Hey, an awesome uber-heavy band from Sweden, what a surprise! Last list we had Salem's Pot, also now on the same label comes this album from psychedelic stoner sludge outfit Monolord. (As in, Lord of the Monolithic riffage!) What they do, and do well, are massive mesmeric doom jams, derived from the devolved DNA of old grandads Black Sabbath. While that's nothing we haven't heard before from the likes of OM and Electric Wizard, Nibiru and UFOmammut, Gonga and Sleep, we're still suckers for it - the blown out speaker-rumbling amplifier worship, the repetitive riffs, extended song structures, the mantric vocal chants (utilizing an echoing underwater-y sort of effect, much more stoned sounding that way). There's five long songs here, one of 'em an instrumental, the others featuring fantastical, occult lyrics fixated on death and ritual. It's OM/Sleep, perhaps, that these ceremonial riff/chant tracks remind us of most, not a bad thing at all. Recommended to all who like to be able to throw on a disc, crank the volume, and be helplessly, hypnotically buried beneath a slow moving, oozing mound of HEAVY.
First off, go see these guys if you get the chance. It's a crazed rock spectacle, kinda like Japan's DMBQ but more dangerous, or at least shirtless. They live up to the hype you may have heard about their live performances, that's for sure. This guitar/drums/vocals trio from Israel are very, very rock n' roll, and they know how to put on a show. Probably everyone who's ever seen them has a good story, likely to include the drummer soloing whilst simultaneously crowd surfing, and the band's wiry, longhaired, mustachioed frontman (who looks like a cross between Iggy Pop and Doug Henning) energetically scampering about, spilling many, many audience members' beers (grabbing 'em with his teeth and tossing them back over his head, usually, at least if they're served in plastic cups). Allan's Monotonix show story even involves a goat!
But, the question remains, does any of that translate on record? Well this six song, 24 minute Drag City debut should answer that question. It reveals some depth to the riffy, hard and heavy, good times rock they dish out at their shows, with more melody and intricacy certainly (surprisingly). The title track, ferinstance, is almost prog pop! Yet, they don't stint on the fuzzy guitar and pounding drums we were expecting either, so if you play it loud, you might manage to spill a beer or two on yourself at home. If you just see 'em live, what you'll remember is how they played, not what they played. But spin this a few times, and some of these riffs may get stuck in your bangin' head. However, Monotonix live is a tough act to follow, which is their own damn fault, and so this still seems a bit secondary, like, they've gotta make records, if only to have something to sell on tour. But it is nice to see that they've put some effort into this aspect of the Monotonix experience too, instead of totally coasting on their live insanity.
Hard to believe that there was a time when Monster Magnet were not goofy cartoon parodies of metallic space rock (and we mean that in a good way). We love their ridiculous lyrics, overblown I AM GOD themes, their obsession with hotrods and honies and loads and loads of drugs, and of course their sound, that Hawkwind on steroids super RAWK. But there was a time, when Monster Magnet were fucking scary. A drug drenched musical outerspace acid trip, a BAD trip, all blown out guitars, every pedal turned all the way up, amps to infinity, face behind a greasy mop of hair, house lights off, black lights on, one riff beaten to death and launched heavenward. This was that time. It was a satanic drug thing they used to say. And it sounds like it. Originally released in 1991, "Tab" is arguably the band's finest moment, 30 minutes of outerspace drug rock divinity. The ultimate slab of psychedelic downer drug rock. The first 6 or 7 minutes are a primitive Krautrocky jam, simple propulsive drum beat, wordless vocals, sparse instrumentation, before the drugs really kick in, then "Tab" becomes a supecharged Loop or Spacemen 3, all fuzzy guitars, and swirls of reverb and delay and every other effect under the sun. Over the course of the next 20 minutes the guitars get more freaked out, the vocals get distorted and delayed and shot into space, the effects take over completely until the band is barely audible under the dizzying sonic chaos. So blissfully divine. "25" is way more rocking, a pounding drum beat, and a ripping garage rock riff, vocals a super distorted smear of sound, again the whole thing drenched in space rock goo and blown out rawk madness. "Longhair" is a lazy laidback psychdrone groove, stoned and staggering, giving Kyuss a style and sound to rip off for sure. And the final track "Lord 13" is a shuffling spacerock raga, with shuffling percussion, hand drums, strummed acoustic guitar, all under that ubiquitous druggy haze.
For this new reissue, they've tacked on a 7 minute live version of "Spine Of God". Murky and lo-fi, but appropriately druggy and spacey, with plenty of hilarious crowd conversations between folks who were oblivious to the fact that they were standing RIGHT next to the guy taping the show, but the mighty power of "Spine Of God" is untouchable, a slowly uncoiling dirge, that is somehow only enhanced by the dipshit telling his friend about some new tape he got.
It's a satanic drug thing. You wouldn't understand.
We posted this on the New Arrivals list a couple times sans review, just so the MM fanatics and various other folks who didn't necessarily need a review to know this was something they needed, but promised then that we would offer a more comprehensive review of this, a brand new 10" (the second in a series) from our favorite Space Lord Motherfuckers, the mighty Monster Magnet, who whipped up these jams to sell on their recently wrapped up Dopes To Infinity 2011 tour, which as the name suggests, found the band revisiting their classic album of the same name from 1995, which is what this 10" is all about, three tracks from Dopes To Infinity, "King Of Mars", "All Friends and Kingdom Come", and the title track, all reimagined, reworked and according to the band, "Lo-fi, decidedly deranged and extremely psychedelic", which definitely describes these doped up, blissed out, cosmic stoner rock space-psych blowouts.
"All Friends" is definitely more lo-fi than the original, transformed into more of a spaced out creep, with lots of extra effects, but it's not until "King Of Mars", that the reimagining becomes more dramatic, the sound even trippier than the original, ominous and satanically sinister, total drug rock ear candy for sure, and then "Dopes To Infinity", which was already pretty much perfect as it was way back in 1995, is just somehow made MORE perfect, or maybe -differently- perfect, it's tough to even listen objectively, cuz once that instantly familiar riff came in we were GONE, totally transported to some hedonistic offworld drug den, where MM are the house band, black lights and alien babes and amps from here to high heaven. Fucking awesome! Of course.
And as we've mentioned in other MM reviews, it's a satanic drug thing, you wouldn't... well, wait a second... since you're reading the aQ list, you probably DO understand. So grab one of these before they're gone (we're one of the only places this is available)...
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
Hands down, Monster Magnet are Andee's favorite stoner metal / cock rock band. Huge riffs, catchy songs, and the most brilliantly inane lyrics about the universe, sponge baths, asteroids, volcanoes, muscle cars, love slaves, Satan, pot, death, and of course, penises! Really.
Now available domestically, for those who sweated out their Monster Magnet addictions and held off buying the expensive import version that we've had for a few months. The same reveiw applies: the newest record from the reigning kings of drugged out
We're gonna just come out and say it. Monster Magnet have NEVER made a bad record. Ever. They've come close for sure. And there have definitely been some bad songs, but every record has had at least a handful of MM classics. Sure maybe once they made the shift to a more pop oriented sound, there was no hope of them ever making another Spine Of God. But that was just fine with us, we love Dopes To Infinity or Powertrip as much as we love Spine Of God. To be fair, being superfans, we're probably not the most objective when it comes to MM, but we will say, the last couple of records, Monolithic Baby and 4-Way Diablo, were probably the weakest of all the MM records. That said, there was plenty on both to dig, just in comparison to some of the other stone cold classics, those two maybe paled. So we were maybe expecting more of the same, another Monster Magnet record, that maybe didn't rule, but that was pretty great, and had at least a few killer jams, but then BLAM. First song in, and we're digging the heaviest, fiercest MM record in ages. "Hallucination Bomb" is low slung and sinister, swaggering epic stoner space rock bliss, fat fuzzy bass, a killer main riff, wild loose leads, and ridiculous over the top lyrics, what more could we ask for? How about a whole record that good! That's right, you got it, solid top to bottom, with another clutch of ridiculously genius song titles too: "Bored With Sorcery", "The Titan Who Cried Like A Baby", insanely inspired lyrics like "I'm a pumped out freak on a big wheel..." and some of the sickest riffs since God Says No.
We could go song by song, but why bother, if you're like us, you'd buy a new Monster Magnet no matter what, and the fact that it totally rules, only makes it that much better. And if you've somehow made it this far without hearing MM, holy shit man, what's wrong with you, total epic over the top stoner space rock genius of the highest order, buy this one, then go get Spine Of God, Superjudge, Dopes To Infinity, hell, you're gonna want them all. And odds are you'll have a new favorite band. It's a Satanic drug thing, you wouldn't understand. Trust us.
Absolutely recommended.
Fancy Black Friday Record Store Day version of this latest slab of hook filled stoner space rock heaviness from these long time aQ faves, comes as a deluxe digibook, with two bonus tracks, housed in a fancy box with a little window through which you can peep the USB drive, which contains the whole record in MP3 form, bonus tracks and all, as well as ringtones, an interview with MM mastermind Dave Wyndorf, desktop wallpapers and a Napalm Records sampler...
We're gonna just come out and say it. Monster Magnet have NEVER made a bad record. Ever. They've come close for sure. And there have definitely been some bad songs, but every record has had at least a handful of MM classics. Sure maybe once they made the shift to a more pop oriented sound, there was no hope of them ever making another Spine Of God. But that was just fine with us, we love Dopes To Infinity or Powertrip as much as we love Spine Of God. To be fair, being superfans, we're probably not the most objective when it comes to MM, but we will say, the last couple of records, Monolithic Baby and 4-Way Diablo, were probably the weakest of all the MM records. That said, there was plenty on both to dig, just in comparison to some of the other stone cold classics, those two maybe paled. So we were maybe expecting more of the same, another Monster Magnet record, that maybe didn't rule, but that was pretty great, and had at least a few killer jams, but then BLAM. First song in, and we're digging the heaviest, fiercest MM record in ages. "Hallucination Bomb" is low slung and sinister, swaggering epic stoner space rock bliss, fat fuzzy bass, a killer main riff, wild loose leads, and ridiculous over the top lyrics, what more could we ask for? How about a whole record that good! That's right, you got it, solid top to bottom, with another clutch of ridiculously genius song titles too: "Bored With Sorcery", "The Titan Who Cried Like A Baby", insanely inspired lyrics like "I'm a pumped out freak on a big wheel..." and some of the sickest riffs since God Says No.
We could go song by song, but why bother, if you're like us, you'd buy a new Monster Magnet no matter what, and the fact that it totally rules, only makes it that much better. And if you've somehow made it this far without hearing MM, holy shit man, what's wrong with you, total epic over the top stoner space rock genius of the highest order, buy this one, then go get Spine Of God, Superjudge, Dopes To Infinity, hell, you're gonna want them all. And odds are you'll have a new favorite band. It's a Satanic drug thing, you wouldn't understand. Trust us.
Absolutely recommended.
Bigger! Dumber! Sillier! Better than ever! Who else could we be talking about but Monster Magnet! It's time for the return of the modern gods of spaced out sexed up cock rock. Heavy and trippy and druggy and catchy, Monster Magnet are the perfect mix of Hawkwind, Black Sabbath, Kiss, and Spinal Tap. What started out as a "satanic drug thing you wouldn't understand" has turned into the catchiest, silliest, most enjoyable band you're likely to see on MTV. While this may not be as subversively sludgy as their brilliant early classic Spine Of God, or as perfectly polished as the more recent Power Trip, it's still pretty fucking great. Frontman Dave Wyndorf spits an endless flow of sexual non sequiters and boastful proclamations, tales of outerspace exploration, sexual escapades (often coincidentally occurring in space), rocking, sex, and... well... even more rocking and more sex! Massive slabs of perfect sludgy stoner space rock with HUGE guitars, classic riffs and hooks galore keep all Wyndorf's silliness grounded -just- this side of Kiss-like buffoonery. But Monster Magnet wear it well. Really well. They may have begun life as an underground drug metal cult, but this is where they always knew they'd end up, in a space-ready tour bus, cruising the galaxy looking for new worlds to rock and new babes to bed. And if you need to know just how anticipated this record was around these parts, Andee will count this as his THIRD copy of Monolithic Baby! purchased, having bought the import lp, and then the import cd and now this (as this version has two extra tracks not on the import) and his housemate Josh is also on number three, having bought an import cd version, then the import version with the DVD, and now this domestic version. Was it worth it? Andee and Josh both say "Hell yeah!" Comes with a DVD containing two videos (one involving lots of scantily clad ladies, and one involving a computer generated space ship hurtling through the void), two live tracks and an interview.
"It's A Satanic Drug Thing ...You Wouldn't Understand". Monster Magnet's motto, emblazoned on the back of the cd booklet, is something that they really did live up to, sonically and otherwise, back in the day. Maybe not the healthiest lifestyle choice (frontman Dave Wyndorf actually almost died recently from, yes, a drug overdose), but it sums up Monster Magnet, musically speaking. If you want to hear some "stoner rock" that's both spacier and scarier and Stoogier than most, early Monster Magnet (before they got big) is the way to go.
We reviewed their droniest bad trip masterpiece, the reissued 25...Tab ep a couple lists back, and now follow-up with a review of another favorite, their debut full-length entitled Spine Of God, originally released by Caroline in 1992 and now reissued by SPV with snazzier graphics and bonus track (a demo version of "Ozium").
This came out at the height of the grunge era, but sounds just as Stonehenge (a la Hawkwind) as it does Seattle (a la Mudhoney). It includes their Grand Funk cover, "Sin's A Good Man's Brother", alongside such downer, druggy hits from some parallel just-say-yes universe as "Pill Shovel", "Nod Scene", and "Zodiac Lung". A wasted, burn-out classic, laid-back and leaden, dazed and phased.
We've been digging the latest Monster Magnet record Mastermind lately bigtime (you should be too!), a total return to form for sure, and as if that wasn't enough MM for all the space lord motherfuckers out there, along comes this, a super limited tour only 10", that besides being available exclusively from the band on tour, or from the band's website, is also available from aQ! We're one of, if not THEE only store to have these, and we won't have em for long, limited to just 500 copies, we got a batch direct from the band, so grab one while you can.
The A side is a rerecorded version of the MM classic "Superjudge", a stripped down version, that manages to be as heavy and psychedelic as the original, all spaced out with spidery Eastern guitar melodies, minimal drumming, and some SERIOUSLY fuzzed out bass buzz, that gives the song some skull caving crunch for sure, killer vox, a dead ringer for the original, but set amidst this new arrangement, pretty hard to fuck with, and pretty awesome that decades on, these guys can still slay, and like all MM jams, the song blossoms into an awesome spacey psychedelic freakout near the end, not super heavy and blown out, more sort of trippy and druggy, which suits the new version to a tee.
The B side is a similarly rerecorded version of a song from Mastermind, the main riff like a muddy, murky slowed down Stooges, and like "Superjudge", it's a stripped down practice space jam, more minimal, but still explosive and heavy and epic, a little dirgier than the original, complete with those majestic cock-rockin' choruses and the sort of epic space rock riffery that still kicks ass over most of the other wannabe spacerockers out there.
Released on the band's own label, limited to 500 copies, we got a handful, but guessing these might go quick...
We've had this before, but it's not always that easy to find. So while we have a few in stock we thought we'd list it. It's the very first aluminum slab of Satanic Drug psych-metal to come from the demented minds of Dave Wyndorf and Co., released on
THE URNS RETURN. We never get tired of that. And we never get tired of Monument Of Urns, whose impossibly beautiful and crushingly suffocatingly heavy slow motion doom seems to effortlessly outpace all their doom-ed brethren. Four releases, each one a single track. A single 3"cd-r, meticulously designed and packaged. Each of those four tracks, massive and expansive, slooooooooooooow and so grimly gorgeous. Even at twenty minutes a pop, we can't ever get enough. The Urns' black doomscapes need to spread and sprawl, for hours, days, weeks. A sonic black plague slowly but systematically infecting the whole world.
For those new to the world of Monument Of Urns, their sound is massive, ultra thick guitars, pummeling drums, howled harsh vocals, glacial tempos, incredible dynamics, complex arrangements, and here on Absence, the band have definitely hit a peak. Not as slow as past releases, this one is a monster. With super dynamic stop start segments, squealing streaks of harmonized feedback, guitars that buzz and crumble. The sound here is as much Eyehategod as Khanate. With a healthy dose of Harvey Milk. In fact, lots of this does definitely sound like a blackened Harvey Milk. The lurching mathy stumble, the churning downtuned chug, always with those feedback filled pauses. And somehow, Urns manage to make this caustic doomed brutality catchy. We even just caught Antaeus humming along with the main riff! We've been bugging the Urns to release a full length, or to let Andee re-release all the 3"s on tUMULt cd. But they are perfectly happy to work at their own pace, to create the elaborate packaging one at a time and by hand. To forge this black art, in some mysterious pit, unleashing each noxious missive, only when they deem we are worthy. So for now, we'll have to be happy with the occasional 20 minute helping of glorious black sludge. And wait patiently for the next one.
As always, the packaging is amazing. An oversized cardstock sleeve, with an outer vellum sleeve, the overlapping designs meshing perfectly, the inside gatefold all elaborate fractals, the cd affixed to a nub on one of the inside panels. So nice.
RETURN OF THE URNS!! Quite possibly our favorite one man black doom outfit is back, with installment FIVE, in his ever expanding canon of droning downtuned blackness, and as always, it's gorgeously and lovingly hand packaged, a black folded cardstock sleeve, printed in thick red ink on the front and back, a strange black on black skeleton mandala on the inside.
The big change this time around is that Monument Of Urns has outgrown the 3"cd, this latest track, clocks in at a whopping 29 minutes, which seemingly forced a shift to a proper 5" cd-r. But beyond that, all is well, and grim, and bleak, and harrowingly dooooomy in the world of Urns. When we first put this in the computer, the song info came up "When The Wind Stopped Blowing - A Read To Your Child audiobook!" And while "When The Wind Stopped Blowing" does make a perfectly doomy title for a record, for this record even, evoking some sort of blackened wasteland, a burnt expanse of deadness and pestilence, these sounds are definitely a bit too intense for all but the grimmest of child folk.
A churning, roiling mass of near static black riffage, crumbling and distorted, oozing and filthy, a SUNNO))) baked crawl, that seems to grow more and more dense and caustic and black, as the track progresses. It's not until over 10 minutes in that the drums finally kick in, a BPM of say maybe 3 or 4, a seriously lugubrious tarpit creep, way beyond funereal, this is doom that is dead and buried and dug up again, caked with blood and mud and human flesh, a lumbering sick sonic behemoth, ultra doom, many many o'd dooooom, crushing and punishing and pummeling, total black hole, hollow earth, end of humanity doom, eventually ditching the drums and forward momentum, as the shuddering black grime oozes back into whatever black void birthed it. So goddamn good. Why Urns isn't up there with Moss and Corrupted and SUNNO))) and Monarch and the rest of the grim slowpoke royalty we'll never understand, needless to say, if you dig the very very slow, and ultra ultra low, and can't get enough oooooozing blackness and soul crushing dooooooom, then prostrate yourself before the Monument Of Urns, and let the buzz and rumble wash over you in thick filthy black torrents...
THE RETURN OF THE URNS!! THE THIRD URNS!!
We've been waiting patiently, almost a year now, for the next installment in Monument Of Urns' creeping crawling, and slowly coalescing masterpiece. A timeless epic, so massive, it can only be presented 20 minutes at a time. Each chapter a massive single track, each a piece of some unimaginable grand design. Each immaculately designed and presented. Each somehow impossibly heavier than the last. First there was The Ancient Method. Then there was The Destroyer Of All. And now, there is Cruelty.
Another all too brief missive from the mysterious dark lord who guards the Monument Of Urns.
Cruelty is another soul smiting slab of ultra sludge, a plodding doom metal behemoth, trudging endlessly forward, knee deep in murk and mire, wreathed in clouds of black buzz, a monstrously monolithic dirge, laying waste to any and all who kneel before it. In addition to the demonic growls, there seems to be some sort of strange monk like chanting, giving Cruelty a sort of demonically liturgical feel. The riff and pounding rhythmic pummel repeat like some sort of hellish mantra, over and over for nearly fifteen minutes, before the riffs devolve into a swirling black morass, over which harsh vocals struggle to be heard, the cries of a tortured soul, soon huge black hole pulses of downtuned crush drop from the sky, threatening to rent our puny planet asunder. The beast arises and continues its relentless rampage, until finally, all that is left is the chanting of those mysterious monks, praying that the beast will never return...
Essential doom for the Skepticism, Moss, Bunkur, Esoteric, Khanate, Corrupted, Earth and SUNNO))) sets... And like the other two installments, gorgeously packaged in a fold over sleeve, printed with woodcut images and strange calligraphic text, the 3" cd-r affixed to the inside.
All must worship before the Monument Of Urns.
Or perish.
A mysterious package showed up on our doorstep one day a few weeks ago. An oversized brown paper sleeve printed with all sorts of geometric figures, atop them a drawing of a curled up skeleton, and beneath the skeleton were printed the words Monument Of Urns. And along with it came a note, printed on the same paper and in the same manner, which said simply "Free doom for all". We were more than halfway to digging this before we even slapped it in the cd player. And moments later, free-doom was indeed ours! (But it'll cost you five bucks.)
Included was a three inch cd-r, packed with 16 minutes of some of the most massive glacial super distorted, soul crushing doooooom we'd ever heard. Riffs that could flatten a city, given ample time to drift into nothingness before the next comes crashing down, a rhythm so slow and spare, it sounds like the drummer could smoke a cigarette between each snare hit, vocals, distant and hazy, as if being shouted from the bottom of a blackened pit, that sometimes roar ferociously before drifting back southward. Essential for fans of all things Skepticism, Bunkur, Esoteric, Corrupted, Earth, SUNNO))), Boris and the like!
THE URNS RETURNS!! We all went mad for the first release from mysterious outerspace underworld doom outfit Monument Of Urns, a massive glacial slab of black as tar, slow motion doom. A brief quarter of an hour, a mere three inches of utter doom and devastation. Beautifully packaged in an oversized cardstock sleeve. So fucking good but at the same time so cruel. It's the kind of track, the sort of sound that you want to go on forever and ever, an endless smear of blackened buzz. Of which we were blessed (cursed is maybe more appropriate) with only a tiny glimpse of the mighty beast. So we were psyched to discover a new, but similarly brief blast of that dismally delightful Urns ultradoom. This time it's in the form of a single 17 minute track entitled "The Destroyer Of All". Upping the drone / drift / ambient ante, "TDOA" begins with a long stretch of slow swirling metal guitars, drifting and droning, before even more guitars are piled on top, and then the drums hit, like someone dropping anvils from a seventh story window. A plodding, trudging stretch of 16rpm riffage and vocals so raw and distorted and distant they just sound like another layer of demonic buzz. So slow and heavy, so impossibly crushing, it's doom metal verging on ambience, sludge metal stretched dangerously close to complete drone-age. And we fucking love it. Someone has got to get these guys to take all of their 15 and 17 minute tracks and string them together into the ultimate doom symphony. A double disc, a triple disc even, we can hardly imagine it.
ESSENTIAL for fans of all things Skepticism, Bunkur, Esoteric, Corrupted, Earth, SUNNO))), Boris and the like! Packaged in a cool oversized cardstock sleeve, with a mini 3" cd sleeve inside.
Once again, the RETURN OF THE URNS!! For those keeping track, which is a lot of you we're guessing, considering how popular Monument Of Urns is around these parts, this is installment number SIX in the Urns' ongoing exploration of grim black dooooooooom, the sort of lurching, lumbering, blown out, downtuned ultraheaviness we can't ever seem to get enough of. Number six, The Old Man And Death, finds MoU returning to the format of the first 4 releases, a 3" cd-r, housed in a super striking, and meticulously designed oversized sleeve, this time around, there's a thick textured black screenprint of a skeleton riding a ghost horse on the front, and an on old style woodcut on the back, while inside, the disc sits in the middle of a geometric design, overlapping shapes beneath two angels.
And like the past installments, The Old Man And Death is a single track, just shy of 21 minutes this time, and is another corrosive, filthy slab of abject, glacial, tarpit heaviness, the guitars massive, the riffs Teutonic, the drums simple and spare buy crushing, the instruments locked into a sinister plodding death march. The guitars crashing, and then slowly decaying, the riffs transformed into crumbling superdistorted rumbles, before the next riff crashes in. Feedback swirls, the vocals a howling shriek, barely audible, buried in the murk and mire.
And while it's of course crushingly and suffocatingly heavy, it's also dark and droned out, strangely hypnotic, the arrangement very cyclical, repetitive, total trance inducing lowend black doom ritual for sure. Like SUNNO))) jamming with Monarch, or Khanate covering Winter, epic, majestic, slow and low, doom-drone-dirge bliss. Eventually some of the crush is peeled back, in a squall of feedback, revealing a strange muddy minimal riff, it too wreathed in feedback, but soon, that riff blossoms into another brutal black crawl, slithery and sinister, the sound even dronier, the vocals washed out and almost atmospheric, and so it goes, the Urns pounding and pounding and pummeling, until eventually, the sound seems to melt into a viscous black puddle, a swirling, oozing black mass, that rumbles and whirs and groans and buzzes in a gauzy psychedelic haze, before fading to black.
Yet another installment in what has to be one of thee most perfect bodies of work in the extreme ultra doom / black / sludge / drone / dirge underground, and again, all the folks who love Monarch and Bunkur and Moss and The Body and Trees and Habsyll and Fleshpress and Atavist and Orthodox and all the rest, should most definitely be bowing down before Monument Of Urns...
Debut from the awesomely monikered Moon Knight, the work of James Brown III, a member of LA black metal horde Harassor, who sometimes also releases sick sonic blackness under the name Lord Foul. But as Moonknight, Brown creates that sort of crumbling blown out blissy blackness we can never seem to get enough of, equal parts buzzy and super distorted, hazy and washed out and shoegazey, clouds of caustic buzz and caveman pound seem soaked in soft swirls of melodic shimmer, sweetly melancholic melodies are looped dreamily beneath a churning wall of roiling riffage and guttural demonic growls, the label describes it as Alcest and Amesoeurs mixed with Ildjarn and Bone Awl, and that does pretty much nail it, a sound that is both thick and corrosive, hateful and hellishly menacing, but also woozy, dreamy, and downright pretty, meditatively melodic while simultaneously buzz drenched and brutally black, two great tastes that have really never sounded better together. Might just be one of our favorite new black metal releases, too bad it's LIMITED TO JUST 100 COPIES, each tape housed in gorgeous letterpressed #'d J-card, printed on sparkly reflective metallic silver paper.
This long out of print chunk twisted black buzz now reissued and available again!
Debut from the awesomely monikered Moon Knight, the work of James Brown III, a member of LA black metal horde Harassor, who sometimes also releases sick sonic blackness under the name Lord Foul. But as Moonknight, Brown creates that sort of crumbling blown out blissy blackness we can never seem to get enough of, equal parts buzzy and super distorted, hazy and washed out and shoegazey, clouds of caustic buzz and caveman pound seem soaked in soft swirls of melodic shimmer, sweetly melancholic melodies are looped dreamily beneath a churning wall of roiling riffage and guttural demonic growls, the label describes it as Alcest and Amesoeurs mixed with Ildjarn and Bone Awl, and that does pretty much nail it, a sound that is both thick and corrosive, hateful and hellishly menacing, but also woozy, dreamy, and downright pretty, meditatively melodic while simultaneously buzz drenched and brutally black, two great tastes that have really never sounded better together. Might just be one of our favorite new black metal releases, too bad it's LIMITED TO JUST 100 COPIES, each tape housed in gorgeous letterpressed #'d J-card, printed on sparkly reflective metallic silver paper.
ATTENTION TROLLMANN AV ILDTOPPBERG faithful. Trollmann maybe e dead and gone but fear not...
Avid AQ list readers and doomlords worldwide should be well aware of our love of mysterious doom duo Trollmann Av Ildtoppberg. Four full lengths, a live record and a live dvd-r, each a sprawling lugubrious brew of fuzzy spacey keyboards, Skepticism-like slow-crawl riffs, rumbling demon vocal gurgles, as blessed out and darkly ambient, as they are heavy and crushingly ominous. For those new to Trollmann, it's not just the amazing and mysterious music, it's the whole world Trollmann have created, or the world they call home. The records are called Forest Of Doom, Arcane Runes Adorn The Ice-Veiled Monoliths Of The Ancient Cavern Of The Stars, Dark Clouds Blacken The Sky On The Eve Of The Thousandth Sacrifice, Tolling Beyond The Tombs Of Ancient Grimnity, the band members are depicted on their record covers, drawn, never photographed, one a little hairy elf on a toadstool, the other a huge bruiser of an ancient caveman, armed with a massive axe, the instruments used to make this music: "Cosmic keys to gates unknown," and "Rumblings Of Doom, Prophecies Of Times To Come." Hell yeah!
Just bass and keyboards, the duo managed to weave lush and truly haunting soundscapes, doomy drones and slow motion heaviness, like a black metal Tangerine Dream crossed with a much more ambient Thergothon. So we were pretty heartbroken when we discovered earlier this year that the band had called it quits. Their mysterious partnership dissolved, and our portal to that alien sonic dimension sealed forever. Or maybe not!
We arrived to work to discover a huge fissure in the floor of the store, some sort of fog or smoke drifting from below, an unearthly glow emanating from the murky abyss, the bravest among us braved the unknown and reached into the crevice, feeling around, it was warm, and moist, and gritty, the air a completely different quality, until they grasped something, a cloth sack, tied with rough twine, when pulled from the dark, spilled open just as the fissure miraculously closed up. What was in this sack? Some bits of ancient treasure, a handful of bones, some dirty cloth stained with something resembling blood, and THIS! The debut disc from Mordraaneth, aka Belegur from Trollmann, who over the course of these two discs, has thankfully taken up his cosmic keys to gates unknown, and opened up a new gateway, allowing us to return, at least aurally, to the glorious sonic landscapes of Trollmann, drones and dirges, smears of murk and shimmer, dark ambience and black doom. The sound familiar enough that anyone into Trollmann will find this essential, but different enough to remain mysterious and magical.
The opening track is a long meditative keyboard suite, layers of throbbing whir and pulsing chordal washes, the notes and overtones beating against one another, subtle rhythms and textures beneath the tranquil dreamlike drift. Definitely reminiscent of Tangerine Dream, Popol Vuh, but with a vibe at atmosphere much more ancient, and timeless, the music of crumbling castles, of blackened underground passages...
The second track introduces vocals, a buried in the mix demonic rasp, and a thick layer of buzz, some subtle percussion, a strange slow motion martial fantasy fanfare, wreathed in hiss and static, the distortion crumbling, the track peppered with bits of grinding growl and blown out fuzz, but somehow still hypnotic and dream like, the keyboard running through it, it's melody entrancing and so pretty. The rest of disc one drifts along lazily, like floating down some black river that runs beneath the Earth's crust, winding through lost civilizations and abandoned villages, eye glimmering in the darkness here and there, a permanent midnight. Haunting and ominous and soporific.
The second disc is two looooong tracks, beginning with what sounds like harpsichord, once again transporting us back to some ancient court, you can almost imagine Lords and Ladies, doing some strange dance, beneath a huge stone edifice, lit by firelight and the stars above, the whole disc, all 58 minutes of it, is a weirdly festive medieval folk, like a much more haunting and fucked up Renaissance Faire music, or some sort of ancient new age, imagine Kitaro and Brian Eno in full corpse paint, scoring a film about knights and dragons. Medieval fantasy ambience. Playful and lilting, glimmering and glittering, a gauzy sun dappled cloud of music box melodies, slightly smeared and blurred into a dreamy drift.
Can't wait for Thundarr, the other half of Trollmann, to return with his Rumblings Of Doom and Prophecies Of Times To Come, but for now, we're perfectly happy to revel in the blissy ambient dreamusic of Mordraaneth!
It's been a while since we heard from NOTHingness records, but they're back, after a year-long hiatus, with a killer slab of heathen funereal slow motion dooooooooooooom. By now we shouldn't really need to go into too much detail about all those extra 'o's but, needless to say, Danske Hymer Til Morket is massive, and glacial, sloooooooow, and ultra heavy, a tarpit trudge through an expansive landscape of warm washed out synths, slow plodding drums, and downtuned distorted guitars, spread out like the thick black wings of some beast, completely blotting out the sun and smothering the earth in thick pitch black shadow.
Unlike a lot of the funeral doom we've been digging lately, the sound of Morkheim is actually quite melodic, reminiscent of the classic UK doom bands like Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, but of course slowed waaaay down and dipped in filth, left to crawl bloody and broken across a soundscape of lurching, slithering rumble and buzz.
The keyboards that wash over everything here definitely remind us of ultradoom legends Skepticism, and it's easy to hear Moss and Esoteric and the like, but it's the melodies, and the synths, and the strange mix of the classic and the modern, that results in some strange hybrid, epic and majestic, dark and droning, brutal and black, that makes Danske Hymer Til Morket so interesting. Just check out the album closer, an all acoustic Viking lament, with just simple fingerpicked guitars and soaring majestic vocals, that manages to somehow sound just as heavy and intense as the trudging pummel of the rest of the record.
LIMITED TO 111 COPIES!!!
Weird name. Weird band. Cool band! First thing to note: this is from the same folks who brought us Ufomammut's Lucifer Songs. In fact, Supernatural Cat is Ufomammut's label. And yes, as we were hoping, MoRkObOt are another HEAVY, spaced-out band of freaky Italians. But while Ufomammut sound like Electric Wizard playing Hawkwind songs, these guys exhibit a more precise -and- alien sounding technique in their all-instrumental compositions, which are definitely very heavy and DISTORTED a la Ufomammut. It's as if Ufomammut built a spaceship, took off from Earth, went up into outer space, and found these guys already there, orbiting some far off galaxy in a blinking robot vessel!!
The MoRkObOt trio -- Lin on bass and synth, Lan on bass, and Len on drums -- obviously have a lot of the same influences as Ufomammut, including the aforementioned Hawkwind, Pink Floyd, and Godflesh... with the latter influence maybe more prominent here, though this isn't all darkly depressive, instead it's sometimes almost energetically happy, like these guys have been popping pills they bought in a shady spaceport cantina. Some tracks are all about repetitive rhythmic pummel... or jaunty, twisting riffery... others feature passages of ominous synthy ambient drone and disturbing sound FX... it's all very psychedelic and sci-fi sounding, like a band jamming around the monolith in 2001: A Space Odyssey. By the time you've experienced the last track, the 23+ minute "Poldon", you're waaaay out in space, maybe never to return... We pretty sure that this will appeal to fans of Titan and Zombi and Circle, and of course the other bands mentioned above!
Another thing to note: these REALLY swank and elaborate, hand-printed, hand-assembled packages (for the cd and the 10" both, they're equally cool lookin', and come in various random colors) are LIMITED. The cd contains a 500 numbered copies of the cd, 500 numbered copies of the vinyl (which, by the way, contains a much shorter version of "Poldon" than the cd does). Both formats feature a wire-bound booklet featuring cool artwork for each track, Voivod-style! Ufomammut's "Malleus Art Lab" is responsible for all the far out art, design, and execution.
This futuristic-psychedelic Italian band from the Malleus/Ufomammut outer space orbit has come back to visit Earth again, blasting and baffling our senses with the intense radiation of the three long tracks that comprise this 40 minute disc/trip. As with their previous Monstro, the trio of Lin, Lan and Len again indulge in heavy, throbbing, occasionally spaced-out instrumentals with a rhythmic, industrial edge - something like Godflesh gone postrock amok. Or imagine the soundtrack to an alien autopsy that mixed up the internal organs of Lightning Bolt, Shellac, and Ufomammut. Sick.
MoRkObOt's guitars (both basses!) are distorted and drilling, laced with noise and FX, that gives way to moody electronic expanses, brushed with restrained, jazzy drumming. Indeed, we said "occasionally spaced-out" but maybe it's the other way around, the bulk the album actually consisting of near-ambient void-drone interrupted by the frantic panic of urgent, abrupt riffage and rigid clangorous rhythms. While this idiosyncratic band doesn't sound like most of the "doom" music we sell, believe us it's plenty ominous and intense, the doom it portends (a catastrophic asteroid impact? our sun going nova? the eventual heat-death of the universe?) not in doubt.
Like Asylum before it, the latest from doom crust heavies Morne, featuring members of Grief and Disrupt, owes much to the mighty Neurosis, their sound similarly epic and majestically downtuned, with some Sabbathy swing to it too. Looong songs are of course the rule, the five here ranging from 7+ to 12+ minutes, and they're slow going, in more ways that one, the riffs and songwriting seem to take a backseat to the vibe and the sound, so it sort of depends on your mood - dedictated doom addicts will no doubt dig, but some may find Shadows trance inducing, but perhaps not in the way the band intended...
1971 strikes again! Proto-metal freaks, rejoice! Connoisseurs of the "early heavy" have reason to be excited about this, the lone album from this raw n' heavy psychedelic blues rock power trio from Denmark, originally released in '71, finally available as a legit cd reissue complete with liner notes and vintage photos in the cd booklet.
Recalling Vincebus Eruptum era Blue Cheer (big time!!) and early, bluesy Black Sabbath a bit too, Moses deliver blown-out, fuzz-bombed, acid-laced, hairy hippy proto-metal of Biblical proportions. Full of stoned vocals, loping riffs, and lots of wailing, wasted acid rock guitar soloing (worthy of Blue Cheer's Leigh Stephens and/or Randy Holden), Changes is highly recommended to anyone whose interest has been piqued by anything we've just mentioned or referenced. There's six songs here, nothing complex, certainly catchy though, what more to say? Each one provides the good vibes of ye olde primitive proto-metal, starting with the thudding blues brutality of title track "Changes" (which has nothing to do with the Black Sabbath piano ballad of the same name, by the way). Later on, "Beginning" gives the drummer some, ready for some DJ to mine for a crude breakbeat. "Skaev" is the only one here sung in Danish, but the lurching, surging riffage requires no translation. We're glad the final track, 7 minute track "Warning" is in English, though, 'cause we're getting a kick out of the lyrics, a story of a "straight" falling in with a turned-on crowd, which include lines like: "...and suddenly the girl gives him two feeling good pills, eat them if you can, a little after in a big discussion, forgotten everything about his wife, moving with the others in a big procession, he shouts out, this is life!" Awesome.
So, anyone into early Blue Cheer, Randy Holden's Population II, and the recently reissued Speed Glue & Shinki from Japan, stuff like that, will dig Moses for sure. Also, having just reviewed a bunch of '70s garage fuzz monsters from Africa, like Ngozi Family and Witch, we're hearing a lot of similarities here (minus the African thing, of course, but not the fuzz and groove). We bet if we said this was from Zambia or Nigeria, people would be freaking! Denmark is less "exotic", but that's not what's important when banging your head to these 1971 sounds.
Abject, miserable, mournful, agonized, anguished, tortured and tormented ultra mega doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom! That's right. We've officially reached an all time high in o's (40 in case you were counting), and an all time loooooow in DOOM. Every time we hear from these crushing creeps they've pushed it even further into the deep dark damnable depths, forcing us to add more and more o's. That's right, it's the return of Moss, the UK's heaviest, slowest, sludgiest slow motion downtuned doom metal behemoth. Moss take the paint peeling acidic abrasiveness of Khanate and combine it with the warm suffocating murk of bands like Skepticism or Thergothon, or even aQ faves Nadja (who did a split with Moss a while back). Ultra minimal and nearly static in its sludginess, with the simple caveman plod of the drums the only thing keeping this from turning into a full on drone, this is like one HUGE riff, pulled and stretched into two epic streaks of fuzz and pound, with vocals that might even give Alan Dubin from Khanate a bit of a fright, like a demon howling through a mouthful of broken glass and rusty bottlecaps, teeth black with the blood of a thousand vanquished souls, the sound that finally comes out is a noxious black cloud that causes everything it touches to wither and die, totally blown out and so harsh it makes our throats sore just listening to it.
But like the best sludge / doom, there is some sort of subtle melodic undercurrent going on, maybe it's deliberate and these guys are on some whole other musical level or maybe it's just some chance occurance, some strange alignment of overtones or some lucky bit of abstract composition, it hardly matters, the end result is somehow both hauntingly beautiful and horrifically harsh, there's definitely some dark beauty hidden beneath Moss' black sludge exterior, but the joy of music like this is the fact that the music's beauty is buried and bruised, battered and brutalized, the sonic search for the beauty within is like wading waist deep through boiling hot pitch, ears plugged with hot tar, all the while being showered from above by the tears of angels.
The most recent Moss record, previous to this, besides being an awesome chunk of crusty ultra doom, was a bit of a debacle, at least in terms of release and format. The outrageously expensive 10" format, was in fact meant to be a DOUBLE 10", but was not, although the price seemed to still reflect the missing second record. Then the cd came out, including TWO extra tracks, a Discharge cover, which had already been on a split with Monarch, and the 11+ minute "Eternal Return", both of which were apparently meant to be included as that second 10". Or something like that. Needless to say, vinyl folks missed out on "Eternal Return", and the Discharge cover too if they missed out on the Monarch split, even though they sort of already paid for 'em. So the bad news, or maybe the good news, depending on your perspective, and financial situation, is that the third proper Blind Drugged Moss track, "Eternal Return", which was included on the Tombs Of The Blind Drugged cd, but has never been on vinyl, is NOW actually ON VINYL. And it's gorgeously packaged and elaborately presented, so the only downside of that is shelling out another $17 to finally get that track, "Eternal Return", on wax, but c'mon! It's Moss!!
The track itself is a killer, it's Moss, so by now most of the aQ faithful should know what you're getting into, crushing, pummeling, doom drone dirge heaviosity, or as we described them in the Blind Drugged review:
All anguished and distorted, with distended guitar and bass strings hanging loose and low, vokillizations of sheer misery and madness torn from the singer's throat like a still beating bloody heart ripped from the sacrifice, and bits of bent and battered drum kit scattered across the rancid tundra that is Moss's metallic soundspace!
Indeed. We love Moss, and they RULE, and this is definitely worth the price of admission, just seems a tiny bit frustrating having to piece together Tomb Of The Blind Drugged one expensive chunk of vinyl at a time, but hell, we think Moss are worth it.
And the packaging, wow! A thick fold out cardstock gatefold, with not one, but TWO Japanese style obis, one along the side, one holding the sleeve shut right in the middle, plus inserts, a poster, all pretty spiffy. And CRAZY LIMITED. Maybe already out of print, which means these are the only copies we'll ever get.
It's been a little while, but finally time to all out another complement of o's. That's right, UK doomlords Moss return with their latest batch of ultra mega doooooooooooooooom. And like their last record, Tombs Of The Blind Drugged, Horrible Night is another collection of slo-mo-sludge, sub-Sabbathian swing, glacial downtuned creep, and churning, lumbering low end heaviosity. The weird thing is, considering how heavy and sludgy these guys are, we only just now discovered they don't have a bass player, and the singer ONLY sings. We always assumed they were a proper three piece, guitar, bass, drums, with one of those blokes singing. Kinda insane that just guitar and drums can conjure up such a thick, blackened oozing sound. But we digress.
While much of the sound on Horrible Night is essentially a continuation of their multiple o'd ultra doom, there is one thing that has changed, and that's the vocals. There are in fact still some throat shredding howls, but the bulk of the vocals are clean, soaring proper singing. Suddenly Moss have a twinge of true doom to them. Vocalist (just vocalist) Olly Pearson does a decent Ozzy-ish wail, which most definitely changes the tenor and tone of the Moss musical universe. The opening title track eventually settles into some old style Mossiness, replete with the howled anguished vokills, there's even some super weird tripped out psychedelic leads at one point, but the whole first half is total old school true doom, slowed down to a crawl, Pearson belting it out. Not sure if we're imagining it or not, but with the clean vocals, even the music seems to swing a but more, sounding a little bit more Sabbathy and stonery. Hard to say if true ultra doomlords will be disappointed, but we're digging it a lot. Definitely adds some melody and musicality to the group's otherwise minimal but massively crushing dour dirgery, and it's interesting too, that the music hasn't changed all that much really, so it's still droned out and doomy, lumbering and trudging, funereal/funeral ultradoom, but now with proper vox. We can't help but feel like the sound's gonna explode into a galloping classic metal groove at any point, and it feels like that expectation imbues the music with a weird dark tension, cuz it never does, Moss have it locked down, keeping their BPM to a minimum, and tuning down as low as they can, unfurling thick sheets of undulating, crumbling, super distorted buzz, the riffs serpentine and slow motion, it's the sort of metal that doesn't inspire headbanging so much as a sort of swaying back and forth, hypnotic, mesmerizing, a many o'd dooooooooooom, given new life, and transformed into the world's slowest, and most abject, blackly psychedelic true ultra doom. And we DIG it.
It's been a while since we've had to employ multiple 'o's in a review. A bit of a death of doom it seems. Or at least the sort of doom that requires all those extra 'o's. A loyal customer of ours even whipped up this [http://www.aquariusrecords.org/doomchart.html] "doom chart" based on our usage of multiple 'o'd doom in reviews!
And if memory serves, Moss was one of the bands that routinely got described as doooom, or doooooooooom, and sometimes even doooooooooooooooooooooooom. So we were all ready to put finger to key and just let the 'o's roll out, one after the other after the other, until we felt we had conveyed the crushing doom of Moss. That is until we pressed play, and were treated to "Ritus", a five and a half minute soundscape of whirring synths and washed out ambience, of cymbal sizzle and proggy keyboard drones, of whispered voices and buzzing shimmer. Hmmm. The liner notes say it's inspired by Doris Norton, an electronic musician who's also a member of AQ faves Jacula!! An interesting start from one of the sludgiest, crustiest bands around. Doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom. Ahh. That's better. The second track returns us to that dank dark sloooooooooow place Moss call home. Twenty three minutes of downtuned crush, the tempo only slightly faster than the growth of actual moss. But even all gnarled and sludge-y, something has definitely changed. It's not nearly as filthy, and harsh, it's actually weirdly pretty. Almost like it's some more melodic metal record being spun manually with one finger at 3 or 4 rpm. The distortion is still dense, the long drawn out chords seeming to crumble, the drums spaced way out, but somehow still more buys than you're average ultradoom drummer, the vocals are still harsh and howling, but somehow, they too seem to be a bit more smooth, further down in the mix, like another layer of sound, the howls allowed to unfurl into another layer of buzz. It's strange, but we definitely dig. And we're not saying this is NOTHING like old Moss, or folks into Bunkur and Esoteric and the like won't love it, you will, the differences are subtle, and the sound is just a little bit, well, prettier, if you can imagine something bleak and black and harsh and hateful being pretty. Which we can!
The next track, a nine minute dirge, is a bit more raw and rough, most of that prettiness we were blathering on about above is GONE. Shrieking feedback, the drums even slower and more spare, the guitars even more distorted and the vocals throat shreddingly harsh, the tempo slightly accelerated, bordering on Eyehategod territory.
But it's all bout the closer, "Gate III: Devils From The Outer Dark". Clocking in at 35 minutes + and beginning with a churning sea of downtuned rumble and buzz, before the drums finally kick in, and f course by kick in we mean pound sporadically. This track is WAY more than a dirge. It makes the track before it sound like thrash metal. This is slooooooow and so so so so dooooooooooooooooooomy. The guitars thick and corrosive, the chords allowed to ring way out and fade away before the next one drops in to take its place, but weirdly enough, this one too sounds sort of pretty, not like the opening track, but still very dreamlike and mesmerizing. Long streaks of feedback spread out over wide open expanses of minimal thud and warm warped slow motion buzz, when the vocals drop out, it becomes something entirely different, finishing off with several minutes of thick low end drone, the guitars rumbling and wrapped into a thick nearly static pulse, something truly hypnotic and almost spacey, but without sacrificing a single one of those extra 'o's.
Definitely a progression, a band can only pound and plod for so long, but so subtle that the casual listener might not even notice. "Oh yeah, heavy, slow, dooooooom", but as with most music, deep listening reveals a whole lot more going on beneath the surface, and once your ears lock on to that stuff, even the sounds on the surface begin to sound different.
WAY RECOMMENDED for the doom-ed amongst you. And just cuz we knew you were waiting for it, Sub Templum could very well be doooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom disc of the year!!
Besides being one of the filthiest, sludgiest doom bands EVER, Moss also hold the uniquely AQ distinction of being the first band to get 40 'o's in an AQ review. That's right. Moss are most definitely the supreme masters of D-oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo-M. Only that many 'o's in doom can truly represent the sort of twisted anguished glacial drone drenched doom these guys are capable of unleashing. Every thing they touch turns to murky, dirgey mayhem. A blackened, hateful soundscape of slow motion thud and growl, a hellish trudge through a black sonic pit. But we're sure we already had you at 40 'o's!
So what could be more appropriate than a single ninety minute epic lo-fi doom dirge, captured on three microphones and recorded on a fourtrack, then pressed on to a cassette, the grimmest and most cult of formats? Well how about if each cassette was housed in an mindblowingly elaborate, and highly dangerous, welded iron, industrial sculpture-like case? And how about if each cassette 'case' was welded together from nails, and strange rusty hinges, and huge links of chain, stuffed with burnt parchment and actual moss? Doesn't get much more doomy than that.
Seriously though, when we cracked open the two HUGE boxes these tapes came shipped in, and began to unwrap these sharp and jagged works of art, everyone in the store gathered around to see what the next one would look like. Some were like Venus Flytraps made out of nails, others were huge bear trap things wrapped in chains, and spiked with nails. It was like discovering some long buried ancient armory. A dizzying array of sharp edges and hinged nails, weird greased axles that allow pieces of metal to slide open revealing the tape inside, or dense tangles of bent nails melted into tiny cassette coffins. So intense. And amazing looking. And so appropriate to the massive downtuned sludge inside. It's almost like these tapes occurred in nature, and the protective welded iron coating is a warning to wildlife to beware of what poisonous brutality lurks inside. Each case has the band's name welded or soldered on the side, and each contains a parchment like insert with the liner notes. And plenty of moss as well. So awesome.
So here's the complicated part. They're all totally different. Some are huge, and weigh close to 5 pounds, a massive chunk of metal, some are quite not so big, but still equally spikey and dangerously sharp. So the postage will vary depending on which one you get, and due to the intensely spikey and sharp nature of these beasts, if you order them along with anything else, they MUST be shipped separately. And thus will incur an extra shipping charge. Unless you don't mind all your other records having huge nail holes in them and everything ripped to shreds. But let's assume you do mind, and so we'll just figure on separate shipping. But hell, it's so worth it. These are amazing and creepy pieces of art. It's almost just a bonus that inside is a tape of some seriously damaged, harsh and crumbling lo-fi doom.
LIMITED TO 50 COPIES! WE GOT HALF OF THEM! When these are gone, they are gone forever.
If we had to come up with a four-letter word for doom, that wasn't d-o-o-m, it would be m-o-s-s. MOSS! These UK sludgelords, whose previous full-length Sub Templum was a record of The Week last year, are about as heavy as it gets, Moss sinking to the bottom of the black tarpit of doom below almost all others. Of course, playing so slow, the mere three songs here manage to stretch this way beyond ordinary ep length, each of 'em upwards of ten minutes... and then there's a fourth, hidden bonus track that gets this up to about 40 minutes total, so it's actually almost a full album really. And it's the usual grief we get from Moss: these tracks all anguished and distorted, with distended guitar and bass strings hanging loose and low, vokillizations of sheer misery and madness torn from the singer's throat like a still beating bloody heart ripped from the sacrifice, and bits of bent and battered drum kit scattered across the rancid tundra that is Moss's metallic soundspace... sometimes it eventually all congeals into one massive, melancholic drone, a true thing of beauty, heard for instance towards the end of the title track, upon which Moss employ Hammond organ. What else would you expect from something titled Tombs Of The Blind Drugged?? Tombs to which Moss have the "Skeletal Keys" and plan an "Eternal Return"...
We mentioned a bonus track, it's the Discharge cover Moss did that originally appeared on their split 7" with Monarch. "Maimed And Slaughtered" is slowed from a 45rpm blitz to an unrecognizable 16rpm bludgeon... Here's what we said about it in our review of that now out-of-print 7": Moss transform Discharge's punky stomp into a barely moving morass of sludgy pound. Sounding very much like Eyehategod, with simple pummeling drums, howled vocals, and of course guitars tuned as low as they can go before the strings drop off like wet noodles. On top of all the murk, drift weird high end streaks of surprisingly melodic feedback, giving the whole track a haunting and ominous vibe.
FYI, Tomb Of The Blind Drugged is also coming out on vinyl, as a limited double 10" record, minus the Discharge cover we think. Also minus track three, "Eternal Return", which apparently appears on a separate 12" we've yet to track down. We DO have a bunch of the 10" preordered, but the ltd. digipack cd version got here first.
If they gave out Nobel prizes for doom metal, whoever it was that managed to get UK doomsludge combo Moss together with French Sanrio doomsters Monarch, would be a shoe in. And it's not just the killer combo, or the alliterative band names, it's the song choice. As if Moss doing Discharge weren't enough for you, Monarch tackle Turbonegro's all time classic "I Got Erection"!
Moss transform Discharge's punky stomp into a barely moving morass of sludgy pound. Sounding very much like Eyehategod, with simple pummeling drums, howled vocals, and of course guitars tuned as low as they can go before the strings drop off like wet noodles. On top of all the murk, drift weird high end streaks of surprisingly melodic feedback, giving the whole track a haunting and ominous vibe.
Where Moss, turned their song inside out and basically made it their own, Monarch, after a misleading ultra slow count in, do "Erection" pretty straight (ahem), the riff immediately recognizable, same with the "woooooah ooooh" background vocals, so it's up to vocalist Emilie, to make "Erection" her own, and she does, delivering the goofiest, most brilliant lines ever, in a raspy feminine snarl "When I dig a hole... Erection!" It's definitely Monarch at their speediest, and certainly most melodic, and we have to say it sort of suits them. Maybe even better than when black metallers Satyricon covered the same track on a Turbonegro tribute disc some years back, and that was pretty killer too.
And of course, SUPER LIMITED!
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
ULTRADOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM. Or MEGADOOOOOOM. Whatever you want to call it, this is DOOM. Capital D. Lot's of o's. Lots of incredibly slow motion downtuned guitar sludge, pounding caveman drums, and a rumbling bowel churning low-end. This is the first recording we've been able to get enough of to list after a ton of super limited releases and demos. And if this doesn't hit the doom spot something good, then nothing will. Bunkur, Skepticism, Catacombs, Rigor Sardonicous, Esoteric, Planet Aids, Thergothon. And now Moss. The first track is a 15 minute slab of classic funereal doom. Soooooo sloooooow. Sooooooo heavy, crushing, pounding, chugging drone drenched sludge. Recorded live in 2004. The second track is taken from their long out of print split with Nadja, but here, the track is "fucked up and buried", and the result is a massive and abstract ambient soundscape, downtuned guitars are pushed way back into the distance, while in the foreground all sorts of rumble and crackle and what sounds like the burbling of a bong. A druggy, space-y ambient excursion through the massive decaying skeleton of what was once a doom metal beast.
Moss is joined by the brilliantly monickered Wolfmangler. Wolfmangler just happens to be the work of one Smolken who you might know as the man behind Dead Raven Choir! Weird but true. For all his Jewelled Antler folkiness, Smolken made no secret of his black metal obsession. As Wolfmangler, Smolken takes that love of metal and doom and tempers it with his love of folk and country, and the results are truly weird and wonderful. Best exemplified on the track "Survive" a doom-ed version of a Hank Williams Jr. song. Fuzzed out drone guitar, random percussion, weird rubbery bass lines, and growled raspy vocals. Like a black metal Souled American? Johnny Cash covering Skepticism. Something like that. The rest of the WM tracks are weird, slow motion, fuzz drone dirges, with strange barely there melodies, occasional guitar twang, and lots of ominous ambience!
Amazingly packaged in a vellum sleeve, printed in black on the outside, so the inside has a weird x-ray negative effect. Includes an insert for each band printed on thick vellum. SO NICE!
Limited to 500 copies. We got 50 of those and will not be able to get more! So act fast!
Long awaited debut from Nashville doomlords Mourner (featuring members of long time aQ faves Loss), their first for the mighty Paradigms label (who also released this week's ROTW from Murmuure), and while we were all ready to haul out the extra 'o's (as in doooooooooooooooom), seeing as this is indeed a seriously epic and sludgey collection of extreme slow motion heaviness, multiple 'o's just don't quite do this stuff justice. Sure it's slow, and low, and sick and sinister, and blackened and brutal, but it's also weirdly pretty, and strangely melodic, surprisingly lush, just check out the list of instrumentation for your first clue: harmonium, Echoplex, noise, drones, tape loops, field recordings, all wound into the more typical guitar, and drums doom metal arsenal. The record starts out seriously doom-ed, a harsh cackling wicked witch vokill rasp, over murky rumbling bass, crushing spare drum pound, distant haunting shimmer and epic downtuned slowcore chordal crush, sounding almost like a prettier Khanate, the sound creeping and crawling, about as close as anyone has come to channeling slowcore legends Codeine though pure doom, but it doesn't take long for Mourner to distance themselves even further from the doom hordes, the vocals suddenly slipping into a super dramatic King Diamond like falsetto, giving the sound an even more melodic (and hauntingly dramatic vibe), and then the heaviness is peeled back entirely, leaving just some gorgeous skeletal clean guitar, draped over minimal super sparse drumming, the vocals a reverbed growl, the result is something doomy, but more just lovely and mysterious. The track slips back into heaviness, those KD vocals returning too, the song a woozy lumbering dirge that eventually fades out, leaving a bizarre slowed down voice, over a warm softly whirring choral outro.
The comes the 28 minute, two part "Still", a sprawling ambient doom epic, the band laying out a hazy, softdrone backdrop, over which, the guitars occasionally crash, vocals growl and mumble and gurgle and groan, the sounds occasionally coalescing into some sort of impossibly glacial doom death march, but just as often blissing out into something much more ethereal and washed out, clouds of cymbal sizzle, SUNNO)))-like riffscapery, plenty of tripped out effects-drenched drift, whispery clean guitar laced shimmer, some surprisingly pretty almost post rocky bits of melodic meander, hazy layered drones, with the second half being the more traditionally doomy, eventually locking into some seriously devastating lumber and pummel, still atmospheric, and subtly melodic, but heavy as fuck, until finally, the band slips back into something abstract and avant, a slowly unfurling soundscape of muted crunch and rumble, of hushed vocals, clean tendril like guitar lines, all manner of soft focus murk, peppered with the sounds of birds way off in the distance.
Most definitely recommended for the usual slow and low obsessives into Moss, Bunkur, Monarch, The Body, Khanate, Fleshpress, Celestiial, Nadja, Skepticism, Trees, Wicked King Wicker and the like, but Mourner is just weird and melodic enough to maybe reach beyond the doom metal loyal, and open up a whole new world of sound to folks who might not have dared in the past.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES! Packaged in a cool printed brown paper sleeve, with a printed 4 panel insert.
We recently reviewed The Unspoken Hymns, an odds and collection from Aussie ultra-mega-doooooomlords Mournful Congregation, and somehow, as we mentioned in that review, it was the very first record from MC we had ever listed (excepting their 4 way split with Loss, Orthodox and Otesanek, which weirdly enough just got reissued and is relisted elsewhere on this week's list!). Here we are a few weeks later, and we've got a brand new full length from MC, their fourth full length since 1994, and it's a sprawling crushing collection of slo-mo funereal doomdirge miserablism, which manages to sound modern, but also straight out of the nineties, reminding us in equal parts of diSEMBOWELMENT, Thergothon, Esoteric, Winter, Skepticism and the like, but there's a huge melodic component, these songs are harrowing, and emotional, darkly melancholic, in some ways it almost sounds like My Dying Bride or Paradise Lost at 16rpm, a mournful depressive dirge, the vocals a rumbling inhuman demonic bellow / gurgle, over plodding glacial pound, and long droned out riffage, all wrapped in spidery minor key melodic leads. It's dark and depressive, but also majestic and epic, this is not the sort of abject sludge creep of Bunkur and Moss and the rest, the sound of Mournful Congregation is much more beholden to classic doom, atmospheric and lush, rife with clean chant like vocal, swirling reverbed ambience, clean guitars, stretches of almost liturgical sounding loveliness, giving way to skull caving crush, only to slip right back into another sprawl of strangely blackened dronefolk.
The 12 minute "The Bitter Veils Of Solemnity" is all acoustic, spare drums, steel string almost-Appalachia, hushed whispered reverbed vox, gorgeously moody and mysterious, acting as a sort of intro to the insanely epic closing title track, which clocks in at a whopping 33 minutes, and is essentially a slo-mo prog doom epic, slipping from doomic churn, to swirling almost psychedelia, to classic metal chug and back again.
Definitely recommended for fans of ANY of the aforementioned bands, as well as anyone into epic slo-mo melodic heaviness, which we would imagine might just be a whole lot of you...
It's been a while since we hauled out the extra o's, but really it's sorta impossible to describe Australian ultra doomlords Mournful Congregation without a bunch of em, cuz this is truly some epic, grim, funereal dooooooooooooooooooooom. Which avid readers of the aQ list will understand as shorthand for creeping glacial tempos, mournful, melancholy melodies, tarpit riffage, deep bellowed vox, pounding slow motion drums, atmospheric and fantastically depressive and miserable. The strange thing is, these guys crank out records like crazy, yet this is the first time we've reviewed a proper record of theirs, the only other time they've made it on the list, was via the Four Burials record, a split with Loss, Orthodox and Otesanek. And actually this collection right here gathers up various tracks from splits and comps, INCLUDING a partially re-recorded version of their song from that split, which we described thusly:
"Legendary purveyors of true doom, Australia's Mournful Congregation, whose sound is sad and sorrowful, melancholy and miserable, a gorgeously epic lugubrious crawl, super melodic, but totally washed out and painted in sweeping shades of black and grey. Think Skepticism, Thergothon, Esoteric, Asunder, the sort of dark, slow motion, soul stirring creep we could listen to forever."
Which indeed pretty much describes everything here, fans of the above mentioned bands who are somehow not already fans of these guys might as well start here. Five tracks, 43 minutes, including the aforementioned Four Burials track, as well as their tracks from the tribute to Thergothon, a split 10" with Stone Wings, a split 7" with Stabat Mater, and a split 7" with Worship, although we were definitely wondering how they managed to cram 8+ minutes onto a 7". Regardless, the sounds here are epic and dark, mournful and melancholy, crushing and gloriously despondent, the perfect soundtrack for black thoughts and broken souls, and essential doooooooooooooom for sure...
You know that Ed Wood movie, where the guy is sitting on his throne, atop a pile of gold, waving his arms dramatically, shouting "More gold!!! Mooooooore gold!! Sometimes we feel like that, only instead of gold, it's doom we're after. "Moooore dooooooom!!! Mooooore doooooooom!!!" And the powers that be seem to have heeded our call. And indeed blessed us with more doom.
This time around it, it has come in the form of French outfit Mourning Dawn, who traffic in an epic and majestic blackened doom.
Huge mournful riffs, simple plodding drums, but unlike most doom, the vocals are a blackened shriek, closer to Xasthur or Weakling than any traditional doom band. Harsh and raw, the vocals drift atop a relentless flow of classic doom. This is not so much filthy and funereal as it is epic and timeless. Less Moss and more My Dying Bride, more Solitude Aeturnus and less Esoteric. But this is not nearly as polished as that might lead you to believe, Rough edges still abound, but the root of Mourning Dawn's sound definitely lies with Cathedral, and My Dying Bride, Katatonia, Paradise Lost, and the like. Doom certainly, but with plenty of death and black swirled into the mix.
The songs are intense and emotional, dark and sorrowful, soaring melodies wrapped around dense slabs of sonic misery, gorgeous stretches of plodding doom joining blasts of midtempo buzz, but everything, always, wrapped in a black fog of abject misery, a neverending melancholia that seeps into every note like spilt blood. Killer.
A few weeks back, we got an unsolicited email from someone called Mr. Peter Hayden. Not being someone we had ever heard of, we might have just deleted it, if it weren't for the subject line, which read: "Finnish music trying to impress you." Hmmm. Still skeptical, we opened the email, only to discover that Mr. Peter Hayden was not in fact a person, but a five piece psychedelic combo from Finland, who had recently got some serious love on Julian Cope's Head Heritage website. The email also ended with the line: "I know every word I write here is a waste of our time until You take an hour off and dive deep in to the worlds the album will take You." We were pretty much sold. After all, Finland. Check. Psychedelic. Check. Cope. Check.
And once we threw it one, we were not disappointed, in fact, we were wondering, being the weirdo Finnish music obsessives we are, and being super obsessed with all strains of psychedelic space rock heaviness, how the hell we had missed out on these guys? Well, better late than never, and really all it took was about a minute and we knew this probably had to be a Record Of The Week. Heavy, atmospheric, druggy, dynamic, psychedelic, pounding drums, soaring guitars, streaks of feedback, wailing melodies, long stretches of swirling spaciness between bursts of chugging heaviness, and that's only a couple minutes in, total trip out heavy head music for sure. A single seventy minute jam, that builds and builds and builds, from that first blast of psychedelic heaviness, chugging, and churning, the sound gradually grows less and less spares, more propulsive, more metallic, by about six minutes in, the song has transformed into a roiling sprawl of psychedelic doom, but sort of freeform, and a little bit jazzy, the guitars riffing, but also splintering into wild squalls of tangled melodies, and unfurling lush swirling textures, the sort of rare sonic beast that immediately entrances, first time we listened to this, we listened to the whole thing all the way through, totally mesmerized, and in a druggy, hypno-rock trance. And speaking of hypno-rock, just wait a few more minutes and the band locks into a seriously cyclical groove, seemingly channeling vintage Circle, but augmenting the minimal riffage of Circle with clouds of psychguitar shimmer, and what sounds like a phalanx of buzzing humming synths (maybe just more guitars), wild dense tangles of thick corrosive guitar buzz, chordal swells, all wrapped around a main riff that just chugs along all hypnotic and motorik.
The sound shifts constantly, without ever losing momentum, slipping at one point into a sort of doomy dirge, only to blossom into what might be the poppiest part of the record, all major key melody and soaring majesty, and then seconds later, to dial everything back, and unfurl a brooding stretch of ultra minimal meander, all super spare drumming, guitar buzzing like sitars off in the distance, the sound laced with fragmented riffs, strange FX, bits of squiggly melody, and all manner of slow shifting textures, woozy and washed out and dreamily druggy, all of this dreaminess eventually interrupted by some seriously metallic heft, a crushing drum heavy distorted riff churn, but still surrounded by a swirl of psychedelic shimmer, that somehow keeps it from being just heavy, and makes it both heavy, and blissfully psychedelic.
The heaviness seems to ooze and expand, the various guitars switching from riffing to spiraling soaring melodies, a lurching lumbering groove that as far as we're concerned continue to the end of the record, but Mr. Peter Hayden have other things in mind, slipping into some soaring near Godspeed like post rock epic-ness, not to mention a weirdly mathy almost metallic breakdown, and throughout, more stretches of hushed minimal drift, softly psychedelic, drowsily dreamy, a continual push/pull between blown out psych and space rock crush, and blissed out mesmer and shimmery lysergic ambience, but like any great record of its stripe, Born A Trip ends with a serious blast of psychedelic heaviness, sounding like Neurosis almost, epic and crushing, blown out and metallic, a heavy psych coda that eventually fades into a final stretch of droned out slo-mo minimalism. Wow. So great.
obviously so very recommended for fans of Carlton Melton, White Hills, 3 Leafs, Gnod, Sylvester Anfang, and other interstellar psychedelic space rock explorers, as well as all of you who dig motorik Circle style hypnorock, Finnish freakiness, and just trippy spacey heaviness in general. Definitely a Record Of The Week, but a serious contender for Record Of The YEAR as well...
We've had some cd-r evidence a while back pointing to the existence of some mighty black beast, trolling the midnight forests of the New Zealand wilds, the thing they call Mrtyu, some say it's a man, but what kind of man can spew forth such a noxious cacophony? Some say it is a demon from the depths of hell, unleashed after centuries of incarceration in some hellish underground lair, but how did a demon learn to play a guitar and use a 4 track? We've been led to believe however that Mrtyu is actually the musical Mr. Hyde to one Antony Milton's Dr. Jeckyll. What proof do we have? The cd-r label Pseudo Arcana, run by an entity known as Antony Milton, Nether Dawn, a group fronted by a shadowy figure possibly also Mr. Milton, and then there are of course a couple previous cd-r releases, which are now known to be the work of one Antony Milton. This double disc collection gathers up all existing evidence, including previous releases as well as a brand new previously unreleased sonic document. Why the hubbub? Well, friends, it could be that Mrtyu offer up some of the darkest, blackest, heaviest sounds south of Heaven? That to trudge through Mrtyu's sonic world is a journey to the brink of madness? Perhaps, but the best way to truly understand the fury and glory of the mighty Mrtyu is to listen. Each track a blast of primitive power, each with it's own unique sonic energy. Sheets of shimmering feedback drift over crumbly rumbling super distorted guitar background noise. Very static and raga-like, quite reminiscent of Total or Skullflower. A lo-fi doom dirge, with jagged brittle guitars, distorted vocals (not howls or shrieks, but like indie crooning, all 'distorted' up). A brief blast of Melvins-y sludge but with the high end pushed into the red. Almost like a indie pop song, but deconstructed and dipped in stoner sludge. A bit of Sunroof!, a bit of Angus Maclise, a lush shimmering drone, with peals of feedback and throbbing smears of downtuned guitar, all tangled into a gorgeously static thrum. Drones cloaked in black, damaged and druggy, ultra distorted guitars, so downtuned and blown out it sounds like some sort of tectonic event, the guitars form the framework for a truly oppressive atmosphere, a swirl of black clouds and Butthole Surfers-esque feedback, while atop it all, a demonic voice intones and howls and squeals like a rusted hinge. Think Khanate meets Abruptum, but filtered through than NZ noize aesthetic. A howling hellish musical journey through the fires of hell, trudging across pits of black pitch, being dragged bloody and screaming through dark demon infested forests. So harsh and beautifully bilious, drones become dirges, dirges become drones, everything cloaked in black and swathed in buzz.
Bow supplicant, pray for forgiveness, wish for survival, bathe in the blood from your ringing ears. All hail Mrtyu.
These musical missives come housed in a hand screened green and blue, three panel cardstock sleeve, adorned with all manner of pagan and tribal imagery, quite striking!
(Psst... the artwork on the discs got swapped at the plant, so the disc marked DISC 1 actually contains the music from disc 2 and vice versa. Just the demon Mrtyu messing with our heads wethink!)
First full length from this female Australian doom duo, three looooong tracks, and then 5 tracks from their demo tacked on to the end, good stuff too, and not the 'normal' doom we usually get around here either. Not sludgey crusty funeral ultra doom, or plodding lumbering blackened doom, no this is somewhere more along the lines of classic old school doom, but mixed with some more modern miserablism a la Skepticism, Esoteric (Murkrat labelmates), all mournful and melancholy, the guitars fuzzy and washed out, the drums plodding and skeletal, the riffs sometimes super Sabbathy, other times much more abstract, and then the vocals, dark and dramatic and a bit gothic, perfectly complimenting the sound in a way growls or screeches never really can. And then there's the organs, thick swells of keyboard that give the tracks a seriously ancient ominous vibe. The production is strange, almost like a Trollmann record, especially with the guitars and the keys, muddied and muted, heavy, but a sort of dreary windswept heaviness. The vocals sometimes shift into witchy rasps, but still spend most of their time hovering hypnotically above the churning riffs and doomic drumming.
The demo tracks are sonically not that far removed from the new tracks, if anything the vocals are a bit louder and more present, in fact it sounds like maybe both are singing more on the demo, the riffs are still murky, the drums buried in the mix, the riffs lugubrious and fuzz drenched, a sort of seventies British folk mixed with classic doom, which we shouldn't have to tell you is a wicked combination.
Fans of classic doom will definitely dig, as well as anyone who has been digging stuff like Jex Thoth, Blood Ceremony and various other female fronted modern doom combos. And check their Metal-Archives page, frontwoman Mandy V.K.S. Cattleprod just might be our latest metal girl crush!
Album number two from this Swedish stoner rock outfit. Vocalist Spice, now an ex-Spiritual Beggars member, definitely still brings in much of the vibe of his former band. The Mushroom River boys rock hard and heavy, playing Kyuss/Monster Magnet style, seventies-inspired stuff just as you'd expect. As with their first album, another solid but same-y Swedish entry in the stoner rock sweeps.
I, Sadie, am reviewing this record as a devout fan of goth music and soundtracks, who is not that knowledgeable or interested in metal. The name My Dying Bride intrigued me, and I find that their music does too -- the songs are long and gloomy, with beautiful
British heavy gloom metallers return to their roots, abandoning their flirtations with '90s radio-friendly goth rock, and instead creating a great album of doom-death metal of the sort that made them famous in the first place.
THIS IS CURRENTLY OUT OF PRINT OR OTHERWISE UNAVAILABLE TO US AT THE MOMENT, SO PLEASE DO NOT ORDER IT. SORRY.
SORRY.
This "mystic crew" are an all-instrumental New Orleans Southern stoner rock supergroup of sorts, with members of the already incestous acts Eyehategod, Down, and Crowbar. Featuring good ol' '70s style Hammond organ, this is definitely more on the havin' fun psych-jam side of the stoner spectrum than the doom-death-dirge side. They take their New Orleans roots seriously, too, as much of this has a festive Mardi Gras vibe, kinda funky like they've been alternating Meters LPs with the Sabbath, Skynrd, and Floyd on their turntable. This disc is no stranger to mellowness, either, with some spacey moments when you can contemplate the Tibetan wisdom explained in the liner notes, before the jams get kicked out yet again in righteous fashion. Cool.
A brand new full length from our favorite doom-drone / doom-gaze duo, Nadja, and it's on one of our favorite labels too, Brazil's Essence Music, who in the past have brought us incredible releases from Acid Mothers Temple, Henrik Nordvargr Bjorkk, Boris, Merzbow, and Rapoon. But this is not the regular release. We are honored to be the only place in the world, other than the label itself, to be selling the super limited, deluxe, handmade boxset version, limited to just 149 copies, already completely sold out, except for a handful saved just for us, and for you. These are pricey, but they are incredible, gorgeously and lovingly assembled, with TONS of extra stuff, and there are less than 10 copies left, so get one before they're gone. More on the record proper in a second, but we figured we'd best explain what all comes in the box, in fact first there's the box itself, hand painted and decorated using several techniques, collaged, stitched and an intricate ink layering painting process. The box is gorgeous, but inside, you'll find the standard edition of the album, lavishly assembled in a custom 6-panel digisleeve housing a set of 6 cards set with beautiful watercolor paintings and artwork by Portuguese artist L. Filipe dos Santos. PLUS, as a bonus, an alternative DOUBLE cd-r set comprising the album (same version/mastering) and a DTS 5.1 version of it - this one mastered/mixed by Anders Peterson and including an exclusive remix - housed in a 6-panel package with a striking and utterly different artwork by Iremir Oscar and Essence head honcho Uirajara Resende PLUS an inedit live recording from earlier this year, also on cd-r. That's FOUR discs instead of just the one. PLUS, honoring the album's theme - skin and blood - there's also an individually painted and hand-assembled 16-page book - each page is totally unique - and strange souvenirs, like a pen-like object and a large painted band that holds the whole set together.
WOW. Like we said, there are less than 10 of these left, we are taking PRE-ORDERS for these, they are NOT in stock, once we know how many we need, we'll order them from Brazil and should have them within a week to 10 days. So if you order this with other stuff, your order will ship minus the Nadja box, which will ship by itself, or if you are a regular mailorder customer, probably in your next order, but you will be charged for it NOW, if you want one don't dawdle.
And if you are a Nadja fan, you're definitely gonna want one of these, sure all Nadja records are pretty great, but this one is incredible, an hour long three part epic, the heaviest, most lush and orchestral and intense record we've heard from these two yet. The opening track, clocking in at 25 minutes, begins as a hushed bit of dreamy drift, all gauzy and washed out and shimmery, layered melodies, shifting and swirling and so lovely, very Pop Ambient in fact, until about 12 minutes in, when the drums kick in, the guitars explode, but it doesn't simply get heavier, or louder, it sounds orchestral, huge moaning melodies, what sounds like strings or horns, epic and kaleidoscopic, the sound living and breathing, prismatic and totally warm and glowing, a heaving chunk of blissed out dreamlike heaviness.
The second movement is more traditionally heavy, a chugging churning slab of lumbering doom, the pounding drum machine and buzzing riffs, wreathed in a swirling cloud of hiss and buzz and Technicolor effulgence, a sort of incendiary Godflesh style industrial crunch, with buried howled vocals, and constantly shifting patina of glitched out effects and electronic buzz, which gives away to the 26 minute closer, beginning with super spare acoustic guitars, which drift into a shimmering field of prismatic glimmer, eventually exploding into another slab of blown out orchestral epic dream doom, totally majestic, and almost choral sounding, wrapped in sheets of staticky buzz, the sound getting more and more fierce and intense and threatening to blow your speakers, total chaos and catharsis, blissful but ultra intense, finally, relenting, and leaving gorgeous sonic vapor trails, laced with buried boy girl vox, a dreamy understated coda, to a seriously epic bit of orchestral buzz drenched bliss. So great.
We WILL have the standard version, keep your eyes peeled for it on a future list, or ask us to reserve you one, but those of you who want the QUADRUPLE DISC HANDMADE DELUXE BOXSET, now's the time...
As we've mentioned in past reviews, it gets harder and harder to know what to say about Nadja and Aidan Baker records. Not just because there are so many of them, but because they all mine similar sonic territory, and heck, they all sound fantastic. This latest limited lp release is no different.
Baker, half of the duo that is Nadja (but you knew that), also has a strange habit of re-recording old songs, which drives completists and obsessive fans up the wall. Such is the case with Belles Betes, 4 solo Aidan Baker tracks, here reimagined and performed by Nadja, which basically means tracks that tended toward the minimal and drifty, get some crunch and buzz, pretty shimmer transformed into blessed out crush. And like we mentioned above, these tracks are fantastic, different enough from the originals that they're well worth owning. Probably most of you know what to expect from Nadja at this point, but just in case, the sound here is dripping with thick crumbling distortion, washed out weary vocals, muted machinelike percussion, a pounding Godfleshian post industrial metallic shoegaze, falling somewhere between M83 and Jesu, warm, thick, lustrous, epic, but somehow simultaneously melancholy and mournful.
The standout track might be "Green And Cold", the title track from a Baker disc we sold tons of, here the song becomes a bit of marginally new wave-y slowcore, spare and spacious, moody and haunting, and maybe the creepiest and mysteriously lovely Nadja jam yet.
LIMITED TO 500 COPIES. Pressed on 180 gram vinyl, packaged in a super thick book bound lp sleeve.
We have a friend who has become so obsessed with the work of Nadja and its mainman Aidan Baker, that he spends way more time than is healthy trolling the internet looking of long lost 7"s and rare out of print cd-r's. It's easy to see why though. Baker's sonic explorations are as mesmerizing as they are ominous. A truly unique musical voice in a suddenly way too crowded microniche. Call it doom. Or drone. Or dirge. Or better yet deathdoomdronedirge. It's a sound we can't get enough of, the logical extension of our obsession with the drone. And while we still love to drift off to the soft shimmer of a distant rumble, when you imbue a drone with more power, and more volume, and more wattage it becomes something new, a fearsome sonic beast, whether it's a subtly snarling growl of grit and grime, or a massive undulating wave of black hole fury, a drone possessed of power becomes a glorious thing to behold. And no one has as deft a hand with the drone than Baker, And Nadja is the ultimate drone via rock band. Beyond the ultra minimalism of Sunn 0))), way prettier than the filthy dirges of Moss or Monarch, Nadja are almost like some indie slowcore band but lit from within by some otherworldy source. Every track is suffused with a warm rich glow that is almost blinding, but at the same time warm and inviting. It's heavy, sure, but it's more just plain beautiful. Like staring into the sun until your eyes start playing tricks on you. Imagine listening to a sound so loud, so bright, that the synapses in your brain misfire, and your ear scrambles to make sense of this sound, and in doing so, forges all kinds of unlikely connections, subtle melodic threads, paints a lush sonic portrait. Now imagine a music that was played to already sound like that, before it even got to you. Just imagine what your mind and your ears would do with a sound like that. Some sort of unreachable aural nirvana suddenly within reach. That's the music of Nadja. It's like watching a sunset slowed down so each subtle shimmer stretches out forever, each ray of sunlight is tangled up with another, writhing in sparkling glistening knots, slowly unraveling, stretching, into endless streaks of gorgeous muted color. Imagine Jesu, but dosed to the gills on Prozac, a shiny happy Godfleshian dirge, or a My Bloody Valentine riff looped and repeated forever, underpinned by some Can drum loop at 16 rpm, or a Teenage Filmstars 45 played at 33. This is epic ultradoom metal, but with the metal replaced by soft billowy clouds of fuzzy distortion, the howling fury twisted into dreamlike tranquility, the blasting beats pulled apart and sprinkled here and there like percussive raindrops. This is as soft and pretty as a dirge-y drone can get while still retaining its inherent doomic mass. Utter and absolute loveliness drenched in a thick patina of crushing heaviness. Impossible but perfect.
For a while, every band wanted to sound like SUNNO))), and the bands that didn't usually had side projects that did, each offering up their own take on the slow motion barely moving glacial doom drone we all love so much. But pretty soon, those massive slabs of barely shifting buzz, the huge chunks of rumble that sounded like nothing but a guitar leaned against an amp, started to soften, get more melodic, almost dreamy, and thus a new genre was born. Not sure what it's really called. Some sort of blown out bliss pop. Still heavy, the tempos still lugubrious and plodding, everything drenched in distortion and blurry shimmery fuzz, but the songs now had a melancholy pop center, a glimmery glowing core. At the forefront of this new sound there were two, Jesu of course, Justin Broadrick's post-Godflesh project, and Nadja, the doomy side of a Canadian crafter of drones by the name of Aidan Baker. There are plenty of comers, the Angelic Process, Gog, and a handful of others, but it seems to be a race between Baker and his Nadja, and Broadrick and his Jesu. Broadrick probably has Baker beat in terms of songs, Jesu is a bonafide pop group at this point, verses, choruses, and HOOKS everywhere, but in most other ways, Baker has the upper hand. Certainly in terms of sheer number of releases, but also, Baker works more with texture and timbre, creating songs, but only in the most abstract sense, riffs repeat, each one a gorgeous cyclical trudge through dense clouds of swirling buzz, vocals drift, another layer of sound, everything bathed in effervescent reverb, and sun dappled delay. The distortion thick and soft, not harsh or jagged, the rhythms pulsing and throbbing as much as pounding.
On Corrasion, very little has changed. Which is a good thing. More of what we already love. The record is rife with sonic subtleties though, enough so that Nadja obsessives will have much to explore and discover, and thus Corrasion is far from redundant, instead functioning as another integral piece in Baker's seemingly never ending sonic puzzle, and beyond that, it just sounds so goddamn good. Hard to imagine ever getting sick of these endless gorgeous metallic dronescapes.
And while pretty much any of these records would be perfect for the Nadja newbie, Corrasion might just be the perfect place to start...
