Day four of five for this snuck-in-before-the-end-of-the-year Quarterly Review, and I’m left wondering if maybe it won’t be worth booking another week for January or early February, and if that happens, is it still “quarterly” at that point if you do it like six times a year? ‘Bimonthly Quality Control Assessments’ coming soon! Alert your HR supervisors to tell your servers of any allergies.

No, not really.

I’ll figure out a way to sandwich more music into this site if it kills me. Which I guess it might. Whatever, let’s do this thing.

Quarterly Review #31-40

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Sergeant Thunderhoof, The Ghost of Badon Hill

A marked accomplishment in progressive heavy rock, The Ghost of Badon Hill is the fifth full-length from UK five-piece Sergeant Thunderhoof, who even without the element of surprise on their side — which is to say one is right to approach the 45-minute six-tracker with high expectations based on the band’s past work; their last LP was 2022’s This Sceptred Veil (review here)  — rally around a folklore-born concept and deliver the to-date album of their career. From the first emergence of heft in “Badon” topped with Daniel Flitcroft soar-prone vocals, Sergeant Thunderhoof — guitarists Mark Sayer and Josh Gallop, bassist Jim Camp and drummer Darren Ashman, and the aforementioned Flitcroft — confidently execute their vision of a melodic riffprog scope. The songs have nuance and character, the narrative feels like it moves through the material, there are memorable hooks and grand atmospheric passages. It is by its very nature not without some indulgent aspects, but also a near-perfect incarnation of what one might ask it to be.

Sergeant Thunderhoof on Facebook

Pale Wizard Records store

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Swallow the Sun, Shining

The stated objective of Swallow the Sun‘s Shining was for less misery, and fair enough as the Finnish death-doomers have been at it for about a quarter of a century now and that’s a long time to feel so resoundingly wretched, however relatably one does it. What does less-misery sound like? First of all, still kinda miserable. If you know Swallow the Sun, they are still definitely recognizable in pieces like “Innocence Was Long Forgotten,” “What I Have Become” and “MelancHoly,” but even the frontloading of these singles — don’t worry, from “Kold” and the ultra Type O Negative-style “November Dust” (get it?), to the combination of floating, dancing keyboard lines and drawn out guitars in the final reaches of the title-track, they’re not short on highlights — conveys the modernity brought into focus. Produced by Dan Lancaster (Bring Me the Horizon, A Day to Remember, Muse), the songs are in conversation with the current sphere of metal in a way that Swallow the Sun have never been, broadening the definition of what they do while retaining a focus on craft. They’re professionals.

Swallow the Sun on Facebook

Century Media website

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Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships, The Mind Like Fire Unbound

Where’s the intermittently-crushing sci-fi-concept death-stoner, you ask? Well, friend, Lincoln, Nebraska’s Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships would like to have a word, and on The Mind Like Fire Unbound, there’s a non-zero chance that word will come in the form of layered death metal growls and rasping throatripper screams representing an insectoid species about to tear more-melodically-voiced human colonizers to pieces. The 45-minute LP’s 14-minute opener “BUGS” that lays out this warning is followed by the harsh, cosmic-paranoia conjuration of “Dark Forest” before a pivot in 8:42 centerpiece “Infinite Inertia” — and yes, the structure of the tracks is purposeful; longest at the open and close with shorter pieces on either side of “Infinite Inertia” — takes the emotive cast of Pallbearer to an extrapolated psychedelic metalgaze, huge and broad and lumbering. Of course the contrast is swift in the two-minute “I Hate Space,” but where one expects more bludgeonry, the shortest inclusion stays clean vocally amid its uptempo, Torche-but-not-really push. Organ joins the march in the closing title-track (14:57), which gallops following its extended intro, doom-crashes to a crawl and returns to double-kick behind the encompassing last solo, rounding out with suitable showcase of breadth and intention.

Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships on Facebook

Trillion Ton Beryllium Ships on Bandcamp

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Planet of Zeus, Afterlife

Planet of Zeus make a striking return with their sixth album, Afterlife, basing their theme around mythologies current and past and accompanying that with a sound that’s both less brash than they were a few years back on 2019’s Faith in Physics (review here) and refined in the sharpness and efficiency of its songwriting. It’s a rocker, which is what one has come to expect from these Athens-based veterans. Afterlife builds momentum through desert-style rockers like “Baptized in His Death” and the hooky “No Ordinary Life” and “The Song You Misunderstand,” getting poppish in the stomp of “Bad Milk” only after the bluesy “Let’s Call it Even” and before the punkier “Letter to a Newborn,” going where it wants and leaving no mystery as to how it’s getting there because it doesn’t need to. One of the foremost Greek outfits of their generation, Planet of Zeus show up, tell you what they’re going to do, then do it and get out, still managing to leave behind some atmospheric resonance in “State of Non-Existence.” There’s audible, continued forward growth and kickass tunes. If that sounds pretty ideal, it is.

Planet of Zeus on Facebook

Planet of Zeus on Bandcamp

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Human Teorema, Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet

Cinematic in its portrayal, Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet positions itself as cosmically minded, and manifests that in sometimes-minimal — effectively so, since it’s hypnotic — aural spaciousness, but Paris’ Human Teorema veer into Eastern-influenced scales amid their exploratory, otherworldly-on-purpose landscaping, and each planet on which they touch down, from “Onirico” (7:43) to “Studiis” (15:54) and “Spedizione” (23:20) is weirder than the last, shifting between these vast passages and jammier stretches still laced with synth. Each piece has its own procession and dynamic, and perhaps the shifts in intent are most prevalent within “Studiis,” but the closer is, on the balance, a banger as well, and there’s no interruption in flow once you’ve made the initial choice to go with Le Premier Soleil de Jan Calet. An instrumental approach allows Human Teorema to embody descriptive impressions that words couldn’t create, and when they decide to hit it hard, they’re heavy enough for the scale they’ve set. Won’t resonate universally (what does?), but worth meeting on its level.

Human Teorema on Instagram

Sulatron Records store

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Caged Wolves, A Deserts Tale

There are two epics north of the 10-minute mark on Caged Wolves‘ maybe-debut LP, A Deserts Tale: “Lost in the Desert” (11:26) right after the intro “Dusk” and “Chaac” (10:46) right before the hopeful outro “Dawn.” The album runs a densely-packed 48 minutes through eight tracks total, and pieces like the distortion-drone-backed “Call of the Void,” the alt-prog rocking “Eleutheromania,” “Laguna,” which is like earlier Radiohead in that it goes somewhere on a linear build, and the spoken-word-over-noise interlude “The Lost Tale” aren’t exactly wanting for proportion, regardless of runtime. The bassline that opens “Call of the Void” alone would be enough to scatter orcs, but that still pales next to “Chaac,” which pushes further and deeper, topping with atmospheric screams and managing nonetheless to come out of the other side of that harsh payoff of some of the album’s most weighted slog in order to bookend and give the song the finish it deserves, completing it where many wouldn’t have been so thoughtful. This impression is writ large throughout and stands among the clearest cases for A Deserts Tale as the beginning of a longer-term development.

Caged Wolves on Facebook

Tape Capitol Music store

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Anomalos Kosmos, Liminal Escapism

I find myself wanting to talk about how big Liminal Escapism sounds, but I don’t mean in terms of tonal proportion so much as the distances that seem to be encompassed by Greek progressive instrumentalists Anomalos Kosmos. With an influence from Grails and, let’s say, 50 years’ worth of prog rock composition (but definitely honoring the earlier end of that timeline), Anomalos Kosmos offer emotional evocation in pieces that feel compact on either side of six or seven minutes, taking the root jams and building them into structures that still come across as a journey. The classy soloing in “Me Orizeis” and synthy shimmer of “Parapatao,” the rumble beneath the crescendo of “Kitonas” and all of that gosh darn flow in “Flow” speak to a songwriting process that is aware of its audience but feels no need to talk down, musically speaking, to feed notions of accessibility. Instead, the immersion and energetic drumming of “Teledos” and the way closer “Cigu” rallies around pastoral fuzz invite the listener to come along on this apparently lightspeed voyage — thankfully not tempo-wise — and allow room for the person hearing these sounds to cast their own interpretations thereof.

Anomalos Kosmos on Facebook

Anomalos Kosmos on Bandcamp

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Pilot Voyager, Grand Fractal Orchestra

One could not hope to fully encapsulate an impression here of nearly three and a half hours of sometimes-improv psych-drone, and I refuse to feel bad for not trying. Instead, I’ll tell you that Grand Fractal Orchestra — the Psychedelic Source Records 3CD edition of which has already sold out — finds Budapest-based guitarist Ákos Karancz deeply engaged in the unfolding sounds here. Layering effects, collaborating with others from the informal PSR collective like zitherist Márton Havlik or singer Krisztina Benus, and so on, Karancz constructs each piece in a way that feels both steered in a direction and organic to where the music wants to go. “Ore Genesis” gets a little frantic around the middle but finds its chill, “Human Habitat” is duly foreboding, and the two-part, 49-minute-total capper “Transforming Time to Space” is beautiful and meditative, like staring at a fountain with your ears. It goes without saying not everybody has the time or the attention span to sit with a release like this, but if you take it one track at a time for the next four years or so, there’s worlds enough in these songs that they’ll probably just keep sinking in. And if Karancz puts outs like five new albums in that time too, so much the better.

Pilot Voyager on Instagram

Psychedelic Source Records on Bandcamp

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Blake Hornsby, A Village of Many Springs

It probably goes without saying — at least it should — that while the classic folk fingerplucking of “Whispering Waters” and the Americana-busy “Laurel Creek Blues” give a sweet introduction to Blake Hornsby‘s A Village of Many Springs, inevitably it’s the 23-minute experimentalist spread of the finale, “Bury My Soul in the Linville River,” that’s going to be a focal point for many listeners, and fair enough. The earthbound-cosmic feel of that piece, its devolution into Lennon-circa-1968 tape noise and concluding drone, aren’t at all without preface. A Village of Many Springs gets weirder as it goes, with the eight-minute “Cathedral Falls” building over its time into a payoff of seemingly on-guitar violence, and the subsequent “O How the Water Flows” nestling into a sweet spot between Appalachian nostalgia and foreboding twang. There’s percussion and manipulation of noise later, too, but even in its repetition, “O How the Water Flows” continues Hornsby‘s trajectory. For what’s apparently an ode to water in the region surrounding Hornsby‘s home in Asheville, North Carolina, that it feels fluid should be no surprise, but by no means does one need to have visited Laurel Creek to appreciate the blues Hornsby conjures for them.

Blake Hornsby on Facebook

Echodelick Records website

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Congulus, G​ö​ç​ebe

With a sensibility in some of the synth of “Hacamat” born of space rock, Congulus have no trouble moving from that to the 1990s-style alt-rock saunter of “Diri Bir Nefes,” furthering the momentum already on the Istanbul-based instrumentalist trio’s side after opener “İskeletin Düğün Halayı” before “Senin Sırlarının Yenilmez Gücünü Gördüm” spaces out its solo over scales out of Turkish folk and “Park” marries together the divergent chugs of Judas Priest and Meshuggah, there’s plenty of adventure to be had on Göç​ebe. It’s the band’s second full-length behind 2019’s Bozk​ı​r — they’ve had short releases between — and it moves from “Park” into the push of “Zarzaram” and “Vordonisi” with efficiency that’s only deceptive because there’s so much stylistic range, letting “Ulak” have its open sway and still bash away for a moment or two before “Sonunda Ah Çekeriz Derinden” closes by tying space rock, Mediterranean traditionalism and modern boogie together in one last jam before consigning the listener back to the harsher, decidedly less utopian vibes of reality.

Congulus on Facebook

Congulus on Bandcamp

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Embroiled in an outbound interstellar thrust from pretty much the not-literally-said word ‘go’ on “Palim Palim,” Speck‘s debut album, Unkraut, takes a linear trajectory as it reels unbounded through the universe, undulating and careening as it goes. It’s not all raucous come-with-us antigrav thrust from the Vienna, Austria, three-piece, who released Unkraut on their own in 2021 and followed up with an issue through Tonzonen in 2022, but Patrick Säuerl‘s drums enact a vitality on “Palim Palim,” not quite the neo-space metal of Slift or King Gizzard or whichever big modern psych act you want to name, and more rooted in the European heavy underground of the last 20-plus years, with bassist Lisa Winkelmüller doing fretruns around the intermittent solo divergences of guitarist Marcel Cultrera — aware of and willing to be adjacent to heavy psychedelia as a genre — but as they hit the brakes going into the brief comedown “II” after “Palim Palim,” a grand mellowing that picks up in tempo around the guitar in jammy style before the halfway point and builds up from there to a noisy crescendo and is brought down again, the movement is no less fluid.

Ebbs and flows should be nothing new to those with any familiarity to instrumental heavy music, but as they seem to be making efforts to distinguish their approach from the history and methods of krautrock — at least that’s what I get from Unkraut as a title; if that interpretation is off, I’d love to be gently informed in a comment — what’s letting them do that most of all is the showcase of raw chemistry in the sound of the 37-minute outing’s five component tracks. It’s a difficult niche to pin down, as the likes of Hawkwind, Colour Haze, Earthless or Sula Bassana (with whom Cultrera now collaborates in Minerall) could be cited as influences depending on a given moment, whether it’s the space rock call to prayer in the strum of the centerpiece title-track or the subsequent “Firmament,” which is no less expansive in reach but is much quieter as it goes about its exploratory business. That pair, “Unkraut” and “Firmament,” echo the dynamic between “Palim Palim” and “II,” in being a more active piece followed by something comparatively less of a push, but as “Unkraut” caps its blowout finish — an apex for the album that closer “Megachonk ∞” answers by riding a full-go groove for most of its eight minutes — and “Firmament” sets itself to answering back, the line they draw from one side to the other of their sound is longer and the music accordingly broader in scope.

To wit, where “II” is the shortest inclusion at 4:50 and tied to a build structure despite being executed organically enough that if you told me it was an unplotted jam and the band had no idea where they were headed when they picked up their instruments and hit record, it would be believable. I don’t know that that is or isn’t the case, but the way “Firmament” — which like the rest of the songs is just a little over eight minutes long — delves deeper into subdued, meditative psychedelics, it doesn’t have that payoff. After “Unkraut,” “Firmament” subtly hypnotizes almost before the listener understands what has happened; its quiet outset emerges smoothly from the comedown of the title-track and reroutes from the expected path of another ‘heavier’ stretch by simply doing something else. Crazy, right? I know, but it works all the more because it puts “Megachonk ∞,” which even seems to have a little bit of vocals snuck into its procession, where that payoff might otherwise be. To (hopefully) make it clear: “Firmament” ends up complementing the song after it as much as the song before it precisely because it doesn’t lose the plot. If one thinks of “Palim Palim” and “II” as a kind of encapsulated demonstration for the movement across “Unkraut,” “Firmament” and “Megachonk ∞,” it’s kind of like that in listening, but that doesn’t account for “Unkraut” being on side A of the vinyl edition.

Neither does it invalidate the impression, especially for those taking Unkraut on digitally, say, via the stream above. This hill-before-a-mountain character suits the fluidity of Speck‘s material overall, and the nuance they bring to it in the rhythmic warmth and the sense of purpose that emerges from the changes and how they’re made give the album an individual persona within a well-established style. By the time they’re two or three minutes into “Megachonk ∞,” they’ve made their intention pretty clear in carrying forward a shove to the finish. There’s a momentary break for some far-off echoing semi-spoken vocals, almost egging the instruments on, or maybe the listener, some grunts in there, but the instrumental kickback is quick to arrive and sweeps to the wammy-inclusive screaming peak of “”Megachonk ∞” that gives over when it’s good and ready to the residual noise that provides a satisfying wash at the end. The sense that the band could just keep going is palpable, but that they don’t, that they keep it relatively brief and in prime LP length, demonstrates a control and restraint on their sound that only further speaks to the purposefulness behind what Unkraut does.

Did it reinvent krautrock? I wouldn’t be the one to ask, but it is decidedly other from it while touching on its methods and modus. But the relatively straightforward arrangements — there are plenty of effects throughout but so far as I know Speck don’t delve into the world of keyboards let alone vintage-worship or anything like that — keep a human cure in these songs, and that grounds them as well, as much as they’re grounded at all. Speck have continued to progress along these lines over the last couple years, in their 2023 split with Interkosmos (review here), second full-length, Eine Gute Reise, and participation in earlier-2024’s International Space Station Vol. 2 (review here) four-way split at the behest of Worst Bassist Records, and nothing they’ve done to this point has shown any signs of their growth slowing. Amid a generational turnover in the heavy underground, Speck‘s Unkraut presents a fresh perspective and, crucially, an immersive plunge for the listener to take. To close, I’ll note that I didn’t fully appreciate how much Speck had to offer until I saw them live at this past summer’s Freak Valley Festival (review here), of which their set was an absolute highlight. A band to catch if you can make it happen.

As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.

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Hey, it’s the first Friday Full-Length in, what, four weeks? Turns out I still do this. I had to wonder for a minute if I’d ever get it back on track. Last Friday was my daughter’s birthday, as I noted last weekend, and the two Fridays prior were in an ongoing Quarterly Review, so yeah, I guess this would’ve been four weeks without one if I let it slip. Rest assured this brought about an existential crisis. Who even am I if I don’t spend my Friday morning clacking away on the laptop keyboard about some record I probably should’ve written up years ago? Fortunately that’s not a question I’ll need to answer this week.

Last night was Halloween. Holy smokes. First we had the Halloween parade at The Pecan’s school. For that one, she wore the black hole costume her grandmother made — black shirt and pants, with a hula hoop covered in fiery-looking fabric she could wear around her for an accretion disk — and of course that won the prize for the best costume in her grade. The Patient Mrs. and I ended up being dragged into a video the principal of the school made — it’ll come in an email, if I can link it here I will; no doubt it will be hilarious — before the parade actually even happened. Then all the classes came out and did the parade around the blacktop behind the school while the corresponding adults made fools of ourselves gaggling at the children. So it goes. The good news is it was 80 degrees and sunny. The bad news is that means the world is ending.

Then we got home. Costume change from black hole to Link from Breath of the Wild — blue tunic — for The Pecan. She saw a kid last weekend at the neighborhood Halloween parade — parents have invented ways to use a costume more than once in the time since I was a kid; it is strange and I’m pretty sure my daughter’s generation will decide it’s not worth it — dressed as Link with a Master Sword and shield and just about lost her mind. Couldn’t take her eyes off it. We ended up driving last Saturday afternoon to Edgewater, NJ, like 50 minutes, to a Party City to buy the sword and shield, and The Patient Mrs. was able to secure a costume, plus acceptable boots, from the internet in time for the day itself.

The plan was to go with a group of her friends from Girl Scouts who live in the neighborhood — there are like six or seven of them — and we’d end up doing that, but a friend of The Patient Mrs.’ was coming along for the hell of it and when she got to the house, the dog got out. So here I go sprinting down the road — thankfully not out to 202, which is like 100 feet the other way and as a four-lane road would be certain death for the dog — calling “Tilly come!” at the top of my panicked lungs. Again. Electric fences cost thousands of dollars, I’m sorry. A neighbor came out of her house. The dog had stopped her own sprint at the edge of this woman’s property and Tilly loves people so much that all the lady had to do was say, “Hello puppy!” and Tilly ran over to meet her. Tilly had seemed like she had enough at that point — it’s just not letting her get out of sight and get lost in the interim; also not letting her get runover — anyway and took the bellyrubs while waiting for me to hobble over and get her. I was glad I did. We do our best not to keep the door open, but the dog is wiggly and dumb and surprisingly fast for being a mix of two lap breeds; shih-tzu and bichon friese. She’s 16 months old now.

Then we had to go trick-or-treating, meeting up with the Girl Scout group up the hill. The roads were busier with cars than one might’ve expected, but it was ultimately fine. Some of the parents brought shots and whatever in their water bottles, The Patient Mrs. had a couple drinks in hers; I ate a gummy before we went out and was well stoned by the time it got dark. The Pecan got tired around 7:30 and was flailing in the road as cars passed by — you should’ve seen the moms diving after her; noble in their intentions, but the more you drag The Pecan one way, the more she’ll push back into the middle of the street; keep a respectful distance and offer verbal reminders if you want to exert even limited control the situation, which you probably don’t actually need to do because even out-of-control-tired Pecan knows where she belongs and will get there, whatever heart attacks she provides along the way; “I got it,” I said as I followed her on a jaunt further down the road ahead of the group near the end of the night, and sure enough, I had it; check the perimeter and direction of momentum in any situation — so we turned around and headed back to the car with her fine selection of candy in the traditional Halloween bucket that holds fidgets the rest of the year. She came home, had a Tootsie Roll or two and was ready for a slice of pizza and bed. She kept the costume on while she watched Zelda fan theories on YouTube, and nobody was up late. It was a lot going with the group, but I’m glad the kid has friends — she’s definitely the weird one, and I expect she’ll continue to be — and she got to spend time with them doing fun, not-school-related stuff.

We had our parent-teacher conference this week, for which I was pointedly not stoned. She’s killing it in first grade, her teacher loves her, and she’s a joy to have in class. Considering where we were a year ago at this time, I feel justified in the tears of joy I shed. She’s an amazing kid — right now she’s got the Master Sword and is dancing from couch to couch; I was a blacksmith and tempered the sword; neither The Patient Mrs. nor I are particularly thrilled about introducing weapons-play to the house — and beginning to see the world around her in ways that she previously couldn’t. I have no idea what the next year will bring and wouldn’t embarrass myself by trying to predict. My experience of parenting has been a rollercoaster with the lowest lows and some of the highest highs I’ve ever had. I expect we’ll keep busy, one way or the other.

I could go on here, but this post is long enough, and if you’re still reading, thanks. Kid’s got off from school today for the Hindu holiday Diwali — the town we live in is a big South Asian enclave; it is a strength of the community and the food is amazing — and she had half-days most of this week for conferences, so I expect Monday will be something of a harsh return to reality, but we’ve got the weekend first and that’ll be plenty. Whatever you’re up to, I hope you have a great time and stay safe. Thanks again for reading, don’t forget to hydrate, and I’ll see you back on Monday for more.

FRM.

The Obelisk Collective on Facebook

The Obelisk Radio

The Obelisk merch

 

 

Vienna post-heavy four-piece Chorosia are heading out this Fall with sludge-punker countrymen Grimms Eye for a 10-date stretch starting Oct. 3. Have you ever heard either of these bands? It doesn’t matter. That’s the whole fucking point. There’s so much out there — this planet we’re on is so small compared to the rest of everything as we know and/or imagine it, and yet the rush of living on it feels endless. I don’t care if you never heard Chorosia or you spent two weeks last summer sleeping on the couch of their rehearsal space. What matters is you’re here now, reading this. What matters is if you listen now, when you have the chance.

And no one on the internet will tell you this, but you know what? If you miss it now, you’ll probably have another chance too. I know that’s not the thing you’re supposed to do in your little internet-self-branded-fiefdom. I should be trying to activate your FOMO on everything and hyping the shit out of every riff that comes my way because if I don’t I won’t get clicks and then step one steal underpants step two… … … step three profit. Well fuck that shit. Experience life at your own pace. These shows aren’t until October. Even if you happen to live in the path of the tour, or are going to be there by some fortunate happenstance, you’ve got time. Everybody relax.

Chrosia‘s video for “Hands, Switchblades and Vile Vortices” is streaming below. I put Grimms Eye‘s 2022 LP, Throne down there as well for your perusal/enjoyment. So peruse, and enjoy at your leisure if you so choose:

Chorosia & Grimm’s Eye: Grim Vortices Tour 2024

The Vienna-based prog/sludge riff masters Chorosia and their hometown HC punk/sludge colleagues Grimm’s Eye are embarking on an EU tour this October.

Chorosia and Grimm’s Eye have just announced the Grim Vortices 2024 tour taking place in early October. Spanning from Czechia to The Netherlands, the bands will embark on a 10-day journey across the continent. Find the full date list below.

Chorosia’s highly acclaimed latest release “Stray Dogs” was published in September last year and it was praised for its unique blend of styles and genres. The band has released two albums prior, self-titled in 2018 and “A Call To Love” in 2021.
As for Grimm’s Eye, the sludge-punk outlet released their second studio album “Throne” in early 2022 as the follow-up to their debut “Act!” from 2019.

Oct 3 – Brno, CZ @ Sibiř
Oct 4 – Görlitz, DE @ BASTA
Oct 5 – Hildesheim, DE @ Thav
Oct 6 – TBD / Feel free to contact the bands
Oct 7 – Utrecht, NL @ Trapop!
Oct 8 – Hasselt, BE @ Nocturna
Oct 9 – Belvaux, LU @ MK BAR
Oct 10 – Strasbourg, FR @ Le Local
Oct 11 – Munich, DE @ TBD
Oct 12 – Passau, DE @ Tabakfabrik

https://www.facebook.com/chorosia/
https://www.instagram.com/chorosia.doom
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC8fOksvdGOFpHjEdnNOgsuA
https://chorosia.bandcamp.com/

Chorosia, “Hands, Switchblades and Vile Vortices” official video

Grimms Eye, Throne (2022)

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.

Tortuga on Facebook

Napalm Records website

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Spidergawd, VII

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.

Spidergawd on Facebook

Stickman Records website

Crispin Glover Records website

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Morag Tong, Grieve

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.

Morag Tong on Facebook

Majestic Mountain Records store

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Conny Ochs, Wahn Und Sinn

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.

Conny Ochs on Facebook

Exile on Mainstream website/a>

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Ritual King, The Infinite Mirror

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.

Ritual King on Facebook

Ripple Music website

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Oldest Sea, A Birdsong, A Ghost

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.

Oldest Sea on Facebook

Darkest Records on Bandcamp

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Dim Electrics, Dim Electrics

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.

Dim Electrics on Facebook

Sulatron Records webstore

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Mountain of Misery, In Roundness

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.

Mountain of Misery on Facebook

Electric Witch Mountain Recordings on Facebook

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Aawks, Luna

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.

Aawks on Facebook

Black Throne Productions website

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Kaliyuga Express, Warriors & Masters

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.

Kaliyuga Express on Facebook

Riot Season Records store

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I didn’t really know Calgary’s Mares of Thrace before this tour announcement, and I’m sure you did because you’re way more on the ball than I am — always — but in case you didn’t hear their 2022 record, The Exile, it’s below with twisting, modern post-Baroness riffing and a nastiness that is both a surprise and a welcome turn from expectation. That kick drum in “In All Her Glory” and the riff it punctuates are both encouraging further dig-ins to the album, so hey, I learned something today. Lifelong process and all that. I say again: nasty. Fucking a.

Vienna-based harsh-vocal nod rockers TarLung, who offered their latest album, Architect (review here), in 2021, are more of a known quantity in their big-toned groove and commanding, death-metal-style vocal. The fact that both bands share a penchant for blending elements from more extreme styles with heavy riffing makes for an enticing combination, leaving one to wonder where, on a given night, the line between metal and rock might exist if it does at all. I already said “fucking a,” so I’ll go with “right on” instead. Right on.

Shows start Oct. 20, as the PR wire tells it:

CANADIAN NOISE-DOOM DUO MARES OF THRACE AND AUSTRIAN SLUDGE-DOOM TRIO TARLUNG ANNOUNCE EUROPEAN 2023 TOUR BEGINNING OCTOBER 20TH

Mares of Thrace will be embarking on their first-ever European tour, joined by TarLung from Austria. Dates are listed below.

On the tour, the band comments:

“We’re delighted to be finally playing Europe; it’s been a major goal since this project’s inception. We’re also super stoked to be joined by TarLung, who are musical (and otherwise) like minds of the highest order.”

Mares of Thrace released their critically-acclaimed third record, The Exile, on Sonic Unyon Records in 2022, and have followed it up with North American tours with the likes of KEN mode, Vile Creature, and Tribunal.

TarLung are widely considered one of the mainstays of Austrian doom, and have shared stages with such genre luminaries as Eyehategod, Crowbar, and Conan; their 2021 record Architect was hailed.

Fri 20.10. Graz (AT) – Club Wakuum
Sat 21.10. Alseno (IT) – Tingel Tangel
Sun 22.10. (IT) – TBD
Mon 23.10. Maribor (SLO) – Dvorana Gustaf
Tue 24.10. Budapest (HUN) – Robot
Wed 25.10. Krakow (PL) – Pub Pod Ziemia
Thu 26.10. Katowice (PL) – Music Hub
Fri 27.10. Warsaw (PL) – Chmury
Sat 28.10. Berlin (DE) – Köpi
Sun 29.10. Praha (CZ) – Modrá Vopice
Mon 30.10. Brno (CZ) – Kabinet Muz
Tue 31.10. Vienna (AT) – Venster99

https://www.instagram.com/mares_of_thrace/
https://www.facebook.com/maresofthraceca
https://maresofthrace.bandcamp.com/

https://www.instagram.com/tarlung_band/
https://www.facebook.com/tarlungband
https://tarlung.bandcamp.com/

Mares of Thrace, The Exile (2022)

TarLung, Architect (2021)

There’s an angular severity early in Chorosia‘s new single, “Hands, Switchblades, and Vile Vortices,” which heralds crunch to come on their new EP, Stray Dogs. Set to release on Sept. 15 through Grazil Records and Kvlt und Kaos Productions, the follow-up to the Vienna-based four-piece’s 2021 A Call to Love long-player is listed at 35 minutes — longer than some albums, if not Chorosia‘s — and the self-harm-themed track is the first audio from it, taking its basis in a heavy slogging sludge rock informed by death metal and able to establish that kind of declarative presence even before shifting into its speedier midsection. They use the chorus well amid various guitar solos, and if you don’t find the subject matter disturbing, the inability to place Chorosia easily within a given metallic microniche might do the trick. Either way, it’s nasty stuff.

The video came down the PR wire today with the following:

CHOROSIA – Stray Dogs EP – Sept. 15

Pre-orders open now: https://chorosia.bandcamp.com/album/stray-dogs

Chorosia is a prog/post-sludge metal band hailing from Vienna, Austria. The band was founded in 2017 by Anto Pranjić (guitars/vocals), Florian Zeus (guitars), Christian Umkehrer (bass), and Gregory Reinig (drums). Already the following year, in May 2018, Chorosia independently released their first album. The self-titled debut was welcomed with positive reviews by various underground music critics, some even naming it an honorable mention for the metal album of the year.

After doing a number of local dates to promote the album which included playing before or after various well-known names such as Crowbar, Dopelord, Yob, Neurosis, Black Tusk, and the Skull and a self-booked 8-day tour through southern Europe in 2019, Chorosia released their sophomore studio effort entitled “A Call To Love” via Grazil Records. “A Call To Love” marked the band’s departure from the traditional sludge sound into a more experimental ground. Combining elements of sludge, doom, grind, and even folk music, online critics often struggled to put a genre tag to the album. Instead, they praised it for its creativity, weirdness, and even strange beauty.

The band’s third studio endeavor, EP entitled “Stray Dogs”, deepens the experimental efforts. It’s a 35-minute prog/post-sludge odyssey that pushes the envelope of the genre. The band’s signature blend of compelling instrumentation and growling vocals consumes the listener by the raw power of its transformative intensity. Set to release on September 15th via Grazil Records and Kvlt und Kaos Productions, Chorosia’s “Stray Dogs” is set to be their most successful release yet. Save the date and brace for impact!

https://www.facebook.com/chorosia
https://www.instagram.com/chorosia.doom
https://chorosia.bandcamp.com/

Chorosia, “Hands, Switchblades, and Vile Vortices” official video

If you missed yesterday, be advised, it’s not too late. If you miss today, be advised as well that tomorrow’s not too late. One of the things I enjoy most about the Quarterly Review is that it puts the lie to the idea that everything on the internet has to be so fucking immediate. Like if you didn’t hear some release two days before it actually came out, somehow a week, a month, a year later, you’ve irreparably missed it.

That isn’t true in the slightest, and if you want proof, I’m behind on shit ALL. THE. TIME. and nine times out of 10, it just doesn’t matter. I’ll grant that plenty of music is urgent and being in that moment when something really cool is released can be super-exciting — not taking away from that — but hell’s bells, you can sit for the rest of your life and still find cool shit you’ve never heard that was released half a century ago, let alone in January. My advice is calm down and enjoy the tunes; and yes, I’m absolutely speaking to myself as much as to you.

Quarterly Review #11-20:

Siena Root, Revelation

What might be their eighth LP, depending on what counts as what, Revelation is the second from Siena Root to feature vocalist/organist Zubaida Solid up front alongside seemingly-now-lone guitarist Johan Borgström (also vocals) and the consistent foundation provided by the rhythm section of bassist Sam Riffer (also some vocals) and drummer Love “Billy” Forsberg. Speaking a bit to their own history, the long-running Swedish classic heavy rockers inject a bit of sitar (by Stian Grimstad) and hand-percussion into “Leaving the City,” but the 11-song/46-minute offering is defined in no small part by a bluesy feel, and Solid‘s vocal performance brings that aspect to “Leaving the City” as well, even if the sonic focus for Siena Root is more about classic prog and blues rock of hooky inclusions like the organ-and-guitar grooving opener “Coincidence and Fate” and the gently funky “Fighting Gravity,” or even the touch of folkish jazz in “Winter Solstice,” though the sitar does return on side B’s “Madukhauns” ahead of the organ/vocal showcase closer “Keeper of the Flame,” which calls back to the earlier “Dalecarlia Stroll” with a melancholy Deep Purple could never quite master and a swinging payoff that serves as just one final way in which Siena Root once more demonstrate they are pure class in terms of execution.

Siena Root on Facebook

Atomic Fire Records website

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Los Mundos, Eco del Universo

The latest and (again) maybe-eighth full-length to arrive within the last 10 years from Monterrey, Mexico’s Los Mundos, Eco del Universo is an immersive dreamboat of mellow psychedelia, with just enough rock to not be pure drift on a song like “Hanna,” but still an element of shoegaze to bring the cool kids on board. Effects gracefully channel-swap alongside languid vocals (in Spanish, duh) with a melodicism that feels casual but is not unconsidered either in that song or the later “Rocas,” which meets Western-tinged fuzz with a combination of voices from bassist/keyboardist Luis Ángel Martínez, guitarist/synthesist/sitarist Alejandro Elizondo and/or drummer Ricardo Antúnez as the band is completed by guitarist/keyboardist/sitarist Raúl González. Yes, they have two sitarists; they need both, as well as all the keyboards, and the modular synth, and the rest of it. All of it. Because no matter what arrangement elements are put to use in the material, the songs on Eco del Universo just seem to absorb it all into one fluid approach, and if by the time the hum-drone and maybe-gong in the first minute of opener “Las Venas del Cielo” unfolds into the gently moody and gorgeous ’60s-psych pop that follows you don’t agree, go back and try again. Space temples, music engines in the quirky pop bounce of “Gente del Espacio,” the shape of air defined amid semi-krautrock experimentalism in “La Forma del Aire”; esta es la música para los lugares más allá. Vamos todos.

Los Mundos on Facebook

The Acid Test Recordings store

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Minnesota Pete Campbell, Me, Myself & I

Well, you see, sometimes there’s a global pandemic and even the most thoroughly-banded of artists starts thinking about a solo record. Not to make light of either the plague or the decision or the result experience from “Minnesota” Pete Campbell (drummer of Pentagram, Place of Skulls, In~Graved, Vulgarri, Gygax, Sixty Watt Shaman for a hot minute, guitarist of The Mighty Nimbus, etc.), but he kind of left himself open to it with putting “Lockdown Blues” and the generally personal nature of the songs on, Me, Myself and I, his first solo album in a career of more than two decades. The nine-song/46-minute riffy splurge is filled with love songs seemingly directed at family in pieces like “Lightbringer,” “You’re My Angel,” the eight-minute “Swimming in Layla’s Hair,” the two-minute “Uryah vs. Elmo,” so humanity and humility are part of the general vibe along with the semi-Southern grooves, easy-rolling heavy blues swing, acoustic/electric blend in the four-minute purposeful sans-singing meander of “Midnight Dreamin’,” and so on. Five of the nine inclusions feature Campbell on vocals, and are mixed for atmosphere in such a way as to make me believe he doesn’t think much of himself as a singer — there’s some yarl, but he’s better than he gives himself credit for on both the more uptempo and brash “Starlight” and the mellow-Dimebag-style “Whispers of Autumn,” which closes — but there’s a feeling-it-out sensibility to the tracks that only makes the gratitude being expressed (either lyrically or not) come through as more sincere. Heck man, do another.

Minnesota Pete Campbell on Facebook

Kozmik Artifactz website

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North Sea Noise Collective, Roudons

Based in the Netherlands, North Sea Noise Collective — sometimes also written as Northsea Noise Collective — includes vocals for the first time amid the experimental ambient drones of the four pieces on the self-released Roudons, which are reinterpretations of Frisian rockers Reboelje, weirdo-everythingist Arnold de Boer and doom legends Saint Vitus. The latter, a take on the signature piece “Born Too Late” re-titled “Dit Doarp” (‘this village’ in English), is loosely recognizable in its progression, but North Sea Noise Collective deep-dives into the elasticity of music, stretching limits of where a song begins and ends conceptually. Modular synth hums, ebbs and flows throughout “Wat moatte wy dwaan as wy gjin jild hawwe,” which follows opener “Skepper fan de skepper” and immerses further in open spaces crafted through minimalist sonic architecture, the vocals chanting like paeans to the songs themselves. It should probably go without saying that Roudons isn’t going to resonate with all listeners in the same way, but universal accessibility is pretty clearly low on the album’s priority list, and for as dug-in as Roudons is, that’s right where it should be.

North Sea Noise Collective on Facebook

North Sea Noise Collective on Bandcamp

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Sins of Magnus, Secrets of the Cosmos

Philly merchants Sins of Magnus offer their fourth album in the 12 songs/48 minutes of Secrets of the Cosmos, and while said secrets may or may not actually be included in the record’s not-insignificant span, I’ll say that I’ve yet to find the level of volume that’s too loud for the record to take. And maybe that’s the big secret after all. In any case, the three-piece of bassist/vocalist Eric Early, guitarist/vocalist Rich Sutcliffe and drummer Sean Young tap classic heavy rock vibes and aim them on a straight-line road to riffy push. There’s room for some atmosphere and guest vocal spots on the punkier closing pair “Mother Knows Best” and “Is Anybody There?” but the grooves up front are more laid back and chunkier-style, where “Not as Advertised,” “Workhorse,” “Let’s Play a Game” and “No Sanctuary” likewise get punkier, contrasting that metal stretch in “Stoking the Flames” earlier on In any case, they’re more unpretentious than they are anything else, and that suits just fine since there’s more than enough ‘changing it up’ happening around the core heavy riffs and mean-muggin’ vibes. It’s not the most elaborate production ever put to tape, but the punker back half of the record is more effective for that, and they get their point across anyhow.

Sins of Magnus on Instagram

Sins of Magnus on Bandcamp

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Nine Altars, The Eternal Penance

Steeped in the arcane traditions of classic doom metal, Nine Altars emerge from the UK with their three-song/33-minute debut full-length, The Eternal Penance, leading with the title-track’s 13-minute metal-of-eld rollout as drummer/vocalist Kat Gillham (also Thronehammer, Lucifer’s Chalice, Enshroudment, etc.), guitarists Charlie Wesley (also also Enshroudment, Lucifer’s Chalice) and Nicolete Burbach and bassist Jamie Thomas roll with distinction into “The Fragility of Existence” (11:58), which starts reasonably slow and then makes that seem fast by comparison before picking up the pace again in the final third ahead of the more trad-NWOBHM idolatry of “Salvation Lost” (8:27). Any way they go, they’re speaking to metal born no later than 1984, and somehow for a band on their first record with two songs north of 11 minutes, they don’t come across as overly indulgent, instead borrowing what elements they want from what came before them and applying them to their longform works with fluidity of purpose and confident melodicism, Gillham‘s vocal command vital to the execution despite largely following the guitar, which of course is also straight out of the classic metal playbook. Horns, fists, whatever. Raise ’em high in the name of howling all-doom.

Nine Altars on Facebook

Good Mourning Records website

Journey’s End Records website

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The Freqs, Poachers

Fuzzblasting their way out of Salem, Massachusetts, with an initial public offering of six cuts that one might legitimately call “high octane” and not feel like a complete tool, The Freqs are a relatively new presence in the Boston/adjacent heavy underground, but they keep kicking ass like this and someone’s gonna notice. Hell, I’m sure someone has. They’re in and out in 27 minutes, so Poachers is an EP, but if it was a debut album, it’d be one of the best I’ve heard in this busy first half of 2023. Fine. So it goes on a different list. The get-off-your-ass-and-move effect of “Powetrippin'” remains the same, and even in the quiet outset of the subsequent “Asphalt Rivers,” it’s plain the breakout is coming, which, satisfyingly, it does. “Sludge Rats” decelerates some, certainly compared to opener “Poacher Gets the Tusk,” but is proportionately huge-sounding in making that tradeoff, especially near the end, and “Chase Fire, Caught Smoke” rips itself open ahead of the more aggressive punches thrown in the finale “Witch,” all swagger and impact and frenetic energy as it is. Fucking a. They end noisy and crowd-chanting, leaving one wanting both a first-LP and to see this band live, which as far as debut EPs go is most likely mission accomplished. It’s a burner. Don’t skip out on it because they didn’t name the band something more generic-stoner.

The Freqs on Facebook

The Freqs on Bandcamp

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Lord Mountain, The Oath

Doomer nod, proto-metallic duggery and post-NWOBHM flourish come together with heavy rock tonality and groove throughout Lord Mountain‘s bullshit-free recorded-in-2020/2021 debut album, issued through King Volume as the follow-up to a likewise-righteous-but-there-was-less-of-it 2016 self-titled EP (review here) and other odds and ends. Like a West Coast Magic Circle, they’ve got their pagan altars built and their generals out witchfinding, but the production is bright in Pat Moore‘s snare cutting through the guitars of Jesse Swanson (also vocals and primary songwriting) and Sean Serrano, and Andy Chism‘s bass, working against trad-metal cliché, is very much in the mix figuratively, literally, and thankfully. The chugs and winding of “The Last Crossing” flow smoothly into the mourning solo in the song’s second half, and the doom they proffer in “Serpent Temple” and the ultra-Dio Sabbath concluding title-track just might make you a believer if you weren’t one. It’s a record you probably didn’t know you were waiting for, and all the more so when you realize “The Oath” is “Four Horsemen”/”Mechanix” played slower. Awesome.

Lord Mountain on Facebook

King Volume Records store

Kozmik Artifactz store

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Black Air, Impending Bloom

Opener “The Air at Night Smells Different” digs into HEX-era Earth‘s melancholic Americana instrumentalism and threat-underscored grayscale, but “Fog Works,” which follows, turns that around as guitarist Florian Karg moves to keys and dares to add both progressivism and melody to coincide with that existential downtrodding. Fellow guitarist Philipp Seiler, standup-bassist Stephan Leeb and drummer Marian Waibl complete the four-piece, and Impending Bloom is their first long-player as Black Air. They ultimately keep that post-Earth spirit in the seven-minute title-track, but sneak in a more active stretch after four minutes in, not so much paying off a build — that’s still to come in “A New-Found Calm” — = as reminding there’s life in the wide spaces being conjured. The penultimate “The Language of Rocks and Roots” emphasizes soul in the guitar’s swelling and receding volume, while closer “Array of Lights,” even in its heaviest part, seems to rest more comfortably on its bassline. In establishing a style, the Vienna-based outfit come through as familiar at least on a superficial listen, but there’s budding individuality in these songs, and so their debut might just be a herald of blossoming to come.

Black Air on Instagram

Black Air on Bandcamp

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Bong Coffin, The End Beyond Doubt

Oh yeah, you over it? You tired of the bongslaught of six or seven dozen megasludge bands out there with ‘bong’ in their name trying to outdo each other in cannabinoid content on Bandcamp every week? Fine. I don’t care. You go be too cool. I’ll pop on “Ganjalf” and follow the smoke to oh wait what was I saying again? Fuck it. With some Dune worked in for good measure, Adelaide, Australia’s Bong Coffin build a sludge for the blacklands on “Worthy of Mordor” and shy away not a bit from the more caustic end their genre to slash through their largesse of riff like the raw blade of an uruk-hai shredding some unsuspecting villager who doesn’t even realize the evil overtaking the land. They move a bit on “Messiah” and “Shaitan” and threaten a similar shove in “Nightmare,” but it’s the gonna-read-Lovecraft-when-done-with-Tolkien screams and crow-call rasp of “Träskkungen” that gets the prize on Bong Coffin‘s debut for me, so radly wretched and sunless as it is. Extreme stoner? Caustic sludge? The doom of mellows harshed? You call it whatever fucking genre you want — or better, don’t, with your too-cool ass — and I’ll march to the obsidian temple (that riff is about my pace these days) to break my skull open and bleed out the remnants of my brain on that ancient stone.

Bong Coffin on Facebook

Bong Coffin on Bandcamp

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Maybe there’s some secret improv-based heavy psychedelic jam group on Facebook or something where everyone talks about the proper water temperature for tea and how to build delay pedals and cosmic synthesizers out of common items found around the household — or, you know, they played a show together or something — but however Speck and Interkosmos know each other, they’re a good fit.

Speck are from Vienna, Austria, and Interkosmos hail from various locales in Germany. Both explore space through spontaneous excursions of aural weaving, shaping organic vibes with electric means, finding their way as they go and making that process — at least on this shared full-length release issued through Sulatron Records — the basis of their expression. The explorations, abidingly mellow but not at all staid or unipolar, are the point, in other words. And with Speck‘s “The Metz Session” (23:16) on side A and Interkosmos unfurling “Beyond Hibernation” (22:32) on side B, it’s about as packed as a 12″ platter can be with dug-in, out-there brainmelter kosmiche-ism, both bands aware and ready to incorporate the tenets of space rock, but refusing to subsume their impulses to the tenets of genre.

Taken as an entirety, the split heralds a vitality of approach shared across both outfits, while each showcases a personality and progression of its own, working largely instrumentally — there’s some conversation at the end and a “woo!” in the second half takeoff in “The Metz Session”; no argument — to carry them ever deeper toward the center of lysergic creativity, the root of all things, maybe the weird 400-mile-wide iron ball said to rest at the core of the Earth, and so forth. Wherever they’re headed, it’s not unimportant, but the focus is on how they get there rather than a landing spot.

That said, Speck do offer a rousing, blaster crash wash and ripper solo shred — dig that punker snare too amid the push — starting around 21 minutes into “The Metz Session,” devolving the piece named after its recording circumstance into noise before capping with residual undulations of echoing guitar, then sharing a good laugh after. The three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Marcel Cultrera, bassist Lisa Winkelmüller and drummer Patrick Säuerl jammed out “The Metz Session” as the first part of a video series (with sound and video helmed by Sebastian Hödlmoser and Lukas Sukal, respectively), and begin with the drums tapping themselves to life on the ride cymbal before launching a relatively uptempo beat as the foundation. Guitar and bass join, and before the extended piece is even a minute in, everyone is present and accounted for in a stretch deceptive in its tension but still fluid enough for the band to ride it as long as they do.

It’s an exciting start. Not so much in a way that has you waiting for the payoff — the song’s 23 minutes long, and the patience to let Speck unfold it as they see fit is an inherent ask — but in a way that offers rewards even before they get to the already-noted finish, whether that’s Cultrera‘s solo after the three-minute mark, expansive and shimmering over the somewhat-understated-for-now bass from Winkelmüller or the turn to deeper-distorted chug at around five minutes in that shifts almost immediately to a more drifting comedown, drums stopping and turning at 5:43 to mark the beginning of the next stage. With wah to spare, Speck work their way into another build, and at 9:28 they start to more directly coalesce around a fuzzy cosmic thrust that is all the more sweeping when the guitar howls out its acid-drenched lead atop the now-solid groove beneath.

More chug and a furious round of crashing follows, but the stretch is relatively shortlived, shifting before the 13-minute mark into a long opposite-of-a-build unmaking — highlight bass work included after 14 minutes in — that brings “The Metz Session” eventually down to just floating guitar as the setup for the all-the-way-back return of volume splurge that finishes. Do I need to use the word “dynamic” when dynamic is the whole point? I don’t know, but Speck offer full-spectrum audio anyhow, and the laughter and chat at the end offers a palpable sense of exhale, putting the listener even more in the room with the band for the session recorded in 2021, just about two years after they formed.

To contrast, Interkosmos are an entity reborn, and perhaps that’s where the title “Beyond Hibernation” comes from, since their only prior release, the extended full-length Hypnotizer, came out in 2008 (there was also a 2016 remaster). Whatever the case, the trio of guitarist Sergio Ceballos (also Mohama Saz, RIP KC way back when, etc.), guitarist, synthesist/sampler, recording engineer, mixer and label head Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt (ex-Electric Moon, Krautzone, Zone Six, Sula Bassana, Weltraumstaunen, etc.), and drummer Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching (Electric Moon, Sula Bassana‘s Dark Days LP, and so on) are short neither on pedigree nor chemistry, lacing “Beyond Hibernation” with an ambient backdrop of synth around which the guitars curl and reshape themselves according to the whims of the moment.

A more gradual beginning has some kind of sampled echoing loop fading in even before the guitar starts to wake up, serene and less raga than the notion of waking up implies. The drums start soft shortly before 90 seconds in, more the presence of a thud at first than anything so rampantly active, but there’s a space-jazz sensibility to the rhythm behind the post-rock drift and entwining swirl of the guitars, and when taken together, it is duly entrancing. Again, it’s the drums that signal the shift into business-proper, at 3:24 establishing a more forward beat, still gentle but solidified, and the current of that groove pulls Ceballos and Schmidt along as well, threatening space rock takeoff at about five minutes in with the synth rising in the mix, but keeping to its course, not forcing “Beyond Hibernation” to go someplace it doesn’t seem to want to go; band and song working together to make the thing what it is.

Hitting another echelon in minute six, they’re underway and headed into the unknown with an ultra-flowing movement, calm on the surface in the synth and space-noodling guitar but decisively busier on the drums as they dig into the part and let it go, gradually reshaping it until as they approach the 12-minute mark, it seems almost like the guitar is noting the tension that’s come about in the piece itself not because they’re in a build, but because it’s starting to sound like the jam is coming apart. It’s not, actually, of course, but that danger is there as the drums fade back momentarily to regroup. By 12:45, they’re back at it in constructing a new procession, trying one way, then another, before at 14 minutes they seem to rally and find their way into a more angular manifestation, guitar and snare bouncing playfully and almost bluesy, lighthearted.

They hit into the twisting path of guitar and maybe-bass-or-just-other-guitar that at 17 minutes in enters a build in earnest and the somewhat understated — at least it’s not as noisy as Speck‘s was — crescendo for side B, which both feels earned and rests easily as the culmination of the release as a whole, particularly with the residual layers of guitar and synth and the flourish of cymbals that accompany the settling-down at the very end, a corresponding “woo!” thrown in as if to underscore the excited sentiment put forth on side A, though this time it was an audience response, as the “Beyond Hibernation” was recorded in 2008 at Space Farm Ahoi Festiva in Austria, with overdubs added last year.

In its very last seconds, not looking at the clock but just listening on headphones, there is a sense that Interkosmos might pick back up and keep going, but no, thepy don’t. The fact that “Beyond Hibernation” was captured on stage suits the feel of the split in general — live creation is the throughline of both sides, it’s the context that differs — but there’s no appreciable dip in sound quality from Speck (who were in a studio) to Interkosmos either, and that bolsters continuity as well. To be perfectly honest, however, if Speck doesn’t draw you in at the outset, by the time Interkosmos take over, you’ve probably already checked out.

There is, then, a kind of for-the-converted mindset to the proceedings, but aside perhaps from the intimidation factor of taking on longform jammy psych instrumentals for the first time, the barriers to entry are negligible, if not entirely absent. All gates open. Both Speck and Interkosmos welcome their audience (figurative and literal) with steady immersion, and if you’re not careful, you might find yourself back in reality when it’s done wondering where you’ve just been. And maybe that’s the ideal anyhow, since getting lost in it and taken by the moment as it happens could hardly be truer to what each act presents in their given time is the result of the players doing much the same, submerging in the musical conversation taking place right then, come what may in terms of the actual realized material. Boldly impulsive, the split underscores the appeal of psych-jamming more generally in that, and whether one actively follows along or allows the totality to speak to the subconscious, the only wrong answer in terms of how to approach it is to ignore.

Speck, “The Metz Session”

Interkosmos, “Beyond Hibernation”

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