Last month, I covered a demo tape from an excellent raw black metal band known as Blut Der Nacht. Not long after, I was contacted by Mike, the owner of BDN’s label, Fallen Empire Records. Mike told me that BDN also had a couple of side projects up their sleeves that he was planning on releasing. Needless to say, I was eager to hear what else these musicians were capable of, so I waited patiently for any scrap of information regarding these projects.
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I first became aware of Pallbearer after hearing singer/guitarist Brett Campbell’s stunning guest vocal turn on Loss’ Despond. I quickly discovered that there was quite a buzz surrounding the Arkansas-bred quartet, based on the strength of a three song demo (which is available as a free download on the band’s bandcamp page), not to mention the fact that they too had signed with the mighty Profound Lore. But as fond as I was of Mr. Campbell’s contribution to Despond, I decided to steer clear of said buzz, purposefully not listening to the demo or any preview tracks prior to hearing Sorrow and Extinction in full. You see, in this day and age, bands rarely live up to their hype, and I feared that if I gave in to the buzz, I’d only be setting myself up for disappointment when I finally had the album in hand. Read more »
I’ve always been fascinated by power trios. It surely has something to do with my love of all things raw and stripped down, since it doesn’t get any more stripped down than tres hombres against the world, brandishing only electric instruments and bad attitudes. The power trio is the bare minimum of musicians needed to produce a full and complete sound within a rock or metal format (although I’m sure there are plenty of duos who would beg to differ… eh, fuck ‘em); it’s all about maximizing the minimal, and I’ve often found that power trios are inherently heavier and more powerful-sounding than these bands that feel the need to have three guitarists, two vocalists, four drummers, a percussionist, a keyboardist, a DJ, an acrobat, a lion tamer, etc… just listen to Motorhead, Venom, High on Fire or Hellhammer and you’ll catch my drift.
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Eyehategod has long been one of my absolute favorite bands, yet thanks to living in the asshole of the Midwest for all of my natural life (six months in California doesn’t count), I’ve never had the chance to experience their down-tuned Sabbath-ian scuzz-sludge live. Luckily, the band released their first ever live DVD (simply titled Live) late last year, and I think I can safely say it’s the next best thing witnessing the crawling chaos that is Eyehategod in person.
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The world needs real rock ‘n’ roll more than ever. Have you listened to the radio lately? Go on then, have a listen to some of the limp-wristed, candy-assed, sub-Nickelback horseshit that passes for mainstream rock music lately and you’ll hear what I’m talking about, a bunch of preening jackasses who look like they stepped out of the pages of the Abercrombie & Fuckface catalogue, playing songs about having sex with sluts, drinking, doing drugs and having sex with more sluts. And I don’t mean that in a filthy/sleazy/awesome Venom or Motorhead way either. I mean it in a soulless, sac-less, nauseating, pristinely produced and utterly contrived faux-grunge frat-rock way, replete with vocals that sound like a cross between Eddie Vedder and a goat with a cob up its ass. Yes folks, we need real rock ‘n’ roll more than ever.
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Last year, much was made of so-called “Cascadian black metal.” To me, this was nothing more than an attempt to label a regional sound that didn’t exist and in the process lump a bunch of bands together that had very little in common. Invisible Oranges declared it “bullshit,” while an article in the Guardian stated that “cascadian metal” was a good descriptor for Krallice, apparently not aware that the term refers to Washington’s Cascade Range; Krallice hails from Brooklyn, NY which is on the other side of the country (a rock “journalist not doing their homework?! Hard to believe, I know. Insert eye-roll). No one seemed to have a good grasp of what exactly Cascadian black metal was, but that didn’t stop them from invoking the term ad nauseam to serve their own needs. A harmless geographical descriptor got twisted into utter nonsense by the metal media, and even the non metal media got in on the act.
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There’s something that’s flat-out wrong about Xibalba’s Demo 2010. It’s a queasy, warped atmosphere that sounds like the product of fried ‘n’ frazzled minds bending the black metal paradigm to their twisted collective will, whilst in the throes of a hallucinogen-fueled trip to Mictlan. The result is some very bizarre music, a metallic apocalypse that starts with a boombox playing a half-melted cassette copy of A Blaze in the Northern Sky at half speed while projectile vomiting peyote out of its speakers.
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The recent resurgence of cassette culture within the US black metal underground (and elsewhere) seems to be foreshadowing a paradigm shift within the scene; perhaps it is the beginning of the death knell of “heavy metal inc” and a return to the DIY ethics that underground metal was built on. Unfortunately it is impossible to go back to having to put real effort into discovering new music in “the age of blogspot”, but a slew of bands and labels appear genuinely committed to taking the underground back underground, out of the hands of industry slime-balls, self-absorbed mercenary “journalists” and sloganeering try-hards, putting it back in the hands of those that matter, the truly dedicated artists and fans themselves.
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The music of Bloomington, Indiana’s Racebannon falls somewhere between the demented sludge metal of the Melvins and the lurching, discordant pig-fuck of the Jesus Lizard, as if those two bands got together to do a fuckload of coke and orchestrate the ultimate noise rock jam session, but ended up getting slaughtered in a standoff with DEA agents while their rehearsal space burned to the ground. Their latest album, Six Sik Sisters, is a truly unsettling listen, a chronicle of monumental musical depravity that sounds like it could come unglued at any given moment.
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In a recent conversation about music, my wife pointed out that I tend to gravitate towards stuff that is very raw and simplistic. I believe “garagey” was the term she used. She’s absolutely right. I guess this has long been the case, but I had never really thought about it consciously until she brought it up. I mean, I’ve certainly done my fair share of writing and espousing the virtues of raw, primitive music, but I never really considered just how much my listening preferences are dominated by these characteristics.
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