ABDULLAH / DRAGONAUTA – "SPLIT"
Dias De Garage
Yet another split, but check out Abdullah's impressive, uplifting, hook-laden doom though.
For the delight and delectation of all you nocturnal, tombstone stompers, that notable Argentinean indie label, Dias De Garage has forcefully sutured two divergent doom outfits together and created a lumbering, brimstone spewing behemoth.
For an exultant cornucopia of Sabbathoid night emissions look no further, starting with the impressive, Abdullah who have recorded some primo, hook-laden, mountainous, and decidedly uplifting doom... Latterly they vacillated wildly betwixt NWOBHM scree an' bombast and dense fruggable doom, and they have considerably refined their swollen, head-shop grooves, finally perfecting the deliriously infectious, head-swirling, and soaring vocal harmonies only hinted at before. Along with Solace, Abdullah are clearly destined to rule amongst the higher echelons of melodic doom, effortlessly usurping their peers with 6 slabs of rich, euphoric vocals and granite heaviness.
Dragonauta remain a troublesome outfit for me since their pill-popping, crazoid hybrid of Alistair Crowley doom and Z-Movie psyche-out guitar madness, while striking and original is sadly hamstrung by excruciating, ill pitched, tone deaf vocals. That said, fans of Luciferatu will toke themselves dizzy on these spooky jams, again, the prog-inflected musicianship is sterling, but Church of Misery do this spahn ranch doom nut baggery with considerably more aplomb, and with vocals that don't induce chronic tinnitus. A masterpiece from Abdullah, and more of a fragrant codpiece from Dragonauta.
jason
THE ABOMINABLE IRON SLOTH - "S/T"
Undergroove
A riff-junkie's fix.
Sabbath were the progenitors of malevolent, bathysphere crushing guitar gloom and the mighty Sleep were arguably it's illegitimate, hemp-addled spawn, and it would appear that many contemporary bands were similarly weaned on Matt Pike's monstrous Gibsonic mantras and The Abominable Iron Sloth are thankfully no exception.
There is a [dis]comforting aura of familiarity to the unrelenting barrage of pendulous, de-tuned thuggery, a righteous peon to the likes of High on Fire, Floor and Torche who discharge a similarly subterranean, inviolable Matamp lurch.
With a phantasmagorical moniker seemingly culled from the airbrushed machismo of John Norman's Gor series, replete with suitably voluptuous riffs, the circumphrence of which would subsume Zeus himself, disgorging cavernous, tube-amped, bong tones seemingly dragged, torturously through the broiling filth of a primordial swamp.
At 25 minutes long its brevity is astute since the album terminates long before you want it to. The Abominable Iron Sloth should be a mandatory purchase for elephantine riff junkies. Be warned!!!
Janus-faced, worshippers of false metal will find no quarter here, so be thou a callow follower of corporate rebellion, a craven dilettante, and one who blithely professes affection for heavy metal yet only when the zeitgeist allows shalt be forever silenced by, The Abominable Iron Sloth.
jason
AGNOSIS – "HECATE"
Self-Released
If you are a fan of Eyehategod and / or Crowbar then you could do much worse than to check this record out.
Agnosis are a doom band through and through, and "Hecate" is three tracks of vicious, bludgeoning, stoner doom. There are some slightly melodic sections serving to highlight the heaviness, think Crowbar by way of Cathedral and you wouldn't be far off.
The vocals are screamed with real passion by guitarist / vocalist Austin Lynn who just rejoined the band as they reinvented themselves as a three-piece for 2006. He is alongside Andrew Jude Riotto on bass and Will Schwartz on drums, and boy, do they sound like more people than that! At times they reach a plateau of heaviness that a five guitar band would struggle to match.
First track 'Unholy Lord' is almost doom by numbers, but serves as a nice introduction to the band for the first time listener. It's the second song, 'And Yet We Fight To Win', that really does it for me.
Swinging from a heavy sludge grind to almost Sabbath-esque melodies, the track ends on a fine thrashy note.
Finally, 'The End-Times' kicks in and smacks you in the face with its thrash metal introduction, before a wailing guitar lead takes the song in altogether new direction. This is a song full of bile and anger and is far superior to the opening track, and swings the entire EP for me. The extra emotion adds that little something I feel the other tracks were missing.
The heavy slower sections certainly play a great dynamic game with the faster thrash parts, and keep it fresh. The song works itself into a thrash-based frenzy towards the 7 minute mark and the intensity of the backline coupled with a traditional thrash style solo rounds the song off well. So then, a nice slab of doom for the man about town, but it is certainly not uplifting [not that it's meant to be].
dave e destruction
ALDEBARAN / SOD HAULER - "SPLIT"
Inimical Records
Yet more nihilistic doom, but Aldebaran does it fuckin' great.
Aldebaran are a hearty triumvirate of sludgephonic doom nihilists who tune both their vocals and guttural, slack-jawed Gibson's all the way to the 9th circle of hell, and bellow out an eerie, cathartic and decidedly murderous sludge grunt that echoes a similar misanthropic pitch to both YOB or Noothgrush. Their Obsidian swamp riffage and near static bass terrorism coagulates into a hearty and bilious doom gumbo, so, if you, like me, mourn the untimely passing of the mighty Yob, grieve no more as Aldebaran's thunderous, 'Regions of the Dead (12 hours of darkness)' track is an epic, debilitating cauldron of scabrous doom. ESSENTIAL.
After the imperious might of Aldebaran, the splendidly monikered Sod Hauler sound a little prosaic, their muffled, pendulous, Holy Mountain riffage oozes a respectable stoner ballast, but sadly lacks the acid contrast of Matt Pike's hellblazer leads. Three tracks of adequate, leaden, swamp boogie of scant interest to anyone outside of the most forgiving, and beffudled hemp rockers.
jason
AMENRA – "III"
Hypertention Records
Finally, someone in noise-coreland gets it right.
Clearly revelling in their vast, coruscating guitar tones and ballsack-in-vice screecharoo, Amenra aren't about beguiling anyone with delicate fronds of sound, instead erupting in engorged riffage ensnaring one with monstrous, lava-like dissonance. This is well executed, astringent noise-core where cathartic, substrata guitar grind is stretched to bursting point only to retreat beneath broiling clouds of spare, euphoric melody.
While this weighty, primordial ebb and flow owes much to mood alchemists, Neurosis, this is no mere plagiarism, since Amenra successfully generates a rusty vortex of angst very much of their own creation. This is a coiled, brooding piece, rigorous with pendulous rhythms, entwined with a fearsome percussive shunt. As complete as Amenra's "III" sounds I can't help but feel that this is the mere genesis of something truly great, given the level of passion inherent within these heavily wrought grooves one becomes giddy with expectation for their next convulsive opus.
jason
AMONG THE MISSING – "DISORDER OF THE TEMPLAR"
Withered Hand Records
True Rizlacore.
That most micro of musical genre's; Rizlacore swells under the demonstrative weight of this suitably cantankerous offering, whilst adding nothing new to Iron Monkey's or Helvis' patented, sludge-punk oeuvre [I noticed to my joy that Bloody Kev lends his scabrous vox to a couple of tracks, huzzah!].
Among The Missing nonetheless successfully manage to stupefy the listener with ample crusts of comatose, Sabbathian lurch, with Cro-Magnon drums, sloppier than an O.A.P's sphincter, and skunk-addled, voluminous G-tars immersing the whole album in a plentiful slurry of bio-toxic riff gloop that should awaken even the most opiated Weedeater fan. This is either the majestic roar of the conqueror worm feasting upon the feculent, purgatorial hordes or merely the questionable bombast of shiftless, beery nerks, either way it will swiftly alienate all with an ounce of decency.
An uncouth album terminally bereft of originality but which more than compensates with a cacophony of charmless, shrieking vocals and methadone grunt. I like it, more please [track 11, 'Take a Drag' is the ultimate stoner anthem, which is admittedly inverse praise, yet it unleashes so monstrous a salvo of corpulent bong chords that you'll be whistling said riff for weeks, so, pucker up motherfuckers!!!].
Jason
ANTLER – "NOTHING THAT A BULLET COULDN'T CURE"
Small Stone Records
Comprised of Roadsaw and Quintaine Americana members, Antler is takin' the listener on a boozy trip to the south side of the Mason Dixie line with the release of their sophomore album.
With a machismoid moniker like Antler, coupled with a suitably heehaw title and six gun graphic one might initially be put off by all this rumpled, Zane Grey cowboy mysticism, but the music herein is thankfully more diverse than the pedestrian iconography would allow for. Those looking for instantaneous, amplified red neck catharsis should look elsewhere, since Antler are quite possibly the most eloquent and eclectic sounding of Small Stone's acts, and it has to be said they weave a considerably more emotive rock tapestry than their more boisterous label mates.
"Nothing That A Bullet Couldn't Cure" is a fragrant peon to life's most wearing tribulations, and these eleven bruised, rhinestone odes to boozy misfortune are sung with great restraint by Craig Riggs and he is ably backed by some talented musicians who fortunately know how to rev it up when they have to.
This seemingly incongruous blend of Money Mark's evocative, rainy day keyboards and noirish, road movie angst is remarkably effective, and amongst the tarnished, whiskey smoked balladry you even get some inspired flashes of Mick Ronson guitar burn which neatly tempers the heavy velvet seam of poignancy that broils at the core of this album. The muscular Scissorfight boogie of 'Deep in a Hole' and the elegiac 'Black Eyed Stranger' are songs of considerable merit and a glowing testament to Antler's bravura song writing skills.
"Nothing That A Bullet Couldn't Cure' is gloriously redolent with bleary-eyed, dishevelled melancholia and I can only really find fault with the slight dearth of swollen riffage that made "Deep in a Hole" so compulsive a listen, and another demonstrative rocker would've leavened the woozy and introspective glare.
This is quality rock music and richly deserves to be enjoyed outside of the cloistered, hemp-fugged realms of Stoner Rock. I personally feel that it was a prescient move for Small Stone to have signed a subtler act like Antler, as evidenced here they could well record something quite magnificent next time out. Since the band wisely eschews the use of lumpen, bong rock cliché this heady music requires a few dedicated listens before the hooks begin to penetrate, but by then the discerning rock fan should be well smitten.
jason.
Antler's Tim Catz: "After our 2004 self-titled debut was warmly received, Antler enjoyed an unspoken victory among the six of us. We weren't sure how our new sound would go over with those familiar with our former bands heavier history.
Thankfully, most people dug the rootsier more melodic approach and on a sloppy sparse Wednesday stop in Detroit, long time Roadsaw fan and Small Stone honcho Scott Hamilton bought shots and offered Antler a home on his stellar roster. Soon afterward ex-Roadsaw guitarist Ian Ross and Quintaine Americana bass player Marc Schleicher climbed into the new line up and muscled up the sound."
"Rolling confidently into 2006, Antler gathered in the warm and familiar Mad Oak Studios, which just so happens to be owned and operated by our singer Craig Riggs. His vocal talents are equally matched by his production and engineering skills. Turning away fromthe safe tidy ways of our debut sessions, Riggs's gritty go for broke who gives a shit twist was liberating and absolutely necessary.
"Nothing That A Bullet Couldn't Cure" packs 11 ragged chapters into the black wax. The grooves lean deep, dark and hard to knock out sparks. It's a damaged It's a damaged classic that scratches that black crack in the back of your skull." Read Tim's studio report.
ASTEROID / BLOWBACK - "SPLIT"
Fuzzorama Records
More spliff heavy stoner rock.
Huzzah for Fuzzorama Records as just when the thought of listening to yet another stoner rock album had all the allure of a brain aneurysm, this double-barrelled, bong blast discharged some amenably dumb an' fun, retro boogaloo. While both band's mine a similar Iommi-rich vein of bouncy, resinous, spliff-heavy goon rock, it's well executed, recorded zestfully, with just enough muscle car grunt behind all the splashy cymbals, delirious wah-wahs, and hirsute Gibson fuzz to contrast effectively against the mellifluous, Age of Aquarius vocals.
Of the two, Asteroid weave the most idiosyncratic take on blissed-out stoner rock, since they infuse their lumpen, infectious Q.O.T.A riff fruggage with some psyched out, sonic rainbows. Bomb Riff of the album award goes to Asteroid as their magnificently demonstrative, 'Holy Skies' track penetrates your mind with intravenous doom tones on par with doom grooveonauts 'Abdullah'.
The Asteroid / Blowback split CD is a righteous purchase for beardy fuzz gannets for whom pungent, mariju-wah-wah-groove will always be the dish of the day. Fans of Black Debbath, Dozer, The Satellite Circle, El Caco et al will get a mule kick outta these 12 interstellar lava jams, 'cause I sure as heckfire did!
jason
ATAVIST – "S/T"
Invada Records
Welcome to the funeral pyre.
Should you crave grievous, moss-laden funereal atmospheres, where impossibly swollen, inverted chords blearily attempt to find purchase within the icy, stygian depths of prehistoric waters… Then prepare to gird thine shrivelled loins as these vast, prehensile, oozing columns of slitherous doom inexorably subsumes the listener -as if one had the misfortune of tripping into a seemingly innocent, leafy puddle, only to find to your chagrin that your terminal breath was moments away from being expunged by a murderously viscous cauldron of dense, leaden quicksand.
The stark inevitability of death curdles through these voluminous reveries of spite like a tumult of blowfly larvae eagerly feasting upon a rigid, ill-smelling corpse, as the gothic erudition of M.R James blithely and most deviously immerses the gentle reader amongst impenetrable shadows of fear, crawling with unspeakable horror's. Atavist equally dares you to stare fixedly into a malevolent, pungent maw of sludgy despond.
In a prescient move Atavist's triptych of rancorous, guitar subterraneania doesn't merely assault you with unrelenting, lunatic dirge like those venomous Japanese doom savage's, corrupted, but lovingly coerces one into their stultifying Lovecraftian mire with melancholic, fragile wisps of guitar ephemera. And then trapping you resolutely in mammoth, sepulchral mangroves of cloying, resinous doom.
Listening to Atavist's debut album is akin to bearing horrifying witness to the torturously slow, bestial shriek of the damned. Along with Ocean's coruscating and simarly topographic, "Here Where Nothing Grows" - the true doom epicurean is bound to cherish this hefty, and profoundly slothful opus
jason
Atavist' Chris Naughton: "The album was recorded in 2 x 7 hour sessions over a period of six months from December 2004 to June 2005, and features three tracks. The first song on the album titled "31:38" was recorded whilst on tour with SUNN O))) in December 2004 as we had a free day after playing a show at the Cluny in Newcastle the night before."
"We booked the Soundroom for a session the next day and after setting up / working on the sound we recorded the song live in one take [which was really pleasing as the song is 31mins and 38 secs long).
Atavist are not the sort of band that would be comfortable doing an album track by track as timing and structure are important features in our songs and we all need to watch each other closely to make things work as planned." Read Chris' studio report.
ATOMIC WORKERS - "EMBRIONIC SUICIDE"
Nasoni Records
Fuzzed out guitar extrapolations from Sun Dial [Gary Ramon] and That's All Folks [Michele Rossiello] members.
The pleasure starts as soon you set your eyes on the album. "Embrionic Suicide" comes in a beautiful gatefold package
with some cool psychedelic artwork. The experience builds as you pull out the enourmous thick slabs of vinyl [180 gram]. Spinning
the platter reveals the Atomic Worker's warm take on heavy psych, the music varies from stomping garage-stoner barrages, to cosmic wailing fuzz guitars and a beautiful rendition of Donovan's 'Hurdy Gurdy.'
At times it's fairly straight forward, at others, quite trippy, with a great psychedelic vibe giving way to three chord simplicity. There are several changes of volume, pace, colour and direction, but all of these heavy psych extrapolations seems to logically emanate from that which preceded it. The Atomic Workers are forging a path of their of their own in modern
psychedelica, and are a welcome addition to the scene.
walter
BLACK COBRA – "BESTIAL"
Atalossrecordings / Delboy Records
Ex memebers of 16 and Cavity return with a pulversing debut full-length.
This feisty follow-up to Black Cobra's brief yet fiendishly heavy 3 track EP has gleefully exceeded all my expectations as these 11 seething grunts of Goliath sludge-punk shalt neither be felled by David's humble slingshot or sniper's bullet since these adamantine riffs could withstand a greasy fisting from Jon Mikl Thor himself! You're unlikely to hear a more feral fuzz tone this year unless you stitched your bloody ear pipes to a Jabberwocky's smoke-belching arsehole.
Try to imagine a particularly vitriolic Randy Holden strangling his SG beneath a monolithic tower of Orange amplifiers of such a vertiginous height as to endanger air traffic and you may have an inkling of "Bestial's" malevolent, voluminous discharge that demonstratively engulfs ones head as if between the powerful jaws of a meat starved alligator. This potent two-man outfit features ex-members of bellicose noiseniks, Cavity and 16 whose ability to generate singular buzz bomb slurry core remains resolutely intact, and "Bestial" eclipses the latter bands in terms of sheer viciousness.
Production is visceral with a scuzzy, D.I.Y bite that echoes the snotty sturm und drang of "Gluey Porch Treatments." Not since Iron Monkey's seminal "No Problem" album have I been so pole axed by Sabs-gone-metal viciousness, and it is unlikely you shall hear anything heavier than "Bestial" this year since it effortlessly trumps the considerable emissions of both Lair of The Minotaur & The Abominable Iron Sloth. "Bestial" is heavier than Crowbar's picnic hamper. Go buy this and smash up some cunt's Range Rover.
jason
Black Cobra's Rafa: "We only had 8 days to get everything recorded and mixed, we really needed to focus on working as efficiently as possible. All the drum tracks were recorded first which took about two days to finish. Jason did his guitar tracks next. The vocals were last along with special effects."
"The first couple of songs we worked on were 'Broken On the Wheel', 'Sombra De Bestia', and 'Kay Dur Twenty.' There were a lot of tempo shifts on some of these songs so we went trough a couple of different takes where songs were faster or slower than the original tempos we had planned on. Next we worked on 'One Nine', 'Thrown From Great Heights', and 'Omniscient'. We decided to work on these songs at the same times since they were all high octane." Read Rafa's studio report.
|
