Posted in Whathaveyou on February 18th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Those of you playing along at home with your The Obelisk Brand™ Calendar of Such and Sundry will want to take out your secret-code invisible ink pen and keep an eye for more to come, because I’m trying to line up a stream ahead of the May 16 release date of Black Moon Circle‘s A Million Leagues Beyond – Moskus Sessions: Vol. 1 studio session. Whether or not that comes together — I’m always hopeful, but sometimes there’s a plan already unfolding — the captured-live outing is the first release from the Trondheim, Norway-based outfit since 2023’s Leave the Ghost Behind (review here), which was a righteously cut gem of cosmic origin. Three of the four tracks that feature on A Million Leagues Beyond, for example, come from that record. So yes, relevant.
I asked bassist/vocalist Øyvin Engan for some background on the release, and he was kind enough to offer a bit of insight, which you’ll find below, along with the release info that I assume will be on the Bandcamp page when preorders go up. All follows the cover art:
BLACK MOON CIRCLE – A Million Leagues Beyond
A Million Leagues Beyond will be out May 16th and as always it will be released on vinyl by Torgeir and Crispin Glover Records. In addition the record will also be out on digital platforms, and finally, it will be printed on CD which will be sold through Bandcamp.
Usually I wouldn’t say anything about the music, but this will be an exception. The record is not an effort to make a documentation of that night at Moskus. Sure, the songs were played that night, but not in this order and many were left out for this release. So this is not a classic ‘Live at…’ record, like Thin Lizzy in Live & Dangerous, Steve Ray Vaughan in Live at El Mocambo, etc. So what is it?
Moskus is a small bar located in Trondheim that hosts about 70 concerts every year, in genres as diverse as jazz, country, americana, rock, progressive jazz and occasionally psychedelic hard rock. You can cram 80 people into the venue, with their backs against the wall — which, by the way, is covered with vinyl records — the audience faces the stage which barely has room for drums and a couple of amplifiers. Obviously, when the band is done playing, the staff lower the needle into the groove, and music pours out from the speakers. It is ‘vinyl-only’ at Moskus.
This session was recorded in front of an enthusiastic crowd, on the 18th November 2023, by Åsmund Arnesson Rise. The album was mixed in Nautilus Studio by Øyvin Engan, and mastered by Helge Sten at Audio Virus Lab. The rattle-can stencil art, ‘Cosmic Divah’, was painted by Paul, and photographed by Thor Egil Leirtrø. The cover art was designed by Håvard Gjelseth. This release is supported by Trondheim Kommune. Tomas expresses his gratitude for the support from Frank Jacobs at Pearl Drums Europe, Jarle Johansen at CRS and Vidar Kolberg at 4Sound Trondheim. We say: Thank you Torgeir Lund (Crispin Glover Records) for releasing the music, and providing help in every possible way. Thank you Magnus Lykkelig and Tor Schølberg for your continuous support of live music. It is never taken for granted.
Tracklisting: 01. Drifting Across the Plains 02. Snake Oil 03. Serpent 04. Psychedelic Spacelord (Lighter Than Air)
Black Moon Circle: Øyvin Engan: vocals bass Vemund Engan: guitar, backing vocals Tomas Järmyr: drums Dr. Space: synth
Posted in Reviews on October 15th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
I’ll be honest, I don’t even want to talk about how well this Quarterly Review is going because I worry about screwing it up. It’s always a lot of work to round up 10 records per day, even if there’s a single or and EP snuck in there, but it’s been a long time now that I’ve been doing things this way — sometimes as a means of keeping up, sometimes to herald things to come, usually just a way to write about things I want to write about regardless of timeliness — and it’s always worth it. I’ve had a couple genuinely easy days here. Easier than expected. Obviously that’s a win.
So while I wait for the other shoe to drop, let’s keep the momentum going.
Quarterly Review #61-70:
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Massive Hassle, Unreal Damage
Brotherly two-piece Massive Hassle, comprised of brothers Bill Fisher and Marty Fisher — who played together in Mammothwing and now both feature in Church of the Cosmic Skull — get down with another incredibly complex set of harmonized ’70s-style soul-groovers, nailing it as regards tone and tempo from the big riff that eats “Lost in the Changes” to the strums and croons early in the penultimate “Tenspot,” hitting a high note together in that song that gives over to stark and wistful standalone guitar meander that with barely a minute ago gorgeously becomes a bittersweet triumph of nostalgic fuzz reminiscent of Colour Haze‘s “Fire” and having the sheer unmitigated gall to tell the world around them it’s no big deal by naming the band Massive Hassle and stating that as the thing they most want to avoid. When they did Number One (review here) in 2023, it felt like they were proving the concept. With Unreal Damage, they’re quietly pushing limits.
Iress are the Los Angeles-based four-piece of Michelle Malley (vocals), Michael Maldonado (bass), Glenn Chu (drums) and Graham Walker (guitar). Sleep Now, In Reverse is their fourth full-length in nearly 15 years of existence. As a record, it accomplishes a lot of things, but what you need to understand is that where it most succeeds and stands itself out is in bringing together a heavy post-rock sound — heavygaze, as the kids don’t say because they don’t know what it is — with emotive expression on vocals, a blending of ethereal and the most human and affecting, and when Malley lets loose in the payoff of “Mercy,” it’s an early highlight with plenty more to follow. It’s not that Iress are reinventing genre — evolving, maybe? — but what they’re doing with it is an ideal unto itself, taking those aspects from across an aesthetic range and incorporating them into a whole, at times defiantly cohesive sound, lush but clearheaded front to back.
When the band put the shimmying “Apocalypse Babes” up as a standalone single last year, it was some five years after their debut full-length, 2018’s Mindtripper (review here) — though there was a split between — so not an insignificant amount of time for Norway’s Magmakammer to expand on their methods and dig into the songs. To be sure, “Doom Jive” and “Zimbardo” still have that big-hook, Uncle Acid-style dirty garage buzz that lends itself so well to cultish themes but thankfully here is about more than murder. And indeed, the band seems to have branched out a bit, and the eight-song/43-minute Before I Burn is well served by divergences like the closing “I Will Guide Your Hand” or the way “Cult of Misanthropy” sounds like a studio outtake on a bootleg from 1969 until they kick it open around a build of marching guitar, even as it stays loyal to Magmakammer‘s core stylistic purposes. A welcome return.
The kind of sludge rock Ohio’s Evel play, informed by Mondo Generator‘s druggy, volatile heavy punk and C.O.C.‘s Southern metal nod, maybe a bit of High on Fire in “Alaska,” with a particularly Midwestern disappointment-in-everything that would’ve gone over well at Emissions From the Monolith circa 2003, isn’t what’s trendy. It’s not the cool thing. It doesn’t care about that, or about this review, or about providing social media content to maximize its algorithmic exposure. I’m not knocking any of that — especially the review, which is going swimmingly; I promise a point is coming — but if Evel‘s six-songer debut EP, Omen, is a foretell of things to come, the intention behind it is more about the catharsis of the writing/performance than trying to play to ‘scene’-type expectations. It is a pissed-off fuckall around which the band — which features guitarist/vocalist Alex Perekrest, also of Red Giant — will continue to build as “Dust Angel” and the swinging “Dawn Patrol” already find them doing. The going will likely be noisy, and that’s just fine.
Some six years and one reunion after their fourth album, 2018’s The Lucky Ones (review here), Virginia-born classic heavy barnburners Satan’s Satyrs are back with a fifth collection beating around riffs from Sabbath and the primordial ooze of heavy that birthed them, duly brash and infectious in their energy. Founding bassist/vocalist Clayton Burgess and guitarist Jarrett Nettnin are joined in the new incarnation of the band by guitarist Morgan McDaniel (also Mirror Queen) and drummer Russ Yusuf — though Sean Saley has been with them for recent live shows — and as they strut and swing through “Saltair Burns” like Pentagram if they’d known how to play jazz but were still doom, or the buzzy demo-style experimentation of “Genuine Turquoise,” which I’m just going to guess came together differently than was first expected. So much the better. They’ve never been hugely innovative, but Satan’s Satyrs have consistently delivered at this point across a span of more than a decade and they have their own spin on the style. They may always be a live band, but at least in my mind, there’s not much more one would ask that After Dark doesn’t deliver.
Delivered through Kozmik Artifactz, Weight in Gold is the second long-player from Melbourne, Australia’s Whoopie Cat, and it meets the listener at the intersection of classic, ’70s-style heavy blues rock and prog. Making dynamic use of a dual-vocal approach in “Pretty Baby” after establishing tone, presence and craft as assets with the seven-minute opening title-track, the band are unflinchingly modern in production even as they lean toward vintage-style song construction, and that meld of intention results in an organic sound that’s not restricted by the recording. Plus it’s louder, which doesn’t hurt most of the time. In any case, as Whoopie Cat follow-up their 2018 debut, Illusion of Choice, they do so with distinction and the ability to convey a firm grasp on their songwriting and convey a depth of intention from the what-if-Queen-but-blues “Icarus” or the consuming Hammondery of closer “Oh My Love.” Listening, I can’t help but wonder how far into prog they might ultimately go, but they’ve found a sweetspot in these songs that’s between styles, and they fit right in it.
Cheeky, heavy garage punk surely will not be enough to save the immortal souls of Earth Tongue from all their devil worship and intricate vocal patterning. And honestly the New Zealand two-piece — I could’ve sworn I saw something about them moving to Germany, but maybe they just had a really good Berlin show? — sound fine with that. Guitarist Gussie Larkin and drummer Ezra Simons benefit from the straightforward outward nature of their songs. That is, “Out of This Hell,” “The Mirror,” “Bodies Dissolve Tonight!” and any of the other nine inclusions on the record that either were or could’ve been singles, are catchy and tightly written. They’re not overplayed or underplayed, and they have enough tonal force in Larkin‘s guitar that the harder churn of closer “The Reluctant Host” can leave its own impression and still feel fluid alongside some of Great Haunting‘s sweeter psych-punk. Wherever they live, the two-piece make toys out of pop and praise music so that even “Miraculous Death” sounds like, and is, fun.
The collection House of Pain (Demos) takes its title from the place where guitarist/vocalist Tomas Iramain recorded them alongside bassist Matias Maltratador and drummer Jorge Iramain, though whether it’s a studio, rehearsal space, or an actual house, I won’t profess to know. Tomas is the lone remaining member carried over from the band’s 2020 self-titled LP, and the other part of what you need to know about House of Pain (Demos) can also be found in the title: it’s demos. Do not expect a studio sound full of flourish and nuance. Reportedly most of the songs were tracked with two Shure SM57s (the standard vocal mic), save for “Nomad” and “The Way I Am,” I guess because one broke? The point is, as raw as they are — and they are raw — these demos want nothing for appeal. The bounce in the bonus-track-type “Mountain (Take 1)” feels like a Dead Meadowy saunter, and for all of its one-mic-ness, “Nomad” gives a twist on ’50s and early ’60s guitar instrumentals that’s only bolstered by the recording. I’m not saying Las Historias should press up 10,000 LPs immediately or anything, but if this was the record, or maybe an EP and positioned as more substantial than the demos, aside from a couple repeated tracks, you could do far worse. “Hell Bird” howls, man. Twice over.
Certainly “Come With Me” and others on Aquanaut‘s self-titled debut have their desert rocking aspects, but there’s at least as much The Sword as Kyuss in what the Trondheim, Norway, newcomers unfurl on their self-titled, self-released debut, and when you can careen like in “Gamma Rays,” maybe sometimes you don’t need anything else. The seven-track/35-minute outing gets off to a bluesy, boozy start with “Lenéa,” and from there, Aquanaut are able to hone an approach that has its sludgier side in some of the Eyehategod bark of “Morality” but that comes to push increasingly far out as it plays through, so that “Living Memories” soars as the finale after the mid-tempo fuzzmaking of “Ivory,” and so Aquanaut seem to have a nascent breadth working for them in addition to the vigor of a young band shaping a collective persona. The generational turnover in Norway is prevalent right now with a number of promising debuts and breakouts in the last couple years. Aquanaut have a traditionalism at their core but feel like they want to break it as much as celebrate it, and if you’re the type to look for ‘bands to watch,’ that’s a reason to watch. Or even listen, if you’re feeling especially risk-friendly.
While I would be glad to be writing about Ghost Frog‘s quirky heavy-Weezerism and psychedelic chicanery even if their third album, Galactic Mini Golf didn’t have a song called “Deep Space Nine Iron” on it, I can’t lie and say that doesn’t make the prospect a little sweeter. It’s an interlude and I don’t even care — they made it and it’s real. The Portland, Oregon, four-piece of guitarist/vocalist Quinn Schwartz, guitarist/synthesist Karl Beheim, bassist Archie Heald and drummer Vincent LiRocchi (the latter making his first appearance) keep somewhat to a golfy theme, find another layer’s worth of heavy on “Shadow Club,” declare themselves weird before you even press play and reinforce the claim in both righteous post-grunge roll of “Burden of Proof” and the new wave rock of “Bubble Guns” before the big ol’ stompy riff in “Black Hole in One’ leads to a purposeful whole-album finish. Some things don’t have to make the regular kind of sense, because they make their own kind. Absurd as the revelry gets, Ghost Frog make their own kind of sense. Maybe you’ll find it’s also your kind of sense and that’s how we learn things about ourselves from art. Have a great rest of your day.
Posted in Reviews on November 30th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Generally I think of Thursday as the penultimate day of a given Quarterly Review. This one I was thinking of adding more days to get more stuff in ahead of year-end coverage coming up in December. I don’t know what that would do to my weekend — actually, yes I do — but sometimes it’s worth it. I’m yet undecided. Will let you know tomorrow, or perhaps not. Dork of mystery, I am.
Today is PACKED with cool sounds. If you haven’t found something yet that’s really hit you, it might be your day.
Quarterly Review #31-40:
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Tortuga, Iterations
From traditionalist proto-doom and keyboard-inflected prog to psychedelic jamming and the Mountain-style start-stop riff on “Lilith,” Poznań, Poland’s Tortuga follow 2020’s Deities (discussed here) with seven tracks and 45 minutes that come across as simple and barebones in the distortion of the guitar and the light reverb on the vocals, but the doom rock doesn’t carry from “Lilith” into “Laspes,” which has more of a ’60s psych crux, a mellow but not unjoyful meander in its first half turning to a massive lumber in the second, all the more elephantine with a solo overtop. They continue throughout to cross the lines between niches — “Quaus” has some dungeon growls, “Epitaph” slogs emotive like Pallbearer, etc. — and offer finely detailed performances in a sound malleable to suit the purposes of their songs. Polish heavy doesn’t screw around. Well, at least not any more than it wants to. Tortuga‘s creative reach becomes part of the character of the album.
I’m sorry, I gotta ask: What’s the point of anything when Spidergawd can put out a record like VII and it’s business as usual? Like, the world doesn’t stop for a collective “holy shit” moment. Even in the heavy underground, never mind general population. These are the kinds of songs that could save lives if properly employed to do so, and for the Norwegian outfit, it’s just what they do. The careening hooks of “Sands of Time” and “The Tower” at the start, the melodies across the span. The energy. I guess this is dad rock? Shit man, I’m a dad. I’m not this cool. Spidergawd have seven records out and I feel like Metallica should’ve been opening for them at stadiums this past summer, but they remain criminally underrated and perhaps use that as flexibility around their pop-heavy foundation to explore new ideas. The last three songs on VII — “Afterburner,” “Your Heritage” and “…And Nothing But the Truth” — are among the strongest and broadest Spidergawd have ever done, and “Dinosaur” and the classic-metal ripper “Bored to Death” give them due preface. One of the best active heavy rock bands, living up to and surpassing their own high standards.
Rumbling low end and spacious guitar, slow flowing drums and contemplative vocals, and some charred sludge for good measure, mark out the procession of “At First Light” on Morag Tong‘s third album and first for Majestic Mountain Records, the four-song Grieve. Moving from that initial encapsulation through the raw-throat sludge thud of most of “Passages,” they crash out and give over to quiet guitar at about four minutes in and set up the transition to the low-end groove-cool of “A Stem’s Embrace,” a sleepy fluidity hitting its full voluminous crux after three minutes in, crushing from there en route to its noisy finish at just over nine minutes long. That would be the epic finisher of most records, but Morag Tong‘s grievances extend to the 20-minute “No Sun, No Moon,” which at 20 minutes is a full-length’s progression on its own. At very least the entirety of side B, but more than the actual runtime is the theoretical amount of space covered as the four-piece shift from ambient drone through huge plod and resolve the skyless closer with a crushing delve into post-sludge atmospherics. That’s as fitting an end as one could ask for an offering that so brazenly refuses to follow impulses other than its own.
The nine-song Wahn Und Sinn carries the distinction of being the first full-length from German singer-songwriter Conny Ochs — also known for his work in Ananda Mida and his collaboration with Wino — to be sung in his own language. As a non-German speaker, I won’t pretend that doesn’t change the listening experience, but that’s the idea. Words and melodies in different languages take on corresponding differences in character, and so in addition to appreciating the strings, pianos, acoustic and electric guitars, and, in the case of “Welle,” a bit of static noise in a relatively brief electronic soundscape, hearing Ochs‘ delivery no less emotive for switching languages on the cinematic “Grimassen,” or the lounge drama of “Ding” earlier on, it’s a new side from a veteran figure whose “experimentalism” — and no, I’m not talking about singing in your own language as experimental, I’m talking about Trialogos there — is backburnered in favor of more traditional, still rampantly melancholy pop arrangements. It sounds like someone who’s decided they can do whatever the hell they feel like their songs should making that a reality. Only an asshole would hold not speaking the language against that.
I’m going to write this review as though I’m speaking directly to Ritual King because, well, I am. Hey guys. Congrats on the record. I can hear a ton going on with it. Some of Elder‘s bright atmospherics and rhythmic twists, some more familiar stoner riffage repurposed to suit a song like “Worlds Divide” after “Flow State” calls Truckfighters to mind, the songs progressive and melodic. The way you keep that nod in reserve for “Landmass?” That’s what I’m talking about. Here’s some advice you didn’t ask for: Keep going. I’m sure you have big plans for next year, and that’s great, and one thing leads to the next. You’re gonna have people for the next however long telling you what you need to do. Do what feels right to you, and keep in mind the decisions that led you to where you are, because you’re right there, headed to the heart of this thing you’re discovering. Two records deep there’s still a lot of potential in your sound, but I think you know a track like “Tethered” is a victory on its own, and that as big as “The Infinite Mirror” gets at the end, the real chance it takes is in the earlier vocal melody. You’re a better band than people know. Just keep going. Thanks.
Inhabiting the sort of alternately engulfing and minimal spaces generally occupied by the likes of Bell Witch, New Jersey’s Oldest Sea make their full-length debut with A Birdsong, A Ghost and realize a bleakness of mood that is affecting even in its tempo, seeming to slow the world around it to its own crawl. The duo of Samantha Marandola and Andrew Marandola, who brought forth their Strange and Eternal EP (review here) in 2022, find emotive resonance in a death-doom build through the later reaches of “Untracing,” but the subsequent three-minute-piece-for-chorus-and-distorted-drone “Astronomical Twilight” and the similarly barely-there-until-it-very-much-is closer “Metamorphose” mark out either end of the extremes while “The Machines That Made Us Old” echoes Godflesh in its later riffing as Samantha‘s voice works through screams en route to a daringly hopeful drone. Volatile but controlled, it is a debut of note for its patience and vulnerability as well as its deep-impact crash and consuming tone.
Each track on Dim Electrics‘ self-titled five-songer LP becomes a place to rest for a while. No individual piece is lacking activity, but each cut has room for the listener to get inside and either follow the interweaving aural patterns or zone out as they will. Founded by Mahk Rumbae, the Vienna-based project is meditative in the sense of basking in repetition, but flashes like the organ in the middle of “Saint” or the shimmy that takes hold in 18-minute closer “Dream Reaction” assure it doesn’t reside in one place for too much actual realtime, of which it’s easy to lose track when so much krautgazey flow is at hand. Beginning with ambience, “Ways of Seeing” leads the listener deeper into the aural chasm it seems to have opened, and the swirling echoes around take on a life of their own in the ecosystem of some vision of space rock that’s also happening under the ground — past and future merging as in the mellotron techno of “Memory Cage” — which any fool can tell you is where the good mushrooms grow. Dug-in, immersive, engaging if you let it be; Dim Electrics feels somewhat insular in its mind-expansion, but there’s plenty to go around if you can put yourself in the direction it’s headed.
A newcomer project from Kamil Ziółkowski, also known for his contributions as part of Polish heavy forerunners Spaceslug, the tone-forward approach of Mountain of Misery might be said to be informed by Ziółkowski‘s other project in opener “Not Away” or the penultimate “Climb by the Sundown,” with their languid vocals and slow-rolling tsunami fuzz in the spirit of heavy psych purveyors Colour Haze and even more to the point Sungrazer, but the howling guitar in the crescendo of closer “The Misery” and the all-out assault of “Hang So Low” distinguish the band all around. “The Rain is My Love” sways in the album’s middle, but it’s in “Circle in Roundness” that the 36-minute LP has its most subdued stretch, letting the spaces filled with fuzz elsewhere remain open as the verse builds atop the for-now-drumless expanse. Whatever familiar aspects persist, Mountain of Misery is its own band, and In Roundness is the exciting beginning of a new creative evolution.
The featured new single, “The Figure,” finds Barrie, Ontario’s Aawks somewhere between Canadian tonal lords Sons of Otis and the dense heavy psych riffing and melodic vocals of an act like Snail, and if you think I’m about to complain about that, you’ve very clearly never been to this site before. So hi, and welcome. The four-song Luna EP is Aawks‘ second short release of 2023 behind a split with Aiwass (review here), and the trio take on Flock of Seagulls and Pink Floyd for covers of the new wave radio hit “I Ran” and the psychedelic ur-classic “Julia Dream” before a live track, “All is Fine,” rounds out. As someone who’s never seen the band live, the additional crunch falls organic, and brings into relief the diversity Aawks show in and between these four songs, each of which inhabits a place in the emerging whole of the band’s persona. I don’t know if we’ll get there, but sign me up for the Canadian heavy revolution if this is the form it’s going to take.
The collaborative oeuvre of UK doomsperimental guitarist Mike Vest (Bong, Blown Out, Ozo, 11Paranoias, etc.) grows richer as he joins forces with Finnish trio Nolla to produce Kaliyuga Express‘ Warriors & Masters, which results in three tracks across two sides of far-out cosmic fuzz, shades of classic kraut and space rocks are wrought with jammy intention; the goal seeming to be the going more than the being gone as Vest and company burn through “Nightmare Dimensions” and the shoegazing “Behind the Veil” — the presence of vocals throughout is a distinguishing feature — hums in high and low frequencies in a repetitive inhale of stellar gases on side A while the 18:58 side B showdown “Endless Black Space” misdirects with a minute of cosmic background noise before unfurling itself across an exoplanet’s vision of cool and returning, wait for it, back to the drone from whence it came. Did you know stars are recycled all the time? Did you know that if you drop acid and peel your face off there’s another face underneath? Your third eye is googly. You can hear voices in the drones. Let me know what they tell you.
Posted in Whathaveyou on October 24th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Lots of Thin Lizzy, two Rush records, classic rock, heavy rock, grunge, Judas Priest, Aerosmith, big rock sounds like Boston, Dire Straits. More Thin Lizzy. Bruce Springsteen. Mob Rules. At the beginning of the video for “Sands of Time,” some of the members of Spidergawd are asked for the recipe that makes a record labeled ‘testpress’ that is presumably a copy of the band’s forthcoming album, VII, which is up for preorder now and out Nov. 10 on Crispin Glover Records and Stickman Records. It’s not an easy formula, but she ends up with a stack of records and there’s a twist ending that I won’t spoil for you.
I’m late on the news of the release and the video — it’s been a rough couple weeks; I do my best — but preorders I think are a recent advent, and that was what came through in the Stickman Records newsletter, which I know I’ve recommended before that you sign up because that label’s roster is absolutely vibrant and always has something cool going (Elder, King Buffalo, Temple Fang, Iron Jinn, Slomosa, Weedpecker, new offshoots like Weite or Full Earth, etc.) either in collaboration with anther label, as is the case here, or on their own. So yeah, here I am repeating myself: they don’t spam and it’s useful info. Plus, at least compared to my ass, you’d be ahead of the game. Some of this came from that, some came from Spidergawd‘s socials, and the video credits come from the video. All about sourcing lately, I guess.
Info, links, video — oh, and because it’s Spidergawd, there’s an entire slew of tour dates as well — follow here:
Spidergawd – VII On presale now – out November 10
Spidergawd have revealed their new full length coinciding with the band’s 10th anniversary. What’s changed over the years? As the band puts it themselves, “they have found THE recipe for what Spidergawd is all about.”
VII is an album full of tracks which are catchier, and indeed to a degree poppier, than ever before. Yet this element is matched by a significantly more “real” approach in production, which the band describes as “muddier, messier and bigger: everything that takes the listener closer to what’s going down on stage in a live Spidergawd performance.”
VII is available as a deluxe package including colored vinyl, a CD, a one-sided 7″ with etching and poster! We have two different color variants available.
(#128293#)Do check out our whole release tour & tickets here: linktr.ee/spidergawd
Tracklisting: 1. Sands Of Time 2. The Tower 3. Dinosaur 4. Bored To Death 5. Your Heritage 6. Afterburner 7. Anchor Song 8. …And Nothing But The Truth
Music video by Finn Walther Film Camera: Bjørn Ante Crispin Glover Record Shop Behind the counter: Ida Vie & Torgeir Lund Bulgarian Knutsen: Øystein Dolmen Little girl: Elina Music by Spidergawd (Spidergawd VII Album release 10.november 2023 – Crispin Glover Records / Stickman Records)
This week marks the release of White Tundra‘s self-titled debut full-length, as the three-piece hailing from New-Riff Norway (same Norway, new riffs) will issue the eight-tracker through All Good Clean Records. Running 40 minutes, White Tundra follows the 2021 single “Honningfella” (premiered here) and is a modern fuzz overdose, the trio of guitarist/vocalist Steven Kresin, lead guitarist Christoffer Kjørsvik (also album bass) and drummer Ola Fuglevaag crafting huge-sounding spaces with a mind for impact but not necessarily sticking to one methodology between that, as the careening, cowbell-inclusive shove of “Third Floor” demonstrates when set next to the midtempo “…Of the Eath” (premiering below) or the ambient intro “Fra Askeskog” that precedes eight-minute closer “Byting,” the persona of the band very much in line with an up-and-coming league of heavy acts, but the sound carrying a sense of severity one doesn’t always find in something so decisively not metal.
Shades of bands like Vokonis, Spaceslug, maybe a less frenetic Skraeckoedlan in some of their tones or a more frenetic Sungrazer with gravelly, echoing vocals if you want to look at it from the other side. The production is huge no matter how you approach White Tundra‘s White Tundra, and from the heavy post-rock sprawl of album-intro “Erwachen…” through the march and push of “…Of the Earth” they provide the depth in which one might immerse for the amp-frying duration and heft enough to keep the listener couch-locked, whether that the solo over the looped-sounding beat in the second half of “…Of the Earth” or the strident chug of “Find You,” which follows. By the time they get to “Addicted” and “Space Wars” in the middle of the album, they’ve effectively set the context in which the songs take place, and the lumber of “Space Wars” becomes the foundation for one of the record’s most entrancing explorations, a back and forth pattern through the tracklisting assuring that prior single “Third Floor” will keep momentum working in the band’s favor, which it does.
In “Third Floor,” “Space Wars,” “…Of the Earth” and certainly “Byting” and the ambient pieces, one can hear progressive aspects beginning to make themselves known in White Tundra‘s sound, and while one wouldn’t be surprised particularly to hear those come to further realization on subsequent releases, I’m not sure I’m willing to predict where the band will go and if they’ll bring the concrete-crunch tones that chug away in “Byting” with them. They could make five more records that sound just like this and be fine, but there’s growth from the single and the way their material functions throughout this initial collection lends the impression that they’re mindful of bringing variety to their songwriting — that they’re aware the songs they write can and do serve different purposes — which could be a big hint has to future direction and ambitions. Here, the production of Bismarck‘s Leif Herland brings out the physicality of White Tundra‘s crunch, representing their heft well for what will be a first impression for many who take them on. Wherever they may be headed stylistically, White Tundra is a debut worthy of the size of its own sound, and considering, that’s saying something.
Please enjoy “…Of the Earth” below, followed by a few words from the band, the preorder link, and so on:
White Tundra on “…Of the Earth”:
“…Of the Earth is the story of a new earth rising up in the aftermath of the old broken one. This is the second track on the album following the intro track Erwachen… (means “awakening” in German) which is a build-up to the rest of the album as well as …of the Earth. It was one of the first songs we wrote for the album and it kind of sets the tone for the rest of the album regarding to sound and songwriting with a bit more melodic riffs than we have produced before. This might be the most headbanging-friendly song on the album, and we are really happy with the groove on …of the Earth. The lyrics can be interpreted as either positive or pure doomsday prophecies depending on your mood.”
White Tundra has been around since 2018 with core members Ola Fuglevaag (drums) and Steven Kresin (vocals / guitar) as the creative driving forces behind White Tundra’s music. Despite some line up changes they have stayed true to their sound and continued writing and recording new music. The EP “Graveyard Blues” was released digitally in 2020 and on MC in 2021 and the 7” vinyl single “Honningfella” came out the same year. 2022 was spent recording their self titled debut album with new guitarist Christoffer Kjørsvik who also plays in Norwegian black metal band Sworn.
Produced by the band along with Leif Herland at Polyfon Studios, mastered by Rhys Marsh at Autumnsongs Recording Studio and featuring the artwork of Thomas Moe Ellefsrud from HypnotistDesign, “White Tundra” is set for release digitally and on vinyl on October 27th via All Good Clean Records.
Line-up: Steven Kresin: Vocals and guitar Christoffer Kjørsvik: Lead guitar (and bass guitar on the album) Ola Fuglevaag: Drums
Posted in Whathaveyou on October 11th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
It’s been a minute, but Norwegian trio White Tundra did a premiere here in 2021 for their single “Honningfella” and I recall digging it a lot. If you haven’t yet gotten on board with New Heavy Norway — acts like Slomosa, Dune Sea, Kryptograf, Kanaan, Bismarck (whose Leif Herland produced here), Saint Karloff, not to mention Black Moon Circle, SÂVER or Kal-El, the grandmasters Motorpsycho (not that they’re exactly ‘new’) or anyone else in the full musical spectrum of creativity taking place in the country as we speak, White Tundra right in it — I can only recommend doing so by whatever avenue you might choose to take to get there. It’s a vibrant underground, with scene pockets in Trondheim, Oslo, etc., and for the last several years it’s been churning out quality first and second records like they were lutefisk, and by the end of this decade, yeah, some of these acts will restructure, disband, and so on, but those that remain will be all the more strident.
Those are generalizations, if things I genuinely believe. To be more specific to White Tundra, the trio are getting set to release a self-titled LP at the end of this month through All Good Clean Records. It is, in fact, their debut, and the shove and semi-burl of “Third Floor” is the second single from it. Why didn’t I post the first? Because as I’ve been telling you for years now, I’m terrible at this. After you take a listen to the White Tundra track and maybe check out the other 10 Norwegian bands I just suggested, you should maybe think about taking your business elsewhere. Ha.
From the PR wire:
White Tundra – Norwegian Stoner Rock Trio Announce Self-Titled New Album
Release New Song “Third Floor”
October 27th through All Good Clean Records, the collective recently unveiled another song off the album through their Bandcamp page.
Produced by the band along with Leif Herland at Polyfon Studios, mastered by Rhys Marsh at Autumnsongs Recording Studio and featuring the artwork of Thomas Moe Ellefsrud from Hypnotist Design, “White Tundra” journeys through heavy atmospheric melodies, across the dusty tundra and through murky woods. Subtle pulses, inspired by black metal soundscapes White Tundra stays true to their earlier material’s orientation with accentuating pace and slow riffing. Pre-order the album and stream leading single Erwachen at this location.
White Tundra has been around since 2018 with core members Ola Fuglevaag (drums) and Steven Kresin (vocals / guitar) as the creative driving forces behind White Tundra’s music. Despite some line up changes they have stayed true to their sound and continued writing and recording new music. The EP “Graveyard Blues” was released digitally in 2020 and on MC in 2021 and the 7” vinyl single “Honningfella” came out the same year. 2022 was spent recording their self titled debut album with new guitarist Christoffer Kjørsvik who also plays in Norwegian black metal band Sworn.
Line-up: Steven Kresin: Vocals and guitar Christoffer Kjørsvik: Lead guitar (and bass guitar on the album) Ola Fuglevaag: Drums
I’m drinking coffee out of a different mug today. It may not surprise you to learn that I’m particular about that kind of thing. I have two mugs — one from Baltimore, one from Salem, Mass. — that are the same. They are huge, blue and black, and they curve slightly inward at the top. They can hold half of a 10-cup pot of coffee. I use one of them per day for a pot in the morning.
Not today. The Pecan gifted me a Mr. Spock mug — he’s in his dress uniform, so it’s likely based on the TOS episode ‘Journey to Babel,’ where we meet his parents for the first (our time) time — and it’s smaller and lighter in the hand, will require an extra trip up to the kitchen to finish the pot, but I think she’ll be glad to see me use it, and maybe that’ll help her get a decent start to the day in a bit when she comes downstairs.
Today’s the last day for this week of QR, but we dive back in on Monday and Tuesday to close out. Hope you find something you dig, and if I don’t catch you at the closeout post for the week, have a great weekend.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
Motorpsycho, Yay!
Long-running and prolific Norwegian prog rockers Motorpsycho have proven time and again their stylistic malleability across their north-of-100-strong catalog of releases, and comprised of 10 tracks running 42 minutes of acoustic-led-but-still-lushly-arranged, melodic and sometimes folkish craft. If you ever needed an argument that Motorpsycho could have been writing simplified, ultra-accessible, soundtrack-to-your-summer fare — and I’m not sure you have — Yay! provides that, with a classic feel in the harmonies of “Sentinels” and “Dank State,” though the lyrics in that last cut and in pieces like the leadoff “Cold & Bored,” the later isolated strummer “Real Again (Norway Shrugs and Stays at Home)” and in the lost-love-themed “Loch Meaninglessness and the Mull of Dull” have a cynical current to their framing contrasts that the outwardly pretty face lent to it by the Paul Simon-style lead vocals from Bent Sæther (also guitar, mandolin, omnichord here and more elsewhere). If the record is a gimme for an audience looking for a more earthbound Motorpsycho, then the arrival of the 7:46 “Hotel Daedalus” is where they give a nod to the heavier heads in their fanbase, with one of several guest spots from Reine Fiske (Dungen, Träden, etc.) and a shift in the balance between electric and acoustic guitar and synth at the foreground. Standout as that is, it’s also consistent with the spirit of Yay! more generally, which is built to be more complex in emotion than it presents on its face, and the work of masters, whether they’re writing longform prog epics or sweet closer “The Rapture,” which paints the change of seasons through an image of unmelted leftover snow “sulking in the shade.” One should expect no less than that kind of reach and attention to expression, and one should never engage Motorpsycho with expectations beyond that.
“Apollo,” which was the first single released by Severed Satellites, opens the Baltimore instrumentalists’ first EP, Aphelion, as well, its uptempo blues-informed groove an enticing beginning before “Lost Transmissions” digs further into riffer nod. With five tracks running 27 minutes, Severed Satellites — guitarist Matt Naas, keyboardist Dave Drell, bassist Adam Heinzmann and drummer Chuck Dukehart, the latter two both of heavy rockers Foghound, among others — offer material that’s built out of jamming but that is not itself the jam. Songs, in other words. Recorded by Noel Mueller at Tiny Castle Studio, the EP proves solid through “Lost Transmissions” and the bassier “Hurtling Toward Oblivion” with its ending comedown leading into the coursing keyboard waveform at the start of “Breaking Free From Orbit,” which is the longest inclusion at 7:21 and uses most of that extra time in the intro, building afterward toward a ’70s strutting apex that puts energy ahead of largesse before the keys lead the way out in the two-minute outro “Reaching Aphelion.” Through the variety in the material, Severed Satellites showcase a persona that knows what it’s about and presents that fluidly to the listener with a minimum of indulgence. A rousing start.
The collaboration between baritone/bass guitarist Martin Rude, drummer Jakob Skøtt, both also of Danish psych-jazz and psych-as-jazz explorers Causa Sui, and guitarist Nicklas Sørensen of molten-but-mellow jammers Papir, Edena Gardens issue their first and perhaps not last live album in Live Momentum, a three-song set taped at Jaiyede Jazz Festival — their first onstage appearance — in 2022 and pressed concurrent to the second Edena Gardens studio full-length, Agar (review here) while still not so far removed from their 2022 self-titled debut (review here). “Veil” from the sophomore LP opens, with a thicker guitar sound and more active delivery from the stage, a heavier presence in the guitar early on, hinting at Link Wray and sounding clear enough that the applause at the end is a surprise. Taken from the self-titled, “Now Here Nowhere” is more soothing and post-rocking in its languidity — also shorter at seven minutes — an active but not overbearing jazz fusion, while side B’s 17-minute “Live Momentum” would seem to be the occasion for the release. Exploratory at the start, it settles into a groove that’s outright bombastic in comparison to the other two tracks, brings down the jam and pushes it out, growing in volume again late for a slow, howling finish. What should be a no-brainer to those who’ve heard the band, Live Momentum portrays a side of Edena Gardens that their ‘proper’ albums — which is also where new listeners should begin — hasn’t yet shown, which is no doubt why it was issued to start with. Only fortunate.
Following up 2022’s What Lies Beneath (review here) and the intervening covers collection, Cover Ups, and the Crack the Lock EP, prolific Pennsylvania heavy rock outfit Delco Detention, led by the son/father duo of Tyler and Adam Pomerantz return with their Come and Get It! is suitably exclamatory fashion. The nine-track collection is headlined by a guest guitar spot from Earthless‘ Isaiah Mitchell on “Earthless Delco” near the album’s middle, but stop-bys from familiar parties like Kevin McNamara and Mike DiDonato of The Age of Truth and Jared Collins of Mississippi Bones, among others, assure diversity in the material around the foundation of groovy heavy rock. Clutch remain a strong influence — and the record finishes with a take on “I Have the Body of John Wilkes Booth” — but the fuzzy four minutes of the penultimate “Rock and Roll God” and the swing in opener “Domagoj Simek Told Me Quitters Never Smoke” continue to show the band’s growth in refining their songwriting process and aligning the right performers with the right songs, which they do.
The second full-length from Montana heavy-funk shenanigans purveyors The Gray Goo, Circus Nightmare, sounds like there’s a story to go along with every song, whether it’s the tale of “Nightstocker” no doubt based on a 24-hour grocery store, or the smoke-weed-now anthem “Pipe Hitter” that so purposefully and blatantly takes on Sleep‘s “Dragonaut,” or even the interlude “Cerulean” with its backward wisps of guitar leading into the dreamy-Ween-esque, Beatles-reference-dropping “Cosmic Sea,” or the Primus-informed absurdity of “Alligator Bundee,” which leads off, and the garage punk that caps in “Out of Sight (Out of Mind).” Equal parts brilliant and dopey, “BEP” is a brief delve into surf-toned weirdness while “Wizards of the Mountain” pays off the basement doom of “Pipe Hitter” just before with its raw-captured slowdown, organ included in its post-midpoint creep and “Cumbia de Montana” is perhaps more dub than South American-style mountain jamming — though there’s a flute — but if you want to draw a line and tell me where one ends and another starts, I won’t argue. Bottom line is that after an encouraging start in last year’s 1943 (review here), The Gray Goo are more sure of themselves and more sure of the planet’s ridiculousness. May they long remain so certain and productive. Heavy rock needs more oddballs.
It’s like they packed it with extra nasty. The seven-song/27-minute Shit Hexis is the debut offering from Saarbrücken, Germany’s Shit Hexis, and it stabs, it scathes, it skin-peels and not in the refreshing way. Flaying extreme sludge riffs presented with the cavernous echo and murky purposes of black metal, it is a filthy sound but not completely un-cosmic as “Latrine Odins” feedsback and lumbers through its 92 seconds, or “Erde” drone-plods at terrifying proportion. On paper, Shit Hexis share a mindset with the likes of Come to Grief or even earlier Yatra in bringing together tonal weight with aesthetics born out of the more extreme ends of heavy metal, but their sharp angles, harsh tones and the echoing rasp of “Le Mort Saisit le Vif” are their own. Not that fucking matters, because when you’re this disaffected you probably don’t give a shit about originality either. But as their first release of any kind, even less than a half-hour of exposure seems likely to cause a reaction, and if you’re ever somewhere that you need people not to be, the misanthropic, loathing-born gurgling of “Mkwekm” should do the trick in clearing a room. This, of course, is as the duo of guitarist/vocalist Mo and drummer Pat designed it to be, and so, wretched as it is, their self-titled can only be called a success. But what a vision thereof.
That Sacramento, California, two-piece Oromet — guitarist/vocalist/layout specialist Dan Aguilar and drummer/bassist/synthesist/backing vocalist/engineer Patrick Hills — have a pedigree between them that shares time in Occlith accounts for some of the unity of intent on the grandly-unfolding death-doom outfit’s self-titled three-song Transylvanian Recordings debut full-length. Side A is dedicated solely to the opener/longest track (immediate points) “Familiar Spirits” (22:00), which quiets down near the finish to end in a contemplative/reflective drone, and earlier positions Oromet among the likes of Dream Undending or Bell Witch in an increasingly prevalent, yet-untagged mournful subset of death-doom. “Diluvium” (11:31) and “Alpenglow” (10:07) follow suit, the former basking in the beauty in its own darkness and sounding duly astounded as it pounds its way toward a sudden stop to let the residual frequencies swell before carrying into the latter, which is gloriously tortured for its first six minutes and comes apart slowly thereafter, having found a place to dwell in the melodic aftermath. Crushing spiritually even as it reaffirms the validity of that pain, it is an affecting listening experience that can be overwhelming at points, but its extremity never feels superfluous or disconnected from the sorrowful emotionality of the songs themselves.
Each of the four tracks of Le Mur‘s fourth record, Keep Your Fear Away From Me, corresponds to a place in time and point of view. That is, we start in the past with 15-minute leadoff “…The Past Will Be Perfect…” — and please note that the band’s name is also stylized all-caps where album and song titles are all-lowercase — moving through “Today is the Day/The Beauty of Now” (9:27) in the present and “Another Life/Burning the Tree/I See You” (11:19) confirming the subjectivity of one’s experience of self and the world, and closer “…For the Puzzles of the Future.” (12:12) finishing the train of thought by looking at the present from a time to come. Samples peppered throughout add to the otherwise mostly instrumental proceedings, focused on flow and at least semi-improvised, and horns on the opener/longest cut (immediate points) sets a jazzy mindset that holds even as “Another Life/Burning the Tree/I See You” forays through its three-stage journey, starting with a shimmy before growing ever-so-slightly funky in the middle and finishing acoustic, while the (electric) guitar on “…For the Puzzles of the Future.” seems to have saved its letting loose for the final jam, emerging out of the keyboardy intro and sample to top a raucous, fun finish.
Pushing through sax-laced, dug-in space jamming, Tunisia’s 10-20 Project reportedly recorded Snakes Go Dark to Soak in the Sun during the pandemic lockdown, perhaps in a bid just to do anything during July 2020. Removed from that circumstance, the work of the core duo of guitarist Marwen Lazaar and bassist Dhia Eddine Mejrissi as well as a few friends — drummer Manef Zoghlemi, saxophonist Ghassen Abdelghani and Mohammed Barsaoui on didgeridoo — present a three-track suite that oozes between liquid and vaporous states of matter across “Chutney I” (25:06), “Chutney II” (14:32) and “Chutney III” (13:00), which may or may not have actually been carved out of the same extended jam. From the interweaving of the sax alongside the guitar in the mix of the opener through the hand-drumming in the middle cut and “Chutney III” picking up with an active rhythm after the two pieces prior took their time in building quietly, plus some odd vocalizations included for good measure, the 52-minute outing gets its character from the exploratory meld in their arrangements and the loose nature with which they seem to approach composition generally. It is not a challenge to be entranced by Snakes Go Dark to Soak in the Sun, as even 10-20 Project seem to have been during its making.
If one assumes that “Side A” (19:58) and “Side B” (20:01) of Landing‘s are the edited-down versions of what appeared as part of the Connecticut ambient psych troupe’s Bandcamp ‘Subscriber Series Collection 02’ as “Motionless I-III” (29:56) and “Motionless IV-VI” (27:18), then perhaps yes, the Sulatron Records-issued Motionless I-VI has been markedly altered to accommodate the LP format. The (relatively) concise presentation, however, does little to undercut either the floating cosmic acoustics and drones about halfway through the first side or the pastoral flight taken in “Side B” before the last drone seems to devour the concept with especially cinematic drama. Whereas when there are drums in “Side A” the mood is more krautrock or traditional space rock, the second stretch of Motionless I-VI is more radical in its changes while still being gentle in its corner turning from one to the next, as heard with the arrival of the electric guitar that fades in at around six and a half minutes and merrily chugs through the brightly-lit serenity of what might’ve at some point been “Motionless V” and here is soon engulfed in a gradual fade that brings forward the already-mentioned drone. There’s more going on under the surface than at it — and that dimension of mix is crucial to Landing‘s methodology — but Motionless I-VI urges the listener to appreciate each element in its place, and is best heard doing that.
[Click play above to stream Black Moon Circle’s Leave the Ghost Behind in its entirety. Album is out tomorrow on vinyl through Crispin Glover Records and available to order from the band as well as from the label.]
The feeling of sprawl is almost immediate on Black Moon Circle‘s Leave the Ghost Behind. It’s been half a decade since the Norwegian trio last released a full-length, and 2018’s Psychedelic Spacelord (review here) served as the single-song culmination of a wildly productive few years for the band led by brothers Øyvin Engan (bass/vocals) and Vemond Engan (guitar/backing vocals). In 2019, they collected the three The Studio Jams LP releases — 2017’s The Studio Jams Vol. III: Flowing into the 3rd Dimension (review here), 2016’s The Studio Jams Vol. II (review here), 2015’s The Studio Jams Vol. I: Yellow Nebula in the Sky(discussed here) — and a bunch more into a 5CD box set, and they count Leave the Ghost Behind as their ’10th effort,’ which is fair enough, but in the lineage of albums, it follows Psychedelic Spacelord, 2016’s Sea of Clouds (review here), 2014’s Andromeda (review here) and self-titled debut EP (review here), and 2019’s collaboration with Øresund Space Collective, Freakout in the Fjord (review here), which likewise was more of a jam-based release.
Why does that matter? Because since their outset, there have always been two forces at work in Black Moon Circle between improvised space-jamming and more structured songwriting, and in Leave the Ghost Behind, the two ends come together in a way that feels new for the band. Coming together with the lineup of the Engans, drummer Tomas Järmyr (ex-Motorpsycho, Årabrot, etc.) and Portugal-based synthesist Scott “Dr. Space” Heller (also Øresund Space Collective), the now-four-piece are vibrant across the four sides of a massive 85-minute 2LP that smooths out all the back and forth with washes of guitar, of synth, of the wandering grooves in extended pieces like the 18:29 “Psychedelic Spacelord (Lighter Than Air)” — yes, a take on the title-track of the 2018 LP; just go with it — and closer “Radiant Sun,” which at 22:52 is a multi-tiered universe of heavy psychedelic exploration. But it’s opener “Snake Oil,” with that sprawl noted at the outset, that sets the scene for what follows. Its 11 minutes are hypnotic at the start, Sabbathian doom wrought across the first minute or so with synth laid over top before the bass leads the way into the nodding repetitive chug that serves as the bed for the verse.
That shift, nod to nod, is huge in setting the expectation for Black Moon Circle to go where they will, because that’s exactly what they proceed to do, both in that song and over the rest of the record. “Bubbles in the Air” is duly floating ’90s post-grunge psych, and the shortest cut at 5:17, a drumless dream, while “Serpent” gives the proggier side of King Buffalo a burst of cosmic radiation, with Heller‘s synth running alongside the steady line of guitar even before the jazzy build begins on the drums, the song emphasizing both the instrumental dynamic of the band and the gruff melody in Øyvin‘s vocals as set forth in “Snake Oil” before it.
After deep-diving into “Psychedelic Spacelord (Lighter Than Air)” and “Bubbles in the Air,” side C’s “Cohiba” (9:20) feels absolutely grounded at the start, but is dug into a particularly improv-sounding jam with the bass as the foundation by the time they’re halfway in, and after they bring it back down to just that same guitar line and synth, its final minute becomes a willful drone and feedback — maybe some seagull sounds or just bird-esque synth? — that fades out before “Magellanic Cloud” announces its presence with further sci-fi ambience and drone for about the first two of its 10 total minutes, from there following a psych-bluesy course, guitar leading, bass underscoring, drums meeting back at the start of the measure but doing their thing along the way, the trajectory plotted but the journey duly winding, vocals never left entirely behind even in its synth-laced crescendo starting at around its final 90 seconds and just long enough for that to feel classic in its payoff.
“Magellanic Cloud” is a fitting analogue for what Leave the Ghost Behind as a whole accomplishes in bringing together the heretofore more divergent aspects of Black Moon Circle‘s aural persona. Certainly their willingness to experiment is nothing new, and that’s heard at the start, and they’ve had verses and choruses and jams a-plenty throughout the last nine years — if not so much the last four — but it’s the manner in which they’re assembled and the cohesion that emerges in the material as a result that is such a step forward, both in the songs themselves, whether it’s “Magellanic Cloud” or “Snake Oil” or “Psychedelic Spacelord (Lighter Than Air),” or “Serpent” and “Bubbles in the Air” and “Cohiba.” The balance has become a malleable thing.
And given the band’s ever-outward course, the finish that “Radiant Sun” provides is a letting-loose that draws from all sides, melts it all down with the scorch of its various solos, grows moss with its wash circa 14 minutes in, and from there becomes a cinematic weirdscape as Järmyr drops out on drums with a few crashes about a minute later, leaving amp noise, organ and synth to rule the day for a few minutes while sneaking back in on the ride cymbal after the vocals return at 19:10, beginning the transition to the largesse of the capstone movement, a cleareyed chorus taking hold after 21 minutes as a genuine surprise of airy heavy rock that earns the song’s title before giving over to the concluding noise; a snare snaps and then it’s drone to an ending that somehow feels quick after the long path walked to get there.
Leave the Ghost Behind is not at all a minor undertaking, and its exultation could be rooted in a call for self-actualizing post-trauma as much as letting go of one’s expectations for oneself — if those aren’t the same thing — but one way or the other, what Black Moon Circle leave behind is the sense of being one thing or the other between songwriters and a psychedelic jam band. These seven songs are substantial and drawn wide over the distances they conjure, but switched on in terms of more than just their effects pedals, and they represent a pivotal moment for the band in laying claim to the entirety of their process as one engrossing whole from which they can still expand.
I’m not saying they’ll never do a collection of jams again, or that they’ll never put out a record that’s eight songs and 38 minutes long, I’m saying the fun part is they can do either, both, or neither and that those who take them on won’t know what’s coming until they get there. If Leave the Ghost Behind represents a return to activity on the part of Black Moon Circle after a few years’ absence, or if it’s the culmination of work done throughout those few years — I honestly don’t know which, if it’s even one or the other — it’s a vital showcase of the promise laid out across their earlier run, approached with a vision and consciousness behind it that makes it all the more a triumph.
