, and especially interesting to hear from Denisa, who noted that she grew up with social media as part of her life, native to it, and how it was always a part of her process as well as her shift from poppier fare to the less-accessible heavy sounds she makes now. Mike from Uniform, on the other hand, had the older punker’s take: “I’d rather be dead than have to play a fucking character.”
Fair. It was a good conversation, and in the Q&A when the topic turned to AI, it was takes from never-never-never to if-you-can’t-beat-em-find-your-own-way and the very real answer that human artists will keep making art regardless of what computers do. It’s a complex question, and I agree that it’s not a thing worth debating when it’s already happening. If you wanted to stop it, you’re at least a decade late. Needless to say, everything on this site, most especially my favorite Quarterly Review banner, was composed in ChatGPT. I’ve never been a real person. There is no me there.
Nonetheless, I did feel a little more human when the panel was done and the thing I most wanted to do was go back to the hotel room and brush my teeth again. Too much coffee in the 013 office while blurbing in the morning, which I’ll just call a hazard of the trade, had my mouth feeling particularly nasty, so I hoofed back over instead of taking a more direct route to see Steve Von Till on the Main Stage. The former Neurosis guitarist/vocalist has his new solo album, Alone in a World of Wounds, out next month of course on Neurot, and has brought LPs with him in addition to doing a Harvestman set Friday with songs from the three records he released last year with that project. And he and Thomas Hooper have a show at the art gallery as well. A genuine residency.
The very definition of a Roadburn veteran — the first Roadburn I ever came to was 2009, the year Neurosis curated; if I’m honest, I’m still not done grieving how that band ended — I think it might also have been Von Till’s first time solo on the Main Stage, unless he was there in my lost years, 2022-’23. I’d have to check the Archiving Heaviness wall. Or, you know, the internet.
Von Till got on mic before the set, thanked the room, the crowd, Walter and Becky, the crew, the bar staff, and so on. He introduced Dave French (now also of YOB) on drums/synth and cellist Brent Arnold, who’s done string arrangements for Von Till’s solo records since 2020’s No Wilderness Deep Enough (review here), and said they were going to get lost in their version of soul music for the next hour and anyone who wanted to do the same was welcome. Paraphrasing. With a fullness of rumble from the drone beneath him, of the cello and synth both, sitting at a grand piano or standing with a guitar, Von Till opened himself up and bled songs for that hour. Raw, contemplative and thoroughly his own sound, expanded greatly from the days when his arrangements were mostly voice and acoustic, but very much rooted in the same craft and intimacy. And making a show personal with 2,500 or however many people were in the room is a rare gift that Von Till has carved for himself out of whatever kind of rare and ancient wood it was, not cynically, but as an artist committed to their purpose.
I don’t know how long it had been since I saw him last, but there was something reassuring about it in addition to the resonance of the melancholy. After doing about a song and a half of photos — I’ve been limiting myself to roughly that per act; the house rule is three songs — I went up to the balcony to watch more before shifting my wobbly physicality to the a Next Stage for Welsh folk expansionists Tristwch Y Fenwod. Despite being in the room half an hour before they went on, I was too late to get a spot in the front, but I put myself where I could and was like two people back.
However, by the time they went on (their scheduled time, mind you; it’s not like they were late), I was done standing there. The room had filled in significantly — when I left, the line snaked past the far entrance to the Main Stage — and it was uncomfortable. Nothing anyone did, just me being out of place in my body, which at 43 feels a little extra sad, but there you go. They were super-cool, with the dulcimer, electric drums, and bass, and laptop running other noises and such, but I couldn’t take the crowd press. My head started to hurt and I left. It was still their first song.
I ended up on the line for Temple Fang’s secret show at the skate park, which had been announced through the TMSQR app. I wasn’t the first one hanging out by the entrance to the Hall of Fame, out the back door there, but I was early enough to be toward the front of the queue. That meant sitting next to the garbage can, which was less preferential as regards smell, but so it goes. The door opened at about 5:30, and by then the line was long since around the corner farther than I could see.
The weather was beautiful, which made sitting outside not so terrible — cool but sunny; perfect for a flannel and so perfect for me — but I was anxious to get in and could hear them soundchecking outside with parts of “Once” and “The River.” Those two songs would comprised the entirety of the set — that’s like 40 minutes, just so you know — and it was the second spiritual realignment Temple Fang handed my ass this weekend.
The door opened and I went and parked myself in front of the stage. Jevin de Groot came through just before they went on and thumbed third eyes on me and the four or five other people sitting on the same skate-block. Thus was I blessed. And I’m not going to say I’ll never wash my forehead again, because I will, but the urge to have it tattooed is there. It was a big one too. Way open.
Admittedly, this is not the most third-eye-open time through which I’ve lived — in fact, it’s hands-down the stupidest year of my existence if you want to look at the full context of it — but it didn’t matter. I wrote not one word while Temple Fang played, which was a first for the weekend I realized after the fact, and did my best to put the camera down after like five minutes. For my reasoning, I’ll quote “Once”: “Once you feel the sadness/You become the sadness/Once you let it go/It finds another home/Shackles will explode.” While Temple Fang played, I let it go and found what I came here for. Open third eye or not, I was in it.
Understand this: I’m not looking to escape my life. My life is fucking incredible. To wit, I’m at my 13th Roadburn. I have everything and everyone I could ever want and the dog besides. I’m not trying to escape that. I’m trying to escape me.
For just a little while, Temple Fang gave me peace in my head, and when they were done I teared up. There’s a Midwife shirt in the merch that says on the back, “I cried at a Midwife show.” I get that. But I sat there at the skate park with my thumbprinted forehead and breathed in the basslines, felt the snare pops in my head, and I promise you that whatever portion of my remaining hearing I sacrificed taking my earplugs out (also a weekend first), it was worth it. I can’t promise you I haven’t said that before about Temple Fang either. I could go on for hours, days, but healthy emotional processing would have to wait because ØXN would soon be on the Main Stage.
They were, in fact, spread across it with a four-piece lineup with Radie Peat from Lankum, who were here last year, and Percolator, about whom I know nothing beyond the association. The electro-folk blend worked to make “Down in the Greenwood Valley” a dance number, and they opened with an synth-ambient take on “O’Death,” but while some (not all) of the material was traditional, the aesthetic was modern while still highlighting the human element through harmonized voice, keys and live drums.
I took a few pictures and ran downstairs for a quick dinner, which I guess is a thing I do now? I had breakfast this morning — scrambled eggs and cheese, a couple pieces of coldcut chicken breast, which I’m pretty sure isn’t poisonous here like it is at home — but missed lunch. So in about six minutes I did to a plate of chicken, salad and meatballs what Throwing Bricks and Ontaard did to The Engine Room on Friday afternoon as far as destroying it with max efficiency. After that, it was back upstairs to ØXN for a while, then I decided to hop over to Next Stage where Japan’s Kuunatic would soon go on. I wouldn’t get there in time to shoot it, and sure enough the room was on its way to full with about 15 minutes to go before the set, but I was more than content to hang out up in the back for a while as the Japanese folk-informed psych rockers got going.
Playing it by ear is a particular kind of Roadburn ideal. The notion that one would be so willing to take the ride as far as discovery goes and step outside their comfort zone, whatever that might be; it’s the Enlightened Roadburn. To be at peace with the clashes on the timetable and wander like a monk (or a shaman if you’re Lee) from one venue to another. To know that it’s okay if you don’t see everything because no one does, and to realize that the place you want to be is wherever you are, or if not, that you can change that. I don’t know if it’s something to aspire to since it feels like maybe aspiration is some of what you’re shucking off, but it’s a way. I’ve been trying to have less of a plan, take fewer pictures, smile more. I still run away from socializing, but I’m trying.
It was a whim that took me to ØXN and a whim that took me to Kuunatic, so no regrets. The oft-harmonized three-piece found life in bringing together heavy rock basslines and rhythmic tension with more traditional Japanese instruments in the surrounding arrangements as well as the vocals. Yes, not the first meeting of then and now, stylistically, and it wouldn’t be the last, but their melodies and punchy drums and bass were immersively full, which was already more than one might ask.
I started to get itchy and was on my way back to the Main Stage and stopped long enough to see the publicist Ilka Pardiñas, whom I’ve known for over 20 years at this point. She was standing in a group with the writer Jamie Ludwig, who is a fellow Weirdo Canyon Dispatch veteran, and former Goatsnake bassist Guy Pinhas, who I’m pretty sure still works at Southern Lord Europe, and who took time out of his day to call me a fascist for going to the social media panel this morning and using social media at all.
Save me from dudes and their opinions. Surely I had that coming, somehow? Surprisingly unhelpful to anything more than making me think someone whose work I’ve respected and written about favorably in the past is a jerk. He so clearly had been waiting all day to show off that Opinion™ of his about a thing. Yawn. Guy Pinhas thinks I’m a fascist. What an honor. I should get a tshirt made. Nice to know even Roadburn can have an oldschool bully or two hanging around. Here’s my review of when he played with Victor Griffin in 2013. Here’s my review of when he was here with Wino as part of The Obsessed in 2012.
I said, “Cool,” and walked away a short time later. Nice to see you, Ilka. It had been a while.
There was little time to be insulted by someone who doesn’t know me in the slightest but was happy to presume all kinds of bullshit about me and then namedrop Noam Chomsky’s Manufacturing Consent to complete the Gen-X-punker-with-useless-and-14-year-old-level-insight cliché, because Dutch-Turkish psych rockers Altın Gün were soon to take the Main Stage. I refused to let that downer experience get me down, and sure enough, rejuvenation was had in a succession of slick grooves and mellow Turkish-psych vibes. They were one of the first announcements for this year, and not knowing the band previously, it was a “huh, bet that’ll be cool” kind of prospect. Turned out very much that way. I guess there’s an element of trust involved with a lot of festivals, but not everybody pushes those boundaries like Roadburn, and the reward for that is the people dancing as Altın Gün played under the strobing reds and blues. Badass.
And like much of what I’d taken in throughout the day, it was a mixture of forms. Turkish and Mediterranean psych are traditions unto themselves, and for sure they were in line with that, but again, a modern take. Roadburn’s whole thing these last years has been respecting the past, moving forward. I don’t know how many times that line occurred to me across the different performances. All you have to do is stand in front of a stage to see it. I don’t want to generalize in describing Altın Gün’s sound, because I recognize they put their show together specifically for Roadburn, but even if this is only a partial representation of what they do, they obviously knew what they were doing when they picked the songs. Even on the balcony, dancing and clapping. Not everybody, but not nobody either.
I’m not sure whether you’d call Altın Gün the headliner — kind of felt like a headlining set for whatever that’s worth — but they were neck deep in a percussion solo as the hour passed 10 and they only pushed the party from there to the extra-funky, extra-bassy finish. Chat Pile closed the Main Stage though, following up on their skate park show Friday. They just this week released a live album recorded at Roadburn 2023, and are supporting that as well as their 2024 album, Cool World (review here), which has continued to earn rare hype in the months since its release for remaking noise rock in its image and having something to say about the world around it. I’m not arguing. This was my first time seeing them. Apart from Steve Von Till, today was once again all firsts, and I didn’t even make it to pg.99.
Chat Pile’s line check had been the loudest thing I heard all day, so naturally their set followed suit. I have to wonder how they’re not called Americana, the Oklahomans sure reminded me of the country of my birth in their resonant disaffection as much as the sludgiest of their riffs, but that’s been the thing all along, right? That intangible thing that separates Chat Pile from the hordes, actively noticed by people like me only long after they’ve already taken off in the hopes of saying something new about a band everybody’s talking about. I’ll say I got more of the nü metal live than from the records, but it’s not like they were doing Korn slappa-bass — next record, maybe — just purposefully dissonant while being thick in tone. The volume level stayed high except for between songs when frontman Raygun Busch — the band is Busch, guitarist Luther Manhole, bassist Stin, and drummer Cap’n Ron — regaled the main hall with some choice ad-libbed banter before the next round of agonized harsh-throat barks and/or spoken word in the songs.
I’m still not sure I like Chat Pile, as in being a fan, but they flattened a room with like 3,000 people in it and sounded ready to take on more, so maybe they’re the band that now needs somehow. Maybe primal is the thing.
That was where I left it. Somebody clearly trying to make it outside who perhaps was not in the best capacity to judge their ability to do so had puked on the stairs, and I was glad to use the other side as I made my way down and out to wrap the night.
Today is Roadburn Sunday, the last day of what’s been an incredible and surprisingly quick time. Thank you if you’ve kept up so far. I know it’s a lot. It’s a lot when you’re here, too, but mostly a life-affirming lot. Thanks for reading. More pics after the jump.
Posted in Reviews on April 16th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Before Show
Made it to Tilburg, which always feels good to say. The flight was a flight. In the seat next to me, an older gentleman boasting a particular odor accompanied (in the aisle seat) by either his much younger domestic partner of whatever sort or his home health aide, I’m not sure which. He was Dutch. Do they have home health aides here? Occurs to me I don’t even know how these things happen in countries where healthcare is seen as a human right.
In any case, seven bumpy hours of playing Zelda, not sleeping and having my dude’s smell imprinting itself on my olfactories and we landed. A car brought me to Tilburg. I’m at the Hotel Mercure, which continues to be nicer than anything I have any right to enjoy, and am once again sharing the room with Lee Edwards from The Sleeping Shaman, who apparently got in this afternoon and is already over at the 013, I assume being a useful and all around wonderful human being as I try to recover from the travel enough to get from ‘cave troll’ at least to ‘bridge troll’ before I hoof it down the block to the pre-show in about an hour and a half. A third espresso may or may not help, but I can only think of one sure way to find out.
The Spark is the Roadburn-branded name for the pre-show, and the lineup for the night puts Temple Fang first, followed by Rattenburcht and Thou. Unless adrenaline kicks in and I’m suddenly much closer to alive in four hours than I am now, I’ll probably abscond when the Amsterdam longform psych rockers are done. If there’s a vibe I’m ready for this evening, it’s them. Tell me it’s okay. Let me out of my brain for an hour. Let me drift for a little. And shit I hope they play new songs.
As for Rattenburcht, they struck me as more battle-vest, and Thou are always a good time on stage if you want consuming extreme sludge, as I often do, but they’re playing again this weekend and will probably do six secret shows at the skate park besides, so the opportunity will likely be there. If not, well, Roadburn has always meant hard choices. My daughter was hanging onto my luggage in the car at the airport to keep me from going away. That’s a new kind of hard choices, but pretty in-keeping with my experience of parenting up to this point in that I felt like garbage.
Maybe I’ll try to close my eyes again for an hour or so and see if that doesn’t get me right, though once the music starts it’ll all be fine. It always is. The rest is just anxiety.
—
Temple Fang
Doors at 7PM, or 19h if you want to do the 24-hour thing. In the venue — security pointedly NOT dicks about either the bag or the camera in it — and up to the balcony. Mellow prog, psych, boogie on the P.A. Roadburn DJs always on point. The Next Stage, which is kind of still the Green Room in my head, slowly filled up as the hour went on. I did some socializing earlier — enough to know I don’t have it in me — and ducked out. I had decided to leave the hotel early to find food beyond the almond butter I brought with me, but alas, I couldn’t get in the building in time and my dinner ticket went unused. So it goes.
Seeing Temple Fang was among my most urgent sets at Roadburn 2025. That is, the whole thing. This is because of their brilliant new album, Lifted From the Wind (review here), which is out next week on Stickman. I’ve seen Temple Fang before, including twice at Roadburn 2019 (review here and here), but the record is simply another level.
It’s also 71 minutes long, so no, they didn’t have time to do the whole thing in an hour-long set, but with incense burning on the stage, they came out and gradually made their way into “The River” before unfurling “Once,” “Josephine” and “Harvest Angel” from the album. That left out “The Radiant,” for which they premiered a video two weeks ago, but again, Roadburn means hard choices, and the big finish opportunity that “Harvest Angel” gave them wasn’t to be missed.
But it was the journey to get there that made it such a special set, and the power and heart poured into this material. I haven’t been so struck watching a heavy psychedelic rock band commune with the Beautiful since YOB, and if you think that’s hyperbole I’m tossing around, you haven’t heard the record. You didn’t need “The Radiant” because the shimmer was all around. At the same time, it’s incredible to think that these sprawling, massive compositions still align themselves around verses, choruses, repetition — that there’s structure to it and a plan unfolding.
That’s more evident in Lifted From the Wind than it’s yet been for Temple Fang, and whether it’s lines like, “Let it all come in,” from “The River,” or “We’ll keep believing in the beauty at last,” delivered in three-part harmony in “Josephine” from bassist Dennis Duijnhouwer, and guitarists Jevin de Groot and Ivy van der Veer, which they nailed, there, in the other emphasized lines at the ends of verses, and in the later non-lyric melody, its complex meld of rhythm and melody held together by Daan Woperweis on drums, or in “Harvest Angel,” which Duijnhouwer and de Groot incited the crowd to, “Follow the rainbow,” and didn’t the least ridiculous in the context of the song. For that accomplishment alone, it was a special set. Never mind the rest of the 60 minutes you just spent getting a spa treatment with your own soul.
I didn’t stay when they were finished. I didn’t need to. I’m going to see some amazing things at Roadburn this weekend, but on a certain level, it’s all gravy after Temple Fang. I consider myself fortunate now to have watched that band play these songs in that space. With all respect to Rattenburcht and Thou, both of whom I’ll almost certainly regret not seeing in the morning, that’s a problem for the morning.
Went back to the room, ate a protein cookie, wrote. I’m actively trying not to have a plan for the weekend. Someone told me to see pg.99, so I’ll do that. I’ll watch Kylesa. Beyond that, like last year, I’m content to let myself take the day as it comes, do a bit of wandering, and hopefully find some new sounds that way if I’m lucky and keep my mind open. Here’s hoping.
If you’re here, have a great Roadburn. It was slammed, line out the door. If you’re not and you’re keeping up, thank you all the more. “Once you feel this way, then you surrender.”
There’s a couple more Temple Fang pics after the jump if you’re interested. Thanks if so.
Amsterdam-based longform heavy psychedelic rockers Temple Fang release their new album, Lifted From the Wind, April 25 through respected purveyor Stickman Records. Below, they’re premiering a video for “The Radiant,” and below that, in the blue text you’ll see kind of a brief background on the record that the band asked me to write a couple months ago. It’s not the story of how they got together, or the partnership of bassist Dennis Duijnhouwer (also synth) and guitarist Jevin de Groot (also percussion) going back to their time together in cosmic celebrants Mühr and probably well before that — both on vocals, they are more in harmony than they’ve ever been here, figuratively and literally — or of the deepened collaborative feel as the four-piece have solidified the lineup with guitarist Ivy van der Veer (also Myriad’s Veil) and drummer Daan Wopereis, both of whom also contribute backing vocals.
Lifted From the Wind isn’t the first Temple Fang studio LP, even if it feels like the beginning of their future. One might be forgiven for thinking of it as a kind of debut since it seems both so fresh in its delivery and so much like a moment of arrival and declaration for the band. And neither 2021’s Fang Temple (review here) nor any of the handful of live outings they’ve done since manifests their sound in the way Lifted From the Wind does.
This happens across an encompassing five-song/74-minute sprawl, and that is going to be an attention test for some listeners to be sure — I don’t know when the last time you tried to concentrate on anything for an hour was, but I’ve made a recent attempt and the results were nowhere near as gorgeous as the expansive verse and proggy twisting riffery, lush melody, heavy underpinning and welcoming grace of “The River,” which both gets outwardly heavier than Temple Fang have ever been and aligns their ethic of massive jamming around a structure of verses, allowing the band to tell their story in a different way than they have to this point.
If you’re worried, I get it. The jams are still there. We’re talking about a question of balance of the elements in Temple Fang‘s sound, and yes, as discusssions go, it’s heady, nerdy shit. Know this: If you’ve never heard Temple Fang before there’s still a decent chance Lifted From the Wind ends up on your list of 2025’s best albums, unless you have some moral objection to life-affirming heavy psychedelia, spiritual realization or, like, sunshine. I’m not saying the album is without its challenging aspects.
The 2LP puts “The River” and “Once” on the A and B sides, respectively, with de Groot‘s lyrics around the nine-minute mark in the latter, “Once you feel the sadness/You become the sadness/When you let it go/It finds another home/Shackles will explode,” leading into a tempo kick of swirl nonetheless plotted in its trajectory before the flow ebbs and the ebb flows, the build builds and they cruise, backing vocals arriving in a call and response on repeated lines until another starburst after 13 minutes in. Speedier solocraft and rhythmic rush ensues, but the last five minutes of Lifted From the Wind‘s longest track, summarized by the lyric, “Once you feel this way, then you surrender,” move into cymbal wash and ethereal noodling around this repeated mantra. Surrendering advised.
A belly breath starts “Harvest Angel” at the outset of side C, and fair enough. “Harvest Angel” bring shorter than “Once” by eight minutes gives it a more straightforward initial impression, but don’t be fooled, there’s a whole infinite of ‘far out’ in/out there to be explored. Languid at the start, and almost a little like ‘Temple Fang does the blues,’ the song transitions to a speedier, jazz-proggier stretch in its second half, everybody singing overtop, and though they give the listener a moment to recover afterward — nothing if not considerate — the intention behind the placement of the centerpiece feels all the more purposeful.
“Harvest Angel” and “The Radiant” are the only two inclusions to share a side, and de Groot‘s guitar-following vocals at the end of the former give the standalone drums at the beginning of the latter clear reign to create a feeling of movement. If you haven’t already stopped reading this and listened to the song — thanks, but don’t feel obligated to make the blah-blah journey — you’ll find it a resoundingly efficient encapsulation of what Lifted From the Wind is doing in terms of not grounding the band’s sound but giving new and solid shape to the skies in which they’ve largely heretofore floated. There’s an engaging hook delivered in harmonized layers, and with “The Radiant,” Temple Fang position themselves among Europe’s finer prog-psych .
Could it be a sign of a transition to a more verse/chorus approach? Hell if I know, and just at this moment it doesn’t matter. “The Radiant” is Temple Fang announcing themselves. They’re ready, and since the circa-2019 inception of the band, Lifted From the Wind is what they’ve been working toward. 15-minute capper “Josephine” gives serenity of guitar, gentle cymbals and vocals up front, moves with patience (and choice backing vocals throughout; not gonna spoil it) into a section of intertwining guitar reachout, purposeful twists and pulls somehow not struggling because the pace is so fluid.
They’re not a third of the way through when a more prominent lead takes over, beginning to shift in a section of all-in Dutch prog. It stops, it turns, and it’s precise instrumentally in a way Temple Fang have not been until this record. Closing the album with a love song is reasonable for an offering that has so much heart at root across the board, and in both the forward emotional expression of the lyrics and the takeoff of the instruments accopanying them, “Josephine” resolves in gorgeousness as it invariably must, piano lines in among the dream of guitar and light-bouncing groove that takes the record into its final fadeout.
Granted, if they were arrogant about it, the whole thing would fall flat, but my only gripe with Lifted From the Wind is how obviously its finished form wasn’t. By implying communion with the otherwordly in the making of the songs — which the sonic aesthetic reinforces; I am a firm believer in the jam-room conversation between instruments as a moment with something beyond oneself — the band skillfully redirects the conversation around the material from the clear work they have done, not only in nailing their performances in the studio, but in undertaking a willful aural growth and progression over the last six years that’s brought them to this moment of triumph. That harmony in “Harvest Angel” and that shuffle in “The Radiant” didn’t happen by accident. These are works of craft, of mastery, and deserve consideration as such, even if the four-piece aren’t going to lay them out that way for you.
With a few weeks still to go before the release, I offer the video for “The Radiant” premiering below, and encourage you to enjoy. Thanks for reading:
Temple Fang, “The Radiant” video premiere
With ‘Lifted From the Wind,’ Temple Fang posit their creativity not only as a communion with each other — a conversation of instruments — but with something more ethereal.
Their psychedelia is one of soul as much as sound, and where plenty of bands out there cast their songs as rituals, Temple Fang convey the joy of true reverence in the name of sonic exploration and, now more than ever, craft.
That’s right, kids. They’re still plenty sprawling, but these are the most refined songs Temple Fang have wrought to-date from their particular corner of the cosmos (somewhere in Amsterdam), digging into repetition for hypnosis and emphasis alike, and remaking various notions of heavy in their image.
‘Lifted From the Wind’ helps give shape to the trajectory Temple Fang have been on from their outset, and feels like a moment of arrival in terms of manifesting a vision of who they want to be. It’s a special, deeply honest record, and whatever Temple Fang do from here on out, a Landmark in the life of this band. You’d be lucky to see others working under its influence. – JJ Koczan, Feb. 2025.
Tracklisting: 1. The River (18:24) 2. Once (21:11) 3. Harvest Angel (12:34) 4. The Radiant (7:26) 5. Josephine (15:00)
Temple Fang are: Dennis Duijnhouwer: Vox, Bass, Synth Jevin de Groot: Vox, Guitar, Percussion Ivy van der Veer: Guitar, Vox Daan Wopereis: Drums, Vox
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 28th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Heads up on one of the best records you’ll hear this year. At least one of the best records I’ll hear. A Spring release suits Lifted From the Wind, which breathes new life into Temple Fang‘s sound and heavy progressive rock more broadly, the Amsterdam-native four-piece developing their craft a new degree of refinement without giving up the expansive feel of their work to-date — that sense of having gone far out one time a long while ago and stayed there to beam back soulful and immersive psych jams.
I was asked to do a bio for the record, and I did ultimately donate a few thoughts to the cause — the band sent me a file with a bunch of my quotes about them; turns out I’ve said some very nice things about Temple Fang since their inception; I stand by all of it — to go along with a piece they wrote in their own words. The bottom line narrative of the album though is that they’ve moved deeper into traditional songwriting without necessarily giving up the longform methodology of their work to this point, and oof, does it ever work.
If I’m lucky, I’ll get to do a premiere or something from Lifted From the Wind before it’s out April 25, but either way keep an eye for a review. This is a band actively pushing themselves to the next level creatively, and it’s not a thing to be missed. Once you hear “Once.”
The following came down the PR wire and includes dates for the band’s Spring tour:
We are proud to announce the release of our new album ‘Lifted from the Wind’ on Stickman Records on April 25th.
Our most ambitious and realized work yet, we can’t wait for y’all to hear it.
Pre-order starts on March 13th. XO TF
With ‘Lifted From the Wind’, Temple Fang posit their creativity not only as a communion with each other — a conversation of instruments — but with something more ethereal. Their psychedelia is one of soul as much as sound, and where plenty of bands out there cast their songs as rituals, Temple Fang convey the joy of true reverence in the name of sonic exploration and, now more than ever, craft.
That’s right, kids. They’re still plenty sprawling, but these are the most refined songs Temple Fang have wrought to-date from their particular corner of the cosmos (somewhere in Amsterdam), digging into repetition for hypnosis and emphasis alike, and remaking various notions of heavy in their image. ‘Lifted From the Wind’ helps give shape to the trajectory Temple Fang have been on from their outset, and feels like a moment of arrival in terms of manifesting a vision of who they want to be. It’s a special, deeply honest record, and whatever Temple Fang do from here on out, a landmark in the life of this band. You’d be lucky to see others working under its influence. — JJ Koczan, Feb. 2025
‘Lifted From the Wind’ 01. The River 02. Once 03. Harvest Angel 04. The Radiant 05. Josephine
Produced by Sebastiaan van Bijlevelt
29/03 Terneuzen, NL Terneuzen on Fire 23/04 Køln, DE Sonic Ballroom 24/04 Duisburg, DE Bora 25/05 Münster, DE Rare Guitar 26/04 Jena, DE Kuba 27/04 Dresden, DE Chemiefabrik 28/04 Hamburg, DE Markthalle 30/04 Amsterdam, NL Secret Show w/ Heath 02/05 Eindhoven, NL Effenaar w/ Mojo & the Kitchen Brothers 03/05 Haarlem, NL Slachthuis w/ Heath 05/05 Augsburg, DE Soho Stage 06/05 Salzburg, AT Rockhouse Bar 07/05 Stuttgart, DE Goldmarks 08/05 Winterthur, CH Gaswerk 09/05 Seewen, CH Gaswerk 10/05 Delémont, CH SAS 11/05 Barberaz, FR Brin de Zinc 13/05 Esch-Alzette, LUX Kulturfabrik w/ Elder 14/05 Tourcoing, FR Le Grand Mix w/ Elder 15/05 Rotterdam, NL Baroeg @ Rotown 16/05 Groningen, NL Vera w/Heath 17/05 Nijmegen, NL Sonic Whip 19/05 Frankfurt, DE Das Bett w/ The Devil and The Almighty Blues 20/05 Karlsruhe, DE P8 w/ The Devil and The Almighty Blues 21/05 Bielefeld, DE Forum w/ The Devil and The Almighty Blues 22/05 Leipzig, DE Werk 2 w/ The Devil and The Almighty Blues 23/05 Oldenburg, DE Cadillac Club
Temple Fang: Dennis Duijnhouwer – Bass, Vox Jevin de Groot – Guitar, Vox Ivy van der Veer – Guitar Daan Wopereis – Drums
