Album Review: Queen Elephantine - Kala

With a production value as rough as a hangover, Queen Elephantine cast a little one-take stardust over their music. It’s lo-fi and dissolute. Hearing them recorded can’t be far away from the aural experience of seeing them live. Feedback and fuzz are their friends. Farting sub-bass is a constant bedfellow and hissing snare is their heartbeat.

In opener, “Quartered” they thrust together a visceral, spiked form of electro-punk and staple it to the slow drift of melancholic doom. Think of a heavy-lidded, tripping version of Bleach-era Nirvana and you won’t be far off. The two-chord attack of “Quartz” (and twin “Deep Blue”) takes us a step further by introducing yawning vocal stabs with spasmodic bursts of guitar. The mid-track drop into a maudlin build lets the bass rumble play on alone to really dig out a groove.

Elsewhere, the tribal toms of “Onyx” lay the rhythm for a slow-burning psychedelic jam: sliding, trundling, chaotically pulsing and phasing with discordance, chaotic input and abstract warmth. A kind of loose-seated Weedeater with added feedback. To finish, the marvellously-titled “Throne Of The Void In The Hundred Petal Lotus” is a sedate, amorphous sludge oozing its way down a blood-red river clogged with writhing, pain-racked bodies and in through the gates of Hell.

What you’ll find is so stripped, so devoid of complexity, so unloveable and so unrefined that it offers little beyond that initial impact of rediscovering the thrill of the avant-garde; the early flush of youth where quality mattered little. If lo-fi doom is your bag, you’ll get a kick from this but you won’t cherish it for long.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/11/queen-elephantine-kala-transcending-obscurity/

https://queenelephantine.bandcamp.com/album/kala
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Album Review: Asteroid – III

The “reactivation” of Swedish trio Asteroid, following a two year hiatus, has quickly led to the release of a seven-track third album rather unsurprisingly called III. Mostly we are dealing with the standard fayre of chunky swathes of fat fuzz over a groovy shuffling beat interspersed with thick, meaty riffs and walking solos. Like a slumbering Graveyard or Horisont, this is inspired retro; an evocative step back into the crackling bliss-buzz of 70s rock n’ roll.

“Pale Moon” has a recycling topline riff that buzzes about like a bee trapped in a bottle. It’s a total earworm but, by the third run-through, not in a good way. It’s a blessed relief when its steady disintegration into white noise is finally complete. “Last Days” swings a little more; a loose-limbed slice of Americana with a sweet, folky hue.

Robin Hirse’s emotive vocal wraps itself lazily around the rhythmic backline drawing you temptingly into each track. His lyrics are often dark – “Death will come, he always does / for each and every one of us” – complementing the melancholic tones that lurk within the music. For “‘Til Dawn” he gnarls up his delivery to match the bass-boogie and old-school riffery. For “Wolf & Snake” he bristles as his vocal drops in the mix and takes on a powerful, cracking quality to it. Solid, intense and heady at every turn, the groove makes this a sure-fire stand-out.

With the tracks sliding off the bat, chilled, smooth and easy. it’s a bit of a shock when “Them Calling” hits. Suddenly the music gets urgent, driven with menacing mantras and demonic choral chanting. Warnings such as “Like the pain of a rusty chain around your neck / I’ll make damned sure that you never will forget” quickly make you realise we have strayed from the true path. Rather brilliantly, the metallic tang of steel invades the chords and the distortion and overdrive begin to shatter our repose.

III is a cracking little step back in time with a nice twist in the tail. It’s sadly a tad short at 35 minutes and besides a couple of tracks it fails to bring anything especially new to the table. Having said that it’s spectacularly solid and funnily enough makes for a great driving album.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/11/asteroid-iii-fuzzorama/

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: Karma To Burn – Mountain Czar

Since time immemorial man has been hitting big things with smaller things to make noise for pleasure. For twenty of those years Karma To Burn have been doing the same thing. Today, they are still rattling out their special brand of euphoric instrumentals preset with thick grooves and deliberately obtuse track-titles. They may have a new bassist but the rule of thumb for this American trio still seems to be if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.

Averse to the idea of being labelled as either stoners or desert-dwellers, despite navigating the good ship Karma along similar currents, they do seem to have settled upon a descriptor and so shall hereforth be labelled in my collection as Mountain Rock.

Diving straight into this EP, it seems the badge certainly fits. Vast grooves roll off the conveyor belt like avalanches. Opener “Sixty-Two” digs out a thunderous underscore of heaving drums and bucking guitars. It riffs off that with little bending chord structures and diving arpeggios. Following up, “Sixty-One” sports a similar rolling rhythm but with a feistier edge and with a battle metal twist. It’s like something The Sword might dig out, only with the heaviosity ramped up to 11.

Elsewhere, the star of the show “Sixty” simply grips it and rips it. An addictive opening riff which is pre-loaded with a subtle minor that instantly shifts up the neck and will prove an irresistible force – there simply won’t be a single static soul on their forthcoming European tour when they dig this one out. That’s an absolute guarantee. As a counterpoint, “Sixty-Three” has a great opening spoken rip from “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” but from there it’s all pretty docile as they rotate around a gently-paced swinging surf rock pattern.

Sadly, they also pick this one to rip up their rulebook by choosing to butcher a classic in a misguided attempt at blowing minds. “Uccidendo Un Segno” is the culprit (a cover of Tom Petty’s “Running Down A Dream”) introducing Stefanie Savy, an Italian vocalist singing in her native language. A solo by Sons Of Morpheus guitarist Manuel Bissing completes the surprise. It sticks out like a sore thumb, blasting away mindlessly and breaking the classy buzz that the first three tracks built up in a heartbeat. Petty’s is a work of genius and I hate having to refer to that song in anything other than glowing terms – but what the hell were they thinking of? It’s a germ of an idea that needed to be left in the jam room or worked upon to create more of the original’s simple nous and foot on/foot off cadence.

Still, you can’t win ’em all and with whited-out retro rock so heavily back in favour, they may not be hitting the bullseye every time but they are certainly bang on point with this.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/03/karma-to-burn-mountain-czar-rodeostar/

Album Review: All Them Witches – Dying Surfer Meets His Maker

Direct from the recording studio of a remote mountainside cabin, hand-built by the band, perched above the fake glamour of Dollywood, here comes an utterly bewitching album of luxuriantly rich sounds. It draws its inspiration from across the dusty plains, glutinous swamps and rolling hills of arcane America and knits together the softer edges of desert rock and folk blues with transient tonal nods to country, pop, psyche and stoner.

The first thing though that hits you about this album however is the unbelievable restraint shown throughout to not swamp the songs with lyrics, instrumentation or verbose affectations. Remarkable, especially when you consider the quality of the musicianship on show and the melodious quality of the vocalist – one Charles Parks. No, here things are stripped back to allow for the essential to shine and the unnecessary to melt away.

Stepping through the doorway and into that initial mellow riff of “Call Me Star”, you are whisked immediately away into All Them Witches’ universe. The tension, the stress melts away and you begin to float. It works as a real statement of intent, forewarning us to expect the unexpected; there are to be no fireworks, no clap of thunder, no desperate need to blast out your ears before they settle. Hewn back to its humble core, it oozes star quality. Sat atop its mellifluous acoustic guitar, the band displays an exquisite touch, gifting the song a lightness and an almost magical quality. Both beguiling and jaw-droppingly beautiful.

The instrumental eight-and-a-half-minute “El Centro” picks the pace up, drowning the listener in a Torche-like melting pot of battering stoner chugs and shifting psychedelic affectations that centres round a two-note riff. Within two tracks they have blown any preconceptions you might have of the band not once but twice. And for the kicker? How about a spot of “Dirt Preachers”? A driving rhythmic build with a grim vocal performance injected with malice and menace and a storming chorus. The viciously slow final section drags up sinister undertones of religious paedophilia by littering the lyrical wordplay with lines like “Come all you children to my arms” and “Twist your fingers, I’ll call you a star”.

Betwixt and between, there is a bluesy lush jam, a half-whispered vocal, a dash of harmonica and a gorgeous acoustic instrumental to wallow in. Venturing down “Open Passageways ” and its pursuing tonal reprise finds ATW managing to morph the goodness of Coldplay’s early naivety with Moby’s “Extreme Ways”. It’s a monster track of acoustic guitar with bowed violin gifting it a folky hue with a sumptuous kick of vocal hook – “Scream and shout and bellow / Chew up your love then swallow”.

Then, as the album draws to a close, the band continues to loosen their belts, resulting in a maddening dropping away of exploratory content. What it does allow them to do, eventually with Monster Magnet hats firmly in place, is jam; to gradually step backwards from the lead to walk beside the listener offering simple chanted echoing incantations and a degree of psychedelic warbling.

The “solitude of the mountain”, as Parks describes it, has indelibly coloured the album, removing it from their harder, faster back catalogue and gifting it a laconic, unforced swagger and a beautifully controlled flow where everything fits with everything else. Having initially been released in late 2015, essentially what you’ve got here is the record everybody missed from their album of the year lists. From here there are no limits.

Also online @ http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/02/all-them-witches-dying-surfer-meets-his-maker-new-west-records/

Album Review: Mars Red Sky – Apex III (Praise For The Burning Soul)

There’s no doubt that Mars Red Sky write music for themselves alone. What other reason would they have for gathering all their eggs into one basket time after time. Each new track seems to come pre-loaded with the same familial qualities – that familial, otherworldly, psychedelic backline, overdriven buzzing bottom end, laconic multi-tracked vocal delivery and crunchy riffwork. However, here on Apex III, they have wrapped it all around a truly alien theme that dines out on a creepy, pervading sense of drama and a thoroughly dark tone.

There’s real tonal value in the amalgamated scene-setting introduction “(alien grounds)” and dark backstory of the title-track but, sitting proudly up top and riding on a single repeating riff that incessantly bores its way into your skull as it does, might irk a few into tuning out right there. I do urge you to persevere past that initial anomaly, however, because the Floydian wash and Hawkwind-esque crush soon envelops as tracks like “The Whinery”, “Mindreader” and “Prodigal Son” will undoubtedly attest to.

“Under The Hood” is the star track with a lush, bluesy underscore that gently sways around the ultra-light vocal arpeggios. There’s a sweet lyrical hook in there that draws you up and out of the misty surrounds – “those emerald eyes of yours” have a lot to answer for. On the flipside, the summery 60s vibe that characterises “Friendly Fires” struggles to make any impact and actually seems to work at odds to the vocal styling. Rather, the multiple-tracking and effects overwhelm and hide the upbeat melody.

Whereas 2014’s Stranded In Arcadia had a nagging inclination for analagous tracks, this takes that quality to a whole new level. Identifying where you are in the sonic wash of colours will require a tracklist to hand and an ability for deep concentration. But perhaps to do so would be missing the point. The tracks are, after all, merely subtle shifts in sound that exist across a single piece of art. Yes, perhaps less dead air and gentler segues might have assisted this thought process. It certainly feels like an album that requires a solitary journey. One of those that will give you a chance to curl up to, shut your eyes and ride on through the storm.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2016/02/mars-red-sky-apex-iii-listenable/

Album Review: Wildlights – S/T

Hailing from Wilmington, North Carolina, here is a story of two buddies, one a drummer from Thunderlip!, one a frontman and guitarist for ASG, never quite being able to make time to write and perform together. Wildlights (formerly known as Crusades) marks the point in time where they have finally been able to join forces. From the sound of this self-titled debut, it’s been worth the wait as they conjure music that marries the sand-blasted desert rock scrawl of the West Coast with the swampy, distorted blues crush of the Deep South.

Imagine if Torche hoovered the uplifting braggadocio and enslaving hooks of Audrey Horne – that’s what this is. It’s emphatically boisterous, effortlessly driving and engagingly addictive. From the opening drumroll and fizzing vocal blast of “Anchors”, it’s a riff-worthy, chorus-led sequence of poppy panache meets hard rocking grunt. There are hints of Arlo’s glossy sheen stumbling their merry way into the multi-tracked vocals of Shi on “Part Of The Sea”. Yet there’s also a darker tone in there that pulls at the inventive crescendos and shading of Baroness’ John Dyer Baizley and the way he pulls out top notes from the most sombre of places.

The slow-quick majesty of the earworm “Snow Song” pulls a choral hook from the heavens themselves. Enigmatically crisp and strangely familiar, it feels like a homecoming – an emotional centre of warmth and hope. It’s a theme that runs throughout the album. There are no true edges here, merely gentle warnings and then reassurance in the soft down of the songwriting.

“Onward Upward” struggles to gain a foothold with its dissolute phrasing, narrow structure and run-time but, to be fair, there are other tracks that could be tagged as equally unadventurous even when they hit the mark. Certainly, the glowing touchstone of “New Year Repeat” corrects any imbalance by building elegiacally to a cosmos-scraping hook and a wonderful arpeggio guitar that trips the light fantastic before plunging to the very depths of the ocean.

Wildlights pull at the loose threads left by others leaving the dark mesh behind them to create effortlessly light, airy, voraciously catchy pieces of driving rock that are an utter joy. Like a meteor traIling fluoresence and fire across a black night’s sky – I urge you to follow.

 Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2015/08/wildlights-st-season-of-mist/

Album Review: Yellowtooth – Crushed By The Wheels Of Progress

For their second stab at a long-player, Indiana’s Yellowtooth have decided to get heavy. With Year Of Desolation’s John Hehman twiddling the knobs, together they’ve produced an eminently raw-sounding recording and with it a whole world of pain. Yep, the proverbial nut gets the full sledgehammer treatment here.

Opening with a cut from a particularly vicious line from the 2003 movie Open Range, Crushed By The Wheels Of Progress sets it’s stall out early with snarling vocals spewing hate-filled lyrics. It all lies beneath a wall of the filthiest riff sludge and butt-clenching drum thunder heard since the murderous crush spewed out by the likes of Crowbar or High On Fire. With its swampy wash, Southern-tinged slowly dying open chords and thrash affectations it’s like listening to the gnarliest of Orange Goblin songs getting tortured into submission by the concrete fists of Snailking or the sonic blitzkrieg of Sepultura.

Having been beaten into a corner by the initial choking swathe of aggression and primitive lyricism, the maddeningly obtuse song construction struggles to extract the listener without walking itself down strange blind alleys. Take “Season’s End”. It contains no end of dropouts, kicks into double-time and oblique switches in key – it’s the aural equivalent of riding a three-legged horse that keeps falling over.

The eight-minute title-track builds up a pretty solid groove with a gritty chorus and digs out a sweet riff to sit alongside it. The guitar scrawl eventually picks up gifting us with a high degree of mania to wedge behind the acid-gargling vocal roar of Peter Clemens. Ramp up the volume on this beast if you want to really piss off those neighbours. Dig in further and they begin to hit a particularly evil streak as they rip into death metal territory with the deliciously dark “Spiral Stairs” inviting the headbangers to the party and the agonisingly base attack of “Before I Return To Dust” pulling the teeth straight from their Bay Area and Brazilian peers.

Yep, I bet they had a ball writing and recording this monstrous album, but sadly the end result isn’t pretty. Cast adrift somewhere between kicking the shit out of the stoner metal fringe and ramming deathly metal down the throats of the bad-ass rock n’ roll brigade, Yellowtooth will struggle to make friends with this. It’s fit to burst with macho angst and is ripped with nasty guitar lines but there’s very little that actually sticks in the memory banks. Yep, that sledgehammer did the trick, but I’m afraid that nut is dust.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2015/08/yellowtooth-crushed-by-the-wheels-of-progress-orchestrated-misery/

Album Review: High On Fire – Luminiferous

One band who undeniably create a weighty wall-of-sound, an earthy noise that explodes from fathoms below the surface, is High On Fire – they never were a band for the faint-hearted. Embedded into the driving whirlwind that is Des Kensel’s colossal drums we find Jeff Matz’s dirty distorted bass tone smashing into the wrecking ball riffs that burst from Matt Pike’s “nine strings of Hell”. Combined it creates kaleidoscopic swathes of fuzz and metal distortion. Yet, it’s not all about swamping brains and busting eardums. Thanks to the standard epic production and mixing from the legendary Kurt Ballou, the voluminous, viscous gloop of a groove is also layered deep enough to retain the band’s true rock n’ roll leanings.

For four straight tracks they strap you beneath the wings of an aircraft, dangling in the heat from the jet engine, billowing in the drag of 60,000 tonnes of thrust. Opener “The Black Plot” powers up their instantly recognisable swathe of rotational vortexes and gutsy, crushing machinations whilst the howling “Carcosa” and “The Sunless Years” both come infused with a warming buzz, oodles of stoner doom grunt, wild resounding solos and are splattered with the thick, gargled vocal that rattles from the scarred lining of Pike’s newly-sober throat. A veritable bag of nails, it laughs in the face of the earth-shaking instrumentation attempting to flatten it.

This time round, happily for those needing a breather after the spiky, speed-demons that are “Slave The Hive” and the title-track, California’s finest have littered the album with little air holes out of which pours energising melodics and sleek, dark portents that wrap themselves round simmering, beautifully-paced growers. Riding upon “The Falconist” you absolutely get the sense of mounting the back of this rising bird of prey, wedged between its beating wings. It douses itself in hints of classic rock and NWOBHM with its simplistic progressions and organic patterns. From the crush of Torche and Crowbar into the loving arms of Iron Maiden yet never leaving the core of their sound far behind. It would be remiss of me here then to not also mention the Monster Magnet-esque psychedelics and echoing, vocal drift that forms “The Cave”. It is the brooding hinge on which this whole album swings. Without it, the album would be bereft of its most interesting flavour.

Having torn into Luminiferous, their seventh long-player, with the same verve and power that they riddled their debut with, it seems almost unfathomable that the band even know how to create a weak or maniacally experimental album. The one thing that they rarely pull from their repertoire, however, and something that is missing here too, is the invention of a brash, repeating lyrical hook, an unforgettable riff or irresistible earworm. Instead, they choose to build their music close to the ground; they were born to do so. It defines them. The need to lay a rock-solid foundation oozes from their pores. As a consequence, the High On Fire label has become a sign of assured quality. Fans will know what to expect, newbies will either move on or absolutely devour its intensity and crave more. Just remember, before you press play… buckle up.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2015/06/high-on-fire-luminiferous-century-media/

Album Review: Colossus – The Breathing World

Frailty within crush – the illusion of impact through dissonance and groove can so quickly be tempered by their integration into a honeycombed network of progressive, exploratory structures. What you end up with is the aural equivalent of a wire brush – thick, harsh lines that mesh to form a shape with more space than solid.

One band that falls into this category are Colossus. Striking moniker, striking sound. Labelling themselves as post-sludge, this Swedish trio have their emphasis very much on the former syllable rather than the latter. In all honesty, there is much more stoner drift in their music than they are willing to admit to. The Breathing World carries on from where their debut, Wake, left off and “follows the protagonist’s crooked journey to clarity in a surreal and mysterious but deeply human world.” Their words, not mine.

It’s actually an album that wobbles, rather than strides, into existence with ‘Yehi Aour / Wanderers’ featuring deep, maudlin guitars, jarringly mirrored by a towering vocal monotone. It soon gathers pace and strength of purpose though, becoming the proverbial rolling stone, shedding moss by the bucketload.

Niklas Eriksson’s vocal has most certainly flourished since Wake and is further assisted here by Tom van Heesch’s (Rammstein, Michael Monroe) meatier production. There is an exciting variation of tone here, and Eriksson experiments by doubling up on the vocals and pulling back from his characteristic top end to explore his full range. At full stretch, when he clutches at his upper register, his delivery does become strained but, conversely, it also provides that unique focal point that separates the band’s sound from the masses.

From ‘Darkling Root’ we are pushed further down their rabbit-hole as the pace rises to become a forceful groove, peaking with the addictive hook that marks out ‘Plumed Serpent’ and the furious cries for “Lib-er-ation!”. Here, they begin to pick up elements of Torche, early-Baroness and little riff affectations that mirror monsters like those of Mastodon and Pelican. They also begin to reveal a certain penchant for subtle post-rock exploration.

The softer souls of ‘Virgin’s Milk’ and ‘The Silent City’, in particular, are riddled with emotion as Eriksson dips down to a whisper to pull out tunes that dig their nails beneath the skin. Elsewhere, the dissolute structure that houses the rich, psychedelic pull of ‘Fuga Mundi’ stands in direct contrast to the uninhibited, roaring waves and menacing undercurrent of ‘Whetstone’.

Fans will inevitably love The Breathing World for its esoteric edge, whilst the less tolerant will struggle to accept such histrionics and yearn for more of their famously empowering groove. Colossus have some way to go to find an easy balance between that frailty and crush. What isn’t in doubt is the fact that this next phase in their development is a bold step up from their debut. Its a magnificently diverse, gloriously colourful, forward-facing, wildly introspective album.

Also online @ HBIH = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2015/03/27/colossus-the-breathing-world/

Album Review: The Midnight Ghost Train – Cold Was The Ground

Where visual art can announce itself as everything from an explosion of different shapes, dimensions and hues or restrict itself to the most minimalist, one-dimensional, single-colour blocks, music can do much the same. This particular beard-toting Kansas trio find themselves at the latter end, pumping out an unfaltering combination of muffled fuzz bass and sludgy, rhythmic chugging. Essentially, they have taken what bands like Orange Goblin, Red Fang and Clutch have done before and refined it to something a little less expansive and a darn sight more punishing.

Cold Was The Ground marks their third foray into long-players and this one thunders along a similar path as its predecessors, crashing in on the listener as wave upon wave of sonic obliteration. Underpinning this dark, suffocating powerhouse of noisome groove, the smatterings of swampy delta blues, gnarly rock n’ roll and virulent stoner metal lie.

Gently ushering itself in with a warping, one-note crescendo, the introductory ‘Along The Chasm‘ suddenly kicks us into the hammering, rhythmic, mile-deep rut where The Midnight Ghost Train demand we remain for the majority of the album’s running time. As we speed on through tracks like the attack-and-release, riff-repeats of ‘Gladstone‘, the chilled-out Monster Magnet-esque drift and rapid wah-wah pedal pneumatics of instrumental ‘One Last Shelter‘ and the dull battery of ‘No. 227‘ we alight on the heart of the album where the band begin to find their soul.

There’s the ripped choral lick on ‘BC Trucker’, thick, dirty and moreishly addictive and ‘Arvonia‘ with its Fu Manchu wall of fuzz and dark, brooding undertones so reminiscent of All Hail The Yeti. Deeper in and there’s the sinister backwoods edge of ‘The Canfield’, the no-frills swagger and bluesy grunt of ‘Straight To The North‘ and creepy, energized panic that so engenders ‘Twin Souls‘. None of these though can compare to the simple, tender luminosity of ‘The Little Sparrow‘. It is the first true glimpse of what lies beneath the bluster – heartfelt emotion. In this case, that emotion is fear. Pure, cold sweat-inducing, neurotic fear.

Undoubtedly, there is a good helping of monotonous, atonal filler here and an infuriating paucity of texture or flavour in a scene so dependent upon small deviations in delivery. However, there is also a more subtle connection to the sordid underbelly that lurks beneath the glossy veneer of so much modern music. Here, you can taste the blood, sweat and tears.

Maybe, if Cold Was The Ground was a painting it would be a Rothko – probably one from his Black-Form series. And like Rothko’s minimalist art, it will have its admirers.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2015/03/18/the-midnight-ghost-train-cold-was-the-ground/

Album Review: Craang – To The Estimated Size Of The Universe

Ah, the joys of coming across the onomatopoeic band-name. To all intents and purposes, Craang sounds like their moniker suggests they should. The sudden resonant “craaannng” of strings reverberating through a mass of distortion. Actual metal on metal action. Oddly enough, as a heavy band capable of dredging up some powerful emotions, Craang are reminiscent of another onomatopoeic band, Kongh. Despite their blacker outlook and doomier “kooooonnngh” those Swedes definitely share a love for a good wall-of-sound and pounding repetition with this impressive Greek trio.


As a debut album, quite frankly TTESOTU is astounding. There have been plenty of releases of late riding the retro gravy train but this four-track concoction of space, stoner and psych is quite unlike anything that has come before. Yes, some of its content may bear a passing resemblance to Hawkwind, Zappa or Pink Floyd but it actually draws strength from far more contemporary sounds than these. Take “Butterfly” for example. It digs out the kind of sick, splattering riff that Fu Manchu or Orange Goblin might have conjured and rides it until it sinks so far into your consciousness that you cease to notice it any more. You can feel your own pulse begin to syncopate, realigning itself with the music to create a new cadence for you to live by. Not only this, but the cyclical lyric “hold your breath” [or "breasts" as it beings to sound after one to many t̶o̶k̶e̶s̶  rotations] will follow you to your grave. All this, and still the music remains utterly uplifting, infectiously introspective and emotionally exacting.

Throughout, you’ll pick up on the slow, steady development taking place in the layers beyond the drone fuzz brushstrokes. Forever shifting, the picture morphs before your eyes, as much as the album’s stunning artwork suggests it might. Perhaps it’s the warm production, maybe it’s the fact that as a three-piece the sound is spartan rather than busy, or perhaps it’s the little effervescent qualities that shine through, but all I know is that “Magnolia” plays like an absolute dream. You really do feel a certain sense of having been removed from space and time as you go drifting off into the cosmos-stretching sonic wonderland that Craang have created here.

One criticism one might throw in their direction is that they have a tendency to wallow towards repetition a little too easily. Consequently, all the songs bear a passing resemblance to one another – “Slo Forward Jam” plays like an instrumental build to the majesty of its neighbour, whilst the lengthy jam, “The Meteorian”, essentially drives off the same rhythmic pattern that “Magnolia” sets up. What this latter track does sport is some effortlessly affecting dreampop lyrics and an immense section of synth that lifts the whole piece into something incredibly cinematic in feel. You might also catch the strains of a flying saucer coming in to land as they wind up the warble effect to Biblical proportions. The truth is out there, apparently.

There is definitely no hiding from the enigmatic joy, passion and crushing presence that this album carries. The whole is weighty yet the tone remains light as a feather. Quite where they go from this mountaintop remains to be seen, but the safest bet on the planet would be an immediate invite to Roadburn, ProgPower or Desertfest.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2014/10/16/craang-to-the-estimated-size-of-the-universe/

Album Review: The Great Sabatini – Dog Years

Spend any time listening to The Great Sabatini and you’ll realise that this Montreal-based quartet aren’t a one-trick pony. Their fans must all come hard-wired to embrace change since, like a kid on jungle juice, their music never settles. One minute they’ll be locked into spewing forth melancholic post-hardcore to an elephantine drumbeat, the next they will be weaving sludgy riffs around hammering, avant-garde thrash.

The fact that Dog Years represents yet another tweak to their musical direction should therefore come as no surprise. In their own words… “This one is a rare instance in which we quit screaming like we had our balls in a vice long enough to try singing like we had our balls in a vice. Not really willing to go all the way clean with it, but it was a slightly different approach.”

The album (that’d be the one sporting the satanic Muppet on the front) opens at breakneck pace with a volley of disembodied, cathartic howls piling into a series of chugging, jagged rhythms. All first four tracks attack with a conviction and power that will both alarm and disarm. In those 9 short minutes, these Sabatini boys manage to find room for both doom-ridden swagger and speed-hungry insanity. Then, with a cursory flick of the wrist they sweep all that aside, eliminate the throat-scouring vocals and throw in the melodious and mind-bending Torche-esque stoned groove of “Reach” and an acoustic, steel-stringed slice of evocative Americana with “Akela”.

By keeping the production raw, they retain a sense of the chaotic, hastily-assembled magic that only a band on the edge can produce. The little hits of feedback and splattering dissonance seal the deal. King of the lot for atmosphere is the crushing menace of “Pitchfork Pete”. Perhaps it’s the gaggle of ritual chanting that does it but somewhere in here they manage to reproduce the kind of manic fervour that only a lynchmob could possess.

Yes, it’s scattergun and, yes, it may not be the easiest thing to sink your teeth into but The Great Sabatini simply aren’t afraid to venture down paths less-travelled and, by god, that’s a rare and heroic thing for a band to do.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/06/the-great-sabatini-dog-years-solar-flare-records/

Album Review: Mars Red Sky - Stranded In Arcadia

The "psychedelic stoner rock" description that this Bordelais trio have imposed upon themselves does little to actually describe their lightness of touch or just how inventive their songwriting can be.

Soon to be released in the US (Europe had it back in April), Stranded In Arcadia contains tracks that sound like they've simply drifted in from the desert with deeply stylized, sultry vocals that place you in amongst the buzzing swarm of rich, tripped-out instruments competing for space. The majority of songs here reside within the stoned triangle of Kylesa, Fu Manchu and Band Of Skulls as the band seek to draw inspiration from everything in between and beyond.

From the off, there are big hits of Kyuss and Electric Wizard as "The Light Beyond" sets off pumping out a voluminous, elephantine bassline supplemented by floor-shaking fuzz and wailing vocals. Very quickly you'll hit the volley of catchy choruses and cutting vocal hooks like those that punch forth powerfully from "Hovering Satellites", "Holy Mondays" and "Join The Race".

Do look out for the sharp, bluesy groover "Circles". It's a unique track that goads the sweet dual vocal of Julien Praz and Jimmy Kinast into suddenly mimicking duos like those that appeared in The Animals or 60s-afficionados Arlo. The end result is unbelievably rich in colour, insistently introspective and comes complete with a mile-deep groove and a timeless, sun-kissed vibe. Elsewhere, there is an abundance of warbling pedal effects, "Arcadia" and "Beyond The Light", and glitching electronic techniques employed, most probably in what would have been an intensive session of post-production. These are the tracks that reveal the most about the band's intentions. They are clearly invitations to release your shackles and travel as far along their emotional journey as you dare.

There is an elegant simplicity to so many of these structures. The cosmos-stretching cursive sections and the repeating motif certainly allow the listener to fully explore the variety of spaces into which they are thrown. To that end, there are those who may find the music to be a little too repetitious, unnecessarily twee or, at worst, agonisingly self-indulgent (the stomping "Seen A Ghost" is a particularly tiresome prospect), but persevere and there is far more to marvel than to sneer at. It is certainly the case that those who drink deepest will undoubtedly feel the soothing qualities of this one part-doom, two parts-psych soup best of all.

Also online @ Scratch The Surface = http://www.scratchthesurface-webzine.com/2014/06/mars-red-sky-stranded-in-arcadia-review.html

Album Review: Drawers – Drawers

Toulouse’s Drawers started life as a half-hearted side project but that all changed quickly when they started making a real, valid impact. The possibilities that lay in fully realising their latent potential was very rapidly grabbed with all ten of their mitts.

As a result, they have promised to play anywhere, anytime and this self-titled sophomore comes hot on the heels of 2012′s suffocating, explosive debut. All Is One was an album that Ave Noctum described as “smothering” “grumbling” and even “spasming”, so their subtle shift into performing distortion-bothering groove metal is slightly surprising. Don’t fret though, they’re still flinging sludge at each other but now they’re hitting their listeners with it. You could say they are less scattergun by design.

By recording live the band have retained a rough quality to their sound that sets them apart from over-tweaked groove bands like say Devildriver or Chimaira. With the distortion wound up on the guitars to CRUSH setting, any melody does tend to get trampled down a bit but listen carefully and you will catch snatches of it. The vocal also has to go big to rise above the rumble but Niko Bastide’s gravel-gargling throat is well up to the task, fending off the gruff, sludge-packing strings as he goes. The end result of all this bickering really doesn’t leave much room for maneuvre so the songwriting has to be tight.

Strong hits of High On Fire-esque apoplectic stoner burst through early on with tracks like “Once And For All” and the monotonous “It’s All About Love” powering through the simplistic riff construction as the band attempt to break eardrums. There’s little slacking off, but the threads and shreds of early-era Baroness begin to sneak through as progression is made. The swaggering “Bleak” and “Take Stock” are fine examples of this, even if you’ll still find yourself craving another emotion besides anger.

The following “Shadow Dancers” sees the band opening out even further and allowing the listener to sink deeper into the groove as a little more light is let in. It’s a trick that they picked up from their debut and, in both cases, I’ve wanted to flip the tracklisting on its head or scream at them to stick with this pattern for longer – curse the songwriter(s) who stopped scribbling after half an hour. No matter. By “Words” they’ve absolutely nailed the balance and the deep throbbing attack and intense focus is menacing, yet beguiling, and utterly headbang-worthy.

Greater attack does mean far less exploration or diversity and that is a shame. However, on the plus side, their straight-up homage to NOLA-dwelling stoner has all but gone so this definitely feels more like a Drawers album than their debut ever did. It’s short and sweet (too short), but they certainly sound like they’re having fun even though they clearly mean business. To this end, I think we can ignore those gurning faces on the cover and revel in the knowledge that these Frenchmen are now headed in the right direction.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/04/drawers-drawers-kaotoxin/

Album Review: Purplehaze Ensemble – S/T

What’s in a name? Take PurpleHaze Ensemble’s moniker for instance. You’d imagine this Polish quartet to be a Jimi Hendrix covers band who, before each gig, spun a coin to see which band member would get to set fire to his guitar that night. Either that or to be a room full of potheads trading heavy-lidded musings on why Weetabix tastes “like sandpaper, ma-a-a-n”. Of course, they are actually a lot more interesting than the former and a hell of a lot more compos mentis than the latter.

Interestingly, they seem to sit at the centre of a musical crossroads, where the x-axis of grunge and stoner hits the y-axis of progressive metal and ambient rock. One minute they rage like Down, with vocalist Macias screeching like Phil Anselmo would after necking a bottle of bleach, the next they are conjuring up the head-down grunge of a Soundgarden or an Alice In Chains. Head deeper into the disc and you’ll discover that they are even capable of sucking up the progressive, experimental nectar from bands like Tool or Palms.

Starting out as just plain old PurpleHaze, a band focused on dispensing a solid dose of stoner rock, they recently switched drummers and employed synth player, Bemben, who was able to add a new dimension to their music by integrating an atmospheric layer of keys and samples underneath.

Interestingly by paying homage to the “old ways” of recording, they whipped this version up in one-take at at Red Shift Studio in Cracow. Only the vocals and synths were added afterwards – it has certainly made for an album with a vital energy and an almost edgy quality to it. On the downside, that mix has produced rough patches where the instruments don’t quite marry together. In particular, the harsh tones of the guitar leap out at the listener when the rest of the band is raging, but happily it comes back into its own when the power levels drop and the waves calm.

The dissonant fizz of the driving opener “Siren’s Song” is certainly a nasty wake-up slap with Macias at full roar and firing out crunch and sludge in equal measure. The oddly-rambling nature of “Haunt The Freak” instead finds an echoing, psychedelic series of Bombay Monkey-esque samples to lounge in before the dial is cack-handedly wound up and our first taste of their grunge leanings hove into view.

By “Could I” (a nod to Alice In Chains’ “Would I”, perhaps?) they’ve settled down into the session and the track’s natural structure gives us a true taste of their innate knack for songwriting. A gentle build with warping synth soon breaks into a stone-cold groove. Here, Macias uses the rhythmic swagger to impart a chilled blue tone into his vocal. Serving him well, he craftily weaves it around the chords in patterns, throwing neat lyrical twin hooks into the verses – “Spiders on my face / Snakes inside my face”. Running at nearly eight minutes in length, you still wouldn’t say it overstays its welcome.

Ramping up the atmospherics, “Kickin’ Curbs With A Thin Stick” and “Cross” offer up sub-level bass and the warping environs of Deftones-esque lush-to-crush experimentation. The former ends with a section where the strings drop out to leave just the synth roaming from the left ear to the right like a lost bee buzzing around inside our skulls. One to avoid is the mathy “Lie Is The Answer” which punches low as the vocalist trades restraint for over-commitment to the cause. Resplendent at it’s heart, the remainder is just too loud and too loose to really make any impact.

The band’s willingness to trade between grit and power and colour-streaked, ambient washes means that there is never a dull moment at any point in this self-titled debut. Most certainly, there is room for manoeuvre and not everything meshes together quite as you’d expect it to, but there is more than enough quality within to warrant further investigation – there aren’t all that many albums out there with this much variety on display. PHE have certainly shown that they have the courage to push things to the next level and that bodes well for their future. With an extra layer of lacquer applied to the production next time out, they might just yet surprise us all. Now, whose turn is it with Jimi’s big box of matches?

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/02/purplehaze-ensemble-st-unquiet/

EP Review: Colossus Of Destiny – In Lesser Brightness

Who fancies a nice, big, juicy steak?

If you’ve got your hand up then allow me to point you in the direction of Colossus Of Destiny. With a band-name that comes from a Melvins’ live album and being bona fide fans of the Relapse roster, it’s no surprise to discover that this Parisian quintet are all about the meat. With velvety-rich production, beefy drumming, fat strings and a chomping vocal attack that hits like a bloody mallet, In Lesser Brightness is a T-Rex T-Bone of a record.

It’s a beast that digs in early and signs off in style. Opening the six-track EP up with “Dismay In Empty Eyes” and its crashing wave effects, sonorous riffs and cascading toms, they cleverly strip their attack back only to build it all back up again. As a multi-part behemoth, it’s hugely reminiscent of Steak Number Eight’s progressive thunder. It is the ultimate statement of intent. Closing proceedings, the lurking melodics of the title-track and its chaotic brother, “Naked & Unbound”, are similarly brave in structure. Here, the band tug at antagonistic threads that shine a spotlight on Jérémy Le Formal’s drumming as he drives the staggering motion ever onward when it seems the songs may implode.

Conversely, their shorter tracks, like “Unleashed” and “Get Lost”, seem determined to blindly batter away with the guitars ripping out some fairly hefty sludge metal, taking them tramping down the same paths as bands like Bison B.C. and High On Fire. Deep in the mix, Guillaume Taliercio’s bass still displays a magnificent wanderlust whilst vocalist Adrien Guilmoteau has a crack at tearing off a slice of that Matt Pike snarl. Here in the record’s mid-riff the tracks lose some of their individuality as their fleshier parts tend to bleed into each other which is a shame.

A future album release should help nail down whether their intentions are to favour pace and power over a softer, more experimental touch. That opening track here suggests they do, indeed, have the songwriting nous to help them, should they so wish, build up an exciting, expansive style. Whichever way they go, it’s clear you’re going to have to bring a big plate and a sharp knife if you want to dine at Colossus of Destiny’s table.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2014/01/colossus-of-destiny-in-lesser-brightness-hellbound-records/

Album Review: Phantom Glue – A War Of Light Cones

Kurt Ballou gets around. When he’s not blazing a trail with Converge, he’s hunkered down in his own studio at God City, working the sound-desk for various noise-making machines who’ve all requested his producing expertise. This is where he could be found during the months of April and August 2011, twiddling the knobs for Boston, MA’s Phantom Glue. The result of those sessions has taken two whole years to see the light of day, but now Black Market Activities have stepped in to save A War Of Light Cones from staying buried from view.


Phantom Glue are a band who, very much like the now defunct These Arms Are Snakes, sound like two different forces welded together. One half is pure punk — all fast snarling bile and sharp bites of anguish. The other is a heavy-lidded twin guitar stoner — all loping chugs with evocative, interlocking riffery laid over the top. On top of this, there is something darker tucked away in the music and lyrics. It’s interesting to note then, that vocalist/guitarist Matt Oakes describes this edgy album as “a nightmare/occult alternate history of Colonial America”. Here, there is very much the sense of a band wanting to have their cake and eat it.

When they are not battering you with violent crushers like the fiery opener ‘Perils’ or the ear-damaging, High On Fire-esque rip ‘Bow In The Dust’, they are seeking out an effervescent top-end to stir things up. This latter styling brings them more into line with the kind of thrilling post-rock-cum-sludge material that Steak Number Eight and Mastodon are keen on putting out there. ‘Biocult’, for instance, spends less time bawling at you and languishes longer in the musical combination of bubbling top-end bass and deep, sludge-flinging stringwork. When it does shift, it is into a dynamic, cleaner phase that does feel a little tacked on. One track that follows this and the more-driven ‘Arboreal‘ to a fine conclusion is ‘Test Pattern’. It’s a song which wastes no time digging out a sloth-like groove onto which is built a network of memorable riffs. In these lighter places, they seem happiest; free enough to throw in clean-heeled arpeggios and solos to their hearts content.

Having been left rotting on the backburner for all this time, you’d imagine the band to be a bit more generous, but they still only seem willing to stretch themselves to 6 tracks and 28 minutes. That’s a pretty paltry return when parts of what is here simply passes you by. It’s also true that, in those two years they have spent trying to secure that label release, various riff-loving scaremongers have stepped forward with fine albums – bands like Black Cobra, Burning Love and High On Fire (all Ballou’s other projects) and others like Steak Number Eight, Saviours and Family (US, not UK). The void that was there, following These Arms Are Snakes (and, to an extent, Isis‘) sad demise, has now well and truly been filled. Now, it all feels a little crowded in this space and Phantom Glue’s somewhat muddled second album is going to struggle for air amongst some of those monster releases.

Also online @ Heavy Blog Is Heavy = http://www.heavyblogisheavy.com/2013/07/16/phantom-glue-a-war-of-light-cones/#more-42189

Album Review: Goatess – Goatess

With a cover reminiscent of something out of Hellboy, Goatess’ self-titled debut certainly stands out. Titled The Birth Of Pan it features what looks like an unborn faun in the womb; strangely beautiful and pretty hard to ignore. What lurks within is similarly tough to forget.

Stockholm’s Goatess set their stall out splitting their efforts between throwing out weighty Sabbathian doom and gloom, driving, sludge-packed rock and exploding, cosmic psychedelia that threatens true enlightenment. If you recognise the hauntingly melancholic, resonant vocal and are thinking it might be Ozzy Osbourne himself (“I never say die-e-e!”), you’d be understandably mistaken. It belongs to none other than cult vocalist Chritus Linderson (Lord Vicar, ex-Count Raven, ex-Saint Vitus). Originally named Weekend Beast, the band was born of Chritus and guitarist Niklas’ desire to play less-structured doom metal; something with atmosphere centred around their worship of the heavy riff.

Opener “Know Your Animal” turns out to be an excellent diversion from their stock material, coming through a lot cleaner and feistier than it’s mucky brethren. The overdrive does kick in for the chorus, but compared to the blues-soaked stomp of “Alpha Omega” it’s full of positivity and life. From here its a slow descent into the sludge pit where the Sleep-esque rotational, trance-inducing single-chord plod rules all. The 10-minute “King One” is the finest of these dissonant soul-suckers, finding numerous ways to re-ignite the joys in mastering the lengthy one-riff song. If the ear-to-ear phase doesn’t do it for you, it could be the game-changing dropout, the tweaks toward Soundgarden-like grunge, the trilling top-end or the heavy use of the drum fill, but most likely it’ll be the sum of those parts. Basically it’s got all the things that “Ripe” and “Oracle, Part 2″ haven’t.

Inside this network of repetitive bludgeoning, there lies the axis point of the album. It lurks in the middle of the startlingly experimental “Full Moon At Noon”. The dominant, forceful riffing and sudden crisp, loud breaks suddenly give way and the track collapses into swathes of mind-expanding experimentalism. It continues on through “Oracle, Part 1″ and the incredible “Tentacles Of Zen”. This 12-minute denouement features eye-opening sound clips from a scene from the 1976 BBC dramatisation of I, Claudius where Mnester (Nicholas Amer) theatrically suggests that Messalina (Sheila White) take part in a tournament of sex. His lascivious imagining of “copulation on a cosmic scale” provides the perfect introduction for the mesmeric sonic orgy that follows – be sure to have your bong at the ready for the magnificent section of tribal drums and ethnic strings.

Goatess’ constant shape-shifting, some might say unbalanced, sound is a feature that crops up quite a lot. Whether it is an effect they wanted during recording or is merely an unintentional post-production anomaly is unclear, but it certainly adds to the overall disorientating effect. Svart Records are building up quite a special roster of bands right now and these mind-bending Swedes have slotted in like a charm.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/07/goatess-goatess-svart-records/

Album Review: High On Fire – Spitting Fire Live, Vols. 1 + 2

As a band that relies on their music might alone, Oakland, CA’s own force of nature, High On Fire, have to be one of the most entertaining live trios out there. There’s no gimmicky crowd interaction, fancy lighting rigs or schmaltzy backdrops with this lot; it’s just a blizzard of hissing, crushing metal; a sonic typhoon that hits with enough force to flatten any and all sizes of crowd. If you haven’t been lucky to feel that cacophonous wall-of-sound yet, then the aptly named Spitting Fire Live is your chance to stand up, grab hold of your vitals and feel its impact.

Recorded over two nights it contains concert performances from their New York City and Brooklyn shows at the end of last year. There are 15 tracks to delve into, a solid mixture with all albums featuring, and it would be petty to lament the omission of stonking fan-favourites like “Silver Back”, the title-track from Death Is This Communion or “Bastard Samurai”. What you do get is four songs from last year’s De Vermis Mysteriis, three of them littering Volume 1, and three consecutive songs from 2007′s Death Is This Communion opening Volume 2. This leaves enough room for the big-hitters, “Frost Hammer” and the title-track, from 2010′s Snakes For The Divine to do the most damage.

One thing to consider, as with many live recordings, is the sound quality. Here, Kurt Ballou and Greg Wilkinson have done their best, but it is still a little too distorted with the vocal hollow and the strings muffled. To some degree, of course, this suits the band’s style and it is consistent, with a nice balance presented across the two sets. Where applicable, the cotton-wool crowd noise has been clipped and kept to a minimum which, considering the shortage of stage interaction, presents a bit of a problem, leaving you struggling at times to feel a part of the show. On the plus side, High On Fire’s notorious full-bodied wallop comes across with enough dynamic range for each part – bass, drums, vocals and Matt Pike’s almighty custom 9-string Lola – to be heard as separate components.

Our frontman, unsurprisingly, utters little beyond the odd song introduction (we do get an incendiary “Let’s whip things up here” and an appreciative but seemingly rhetorical “Alright, New York? It’s good to be out here!”), so instead we just get a barrel of feedback and a whole world of pain. With little distractions, you will simply glory in the pounding throb and vocal squall (perfect mosh material) of “Frost Hammer”, the hammering kick pedal and gritty churn of the punked-up “Devilution” and the glorious tumbling triplet that powers the noise-maker “Fury Whip”. In between these speeding goliaths of sludge metal there’s the stoner comedown; the neck-snapping swagger of “10,000 Nights” and “DII” – both tracks where Jeff Matz’ twanged bass comes to the fore like bubbles of oxygen in the vast lakes of mud-slicked distortion.

The mesmeric duo, “Madness Of An Architect” and “Face Of Oblivion”, played one after the other, present the blitzed-out brain of High On Fire. The howling, cosmic chug that will get your synapses snapping like trapped wasps in a jar. Naturally, in Pike, they have the perfect frontman to drag you back to Earth and his stunning guitar solos (particularly his incredible part-mnemonic, part-vibrato effort that lurks in “Fertile Green”) and his enigmatic riff that powers the band’s finishing flourish, “Snakes For The Divine”, demand your full attention.

All told, the sound quality, though bearable, may put you off. Ardent fans of the band will still lap this up; others may want to tune in first. Either way, the music is as badass as ever – seriously scary, force of nature stuff. Earthquake, volcano, tornado, tsunami, High On Fire, quicksand. I believe that’s the order.

Also online @ Ave Noctum = http://www.avenoctum.com/2013/07/high-on-fire-spitting-fire-live-century-media/