Doom? Doom.
Heavy? Heavy.
Evil? Evil.
Electric Wizard. Black Mass. From the LP Black Masses.
Happy Sunday, kids. Here’s Satan.
Doom Metal
All posts tagged Doom Metal
I thought that I had finally shaken free from the grip in which the mysterious Uncle Acid and his Deadbeats had held me. After being initiated into his satanic cult of Blood Lust and the rituals of frenzy that it had inspired, I’d spent the past few months under observation and recovery. The winds no longer spoke his name, and I no longer felt his psychic pull on my will.
But then, his silence was broken. First, a taste of things to come appeared in the form of a “Poison Apple.” Then, a full communiqué. It was with some trepidation that I approached the missive from Uncle. After I cracked it open, the old feelings were back again. Uncle Acid was calling out for lost family to return to the fold and take a trip with him out into the desert. Seems something…bloody went down earlier, and he needs to rebuild his army of followers for these Final Days.
This is what it sounds like when the psychedelia turns ugly, children. Sure, Blood Lust was a mind-melting freakout of throbbing, pulsing LSD visions translated into music via the influence of mid-‘60s garage punk, the Jesus & Mary Chain, Hammer flicks, Neil Young and Black Sabbath. But this is what happens when STP creeps into the scene and everyone decides to move out to Spahn Ranch with this guy who claims he’s Jesus and the Devil. Likes the White Album a lot.
Opener “Mt. Abraxas” is a hint of the swirling colors of darkness you’ll find at the bottom as you descend into the album’s sonic swamp. At just over seven minutes, it creepy-crawls its way into your mind much like Blood Lust’s “Curse in the Trees” with a few added hints of Dinosaur, Jr.-esque melancholy, before taking some strategic time changes that shift into overdrive and back into slow-motion menace. “Mind Crawler” picks things up with a churning garage riff (and what sounds like an “I Wanna Be Your Dog” single piano key solo through the song’s length). After the hooks of “Poison Apple” pull you through its much-too-short length, the doomy psych of the opening track is revisited in “Desert Ceremony,” another reference to our unwashed pals at the Ranch. Its superficial diabolicism masks a gentle beauty which comes to the forefront as it winds down to a lovely end. We’re taken back into a realm of insanely catchy riffs with “Evil Love,” which shouts its rawk’n’roll power from the rooftops through an incessant drive and speed-fueled purpose.
The second half of the album—which (like the second half of Black Flag’s My War) is composed of longer tracks that stretch out to deliver their strengths—starts with “Death Valley Blues,” which ebbs and flows along like listening to Revolver through a haze of hash and waiting for the acid to kick in, while the paranoia keeps manifesting in the chorus. The hallucinatory power really starts to take effect on “Follow the Leader” with its droning electric guitar-and-bass churn over gently played Eastern-influenced acoustic guitar. “Valley of the Dolls” continues to amp up the evil as a minor-key mellotron is added to the mix while the track lurches along like Vol. 4 Sabbath on a mission to kill. Meanwhile a George Harrison-esque lead break ties us back once again to our “Helter Skelter” fans out at the Ranch. “Devil’s Work” crashes things down in spectacular fashion, marching into apocalypse with a singularly simple yet powerful riff as Our Dear Uncle intones “I’m the devil, and I’m here to do the devil’s work.” The album concludes with the sound of the end of time echoing in the distance.
As with Blood Lust, the sound of this album is live and visceral while also retaining a hazy, ethereal quality as if the master tapes were giving off a contact high. The band (now a foursome? Were female Deadbeats Red and Kat a ruse, decoys to throw authorities off the trail? Or were they among those lost in the slaughter atop Mt. Abraxas?) plays like a singular organism, while the keening vocals of Uncle Acid unite with backing vox from his Deadbeats to again etch their mark in your mind.
If you listen closely, you can hear your Uncle calling. Calling from the desert. He’s got the answer. He is the answer. That knife you took in your hands last time around? Bring it with you. You’ll need it for what he has planned.
Out May 14 2013 from Rise Above/Metal Blade Records.
DO YOU WANT:
- The fuzzed-out and overloaded minimalist garage band-inspired sonics of Jesus & Mary Chain?
- The “dripping with ‘70s pop culture occultism” of Electric Wizard?
- The guitar interplay and inspired catchiness of classic Alice Cooper (think Easy Action and Love It to Death)?
- The moody melodicism of Neil Young?
- The doomy, blissed-out distortion of Black Sabbath?
- The cuts-like-a-razor vocals of John Lennon of “Tomorrow Never Knows?”
- The pulsing, throbbing riffage of Witchfinder General?
- A dusty, cryptic vibe straight out of an old Hammer movie watched on a trashed console TV set?
- AN ALBUM THAT WILL BLOW YOUR MIND RIGHT OUT OF YOUR ASS?
What if I told you that you could have all this and more in one album? NOW how much would you pay? Well, don’t look on eBay, kids, because those folks there will try to sell you this lovely, limited package for insane prices. Listen to me, and I’ll give you the scoop. Look for a reissue of this: Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats’ Blood Lust. One of 2011’s best albums, one that escaped FAR too many people’s attentions, slinking out of the darkness on Rise Above/Metal Blade Records on November 20. Because believe me, if you’re anything like me (and if you’re breathing oxygen, YOU ARE), you want this. Badly. So badly you can feel it in your bones as the chill of autumn descends. So badly that you can hear echoes of it even now, before you’ve experienced a single note. So badly that you wake up at night, visions of rituals described in the lyrics half-remembered from dreams flashing in your semi-conscious mind: disrobed participants leaping about next to bonfires as they call to their Dark Lord. You stagger through the streets, filled with a need that nothing else seems to fix, knowing somewhere deep in your heart of hearts that it’s THIS. This album, calling to you from just beyond the realm of existence.
So yeah, it’s pretty goddamned swell.
Granted, this isn’t doing anything new. It doesn’t want to. It wants to take what it loves and cram all of it together in manners you wouldn’t immediately expect but you can’t imagine happening any other way. It wants to teach you the beauty of the old ways. The bloody ways. Come, take its hand and let it lead you. Feel its evil pulsing in time with your own heartbeat.
Uncle Acid (guitar, keys, vox), Kat (bass) and Red (drums) have fashioned together this ramshackle assemblage of influences into a glorious, glorious engine of evil. They start with “I’ll Cut You Down,” which sets the stage for what you’re gonna get. “I’m paid in drugs and gold, it’s all I need / I’ll take your soul and cleanse it with my greed.” Riffs that you can’t stop banging to. And that voice. THAT VOICE. It’s the voice of madness. It’s the sound of evil posing as innocence. It’s the sound of the horror of a child’s singsong rhyme foretelling your own demise.
And it continues throughout. “Death’s Door” cuts the speed down by half, but that only serves to let you feel each hit that much more intently. “I’ll hang you higher than before / I’ll leave you dying at death’s door.” The shuffling psychedelia of “I’m Here To Kill You” (with a truly brilliant percussionary performance by Kat) takes things in an unexpected direction midway through the album, yet it’s as natural a development as one could possibly imagine. “13 Candles,” “Ritual Knife” and “Withered Hand of Evil” round out the album with tales of the evocation of Old Scratch, backed with melodies that you will not be able to shake, no matter how hard you may try.
Once you’ve been invited into the circle formed by Uncle Acid & the Deadbeats, you won’t be able to escape its clutches. Surrender to your fate. Take the knife. The altar is waiting.
Album available 11/20/12 via Rise Above/Metal Blade Records.
Five years. If this were a David Bowie song, we’d all be dead by now.
It’s been five years since Sweden’s 1970s-fueled psychedelic doomsters Witchcraft released their last album, The Alchemist. And while things have changed internally with the band (Magnus Pelander has relinquished guitar duties in favor of focusing entirely on vocals, while guitarists Tom Jondelius and Simon Solomon are new to the lineup, as is new drummer Oscar Johansson), there’s been little change in the band’s sound. Mid-period Sabbath mixed with vintage Uriah Heep. Pentagram mixed with Black Widow. Thin Lizzy combined with Jethro Tull. All cocktails served light on the prog, heavy on the riffage. Sure, you might say, there are plenty of other bands out there who are pulling from the same damned set of influences as these guys. Nouveau Sabbath bands are a buck and a quarter for a six pack. Big deal. Some trick.
If you’re saying this, then you’ve never heard Witchcraft.
Because goddamn do these guys pull off the impossible by making what would be tired and familiar in the hands of a lesser act sound completely fresh and compelling. Instead of sounding like some contemporary band shallowly aping their heroes, they manage to sound instead like some great lost ‘70s act that somehow just never managed to exist.
The biggest change on this album is that Witchcraft manage to sound even better than before. Magnus’ vocals are more impassioned, with a richer tone and better control. The new guitarists don’t divert from the path the band had been following previously, and reflect the increased musicianship Witchcraft showed on their last album. Bassist Ola Henriksson’s lines are consistently tasteful; complex and dexterous without seeming “showy” or distracting from the music. Drummer Johansson plays with a combined subtlety and force that fits right in with the songs’ numerous dynamic shifts.
Part of how well this album works is surely down to producer Jens Bogren behind the mixing desk, finally wiping the mud and murk from the sonics of the band’s previous efforts without completely updating their sound. It’s like comparing Alice Cooper’s Easy Action with the Bob Ezrin-helmed Love It to Death and Killer. Still sounds like the same band, just better.
Truth be told, I was a bit frightened to take my first listen to this, having enjoyed the band since their debut. Normally a lineup change as dramatic as theirs, combined with a move to a new and larger label (Nuclear Blast), can prove apocalyptic. But, like I said above, they pulled off the impossible. Completely surpassed my expectations, and somehow, their previous work as well.
Get yer mitts on this one, and quick. Available from Nuclear Blast, iTunes, and wherever else it is you kids shop these days.
I’m sitting here impatiently waiting for the next release from Hooded Menace to hit the streets, so in the meanwhile, let’s take a look at something that’s been keeping me afloat here in the death/doom metal downtime: Coffins’ new EP March of Despair.
There’s been some shuffling in the lineup of everybody’s favorite Japanese death/doom merchants. Longtime drummer Ryo has taken over frontman duties (new on drums is Satoshi, expanding the lineup to a foursome for the first time), while guitarist/vocalist Uchino has taken over backing vocal duties from bassist Koreeda. Got all that? ‘Cause it’s kind of important.
The first thing you notice upon listening is that they’ve really picked up the tempo quite a bit with this EP, the balance falling more on the “death” side of the scale rather than “doom.” Lotsa old-school DM influences take center stage, with some unabashed Autopsy worship, and a certain classic Celtic Frost vibe coming through (particularly due to Uchino’s frequent Tom G. Warrior grunts). They’ve not completely escaped the doom dungeon, though—thick, molasses-like riffs ooze and throb throughout.
The next thing you notice is the change in tone of the vocals. Ryo has a higher-pitched death growl than Uchino’s, and I have to say that I actually prefer Ryo’s style. Uchino’s vocals have a certain distinctive cold, hollow quality, but Ryo gives his delivery a lot more visceral nastiness. While Uchino sounds like bones rattling in the otherwise empty boxes that give the band its name, Ryo sounds like a decomposing corpse, gurgling and tearing under layers of slime.
For all its brevity, this is the Coffins release I keep coming back to the most. It’s perhaps the catchiest overall record they’ve done, with righteously punchy songwriting and tight playing, and a typically superb cover—this time of Death’s “Corpsegrinder” from their Reign of Terror demo.
Coffins is a band that’s never failed to entertain (even if you’ve managed to keep up with all of their million-and-six releases over the years), but—to me, at least—they’ve hit a whole new level with this EP. Get it from Hammerheart Records or from the purveyor of putrescence of your choice.
Doctor Sardonicus 