Here begins day two of 10. I don’t know at what point it occurred to me to load up the Quarterly Review with killer stuff to make it, you know, more pleasant than having it only be records I feel like I should be writing about, but I’m intensely glad I did.

Seems like a no brainer, right? But the internet is dumb, and it’s so easy to get caught up in what you see on social media, who’s hyping what, and the whole thing is driven by this sad, cloying FOMO that I despise even as I participate. If you’re ever in a situation to let go of something so toxic, even just a little bit and even just in your own head — which is where it all exists anyhow — do it. And if you take nothing else from this 100-album Quarterly Review besides that advice, it won’t be a loss.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Magnatar, Crushed

Can’t say they don’t deliver. The eight-song/38-minute Crushed is the debut long-player from Manchester, New Hampshire’s Magnatar, and it plays to the more directly aggressive side of post-metallic riffing. There are telltale quiet stretches, to be sure, but the extremity of shouts and screams in opener “Dead Swan” and in the second half of “Crown of Thorns” — the way that intensity becomes part of the build of the song as a whole — is well beyond the usual throaty fare. There’s atmosphere to balance, but even the 1:26 “Old” bends into harsh static, and the subsequent “Personal Contamination Through Mutual Unconsciousness” bounces djent and post-hardcore impulses off each other before ending up in a mega-doom slog, the lyric “Eat shit and die” a particular standout. So it goes into “Dragged Across the Surface of the Sun,” which is more even, but on the side of being pissed off, and “Loving You Was Killing Me” with its vastly more open spaces, clean vocals and stretch of near-silence before a more intense solo-topped finish. That leaves “Crushed” and “Event Horizon” to round out, and the latter is so heavy it’s barely music and that’s obviously the idea.

Magnatar on Facebook

Seeing Red Records on Bandcamp

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Wild Rocket, Formless Abyss

Three longform cosmic rock excursions comprise Wild Rocket‘s Formless Abyss — “Formless Abyss” (10:40), “Interplanetary Vibrations” (11:36) and “Future Echoes” (19:41) — so lock in your harness and be ready for when the g-forces hit. If the Dubliners have tarried in following-up 2017’s Disassociation Mechanics (review here), one can only cite the temporal screwing around taking place in “Interplanetary Vibrations” as a cause — it would be easy to lose a year or two in its depths — never mind “Future Echoes,” which meets the background-radiation drone of the two inclusions prior with a ritualized heft and slow-unfurling wash of distortion that is like a clarion to Sagan-headed weirdos. A dark-matter nebula. You think you’re freaked out now? Wild Rocket speak their own language of sound, in their own time, and Formless Abyss — while not entirely without structure — has breadth enough to make even the sunshine a distant memory.

Wild Rocket on Facebook

Riot Season Records website

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Trace Amount, Anti Body Language

An awaited debut full-length from Brooklyn multimedia artist/producer Brandon Gallagher, Trace Amount‘s Anti Body Language sees release through Greg Puciato‘s Federal Prisoner imprint and collects a solid 35 minutes of noise-laced harsh industrial worldbreaking. Decay anthems. A methodical assault begins with “Anxious Awakenings” and moving through “Anti Body Language” and “Eventually it Will Kill Us All,” the feeling of Gallagher acknowledging the era in which the record arrives is palpable, but more palpable are the weighted beats, the guttural shouts and layers of disaffected moans. “Digitized Exile” plays out like the ugliest outtake from Pretty Hate Machine — a compliment — and after the suitably tense “No Reality,” the six-minute “Tone and Tenor” — with a guest appearance from Kanga — offers a fuller take on drone and industrial metal, filling some of the spaces purposefully left open elsewhere. That leaves the penultimate “Pixelated Premonitions” as the ultimate blowout and “Suspect” (with a guest spot from Statiqbloom; a longtime fixture of NY industrialism) to noise-wash it all away, like city acid rain melting the pavement. New York always smells like piss in summer.

Trace Amount on Instagram

Federal Prisoner store

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Lammping, Desert on the Keel

This band just keeps getting better, and yes, I mean that. Toronto’s Lammping begin an informal, casual-style series of singles with “Desert on the Keel,” the sub-four-minutes of which are dedicated to a surprisingly peaceful kind of heavy psychedelia. Multiple songwriters at work? Yes. Rhythm guitarist Matt Aldred comes to the fore here with vocals mellow to suit the languid style of the guitar, which with Jay Anderson‘s drums still giving a push beneath reminds of Quest for Fire‘s more active moments, but would still fit alongside the tidy hooks with which Lammping populate their records. Mikhail Galkin, principal songwriter for the band, donates a delightfully gonna-make-some-noise-here organ solo in the post-midsection jam before “Desert on the Keel” turns righteously back to the verse, Colm Hinds‘ bass McCartneying the bop for good measure, and in a package so welcome it can only be called a gift, Lammping demonstrate multiple new avenues of growth for their craft and project. I told you. They keep getting better. For more, dig into 2022’s Stars We Lost EP (review here). You won’t regret it.

Lammping on Instagram

Lammping on Bandcamp

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Limousine Beach, Limousine Beach

Immediate three-part harmonies in the chorus of opener “Stealin’ Wine” set the tone for Limousine Beach‘s self-titled debut, as the new band fronted by guitarist/vocalist David Wheeler (OutsideInside, Carousel) and bringing together a five-piece with members of Fist Fight in the Parking Lot, Cruces and others melds ’70s-derived sounds with a modern production sheen, so that the Thin Lizzy-style twin leads of “Airboat” hit with suitable brightness and the arena-ready vibe in “Willodene” sets up the proto-metal of “Black Market Buss Pass” and the should-be-a-single-if-it-wasn’t “Hear You Calling.” Swagger is a staple of Wheeler‘s work, and though the longest song on Limousine Beach is still under four minutes, there’s plenty of room in tracks like “What if I’m Lying,” the AC/DC-esque “Evan Got a Job” and the sprint “Movin’ On” (premiered here) for such things, and the self-awareness in “We’re All Gonna Get Signed” adds to the charm. Closing out the 13 songs and 31 minutes, “Night is Falling” is dizzying, and leads to “Doo Doo,” the tight-twisting “Tiny Hunter” and the feedback and quick finish of “Outro,” which is nonetheless longer than the song before it. Go figure. Go rock. One of 2022’s best debut albums. Good luck keeping up.

Limousine Beach on Facebook

Tee Pee Records website

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40 Watt Sun, Perfect Light

Perfect Light is the closest Patrick Walker (also Warning) has yet come to a solo album with 40 Watt Sun, and any way one approaches it, is a marked departure from 2016’s Wider Than the Sky (review here, sharing a continued penchant for extended tracks but transposing the emotional weight that typifies Walker‘s songwriting and vocals onto pieces led by acoustic guitar and piano. Emma Ruth Rundle sits in on opener “Reveal,” which is one of the few drumless inclusions on the 67-minute outing, but primarily the record is a showcase for Walker‘s voice and fluid, ultra-subdued and mostly-unplugged guitar notes, which float across “Behind My Eyes” and the dare-some-distortion “Raise Me Up” later on, shades of the doom that was residing in the resolution that is, the latter unflinching in its longing purpose. Not a minor undertaking either on paper or in the listening experience, it is the boldest declaration of intent and progression in Walker’s storied career to-date, leaving heavy genre tropes behind in favor of something that seems even more individual.

40 Watt Sun on Facebook

Cappio Records website

Svart Records website

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Decasia, An Endless Feast for Hyenas

Snagged by Heavy Psych Sounds in the early going of 2022, French rockers Decasia debut on the label with An Endless Feast for Hyenas, a 10-track follow-up to 2017’s The Lord is Gone EP (review here), making the most of the occasion of their first full-length to portray inventive vocal arrangements coinciding with classic-sounding fuzz in “Hrosshvelli’s Ode” and the spacier “Cloud Sultan” — think vocalized Earthless — the easy-rolling viber “Skeleton Void” and “Laniakea Falls.” “Ilion” holds up some scorch at the beginning, “Hyenas at the Gates” goes ambient at the end, and interludes “Altostratus” and “Soft Was the Night” assure a moment to breathe without loss of momentum, holding up proof of a thoughtful construction even as Decasia demonstrate a growth underway and a sonic persona long in development that holds no shortage of potential for continued progress. By no means is An Endless Feast for Hyenas the highest-profile release from this label this year, but think of it as an investment in things to come as well as delivery for right now.

Decasia on Facebook

Heavy Psych Sounds on Bandcamp

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Giant Mammoth, Holy Sounds

The abiding shove of “Circle” and the more swinging “Abracadabra” begin Giant Mammoth‘s second full-length, Holy Sounds, with a style that wonders what if Lowrider and Valley of the Sun got together in a spirit of mutual celebration and densely-packed fuzz. Longer pieces “The Colour is Blue” and “Burning Man” and the lightly-proggier finale “Teisko” space out more, and the two-minute “Dust” is abidingly mellow, but wherever the Tampere, Finland, three-piece go, they remain in part defined by the heft of “Abracadabra” and the opener before it, with “Unholy” serving as an anchor for side A after “Burning Man” and “Wasteland” bringing a careening return to earth between “The Colour is Blue” and the close-out in “Teisko.” Like the prior-noted influences, Giant Mammoth are a stronger act for the dynamics of their material and the manner in which the songs interact with each other as the eight-track/38-minute LP plays out across its two sides, the second able to be more expansive for the groundwork laid in the first. They’re young-ish and they sound it (that’s not a slag), and the transition from duo to three-piece made between their first record and this one suits them and bodes well in its fuller tonality.

Giant Mammoth on Facebook

Giant Mammoth on Bandcamp

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Pyre Fyre, Rinky Dink City / Slow Cookin’

New Jersey trio Pyre Fyre may or may not be paying homage to their hometown of Bayonne with “Rinky Dink City,” but their punk-born fuzzy sludge rock reminds of none so much as New Orleans’ Suplecs circa 2000’s Wrestlin’ With My Ladyfriend, both the title-tracks dug into raw lower- and high-end buzztone shenanigans, big on groove and completely void of pretense. Able to have fun and still offer some substance behind the chicanery. I don’t know if you’d call it party rock — does anyone party on the East Coast or are we too sad because the weather sucks? probably, I’m just not invited — but if you were having a hangout and Pyre Fyre showed up with “Slow Cookin’,” for sure you’d let them have the two and a half minutes it takes them (less actually) to get their point across. In terms of style and songwriting, production and performance, this is a band that ask next to nothing of the listener in terms of investment are able to effect a mood in the positive without being either cloyingly poppish or leaving a saccharine aftertaste. I guess this is how the Garden State gets high. Fucking a.

Pyre Fyre on Instagram

Pyre Fyre on Bandcamp

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Kamru, Kosmic Attunement to the Malevolent Rites of the Universe

Issued on April 20, the cumbersomely-titled Kosmic Attunement to the Malevolent Rites of the Universe is the debut outing from Denver-based two-piece Kamru, comprised of Jason Kleim and Ashwin Prasad. With six songs each hovering on either side of seven minutes long, the duo tap into a classic stoner-doom feel, and one could point to this or that riff and say The Sword or liken their tone worship and makeup to Telekinetic Yeti, but that’s missing the point. The point is in the atmosphere that is conjured by “Penumbral Litany” and the familiar proto-metallurgy of the subsequent “Hexxer,” prominent vocals echoing with a sense of command rare for a first offering of any kind, let alone a full-length. In the more willfully grueling “Cenotaph” there’s doomly reach, and as “Winter Rites” marches the album to its inevitable end — one imagines blood splattered on a fresh Rocky Mountain snowfall — the band’s take on established parameters of aesthetic sounds like it’s trying to do precisely what it wants. I’m saying watch out for it to get picked up for a vinyl release by some label or other if that hasn’t happened yet.

Kamru on Facebook

Kamru on Bandcamp

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06.20.22 – 5:33AM – Mon. – Airport Sheraton, Toronto, ON, CAN

Let me spoil the punchline early: It was all worth it.

After a relaxed breakfast of peppery eggs and cheese at the Fünf10 Hotel in Netphen, where I stayed for the festival, a few emotional-for-me-at-least goodbyes and a quick gas-up, I was on the way back to Frankfurt Airport. Driving the van was the man himself, Alexander Fuchs, who coordinates various ends of Rock Freaks Records and does the YouTube channel as well as being in charge of coordinating logistics for pickups, dropoffs, comings and goings for Freak Valley — there is no substitute for competence, and he’s got that in spades — and I was traveling with Chris, Marty and Dave from Slomatics, which was only a joy. It was a relaxed trip, dropped Severin Sandvik from Kosmodome at the train station in Siegen, then no real traffic to speak of on a sunny Sunday morning.

Got there, hopped out, went in, found Air Canada, checked in, dedided to pull the bag of vinyl out of my luggage to get it under the maximum limit where they charge you more instead of my latptop, security, stumbled around looking for and failing to find the Lego store, and so on. Went to the gate, Slomatics dudes were nearby, so sat, had a coffee and a few more laughs, and then they left and I got some writing done for today (not this; I didn’t think I was going to post again about the travel, but alas). Gate change, oh isn’t that cute, so galumphed to the new gate right next door. Listened to Barr’s Skogsbo is the Place — a longtime travel companion; someday I’ll go to Skogsbo — and waited.

The flight was Frankfurt FRA to Toronto YYZ (hey you like Rush?). Original plan was direct, same as the way from Newark EWR to Germany going over, but United canceled that flight and put me instead on one with the Toronto connection. I’d have 90 minutes at the airport in Canada, maybe long enough to buy a fridge magnet, before another two-hour trip home. I went from a window to a middle seat — which, being a gentleman of some physical proportion, is always a bummer — and couldn’t change it. But at least I’d be home when it was done.

So. They loaded us onto the airplane and we sat for 90 minutes before taking off. The pilot said there was some delay putting in fuel or some such. 90 minutes on the plane before even moving. My connection? Still had a chance, but it would be dash-through-the-airport tight, or maybe get on one of those fun-looking cart trains that always beep at you when you walk in front of them. Anyway, it was a great weekend, I’d figure it out.

I bought the in-flight internet, which was $20 for a connection not good enough to stream YouTube. The pandemic made flying worse. It’s like a covered wagon in the sky. Everybody’s mad and sad and disgruntled and uncomfortable and ripped off, breathing dirty air through their masks. Rickety-ass mode of transportation. Two drunk ladies got kicked off the plane while we were sitting. Two dudes on either side of me, my head down, that airplane film of sweat and recycled air that gets on you when you fly. Just a mess.

Let’s say it was a far cry from the vibe at Freak Valley this weekend. I was never a huge fan of commercial air travel, which is putting it mildly, and I think it’s immoral to make people pay money to see the world let alone to reap unheard of profits while doing things like charging $20 for dogshit internet, but we only get one planet, one life, and even if the revolution comes, I’m feeling these days like it’s going to be the wrong one, so okay. At least I could message The Patient Mrs. to check in, keep her apprised of my progress, complain about the delay. Generally brighten her evening as only my grumpy ass can.

Buying that internet turned out to be the right call. It allowed me to see that my second flight, which I stood a darn good chance of missing anyway, was canceled. I was back and forth sending messages to The Patient Mrs., what do I do, what happens with my luggage, all this. In between, tried and failed to sleep, played a little Final Fantasy IV on my phone, kept up with the baseball game as it just so happened the Yankees were in Toronto playing the Blue Jays. I brought five Devin Townsend records with me for the trip. Listened to all of them and that lessened the stress, but if I’d remembered the xanax in my bag, I’d have been on that for sure. Too distracted. But you pass the time.

The plane landed just as Neurosis’ “Stones From the Sky” started to blow itself to pieces. Nearly perfect. I’d go to the ticket counter with the other connecting-flight types and get it sorted. The Patient Mrs. rebooked me on a 1pM Monday trip — we’d talked about buses, trains, renting a car and just driving the seven hours, which I swear if I could do right this second I would because it would get me home faster and save me going back to the airport, different times to fly — and a hotel room at the Airport Sheraton. Not roughing it.

I don’t eat airline food. It’s shit and it smells like it. By the time we land, I’m frazzled, not knowing where to go, what’s up with my bag, how I’m getting to the hotel shuttle, which shuttle to take, which Sheraton it is because there are like 10 right by the airport, on and on and on. My mind just pummeling me. And I’m starving because the last thing I ate was a 9AM breakfast on European time, at least 12 hours earlier, maybe more? I don’t have the brain power to do that math right now. Still really exhausted.

Because I want both an in-person confirmation of my makeup flight and I want to ask about my bag, I go to the connecting flights thing. We’d sat again at the gate because apparently there was no one there to meet us. This was the most excruciating part of the trip, and I felt like I was losing my mind. One flight attendant said to sit, then another one came and said to go to the front of the plane if you were connecting, so I did that, then the other flight attendant came back and got snippy about it, I got a little snippy back, but I stopped short of telling her to fuck off, and I feel like that’s a triumph. I think you can get arrested for that kind of shit.

Anyway, eventually they opened the door, and I walked to the connecting flights desk, which I found manned solely by Young Jimmy, who it was immediately clear knew nothing about anything. There was a line. I stood on it, felt stupid, left, went to customs, miserable, wretched, awful, less fascist than in America but not by much — also got my vaccine card checked, which made me glad I had it along — went to baggage claim, stood, sat, waited to see if maybe they’d just dump my luggage there. No dice. Also no one at the little info desk there, but there was some kind of baggage claim services open, so I went to that. Dude was also angry. At everything. He said it “should” work out that I’ll get my bag in Newark today. Obviously I’m not holding my breath or I’d have passed out by now.

Followed signs to the hotel shuttles, around, downstairs, past closed exits, various whatnot. It was later by then, so most stuff was closed. On the sidewalk, I asked a driver how much to the hotel — shuttle’s supposed to be free, mind you — and he said $20. I told him no way, it was like three blocks (which is true) and he goes, “For you, just for you, $10.” I’d have paid it just to get out of there, but he didn’t take a card. In retrospect, probably because he wasn’t supposed to be taking money at all. Went and asked a cab, dude goes, “$30.” I laughed and said, “forget it” and walked away.

Wandered back and forth on the sidewalk. It would’ve been four in the morning in Germany, but I wanted to call Alex and say, “Hey man, I need a ride and no one here knows what the hell they are doing,” and in my head I could hear him go, “Shit!” then take a drag off his cigarette and say, “Well, we go,” and fix everything. He’d staff the airport and have me home in 45 minutes. I shit you not, the dude is magic. Alas.

Coordinating with The Patient Mrs. — who, as great as Alex is, is the most capable human I’ve ever met, by a wide margin — was not a hardship, even over text and phone. We will have been together for 25 of my 40 years as of this September, and if I could live 10 times as long with her I would. She is the universe in which my life happens, do you understand? I love her with every fiber of my being and I am defined by that.

Some stoner dudes on the shuttle seem to recognize the YOB shirt or at least peg me as somewhat-less-square. We did that acknowledge-each-other’s-presence-among-normal-people thing that you do. More than a nod, not nearly a conversation. My skin melting off my bones from the experience I’d just had, my brain setting itself on fire with hunger, fatigue, worry, I wasn’t much for socializing anyhow.

By the time I got to the counter to check in — the line of people from the shuttle in front of me — I had heard the spiel enough times to tell the young woman that the wifi is Sheraton_Guest, that the restaurant closed at 11PM but the bar was open till 12, that the shuttle came at 25 and 55 past the hour and that the hold was $50 on my card for incidentals in the room. These are exploited workers. Pretty young women set up like props to give people coming in a sense of the refinement of the place. The means of production. Assets. That capitalist pig, Sir Topham Hat — yes, I gave the Slomatics guys my political take on Thomas the Tank Engine in Frankfurt; they are the best dudes, period. — would smile in his fucking tuxedo.

Like the airport, the restaurant was understaffed and not ready for the rush of people. And about to close since it was 10:35 or so after I finished checking in. I didn’t even go upstairs to put my bookbag down — remember I still didn’t have my luggage, but I had my bookbag, which is why I’m not currently crying and losing my mind wondering where my camera is — just walked in and asked for a grilled chicken caesar salad, no croutons. My standby. Waited. Waiting. Waiting on the plane. Waiting at the airport. Waiting at the other airport. Waiting now. Wait. Weight.

Voice in the back of my head: You know, there was a time when you were small in those airplane seats. Always there, that one.

I found on a bench a wrapped travel toothbrush and toothpaste — the kind someone had definitely gotten from the front counter of the hotel — and asked if they belonged to anyone. No answer, so I snatched those because all my clothes, toiletries, etc., are in my luggage, and, well, you gotta brush your teeth. Came up to the room. I tell you, I ate the living crap out of that salad. The salad didn’t stand a chance. After that, quick shower, even quicker call to say goodnight to The Patient Mrs. then basically right to bed as it was well past midnight. Bought D.C. Fontana’s Star Trek novel because I’ve never read it, and made it about three pages in before I was out. My alarm was set for 9:30 — fucking luxury — and I woke up at 4:45. Go figure. I’m not sure what time zone I’m in, but I know my brain and body are spread out across at least two right now.

The point of all this? I already told you: It was all worth it.

And whatever fresh, steaming mountain of bullshit today might bring once I go back to the airport dealing with my luggage, etc.? That will be worth it too.

Being able to go to Freak Valley Festival for the first time, to chat to Jens about the place, to meet people like Alex, Volker and so many others, to see friends of long-standing like Pete Holland, Rolf, Désirée, Falk-Hagen, Kirsten, Slomatics (I might make it a quiet mission to get them to New York one of these days), on and on, it meant so much to me. I already did the big thank-you thing yesterday, so I don’t want to repeat myself, but I’ll never forget the kindness, the warmth and welcome I was shown were genuinely touching. And even knowing now what would follow that experience, I’d still jump in in a heartbeat. Less than that even. I’m not getting any younger and we all just lost two years. It’s time for a bit of living.

Also sleep. I’m going crash back out and see if I can sleep before the 10:25AM (free) shuttle takes me to the airport. Thanks for reading if you still are. Love always.

Chad Ross — not quite based in Toronto anymore, but forever adjacent to that city’s weirdo psych scene owing to his work with Comet Control and Quest for Fire — will release his new not-quite-solo album, Skull Creator, on July 13 under the banner of C.Ross. And not to bury the lede here, but the record also features Isaiah Mitchell of Earthess, which you don’t need me to tell you is a monster pairing. The inclusion of pedal steel throughout — something that should be familiar to those who know Ross‘ output with the aforementioned bands — and drums lends a further full-band vibe to the eight-song release, and, well, it’s just lovely. It’s summer sunshine, is what it is.

Ross and I spoke for the last Comet Control LP (interview here) and he noted a new solo album was in the works, so I guess that turned into this. His last solo offering was issued as Nordic Nomadic in the form of 2011’s Worldwide Skyline (review here), so fair to say he’s due. And if you have time and feel like Bandcamp hunting — yes, you do — open up a new tab each for the labels that are putting out Skull Creator and find all kinds of righteous treasure. You will see the mountain of relevant links below. Safe travels on that journey.

I’ll hope to have more to come, but for now, this from the internets:

Toronto Music Scene Stalwart Chad Ross (Quest for Fire / Comet Control) Releases Psych-Folk Solo Album as C.ROSS

“Skull Creator” is the new solo record by Canadian singer/guitarist C.Ross, better known as Chad Ross, who currently fronts Toronto psych rockers Comet Control (Teepee Records). The new record features eight genre-stradling songs of americana tinged folk-rock, while hinting at Ross’s fuzzy psych-rock past. Recorded, produced and mixed by Joshua Wells (Lightning Dust, Destroyer, Black Mountain) at the Balloon Factory in Vancouver, British Columbia (the home studio of Dan Bejar of Destroyer), the new album “Skull Creator” was written at first as a solo acoustic project. When Destroyer’s Joshua Wells joined in on both drums and keys and Isaiah Mitchell (Earthless, Golden Void, the Black Crowes) on guitar, with Aaron Goldstein on pedal steel, the project morphed into a sweet psych-folk adventure.

Speaking of the hauntingly powerful album, Ross states: “I had it in my head that I was gonna make an acoustic record, with the sole purpose of making fun of myself, reflecting on a few of my past wasted lives and just generally taking the singer/songwriter thing out with the trash. The lyrics all made me laugh at one point, but when Josh and Isaiah got involved, things got elevated…. as they tend to do with musicians like that.”

Ross has spent years navigating the Canadian music scene as the singer/ guitarist for heavy psych rockers Quest for Fire (Teepee), solo acoustic as Nordic Nomadic (Blue Fog, Teepee), a member of legendary garage rock band The Deadly Snakes (In the Red) and a touring member of Vancouver’s Pink Mountaintops. Get your hands on his newest project which branches off from these influences and shows his maturing songcraft into psych-folk territory. “Skull Creator” is available July 13, 2022 as an LP co-release on Atlanta’s Echodelick Records, Canada’s Noise Agony Mayhem and Australia’s Ramble Records. Available digitally on Party Product Records.

https://www.instagram.com/cxrossx
https://www.facebook.com/CROSS-108600211859381
https://twitter.com/roycrossmusic
https://nxnx.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/ERECORDSATL
https://www.instagram.com/echodelickrecords/
https://echodelickrecords.bandcamp.com/
https://www.echodelickrecords.com/

https://www.facebook.com/NoiseAgonyMayhem-184985055235909
https://www.instagram.com/noiseagonymayhem/
https://noiseagonymayhem.bandcamp.com/artists
https://noiseagonymayhem.com/

https://www.facebook.com/Ramble-Records-104456548098088
https://www.instagram.com/ramble_records
https://ramblerecords.bandcamp.com/
https://ramblerecords.com/

https://partyproductrecords.bigcartel.com/

Frickin’ Ian Blurton gets it. That’s not news if you’re from Toronto, I guess, but hot damn, that is a song. I don’t mean that that it’s just catchy or whatever — it is, but that’s beside the point — but if you listen to “Like a Ghost,” which is the opening track from Ian Blurton‘s Future Now‘s upcoming second album, Second Skin, you can hear the mapped out structure, see the parts on the board as the song came together, or at least how it was arranged in the finished product, as Blurton and company remind that just because something is heavy doesn’t mean it can’t sound clean. If dude wants to be heavy rock’s own Ric Ocasek songwriter, he’s on his way.

So anyway, I dig the track, I guess.

There’s a fair amount of info below but I’m including all of it here because I’m pretty sure I’m gonna want it later. In any case, from the PR wire:

IAN BLURTON’S FUTURE NOW To Release Second Skin Full-Length Via Seeing Red Records July 15th

Second Skin will be released digitally and on black vinyl via BLURTON’s own Pajama Party label in Canada HERE: https://ianblurtonsfuturenow.bandcamp.com/

And on Aside/Bside (Color Merge) and Color-in-Color Splatter vinyl via Seeing Red Records HERE: http://www.seeingredrecords.com

Legendary Canadian artist/producer IAN BLURTON and his FUTURE NOW project will release latest studio album, Second Skin, via Seeing Red Records on July 15th, today unveiling the record’s artwork, track listing, and first single!

If you’re a fan of any kind of ’70s heavy rock – Southern boogie, NWOBHM, MC5/Stooges Detroit punk, Junk Shop glam, or straight-up classic rock – we are willing to bet IAN BLURTON’S FUTURE NOW has something for you. If you’re the kind of person who might geek out on the vintage gear used to record that music, we’ll double down on that wager.

A mainstay in the Canadian scene since the 1980s, IAN BLURTON may have come along after hard rock’s heyday, but he has parlayed his love of the era’s musical sensibilities into a career as both a musician (Change Of Heart, C’mon, Public Animal) and a producer (Cursed, Tricky Woo, Weakerthans, Cauldron). For the follow-up to his acclaimed solo debut, 2019’s Signals Through The Flames, he is pulling out all the stops, sourcing the best of the best for all elements. Formed to tour in support of Signals… FUTURE NOW features some of the top talents heard on that record: drummer Glenn Milchem (Blue Rodeo) and bassist Anna Ruddick (City And Colour). To complement the powerhouse rhythm section and recreate live the Wishbone Ash/Judas Priest–inspired harmonies that define the album, Aaron Goldstein was been recruited for second guitar.

In tandem with the Signals Through The Flames tour, BLURTON was accepted as an artist in residence at Studio Bell, home of the National Music Centre, in Calgary. The residency presented an opportunity to pack up the band – hot from a string of live shows – and head west to track a follow up album with the country’s most enviable collection of musical equipment.

Second Skin was recorded using the famed Rolling Stones Mobile (the studio The Rolling Stones used to record Sticky Fingers and Exile On Main Street, Led Zeppelin’s III and IV, and Deep Purple’s Machine Head) as well as the aforementioned National Music Centre. With the institution’s selection of rare guitars formerly owned by Randy Bachman, amps from Neil Young, and an array of vintage gear borrowed from Calgary friends, FUTURE NOW had the ingredients for a dream session. Throw in an early ‘80s Mellotron, and the band had all it needed to cook up a crushing collection of sludgy riff-driven rockers and prog epics, all with clean vocals, thunderous bass/double-kick, and the kind of guitar solos you wish you could play. Second Skin was mixed by Daryl Smith at Chemical West, mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege, and features artwork by Jeremy Bruneel. The record will undoubtedly make for a fine Summer soundtrack.

In advance of the release of Second Skin, today IAN BLURTON’S FUTURE NOW unveils a video for first single and album opener, “Like A Ghost.”

Comments BLURTON, “In ‘Like A Ghost,’ poet Baudelaire and god Poseidon inhabit a world in need of shelter from the past attempting to take over their future. It is about being present in a world that doesn’t want us to be. As the first track on Second Skin, it sets up the theme of the record that sometimes it’s best and ok to leave bad ideas behind.”

Second Skin Track Listing:
1. Like A Ghost
2. Second Skin
3. The Power Of No
4. When The Storm Comes Home
5. Orchestrated Illusions
6. Denim On Denim
7. Beyond Beholds The Moon
8. Too High The Sky
9. Trails To The Gate/Second Skin Reprise

IAN BLURTON’S FUTURE NOW:
Ian Blurton – vocals/guitar/keyboards
Glenn Milchem – drums/vocals
Anna Ruddick – bass/vocals
Aaron Goldstein – guitar
Guests:
Sean Beresford – guitar on “Too High The Sky”
Robin Hatch – piano “Trails To The Gate”

http://www.facebook.com/ianblurton.futurenow/
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http://www.instagram.com/ianblurton

http://www.seeingredrecords.com
http://www.seeingredrecords.bandcamp.com
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http://www.facebook.com/seeingredrecords

Ian Blurton’s Future Now, “Like a Ghost” official video

Toronto heavy rockers Low Orbit have announced the addition of second guitarist Dave Adams to their lineup. Adams will make his live debut with the band later this month in their hometown as they continue to support last year’s have-riffs-will-groove full-length Crater Creator (review here), issued through Olde Magick Records and Pink Tank. Listening to the record — which of course you can at the bottom of this post — it makes sense why the band might seek to add another six strings to the arsenal. The album wanted nothing for richness of tone or overarching thickness, so the more the merrier.

A trio bringing in a fourth is no minor shift in dynamic for a band, but as Low Orbit are closing in on a decade’s tenure and Crater Creator is their best-received work to-date, looking to bring it to life in the most impactful way possible seems utterly reasonable. The email came in and I actually nodded and said, “Yeah, makes sense.”

Hope the show’s good. Here’s word from the band:

“A three piece since our inception a decade ago, we are no longer….today we add a fourth member. We would like to warmly welcome Dave Adams into the band. A heavy guitar player and great dude. He will play his first show with us on March 25th at Tail of the Junction. Hope to see you all there.”

Formed in 2013, LOW ORBIT emerged as the culmination of over twenty years experience in the Toronto hard rock, underground scene. The resulting birth is this power trio, who share a genuine passion for their craft, and who strive to play and create the heaviest music this side of the stratosphere.

Low Orbit are:
Angelo Catenaro – Guitars, Vocals
Joe Grgic – Bass, Synth
Emilio Mammone – Drums
Dave Adams – Guitars

https://www.facebook.com/LOWORBIT3
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https://twitter.com/Low_Orbit_band
https://loworbit3.bandcamp.com/
http://www.loworbitband.com/
http://www.pink-tank-records.de/
https://www.facebook.com/pinktankrecords/
https://www.instagram.com/pinktankrecords/
https://www.facebook.com/oldemagickrecords
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https://oldemagickrecords.bandcamp.com/

Low Orbit, Crater Creator (2021)

Toronto freewheeling fuzz purveyors Lammping release their new EP, Stars We Lost, on March 4 through We Are Busy Bodies. And look, I know full well that my say-so holds about as much sway as two or three cotton balls against the barrage of noise in universes both digital and actual, but I’ll tell you again these guys are onto something special. With the songwriting of Mikhail Galkin as their foundational element, backed by the solid push of Jay Anderson‘s drums, they’ve nestled their way into an aesthetic that’s nostalgic in purpose and takes a forward thinking route to get there. Consider Stars We Lost, the title. It’s of the moment — loss is everywhere, all the time, in plague and war and famine and life — but it calls out to the ridiculous notion of popular culture pedestal-making too. “Stars.” They got it from the tabloids. It’s grocery-store pulp. Laughing at the notion of its own triviality on the cosmic scale it implies. Fucking genius.

I’ve been out here for a couple years now talking up their shit — I’ll spare you other links, but last year’s Flashjacks (review here) was rad rad rad and also pretty rad — and Stars We Lost is another sub-20-minute reminder why. “Everlasting Moor,” “Never Phoenix,” “Home of Shadows,” “’21 Interlude” and “Beyond the Veil” bring hooks and remember-good-times vibes from the outset, but there’s so much more happening underneath. In the quote below, Galkin talks about sound-collage as an aspiration, and you can absolutely hear that taking shape in “Never Phoenix,” with the ’90s hip-hop bounce to its rhythm and starbursts of melody, and “’21 Interlude,” which is executed with maybe-purposeful irony in a manner retro enough to have been a lost backing track for Beastie Boys. Meanwhile, in the hall of justice, “Everlasting Moor” runs a thread of fuzz out in its first verse that never seems to disappear, and that’s only to the EP’s great strength, as even the acoustic-led “Home of Shadows” finds space for space through its electric-wah flourish and smooth vocal melody.

The sunny fuzz indie of “Beyond the Veil” wraps some version or other, but the master I got has another track too, in “Golem of Garbage Hill” that’s no less wonderfully catchy than “Everlasting Moor” or “Never Phoenix” or whichever track you want to set it against, even if the mood is a little more severe in the chorus. If it’s not actually on the physical version of Stars We Lost, I’m hoping it gets released as a standalone 7″ with a B-side that sounds completely different but is no less awesome. Lammping make such things sound easily crafted, organic, and righteously humble. I don’t know what the sample is at the end of “Beyond the Veil,” but it clearly means something to someone, probably Galkin, as it’s too purposefully placed to just be random. At this point, I’m willing to trust these guys don’t do anything without good reason, even if occasionally that good reason is just screwing around.

Let me bottom-line Lammping for you: I’ve never been cool. Not one day in my life. When I listen to Lammping, I feel cool. Like I’m in on all the jokes. Like sometimes things are rough but you can just roll over all that and it doesn’t matter anyway because if you’ve got a good song in your head, that’s enough. Bonus points to “Everlasting Moor” for being both an immigrant story and for the Beatles reference in the second half.

If you want the critical appraisal, you can absolutely hear Lammping pushing their sound forward on Stars We Lost, and more important, they know they’re doing it and it still doesn’t sound forced. I would expect and hope that whatever full-length might follow — and it’s worth noting that these songs might indeed show up on a next LP; that’s what happened last time — to continue along this path, because what’s ultimately happening is that, with Galkin‘s craft as the base they’re working from and the experimentalism laid overtop, they’re finding their style in an honest swath of influences. This is life, or some vision of it, and if you can’t get down, it’s your loss. Me, I’m on board with wherever they go next. I’ll probably be begging to stream it just like I was with this. Like I said, never been cool.

But we can pretend:

Mikhail Galkin on Stars We Lost:

Everlasting Moor begins with “See a man, he’s popping and locking in a parkette gazebo”. I saw a dude in an afternoon doing just that, at a small parkette close to my house, where I bring my daughter to play. He brought a boombox and was just breakdancing by himself in this little gazebo, with no one around. For whatever reason, that sparked a stream of consciousness song that was about finding our place in the world, and if unable to, creating a world in your mind you feel at home in. I’ve always wanted to write a song about my own immigrant experience, and after the first line, the words just spilled out.

Our first records were more traditional Psych/Stoner Rock albums, propelled by guitar riffs and solos, but we ultimately always wanted to reach beyond that. We love Sleep and Sabbath and King Gizzard but we also love De La Soul and Madlib, for example. The approach for this record was much closer to 3 feet High and Rising (De La), where we look at all the ideas and sounds we have in our minds almost as samples. Once you approach the recording process in that way, where you’re almost building a sound collage around a song you wrote with just a guitar, the world opens up musically. The end result is still under the psych umbrella, but we hope it translates to something that transcends cliché and categorization.

Jay came up with the idea for the record cover. When people ask us to describe our sound, its kind of difficult to nail down, so an artistic representation speaks louder sometimes. Jay was like “imagine a surfer dude wearing a black hoodie under his outfit – that’s our sound!” It made sense to me right away. The melodic and heavy and pretty and rugged all in one pot. So we played off the early Beach Boys imagery and came up with that. Jay’s pal Kagan McLeod, who does illustration for like GQ and Wall Street Journal and Newsweek was nice enough to help us out and bring our vision to life.

The name “Stars We Lost” comes from the classic tabloid headlines of when celebrities pass. I thought it sounded like a good album title and thematically reflected some of the record and Jay was down.

The foundation of Lammping’s sound is rooted in Jay Anderson’s heavy drumming and Mikhail Galkin’s melodic riffs, but with the addition of samples, drum machines, and a variety of instrumentation, the band’s sonic palate is just as indebted to Stereolab, De La Soul and Kraftwerk as it is to Black Sabbath, Blue Cheer and Sleep.

Stars We Lost, is a new EP from the band is due to come out on vinyl and digitally on March 4 2022 via We Are Busy Bodies.

Lammping on Instagram

Lammping on Bandcamp

We are Busy Bodies on Facebook

We are Busy Bodies on Instagram

We are Busy Bodies on Bandcamp

We are Busy Bodies website

Funky-fresh off releasing one of 2021’s best full-lengths in Flashjacks (review here), Toronto purveyors of mellow fuzzy groove Lammping will issue the new five-track EP Stars We Lost on March 4.

Like their 2021 EP, New Jaws (review here), it’s entirely possible that the songs of the 18-ish-minute Stars We Lost will be repurposed for the band’s next album, and if that’s the case, fine. I’ll take new Lammping as it comes. Their songs are memorable, unpretentious, engaging, and capture a nostalgic feel that transcends genre fluidly without losing their structural purpose. In short, I dig this band. More from them is only good news as far as I’m concerned.

We Are Busy Bodies has the release this time around — Flashjacks was on Echodelick Records, and 2020’s Bad Boys of Comedy (review here) was on Nasoni — and the opening track “Everlasting Moor” is streaming now, the band bringing vibes from surf and garage to coincide with their ’90s-bent do-anything-they-wantness. I’m on board, let’s go.

From their Bandcamp:

Lammping – Stars We Lost – March 4

Lammping is a psychedelic rock band based out of Toronto, founded by singer/songwriter Mikhail Galkin and drummer Jay Anderson. Meeting at a concert where Jay’s and Mikhail’s previous bands were sharing the bill, they quickly connected over their musical tastes, drawing on their love of everything from mid-90’s boom-bap to Tropicalia and library music.

The band was started as an attempt to bring the various musical influences and ideas together under a psych-rock umbrella, expanding the possibilities of heavy music. The band’s demo led to a vinyl release of the debut LP on Nasoni Records in 2020 and their sophomore album “Flashjacks” in 2021 on Echodelic Records, both albums drawing critical praise.

The foundation of Lammping’s sound is rooted in Jay Anderson’s heavy drumming and Mikhail Galkin’s melodic riffs, but with the addition of samples, drum machines, and a variety of instrumentation, the band’s sonic palate is just as indebted to Stereolab, De La Soul and Kraftwerk as it is to Black Sabbath, Blue Cheer and Sleep.

Stars We Lost, is a new EP from the band is due to come out on vinyl and digitally on March 4 2022 via We Are Busy Bodies.

Tracklisting:
1. Everlasting Moor
2. Never Phoenix
3. Home of Shadows
4. ’21 Interlude
5. Beyond The Veil

https://www.instagram.com/lammping
https://lammping.bandcamp.com/
http://www.facebook.com/wearebusybodies
http://www.instagram.com/wearebusybodies
https://wearebusybodies.bandcamp.com/
http://www.wearebusybodies.com/

Lammping, Stars We Lost (2022)

Day two, huh? Don’t know about you, but I’m feeling positively groovy after yesterday’s initial round of 10 records en route to 50 by Friday, and maybe that’s all the better since there’s not only another round of 10 today, but 50 more awaiting in January. Head down, keep working. You know how it goes. Hope you find something cool in this bunch, and if not, stick around because there’s more to come. Never enough time, never enough riffs. Let’s get to it.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Khemmis, Deceiver

Denver’s Khemmis are everything an American heavy metal band should be in 2021. The six-song Deceiver is the fourth LP from the band — now comprised of guitarist/vocalist Ben Hutcherson, guitarist/vocalist Phil Pendergast and drummer Zach Coleman — and it soars and crushes in kind. It is no more doom than thrash or epic traditional metal, with sweeping choruses from opener “Avernal Gate” onward, and yet it is intense without being boorish, accessible without being dumbed-down, dynamic in presentation. It commits neither to genre nor structure but is born of both, and its well-timed arrangements of more extreme vocalizations on “House of Cadmus” and “Obsidian Crown” are no less vital to its sonic persona than the harmonies surrounding. Even more here than on 2018’s Desolation (review here), Khemmis sound like masters of the form — the kind of band who’d make a kid want to pick up a guitar — and are in a class of their own.

Khemmis on Facebook

Nuclear Blast store

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Low Orbit, Crater Creator

Somebody in Toronto’s Low Orbit likes Dr. Who, as signaled by inclusions like “Tardis” and “Timelord” on the trio’s third album, Crater Creator. Also huge riffs. Working with their hometown’s house helmer Ian Blurton (Rough Spells, Future Now, Biblical, etc.), guitarist/vocalist Angelo Catenaro, bassist Joe Grgic and drummer Emilio Mammone proffer seven songs across two-sides bent toward largesse of chug and spaciousness of… well, space. The opening title-track, which moves into the lumbering “Tardis” and the driving side-A-capper “Sea of See,” sets an expectation for massive tonality that the rest of what follows meets with apparent glee. The fuzz-forward nature of “Monocle” (also the cowbell) feels straightforward after the relative plod of “Empty Space” before it, but “Wormhole” and “Timelord” assure the mission’s overarching success, the latter with aplomb fitting its finale position on such a cosmically voluminous offering. Craters accomplished, at least in eardrums.

Low Orbit on Facebook

Pink Tank Records website

Olde Magick Records on Bandcamp

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Confusion Master, Haunted

One assumes that the Cthulhu figure depicted breaking a lighthouse with its cthrotch on the cover art of Confusion Master‘s Haunted is intended as a metaphor for the coming of the German four-piece’s engrossing psychedelic doom riffery. The band, who made their debut with 2018’s Awaken (review here), owe some debt to Electric Wizard‘s misanthropic stoner nihilism, but the horrors crafted across the six-song/56-minute sophomore outing are their own in sound and depth alike, as outwardly familiar as the lumbering central riff of “The Cannibal County Maniac” might seem. It’s amazing I haven’t heard more hype about Confusion Master, with the willful slog of “Jaw on a Hook”‘s 11 minutes so dug in ahead of the sample-topped title-track you can’t really call it anything other than righteous in its purpose, as filthy as that purpose is on the rolling “Casket Down” or “Under the Sign of the Reptile Master.” Shit, they don’t even start vocals until minute six of 10-minute opener “Viking X.” What more do you want? Doom the fuck out.

Confusion Master on Facebook

Exile on Mainstream website

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Daemonelix, Devil’s Corkscrew

Sludge metal punishment serves as the introductory statement of Los Angeles’ Daemonelix, whose Devil’s Corkscrew EP runs just 18 minutes and four songs but needs no more than that to get its message across. The band, led by guitarist Derek Phillips, are uniformly brash and scathing in their composition, harnessing the punkish energy of an act like earlier -(16)- and bringing it to harsher places altogether, while still — as the motor-ready riff of “In the Name of Freedom” demonstrates — keeping one foot in heavy rock traditions. Vocalist Ana Garcia Lopez is largely indecipherable in her throaty, rasping growls on opener “Daemonelix” and the subsequent “Raise Crows,” but “In the Name of Freedom” has a cleaner hook and closer “Sing for the Moon” brings in more atmospherics during its slower, more open-feeling verses, before crushing once more in a manner that’s — dare I say it? — progressive? Clearly more than just bludgeoning, then, but yes, plenty of that too.

Daemonelix on Facebook

Metal Assault Records on Bandcamp

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Wooden Fields, Wooden Fields

While I’ll admit that Wooden Fields had me on board with the mere mention of the involvement of Siena Root bassist Sam Riffer, the Stockholm trio’s boogie-prone seven-song self-titled debut earns plenty of allegiance on its own, with vocalist/guitarist Sartez Faraj leading the classically-grooving procession in a manner that expands outward as it moves through the album’s tidy 38 minutes, taking the straight-ahead rush of “Read the Signs” and “Shiver and Shake” into the airier-but-still-grounded “Should We Care” before centerpiece “I’m Home” introduces a jammier vibe, drummer Fredrik Jansson Punkka (Witchcraft, etc.) seeming totally amenable to holding the track together beneath the extended solo. The transition works because no matter how far they go in “Don’t Be a Fool” or “Wind of Hope,” Wooden Fields never lose the thread of songcraft they weave throughout, and the melodies of closer “Endless Time” alone establish them as a group of marked potential, regardless of pedigree and the familiarity of their stylistic foundation.

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Argonauta Records website

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Plaindrifter, Echo Therapy

Surging forth with lush progressive heavy psychedelic rock, Plaindrifter‘s debut full-length, Echo Therapy, showcases an awareness of the context in which it arrives — which is to say the German three-piece seem to be familiar with the aesthetic tropes they’re working toward. Still, although their emphasis on bringing together melody and heft may result in flashes of Elder in the extended “Prisma” or the closer “Digital Dreamcatcher” or Elephant Tree in “New World,” with opener “M.N.S.N.” making its impression as much with ambience as tonal weight and centerpiece “Proto Surfer Boy” sneakily executing its linear build in space-creating fashion before its long fadeout, there’s an individual presence in the material beyond a play toward style, and from what they offer here, it’s easy to imagine their forward-thinking course will lead to further manifest individualism in subsequent work. That may be me reading into the possibilities cast by the melodies of “M.N.S.N.” and in the quieter break of “Proto Surfer Boy,” but that’s plenty to go on and by no means the sum of Echo Therapy‘s achievements.

Plaindrifter on Facebook

Plaindrifter on Bandcamp

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Spawn, Live at Moonah Arts Collective

The kind of release that makes me want to own everything the band has done, Spawn‘s Live at Moonah Arts Collective enraptures with four tracks of meditative psychedelic flow, beginning with “Meditation in an Evil Temple” and oozing patiently through a cover of “Morning of the Earth” — from the 1971 Australian surf film of the same name — before “Remember to Be Here Now” issues that needed reminder to coincide with the drift that would otherwise so easily lead the mind elsewhere, and the 13-minute “All is Shiva” culminates with a spiritually-vibing wash of guitar, sitar, bass, drums, keyboard, tabla and tantric vocal repetitions. Based in Melbourne, the seven-maybe-more-piece outfit released a studio EP in 2018 on Nasoni Records (of course) and otherwise have a demo to their credit, but the with the sense of communion they bring to these songs, studio or live doesn’t matter anymore. At just under half an hour, it’s a short set — too short — but with the heavier ending of “All is Shiva,” there’s nothing they leave unsaid in that time. This is aural treasure. Pay heed.

Spawn on Facebook

Spawn on Bandcamp

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Ambassador Hazy, Glacial Erratics

Formed as a solo-project for Sterling DeWeese, the lo-fi experimentalist psych of Ambassador Hazy‘s Glacial Erratics first showed up in 2020 after four years of making, and with a 2021 vinyl release, the 14-track/39-minute offering would seem to be getting its due. DeWeese — sometimes on his own, sometimes backed by a full band or just drummer Jonathan Bennett — delights in the weird, finding a place somewhere between desert-style drift (his vocals remind at times of mellower Mario Lalli, but I doubt that’s more than coincidence), folk and space-indie on “Ain’t the Same No More,” which is somehow bluesy while the fuzzy “Lucky Clover” earlier taps alterna-chic bedroom gaze and the subsequent “Passing into a Grey Area” brings in full backing for the first time. Disjointed? Yeah, but it’s part of the whole idea, so don’t sweat it. No single song tops four minutes — the Dead Meadowy “Sleepyhead” comes closest at 3:51 — and it ends with “The World’s a Mess,” so yeah, DeWeese makes it easy enough to roll with what’s happening here. I’d suggest doing that.

Ambassador Hazy on Facebook

Ambassador Hazy on Bandcamp

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Mocaine, The Birth of Billy Munro

A wildly ambitious debut — to the point of printing up a novella to flesh out its storyline and characters — The Birth of Billy Munro follows a narrative spearheaded by Mocaine guitarist/vocalist Amrit Mohan and is set in the American South following its title-character through a post-traumatic mental decay with material that runs a gamut from progressive metal to psychedelia to classic Southern heavy rock and grunge and so on. In just 43 minutes and with a host of dialogue-driven stretches — also samples like Alec Baldwin talking about his god complex from 1993’s Malice in the soon-to-be-churning “Narcissus” — the plot is brought to a conclusion on “The Bend,” which touches lighter acoustics and jazzy nuance without letting go entirely of the ’90s flair in “Psylocybin” a few tracks earlier, as far removed from the swaggering “Pistol Envy” as it seems to be, and in fact is. However deep the listener might want to explore, Mocaine seems ready to accommodate, and one only wonders whether the trio will explore further tales of Billy Munro or move on to other stories and concepts.

Mocaine on Facebook

Mocaine on Bandcamp

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Sun Below, Sun Below

Toronto riffers Sun Below would like to be your entertainment for the evening, and they’d probably prefer it if you were also stoned. Their 71-minute self-titled debut long-player arrives after a series of three shorter offerings between 2018-2019, and after the opening “Chronwall Neanderhal,” the 14-minute “Holy Drifter” lets you know outright how it’s gonna go. They’re gonna vibe, they’re gonna jam, they’re gonna riff, and your brain’s gonna turn to goo and that’s just fine. Stoner is as stoner does, and whether that’s on a shorter track like “Shiva Sativa,” the shuffling “Kinetic Keif” and the rumbling “Doom Stick,” or the 18-minute “Twin Worlds” that follows ahead of the 12-minute closer “Solar Burnout,” one way or the other, you get gargantuan, post-Pike riffage that knows from whence its grooves come and doesn’t care it’s going to roll out an hour-plus anyway and steamroll lucidity in the process. Is that a bongrip at the end of “Solar Burnout” or the end of the world? More to the point, can’t it be both?

Sun Below on Facebook

Sun Below on Bandcamp

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