Split-EP Review: Ef / Tiny Fingers – Vāyu

This split-EP is a collaboration between a ten-year old act from Gothenburg and a leading force in the Israeli music scene.

With a decade of live performances under their belt, the DIY post-rockers Ef have played with a vast range of bands and have built up a reputation for appeasing fans of both sweet sounds and heavy crush. Here, they set about drawing inspiration from the natural world to piece together a heart-warming wash of colour.

“Hiraeth” stretches into view with its exposed soft underbelly instantaneously exposed. It’s a gently tentative, rich piece of ambient music with building drums and an orchestral flood of violins. It’s only at its climax that the claws come out as the band show they are unafraid of tackling distortion and discordance. “Sju” works the emotions a little harder by managing to fuse melancholy and warming afterglow. Within a heartbeat rhythm, yawning violins and a sparkling synth wash, they filter the echoing sound of chirruping nature. Each delicate note is placed carefully and used sparingly, with the focus on space and echo, to create a series of continuous, supple fluctuations.

The remarkably odd “11ShotsAndSuddenDeath” moves keenly from piano-led meander into what feels like a reprise of “Sju”. It honestly feels like we’ve been dumped midway through a song into a chorus. “And down we fall” is a catchy hook but after the millionth time it does get repetitive. The song feels incomplete despite the fact that it has two natural conclusions within it. Beyond even that we find it then dragging on unnecessarily to 8:11. It’s the unconvincing song that won’t die.

Next on the bill we get instrumental psych-rockers Tiny Fingers. With their diverse sound, these dudes have been asked to perform with such diverse acts as The Mars Volta, Damian Marley and the Dub Trio. When you hear their music, it’s not difficult to see the connections.

“Dust” offers up a broken backbeat with samples, coloured with a rich cosmic vibe and a smattering of electronic effects courtesy of the fantastically-named keyboard player, Nimrod Bar. Wild, overdriven guitar a la Monster Magnet completes the set as suddenly we find ourselves in a whole other universe to the one we began in. After pitching up such a curveball, “Sanhedrin” simply hits it out of the park. A super-smooth jazzy set-up with brushed drums drives a sampled wash burning with portent. Like waves crashing back and forth on the beach it shimmers on and on, morphing to oblivion and I love it.

One presumes it’s the pair’s vintage sound that convinced them to combine EP’s but one suspects it’s more the case of a label alpha dragging along a rough diamond. It seems a pretty safe bet that most will come away having discovered something they dig, but also plenty of filler that they wish they hadn’t uncovered.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/10/ef-tiny-fingers-vayu-pelagic-records/

Album Review: Joy – Ride Along!

What’s that shouty man want and where is that thundering rhythm coming from? Looks like San Diego’s psych rockers Joy have been at it again. Here they offer up a rock ’em, sock ’em follow up to 2014’s Under The Spell Of Joy which just so happened to pick up a gong and a thoroughly glowing review from Guitar World. For Ride Along! the band have grabbed help where they can and a quick scan shows us we have guest spots from Earthless drummer Mario Rubalcaba, Radio Moscow guitarist Parker Griggs and guitarist Brenden Dellar, of Tee Pee labelmates Sacri Monti.

This long-player rapidly establishes itself as a feisty little number by tearing off at a fair old lick. It’s hectic, bass-heavy, not averse to a spot of impressive guitar noodling, and you’ll also find a vocal set well back in the mix. In fact, it’s so far back there, it’s almost a distraction and takes some getting used to. Reminiscent of the echoing, deliberately thin delivery that rock bands like Jackson Firebird and Foxy Shazam often employ for effect, this is constant and actually borders on the punishing rants so favoured by The Sex Pistols. Stripped back, it’s just a harsh, punked-up statement but don’t expect an easy ride all the same.

Happily the fat fuzzing blues that wander behind Zachary Oakley’s wailing wall are way cool. So whilst tracks like the discordant “Help Me” and “Red, White and Blues” grab you like some snotty mohican-sporting yobbo, there are the rumbling thrills of ZZ Top’s “Certified Blues” and the captivating, string-bending rock monster “Gypsy Mother’s Son” to balance it all out. If those beauties still fail to tickle your tastebuds then the psychedelic breakfast of “Peyote Blues” will. Elsewhere the groove-laden strut of the title-track and the twin-fingered salute of “Evil Woman” provide a complete sense of just how versatile this band can actually be when they want to play.

It’s pretty wild fare but, hey, everyone needs a good solid boot up the arse every now and then, and this twisted son could just be the throwback rock n’roll powerhouse we’ve all secretly been craving.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/04/joy-ride-along-tee-pee/

Album Review: Holy Grove - Holy Grove

Formed in 2012, this release marks the eponymous debut album from the doom-friendly quartet from Portland, Oregon. Sounding like a mind-meld between the cauldron-staring Black Pyramid, the dynamic Blues Pills, and the fantasy riff-chucking of The Sword, Holy Grove’s self-titled debut focusses on pitching buzzing stoner into 70s doom riffs that glisten with Lovecraftian intent.

Opener “Death of Magic” swings a sackful of big hearty bass, ladles on the groove and rocks you from pillar to post. Throughout fuzz-driven guitar riffs pitch and yaw all around whilst Vidal’s softly echoing vocal floats above it all. Her determinedly heartfelt cries bear a striking similarity to the storming output from Acid King’s Lori S.

Further in, “Nix” pulls out some feisty hooks and chucks in more psychedelic noodling before dropping into a half-time cosmic crawl to end. The heartstone of the piece though is the one-two segued caress of the title-track and the addictive bluesy lines of “Huntress”. They bear emotion that grips and won’t let go – “Kneel down at the altar”, indeed.

The Sabbathian-influenced “Caravan” wraps itself around the classic riff of the aforementioned’s “Evil Woman” before the 9-minuter, “Hanged Man”, with its dark chanting and punishing, warped overdrive tips a hat to Saint Vitus and seals the deal.

They’ve clearly had a ball making this album; you can hear the glee in their riff worship. Their continued deference to the metal gods of times past works for them as it stands up on its own – a stonking creation. Yep, there’s nothing truly innovational here but it’s still a thoroughly joyful experience and they are deservedly going down a storm in the live arena.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/04/holy-grove-st-heavy-psych-sounds/

Album Review: VŌDŪN – Possession

London turbo-doom trio, VŌDŪN, are a live act like no other. Dabbling in all things voodoo they paint their music and themselves accordingly and allow the crowd’s focus to fall naturally upon their vocal icon – one Chantal Brown (a.k.a. Oya), once member of Chrome Hoof. She is the veritable stick of dynamite with a crystalline, pulsing vocal that borders on the operatic. Crush that into a small room and throw in Ogoun and Marassa (her co-conspirators) and their gutsy, thundering backline and you’ve got an overwhelming burst of colour-drenched music.

One fleeting experience with them at the London Underworld, watching them steal the show from opening slot, was enough to burn their name onto my cortex; so it was a happy day when their debut album landed in my inbox. Could they reproduce anything like the same impact shorn of their visual show?

From the off, we quickly learn that their moniker refers to the god of the West African Yoruba people and their religion – the inspiration behind the distorted voodoo tropes we’ve all assimilated from the movies. Through a series of track-linking spoken passages, we also learn that the band can come across as a little preachy.

Skipping over that then, the music itself is indelibly marked with many of Skindred’s tribal touchpoints and rumbles along with a passionate, rhythmic flow. Oya’s enormous vocal immediately takes centre-stage which is only right considering the quality. I can see how the dominance of it could be a marmite issue and the shock value has diminshed somewhat from being within touching distance of it which is a shame. Any way you take it though, she sells every note and gives her all in an impassioned display of both control and range.

There are plenty of standout tracks: “Bloodstones” simmers with joyously soft blue notes that whip up into gutsy driven climaxes; her own “Oya” allows our resplendent vocalist to fully stretch out her peacock’s feathers; “Legbas Feast” brings in folky elements and enigmatic sounds of the jungle to create campfire music to dance to; and “Mawu” delivers an unctuously thick, fuzzed undercurrent that stands in direct contrast to Oya’s vocal clarity.

Having fully road-tested it, there is an unerring similarity between the tracks and the album loses its sense of purpose as it reaches its conclusion. One particular thorn is “Divinity” that quickly abandons its drive for a dissolute structure that skips between structural sections without truly defining any of them.

VŌDŪN’s number one selling point is that they bring something fresh-sounding to a stagnant scene. They seem boundless by design and big on extracting the core triumvirate of soul, psych and blues. With a compelling live show already nailed on, if they stick to those three emotion-sparking keystones they will remain a beguiling act to follow.



Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/03/vodun-possession-riff-rock-records/

Album Review: Brant Bjork + The Low Desert Punk Band – Black Power Flower

When it comes to musical know-how, you can bet your bottom dollar that Brant Bjork (Ex-Kyuss, Vista Chino) has done it, been there, and bought the t-shirt. So if he decides he wants his music to get heavy then you can sure as hell expect him to do that. Not for you, not for anyone else, but because he feels like doing it.

The result is his Black Flower Power and it comes with a no-nonsense helping of oomph. Described by the man himself, it’s music that sounds something “like the late-’60s with that heavy rock sound”. Sporting new faces in his morphing support cast, his so-called ‘Low Desert Punk Band’ (consisting of Bubba DuPree, Tony Tornay and Dave Dinsmore) certainly seem to have given him the impetus he needed to get the sound he wanted. To these ears, there’s a modern twist to it all. There’s a smidgen of Black Label Society’s southern groove, a sun-kissed sprinkling of QOTSA, mere hints at Faith No More’s panache and a big smeggy wodge of Fu Manchu’s fuzz-friendly stoner. The end result? A flower-totin’, burnt-out, buzzed-up Lenny Kravitz.

There’s catchy stompers like “We Don’t Serve Their Kind” and “Boogie Woogie On Your Brain” and then there’s big, bluesy cuts like “Buddy Time”, “Ain’t No Runnin'” and “Stokely Up Now”. The latter has a wickedly lurching cadence with a vocal style that comes at you in snatches. The whole thing sucks you in and makes you smile – particularly the addictive shout of “Hey… did you see that? That’s a dog and that’s a cat!” If those tracks don’t slay you, then the chunky blues of “That’s A Fact, Jack”, with its duelling guitars (the overdrive fuzzed groove in your right ear and the intricate lead with little licks of whammy and kicks of wah-wah in your left), should get your heart racing.

Bringing the pace down, “Hustler’s Blues” sees Brant call up a layered, Mike Patton-esque, self-harmonising vocal giving the whole album a sweet sign off. Sadly, things don’t quite end there though. There’s still the rotational, psychedelic freakout of “Where You From, Man” to endure. With an extended jammed-out running time, it’s total filler. He’s due a little self-indulgence but this just doesn’t fit with the remainder (which is why it probably lurks like the proverbial bad egg at the real album end).

There’s also very little experimentation beyond Brant’s initial concept. It could be the fact that there is so much fuzz flying around or that there’s plenty of repetition, but there is a tendency for the songs to leak into each other which is a shame. In the main though it’s a solid, worthwhile album that throws retro sounds, lives and concepts into fresh light. And it’s damn funky to boot.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/11/brant-bjork-black-power-flower-napalm/

Streaming now: https://soundcloud.com/napalmrecords/brant-bjork-and-the-low-desert-punk-band-stokely-up-now

Album Review: The Golden Grass – S/T

The Golden Grass are all about kicking back in the summer sun and letting their combination of blissed-out blues and warbling psych rock gently fold in around you. If their moniker didn’t give you a heads-up, most certainly the artwork on their debut album, a beautifully coloured piece by Niko Potocniak (founder of space rockers Seven That Spells), should do. Hailing from Brooklyn, NY, the band combine the sultry, sparse qualities of 60s groovers like The Move and The Animals with 70s boogie bands such as Cactus and Steely Dan. With added retro psychedelic soundscaping, the combination produces a rhythmic drive and tonal quality not unlike the funkier, trippier side of contemporary stylists like those of Danava and Horisont.

Most certainly it is Joe Noval’s bold electric bass that provides the solid framework allowing Michael Rafalwich’s wacky use of sustain and distortion to colour the picture with oodles of fuzz and echo. Fleshing it all out, the laid-back vocal harmonies are a case of steady-as-she-goes. Lyrically, there’s plenty of reassuring repetition allowing it all to stick in the mind. Hooked throughout, the wordplay and riffs will have you humming and singing in the bath long after the last note has faded.

The wildly theatrical psychedelic intro of “Please Man” quickly kicks into a head-bobbing verse. There’s a sweet, shuffling middle-eight, a dropout into chilled-out half-time and a switch into yet another echoing backdrop of cosmic wash. On the flipside, “Stuck On A Mountain” is more straight-up. It has fistfuls of smooth harmonics and an enigmatic pinged, top-end bassline that gets you deep in the gut. The rhythm jinks and jives always adding flavour. “One More Time” and “Sugar N’ Spice” both have lashings of soft-bellied guitar buzz and a harder, bluesier edge that both evoke plenty of Lynyrd Skynyrd. The groove and blatant funk kick on the latter makes it well worth the extended running time.

The album’s balance rocks a little with the over-indulgent “Wheels”.  At 13 minutes, it does account for almost half the album, so its choppy nature is somewhat concerning. Opening and closing as a fine piece of music to stick in your car when you’re breezing down country roads, the groove suddenly goes missing in the middle. Whether the plethora of warp effect guitar solos and disconnected drum showboating can really warrant repeated listens is debatable. At one point the track implodes, becoming little more than a series of disturbing whale sounds. Surely, this isn’t just an attempt to stretch an EP into an LP, is it? What does stand out is the walking bass and passionate jamming.

The Golden Grass’ crowning glory, of course, is that seemingly effortless, lush groove that they generate. Be it a field of flowers or the warm sands of a tropical beach that you imagine running through your fingers as you listen, the very fact that they take you drifting along with them proves that they are pushing all the right buttons. So hop on board… you really won’t regret it.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/05/the-golden-grass-st-svart-records/

Album Review: Landskap - I

Landskap may be a common word in Scandinavia (you can probably guess its meaning) but this coming-together of 60s and 70s heavy psych obsessives actually hail from London, England. Formed in 2012 by members of Father Sun, SerpentCult, Fen, Pantheist and Dead Existence, their debut LP reeks of retrospective magick - right down to the tracklisting. It's a 34-minute, 4-song, 2-track disc - the 2 tracks being a hypothetical Side A and Side B in true arcane vinyl tradition. It is Landskap's refusal to fully bow their heads to modern music industry demands that lands the first blow in their war on the new world in which we all dwell.

From the off, the delicately-balanced 12 minutes of layering that constitute "A Nameless Fool" draw inspiration from Pentagram's psychedelic catalogue combined with Sabbath's soft-sided drift. There's an opening explosion of cymbals and strings that drop off into a cosmos-wandering solo. As the bell tolls in, the emotional atmosphere and elephantine pacing is set for Jake Harding's sultry resonant vocal to impart his words of wisdom into the echoing yonder.

"The things you crave, they draw you near / Desire's reason remains unclear / But still you crawl on weathered hands / Dragging down your fellow man."

As the demonic solo drops you'll find yourself straining to pick up a wedge of fat-stringed dissonance. Had they thrown that in, you'd be staring straight down the barrel of St. Vitus. In its place, a warbling organ rumbles along in the background sprinkling a fresh layer of cheese. It's immediately clear that Landskap are the preachers and us fans of old school doom are the converted.

Somewhat precariously tacked onto the end of Side A is the menacingly-titled "A Cabin In The Woods". Surprisingly it takes us about as far from the dark horror that its title suggests. Instead, we get a 3-minute gently warbling instrumental full of warming tones and astral patterning that takes us floating towards the exploratory edges of bands like Procul Harum and Pink Floyd.

As Side B kicks in, "Fallen So Far" rolls up with a feisty riff and a dark purpose. There's one initial smack of heady psych rock before it all settles back into doom-laden verses with a dissonant, splattering bass and antagonistic choruses. The whole stomp soon steps it all up into double-time and we're quickly careering towards a noisy oblivion. Headbangers beware - this is a beast.

"To Harvest The Storm" is another warm-toned instrumental with top-end wandering bass and twinkling, echoing Doors-esque organ. As the guitars kick in the rhythm gets more urgent and the smacks of Deep Purple and Hendrix begin to really come through. By the end you'll be jiving to the Hammond-induced psychedelics like a tripped-out turkey, arms flailing, head rotating, lost in the midsts of some intense Woodstockian flashback. Yes, at 12:30 it is a monster but, by god, it's worth every second for the intense surge of climactic pleasure that it offers.

Way too short, yet beguilingly sweet and utterly absorbing, you could wedge this debut into the heart of your old man's record collection and he wouldn't even flinch. It's hard to decide whether Landskap are retro to the point of being reclusive obsessives or whether they just invented a time machine and brought this "debut" back as a gift. Whichever, a debt is owed.

Also online @ Scratch The Surface = http://www.scratchthesurface-webzine.com/2014/04/landskap-i-review.html