Posted in Questionnaire on October 20th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Ryan Evans of Cruthu
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
We define Cruthu as Occult/Traditional Doom. I met the guys in Cruthu when my Garage Doom band, Seritas, and when they needed a singer I fit right in with style and approach they are going for. Really though since Black Sabbath is my favorite band, every band I’ve recorded with has stemmed from that influence in some way.
Describe your first musical memory.
Hard to say, because there was always music in on my household. My mom loved &B, Poo of the day, and Soul but my dad loved old school Country and Delta Blues. There was always music on, and my parents encouraged my interest in music.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
There are so many, from my first gig at 14 playing in front of the school and getting a great response, to my first serious band, Blind Addiction playing on the main stage at The Capitol Theater opening for national acts, or that same band opening for Dio later, or that feeling when you hold your own record in your hand… The are two many things to pick just one.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
When I learned pineapple was a controversial pizza topping.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
Optimally to new ideas and opportunities.
How do you define success?
People I respect honestly liking what I do, and having people tell me my music has helped them or touched then in some way.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
The exhibition on America at the moment.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I’m currently undertaking that actually. I’ve been creating instrumental experimental/ambient/psychedelic music with my solo project Ubuntu. It’s like nothing I’ve ever done before, and I love the challenge and doing something completely different than anything I’ve done before.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Joy and catharsis.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Everything I’m looking forward to is musical! I’m working with a Traditional Metal band called Mortis Examine doing vocals, and playing guitar in a Dark Psychedelic band called The MK Ultras. I’m looking forward to releasing music with those projects.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on February 25th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
I wasn’t at this show, but I was reading guitarist/vocalist Karl Simon‘s Bandcamp info about The Gates of Slumber‘s Live in Tempe, Arizona, and it occurred to me I did see them on this tour. The Indianapolis trio, then Simon, bassist Jason McCash and drummer J. Clyde Paradis, were on the road in Spring 2011 supporting their new-at-the-time album The Wretch (review here), which would turn out to be their final record with just the Scion A/V-sponsored Stormcrow EP (review here) following in 2013 until this Live in Tempe, Arizona, came along in 2020. They’d been to Europe and were back in the States touring with Orange Goblin for the UK outfit’s 15th anniversary. Here’s what Simon remembers about it:
2011 was a very good year for The Gates of Slumber, we had come off a run of great shows with Cathedral and the amazing experience of recording The Wretch in London with Jaime Gomez in December of 2010, and we were fresh off touring with Place of Skulls and our headliner set at Roadburn when we got the call that Orange Goblin was wanting us to support them as they tried to get a full US tour in 13 days… 13 grizzly days where we had no air conditioning in the van as we trekked across the deep south… the realities of touring in the US vs Europe were laid bare on this one, there was the infamous decided lack of everything that we were dealing with as we confronted blown out tires, a lack of sleep, a lack of food and mostly a lack of time.
Make no mistake, I have a few good memories (and a few hazy ones; it was a different, much drunker time) of seeing The Gates of Slumber live, but hot damn, I loved The Wretch. Produced by Jaime Gomez Arellano as noted above, the record used negative space — empty space in the mix — to create a downtrodden, lonely, depressive feel that was as pure and classic American doom as Saint Vitus‘ best work. It was clear in its message and perspective, its songs were intentionally grueling, and in departing from the more epic-minded fare of LP’s like 2008’s Conqueror and 2009’s Hymns of Blood and Thunder (review here), the band took up the mantle of forerunners of a kind of doom that very, very few acts have been able to capture in the decade-plus since. No one I’ve heard has been able to do this thing, this way, so well.
The New York show was Orange Goblin, The Gates of Slumber, Naam and Kings Destroy (review here), on May 27, 2011, which according to the original list of dates puts it 10 days before they hit Tempe — after Albuquerque, New Mexico, it should be noted given the album cover for the live record (click the image above to enlarge) — and what a night. Even first night of the tour, they delivered, and listening back to Live in Tempe, Arizona, it brings to mind just how on-fire they were at this point. If you’re wondering just what the hell I’m talking about with “negative space” above, take a listen to “Coven of Cain” on the live record. That (not really) empty pause as Simon drudges through the early verses, the slow march so pointedly undramatic in its execution. The song itself doesn’t need to be massive because the impact comes from the atmosphere and the emotion behind it.
It’s raw in a way that distortion-obsessed riff-doom — and hey, I like plenty of that too — can’t possibly be, and feels braver for that, for being more up front. The Gates of Slumber in this era had plenty of forward push, as “Day of Farewell” here demonstrates, and the dynamic was fluid, which is to say that they were able to shift between the quieter and louder, more weighted stretches with apparent ease owing to the strength of the songwriting and the performances, not just of Simon in fronting the band and embodying the miseries the songs were about, but McCash and Paradis bringing density and a just-about-to-fall-off-the-track rolling nod to the material. Even as they chug through “Ice Worm” from Conqueror here and finish out with “The Jury” from their 2004 debut, …The Awakening (discussed here), the quiet intensity keeps up with the surge of volume. And I know the early days of the band have engendered a loyalism among the band’s fans, but for my money, this was as doomed as The Gates of Slumber got.
Listening to it, there’s no question as to why The Gates of Slumber would want to eventually release Live in Tempe, Arizona. Even 11 years after the fact, the downer aspects of these six songs — the set opener “The Scovrge ov Drvnkeness” wasn’t recorded according to Simon — comes through with marked resonance, and the barebones-but-clean sound with which the songs are captured ties everything together with remarkable effectiveness. That is to say, it’s doom as fuck. The tragedy of McCash‘s death in 2014 ensured that The Wretch — or Stormcrow, for that matter — never got a proper follow-up from The Gates of Slumber, but Simon continued forward in the band Wretch, whose 2016 self-titled debut (review here) answered the call that the album after which they were named seemed to put forth. It wasn’t the same — nothing is — but it was a worthy continuation of Simon‘s former outfit and a beginning of something new.
In 2019, The Gates of Slumber announced a reunion of sorts. With the occasion of the 2020 Hell Over Hammaburg Festival — which actually happened! — as the driving factor, Simon brought on Chuck Brown on drums and Steve Janiak on bass (both also guitarist/vocalists in Apostle of Solitude), the band went to Europe for a few shows and captured some prime live and rehearsal footage in the process. The new incarnation of the band has released some of that stuff through their Patreon, as well as some footage of the group’s first run, studio behind-the-scenes stuff, and so on, but I don’t know if they’re writing or working toward a new The Gates of Slumber album or not. I wouldn’t mind being surprised by one one of these days, in the way of sudden Bandcamp drops, but in the meantime, revisiting what was so clearly a special time for them makes me wonder all the more what the Simon, Janiak and Brown lineup might have to offer.
As always, I hope you enjoy.
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So, I guess war, huh? The tribes of Europe, who’ve been fighting and redrawing maps for over a thousand years, are at it again. And young and old, military and civilian, men, women and children will die, land will be scorched. Everybody’s got their WWIII boner up. I’m not trying to be glib about it — it’s a genuine tragedy, most of all for the people of Ukraine, including friends of mine — but if humanity was ever going to learn not to wage war against itself, I think it probably would have by now, and failing that, what’s really left to say about us as a species? We’re awful and someday there won’t be any of us left. Maybe who/whatever comes along next and claims earth as its dominion (which, come to think of it, is part of the problem in the first place, so hopefully who/whatever’s next doesn’t make that claim to start with) will do better.
On more domestic questions of diplomacy and battle, The Pecan — aged four and four months as of today — and The Patient Mrs. worked out some weeks ago that today, Feb. 25, would be the day he peed on the potty. He’s done it once before, after sitting on the toilet for a literal eight hours, and I kind of think that might be where today is headed as well. School was canceled owing to freezing rain and other wintry whathaveyou, and when I woke up, it was his yelling and crying about being on the toilet that did it.
I’m in the bathroom now, having spelled The Patient Mrs. so she can go upstairs and get work done, and I’ve hidden the diapers so he can’t go find one and put it on (I told him diapers would come back after he peed on the potty, so he’s not freaking out that they’re gone forever), and after trying every bribe in the known universe and giving him buy-in by picking the day, I guess it’s just a matter of making it happen. He’s physically uncomfortable from having to pee so badly. He holds in his poop for days on end. This is something that needs to happen. He knows when he has to go. They’ve tried at school and he just refuses all bribes and continues to hold it in until he gets home. It’s a thing. A whole thing. It’s been a thing for over a year and it’s only gotten worse. Do I think there’s a freezing rain’s chance in hell that the issue will be solved today? No, I do not. It’ll happen when it happens. But if we come out of the day celebrating even a drop or a trickle going in the toilet, that will ultimately give us a win from which to move forward. That win will have been worked for.
He’s currently watching Doc McStuffins on my phone. We did Bluey for a bit too and we may or may not get to Muppets as the day plays out. He’ll be hungry in a bit, so I anticipate a lunch break and then, yeah, probably back for more of this. That’s real life. Happening right now.
Thanks if you checked out the YOB review yesterday. That show was incredible.
No Gimme show this week, but next week it’ll happen if you’re looking for it, which I doubt you are. I’m slowly making my way toward 100 episodes of that, which I’ll hit later this year provided they don’t cancel it in the meantime. Fingers crossed. I enjoy that.
Fuck. All Them Witches just posted a new song. Why does this crap have to happen on Fridays?
Alright, gonna go post that, then do lunch for the kid. Have a great and safe weekend. Watch your head, hydrate, don’t forget to use the potty before you leave the house. All that stuff.
The self-titled debut album from Chesapeake Watershed progressive doomers Beelzefuzz (review here) was issued in 2013 through The Church Within Records. I remember it feeling like it was an excruciatingly long wait for the album to show up, both from their earlier demos and also just the record itself. The first time I’d seen them was Days of the Doomed II (review here) for a short set in June 2012, then again at Stoner Hands of Doom XII (review here) about two and a half months later. Comprised of guitarist/vocalist Dana Ortt, bassist Pug Kirby and drummer Darin McCloskey (also of Pale Divine), they made a formidably individualized impression on stage and on the demos they were giving away after that sampler set in Wisconsin (discussed here), Ortt‘s wide-eyed and effects-harmonized vocal conjurations, quirky style of riffing, and the guitar-as-organ sound that would become a Beelzefuzz trademark but never fully understood when it came to the eventual two albums they would release. If everyone could’ve seen them on stage, it all would have made a lot more sense.
I went back and looked over my review from when the eight-song/36-minute LP came out, and first of all, it was l-o-n-g. You think it takes me a long time to say what I’m trying to say now? Shit, right around 2012/2013, I apparently decided to take myself super-seriously and yeah. Wow. Anyway, digging through the verbiage, I at least acknowledged at the time that the album format inherently couldn’t capture the full impact of the band, since so much of the appeal was in watching Ortt‘s wizardry, backed as it was by the reliable and classic styling of McCloskey on drums, emphasizing the ’70s rock and prog elements of their doom. In 2013, I noted the album was full of promise, and I remember being particularly struck by how much heavier the guitar sounded than on the demos or live, that the chug in the final version of “All the Feeling Returns” carried more weight than it had initially, but fair enough. The album was full of promise. Listening to it now, I’m still a fan. I have a couple t-shirts somewhere.
It’s a shame on multiple levels that the band didn’t last, but among them is the fact that in this age of livestreaming and ready-made video-ness, they’d probably do pretty well playing “Reborn” or “Lotus Jam” or the seven-minute “Hypnotize” on whatever form of social media as a way to engage their fans. Ortt posts a solo track every now and again to Instagram and that’s cool, so maybe the band would’ve found a broader audience that way, but they also never really toured and didn’t seem inclined to do so, which is also fair. You’d probably have a hard time making a career out of Beelzefuzz. Silly name. Weird sound. Unless you’re ready to move to London, it’d be rough to make a go of it, and Beelzefuzz was well entrenched in Maryland doom. The fact that they stood out from so much of it was part of what made their debut so exciting. In a scene that prided itself on traditionalism and following in the riffy footsteps of Wino, Al Morris III and others, Beelzefuzz represented a step aside from that in favor of something willfully fresh, still doom in its atmosphere and still plenty heavy — again, surprisingly so on this album — but ahead of its time in its proggier bent and standout songwriting.
A complicated series of events would eventually consume the band. You know all those killer ’70s heavy rock records that you listen to and think, “How was this band not huge?” Kind of the same thing here. Beelzefuzz fell first to a discord between Kirby and the other two players. I’ll spare you the links to all of this, but you should know they’re there. That split led to legal proceedings involving use of the name — imagine that for a second — and for a hot minute, that seemed like it was going to be the end of the band. Ortt and McCloskey regrouped as Righteous Bloom about a week later, and brought in Revelation/Against Nature bassist Bert Hall, Jr., and hell, that was exciting too. Hall is a low-end master and a rhythm section of him and McCloskey together was only going to result in warm, rolling groove excellently suited to Ortt‘s riffs. And it did.
Righteous Bloom began releasing tracks one at a time and eventually became Beelzefuzz again late in 2015. They brought in Greg Diener — McCloskey‘s bandmate in Pale Divine — and in 2016, released Beelzefuzz II: The Righteous Bloom (review here) through Candlelight imprint Restricted Release. Guess what? It was cool and didn’t get the attention it deserved. Maybe that fraught two years showed up a bit in their sound, the struggle and stress surrounding the band came through a bit in the songs, but not really. They showed a more progressive side of their songwriting and of course, solos from Diener were never going to hurt. Beelzefuzz simply rolled on.
They played here and there to support the album locally, in Maryland, Delaware, etc., and that was where their reputation was always based. I was fortunate enough to see their last show at Maryland Doom Fest 2019 (review here) and the love for them was palpable in that room in Cafe 611, Frederick, MD. A fitting sendoff if there had to be one.
The happy post-script to the 10-year run of Beelzefuzz is that Ortt wound up joining Diener and McCloskey in Pale Divine in time to contribute to last year’s Consequence of Time (review here), which was a doomly joy to behold, mixing the band’s longstanding traditionalist aspects with Ortt‘s quirk. That left Hall as the odd man out — Pale Divine already had an ace bassist/sometimes vocalist in Ron “Fezzy” McGinnis, late of Admiral Browning — but he’s apparently been working on solo material, as he’ll play April 10 at Cafe 611 with a bunch of others in a kind of early welcome-back-to-shows show. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about going.
Everyone’s alive, so there’s always a chance Beelzefuzz might decide to pick it back up and start anew, but even if that doesn’t happen, this record holds up easily to the eight years since it came out, and there’s nothing to make me think it won’t continue to do so as more time goes on.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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This week was a blur of email anxiety. I had notes to send to the Weirdo Canyon Dispatchstaff for the Roadburn Redux thing — you’d be AMAZED at the people who flaked — and requests for interviews for that, and PostWax liner notes emails and then a couple people want to interview me as if I have anything interesting to say other than to complain, plus I wasn’t sleeping and everything had that the-universe-is-awful sheen from my glazed eyes. I managed to do two decent interviews though; the one that went up with Oryx yesterday and one yesterday morning I did with Domkraft that I’m going to try to get up next week.
Next week, also, is the Quarterly Review. I know. I’m stupid. But the week works and I’ll get through it. Honestly, with the big release day that today is — Greenleaf, Genghis Tron, Yawning Sons, Shiva the Destructor, Wheel, 1782, The Quill, and others if that’s not enough; was enough for me to just put those first two in my Amazon cart — it’s I’m hoping news chills out a bit next week and I can focus on the 10-albums-per-day thing. With my luck, festivals will probably come back.
Does it matter? Nah. I’m small potatoes. Low stakes to everyone except me if I don’t post whatever that thing is until tomorrow.
I need to remind myself of that.
Took a break just now to rearrange some furniture with The Patient Mrs. in our living. An old hangover lamp down to the basement, move the new rug, new shelves for The Pecan’s toys in, and so on. We’re having company for dinner — Slevin, in fact, who you’ll remember is the lovely chap who helped make this site go live in the first place some 12-plus years ago — and his Special Lady. It’ll be nice. We’re supposed to grill and slated to have high winds this afternoon. If that means I smell like meat for the rest of the evening, I’ll take the hit. Maybe change my shirt before bed. Maybe.
My family will return next week here. The room I’m in now — we’ve called it ‘the big room’ for at least as long as I’ve been alive; recall this house belonged to my grandmother/grandfather — is our dining room, a door out from the kitchen added on to the original house during a period of what I’ll assume was prosperity for my grandparents. Its wood paneling, circular red fireplace, vinyl floor and back bar are very much in line with my own aesthetic. We spend a lot of time out here. We lit fires all winter. Somehow that feels important to me, though I know all nostalgia and sense of ‘connection’ to a thing is pretend at best and damaging at worst. The more you cling to, the more you lose, and so on.
Oh, I also got pitched on a book project compiling I guess some of the best stuff from around here the last 12 years? Kind of a bizarre idea, but it might actually happen given who’s behind it. If you have any thoughts on what should be included, I’m happy to take requests. I have no clue where to start or end.
No Gimme show this week. Next week. So it’s that, QR, maybe Domkraft interview video and an announcement Monday that I need to confirm. Plus I’m recording interviews where I’m being interviewed I think on Sunday and Thursday, and I’m interviewing Steve Von Till of Neurosis tomorrow for a thing, and I need to set up a line with Tau from Tau and the Drones of Praise for another thing, plus find a time to talk with Mat Bethancourt about Josiah coming back asap and then I expect by the time I get through all that and 10 reviews a day by the end of next Friday, plus The Pecan — whose fractured skull is fine, by the way, genuine thanks to everyone who expressed concern — I will have burst an embolism in my own brain and I’ll just be dead. Fine. It’s how I always wanted to go: overwhelmed.
Great and safe weekend. If it’s Spring where you are, enjoy Spring. Don’t forget to hydrate and watch your head.
Posted in Questionnaire on March 12th, 2021 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Matt Fry of Cruthu
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
In this context, I am a musician. I play the drums for Cruthu. I’ve been a semi-professional musician for over 30 years. Eight years of piano lessons as a kid, and then school band instilled my love and appreciation for all genres of music, but my journey really started in 1984 when I heard KISS’ Creatures of the Night album. More specifically, it was the intro to “I Love it Loud” that made me say “I want to make THAT sound!” My parents loaned me the money for my first kit (I think I still owe them for it lol), and I was off to the races. KISS, AC/DC, Ted Nugent, all the usual suspects were my initial inspiration until I bought a little album called Reign in Blood. It changed my musical direction and put me on the metal road.
Describe your first musical memory.
I don’t remember a time when music wasn’t a part of my life. Growing up, there was always music playing in our house. As such, it’s hard to narrow down a first memory. The first time I remember being completely awestruck by something I heard was when I found my mom’s copy of Meet the Beatles. It was like nothing I’d ever heard up to that point, and I listened to it constantly.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
That’s a tough one because they’re all important. Maybe the most memorable time was when I got to play at Castle Farms in Charlevoix, MI. It was for some sort of benefit, it’s been years and I really don’t remember the details, but I remember being on that stage and feeling a little like a rock star lol. I was playing on the same stage that Ozzy had played on! I’m standing on the same stage that Metallica had played! It was humbling, and it’s a memory I’ll always hold close.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
That’s another tough question. Maybe it’s when I was going through my divorce. My parents have been happily married for 55 years. With that as my template, it was difficult and somewhat shocking to have to admit that my marriage wasn’t going to last forever.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I think that depends entirely on the artist. It leads where you want it to lead. As far as Cruthu goes, I believe our progression has led us to make a much more cohesive album this time around. At this point in our careers I don’t think we’re progressing much personally on our respective instruments, but as a band I think we’ve grown considerably since we started.
How do you define success?
The idea of success is different for everyone. My definition of success has changed over the years. When I was 15 success meant being a rock star. Money, fame, all that. As I’ve gotten older, the definition has obviously changed. Success to me now means being able to create something that connects with other people in some meaningful way. When I hear from someone that something I helped create has impacted their life in a positive way, that feels like success.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
That’s another tough one. I watch and read a lot of crime and horror, and I have a firm grip on the difference between reality and fantasy. Without getting too specific, I have no interest in seeing real violence on any level.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
My musical interests are so varied, some would say schizophrenic, that I find it hard sometimes to be content playing one style of music. I want to make an outlaw country album, and a synthwave album. And who knows, maybe I’ll explore other genres as well.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Art is subjective, at least it should be. Different people will have different reactions to the same piece of art. I think the essential function is to elicit a response, whether the patron is entertained, or shocked, or offended, as long as there is a reaction, I think the artist has succeeded.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
When I’m not playing music or working my dayjob, I’m writing. It started out as a journal and became something else. Whether it’s a series of short stories or a novel, I’m not sure yet. But I’m taking that scary first step and attempting to get published.
Posted in Features on April 17th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
The statistics of COVID-19 change with every news cycle, and with growing numbers, stay-at-home isolation and a near-universal disruption to society on a global scale, it is ever more important to consider the human aspect of this coronavirus. Amid the sad surrealism of living through social distancing, quarantines and bans on gatherings of groups of any size, creative professionals — artists, musicians, promoters, club owners, techs, producers, and more — are seeing an effect like nothing witnessed in the last century, and as humanity as a whole deals with this calamity, some perspective on who, what, where, when and how we’re all getting through is a needed reminder of why we’re doing so in the first place.
Thus, Days of Rona, in some attempt to help document the state of things as they are now, both so help can be asked for and given where needed, and so that when this is over it can be remembered.
Thanks to all who participate. To read all the Days of Rona coverage, click here. — JJ Koczan
Days of Rona: “Postman Dan” McCormick of Cruthu (Lansing, Michigan)
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How are you dealing with this crisis as a band? Have you had to rework plans at all? How is everyone’s health so far?
First and foremost everyone is in good health thankfully. We sincerely hope the same for you and anyone that may be reading this. As far as it affecting the band there’s been a few minor adjustments to reschedule shows and studio sessions. We’ve had two shows in April postponed and it’s made booking additional shows difficult. Clubs and bars are closed per executive order in Michigan. Fortunately our focus this past winter has been finishing a new record which is in the final stages of mixing. I’ve had to schedule one session remotely over the phone due to quarantine measures from the state.
What are the quarantine/isolation rules where you are?
Michigan is currently one of the states on lockdown. Travel has been restricted to only essential services and the state has instructed nonessential businesses to close. People for the most part are staying home and only leaving for things like groceries (both alcohol and medical marijuana were deemed essential, in case you’re wondering). Gatherings went quickly from 250 people down to 10 and then to basically staying home.
How have you seen the virus affecting the community around you and in music?
There’s definitely some panic and fear in public but not overwhelming. I’ve been deemed essential in my line of work which requires me to travel about 80 miles a day throughout some of the busiest parts in our capitol city of Lansing. The downtown district is like a ghost town while people are flooding grocery stores on the west end for supplies. Meanwhile the eastside houses most of the music venues which have all been closed. I’ve noticed venues across the state cancelling or postponing shows for both local and touring acts.
What is the one thing you want people to know about your situation, either as a band, or personally, or anything?
If anything, I’d like to thank all the musicians, labels, music journalists, promoters, etc., for your efforts. Life would be much different without your contributions. Please continue to support them in these trying times.
Posted in Whathaveyou on January 23rd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Ever since The Gates of Slumber first announced their reunion last April, the questions over whether they’d tour and, if so, just how much, have loomed. When I asked founding guitarist/vocalist about it a few days later in our interview, his response was a succinct, “if there is a demand we’ll play.”
Perhaps unsurprisingly, there’s a demand, and accordingly, the reinvigorated three-piece of Simon, bassist Steve Janiak and drummer Chuck Brown (both of whom double as guitarist/vocalists in Apostle of Solitude, while the former now handles triple-duty fronting Devil to Pay) will do a round of EU shows around the slot at Hell Over Hammaburg that was the impetus behind the reunion in the first place. They’ll be in Belgium, Germany, Denmark, Sweden, Norway and Finland. And that’s news in itself, and awesome, but look at the god damn bands they’re playing with.
There are plenty of killer nights here, with Altar of Oblivion, Hazemaze, and other familiar names — let alone the fest itself in Hamburg — but look at that Berlin show. You mean I could see The Gates of Slumber playing a set of early material on a bill with Cardinals Folly, Leaden Fumes and friggin’ Lord Vicar? Someone needs to fly my ass to Berlin. Come on. That’s too good. We should all go.
I’m gonna splash cold water on my broke-ass face. You check out the dates:
The Gates of Slumber 2020 European Dates
Recently-reunited Indianapolis doom metal trio The Gates of Slumber have announced additional tour dates around their upcoming appearance at Hell over Hammaburg 8. Guitarist / vocalist Karl Simon (also of Wretch) is joined by early-era TGOS drummer Chuck Brown (Apostle of Solitude) and Steve Janiak (Apostle of Solitude, Devil to Pay) on bass.
The band’s set will focus on material from the debut album “The Awakening” (2004) and subsequent EP, “Like a Plague Upon the Land” (2005) both of which featured Chuck Brown on drums. The album and EP are also slated to be reissued via Church Within Records in 2020.
The Gates of Slumber will share the stage with Lord Vicar, Altar of Oblivion, Haunt, Bellrope, Visigoth and more.
THE GATES OF SLUMBER “The Re-Awakening” 2020 Presented by Vibra Agency & The Church Within Records 04.03.2020 BEL – Brussels, Magasin 4, w Nornes, Loose License 05.03.2020 GER – Dortmund, Junkyard, w Hexer 06.03.2020 GER – Berlin, Zukunft, Lord Vicar, Cardinals Folly 07.03.2020 GER – Hamburg, Markthalle, Hell Over Hamburg 2020 w Haunt, Bellrope, Visigoth & more 08.03.2020 DNK – Copenhagen, Stengade, w Altar of Oblivion 09.03.2020 SWE – Gothenburg, Musikens Hus 10.03.2020 NOR – Oslo, Roverstaden, w Tempelheks III 11.03.2020 SWE – Stockholm Hus 7 w Black Soil, Hazemaze 13.03.2020 FIN – Helsinki, Rocks
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 6th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
It has only ever been appropriate that the cover art of Lord Vicar albums should be classical-style paintings. Their work on the whole is very much about being in conversation with masters even as they’ve emerged as masters themselves, and it adds to the poise within their traditionalist doom, while placing in context the sense of reverence for form with which their material is executed. Their second album, Signs of Osiris, was released in 2011 through The Church Within Records as the follow-up to 2008’s debut, Fear No Pain, as well as roughly concurrent splits with Griftegård and Funeral Circle (review here), on Ván Records and Eyes Like Snow, respectively. It was a busy time for the four-piece of vocalist Christian “Lord Chritus” Linderson, guitarist/Mellotronist Kimi “Peter Vicar” Kärki, bassist Jussi “Iron Hammer” Myllykoski and drummer Gareth Millsted, but the clarity of their purpose continues to resound through the timeless/anachronistic doom they crafted. Kärki‘s songwriting is at the root of much of Signs of Osiris but with early contributions from Myllykoski on “The Answer” and Millsted on the multi-movement “Child Witness (Including ‘The Father’ and ‘The Pain of a Maiden’ and ‘Release’),” a sense of variety emerges throughout the 58-minute seven-tracker even beyond that which the flourish of acoustic guitar in opener “Signs of Osiris Slain” that later manifests in the acoustic-led penultimate cut “Endless November” already brings. Whether it’s longer-form pieces like the 15-minute finale “Signs of Osiris Risen (Including ‘Isis and the Needle’ and ‘The Ritual’ and ‘For the Love of War’),” or “Child Witness” and the subsequent “Between the Blue Temple and the North Tower” — both of which hover around nine and a half minutes — or the more active and rolling tempos of “Signs of Osiris Slain” and the later “Sinking City,” Lord Vicar manifest doom not as an elitist standard or fodder for a backpatch or a slogan in some meme, but as an emotive and existential mode of being. It’s doom as a way of life, turned into songs.
Unavoidably, the focus on Lord Vicar will forever be Linderson and Kärki. There’s just no getting away from it, and frankly I’m not sure there should be. One’s Lord, and one’s Vicar, and the band is called Lord Vicar. More than a decade after their founding, it still doesn’t seem like an accident, and when one considers their pedigree, with Chritus having served the crusade in Count Raven, Saint Vitus, Terra Firma and more recently on the first two Goatess LPs, and Kärki‘s multi-faceted creative force manifest in E-Musikgruppe Lux Ohr, Orne, Reverend Bizarre, and so on, top billing is well earned. That said, right up there with the doomly tradition of follow-the-riff is secret-weapon-rhythm-section, and Lord Vicar live up to that on Signs of Osiris as well. Myllykoski would be out of the band by the time their third record showed up, but he and Millsted are locked in here, driving home the turns in “Sinking City” reminiscent of The Obsessed or carrying the midsection part-shifts of “Child Witness” as if to remind any and all listening that Black Sabbath at their heart were a blues band — in itself a perfect backing for Linderson, who is a better Ozzy than Ozzy has been since 1975 — while staying coherent, clear, and improbably straightforward. Even just the crashes behind the mellotron in “Between the Blue Temple and the North Tower” add to the grandiosity and the drama in that song’s first half, and when Millsted‘s bass takes the forward position to set up the riff that unfolds thereafter for a short time, it is the stuff of doomed glory. It’s easy to put the focus on Linderson and Kärki, and again, I’m not sure it’s inappropriate to do so either, but Signs of Osiris demonstrates plainly from Osiris’ slaying to Osiris’ rising that Lord Vicar have always been a full band in terms of impact. Even the cymbal washes later in “Endless November” add to that track’s acoustic melody and the classical-styled folkish guitar work that Kärki would later manifest through his solo work.
That song is a highlight of the album, and not just for its departure from the tonal heft that surrounds or the manner in which it builds at its conclusion to transition into “Sign of Osiris Risen,” but the hook of “Child Witness” — strong enough to pull the band back to it even after their running through the subsections in one-after-the-next-fashion — also serves as a standout, and the rocking “The Answer” does likewise, again bringing to light what the rhythm section adds to the core of guitar and vocals. Of course, that’s not to take away from Kärki‘s craftsmanship on the opener and its companion closer, “Between the Blue Temple and the North Tower,” “Sinking City” or “Endless November,” which is no less effectively consuming in its doom than one could ask it to be, or from the performance of Linderson, which is stellar in such a way as to highlight how generally undervalued he is as a frontman in the genre. After a split with Revelation in 2012 that was Myllykoski‘s final release with the band, it would be four years before they resurfaced with 2016’s Gates of Flesh (review here), bringing in bassist Rich Jones, who like Millsted, is based in the UK as opposed to Finland or Sweden. This incarnation of the band would prove no less potent than the preceding, and even as Linderson split time with Goatess and Kärki explored solo work, Lord Vicar remained active in writing and performing. Gates of Flesh received a follow-up earlier this year with The Black Powder (review here), which will shortly feature again around here on the list of 2019’s best releases, as it was certainly among the most gloriously doomed offerings of the last 12 months, continuing to show the inescapable power of what Lord Vicar do to move, affect, and sway the listener to its own spiritual alignment, as did Signs of Osiris, and as might a classical painting.
They recently played Hammer of Doom in Germany and have done other appearances to support the release, and if you’re ever in a position to see them play, I can only recommend doing so.
In the meantime, and as always, I hope you enjoy.
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Guess the week’s over, since I’m writing a Friday Full-Length post. That’s cool. I’m sure the weekend will be super-restful.
Ha.
This week it was Wednesday. Wednesday was the hard day. Wednesday was the day I was looking at the clock unable to believe it wasn’t even 10AM yet. The Pecan and I didn’t leave the house because it was cold and looked shitty out and I couldn’t even bring myself to go outside and warm up the car, and I had nowhere to go that didn’t cost money and The Patient Mrs. and I have been living beyond our means since, well, pretty much forever. Some days that shit catches up with you, I guess. That was Wednesday.
So the kid was a nightmare pretty much the whole day. Full-on fuck-you-wreck-shit-scream-hit-kick-bite-two-year-old madness. By the early afternoon, when I put him upstairs for a nap and he didn’t even go to sleep, I was ready to collapse on an existential level. Like, “How is this my life?’ It was bad. Even relative to the bad days, it was bad.
Yesterday, by contrast, Thursday, was easier. We went out in the morning to the grocery store, and my mother came and sat with him for an hour and there was other stuff going on during the day. He napped — hour-twenty; not terrible, not great — and afterward we ran a few errands then came back to the house and he ate dinner. The Patient Mrs. had left in the morning to drive up to Massachusetts for a funeral, so for a day that was 100 percent him and me, it actually wasn’t, and it was much easier for that. Kid’s better for everyone else. My mother’ll tell you he’s a gem.
Monday’s a blur, both this past Monday and this one coming. I’m going to go see Kings Destroy play an early show at Vitus Bar in Brooklyn tomorrow night with Borracho and a couple other bands, and that’ll be good. They’re doing a live record and I expect I’ll know a good number of people in the room. Om and Kadavar are also playing New York next week, but as of now I’m not planning to get to either show. That’s probably a mistake on my part. It’s been a really long time since I’ve seen either of them. I don’t know. I don’t get to spend much time with The Patient Mrs. these days, and our evenings together, even if we’re just sitting on ass watching Star Trek — actually, especially if that’s what we’re doing — have become pretty precious to me. I’ll do some math and see where I land.
So next week, that KD live review — “duh, they’re good” — plus a Church of the Cosmic Skull album review and a Doomraiser video premiere and Domo album stream later in the week. Only day I don’t yet have anything planned for is Wednesday. I’m sure something will come along, and if not, I’ve got a goddamn backlog of stuff on my desktop waiting for writeups. So yeah, it’ll be fine.
Don’t forget, The Obelisk Show on Gimme Radio is on at 1PM Eastern: http://gimmeradio.com
Posted in Bootleg Theater on November 8th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
First off, I like bootlegs. The act of putting yourself in the raw moment of seeing a band play via a sometimes rough recording from a microphone somewhere in the audience. You can hear people talking between the songs, and you can hear the band as they were from the stage — no cleanup, no mixing, nothing. Bootlegs are the truest of “warts and all” presentations for live music. I’ll take a soundboard recording, to be sure, and a good-sounding A+ boot is like a gift from the gods — thinking specifically of Black Sabbath‘s Asbury Park ’75 recording (discussed here), but of course there are many examples among live and studio unofficial releases — but there’s for sure an appeal to a harsher-audio bootleg. It’s a document of a moment that would otherwise be lost to time and memory.
They’re not for everyone, and that’s cool. If they’re not for you, you might want to move on, skip to the bottom part where I bitch about life or just go about your day or whatever. But if you count yourself among the number who can be entranced by such things, and you’re a fan of the band, then the pure aural force The Obsessed display on Live at the Wax Museum should be considered utterly essential. Recorded on July 3, 1983, it first showed up in 1992 as an unofficial release through Doom Records and it wasn’t until last year that The Church Within (fittingly enough) gave it its first official pressing, with a glow the dark cover and a CD encased in a DVD-style digipak, textured artwork and all. The Obsessed have had a few archival live offerings this decade, including Live at the Melkweg November 28th 1992 and Live Music Hall Köln December 29th 1992 in 2012 when the band first got back together, but Live at the Wax Museum has a different feel, its title giving it a sense of importance as a milestone for the band: that time they were in that place. Also distinguishing Live at the Wax Museum is the fact that it was recorded some nine years before those other shows, with guitarist Scott “Wino” Weinrich, bassist Mark Laue and drummer Dave Flood — who demolishes a drum solo in “Sister Sin” right around the middle of the set, igniting howls from the crowd — playing as intense as I’ve ever heard any incarnation of the band.
Across songs like “Concrete Cancer,” which is introduced during Wino‘s minimalist stage banter as an “old tune,” and “Touch of Everything” (a “dance tune”) and “Mental Kingdom” (a “brand new song”),
along with 11 others for a total of 14 cuts plus an intro, The Obsessed absolutely tear into this show. There’s a minute-long intro from some preacher talking about how rock music is the devil and blah blah blah and then the three-piece rip into “Burning Gland” and there’s no going back. “Iron & Stone” and set-finale “Sodden Jackal” would show up in ’83 on the band’s first 7″ single following two should-probably-be-reissued demos — their 1984 Concrete Cancer demo was given a limited run by Relapse in 2017, so it’d be as simple as repackaging 1999’s Incarnate, I think — but what’s most striking about Live at the Wax Museum is the sheer intensity of it, and that’s something that comes through despite the rough audio. Because, let’s face it: it’s a bootleg. It ain’t a cleaned-up live record, or something that’s been remastered and remastered, the tape gone over with a fine-toothed comb to remove the static noise. It’s all there. You get to hear someone in the crowd after “Concrete Cancer” shout that “FM radio sucks!” — nothing changes — and someone else later call out for them to play some Sabbath after they nail “Mental Kingdom” — again, nothing changes — and if you’re in the right mindset listening, all of that feeds into the specific atmosphere of the release.
Maybe that’s an added academic or theoretical appeal, but Live at the Wax Museum has no shortage of highlight performance moments to go along with that, from the winding and chugging of “Failsafe” to the utterly indispensable “Neatz Brigade,” which is probably the catchiest hook Wino ever wrote — that’s a pretty vast pantheon of stuff between The Obsessed, Spirit Caravan, The Hidden Hand, Premonition 13, and the sundry other units in which he’s been involved or led — but in terms of the way the verse builds tension for the chorus to open up and release, I can’t come up with a match for it. Especially not listening to it as it appears here. Certainly the catchiest The Obsessed tune, at the very least, and one that, 36 years later, you’re still pretty much guaranteed to see them play at every show. With good reason.
I wasn’t there in 1983 for this show. I was going on two, so let’s assume I wouldn’t have been able to make it even if I’d been aware of it, or, say, anything. But having Live at the Wax Museum as not just proof that it happened but kind of a glimpse at who The Obsessed were at the time and how much their miraculously-not-punk grit and working-class disaffection flew in the face of the burgeoning grandeur of the NWOBHM is not only helpful in explaining who they were at the time and how they earned the reputation they’ve long enjoyed, but also just a badass-sounding recording of a raw three-piece working to shape what we now know as Maryland doom. Hell yes that gets multiple spins from me.
The history of The Obsessed is tumultuous and ongoing, but their long absence ended in 2012 and in 2017, they produced the LP Sacred (review here), their first new album in some 23 years. They’ve been touring steadily for it since. They did Muddy Roots in Tennessee in August, Descendants of Crom III in Pittsburgh in September, last weekend were at Cafe 611 — home of Maryland Doom Fest — with Spiral Grave and others, and will travel to California next Spring for Psycho Smokeout. So yes, keeping busy. I don’t know if they’re planning another record or what, but they’ve got plenty of time to keep aligned with their every-two-decades pace, and I’m happy to see them play whenever the opportunity presents itself. Hearing Live at the Wax Museum only underscores why.
Today is also a new episode of The Obelisk Show on Gimme Radio. The first new one in more than a month. You hopefully already saw the playlist. It’s on at 1PM Eastern.
While I’m indulging shameless plugs, I’ll be at Ode to Doom tomorrow in Manhattan, presented in part by this site. Horehound, Thunderbird Divine, Mantismass and Iron Rider are playing.
Before you say it, I know Slayer and Primus are at MSG tomorrow night. In the hallowed halls of the Knicks and Billy Joel. Cough. I won’t ever tell you not to go see Primus, and I get that it’s Slayer’s alleged farewell tour, but yeah. Seems like as regards Slayer, I’ve got my memories of seeing them destroy, and I’d rather make new memories than relive old ones. So I’ll be at Arlene’s Grocery. I’m not telling you you’re wrong for being nostalgic — Primus are one of my all-time favorite bands; I’ve loved Primus since I was single digits, and I’ve loved seeing them every chance I’ve had — or trying to get while the getting’s good, but yeah. I’ve never seen Thunderbird Divine, or Mantismass, or Iron Rider, and Horehound rule, so I’ll take the lower key option and be grateful for it.
This weekend is also my sister’s birthday, so we’re doing family dinner tonight because I’ll be out tomorrow — not at all the first time I’ve rescheduled such things for a show; these people are very indulgent, these relatives of mine — and then I guess other whatnot over the course of the next couple days that I’m sure will be good.
That’s fine. It was a shit week. They all are. I spent most of it overthinking food, yelling at a two-year-old, feeling bad for yelling at a two-year-old, getting hit, kicked and bit at various points, being wrong about fucking everything, going back and forth with homeowners insurance, waiting for the other shoe to drop that will make us have to move again and daydreaming about being dead. In any case, a little time out of my head is welcome.
Thanks to everyone who has added a list so far to the end-of-decade poll. If that’s not you, I humbly point you to the form to do so here. Include whatever you want. Have fun with it.
I think that’s the last of the plugs.
Well, unless you count all the stuff for next week. Monday is that Ode review, plus a stream of the new Midas EP. Tuesday a Canyon of the Skull album stream. Wednesday an Onhou album stream — dark, dark, dark that one is. Thursday a track premiere and review of the new Solace record that I should probably just start writing now to get it done in time. Next Friday a Czar track premiere. Whole week, nailed down. Most of the week after as well. Busy times for being the “off season” in rock and roll, but it usually is, so fair enough.
Gonna try to get my head into the day to come (still early as I write) and probably fail miserably, as I so, so often do.
Great and safe weekend. Forum, radio and NEW merch.
