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Samothrace is an island off the coast of Greece most famous for the ruins of its temple complex, commonly known as The Sanctuary of the Gods. At this site a whole cult of mystery was born, complete with rituals, an annual fest, and sacred dramas involving the gods of the underworld. Sounds like the original Wacken Open Air Festival.

The Pen Of Dooooooom

Greece is a long way from Lawrence, Kansas home of dooooooooomsters Samothrace. My original intention was to poke fun at Lawrence, but turns it’s a college town (University of Kansas), and is the only city in Kansas that prohibits discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation. Seems like a pretty reasonable city in a sea of corn.

It would be unfair to label these guys as just another doom band. There are touches of post-rock flair,  Midwestern blues riffs, funeral doom tempos (think Asunder), and the desolation of “The Eye of Every Storm” era Neurosis. “Circle” by Esoteric also came to mind while listening as there are clear similarities (thanks for the tip Mr. Rocco). I can’t help but feel that they are true fans, filling a void and crafting songs that they want to hear.

Their debut, “Life’s Trade” is essentially one sprawling work, 4 songs covering nearly 50 minutes, with no clear boundaries between. If I had to choose, I would say that “Cacophony” is the strongest track, particularly the build and dual guitar release at the tail end. Throw in some amazing art courtesy of the official pen of doom, David D’Andrea, and this album was one of the finest of 2008.

20 Buck Spin has found another winner, showing once again their ear for the great. We will at some point have reviews of the entire catalog posted, so stay tuned. It rare to hear such a remarkable debut, and I do not hesitate to say that this is a band I will be watching closely. Now excuse me while I get back to my Greek mythology while I anxiously await a follow-up.

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In the biggest lineup deflection in black metal since Gorgoroth cracked, Negură Bunget, the cosmic-folk-dark-ambient and totally badass band of Romanian mystics has all but imploded and left dust in the skies.

Official statement as released by the band:

“This has to be one of the most difficult messages to be written. We are sorry to announce that Hupogrammos [guitars, vocals, bass, keyboards, archaic instruments] and Sol Faur [guitar] have ended their journey along Negură Bunget. Our paths are now apart. We wish them all the best on their new endeavors (their new project will be announced at a later time). Meanwhile, a new Negură Bunget lineup is assembled, which will continue the path started almost 15 years ago. Rest assured, we are keen to prove there is more to be said by this band, and we will work to fulfill our spiritual endeavor relentlessly.

[guitars, vocals, bass, keyboards, archaic instruments] and

“All Negură Bunget scheduled plans (concerts, festivals, contracts with Aural Music/Code666 Records and Prophecy Productions/Lupus Lounge) will be completed in the new formula. New web site and MySpace page are developed and will soon be online.”

Hupogrammos and Sol Faur have released the following statement regarding their departure from Negură Bunget: “We would like to thank everybody who supported and believed in Negură Bunget and invite you to follow our further musical activities.”

This is especially sad, as it was Hupogrammos who provided much of the psychedelically blackened antediluvian sounds that made the band so unique (2006’s Om is one of my very favorite records).  The band is going to go on with a whole new lineup, but it obviously wont be the same.

We know that these guys are all geniuses in their own right so we’re not worried that we’re going to see a lack of killer music from any of the ex-Negură Bungets, but it is still sad to see such a talented and forward thinking band implode.

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Here’s some morning mash for your ears!

Nathan ’Flutebox’ Lee, the UK’s preeminent ‘fluteboxer’, has been flowing his hip hop and ragga infused styles all across the country as of late, and recently hit up the Google camp down in London.

Check this video, which also features fellow lip slapper, the refreshingly unbearded Beardyman, who’ll slam you with a killer drum n’bass beatbox and Nina Simone mouthmix, if that’s your sort of thing.

If not, then glaze on, slappy sailor!

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The internet has been a godsend to artists obscure and freaky.  Once relegated to the dustbins of the macabre music stores, they’ve been released and vindicated by the fans they’ve always potentially had, but have never been exposed to.

Your music smells like shit.

But there are downsides to this digital web we weave.  The luster of picking up the the newest or most interesting looking record from the shelf, flipping through the sprawling gate-fold sleeve, beholden to the artists whim as you’re guided upon an unexpected journey has been lost upon the download generation.

It’s too easy to p2p a leak, distracted as you skip around through tracks and playlists.  The original artistic ideal of the creator is lost upon many, if not most of today’s listeners.

This very sentiment has been expressed in numerous ways in the music and direction of Steven Wilson.  His monolithic releases though his flagship band Porcupine Tree, and through his numerous, more experimentally tinged side-projects like Bass Communion, No-Man, and The Incredible Expanding Mindfuck, have always been meant to be taken as one complete deluxe package.  He has written anti-isolationist concept records, blissful dream pop, and all-encompassing sonic assaults.  But it’s his newest record, Insurgentes, the first to be released under his own name, that finally encompasses everything Steven Wilson is.

Unfortunately for this adventure, Insurgentes starts off rather blandly.  Harmony Korine, a non-tribute to the abstract surrealist film director, isn’t quite as abstract or surrealist one would hope.  As the most Porcupine Tree-like song on the album, it does serve to draw in the casual listener or semi-fan, but other than that, it’s lack of dynamics and sonic interest don’t do much to whet the whistle.

Things get more interesting just as Steven decides to be.  Abandoner and Salvaging both start off rather meekly and open, drifting the listener on sonic worlds both unexpected and terrifying.  Venemo Para Las Hadas, in giving homage The Sky moves Sideways, a former release of Porcupine Tree, keeps to the ethereal in vocal loops and colorful textures.

The highlight of the record is easily the penultimate track, Get All You Deserve.  It’s harrowing buildup from heartless desolation to obscene breakdown is not for the faint of heart.  It makes me even wonder if Steven Wilson needs a hug.

These descents from beauty to madness characterize much of Insurgentes, which truly is Steven’s all-encompassing homage to the schizophrenic and ADD-addled generation of todays youth, who cannot and will not sit still and enjoy.  By varying the sonic palate of the record and then typically destroying it, Steven Wilson not only welcomes their arrival, but forces them to sit down, shut up, and listen to music again.

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I assume that by now, we’ve all had the (mis)fortune to read all about Sweet Sue’s whole canned chicken. Yeah. Well, I’m not going to go into many details, as the onion av club has already taste tested this disaster. Please put me under and wake me when they start preserving whole cows in oil barrels.

SCHLORP!

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Before there was punk, there were The Monks. Before there was noise, there were The Monks. Before there was drone, there were The Monks. Before there were dudes onstage in robes, there were The Monks. Get the point? Basically these five GI’s altered the course of music, in the ugliest and most amazing manner possible, all without the use of heavy psychedelics! How influential were the monks? Well, they “discovered” feedback while practicing and decided that it was going to be a central part of their sound. Club owners were not pleased.

No time for album art

Keep in mind this is 1964, while the beatles are still wearing matching suits, crooning “I Want To Hold Your Hand” and prancing and preening like a bunch of poncy hairdressers. These gents are crafting ear-fucking tunes like “Shut Up” and “I Hate You.” It is said that the mighty Hendrix himself first saw the wah pedal in use during a Monks show. And if all this wasn’t enough, they were also the first band crafting anti-military jams before it was the easiest way to score poontang outside of alcohol. But like all good things, they were paved over and we’re stuck with the Rolling Stones. Burn your “History of Punk” books, folks listen to this record Your perceptions of how heavy, loud, ugly music came to be may never be the same.

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Download: Rodriguez – “Heikki’s Suburbia Bus Tour” (mp3)

Resurrected 60’s icon Rodriguez has announced tour dates for his 2009 tour, and it’s not to be missed by anyone into classic psychedelic folk (and you do own Forever Changes, don’t you?).

Someone lost a shoe.

For those not in the know, Sixto Diaz Rodriguez put out his record Cold Fact in 1969 to complete commercial failure.  Imagine his surprise in 1998 finding out that Cold Fact had become a huge hit in South Africa, Australia, Zimbabwe and in New Zealand.  Rodriguez had become an icon of psychedelic folk rock all over the world, and had unwittingly formed a loyal fan base that enacted an internet campaign, “The Great Rodriguez Hunt” to track him down in 1997.

Last year, Light In The Attic Records reissued Cold Fact to fan and critical acclaim (imagine that, critics changing their tune), and Rodriguez had returned.  Light In The Attic is now working on reissuing also ignored followup, Coming From Reality, and as such, a new tour has been announced.

Check it.

• Fri, Apr 10- High Noon Saloon- Madison, WI
• Fri, Apr 24- Beachland Ballroom- Cleveland, OH
• Fri, May 08- Schubas Tavern- Chicago, IL
• Sat, May 09- Magic Stick- Detroit, MI
• Wed, May 13- Rock and Roll Hote-l Washington, DC
• Thu, May 14- Johnny Brenda’s- Philadelphia, PA
• Fri, May 15- Bowery Ballroom- New York, NY
• Mon, Jun 22- Richard’s On Richards Cabaret- Vancouver, BC
• Tue, Jun 23- The Triple Door- Seattle, WA
• Wed, Jun 24- Doug Fir Lounge- Portland, OR
• Fri, Jun 26- Slim’s- San Francisco, CA
• Sat, Jun 27- El Rey Theatre- Los Angeles, CA
• Fri, May 29- Paradiso- Amsterdam, Netherlands
• Sat, May 30- Whelans- Dublin, Ireland
• Mon, Jun 1- Nouveau Casino- Paris, France
• Wed, Jun 3- Circolo Degli Artisti- Rome, Italy
• Sat, Jun 6- Barbican- London, UK
• Sun, Jul 12- Les Ardentes Festival- Liege, Belgium

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Get out of my dreams.

Download: Dinosaur Jr. – I Want You To Know (mp3)

Dinosaur Jr. may have just won the album cover award for 2009.  And that’s no small feat, considering how good the art has been for both of the reviews below.  But as this one is so obviously inspired by a few of my favorite things – the Lord of the Rings, dystopian ideals of the future, and of course, the magic herb -  J’s newest has the edge.

The song isn’t bad either, though it has a pretty serious case of the Death Magnetic Flu, making it a little difficult to listen to.  Come on people, quality over all!

“Download “I Want You to Know,” the first mp3 from Dinosaur Jr’s new full length “Farm,” due out on June 23 in the US and Canada via Jagjaguwar, and June 22 in the UK and EU via PIAS.”

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I hate drum circles.  Which doesn’t make sense, because I really dig all the ingredients.  I love drums.  I love pot.  I love circles.  So it doesn’t make sense that I’m so annoyed by groups of stoners sitting in circles banging on drums.

Baizley is a badass

Along comes Savannah, Georgia’s Kylesa, taking the circle out of the drum circle and replacing it with their own private blend of blunt forced sludge.  Paying homage to both King Crimson and King Buzzo, Static Tensions, the fourth LP by these deeply fried southerners, is their most realized and solid slab of slate so far.

The two drummer attack is the first thing you’ll notice when rocking this album on the cans, as you must, since this album was built be listened to in a hazy headphon’d state of mind.  Kylesa want you to think of them as the psychonauts of sludge, and they’re going to do what they can to pull you deep into their damp domain.  They’re not trying to attack you from all angles at once; Kylesa want to knead your dome downward into the soggy psychedelic swamp.

And they really hit you hard on this one.  The hard panned stereo drumming is only one part of the mix – the other concerns not just the heaviness of the rhythm guitars and bass, but also the three vocalists who deliver soft-edged bellowing on the frailty of life, the nature of synchronicity, and other surreal essences of time and space.  These are the existential pontifications that keep sane men insane at night, so it’s a good thing Kylesa provides a soundtrack worthy of thinking these goddamned lunatic thoughts they’re forcing on me.

There are some serious vibrations here on Static Tensions, the album that really define Kylesa as the badass group of badasses they’d been hinting at for years.  And it’s a good thing too, because otherwise, they’d just be moving in circles.

Drum on, metal hippies.  Drum on.

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Tony Iommi had a good run last summer.  Two successful tours with Heaven & Hell – or the real Black Sabbath as they could be called – had allowed him to finally flex those riff muscles that had almost atrophied after rolling around on the festival circuit with the Sharon-sponsored, zombie-Ozzy fronted Black Sabbath, playing that Paranoid solo again.

If only the album was as good as this cover

But along with Dio (who can sing), Vinnie (who can drum), and Geezer (who will kill), Tony was able to play guitar again.  My mind was completely blown by the 10 minute version of The Sign of the Southern Cross, complete with mastodonic riffage, spacey jazz odysseys, and face melting face melting.  This band was on fire, and since Ozzy was busy living his so-called-life as an automaton, an album was imminent.

So what happened?  The Devil You Know plods along safely and innocuously.  There’s a bit of hard rocking in here, but there’s very little creatively that hits that fist pumping nerve.  While, granted, everyone in the band is of a grandfatherly age, I sure as shit don’t want to be able to hear it.  From the intro drum fill to the opening riff, the band instantly slows it down to an unexceptional, geriatrically unmotivated crawl.  Even Dio’s medieval croon isn’t enough to save the fair maiden either, as even he seems lackadaisical in comparison to their burning live performances of last summer.

Tony Iommi was my first guitar hero.  His playing was fueled by an unassuming black flame, always hot, yet always restrained; Tony would never allow his true secrets revealed.  Black Sabbath always had a self-concious mystery of potential, keeping things dark and mystifying.  Even on Tony’s solo records you could feel that fire burning hot and black.  I can’t say the flame is extinguished on The Devil You Know, but it sure could use some fanning.

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