Posted in Reviews on November 1st, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Long-running German heavy psych constructionists Zone Six have remained steadily active since returning in 2015 with what was then their first album in 11 years and now is the better part of a decade old, Love Monster (review here). With a home on bassist/synthsist/organist/producer Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt‘s Sulatron Records imprint (Schmidt also plays/has played in Sula Bassana, Electric Moon, Krautzone, Weltraumstaunen, Liquid Visions, on and on), and releases through labels like Acid Test, Headspin, Deep Distance and Panchromatic Records, the trio have been more productive in terms of studio releases than they ever were in their initial run, which began in 1997 with their self-titled debut (reissue review here) showing up in 1998 and never really all the way stopped, save perhaps for a few years in the early-’10s.
The three-song Full Mental Jacket is the follow-up to 2020’s Kozmik Koon (review here), with the lineup of Schmidt, guitarist Manuel Wohlrab (also of post-metallers Yanos) and drummer Bernhard “Pablo Carneval” Fasching (Electric Moon, Sula Bassana) offering 39 minutes of plotted but exploratory instrumentalism arranged longest to shortest across “Slingshot” (19:54), “Full Mental Jacket” (10:00) and “Chrono Trigger” (9:55), with progressive and psychedelic atmospheres at the forefront of their intention and a massive cosmic wash held in reserve for when they need it, though they’re certainly hypnotic and immersive before they get there as well.
Consuming side A in its entirety, “Slingshot” sets Full Mental Jacketquickly off at a speedy clip and a progression of buzzy guitar and bass that, if perhaps it didn’t also have synth winding intermittently around it, could just as easily be goth rock. A groove they ride until a break three minutes in, it will reemerge after the classy kosmiche interlude, marked by the echoing soprano sax of Gottfried Klier and the “ghost guitar” of Rainer Neeff (Krautzone, The Pancakes), both sitting in for guest spots, but jazzy snare and intricacy in the bass to match the layers of guitar as they build up assure momentum isn’t lost for the divergence.
Over the next few minutes, they gradually solidify the drift, finding themselves in a nodding resonance circa minute-nine leading to the rising of the first big wash of the record, with the guitars, sax, effects and synth pushing further out in unforced but not too slow meter, recovering some more of the piece’s earlier intensity as that riff is brought back after 17 minutes in after a sudden snap. Cymbal splash punctuates the charge, synth resumes wrapping itself around the mix in full three-dimensional fashion, and they cut to a drone to finish, ambient sci-fi keyboard setting a cinematic-but-weird-cinema mood at the outset of the title-track before the guitar begins the procession of “Full Mental Jacket” in earnest.
A sustained line of organ runs a thread of melody across the initial span of the 10-minute side B leadoff, placed in the mix above the pulsating guitar and swinging drums. Among the other lessons of “Slingshot” is that Full Mental Jacket, however loosely structured or departed from verse/chorus patterning it might be, is still based on composition. That’s true of “Full Mental Jacket” and “Chrono Trigger” as well, but the centerpiece feels somewhat closer to jamming at its root. The organ continues to feature as it plays through a melody in complement to the guitar, but even the rhythm behind it comes across as exploratory, if not made up on the spot (and likely not), then open in its approach to prior-written parts.
Almost exactly at the midpoint, the snare pops to announce a change in the guitar, and the expanse takes a turn toward heavy post-rock in layers of guitar across channels, drums responsible for grounding the movement into the payoff, which surges forward at around 6:45. “Full Mental Jacket” doesn’t unfold its crescendo with the same speed as “Slingshot,” but it’s noisier and Zone Six spend more time looking out from atop the aural mountain they just climbed, the air around them duly light on oxygen as “Full Mental Jacket” recedes into beeps like a truck backing up and other sonic leftovers to bid farewell and bring about the deceptively smooth intro to “Chrono Trigger.”
Whether or not the members of Zone Six or the band collectively are fans of ’90s-era SquareSoft role-playing games on Super Nintendo, I don’t know, but “Chrono Trigger” shares its name with one, and like that game’s adventure narrative, there’s a bit of magic in the closing piece of Full Mental Jacket as well. The bass sets the foundation, fluid but cohesive, as the band conjure a broad space and place themselves within it. Lead notes follow a pattern answered by the drums or synth back in the distance, and a more meditative psychedelia finds its shape. But before the listener even realizes what has happened, this has been going on for more than three minutes and the trio are fully dug into the proceedings.
Shades of My Sleeping Karma meet the band’s own chemistry as the synth marks a change to the next part, drums and keys moving to the front while the guitar steps back, effects swirling again to bring them into focus at the start of the album’s final build at around five minutes in, with a pedal-click push of volume just before the six-minute mark. As with “Full Mental Jacket” and “Slingshot,” the apex of “Chrono Trigger” is a wash of guitar, keys, effects, cymbals and who knows what else, but Zone Six are calm within the tumult. They skillfully guide Full Metal Jacket to its end point; a fade that feels shorter bringing a heavy-feeling silence.
The overarching vibe of Full Mental Jacket comes through as perhaps darker than one might expect, but it is only more satisfying for defying that expectation, and while the individual tracks each bring something different to the whole, the band also unite their work in direction, chemistry and tone. But what they do with those is create whole spaces in which to dwell (albeit temporarily) and, within them, explore these new ideas and textures. The result is a blend of jam-based heavy psych and heavier post-rock that belongs to Zone Six alone as it is born of their individual influences and their will to evolve more than a quarter-century on from their first launch, and frankly, the galaxy is lucky to have it.
Posted in Questionnaire on February 27th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I’m Dave and I make music (play several instruments, do the recordings and mixing). And I run a record label and online shop. I started making cosmic sounds at age 10 with a trashy organ and started again when I was 15 or so when I got my first crappy Synthesizer. I played my first gig when I was 18, in 1986, with a electronic duo (Solaris). Played electronic music in several projects and played a dozen live concerts. Later I started playing bass in psychedelic rock bands (we founded my first real band Liquid Visions in 1994). I started my label in 2004 and I still run it. This and playing in bands is my life. Btw: I play in Zone Six, Interkosmos, Die Raumpatrouille, other jam projects, and my main project is Sula Bassana, which started as my solo-project in 2002 and I have a live band now for my songs and our first concert is in March. And many more to come. ;-)
Describe your first musical memory.
To be shocked as a child when my parents took me into a classic opera. Hahahhaa, not the best start. But luckily I discovered electronic music some years after this. But to be honest, I still like to listen to classical music as Bach, Händel, Grieg, Holst and more. But that’s NOT opera! :-D
Describe your best musical memory to date.
UH! There are so many, much too many to pick out just one. But playing live and creating a improvised track with a psychedelic feel and some wall of sound always makes me happy. Last weekend we played two shows with Zone Six and it was super-nice. Brings tons of positive vibes and feelings!
One of the highlights was for sure our week at a residency in Tunisia, where we went with Electric Moon. Met amazing people, made a lot of music, played on a two-day festival and became friends with so many wonderful people!
Or my first concert in a Planetary (at Insulaner, Berlin) in 1990, with my friend Peter Dembour, playing two sold out shows with our Berlin school like electronic music. Sadly Peter passed away some years ago. A big loss….
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
Always, when I read the news about the unbelievable madness of war, corruption and destruction of nature. I was born in Berlin in the Cold War era. And now we are back in war… so sad.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
Freedom and happiness.
How do you define success?
I’m still happy to make a living as a label owner and musician. Dreamed of it my whole life, and you can imagine how poor the first years were (almost 20 years ago), from economical view. But I arranged myself with a simple but free life. :-)
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
I leave the very sad moments untold here. Sorry!
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
Cosmic music with a full orchestra and electronics and a full band. :-)
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Connecting people. And to open minds of people. And bringing peace. And letting the inner child live on!
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
Peace on this planet. And in general more respect to nature and animals!
Today’s Friday, and in most but a decreasing number of circumstances, that means a Quarterly Review is over. Not this one. Remember, doublewide means it goes to 100 albums. The really crazy part? It could go longer. I could add another day. It could go to 11! Have I done that before?
Probably. That Spinal Tap reference is too obvious for me to have never made it. In any case, I’ve got something booked for Monday after next already, so I won’t be adding another day, but I could just on the releases that came in over the last couple days. Onto the list for next time. Late September/early October, I think.
If you’re hurting for Quarterly Review in the meantime? Yeah, stick around. There’s a whole other week coming up. That’s what I’ve been saying. Have a great weekend and we’ll pick back up on Monday with another 10 records.
Quarterly Review #41-50:
The John Denver Airport Conspiracy, Something’s Gotta Give
Hail Toronto psych. The John Denver Airport Conspiracy released Something’s Gotta Give as a 16-tracker name-your-price Bandcamp download nearly a year ago, and vinyl delays give squares like yours truly who missed it at the time another opportunity to get on board. The 14-song LP edition runs 42 minutes, and it’s time well spent in being out of its own time, a pedal steel Americana-fying the ’60s drift of “Comin’ Through” while “Jeff Bezos Actually Works for Me” pairs garage strum-and-strut with a cavernous echo for an effect like shoegaze that looked up. “2000 November” and closer “The Lab” dares proto-punk shimmy and “Green Chair” has that B3 organ sound and lazy jangle that one can’t help but associate with 1967, “Ya, I Wonder” perhaps a few years before that, but “The Big Greaser” works in less directly temporal spaces, and the whole album is united by an overarching mellow spirit, not totally in a fog because actually the structures on some of these songs are pretty tight — as they were in the 1960s — but they’ve definitely and purposefully kept a few screws loose. Their sound may solidify over time and it may not, but as a debut album, Something’s Gotta Give is deceptively rich in its purpose and engaging in its craft and style alike. I wish I’d heard it earlier, I’m glad to have heard it now.
Clara Engel‘s experimentalist folk songwriting moves into and across and over and through various traditions and methods, but their voice is as resonant, human and unifying as ever, and that’s true from “O Human Child” through the softly echoing guitar pieces “Golden Egg” and “High Alien Priest,” the more ethereal “Glass Mountain,” and so on, while excursions like “I Drink the Rain,” “Cryptid Bop” and “Dead Tree March” earlier add not only instrumental flourish but an avant garde sensibility consistent with Engel‘s past work, even if as songs they remain resoundingly cohesive. That is to say, while founded on experimentalist principles, they are built into songs rather than presented in their rawest form. The inclusion of organ in finale “The Devils are Snoring” is striking and complements the minimalist vocals and backing drone, but by then Engel has long established their ability to put the listener where they wants, with the image of “Rowing Home Through a Sea of Golden Leaves” duly poetic to suit the music as demonstration. Gorgeous, impassioned, hurt but striving and ever moving forward creatively. Engel‘s work remains a treasure for those with ears to hear it. “I Drink the Rain” is an album unto itself.
Though the initial push of doomer riffing and melodic vocals in the post-intro title-track “Weird Tales” reminds a bit of Apostle of Solitude, the hooky brand of heavy wrought by Chilean three-piece Cormano — vocalist/guitarist Aaron Saavedra, bassist/backing vocalist Claudio Bobadilla, drummer/backing vocalist Rodrigo Jiménez — on their debut full-length is more about rock than such morose proceedings, and in fact it’s the prior intro “La Marcha del Desierto” that makes that plain. They’ll delve into psychedelic airiness in “El Caleuche” — the bassline underneath a highlight on its own — and if you read “Bury Me With My Money” as a capitalist critique, it’s almost fun instead of tragic, but their swing in “Urknall” and the roll of “Rise From Your Grave” (second Altered Beast reference of this Quarterly Review; pure coincidence) act as precursor to the thickened unfurling of “Futuere” and “A Boy and His Dog,” a closing pair that reinforce Cormano‘s ultimate direction as anything but settled, the latter featuring a pointedly heavy crash before a surprisingly gentle finish. Will be curious to see where their impulses lead them, but Weird Tales is that much stronger for the variety currently in their influences.
Like the rest of reality, Baltimorean heavy psychedelic blues rockers Black Lung have undergone a few significant changes in the last three years. Guitarist/vocalist Dave Cavalier (also Mellotron) and drummer/synthesist Elias Schutzman (also Revvnant, ex-The Flying Eyes) bid farewell to fellow founding member Adam Bufano (guitar, also ex-The Flying Eyes) and brought in Dave Fullerton to fill the role, while also, for the first time, adding a bassist in Charles Braese. Thus, their first record for Heavy Psych Sounds, the J. Robbins-produced/Kurt Ballou-mixed Dark Waves is a notable departure in form from 2019’s Ancients (review here), even if the band’s core methodology and aesthetic are the same. The sound is fuller, richer, and more able to hold the various Mellotrons and other flourishes, as well as the cello in “Hollow Dreams” and guest vocals on “Death Grip” and guest keys on “The Cog” and “The Path.” Taking inspiration from modern global uncertainties sociopolitical, medical and otherwise, the band put you in a mind of living through the current moment, thankfully without inducing the level of anxiety that seems to define it. Small favors amid big riffs. With shades of All Them Witches and further psychedelic exploring transposed onto their already-a-given level of songwriting, Black Lung sound like they’re making a second debut.
Make a big space and fill it with righteousness. Finland’s Slowenya are born out of an experimentalist hotbed in Turku, and the three-piece do justice to an expectation of far-out tendencies across the nonetheless-concise 31 minutes and six songs of Meadow, their second long-player in as many years. There’s an undercurrent of metal as “Synchronized” holds forth with a resilient, earthy chug, but the melodicism that typifies the vocals running alongside is lighter, born of a proggy mindset and able to keep any overarching aggression in check. With synths, samples, and ambient sounds filling out the mix — not that the massive tonality of the guitar and bass itself doesn’t do the job — a breadth is cast from “Intro” onward through “Nákàn” and the gone-full-YOB swell of “Irrevocable,” which is yet another of the tracks on Meadow one might hear and expect to be 20 minutes long and instead is under seven. The penultimate “Transients” pushes deeper into drone, and “Resonate and Relate” (7:53) caps Slowenya‘s impressive second LP with a due blend of melodic wash and lurching rhythmic physicality, the screams into a sudden stop effectively carrying the threat of more to come. You want to hear this.
As their growing fanbase immediately set about waiting for their third full-length after 2021’s Electric Temple, Norwegian heavy-broodgaze trio Superlynx issued at the very end of the year the Solstice EP, combining covers from Saint Vitus, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, Nat King Cole (because obviously he’d be third on that list) and Nirvana with two originals in “Reorbit” and “Cosmic Wave.” As bassist/vocalist Pia Isaksen has already put out a solo release in 2022, drummer Ole Teigen has a blues band on the side among other projects, and one assumes guitarist Daniel Bakken is up to something else as well, Solstice serves as a welcome holdover of momentum after the album. It’s worth the price of admission (eight Euro) for the take on Nirvana‘s “Something in the Way” alone, but the so-slow-it-sounds-like-it’s-about-to-fall-apart “Reorbit” and the leadoff adaptation of “Born Too Late” enforces that song’s message with a modernized and made-even-more slogging sense of defeat. Maybe we were all born too late. Maybe that’s humanity’s fucking problem. Anyway, after you get this, get Isaksen‘s solo record as Pia Isa. You won’t regret that either, especially with the subdued vibe in some of the material on this one.
The always-hit-record ethic of multinational conglomerate jammers Øresund Space Collective pays dividends once again as Oily Echoes of the Soul emerges publicly — it was previously released in a different form to Bandcamp subscribers — as carved from a session all the way back in 2010. At the time I’m pretty certain all members of the band actually lived in Denmark, but sitarist K.G. Westman, who appeared here while still a member of Siena Root, is from Sweden, so whatever. Ultimately the affair is less about where they’re from than where you’re going while hearing it, which is off to a laid-back, anything goes psychedelic improvisation, beginning with the funky and suitably explorational, half-hour-long opener “Bump and Grind ØSC Style” before moving into the sitar-led “Peace of Mynd” (13:27) and the 24-minute title-track’s organic surges and recessions of volume; proggy, ’70s, and unforced as they are. Before twang-happy and much shorter closer “Shit Kickin'” (4:10), the 15-minute “Deep Breath for the EARTH” offers affirmation of the project’s reliably expansive sound. I’ve made no secret that I listen to this band in no small part for the emotionally and/or existentially soothing facets of their sound. Those are on ready display here, and I’ll be returning to this 12-year-old session accordingly.
Recorded in Dec. 1997 at Zone Six‘s practice space, the two-song Beautiful EP portrays a much different band than Zone Six ultimately became, with Australian-born vocalist Jodi Barry and then-Liquid Visions members Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt (bass, effects), Hans-Peter Ringholz (guitar, noise) and drummer/recording specialist Claus Bühler as well as keyboardist/etc.-ist Rusty and bringing two longform, molten works of pioneering-at-the-time heavy psychedelia. I mean, we’re talking 20 years ahead of their time, at least, here. It’s still forward-thinking. The guitars and breathy vocals in “Something’s Missing” are a joy and “Beautiful” plays off drone-style atmospherics with intermittently jazzy verses and a more active rhythm, winding guitar and pervasively spaced mindbending. Imagining what could’ve been if this record had been finished, one could repaint the scope of 2010s-era European heavy psychedelia as a whole, but on their own, the two extended inclusions on the 23-minute EP are a gorgeous glimpse at this fleeting moment in time. It is what it says it is.
LINK
TO THE PAST
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The Cimmerian, Thrice Majestic
Thrice Majestic and four-times barbarous comes this debut EP release from Los Angeles’ The Cimmerian, a new trio featuring Massachusetts expat David Gein (ex-bass, The Scimitar, etc.) on guitar, and the brand of heavy that ensues readily crosses the line between metal and doom, as the galloping “Emerald Scripture” reinforces directly after the eight-minute highlight and longest groover “Silver and Gold.” Drummer David Morales isn’t shy with the double-kick and neither should he be, and bassist/vocalist Nicolas Rocha has a bark that reminds of Entombed‘s L.G. Petrov, and that is not a compliment I’m ever going to hand out lightly. Lead cut “Howls of Lust and Fury” promises High on Fire-ist thrash in its opening, but The Cimmerian‘s form of pummel goes beyond any single point of inspiration, even on this presumably formative suckerpunch of an EP, which balances intensity and nod in the finishing move “Neck Breaker,” a last growl perhaps the most brutal of all. Fucking a. More of this.
You could probably sit and parse out where Ultracombo are coming from — geographically, it’s Vincenza, Italy — in terms of sound on the sequentially titled follow-up to 2019’s Season I (review here), but to do so denies the double-guitar five-piece credit for the obvious efforts they’ve put into making this material their own. Those efforts pay off in the listening experience of the five-tracker, which runs 25 minutes and so offers plenty enough to make an impression. Witness the slowdown in centerpiece “Umanotest” or the keyboard-or-keyboard-esque lead in the back half of the prior “Follia,” the added jammy feel in “Specchio,” the this-is-the-difference-the-right-drummer-makes “12345” or the return of the synth and an added bit of playfulness before the big ending in — what else? — “La Fine.” That this EP manages to careen and pull such hairpin turns of rhythm is a triumph unto itself. That it manages to do so without sounding like Queens of the Stone Age feels like a fucking miracle. “Dear Ultracombo, Hope you’re well. Time to make an album. Put in an interlude or two depending on space. Sincerely, some dude on the internet.”
Originally issued by the Berlin-based psychedelic explorers in 2004, Psychedelic Scripture is the third full-length from Zone Six behind their 1998 self-titled debut (reissue review here) and 2003’s Any Noise is Intended, the latter of which, like Psychedelic Scripture, came out through Sunhair Records. The version above is a reissue put out by Acid Test Recordings (UK) and Little Cloud Records (US) late in 2021, and the original three extended tracks — “Extremadura” (14:07), “The Pipe Dream” (21:38) and “The Sacred Toad” (14:30) — are joined by two bonus cuts, “Chill In” (6:33) and “Room of No Escape” (17:04), both of which were recorded during the self-titled era, one live on stage in Berlin, the latter at an earlier rehearsal, also in Berlin. Any way you go, it is an immersive, mellow trip made all the more resonant through the expansive atmospheres conjured by keys, guitar, synth, effects, and sundry other cosmic conjurations.
The band at this point was bassist/noisemaker Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt, guitarist/sitarist Hans-Peter Ringholz, keyboardist/intermittent-vocalist Rusty Viltz, synthesist Martin “Modulfix” Schorn, and drummer Claus Bühler, and they recorded the three main tracks at the turn of the century. Why and how they might’ve languished for those four subsequent years, I don’t know — you’d have to ask Sula, I guess; and maybe I will — but these many years later, it matters little in the end. And while we’re talking about time and a release that came out some 18 years ago, it’s amazing to me how tempting it is to listen to what Zone Six were doing back then and think of it as somehow future-looking.
Maybe it was. I mean, certainly in the aesthetic context, listening to “Extremadura” feels predictive of places psychedelia would go, tapping Eastern vibes and drawn-out ambience, drums coming and going and coming again, the focus so clearly on flow and exploration and the sheer adventure of creation itself. It is lush and beautiful but at the same time relatively minimal in terms of volume — that is, at no point does Psychedelic Scripture attempt to overpower the listener or beat them over the head with trippy shenanigans or some such — and if it showed up in my inbox today, I’d call it modern for the production value and the patience of its execution. A remastering job by John McBain doesn’t hurt that I’m sure, but listening to the sparse guitar ringing out about seven minutes into the album opener — reminds me of something that came later I can’t put my finger on; is it Mühr?; in my head I hear soft vocals over it; aha! it’s Uzala‘s “Tenement of the Lost!” whew — the manner in which Zone Six seem to be letting the piece become what it will strikes as nothing if not forward-thinking. Not every band can let go like this, and they continue to do it in “The Pipe Dream” and “The Sacred Toad” as well, each piece taking its own course and giving the listener a world in which to inhabit for its run.
On the other hand, if one thinks about Psychedelic Scripture, and particularly the connotations of the word “scripture” in the title, perhaps these songs were intended as a kind of reading of the tenets of sonic ethereality themselves. An enactment. And drawing on krautrock and improvisational acid jams, one can fit Zone Six into a broad context of what psych rock was and would become. They were not necessarily the first outfit to pursue the cosmos with such methodology — Europe at the time, as now, was awash in ace-level psych; see Nasoni Records, Elektrohasch, and Sula Bassana‘s own Sulatron Records, which started up around 2004 as well — and indeed the bassy pulsations of “The Pipe Dream,” peppered as they are with synthesizer swirls, punctuated eventually by drums, building gradually toward some yet-unknown destination, converse in a language largely unknown to the history of ambient drone and kraut experimentation, the later consuming wash, tempo kick and final reversion to the central figure, be it bass or keys who the hell knows, less a return trip than a final element through the wormhole. V-I-B-E, as in “vibrations of your mind on an plane of universal energies.”
Headphones advised if you’ve got ’em handy, as the depths and reaches of “The Sacred Toad,” the chiming and coursing sounds like flowing water and animal chirrups take hold with a meditative mystique worthy of whatever fullness of attention can be provided. The original Psychedelic Scripture doesn’t so much resolve itself as it does simply end, and from that one can interpret an underlying message as well, of humility perhaps or of one’s recognition of minutia in the face of the unfathomable vastness that surrounds. That is to say, space big, album small. Maybe that’s the point of the scripture in the first place — a means by which to manifest the grandeur outside of time and place, something that is nowhere and everywhere, songs that are nothing and everything, structures that hold up via chemical bond rather than some forced progression of parts. It is beautiful, somehow biological, outsider art.
Though they offered a veritable infinity of live releases between, Psychedelic Scripture was the last Zone Six studio work until 2015’s Love Monster (review here) found them returned as a four-piece with Schmidt and Schorn joined by “Komet Lulu” Neudeck and Rainer Neeff, on bass and guitar, respectively. Both were also members of other bands in the Sulatron sphere, Electric Moon and/or Krautzone, and in addition to playing shows resulting in more live offerings, the band would go on to issue a split with New Zealand’s Arc of Ascent (review here) in late 2018 and the Kozmik Koon LP (review here) in 2019, the latter standing as their latest output. And it’s still vital psych. If you missed it, there’s yet time.
I guess if you’re looking for some lesson from the scripture here, maybe it doesn’t need to be overthought or hyperbolic. Maybe the lesson is this was just what Zone Six were getting up to at the time, and that’s enough. The thing is what you make it and they made it this this time, then they stopped for a while, then they started again. The galaxy spins on, and us with it.
As always, I hope you enjoy. Thanks for reading.
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Next week is PACKED. I’m already overwhelmed and I haven’t even started putting the posts together yet, though I’m headed that way next. It never really stops, you understand.
Thanks if you checked out my appearance on the Heavy Hops podcast for the episode that went live yesterday, and thanks to Alexi D. Front for having me on and Esben Willems for editing, mixing, mastering.
Link is here if you care to listen and thanks if you do: https://scorchedtundra.com/heavy-hops-ep-085-critique-is-an-act-of-storytelling-jj-koczan-the-obelisk/
Parent-teacher conference today. For my pre-K’er. Should be interesting. Last time they were like, “Yo, your kid’s a wreck.” This time I hope for a little bit less of that. That kind of thing can really color a weekend. Shit-brown.
I’m in a rush if you couldn’t tell, but today’s also a new Gimme show if you’re not sick of my ass yet. 5PM Eastern. http://gimmemetal.com.
Sign up for the Vault too so you can listen to old ones and other shows and blastbeats and metal and radio and so on.
And while I’m spending your money, don’t forget today’s Bandcamp Friday. I’ve gotten well over 100 emails this morning reminding me of that fact, and I imagine you have as well, so yeah, go spend money. What’re you saving it for? A new camera lens? Me too. Spend it anyway.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for supporting this site, buying merch from Made in Brooklyn, all that stuff. I’m so appreciative and I value the support so much. It is the encouragement that gets me through the day some days. Yesterday, for example.
I’ll leave it there. Great and safe weekend. Have fun, watch your head. Hydrate. We’re back and forth as ever, but I’ll be around if you need me for anything. You know where to find me.
Posted in Whathaveyou on February 14th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Two separate updates here, one from Electric Moon and one from Sula Bassana, aka Dave Schmidt, himself. The first is the rather surprising news that Schmidt has left Electric Moon, which he’s been part of for more than a decade as a founding member, and the second — markedly less surprising, but welcome — is word of a new solo album by Schmidt under the Sula Bassana banner. Cool beans on that, but if you’d asked, I would’ve listed him as essential personnel along with “Komet Lulu” Neudeck as a founder of Electric Moon. One assumes that the band will continue under her guidance as spearhead all the more for being the lone remaining founder who’s been there the whole time.
Though, it’s worth noting that situations and music are both fluid and it looks like they’re leaving the door open to doing more in the future, so who knows. Never say never until everyone’s dead, then just say holograms. Maybe some day we’ll all be beams of light in the corporate metaverse. Until then, enjoy your vinyl.
Speaking of, here’s news about some:
Dear friends,
Since 2009, Electric Moon’s core were always Lulu and Dave (Sula), so we can imagine, that this announcement seems surreal to y’all.
It’s also surreal for all of us, but sometimes, life happens and makes certain decisions necessary.
Unfortunately, we have to announce, that Electric Moon will go on again as a trio from now on. Dave is leaving the band and so we’ll play all yet confirmed markedly less concerts already without Dave.
Sometimes ways part and new opportunities are given. Dave will go on with Zone Six, Interkosmos and of course solo, and certainly will always be a part of Electric Moon’s journey. Such a close bond cannot be cut and that’s also not intended.
Electric Moon will continue to exist as what it has always been: a formation to celebrate the love of sound and music, and build a symbiosis between audience and band.
Nonetheless, we are looking forward to meeting you at concerts and on and off the road.
Love and peace, Lulu, Sula, Pablo, Joe
Sula Bassana – Nostalgia
Good news:
The mastering for my new solo album is done and I’m super satisfied and super excited and look forward to get the finished copies! sadly we must wait until later this year (maybe september, october?) for the release. it will contain 5 songs, 2 with vocals and again in a band-style, not so much electronic like my latest ones. the fantastic artwork is taken from a painting Hervé Scott Flament did and I’m so happy I can use it! thanks so much! mastering is done by Eroc! everything was recorded again only by myself (guitars, basses, drums, synthesizer, organ, electric sitar, mellotron, vocals…). recordings started in 2013 or so, some very old songs in the meantime. :) latest one started in 2017. but it needed the right feeling to finish them, but now all is done and I’m so relieved!
LP will come in gatefold cover with stunning art, 2 different vinylcolours (lim. to 500 on 2-colour corona vinyl and 500 on black, both 180 gr. vinyl), and on CD.
Nothing says ‘welcome to a new year and new decade’ like playing a bunch of songs from the one that just ended, right? Right? I knew I should’ve gone into marketing.
Still, I wasn’t entirely satisfied with the lack of how much ground was left uncovered by last month’s edition of The Obelisk Show on Gimme Radio. It was an awesome playlist, which I’ll gladly say as the guy who made it, but two hours is just two hours. I could’ve easily gone 10. Dedicating another show to the cause, even just with one a month, seemed like a worthy endeavor. And so it was.
As I write this I’m still waiting to cut voice tracks, but you’ll notice there are only two breaks. I didn’t want to take the extra couple minutes away from music, so I thought one for each hour of the show was fair. Ain’t nobody listening for my “duh, this record’s good” level of insight, and I refuse to fool myself into thinking otherwise. But some of this stuff — Uncle Woe, Stones of Babylon — is new to me. Those two were just sent my way in the last week or so, and they’ll both be covered in the Quarterly Review next week — at least I think they will; should check that list — so I thought to get them a look here as well would be cool. You’ll also notice Zone Six was reviewed this morning. Trying to keep current, at least with myself.
But in with those of course are more 2019 essentials, and I won’t list them twice when you can just read the below. All of these (the newer-to-me stuff notwithstanding) were included in the Best of 2019 feature, so I was thinking of this a little bit as a complement to that. Either way, I hope you dig it.
The Obelisk Show on Gimme Radio airs every first Friday of the month at 1PM Eastern, with replays every Sunday at 7PM Eastern. Next show is Feb. 7. Thanks for checking it out if you do.
Posted in Reviews on January 3rd, 2020 by JJ Koczan
To immediately address the giant psychedelic-neon-rainbow-swirl-pattern elephant in the room: the title of the latest Zone Six LP is, yes, Kozmik Koon. In addition to apparently being Persian for “ass” — thank you, internet — the fact that the word “koon” and more commonly the iteration thereof spelled with a ‘c’ is a racist slur in the US makes it something of an eye-catcher in far from the best way. I’ve been hesitant to review the album because, well, it’s called Kozmik Koon. I’ll come right out and say I don’t think Zone Six are trying to be racists or discriminatory in any way. I haven’t met guitarist Rainer Neeff (also The Pancakes), but I’ve been in touch with drummer/synthesist/keyboardist Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt (also of Electric Moon, Krautzone, etc., and the head of Sulatron Records) he and bassist/synthesist/sometimes-vocalist/noisemaker “Komet Lulu” Neudeck (also of Electric Moon and Krautzone) are hippies. Jammers. I’m going to go out on a limb and give them the benefit of the doubt that they don’t know other countries’ slurs and that the title Kozmik Koon, as they have said, derives from the fact that where they live has a lot of raccoons. Combine that with homage to Kozmik Ken who runs Kozfest, and boom, Kozmik Koon. The initial optic? Not great. But with even a modicum of digging, it’s readily explained by the band where they’re coming from, and sometimes across different languages misunderstandings happen. I’ve always wondered how to say “ass” in Persian.
With cover art by Ulla Papel, who also did the cover for Electric Moon‘s 2012 outing, Doomsday Machine (review here), and who’s also Lulu‘s father, Kozmik Koon is the second Zone Six studio LP since the band made a return after 11 years with 2015’s Love Monster (review here). They’ve had a few live outings, including 2017’s Forever Hugo (review here) and Live Spring 2017 (review here), as well as a 2018 split with New Zealand’s Arc of Ascent (review here), but a studio album from Zone Six doesn’t happen every day, and indeed, Kozmik Koon collects five tracks comprised of recordings produced and mixed by Schmidt from a period between 2015 and 2018, resulting in a 44-minute long-player that’s distinguished particularly for its emotional resonance despite being almost if not entirely instrumental — that is, if there’s voice here, it’s atmospheric singing mixed into the slow-churning space-rock fray, rather than clear lyrics in verses. Nonetheless, across the two longer-form openers “Maschinenseele” (12:53) and “Kozmik Koon” (10:58) and the closer “Song for Richie” (13:52) — which opens with a sample of Timothy Leary’s “turn on, tune in, drop out” speech and is dedicated to a friend of the band who passed away — as well as the two shorter pieces that separate that initial salvo from the finale, “Raum” and “Still,” both of which hover around three and a half minutes, Zone Six harness a progressive sense not only of composition in Neeff‘s guitar work but in the lush melodies in electric piano, synth, Mellotron, and so on, that surround.
There are moments that feel referential in the keyboard line in the later reaches of the title-track and in the soaring guitar of “Song for Richie,” but Zone Six‘s primary impact is hypnotic and their modus cleverly avoids some of jam-based heavy psychedelia’s most prevalent traps in terms of structure. First and foremost, it doesn’t get stuck in a linear build. Neeff, Neudeck and Schmidt bring together plenty of dynamic throughout, from the explorations of “Maschinenseele” to the drone-minded centerpiece “Raum,” but it’s not just about starting quiet and getting louder as they go. Rather, the longer pieces that comprise the bulk of the record each seem to find their own way through shifts of volume and meter, and the feeling is organic as they move toward and into more active and more ambient sections. It is less pointedly improv-sounding than what Schmidt and Neudeck do with Electric Moon, but the depth of the mix is such that a feeling of spontaneity persists just the same, with the drums as a careful anchor punctuating the drift of “Maschinenseele” and the uptempo space rock in the first half of the title-cut, which hits with enough of an underlying Hawkwindian spirit to remind of some of The Heads‘ outbound scorch. These are not vibes easily tamed, and Zone Six are only so interested in taming them in the first place, but the album is, again, not without purpose, and its emotional expression, particularly in the quiet “Still” and “Song for Richie,” comes across in palpable fashion even without the direct aid of lyrics.
“Still” has a bouncing keyboard line that’s still somehow wistful and calls to mind a more patient take on ’70s prog, but devolves into effects ahead of drifting into silence before “Song for Richie” starts with a volume swell of guitar drone, and very much turns out to be a piece led by Neeff‘s soloing. There’s little doubt that “Song for Richie,” as well as “Kozmik Koon” and the opener before it are based on jams, and “Still” and “Raum” have an in-studio-experimentalist vibe as well, but they have been fleshed out with effects and synth and keys, and thereby carry more of a worked-on feel rather than the straight-ahead rawness that sometimes persists in the style (nothing against it), adding to the underlying feeling of intent. Though mastered by Eroc, perhaps the real credit should go to Schmidt on establishing the mix of all the elements at play. A vast sonic breadth is laid out across “Maschinenseele” and only continues to spread wider as the LP plays out, and even as “Song for Richie” pushes through its apex at around 10 minutes in, there is as much depth to factor in as there is sheer energy of performance. It is that much more, then, for the listener to dive into, and whether one chooses to lose one’s head in its trance-inducing, let-me-lead-you-from-this-place-to-another-place psychedelic meander, or to peel through the layers of nuance and drone and “which manner of synthesizer just made that noise again?,” Kozmik Koon delivers the kind of engagement one could only expect from masters of the form, and with a history stretching back some 23 years, Zone Six are most certainly that. What’s in a name? Plenty. But there’s even more when one actually listens.
Posted in Reviews on December 31st, 2018 by JJ Koczan
Among the releases one might encounter and consider a no-brainer, a split LP that finds Arc of Ascent and Zone Six sharing room has to be among the easiest of duh-inducers. “Wait, you mean you’re going to pair up New Zealand cosmic metaphysical rock with German prog-infused space stoner jams? It’ll never work! It’s too crazy!” Except it’s not. At all. It’s brilliant. And it does absolutely work. Headspin Records is the imprint no-doubt-proudly standing behind the vinyl pressing, and if I hadn’t already posted my list of the year’s best short releases — which it would count as because it’s a split, i.e. basically an EP from each band — surely Arc of Ascent and Zone Six‘s combined efforts would’ve earned a place thereupon. Running 45 minutes with two extended cuts from Arc of Ascent and one even-more extended piece from Zone Six, it’s the kind of release that I consider writing about doing myself a favor because it means I get to listen to it a bunch of times.
For Arc of Ascent, their “Black Seed” and “Serpents 25” stand in as their first offering since marking their return from hiatus with 2017’s Realms of the Metaphysical (review here), and both songs bear the hallmarks of craft belonging to bassist/vocalist Craig Williamson. Also known for his work as the acid-drenched one-man outfit Lamp of the Universe, Williamson brings a fervent, crunching progression to “Black Seed” set to the riffs from guitarist Matt Cole-Baker and the roll of drummer Mark McGeady, who made his first appearance with the band on the last record but seems to have had no trouble fitting in with their spacious and spacey style. “Black Seed” checks in at 12:08 and “Serpents 25” — think of the number 25 as two snakes intertwined, with their heads facing apart from each other — at 11:13, so there’s plenty of time to go exploring, and the three-piece do precisely that while also pushing closer to Williamson‘s work with Lamp of the Universe than they’ve ever done before on the latter track.
As a fan of the band, I’d consider that in itself enough of a forehead-slapper to seek it out, but even for those unfamiliar with Arc of Ascent or Lamp of the Universe or Williamson‘s prior outfit, Datura, the spiritualism of the riffing in “Black Seed” and the push into psychedelic liquidity of “Serpents 25” are enough to make for a rousing introduction to their expanding scope. I’m not sure the origins of the songs in terms of when they were recorded, but it’s possible they were originally intended for a split with The Re-Stoned, and either way, the first of them immediately shows its hook, stomp and nodder groove. It’s quick into the verse and chorus, and while of course it takes its time as a 12-minute song inherently will, the band never really departs from the central structure, such that the maddening heft and crash that emerges in “Black Seed”‘s second half is still cognizant of where it came from.
They don’t go so far as to return to the verse or chorus at the end, but neither do they need to, having not veered so far from them in the first place. To contrast, “Serpents 25” is a reinterpretation of “Master of the Serpents” from the band’s debut, Circle of the Sun (review here), driven by acoustics, hand percussion and Eastern inflection of melody. There is a “plugged” guitar solo that picks up in waves shortly before the midpoint, but even then, the song maintains its peaceful vibe as it cycles through and back to the chorus en route to further acoustic/electric exploration and a finish of sitar. If you told me it was just Williamson handling the instruments, I’d have to believe it — it’s certainly within the range of what he’s done on his own before — but there’s also a fuller sound to the production of “Serpents 25” that fits with “Black Seed” before it and Arc of Ascent‘s work on the whole. It is not, in other words, a three-way split by any other name — although names come into some further curiosity as Zone Six consume the entirety of side B with the 21:52 sprawl of “Hyperspace Overdrive.”
The long-running, on and off-again krautwash purveyors here feature guitarist Dave “Sula Bassana” Schmidt, bassist “Komet Lulu” Neudeck and apparently-sans-alias drummer Pablo Carneval — otherwise known as the current lineup of Electric Moon. When Zone Six released the live album Live Spring 2017 (review here), they had Rainer Neeff on guitar and Schmidt on drums, so whatever brought the change about, “Hyperspace Overdrive” is essentially Electric Moon playing Zone Six. If that’s not enough to make your head explode, then surely the song itself will. It is a patient, effects-laced space rock wash, all thrust as it bounds out of the atmosphere in the first half — sampled countdown included — before reaching a point of blissful drift in its second movement and returning to ground with even greater velocity and gravity before an ending of leftover thruster burn finishes out.
Energy-wise, it is more active than much of what Electric Moon might produce under that banner, but there’s little mistaking Sula Bassana on guitar and Lulu on bass, the depths and reaches cast by their swirling effects and rhythms. Whatever band you want to call it, “Hyperspace Overdrive” is next-level Hawkwindian, a massive interstellar reach that pushes distortion the way asteroids slam into each other and splinter off in multiple directions. The better part of the last four minutes is dedicated to the ending, which holds out effects drone and a long string of kosmiche minimalism. At the end, the audience departs the wormhole and is somehow back where it started, out of phase with what’s normally thought of as spacetime, but otherwise uninjured. As a fan as well of Zone Six and of the players comprising this incarnation thereof, there’s absolutely nothing more one might ask of its molten flow or turned-on mindset.
Like I said at the outset, it’s a no-brainer. It’s a pairing that works on paper and a pairing that works on a platter. I’ll be interested to see what Zone Six do from here and who’s involved, and Williamson will have a new Lamp of the Universe release out early in 2019 on Schmidt‘s Sulatron Records imprint, so this is by no means the last collaboration between these players/entities. Will we ever get to the point where Williamson sits in with either Zone Six or Electric Moon for a jam? I guess that’s the big question left to answer by this split, but either way, even on opposite sides of the vinyl, Arc of Ascent and Zone Six have no trouble working toward parallel ends.
