Posted in Bootleg Theater on February 8th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
This past Friday, classically progressive heavy rockers Mouth released Vortex Redux through This Charming Man Records. And though ‘redux’ in a heavy context has come to be associated with Magnetic Eye Records‘ ongoing album-tribute series, no, this is not Mouth or anyone else covering their own album. Remastered with the included bonus track “Turn the Lie” (video premiering below) and liner notes by yours truly.
The Köln-based trio — now comprised of guitarist/vocalist/keyboardist Christian Koller, drummer/keyboardist Nick Mavridis and bassist Thomas Johnen, who made his first appearance on last year’s Getaway (review here) in the role previously filled by Gerald Kirsch — originally released Vortex (review here) in 2017 through Al!ve/Blunoise Records as an eight-years-later follow-up to their debut, Rhizome, but really, it was the point at which their proggy intent found its fruition. With underlying influence from the heavier end of the style and a modern cast on vintage ideologies, they’ve been able to position themselves in both worlds as a band whose foundation is in prog textures with keys and retro organs and synth and melodies and all that stuff mixed with the occasional let-loose of a thicker shove.
It’s a fine line and Mouth dance all over it, but you’ll pardon me if I leave the analysis there. I’ve both reviewed this album AND I wrote the liner notes below in blue — as opposed to the usual ‘bio I wrote’ tag I apply in situations where editorial and promotional lines are blurred (always uncomfortable; full disclosure, I actually don’t remember if I was compensated or not for the below writing; I’m terrible with money and knowing things generally; see also ‘incompetent’) — that begin with “Welcome…” and end where they end. Seems like plenty, so if you’re still reading at all and haven’t already started the clip, I’ll just say that that whole “prog + fun” equation alluded to above is exactly what comes to life here, and in close-up style.
Plenty more of my blah blah blah follows — I didn’t even know they were using the notes as promo copy until the record was out, but fair enough — and the clip’s three minutes and weird and kind of lo-fi, which somehow makes it more of a good time. But you’re right in the box with them, so I hope you’ve showered recently. Nobody wants to be the one stinking up the practice space.
Please enjoy:
Mouth, “Turn the Lie” video premiere
This is the bonus track of the redux version of MOUTH’s second album VORTEX. Order the new mastered and reworked album here:
Welcome to the definitive Vortex. The LP you’re holding has been on a journey, and no, not just shipping. Mouth’s second after 2009’s Rhizome, Vortex was mostly recorded in 2011 and 2012 over five sessions in a small space where the band rehearsed. Material was pieced together intermittently over a period of 11 months with Chris Koller handling guitar, keys and bass and Nick Mavridis on drums. That’s where it started. Two construction projects: the studio and a recording that would help define the course of the band in classic and melodic progressive rock, happening almost simultaneously in a creative meta-narrative that could easily stand as analog for the depth of pieces like “Into the Light” or the sprawling “Vortex” itself, which opens the record (new and old editions) in an encompassing display of impulse and fluidity
Through experiments in atmosphere like “March of the Cyclopes” and toward the finish of “Epilogue,” Mouth married sounds that in other contexts would come up disparate, like finding a hidden magnetism between two north poles.
Most of the Vortex songs were created on the spot in the studio.There would be no way to know it at the time, but this process would result in a collection of songs with a broad range, within as well as between the component tracks. “Parade” taps Sly Stone on the shoulder and asks if he wants to party (he does), while the penultimate “Soon After…” resonates with its smoky, mellow-jazz vibe. “Vortex” itself happens over six movements and was put together across different sessions, while “Epilogue” happened in a day.
Dissatisfaction with the original mix – and when an album has as much put into its arrangements as Vortex, that balance matters – would lead Mouth to offer Out of the Vortex in 2020 as a collection of alternate versions of pieces like “Mountain” and “Parade,” as well as the unreleased “Ready” and “Homagotago’s Paddle Boat Trip,” the latter an apparent successor to a cut from Floating. But sometimes a thing nestles itself into the back of your head and just won’t leave, and Mouth’s pursuit of a finished Vortex would lead them into the studio again.
Koller handled the remix himself in Oct. 2023, and in addition to helming the new master, krautrock legend Eroc (who drummed in Grobschnitt) brought a gong to mark the beginning of “March of the Cyclopes.” Like a lot of the finer touches on this Vortex, be it a hashed-out stretch in the title-track built on a drum/bass jam or just pulling the vocals and Hammond down a bit in “Epilogue,” the result is a stylistic flourishing that was there all along throughout the journey and now can finally shine as the band intended. – JJ Koczan / Dec. 2023
Pressing Info: 100 copies black (mailorder edition) 400 copies purple transparent wax -> all copies come with a fold out poster
A bit of drift to start and soon enough, “Getaway” is gone. The organ is the tell. Movement, in movements. Soon, German trio Mouth are fully immersed in the classic prog boogie of the title-track to their fourth full-length. Getaway is comprised of six tracks and totals 44 minutes, 22 of which are dedicated to “Getaway” — all of side A — which serves as opener and longest cut (immediate points) as well as the beginning of the narrative that plays out across the total span. To put it to scale, the next longest piece on side B is “Asylum/Sea” at 5:59, so it’s a significant jump in methodology from one half of the record to the other, but the Cologne-based Mouth have been at this a while now, and though bassist Thomas Johnen (also some guitar) makes his first studio-LP appearance here alongside guitarist/vocalist/keyboardist Christian Koller and drummer/keyboardist Nick Mavridis, he’s actually been in the band since 2019, taking the place of Gerald Kirsch, who remains credited with at least some of the low end on the album.
Either way, Mouth know what they’re doing. Self-produced by the band and mixed by Mavridis and Johnen (Eroc at Mastering Ranch mastered), Getaway follows five years after Mouth‘s last full-length, 2018’s Floating (review here), although they did release the Past Present Future (review here) compilation in 2019 and reissue their 2009 debut, Rhizome, in 2020. Still, as Floating arrived just a year after 2017’s Vortex (review here), the five-year stretch between LPs is notable, but readily explained between the lineup change and global catastrophe.
One might also wonder over just how long a period Getaway was recorded and, particularly in the case of its title-track — an obvious focal point since it takes up half the record and shares its name — how it was built up to flow as smoothly as it does, working through classic prog boogie into psych rock and coming out clean on the other side with a smoothly punctuated verse 16 minutes in, organ and acoustic and electric guitar all intertwining behind storytelling that, whether it’s ’70s or ’90s-inspired is anyone’s guess, but that feels natural when the solo starts and wouldn’t have been out of place 10 years ago on Elektrohasch; yes, I’m thinking of Hypnos 69.
The hidden message of “Getaway” — which blows itself out vocally on the repeated line “We dance in the underground” (please note: we do not all dance) before gradually hypnotizing around various melodies, some Mellotron floating in, light vocals, and so on, in its last three minutes — is one of plot. That solo (it begins at 17:37) is only a few measures long before the distorted vocals take over, but it underscores the point that even so far into such a willfully expansive piece they’d still hold firm to their intention. Part of the ending feels improvised, from about 19:15 through 20:15, but the keyboard and quiet vocals, organ, et al, that pick up from there to finish are both a welcome build and a mapped-out course. Mouth are not lacking structure really in any of Getaway, and even in letting go, the title-track stands as a clear demonstration of what they can do within the given sprawl of their sound.
Platter flip and “On the Boat” (premiering above) leads off side B and rocks harder around a comparatively straightforward central groove and hook, the vocals picking up with the farther-back-and-distorted; think “Cat’s foot, iron claw/Neurosurgeon screams for more” à la King Crimson, but with a heavy push from the drums and an insistent progression of organ, guitar and bass to coincide, twisting into the falsetto chorus, looping back through toward a solo and final chorus to end, transitioning smoothly to the instrumental “Asylum/Sea.”
So, quickly momentum takes a different form on side B, and there’s a narrative to Getaway that’s apparent just from the names of the songs — “Getaway” on side A, while side B is “On the Boat,” “Asylum/Sea,” “Purge and Hunt,” “Once” and “Drowning” — and if Mouth are writing about Europe’s ongoing refugee crisis, fair enough for their not forcing a happy ending where one doesn’t always go. “Asylum/Sea” finds its melodic stretchout in the Mellotron, and Mavridis‘ snare is tight and cuts through, but not so much as to disturb the quiet of the waves that surround it, where “Purge and Hunt” is more urgent in its organ-rock shove and more purposefully brash in its crashes and lead twists of guitar initially.
A break after about 2:40 into the total 5:41 marks the launch point for an exploratory part that’s mellower and seems to have some Rhodes or other kind of vintage-sounding keys worked in around sustained guitar drone and jazzy drums, but it’s the organ line that holds past the finish and that lets the funky “Once” pick up from there with its short but atmospheric bounce. It might be garage rock but for all the keyboards, but you’d never know it with the finer detailing that surrounds, and that keeps it consistent with the material prior, be it “Purge and Hunt” or “Getaway” itself.
The layers of keys, gentle melodicism and drumless rhythm of “Drowning” lend it something of an epilogue feel, but if that’s how the story ends — i.e. with the depicted refugees drowning — then it is an essential facet of the story itself. There are no lyrics, so they leave it at least somewhat open to interpretation, but as with “Asylum/Sea” finding a calm moment between the excitement of “On the Boat” and “Purge and Hunt,” Mouth imbue “Drowning” with a sense of melancholy for its sub-three-minutes that rises from silence, establishes its layers of organ/synth, holds its dirge, and drops to silence as if to leave you asking what happens next.
Ideally we all give money to Greenpeace and like-minded organizations, but either way, that the story being depicted throughout aligns naturally with what the instruments and lyrics are doing is another level of showcase through which Getaway feels so well considered. It is not overwrought or too thought out, not flat or lacking passion, but there’s a thread woven through the songs that brings them together, an energy in the listening, that makes the entire procession feel carefully sculpted, even in its off-the-cuff moments. This may be business as usual for Mouth on paper, but in hearing the album, their sense of guiding the audience through the songs — instrumentally and in terms of the narrative — is palpable, and whether they’re psyched-out, dug-in or just plain ol’ heavy rocking, they remain sure in what they want to do. The results are all the more satisfying for that.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Heretofore undervalued classic progressive rockers Mouth would seem to be at the starting point of the promotional cycle for their next album. Their fourth studio LP overall, it’s titled Getaway, which bodes well for anyone perhaps seeking escapist pastoralia, and will see release this summer as their first collaboration with the of-venerable-taste This Charming Man Records. I know precious little about the record to be issued beyond the title, but the Köln-based trio have been dutifully posting social media updates on its status, and it looks like the show they played on Feb. 11 doubled maybe as a celebration of having finished the mastering. If that’s not true, then at least they’re close to it. “Finishing touches,” and all that.
The otherwise latest release from Mouth — also stylized all-lowercase: mouth — is 2020’s Out of the Vortex, which featured alternate versions and off-LP tracks from the sessions for their direction-defining 2017 sophomore full-length, Vortex (review here), which set them on a path of warm and spacious prog, linked in aesthetic to the early ’70s and readily acknowledging that as a key influence. The band’s roots go back to the turn of the century, which was celebrated on 2019’s compilation, Past Present Future (review here), and one looks forward to hearing four years after that how the ‘future’ portion might manifest on Getaway. May we all have a lounger reserved for us on Prog Island.
The band posted the following announcement on the aforementioned socials, keeping it quick and to the point. Hopefully I’ll have more to come on the album before summer gets here.
Dig:
We are proud to announce we are now part of the THIS CHARMING MAN familiy. We signed the contract for our 6th release (4th longplayer studio album) GETAWAY said to be released on vinyl on this magnificent record label this summer!
MOUTH: Christian Koller: vocals, guitars & keyboards Thomas Johnen: bass Nick Mavridis: drums, keyboards
Posted in Questionnaire on January 24th, 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: Cécile Ash of The Moth
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I try to realize everything that is important to me. Some projects though will never see life, because of fate, because of circumstances that were beyond my power.
Describe your first musical memory.
I think it was the French melody of a wind-up music toy my brothers and I had as toddlers. My mother sang us the lyrics that belonged to it: „Combien coûte ce chien dans la vitrine, combien coûte ce chien noir et blanc?“ ‘How much costs this dog in the shop window? How much costs this dog black and white?’
Describe your best musical memory to date.
Concerning my own musical story that definitely was in 1999 when I met Freden (the guitarist of our band THE MOTH) and Steffen on the sidewalk of Hamburg’s red light-district, St. Pauli. I was going out on my own, not knowing anybody and feeling quite alone and lost when I met them in front of a bar. I had known Freden a little bit from his band SISSIES and Steffen was a friend of his, that I had never met before. Somehow we immediately started deep-talking about music and how we considered it should be. Right the next evening we met in a rehearsal room… Our band BANGKOK CASH was born. I had been in bands before, but this immediately felt right, like something I had been looking for, for a long time.
I had found my home – music- and also people-wise. Suddenly I had friends, a band and found the most important constant of my life: making that kind of music. BANGKOK CASH split 10 years later, but Freden and I continued rehearsing together and founded THE MOTH in 2012. We have been writing songs for 22 years now. I am so thankful that back then, when it all started, Freden, and also Steffen, didn’t care I was a woman, but just saw me as another musician. We were in our early 20s where that attitude wasn’t understood for all, and for some still isn’t.
Concerning my best musical memory with another band, this was when we toured with CONAN for a week. They are one of my very few favourite bands and having the huge luck to tour with them and listen and party to their crushing sets every night, standing next to my bandmates, was an awesome experience, just bliss.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
There have been two or three times in my life when convictions I had had about someone where suddenly and massively disappointed. This happened with the people I felt closest to or loved most at that time. So, of course the cut then was brutal.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
I’m not sure if art gets better, the better you get at it. Some of the best or most brutal songs are very simple. If the power is there, it’s there. And often the rawer it is, the better. At least, this is my taste.
How do you define success?
It is when you overcome fears and self-doubts to do something that is very important to you and that you have wished for, for a long time. And keep on doing it. This will lead to a life that I would call successful, because you have nothing to regret, at least nothing that you have had power over. If everything that you want to do or be, is a part of your life, then you are successful at it. Even if these things aren’t your job or don’t bring you lots of money. Though it would be great if they did!
On a more superficial level of course you feel successful if what you do is acknowledged and liked by (many) others. This is very satisfying, too. Especially if it took you courage and lots of work to get there.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
I’m gonna keep this my secret.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
I would like to write a book some day. But I don’t know what about yet.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
To be a home for our soul, our wounds and emotions that define who we are in our very core. That core that isn’t perceptible from the outside, made of rage, grief, but also of a special powerful energy at life, a will of life, that is innate to oneself. Music can then feel like meeting a friend, a soul-mate, that has been through the same things. Actually, when I think of it, in my case that makes quite sense: I have only very little bands that really touch me. Because they resonate with the feelings that define me most. Just like I only have a very few very good friends. Then there are some other bands I like to listen to, like friends I really enjoy but that maybe aren’t that close to me.
Concerning making art oneself, I guess it’s similar: Having the urge and opportunity to express your core emotions, your core energy.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Always looking forward to the next summer and a stay at the beach.
Last day, you know the drill. It’s been a pleasure, honestly. If every Quarterly Review could feature the quality of material this one has, I’d probably only spend a fraction of the amount of time I do fretting over it. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading and enjoyed the music as much as I have. If you haven’t found something here to sit with and dig into yet, well, today’s 10 more chances to do just that. Maybe something will stick at last.
See you in September.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
Paradise Lost, Obsidian
It is impossible to listen to Obsidian and consider Paradise Lost as anything other than masters of the form. Of course, that they were one of the original pioneers of gothic death-doom helps, but even in the decade-plus since they began to shift back toward a more metallic approach, they have established a standard that is entirely their own. Obsidian collects nine tracks across a palatable 45 minutes, and if the hook of “Fall From Grace” is fan-service on the part of the band, then it is no less righteous for that. In atmosphere and aggression, cuts like “The Devil Embraced” and the galloping “Ghosts” deliver on high expectations coming off 2017’s Medusa (review here), even as side B’s “Ending Days” and “Hope Dies Young” branch into a more melodic focus, not departing from the weight of impact presented earlier, but clearly adjusting the approach, leading to an all the more deathly return on “Ravenghast,” which closes out. Their doom remains second to none; their model remains one to follow.
The narrative thread carried through the six tracks of Vinnum Sabbathi‘s Of Dimensions and Theories is a futuristic sci-fi tale about humanity’s first foray into deep space amid a chaos of environmental collapse and nuclear threat. The real story, however, is the sense of progression the instrumentalist Mexico City outfit bring in following up their debut LP, 2017’s Gravity Works (review here). Tying thematically to the latest Cegvera album — the two bands share personnel — pieces at the outset like “In Search of M-Theory” and “Quantum Determinism” maintain the exploratory vibe of the band’s jammier works in their “HEX” series, but through spoken samples give a human presence and plotline to the alternately atmospheric and lumbering tones. As the record progresses through the airier “An Appraisal” and the feedback-drenched “Beyond Perturbative States,” their dynamic finds realization in “A Superstring Revolution I” and the drum-led “A Superstring Revolution II.” I don’t know about humanity’s prospects as a whole, but Vinnum Sabbathi‘s remain bright.
Composed as a solo outing prior to the founding of Heavy Temple, the Nighthawk solo endeavor (presumably she wasn’t a High Priestess yet), The Sea Legs EP, is plenty self-aware in its title, but for being a raw execution of material written performed entirely on her own, its four tracks also have a pretty significant scope, from the post-QOTSA heavy pop of “Goddamn” leading off through the quick spacegaze of “I’m From Tennessee Woman, All We Do is Honky Tonk,” into the deceptively spacious “I Can Haz” with its far-back toms, dreamy vocal melody and vaguely Middle Eastern-sounding guitar, and ending with the if-Ween‘s-country-album-had-been-weirder finish of “Stay Gold.” Nighthawk has issued a follow-up to The Sea Legs EP in the full-length Goblin/John Carpenter-style synth of The Dimensionaut, but given the range and balance she shows just in this brief 12 minutes, one hopes that indeed her songwriting explorations continue to prove so multifaceted.
Contending for one of the year’s best debut albums, Familiars‘ All in Good Time offers eight songs across 43 minutes that blend organic-feeling grit with more ethereal, landscape-evocative psychedelics. The Ontario three-piece have a few singles to their credit, but the lushness of “Rocky Roost” and the emergent heft of “Barn Burning,” the fleshy boogie of “The Dirty Dog Saloon” and the breadth of “Avro Arrow” speak not just to Familiars‘ ability to capture a largesse that draws their songs together, or the nuance that lets them brings subtle touches of Americana (Canadiana?) early on and echoing desert roll to the fuzzy “The Common Loon,” but also to the songwriting that makes these songs stand out so much as they do and the sense of purpose Familiars bring to All in Good Time as their first long-player. That turns out to be one of the most encouraging aspects of the release, but in that regard there’s plenty of competition from elements like tone, rhythm, melody, craft, performance — so yes, basically all of it.
Mountain Witch‘s fourth album, Extinct Cults, brings the Hamburg-based duo of guitarist René Sitte and drummer/vocalist René Roggmann back after a four-year absence with a collection that straddles the various lines between classic heavy rock, proto-metal, ’70s heavy prog and modern cultism. Their loyalties aren’t necessarily all to the 1968-’74 period, as the chug and gruff vocals of “Back From the Grave” show, but the post Technical Ecstasy sway of the title-track is a fascinating and rarely-captured specificity, and the vocal melodies expressed in layers across the record do much to add personality and depth to the arrangements while the surrounding recording remains essentially raw. No doubt vinyl-minded, Extinct Cults is relatively brief at six songs and 33 minutes, but the Priestly chug of “Man is Wolf to Man” and the engrossing garage doom of closer “The Devil Probably” offer plenty of fodder for those who’d dig in to dig into. It is a sound familiar and individual at once, old and new, and it revels in making cohesion out of such contrasts.
You might find San Francisco trio Disastroid hanging out at the corner of noise and heavy rock, looking disreputable. Their first record for Heavy Psych Sounds is Mortal Fools, and to go with its essential-bloody-essential bass tone and melodic semi-shouted vocals, it brings hints of angularity rounded out by tonal thickness and a smoothness between transitions that extends to the flow from one song to the next. While for sure a collection of individual pieces, Mortal Fools does move through its 43 minutes with remarkable ease, the sure hand of the three-piece guides you through the otherwise willfully tumultuous course, brash in the guitar and bass and drums but immersive in the overarching groove. They seem to save a particular melodic highlight for the verses of closer “Space Rodent,” but really, whether it’s the lumbering “Hopeless” or the sharper-toothed push of “Bilge,” the highlight is what Disastroid accomplish over the course of the record as a whole. Plus that friggin’ bass sound.
I don’t know when this was first released, but the 2020 edition seems to be a remaster, and whenever it first came out, I’m pleased to have the chance to check it out now. Toronto duo Stonegrass brings together Matthew “Doc” Dunn and Jay Anderson, both of a markedly psyched-out pedigree, to dig into experimentalist acid-psych that pushes boundaries stylistic and national, tapping Afrobeat vibes with closer “Drive On” and the earlier 13-minute go-go-go jam “Tea” while “The Highway” feels like a lost psychedelic disco-funk 45, “The Cape” drones like it’s waiting for someone to start reading poetry over-top, and mellow hand-percussion and Turkish psych on centerpiece “Frozen Dunes.” The whole thing, which runs a manageable 39 minutes, is as cool as the day is long, and comes across like a gift to those of expanded mind or who are willing to join those ranks. I don’t know if it’s new or old. I don’t know if it’s a one-off or an ongoing project. I barely know if it’s actually out. But hot damn it’s rad, and if you can catch it, you should.
Norwegian half-instrumental trio Jointhugger have already captured the attention of both Interstellar Smoke Records and Ozium Records with their four-song debut long-player, I Am No One, and as the follow-up to their 2019 Daemo, it leaves little question why. The more volume, the merrier, when it comes to the rolling, nodding, undulations of riff the band conjure, as each member seems geared toward bringing as much weight to bear as much as possible. I’m serious. Even the hi-hat is heavy, never mind the guitar or bass or the cave-echoing vocals of the title-track. “Domen” slips into some shuffle — if you can call something that dense-sounding a shuffle — and underscores its solo with an entire bog’s worth of low end, and though closer “Nightfright” is the only inclusion that actually tops 10 minutes, it communicates an intensity of crush that is nothing if not consistent with what’s come before. There are flashes of letup here and there, but it’s impact at the core of Jointhugger‘s approach, and they offer plenty of it. Don’t be surprised when the CD and LP sell through, and don’t be surprised if they get re-pressed later.
Stepping out both in terms of style and substance from his position as guitarist in atmospheric doomers Messa, Little Albert — aka Alberto Piccolo — pronounces himself “swamp king” in the opening lines of his debut solo release of the same name, and the mellow ambiance and psychedelic flourish of tone in “Bridge of Sighs” and “Mean Old Woman” and the aptly-titled “Blues Asteroid” offer an individualized blend of psychedelic blues that seems to delight in tipping the balance back and forth from one to the other while likewise taking the songs through full band arrangements and more intimate wanderings. Some of the songs have a tendency to roll outward and not return, as does “Mary Claire” or “Mean Old Woman,” but “Outside Woman Blues” and the closer “Hard Time Killing Floor Blues” hold tighter to the ground than some of what surrounds, so again, there’s a balance. Plus, as mellow as Swamp King is in its overarching affect, it’s neither difficult nor anything but a pleasure to follow along where Piccolo leads. If that’s off the psych-blues deep end, so be it. Only issue I take with him being king of the swamp is that the album’s domain hardly seems so limited.
Beautiful, patient and pastoral psychedelia fleshes out across the three tracks of Parahelio‘s debut full-length, Surge Evelia, Surge. Issued on vinyl through Necio Records, the three-song offering reportedly pays homage to a mining town in the band’s native Peru, but it does so with a breadth that seems to cover so much between heavy post-rock and psych that it’s difficult not to imagine places decidedly more ethereal. Beginning with its title-track (12:33) and moving into the swells and recessions of “Gestos y Distancia,” the album builds to an encompassing payoff for side A before unveiling “Ha’Adam,” a 23-minute side-consuming rollout that encompasses not only soundscaping, but a richly human feel in its later take, solidifying around a drum march and a heavy build of guitar that shouldn’t sound strange to fans of Pelican or Russian Circles yet manages somehow to transcend the hypnotic in favor of the dynamic, the immersive, and again, the beautiful. What follows is desolation and aftermath, and that’s how the record ends, but even there, the textures and the spirit of the release remain central. I always do myself a favor with the last release of any Quarterly Review, and this is no exception.
Posted in Bootleg Theater on February 6th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
A bit of context here: German atmospheric sludge instrumentalists BLCKWVS started out — as the more vowel-inclusive Blackwaves — 15 years ago. 0160 is their fifth full-length. Its title makes it of a series that began with the four-piece’s 2005 demo, 0110, and has continued in that manner since, up to their last album, which was 2012’s 0150. A goodly portion of the seven years since that offering would seem to have been put to use in making 0160 itself, which sees release through This Charming Man Records on Feb. 22. It seems likely that some of the reason for the extended break between records — though they’ve done splits and reissues all the while — is down to the fact that there two versions of the new album: one instrumental and one on which every song has a different vocalist.
All or nothing, then. It is a common affliction among instrumental bands to have to explain why they don’t have a singer — just ask Pelican, or better, don’t — and I guess BLCKWVS decided they’d get it all out of their system at once. Fair enough.
Now the titles. The numbers don’t really need an explanation — it’s just how the band works. But if you put the letters together, you get the words “Black Hole No Way Back,” so despite the different vibes brought to the 42-minute release across its eight component tracks by virtue of having eight different singers, the idea is that each song should feed into a singular message. And they do, thanks to the instrumental foundation of BLCKWVS themselves to which the vocal takes have been added. There are some stark contrasts, as when Siggi Rudzynski from Space Chaser does a total Bruce Dickinson over “0162 AC” after the throaty shouts of Toni Hünig from Union of Sleep on the opener, but as the album unfolds that variety becomes part of its overarching personality, and in combination with the consistency in the performance of the core band, its shifts are easy enough to roll with, however much an individual performance might stand out.
To think of it another way, each track sets up its own world that’s part of the solar system that is the whole outing. Each vocal performance revolves around the gravitational pull of BLCKWVS, and together they all give a complete picture of 0160‘s years-in-the-making intent, from the harsh screams of Marc Grewe (ex-Morgoth) to the easy-flowing croon of Black Vulpine‘s Sarah Lisa Middeldorf. It all makes sense… with the proper context.
And one more bit of that. If you’re thinking you’re going to click play on the “0167 AY” video below and hear Christoph “Lupus” Lindemann from Kadavar in his traditional manner, nope. “0167 AY” brings a much more cinematic vibe, with a spoken voiceover and an apocalyptic feel that’s on its own wavelength even as regards the rest of 0160. It still works with the rest of the album, but it’s striking nonetheless. As far as I’m concerned, that just makes it more fun.
Info from the PR wire follows the clip below.
Please enjoy:
BLCKWVS, “0167 AY” official video premiere
It took more than 5 years for these guys to finish this project – a very ambitious project, cause they wanted to do every song with a different singer they love. And as you can imagine, there were a lot of people keen doing it and just a few really did it. So, in the end you’ll get the most promising BLCKWVS record you ever listened to. They still have their trademark monolithic super heavy doom sound, but spiced it a bit.
The following people did their part – and tell a spacey story from song to song. Toni (Union Of Sleep), Ed Fraser / Heads., Marc Grewe (Insidious Disease /orig. Morgoth), Munde (i not dance), Sarah (Black Vulpine), Siggi (Space Chaser), Lupus (Kadavar), Chriss Dettmer and Milo (Rhonda).
Tracklisting: 0161 Bl (feat. Toni Union Of Sleep) 0162 Ac (feat. Siggi Space Chaser) 0163 Kh (feat. Munde Not Dead) 0164 Ol (feat. Milo Rhoda) 0165 En (feat. Sarah Vulpine) 0166 Ow (feat. Chriss Dettmer) 0167 Ay (feat. Lupus Kadavar) 0168 Ba (feat. Marc Grewe) 0169 Ck (feat. Ed Heads.)
BLCKWVS is: Stefan Uhe – Guitar Tobias “Tommec” Völlmecke – Drums Chris Nußbaum – Bass Frank Uelsberg – Keys
Posted in Bootleg Theater on December 28th, 2018 by JJ Koczan
Kadavar, Kadavar
Not many albums are recognizable from even just their snare sound. And likewise, one doesn’t often hear panned drums all stuck over in one channel. But even when it was released, Kadavar‘s Kadavar seemed to be working on its own level.
Issued in 2012 by This Charming Man and Tee Pee Records, the seven-song/41-minute outing arrived at just the right moment to capture the attention of a new generation discovering heavy rock. The Berlin three-piece was comprised at the time of guitarist/vocalist Christoph “Lupus” Lindemann, drummer Christoph “Tiger” Bartelt and bassist Mammut — the latter was soon replaced by Simon “Dragon” Bouteloup — and they were by no means the first band to play ’70s loyalist retro rock. In 2012, the self-titled debut from Sweden’s Witchcraft was already eight years old, and even if that was the breakout moment for vintage-minded heavy, it was by no means the nexus of it. Even the first Graveyard album had come out half a decade earlier — on Transubstans and Tee Pee, mind you, so even the same label in the US. But with Kadavar, they were very much of that same generational switch happening in heavy rock’s audience. The mobilization of social media became a massive factor, and where plenty of bands had done their used-fashion shopping in time for their press shots, Kadavar looked like something out of a 1973 men’s magazine, and the drama of their poses, hair, beards and wardrobe became a crucial part of their aesthetic that the reshaping digital landscape only helped them foster.
It’s never just been about one thing with Kadavar. It’s never just been the look, and it’s never just been the songs, and it’s never just been the huge amount of touring they’ve done over the years. They’re a band with hustle. One recalls that when they played the Sardinian daydream-of-a-festival Duna Jam in 2012, they filmed a video for “All Our Thoughts” on their iPhones. That opening track, which is as much a signature and a herald of their sound as any band could ever hope for, as well as being better composed than most bands could hope for, was premiered here with a giveaway in 2012, and Kadavar was my pick for debut of the year a couple months later as well, but at the time it was impossible really to know the band that Kadavar would become, what their subsequent outings would produce and the work they would do to engage and build their audience, virtual and otherwise. Listening back to cuts like “Black Sun” and “Forgotten Past,” it was the incredible warmth of their tones, the on-beat nature of their boogie and the catchiness of their hooks that were speaking for themselves.
With centerpiece “Goddess of Dawn,” Kadavar nestled themselves into a proto-metallic echelon that was home to precious few bands, and as it was Bartelt doing the recording, mixing and mastering, the willfulness of their aesthetic was all the more prevalent. “Creature of the Dawn” still resonates with the insistent hook of its second half — perhaps unsurprisingly, the album as a whole is well suited to nostalgia even just six years later — and the theremin-inclusive “Purple Sage” (with Shazzula providing the eerie sci-fi sounds) was indicative in its multi-layered soloing of some of the more psychedelic aspects that would continue to be toyed with as Kadavar issued their follow-up as a 2012 split with France’s Aqua Nebula Oscillator, all the while maintaining the grounded structures that provided so much of the foundation of Kadavar itself. They would continue to save their departures for the ends of records afterward, and it has continued to suit them well.
But of course it has. Because Kadavar have always had a keen eye for how they’re perceived, and that has extended to all facets of their approach. There are those who view that cynically, like Kadavar are sitting around at a board meeting going over the quarter’s financials saying, “No good, time for another video,” or something like that, but while there’s no question they’ve had a strong sense of purpose since Kadavar was released, they’ve also had a growth in style and progression that’s led them to places the self-titled only hinted toward. Hearing “All Our Thoughts” and “Forgotten Past” and “Purple Sage” now, there’s so much naturalism at Kadavar‘s foundation that the album still holds I think among the decade’s best not just in its sound or performance, with its live feel, organic fuzz and groove and ultra-righteous bass tone, but in its very concept. Everything Kadavar does and has done has been on purpose. Even the accidents. Part of what made their first record such a standout was how sure they were of what they were doing at the time. There was no sense that they were getting their feet wet or feeling their way into their style. Listening to Kadavar‘s Kadavar was like unboxing some tech product with the battery already charged. All you had to do was take it out and put it on and you were set.
That’s still the case. Kadavar have gone on to become one of the most essential active European heavy bands, as their 2013 sophomore outing, 2013’s Abra Kadavar (review here), led to their signing to Nuclear Blast Records to wider distribution and a new level of reach in terms of touring. A pivotal moment followed in 2015’s Berlin (review here), their third album named for the city they call home, whereupon their sound took on a more modern, produced sheen that was a shift from the first two records. One would be naive to think that’s a coincidence of their signing to the new label, but they pulled off a difficult transition in sound thanks to the same undercurrent of songcraft that carried them through the debut and its follow-up. Touring all the while, they took on a moodier, more socially aware context with 2017’s Rough Times (review here), which was followed this year by the Live in Copenhagen companion LP. They’ve become an influence particularly in Europe, and as their craft has moved forward, they’ve never really lost the sense of structure that seemed so much to drive their beginnings. Kadavar knew it was playing to classics. I’m not sure it knew it would become one itself.
As always, I hope you enjoy.
—
It’s 5:24AM right now. Soon it’ll be 5:25. In about a minute or so. Ha.
Alarm went off at 3:30, as it will — I’ve been giving myself an extra half-hour and working during The Pecan’s morning nap — and he was up at 4AM. Hi from the Newark Airport flightpath. We’re in Jersey from now until about Jan. 20, and normally I’d have left his ass up there to fall back asleep on his own, but we have friends staying with us upstairs in the guest room across the hall. When it hit 15 minutes of yelling and it seemed like he wasn’t going to just lay back down and conk out, I went up there armed with fresh diaper and a bottle, changed him, fed him, and put him back down. He screamed bloody murder for about three minutes after I left the room, but has been out since, so even if he gets up at this point, I bought another hour. Again, I usually would leave him because I want him to learn and be used to settling himself down, but there are extenuating circumstances. “Additional factors,” as The Patient Mrs. and I like to say, usually about him.
Next week is New Year’s? That’s stupid. Whatever. Be safe. I’ll still be asleep by nine.
We did Xmas Eve at home and watched Die Hard, as we will, and then Xmas Proper in Connecticut with The Patient Mrs.’ family, then came down here the next day. I don’t even know what day that actually was. Wednesday, says the calendar. Fine. We got here and are mostly settled in at this point. I need Chemex filters something awful, but beyond that, it’s been good. Dinner with my family on the 26th, some hanging out with my oldest nephew, who does well with the baby, friends coming in yesterday. Good times. I like it here. I miss living in this area. So it goes.
With the New Year’s holiday on Tuesday, I’ll do the traditional thing of posting the results of the Year-End Poll. If you haven’t yet added your list of 20-or-however-many favorites of 2018, you should get on that.
What else? Merch still available at Dropout Merch. For now. I’m gonna nix some of those designs soon. I don’t want too much floating out there.
And while the next ‘The Obelisk Show’ on Gimme Radio was going to be Jan. 13, now it’ll be Jan 6. I got bumped up a week, which is nice. I still need to put together most of the playlist, but I know some of it will be highlights from the Quarterly Review, so there’s plenty to choose from there, as it was 100 records and all. Plus some other stuff I haven’t covered here yet.
Let’s do notes for next week. Haven’t done that in a while. Subject to change, blah blah, here goes:
Mon.: Arc of Ascent/Zone Six split review.
Tue.: Poll results.
Wed.: Begotten review; Medicina video.
Thu.: Volcano video premiere; maybe Thunderbird Divine review.
Fri.: Molior Superum track premiere.
Busy busy busy, as usual. That’s good though. The music industry slows down during this time, basically through the end of January, but I never seem to have any lack of stuff to cover, and I’m not really interested in slowing down, so fair enough.
Just about 6AM now. Definitely not regretting giving him that bottle. The Patient Mrs. came to bed around 1:30AM, which is insane as far as current best practices are concerned. I told her that when the baby got up at five I was going to bring him down and stick her with him. I haven’t decided if I actually will do that or not. Probably not. But he should be up soon and I need to get another post live before I grab him, so I’m gonna punch out.
I hope you have a great and safe weekend, and if you’re doing the New Year’s thing, I hope you’re indoors? I don’t know. I hope you drink because it’s fun and not because you feel like you need to. That’s what I hope.
Have fun, don’t get hurt, and thank you for reading. Forum, radio, merch.
[Click play above to watch the premiere of The Moth’s new video for ‘Empty Heart.’ Their album, Hysteria, is out today on This Charming Man Records.]
The Moth engage in an almost singular pursuit of scathing rawness with their third album, Hysteria. Issued like its predecessor, 2015’s And Then Rise (review here), it is a 10-track/36-minute collection that, even when it departs the death-infused thrust of songs like opener “Empty Heart” and the subsequent title-cut to flesh out its slower-rolling doomer impulses on side-ending pieces like “This Life” and the finale “Jupiter,” still retains more than an edge of the extremity at heart behind that pummel. Guitarist Freden Mohrdiek and bassist Cécile Ash share vocal duties, and the resulting approach is by no means amelodic, but even compared to the release before it, Hysteria finds the Hamburg outfit making a decided turn toward harsh sounds and harsher vibes; a brutality captured with a live-in-studio feel and punctuated by two drummers: the returning Tiffy and newcomer Christian “Curry” Korr.
The latter percussionist is a recent arrival, and even with a pair of drummers swinging away and the Sunlight Studios-esque tone Mohrdiek displays after the false start of “Hysteria,” the dominant position, hands down, belongs to the bass. Hysteria as a whole is eaten by low-end rumble, serving in some ways as a reminder of how mishandled bass has been over the decades in extreme music, all but cast out of death and black metal and classic thrash or otherwise relegated to root notes or following the guitar. Ash‘s low end is a significant force in the overarching weight of this material, and as that’s true amid the grunts and chants of “Slow Your Pace” as in the nodding and catchy highlight “Brachial” — also screaming and bludgeoning — just before. It becomes a defining element.
One gets the sense that, much like the overall push into nastier sonics itself, this is something done with the utmost purpose behind it. Hysteria is the third The Moth long-player behind And Then Rise and the preceding 2013 debut, They Fall, and while it doesn’t provide a next clause to that seeming sentence-in-progress between the first two titles, that very fact is telling of a will to try something new that is manifest throughout. There are still shades of High on Fire and heavy thrash extremists Mantar to be heard in the onslaught of “Blackness” or “Empty Heart,” but aside perhaps from bringing in the fourth band member, the change in presentation is the biggest shift from one release to the next, and at this point, The Moth have enough quality work under their collective belt to assume consciousness behind the decision rather than a happenstance of recording situation.
When it wants to, Hysteria meters out a vicious stomp, but to hear the cone-blowing brown-note low-frequency heft at the beginning of “Loose” is to understand how essential the bass is to this mission. Beneath the fluidity of vocal arrangements between Ash and Mohrdiek and a moment’s readiness to transition in pace between and within tracks like “Brachial” and the part-punk “Fail,” which is the shortest inclusion here at 2:27 and the lead-in for “Jupiter,” the longest at 5:15, and amid waves of riffs and drums that are no less at home in maximum propulsion than they are lumbering through “This Life” and the closer, the bass is what most ties the album together. There are times, in fact, at which it feels like there’s no escape from it, and while the material itself is structured into verses, choruses, bridges, ending sections, etc., that consumption lends an experimentalist sensibility to go with their root approach.
This only makes Hysteria a more exciting listen. It is a sonic curio, almost. Plenty of bands have indulged in having two drummers, from the Melvins to Kylesa and well beyond, but even as The Moth put themselves in these ranks, it’s the change in sound itself throughout Hysteria that seems most to convey their creative drive. While not necessarily a radical departure from where they were two years ago, it nonetheless demonstrates a basic willingness to manipulate their own tendencies, and whether The Moth take it as a cue and move forward in a similar direction from here, pushing into even more extreme fare while balancing that against their melodic underpinnings, or opt to try something else entirely their next time out, the clear statement that Hysteria makes is that such turns are well within the scope of their ability and dynamic.
Further, while the title of the record speaks to a (gendered) sense of the unhinged, it’s worth noting that front to back, Mohrdiek, Ash, Korr and Tiffy never actually seem to be out of control of the proceedings. There are certainly moments of blemish, but like leaving that false start in at the beginning of the title-track, the simple fact that The Moth make no attempt to cover these is telling further of the naturalism at heart in what they’re doing. Organic extremity? Free-range aural destruction? Whatever you might want to call it, Hysteria takes this balance of style and production and turns it into an aesthetic that belongs to The Moth more than anything they’ve done before. It is the result of a band willfully taking the lessons from the work they’ve done in the past and learning from them to craft something new. It just so happens that that something new is an absolute monster.
