They may or may not have pared down to a trio since, but it appears that for the bulk of their short tenure, Richmond, Virginia’s Sinister Haze were fronted by Brandon Malone, also of Fire Faithful. He’s not listed as being in the band now — the current lineup given is guitarist/vocalist Brandon Marcey (Cough), bassist Sam Marsh (Dry Spell) and drummer Joe Dillon (Balaclava) — but Malone‘s low, Southern metal soul delivery definitely has left a mark on Sinister Haze‘s aptly-titled 2013 Demo, whether it’s the bluesy Church of Misery-style swagger of “Changin’ Ways” or the loose Electric Wizard affiliation shown through the nine-minute “Black Shapeless Demon.” Marcey‘s own vocals are mostly screams that come forward more on the shorter “Betrayed by Time,” which closes out the three-song affair, but there are times especially on the first two tracks when it’s pretty clear there are two voices working in tandem, and presumably that’s a result of Malone and Marcey both contributing, not just different layers on the Griffin IV-recorded CD and tape, which is set for release through Unholy Anarchy Records in time for the band’s headlining gig at the first night of this year’s Autumn Screams Doom at The Ottobar in Baltimore, Oct. 25.

If it seems strange that a band just putting out their first demo of whom there seems to be no record going back any further than the start of 2013 would be playing last for the night at a fest that also features Negative Reaction, Weed is Weed, Iron Man, Wizard Eye and Serpent Throne — all of whom have been around considerably longer and are not without pedigree of their own in varying degrees — one might chalk it up to the immediately recognizable and acknowledged Saint Vitus influence in Marcey‘s guitar, delivered in kind with Dillon‘s bombastic crash. Or hell, maybe they know someone. Point is it’s a fucking quality demo, full of Southern grit without the post-Down dudely posturing, and raw and fucked-up sounding without making a lo-fi caricature of garage doom. “Black Shapeless Demon” is probably my pick of the three cuts here, but “Betrayed by Time” has a creeper catchiness to it that begs for repeat listens and even “Changin’ Ways” makes a hook out of its chorus, as oddly dismantled as it might seem. If nothing else, they make it apparent that their interest in fucking around is slim to none.

And with the prospect of what could be a different configuration that’ll either position Marcey as the frontman or bring someone else into the band to replace Malone, there’s even more intrigue for Sinister Haze as they move past their Demo, but most importantly for their first time out, these songs are heavy as hell and show Sinister Haze as being more than able to take the reins on a drunken sludge lurch. Always a welcome find, and bonus if it leads to further distorted misanthropy down the road.

You can hear Sinister Haze‘s Demo now streaming as part of the 24/seven The Obelisk Radio playlist, or check it out on the Bandcamp player below:

Sinister Haze, Demo (2013)

Sinister Haze on Thee Facebooks

Sinister Haze on Bandcamp

By no means do I want to imply that a straightedge post-metal band from Central Mexico is the thing you’re least likely to encounter in a given day, but Akûma are the first I’ve come across. The Morelia four-piece made their debut on Magnetic Eye Records last year with their Fearless John EP, and they follow it up with their sophomore full-length, For the Beloved Bones, tapping into atmospheric influences from an array of sources, pulling elements from Neurosis, Cult of Luna, Mastodon, some black metal, some post-hardcore destructiveness, and set it to inhumane tonality weighted enough to turn those beloved bones into beloved powder. That they don’t drink or do drugs, whoopie, I don’t really care. They’re heavy as fuck and that’s the part that matters.

Shades of High on Fire-style thrashing show up on “Peach” and the bonus track “MM/Mx,” but on the whole, Akûma seem to be more concerned with apocalyptic aural oppression and atmospheric densities. In the realm of post-metal, there are bands who sound like Isis and there are bands who don’t. Akûma don’t, and as a comparison point, the lonely echoing guitar on “Avalon” reminds me more of the latest Beast in the Field than anything else, setting an open-sky ambience that comes crashing down with the subsequent “Exiled Sons of Eve,” a gang-shouted paean to aggressive songcraft that finds surprising resolution in post-rock melodic soloing. Doomed more in mood than method, For the Beloved Bones puts just enough of an individualized twist on familiar elements to emerge sounding fresh, and whether it’s the acoustic centerpiece “Amongst the Vessels” or the tense build of “Tombs” into album-proper closer “Koyaanisqatsi,” Akûma‘s double-guitar blasts do well in leaving a metallic taste that comes with little sense of posturing.

Songs vary in approach and six out of the 11 on the 36-minute offering are instrumental, so as much as Akûma seem geared toward endtime tales, their priority remains the music itself. Their first album was 2010’s Invocations on the Storm, which was instrumental to an even higher ratio, so one is led to think that maybe they’re adapting themselves over time to a vocalized approach. If that’s what they’re working toward on For the Beloved Bones, the album isn’t any weaker for being a step in an ongoing progression, and if anything, it’s a sign of further heaviness to come. Cuts like the raging “Olas de Sangre” and maddening intro “According to the Currents” probably aren’t going to change your opinion one way or another on post-metal, but as Akûma continue to hammer out their sound, it’s clear they’re working from a strong base of varied influences.

You can hear the entirety of For the Beloved Bones now as part of the 24/7 stream on The Obelisk Radio and check it out on the player below, snagged from the Magnetic Eye Records Bandcamp:

Akûma, For the Beloved Bones (2013)

Akûma on Thee Facebooks

Magnetic Eye Records

The story goes that Buenos Aires-based desert rockers Picaporters recorded their apparently-self-released, apparently-debut full-length, Elefantes, live over the course of two days in March 2013, and I’ll admit that I don’t know much more about them than that. Their sound is heavy, full of swing and ultimately geared toward a brilliantly effective laid back atmosphere, but as to their origins, how the trio of Juan Pablo Herrera (bass), Lucas Barrué (guitar) and Juan Pablo Vázquez (drums) got together (they seem to have lost a member or two along the way), if in fact Elefantes is their debut album, or even if it’s been or will be pressed physically, it’s as yet a mystery. All that leaves, then, is the music.

And to that, I’ll say I broke one of my own rules when it comes to Elefantes. An email came in from the band with little more than, “Hey, listen to our record here’s the Bandcamp link,” and where nine times out of 10, that note gets little more effort in a response than that which was put into the initial contact — i.e., next to none — I checked out Picaporters on a whim and was immediately consumed by the slow unfurling of 11:40 album opener “Hijo de Gaia,” which captures an in-the-studio vibe that still manages to be so relaxed that I couldn’t help but go with it. Some stuff just grabs you. Moments of burst early on do little justice to the flow the band creates, and though they’ll soon enough get up to some grunge-type riffing in the first half of “Idea RAM,” throughout “Hijo de Gaia” and “Emergiendo en Ondas,” a heavy psych groove pervades and sets a calming, engaging tone for the rest of Elefantes to come. “Idea RAM” winds up blending its early-’90s rush with effective jamming explorations, with sets up cool ’70s feel of “Lluvia de Metal,” the beginning of what seems to be a trilogy with “Sol de Metal” and “Eclipse de Metal” to follow. The bass emerges here with standout fills amid airier guitar lines and bouts of reinterpreted Sabbath-meets-Graveyard groove, vocals staying collected throughout en route to an echoing blues solo. The “de Metal” portion might be some of Elefantes‘ most effective material, but really it’s just one portion of the record’s diverse and universally switched-on course.

“Lluvia de Metal” finishes out with a touch of boogie built around quick rhythmic turns, and “Sol de Metal” picks up from silence to spend its first two minutes or so in humble desert guitar exploration before a heavier rock riff breaks down the door and pushes forth with significant thrust. A change in the vocal approach finds Picaporters tapping into echo that reminds of earliest Jesu — could be coincidence, could be on purpose — even as they hit on a relatively straightforward progression. That contrast makes the Elefantes centerpiece all the more intriguing, but as it becomes increasingly clear throughout, the real highlight moments are to be found in the instrumental interplay between the band members and the overall mood of the songs themselves — not dark, not pretentious, not trying too hard to fit with genre. The solo on “Sol de Metal” is almost too active to pair with the longer-held vocals that precede it, but it’s a minor gripe and the band soon breaks to bass and drums to reset the jam for what seems like a more fitting, improvised build before they fade back into the soft guitar line that opened the song for an unexpected show of symmetry. Though it’s less than half the length of its predecessor at 3:10, “Eclipse de Metal” ends the sequence fading up to find Picaporters in medias res on another warm instrumental excursion, the guitar wandering around lead lines while the bass and drums hold together a straightforward, classically heavy groove that seems to be in direct conversation with that of “Lluvia de Metal.” Seems only fitting.

Gradually, they fade “Eclipse de Metal” back to the silence from whence it came — another show of symmetry that gives a “slice of life” touch to the song — and shift course to the sweetly Hendrixian “Alternative Girl.” Also instrumental, it feels like the beginning process of what might’ve come out on the other end as a complete, structured song, but here winds up being an unabashedly pretty stretch that of course finds contrast to its brief two-minute pulse with the brash heavy rock return of “Amantes Instantes.” With Elefantes‘ most insistent heavy groove, the penultimate track stretches over eight minutes and meets early verse/chorus tradeoffs with a solo-led jam that, among other things, also accounts for the best basswork on the album. A sudden break after three minutes in is a surprise, but the bass leads the rebuilding process and just past minute four, they surge to life again, dynamic and with multiple layers of vocals where everything else seemed to be singularly delivered. Crashes and stops add a sense of chaos, and they break again, with soft vocals over quietly plucked guitars. This time, when they return with just about two minutes left, it’s with a slower, more low-end-driven part, pushed along, it would seem in its own miniature ebbs and flows.

How else to end such a thing but with a raging thrash breakdown in the last 30 seconds? “Amantes Instantes” is one of those songs that has more twists to it than some other bands’ whole albums, and it was clearly intended to be the culmination of Elefantes since what follows is a cover of Led Zeppelin‘s “Rock and Roll” that presents the Led Zeppelin IV single as a handclap-inclusive blues stomper, complete with jangly shuffle, soulful solo, drum breaks and repurposed “ooh yeah”s that groove the record out with a lighthearted sense that’s not quite a return to the unassuming start that “Hijo de Gaia” provided, but is nowhere near as severe as it would’ve been had they closed with “Amantes Instantes.” The whole album is available for free download through Picaporters‘ Bandcamp, and though they’re not exactly forthcoming on their backstory, sometimes the music does all the speaking that really needs to be done. However long they’ve been around, whether it’s two years or 10, Elefantes impresses with its cohesiveness, natural vibe and shifts in tone.

You can hear it now as part of the regular playist for The Obelisk Radio and stream it on the player below:

Picaporters, Elefantes (2013)

Picaporters on Thee Facebooks

Picaporters website

The crux of Nonsun‘s Sun Blind Me is set early on, as the Ukrainian duo of Goatooth (vocals/guitar/bass) and Alpha (drums) unfold the first of their latest release’s four massive tracks with an ultra-patient, ultra-dark droning atmosphere. That song, “Rain Have Mercy,” is the longest at 11:57 (immediate points), but consistent in its sprawl and intent with the rest of Sun Blind Me, having been extended from a prior version included on the Lviv twosome’s last outing, 2012’s Good Old Evil, which was dubbed an EP though it ranged close to 50 minutes. Sun Blind Me follows this ethic as well, and between “Rain Have Mercy” and the subsequent “Forgotten is What Never Was” (11:22) is comprised half of older material and half of newer — the latter two cuts, “Alphomega (Part I: Sunlit Darkness)” and “Alphomega (Part II: Upward Blindness)” taking the drone and the darkly metallic plod that offsets it to even more inhuman-sounding aesthetic cohesion.

Nearly everything I’ve seen from Nonsun in terms of press quotes marks them out as a sludge band, and indeed they do themselves as well, but I disagree, at least if you’re looking at sludge in the sense of acts like EyeHateGod or Iron Monkey. Where chaos is part of the appeal in the work of those outfits, Nonsun come across as much more complex, the “Alphomega” two-parter taking its time even more than the first two songs on Sun Blind Me in moving between a mounting static noise of the first part to the emergence of an overlaying guitar part over the more minimalist second. At first, it seemed strange to me that Nonsun would open with older songs before moving into newer ones, but with the last half of Sun Blind Me being instrumental and even more broiled in its droning morass, it ultimately makes sense. That’s not to say “Rain Have Mercy” or “Forgotten is What Never Was” are particularly accessible, but at least there are vocals, and it shows that whatever Goatooth and Alpha might bring to their newest outing, they’re not willing yet to give up completely the methodologies they proffered on their debut.

As for those, I’d mark them more in league with a droned-out take on Euro-doom than sludge, though that influence may well be at work as well. There’s a sense of a plan at work throughout Sun Blind Me, though, and that remains so even as “Alphomega (Part II: Upward Blindess)” moves into the Earth-style sparseness of its second half, sounding mechanical while even for being plenty brutal in their own right, “Rain Have Mercy” and “Forgotten is What Never Was” eventually come around to the human element of vocals, growled and lurching though those vocals may be. Whatever sphere they’re working in and however drone-heavy that sphere might wind up being, Nonsun present a caustic but hypnotic take on tonal weight and a vague industrial influence without coming off as trying to reside in one genre or another. Their sound is clearly still in development, as indicated by the progress in approach from the first offering to the next, but they seem to be heading in a fascinating direction and I’ll look forward to finding out where it might go from here when and if they embark on an official full-length debut or subsequent EP or single.

Listen to Sun Blind Me as part of the playlist in regular rotation on The Obelisk Radio now. Already distributed digitally by Drowning, Nonsun will issue a tape of Sun Blind Me through Breathe Plastic that’s due out soon. You can also listen to it on the Bandcamp player below:

Nonsun, Sun Blind Me (2013)

Nonsun on Thee Facebooks

Breathe Plastic

Drowning

This one kind of crept up on me. I saw a couple weeks ago we were getting closer to 4,000 posts, but then I guess I forgot to pay attention and looked two days ago and we were there. Time flies when, uh, time is flying.

It’s been a lot of upheaval the last couple weeks for me on a personal level. Buying a house, then not buying it, having to scramble to find a place to live in a state I don’t really know (yet), then finally finding it, maybe not, maybe yes. Yes? I guess so. Seems like it, but that’s hardly the first time. If nothing falls apart and no secret chemical spills come to light, The Patient Mrs. and I will move next Thursday. A week from today.

The point is it’s stressful, and as has become my habit over the last four-plus years, I’ve been using this site as a means for finding some kind of stability in what’s been a teeth-grindingly unstable time. Thank you for continuing to read, to show your support, to be patient in my not answering emails in a timely fashion, to spread links, retweet, like posts, leave comments, whatever it is. Just yesterday, that Monster Magnet stream topped 1,000 Thee Facebooks likes. I try not to define my self-worth by such things, and I know for a fact that the link spreading around has nothing to do with my writing and everything to do with the fact that the song is good and it’s their first US tour in a decade, but this is the internet and I take validation wherever I can get it. So again, thank you.

I never have so I won’t start now to claim to have any idea what the future holds, for me, for this site, for anything. But as we pass 4,000 posts on this site, I’m glad for the things it has been able to accomplish and I have enjoyed watching it become the time-consuming beast it has become. If you’re reading this, then you’re keeping me going, so one more time before I move to the next thing, thank you.

Onward.

The Obelisk Forum

The Obelisk Radio

In the Gozu interview that went up yesterday, there was a discussion of that feeling when a song fits together almost instantaneously in the rehearsal space — no real back and forth, no drama over parts, nothing like that. It just happens and then is done. New York heavy bluesers Geezer seem to have recently experienced such a phenomenon, and their new self-released EP, Gage, is what they have to show for it.

It’s only been a couple months since Geezer released their debut full-length, Handmade Heavy Blues — not enough time for me to review it, apparently — an album rife with slide guitar and gravely vocals, easy grooves and even an early-featured cover of The Beatles‘ “Why Don’t We Do it in the Road,” which sums up a good deal of the attitude present throughout. Gage came together as a quick follow-up when the trio — guitarist/vocalist Pat Harrington, bassist Freddy Villano and drummer Chris Turco — entered the studio to record a track, presumably the fuzz-dreaming opener “Ancient Song,” for an upcoming Grip of Delusion Radio compilation. One became three, the live cut “Dude, it’s Molecular” was added, and an EP was made. Sometimes it’s just that simple. Rarely, but sometimes.

The EP itself reflects the relative smoothness of the process that bore it into the world. Harrington‘s guitar leads the way through “Ancient Song,” but the laid back groove that Villano and Turco throw down is not to be understated, the band departing from some of Handmade Heavy Blues‘ insistence in favor of a languid pace and jammy feel, the vocals tapping into American stoner rock burl while staying deep in the mix and giving the riff the primary space it deserves. Second cut “Thorny” is shorter and bluesier, but also quiet, and the shift to a more subdued atmosphere is at once unexpected and naturally done. The three-piece prove more dynamic throughout than one simple meter or vibe, and “Thorny” feels quick at just over four minutes of airy electric strum, warm bass and minimalist timekeeping, like the psychedelic Americana that Scott H. Biram forgot he always wanted to make, or like Larman Clamor at its most reserved.

With a rhythm and inflection similar to a less bombastic take on Halfway to Gone‘s “Great American Scumbag,” “Ghost Rider Solar Plexus” is the highlight of Gage for its open verses turning Sunday school into a bad trip and extended its solo break, which Geezer skillfully bring back to the chorus at the end, never letting the jam get the best of them. Reportedly played only the one time, “Dude, it’s Molecular” fades up with a clearer live guitar swell and snare rattle to gradually morph into an organic, improv-sounding instrumental that sounds as close to the jam room as we’re likely to get with the band, ending as unassumingly as it started. Geezer — who will play The Acheron in Brooklyn on July 27 as part of The Eye of the Stoned Goat 3 (more info here) — are a relatively new band, but comprised of veterans who obviously know the value that chemistry between players can bring to a lineup. I’m thrilled to get Gage added to The Obelisk Radio this week.

You can hear it there now as part of the regular playlist, or check it out on the player below from the Geezer Bandcamp, where it’s also available for a pay-what-you-will download:

Geezer on Bandcamp

Geezer on Thee Facebooks

I’m all for bands recording as much as possible and releasing it themselves, and I’m all for warts-and-all live bootlegs, so it’s no big surprise that when it comes to Beaverton, Oregon’s Doomsower and their first official bootleg, Upon an Obsidian Throne, I’m right on board with the proceedings. The doomly rocking three-piece manage to sneak four songs into the half-hour set, which was recorded earlier this year at the second annual Ceremony of Sludge, put on by the folks at Captain Couch Records at The Alleyway in Portland, and yeah, it’s pretty raw-sounding, but so was Doomsower‘s 1974 full-length (review here), so even for being bare-bones, Upon an Obsidian Throne is at very least consistent.

More importantly, it’s also comprised completely of what I assume is new material written since the release of 1974 — well, maybe not completely, since it starts out with a nod to “War Pigs” and that’s definitely older — and the songs feel suitably developed from the analog-minded lurch-and-groove of the album, whether it’s the bizarre, droning course of “Astoria,” which might actually be more than one song, or the riffed-out chorus to “Shrine of the Timber Gods.” I’ll give “Troll Hunter” best title, and though like a lot of bootlegs you kind of have to adjust your ear to the sound of it, Upon an Obsidian Throne winds up well worth the effort, sounding on the proto-metal shuffle of “Magic Bullet” like it’s just begging for a tape release. Or, for that matter, a tape trade.

Obviously I don’t know whether these four songs will appear on Doomsower‘s next studio offering or not, but taken on its own level, Upon an Obsidian Throne gives a decent showing of where the three-piece might be headed, blending brash heavy rock and crunchier doomed passages to something engagingly heavy and a little dangerous at the same time. In hopes of getting to know it better and maybe spreading the word a bit, I’ve made it the Add of the Week for The Obelisk Radio, so you can hear it in rotation as part of that playlist, as well as download it from the player below, which comes directly courtesy of the Doomsower Bandcamp. Either way, please enjoy.

Doomsower, Upon an Obsidian Throne (2013)

The young lady sharing a high-five with what appears to be a Parisian owlsquatch in the picture above is vocalist Shannon-Allie Murphy of Colorado-based heavy Americana rockers Brightstar. Last year, Murphy released Brightstar‘s debut album, All the Way, and though one might take whimsy away from the above, the record’s actually way more geared toward a dark, sparse prairie sound, fostered by Murphy‘s collaboration with guitarist/vocalist T.G. Olson of Across Tundras.

Now, Olson‘s droning soundtrack to Cormac McCarthy‘s Blood Meridian was featured here last week, but though it shares some of the same innate harvest doom tonality with Brightstar, I think you’ll agree the two are working in a much different vein, as perhaps signaled by the Hans Büscher artwork above. All the Way hinges on country rock with brooding songs like “No Kiss Goodbye” or the acoustic-treated traditionalism of “The Blackest Crow,” elsewhere giving itself to echoing ethereality on the Murphy-penned and recorded “Trapped in a Song” or tapping into effective attitude-laden Westernism on “Tide Pool,” Olson backing on vocals and even taking lead for part of the chorus while also contributing a large portion of the instrumentation throughout.

Elsewhere, other contributors make their presences felt, whether it’s Brandon Freeman‘s rumbling bass on the more-uptempo-than-it-seems opening title-track or Matt Johnson‘s synth on the later “No Georgia Moonshine,” which blends strikingly well with the acoustic guitar arrangement where one might otherwise think it’d be at odds, giving an underlying sense of psychedelia even as it adds dimension to the already wide landscape the song casts. Both “Trapped in a Song” and the more textured “Down by the Hollow” remind some of Sera Timms‘ work in Ides of Gemini or her own Black Mare solo project, but the collaboration between Murphy and Olson in Brightstar gives it its own dynamic, not necessarily hinged to one genre or another but still definitively American in its sound and scope.

You can hear All the Way as part of The Obelisk Radio playlist as of about five minutes ago when I uploaded the files to the server, and also check it out and grab a free download courtesy of the Brightstar Bandcamp page. Either way, please enjoy:

Brightstar, All the Way (2012)