Posted in Whathaveyou on March 15th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
To those imagining Maryland field rock trio Faith in Jane are heralding a quick follow-up to last year’s Axe to Oak (review here), it wouldn’t necessarily be out of character for the band, but that’s likely not what’s happening here. Instead, the newly posted digital single “Children of Fire” was recorded as part of the same session as that album, produced by Greg Diener (Pale Divine) and mixed/mastered by Noel Mueller at Tiny Castle. And like that record, it finds the three-piece led by guitarist/vocalist Dan Mize turning fuzz-grunge traditionalism into the foundation from which their jam-based sensibility takes flight.
No radical changes in approach or perspective — if you want that, dig into their Trippin’ After Supper series on Bandcamp — but the song stands well on its own just the same, and Faith in Jane elicit perpetual welcome with their organic tonality and unpredictable instrumental turns. Regulars at Maryland Doom Fest, where they’ll appear again this June, the band is also set to play Grim Reefer Fest in Baltimore this April. Last time I saw them was in 2019 (review here), and needless to say, “Children of Fire” does nothing to stop me from looking forward to doing so again at some point this year, in whatever context that might take place. Presumably I’ll figure that out ahead of time.
Enjoy the track:
FAITH IN JANE – Children of Fire
Our new single, Children of Fire, is here! It is available to download/stream on our bandcamp page (https://faithinjane.bandcamp.com/track/children-of-fire), and also on Spotify, Apple Music, iTunes, Amazon Music and Pandora!
Also, check out the lyric video, created by Caroline Winston.
This song was recorded during the Axe to Oak sessions at Diener Manor in July 2021. Engineered by Greg Diener, Mixed and Mastered by Noel Mueller in the Tiny Castle.
FAITH IN JANE: Dan Mize – guitar, vocals Brendan Winston – bass Alex Llewellyn – drums
Maryland trio Faith in Jane will release their eighth album, Axe to Oak, through Grimoire Records on Oct. 7. Preorders are up, and just to clarify, yes, I said eight records. That tally depends on how you count their 2012 debut, which they list as an EP, but there’s also that four-part Trippin’ After Supper jam series they put out in the second half of 2020, so count it all up how you will. Whatever your own final number, the 39 minutes of Axe to Oak are a standout in the catalog and inarguably the most cohesive work the three-piece have done yet, working with engineers Greg Diener (guitarist/vocalist of Pale Divine) and Noel Mueller — he of Tiny Castle Recording and head of Grimoire Records — to wrangle a vision-serving version of the loose-swinging heavy pastoralism of what has always felt and still feels uncontrolled in Faith in Jane‘s sound.
That balance is essential throughout Axe to Oak, and as side A wraps with “Enter Her Light” — premiering below — as led into by the Irish folk ballad “She Moved Through the Fair,” Faith in Jane‘s wistful swing and the throaty vocals of guitarist Dan Mize, the album feels very much like a post-pandemic return. Faith in Jane have never really toured, but they’ve learned from the sphere of Maryland’s underground even as they’ve taken that influence and crafted their own jammy heavy grunge from it. I could go on, about the record’s construction, about how undervalued the trio of Mize, bassist Brendan Winston and drummer Alex Llewellyn have been over the course of their decade together, especially in these last four or five years, and how Axe to Oak sees them figure out their place not only in their scene, but in the broader scope of heavy rock — more sunshine-on-open-rolling-field than prairie country or desert, etc.; it might be the sound of the Chesapeake Bay Watershed if Maryland’s long history of doom isn’t — with two vinyl sides of expressive breadth and a sense that they are now the band they’ve been working to be. I could. Really. But October is a ways away, and I guess spoilers?
Maybe Faith in Jane are the kind of band who work best with a producer — someone to help them shape the raw material they bring into the studio — and maybe that’s the difference between Axe to Oak and 2018’s Countryside (review here), 2020’s Mother to Earth or their sundry other prior works, but whatever it is, cuts like the nodder “Heavy Drinker,” the fuzzy bounce and march of “Axe to Oak” itself, the quick jamm-with-two-‘m’s “How Many Ships Sail in the Forest?” and the warm tonality of closer “The Seeker,” make it so the band have never sounded more ready to take the stage at Lollapalooza ’92. I’ve spent the last three paragraphs trying to look for the right word, and here it is: vibrant. Faith in Jane‘s songs come alive here, in terms of they-play-in-studio-like-on-stage energy — which is both a cliché and true — their duly organic communion with natural elements and in the flourish of the interplay between Mize, Winston and Llewellyn, and the material itself reaps the rewards of the years that have gone into its making.
If you ever get to see them live, do it. Even if not, as a fan of stuff-that-doesn’t-sound-like-everything-else, I think this is worth your time.
Album info from the PR wire follows. Please enjoy:
FAITH IN JANE: Maryland Psychedelic Rock Trio To Release Axe To Oak Album Through Grimoire Records In October
Thurmont, Maryland-based psychedelic rock trio FAITH IN JANE will release their new full-length album, Axe To Oak, through Grimoire Records in October. Alongside the record’s cover art, track listing, preorders, and more, is a premiere of the lead single, “Enter Her Light.”
An incredibly prolific band, Axe To Oak serves as FAITH IN JANE’s eighth studio album in their ten years as a band, the record delivering a uniquely ’90s grunge element in their psych rock vibes. Packing seven extensive tracks into a dense forty-minute excursion, Axe To Oak was engineered by Greg Diener in July 2021, mixed and mastered by Grimoire Records’ Noel Mueller at Tiny Castle in June 2022, and competed with artwork by Austyn Sullivan and layout by Mueller.
With the album’s first single, “Enter Her Light,” the band’s Dan Mize reveals, “This song is loosely based around the demon Lilith in Judaic mythology. We bridged it together with ‘She Moved Through The Fair,’ a traditional Irish ballad. The dark marriage between the two came about as a one-off idea for a show but it ended up sounding so natural and powerful, we had to record them together.”
Stand by for additional previews of the album to be issued over the weeks ahead.
Axe To Oak Track Listing: 1. Whiskey Mountain Breakdown 2. She Moved Through The Fair 3. Enter Her Light 4. Heavy Drinker 5. How Many Ships Sail In The Forest? 6. Axe To Oak 7. The Seeker
FAITH IN JANE will support the release of Axe To Oak with a run of East Coast tour dates which are currently being booked for October. In the meantime, the band has confirmed a local gig on August 26th to celebrate the new vinyl release of their prior LP, Mother To Earth. Watch for new tour dates to be issued shortly.
FAITH IN JANE Live: 8/26/2022 Olde Mother Brewing Co. – Frederick, MD w/ Bailjack, Strange Highways
FAITH IN JANE was formed in 2008 by Dan Mize (guitar/vocals/lyrics), Brendan Winston (bass), and Alex Llewellyn (drums), who remain as the current lineup.
FAITH IN JANE newest album Axe To Oak features some of the tightest songs they have recorded so far, the product of two years spent refining unrecorded material and writing brand new songs; so many, in fact, that several songs recorded during the sessions have been set aside for future release. Their songwriting is more focused than ever, placing stronger emphasis on the vocals and lyrics while continuing to develop their trademark heavy rock sound.
Menacing yet swinging riffs balance dread and boogie in the best Black Sabbath tradition; the rumbling bass groove that carries the songs has been enhanced by a fresh layer of fuzz; and bluesy, whiskey-soaked leads soar over everything like an eagle flying over their native Appalachians. The unexpected inclusion of the traditional Irish ballad “She Moved Through The Fair” shows yet another of their diverse musical influences. The juxtaposition of Mize’s delivery of its ancient love-and-death melody with the wash of shimmering guitar, bass and trembling cymbals is spine-chilling, and it flows seamlessly into the original “Enter Her Light.”
The whole package is enhanced by their best production work to date, courtesy of Greg Diener (Pale Divine, Beelzefuzz) and Noel Mueller (Grimoire Records). With the release of Axe To Oak, FAITH IN JANE plans to continue playing shows in support of the album- they’ve made short runs through the southeast and mid-Atlantic states, as well as journeys to New York and New England, and are looking to spread their music and message to all lovers of rock and metal.
FAITH IN JANE: Dan Mize – guitar, vocals Brendan Winston – bass Alex Llewellyn – drums
Posted in Reviews on December 29th, 2020 by JJ Koczan
Just to reiterate, I decided to do this Quarterly Review before making my year-end list because I felt like there was stuff I needed to hear that I hadn’t dug into. Here we are, 70 records later, and that’s still the case. My desktop is somewhat less cluttered than it was when I started out, but there’s still plenty of other albums, EPs, and so on I could and probably should be covering. It’s frustrating and encouraging at the same time, I guess. Fruscouraging. Life’s too short for the international boom of underground creativity.
Anyway, thanks for taking this ride if you did. It is always appreciated.
Quarterly Review #61-70:
Across Tundras, The Last Days of a Silver Rush
Issued as part of a late-2020 splurge by Tanner Olson and Across Tundras that has also resulted in the full-length LOESS – LÖSS (review here), as well as three lost-tracks compilations called Selected Sonic Rituals, an experimental Western drone record issued under the banner of Edward Outlander, and an EP and three singles (two collaborative) from Olson solo, The Last Days of a Silver Rush offers subdued complement to the more band-oriented LOESS – LÖSS, with an acoustic-folk foundation much more reminiscent of Olson‘s solo outings than the twang-infused progressive heavy rock for which Across Tundras are known. Indeed, though arrangements are fleshed out with samples and the electrified spaciousness of “The Prodigal Children of the God of War,” the only other contributor here is Ben Schriever on vocals and there are no drums to be found tying down the sweet strums and far-off melodies present. Could well be Olson bridging the gap between one modus (the band) and another (solo), and if so, fine. One way or the other it’s a strong batch of songs in the drifting western aesthetic he’s established. There’s nothing to say the next record will be the same or will be different. That’s why it’s fun.
What could possibly be left to say about the brilliance of Trondheim, Norway’s Motorpsycho? One only wishes that The All is One could be blasted into place on a pressed gold vinyl so that any aliens who might encounter it could know that humanity isn’t just all cruelty, plagues and indifference. The prolific heavy prog kingpins’ latest is 84 willfully-unmanageable minutes of graceful and gracious, hyperbole-ready sprawl, tapping into dynamic changes and arrangement depth that is both classic in character and still decidedly forward-thinking. An early rocker “The Same Old Rock (One Must Imagine Sisyphus Happy)” and the shuffling “The Magpie” give way after the opener to the quiet “Delusion (The Reign of Humbug)” and the multi-stage “N.O.X.,” which unfolds in five parts, could easily have been an album on its own, and caps with a frenetic mania that is only off-putting because of how controlled it ultimately is. Then they throw in a couple experimental pieces after that between the nine-minute “Dreams of Fancy” and the mellow-vibing “Like Chrome.” Someday archaeologists will dig up the fossils of this civilization and wonder what gods this sect worshipped. Do they have three more records out yet? Probably.
From out of the weirdo hotbed that is Tampere, Finland, Dark Buddha Rising reemerge from the swirling ether with new lessons in black magique for anyone brave enough to be schooled. Mathreyata follows 2018’s II EP but is the band’s first full-length since 2015’s Inversum (review here), and from the initial cosmically expansive lurch of “Sunyaga” through the synth-laced atmosludge roll of “Nagathma” and the seven-minute build-to-abrasion that is “Uni” and the guess-what-now-that-abrasion-pays-off beginning of 15-minute closer “Mahatgata III,” which, yes, hits into some New Wavy guitar just before exploding just after nine minutes in, the band make a ritual pyre of expectation, genre and what one would commonly think of as psychedelia. Some acts are just on their own level, and while Dark Buddha Rising will always be too extreme for some and not everyone’s going to get it, their growing cult can only continue to be enthralled by what they accomplish here.
Together, brothers Yotam and Itamar Rubinger — guitar/vocals and drums, respectively — comprise London’s Vine Weevil. Issued early in 2020 preceded by a video for “You are the Ocean” (posted here), Sun in Your Eyes is the second album from the brothers, who are also both former members of Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, and in the watery title-track and the Beatles-circa-Revolver bounce of “Loose Canon” they bask in a folkish ’60s-style psychedelia, mellotron melodies adding to the classic atmosphere tipped with just an edge of Ween-style weirdness — it’s never so druggy, but that undercurrent is there. “You are the Ocean” hints toward heavy garage, but the acoustic/electric sentimentality of “My Friend” and the patient piano unfurling of “Lord of Flies” ahead of organ-led closer “The Shadow” are more indicative overall of the scope of this engaging, heartfelt and wistful 31-minute offering.
Since before their coronation — when they were just Chiefs — the greatest strength of San Diego heavy rockers King Chiefs has been their songwriting. They’ve never been an especially flashy band on a technical level, never over the top either direction tempo-wise, but they can write a melody, craft a feel in a three-or-four-minute track and tell any story they want to tell in that time in a way that leaves the listener satisfied. This is not a skill to be overlooked, and though on Flying into Void, the follow-up to 2018’s Blue Sonnet (review here), the album is almost entirely done by guitarist/vocalist Paul Valle — Jeff Podeszwik adds guitar as well — the energy, spirit and craft that typify King Chiefs‘ work is maintained. Quality heavy built on a foundation of grunge — a ’90s influence acknowledged in the cover art; dig that Super Nintendo — it comes with a full-band feel despite its mostly-solo nature and delivers 37 minutes of absolutely-pretense-free, clearheaded rock and roll. If you can’t get down with that, one seriously doubts that’ll stop King Chiefs anyhow.
How doomed is Battle Hag‘s doom? Well, on Celestial Tyrant, it’s pretty damn doomed. The second long-player from the Sacramento, California-based outfit is comprised of three worth-calling-slabs slabs that run in succession from shortest to longest: “Eleusinian Sacrament” (12:47), “Talus” (13:12) and “Red Giant” (19:15), running a total of 45 minutes. Why yes, it is massive as fuck. The opener brings the first round of lurch and is just a little too filthy to be pure death-doom, despite the rainstorm cued in at its last minute, but “Talus” picks up gradually, hard-hit toms signaling the plod to come with the arrival of the central riff, which shows up sooner or later. Does the timestamp matter as much as the feeling of having your chest caved in? “Talus” hits into a speedier progression as it crosses over its second half, but it’s still raw vocally, and the plod returns at the end — gloriously. At 19 minutes “Red Giant” is also the most dynamic of the three cuts, dropping after its up-front lumber and faster solo section into a quiet stretch before spending the remaining eight minutes devoted to grueling extremity and devolution to low static noise. There’s just enough sludge here to position Battle Hag in a niche between microgenres, and the individuality that results is as weighted as their tones.
It might take a few listens to sink in — and hey, it might not — but Parisian trio Hyde are up to some deceptively intricate shenanigans on their self-titled debut LP. On their face, a riff like that of second cut “Black Phillip” or “DWAGB” — on which The Big Lebowski is sampled — aren’t revolutionary, but the atmospheric purpose to which they’re being put is more brooding than the band give themselves credit for. They call it desert-influenced, but languid tempos, gruff vocals coated in echo, spacious guitar and rhythmic largesse all come together to give Hyde‘s Hyde a darker, brooding atmosphere than it might at first seem, and even opener “The Victim” and the penultimate “The Barber of Pitlochry” — the only two songs under five minutes long — manage to dig into this vibe. Of course, the 11-minute closing eponymous track — that is, “Hyde,” by Hyde, on Hyde — goes even further, finding its way into psychedelic meandering after its chugging launch rings out, only to roll heavy in its last push, ending with start-stop thud and a long fade. Worth the effort of engaging on its own level, Hyde‘s first full-length heralds even further growth going forward.
Maryland’s best kept secret in heavy rock remain wildly undervalued, but that doesn’t stop power trio Faith in Jane from exploring cosmic existentialism on Mother to Earth even as they likewise broaden the expanse of their grooving, bluesy dynamic. “The Circle” opens in passionate form followed by the crawling launch of “Gone are the Days,” and whether it’s the tempest brought to bear in the instrumental “Weight of a Dream” or the light-stepping jam in the middle of the title-track, the soaring solo from guitarist/vocalist Dan Mize on the subsequent “Nature’s Daughter” or the creeper-chug on “Universal Mind,” the cello guest spot on “Lonesome” and the homage to a party unknown (Chesapeake heavy has had its losses these last few years, to say nothing of anyone’s personal experience) in closer “We’ll Be Missing You,” Mize, bassist Brendan Winston and drummer Alex Llewellyn put on a clinic in vibrancy and showcase the classic-style chemistry that’s made them a treasure of their scene. I still say they need to tour for three years and not look back, but if it’s 56 minutes of new material instead, things could be far worse.
Newcomer four-piece American Dharma want nothing for ambition on their 70-minute debut, Cosmosis, bringing together progressive heavy rock, punk and doom, grunge and hardcore punk, but the Waynesboro, Pennsylvania, outfit are somewhat held back by a rawness of production pulling back from the spaces the songs might otherwise create. A bona fide preach at the outset of “Damaged Coda” is a break early on, but the guitars and bass want low end throughout much of the 14-song proceedings, and the vocals cut through with no problem but are mostly dry even when layered or show the presence of a guest, as on closer “You.” Actually, if you told me the whole thing was recorded live and intended as a live album, I’d believe it, but for a unit who do so well in pulling together elements of different styles in their songwriting and appear to have so much to say, their proggier leanings get lost when they might otherwise be highlighted. Now, it’s a self-released debut coming out during a global pandemic, so there’s context worth remembering, but for as much reach as American Dharma show in their songs, their presentation needs to move into alignment with that.
Call it a burner, call it a corker, call it whatever you want, I seriously doubt Lima, Peru’s Hypernaut are sticking around to find out how you tag their debut album, Ozymandias. The nine-song/38-minute release pulls from punk with some of its forward-thrusting verses like “(This Is Where I) Draw the Line” or “Cynicism is Self-Harm,” but there’s metal there and in the closing title-cut as well that remains part of the atmosphere no matter how brash it might otherwise get. Spacey melodies, Sabbathian roll on “Multiverse… Battleworld” (“Hole in the Sky” walks by and waves), and a nigh-on-Devo quirk in the rhythm of “Atomic Breath” all bring to mind Iowan outliers Bloodcow, but that’s more likely sonic coincidence than direct influence, and one way or the other, Hypernaut‘s “Ozymandias” sets up a multifaceted push all through its span to its maddening, hypnotic finish, but the real danger of the thing is what this band might do if they continue on this trajectory for a few more records.
Posted in Reviews on March 21st, 2019 by JJ Koczan
Day four of the six-dayer. Head’s a little reeling, but I’m not sure any more so than, say, last week at this time. I’d be more specific about that, but oddly enough, I don’t hook my brain up to medical scanners while doing reviews. Seems like an oversight on my part, now that I think about it. Ten years later and still learning something new! How about that internet, huh?
Since I don’t think I’ve said it in a couple days, I’ll remind you that the hope here is you find something you dig. There’s a lot of cool stuff in this batch, so that should at least make skimming through it fun if you go that route. Either way, thanks for reading if you do.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
Electric Octopus, Smile
It’s been about two months since Electric Octopus posted Smile, so they’re about due for their next release. So, quick! Before this 82-minute collection of insta-chill jams is out of date, there’s still time to consider it their latest offering. Working as the four-piece of Tyrell Black and Dale Hughes — both of whom share bass and guitar duties — drummer Guy Hetherington and synthesist Stevie Lennox, the Belfast improv jammers rightfully commence with the 25-minute longest track (immediate points) “Abberation” (sic), which evolves and devolves along its course and winds up turning from a percussive jam to a guitar-led build up that still stays gloriously mellow even as it works its way out. You can almost hear the band moving from instrument to instrument, and that’s the point. The much shorter “Spiral,” “Dinner at Sea, for One” and closer “Mouseangelo” bring in a welcome bit of funk, “Moth Dust” explores minimalist reaches of guitar and ambient drumming, and “Hyperloop” digs into fuzz-soaked swirl before cleaning up its act in the last couple minutes. These cats j-a-m. May they do so into perpetuity.
Onto the best-albums-of-2019 list go San Marcos, Texas, trio Crypt Trip, who, sonically speaking, are way more Beto O’Rourke than Ted Cruz. The three-piece have way-way-upped the production value and general breadth from their 2018 Heavy Psych Sounds debut, Rootstock, and the clarity of purpose more than suits them as they touch on ’70s country jams and hard boogie and find a new melodic vocal confidence that speaks to guitarist Ryan Lee as a burgeoning frontman as well as the shredder panning channels in “To Be Whole.” Fortunately, he’s backed by bassist Sam Bryant and drummer Cameron Martin in the endeavor, and as ever, it’s the rhythm section that gives the “power trio” its power. Centerpiece “Free Rain” is a highlight, but so is the pedal steel of intro “Forward” and the later “Pastures” that precedes six-minute closer “Gotta Get Away,” which makes its transport by means of a hypnotic drum solo from Martin. Mark it a win and go to the show. That’s all you can do. Haze County is a blueprint for America’s answer to Europe’s classic heavy rock movement.
A bit of Tull as Love Gang‘s flute-inclusive opener “Can’t Seem to Win” skirts the line of the proggier end of ’70s worship. The Denver outfit and Dallas’ Smokey Mirror both present three tracks on Glory or Death Records‘ Split Double EP, and Love Gang back the leadoff with “Break Free” and “Lonely Man,” reveling in wall-o’-fuzz chicanery and organ-laced push between them, making their already unpredictable style less predictable, while Smokey Mirror kick off side B in particularly righteous fashion via the nine-minute “Sword and Scepter,” which steps forth to take ultra-Sabbathian ownership of the release even as the filthy tone of “Sucio y Desprolijo” and the loose-swinging Amplified Heat-style megashuffle of “A Thousand Days in the Desert” follow. Two bands in the process of finding their sound coming together to serve notice of ass-kickery present and future. If you can complain about that, you’re wrong.
Very much a solid first album, Heavy Feather‘s 11-song Débris & Rubble lands at a run via The Sign Records and finds the Stockholm-based classic heavy blues rockers comporting with modern Euro retroism in grand fashion. At 41 minutes, it’s a little long for a classic-style LP if one measures by the eight-track/38-minute standard, but the four-piece fill that time with a varied take that basks in sing-along-ready hooks like those of post-intro opener “Where Did We Go,” the Rolling Stones-style strutter “Waited All My Life,” and the later “I Spend My Money Wrong,” which features not the first interplay of harmonica and lead guitar amid its insistent groove. Elsewhere, more mellow cuts like “Dreams,” or the slide-infused “Tell Me Your Tale” and the closing duo of the Zeppelinian “Please Don’t Leave” and the melancholy finisher “Whispering Things” assure Débris & Rubble never stays in one place too long, though one could say the same of the softshoe-ready boogie in “Hey There Mama” as well. On the one hand, they’re figuring it out. On the other, they’re figuring it out.
Five full-lengths deep into a tenure spanning a decade thus far, Faith in Jane have officially entered the running to be one of the best kept secrets of Maryland heavy. Their late-2018 live-recorded studio offering, Countryside, clocks in at just under an hour of organic tonality and performance, bringing a sharp presentation to the chemistry that’s taken hold among the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Dan Mize, bassist Brendan Winston and drummer Alex Llewellyn, with Mize taking extended solos on the Wino model throughout early cuts “All is All” and “Mountain Lore” while the trio adds Appalachian grunge push to the Chesapeake’s flowing groove while building “Blues for Owsley” from acoustic strum to scorching cacophonous wash and rolling out the 9:48 “Hippy Nihilism” like the masters of the form they’re becoming. It’s not a minor undertaking in terms of runtime, but for those in on what these cats have been up to all the while, hard to imagine Countryside is seen as anything other than hospitable.
Lafayette, Indiana’s The Mound Builders last year offered a redux of their 2014 album, Wabash War Machine (review here), but that was their last proper full-length. Their self-titled arrives as eight bruiser slabs of weighted sludge/groove metal, launching with its longest track (immediate points) in the 7:30 “Torchbearer,” before shifting into the outright screams-forward pummel of “Hair of the Dogma” and the likewise dry-throated “Separated from Youth.” By the time they get to the hardcore-punk-via-sludge of “Acid Slugs,” it’s not a little heavy. It’s a lot heavy. And it stays that way through the thrashing “Star City Massacre” and “Regolith,” hitting the brakes on “Broken Pillars” only to slam headfirst into closer “Vanished Frontier.” Five years later and they’re still way pissed off. So be it. The four-formerly-five-piece were never really all that gone, but they still seem to have packed an extended absence’s worth of aggro into their self-titled LP.
It’s a fluid balance between heavy rock and progressive metal Terras Paralelas make in the six inclusions on their debut full-length, Entre Dois Mundos. The Brazilian instrumentalist trio keep a foundation of metallic kickdrumming beneath “Do Abismo ao Triunfo,” and even the chugging in “Espirais e Labirintos” calls to mind some background in harder-hitting fare, but it’s set against a will toward semi-psychedelic exploration, making the giving the album a sense of refusing to play exclusively to one impulse. This proves a strength in the lengthier pieces that follow “Infinito Cósmico” and “Do Abismo ao Triunfo” at the outset, and as Terras Paralelas move from the mellower “Bom Presságio” and “Espirais e Labirintos” into the more spaciously post-rocking “Nossa Jornada Interior” and the nine-minute-plus prog-out title-track that closes by summarizing as much as pushing further outward, one is left wondering why such distinctions might matter in the first place. Kudos to the band for making them not.
The Black Heart Death Cult, The Black Heart Death Cult
Though one wouldn’t accuse The Black Heart Death Cult of being the first cumbersomely-named psych-rocking band in the current wave originating in Melbourne, Australia, their self-titled debut is nonetheless a gorgeous shimmer of classic psychedelia, given tonal presence through guitar and bass, but conjuring an ethereal sensibility through the keys and far-back vocals like “She’s a Believer,” tapping alt-reality 1967 vibes there while fostering what I hear is called neo-psych but is really just kinda psych throughout the nodding meander of “Black Rainbow,” giving even the more weighted fuzz of “Aloha From Hell” and the distortion flood of “Davidian Dream Beam” a happier context. They cap with the marshmallowtron hallucinations of “We Love You” and thereby depart even the ground stepped on earlier in the sitar-laced “The Magic Lamp,” finding and losing and losing themselves in the drifting ether probably not to return until, you know, the next record. When it shows up, it will be greeted as a liberator.
I’m pretty sure the Sami who plays drums in Orbiter is the same dude playing bass in Roadog, but I could easily be wrong about that. Either way, the two Finnish cohort units make a fitting complement to each other on their two-songer 7″ single, which presents Orbiter‘s six-minute “Anthropocene” with the hard-driving title-track of Roadog‘s 2018 full-length, Reinventing the Wheels. The two tracks have a certain amount in common, mostly in the use of fuzz and some underlying desert influence, but it’s what they do with that that makes all the difference between them. Orbiter‘s track is spacier and echoing, where “Reinventing the Wheels” lands more straightforward in its three minutes, its motoring riff filled out by some effects but essentially manifest in dead-ahead push and lyrics about a motorcycle. They don’t reinvent the wheel, as it happens, and neither do Orbiter, but neither seems to want to do so either, and both bands are very clearly having a blast, so I’m not inclined to argue. Good fun and not a second of pretense on either side.
Space is the place where you’ll find Boston improvisationalists Hhoogg, who extend their fun penchant for adding double letters to the leadoff “Ccoossmmooss” of their exclamatory second self-released full-length, Earthling, Go Home!, which brings forth seven tracks in a vinyl-ready 37 minutes and uses that opener also as its longest track (immediate points) to set a molten tone to the proceedings while subsequent vibes in “Rustic Alien Living” and the later, bass-heavy “Recalled to the Pyramids” range from the Hendrixian to the funkadelicness he helped inspire. With a centerpiece in “Star Wizard, Headless and Awake,” a relatively straightforward three-minute noodler, the four-piece choose to cap with “Infinitely Gone,” which feels as much like a statement of purpose and an aesthetic designation as a descriptor for what’s contained within. In truth, it’s a little under six minutes gone, but jams like these tend to beg for repeat listens anyway. There’s some growing to do, but the melding of their essential chemistry is in progress, and that’s what matters most. The rest is exploration, and they sound well up for it.
