REVIEW: HOLLOW LEG - ABYSMAL

Sometimes I forget I’m considered a music critic, because I’m really just a fan boy lucky enough to occasionally be paid for my opinions. But critics LOVE when an album/movie/book title can be used as a simple headline; let’s say, for example, the Seymour Hoffman/DeNiro film Flawless (Not quite Flawless, LOLOLOLOL!). Here we have an album named Abysmal, from Hollow Leg, a band from northern Florida that has an “affinity for the roots of American blues music and English metal,” so says their promo material. ‘Abysmal’ just happens to be one of those beautiful words that can be used to both praise and reprimand a piece of art; abysmal most often refers to something of poor quality, but can also describe something that is limitless and deeply profound. Boasting powerful performances from each musician, and offering eight tracks of zero-horseshit, Sabbath-informed sludge (is there any other kind?), Abysmal is built on a solid blues rock foundation with hardcore intensity and addresses themes that may not reach profundity, but are absolutely universal.

I first need to mention that in the second song, “8 Dead (in a Mobile Home),” I heard Scott Angelacos’ howl and immediately thought, “Oh shit, how did it take me a full song to realize this is the Junior Bruce vocalist?” He has one of those instantly recognizable voices that can’t be unheard. I say this more as a warning for non-metalheads: You will be haunted by the voice of Angelacos, which is strong enough to tattoo pentagrams in your ear canal. For metal fans: Rejoice, because his delivery is singularly awesome.

Most of the album feels like Iron Monkey accidentally stumbled into slightly gentler melodies. “Ride to Ruin” introduces a fuzzy higher-register lead to join Tom Crowther’s burly bass tones, and will be my motorcycle soundtrack when I’m eventually an outlaw biker with an eight-foot long beard. Brent Lynch provides some memorable riffs here, with “Blissful Nothing” syphoning Eyehategod’s groove and capturing the slow-motion sense of a day passing sluggishly on hashish, and “Cry Havoc” trapping the listener in an alligator death-roll as drummer Tim Creter goes in for the kill after some Big Black-era Orange Goblin goodness.

While the mixing on both “The Dog” and “Lord Annihilation” feels a little flat, lacking contrast and punch despite some great hooks and well-built tension, Abysmal is an album that’s the middle sprinter in a relay race, taking the baton from the UK’s best doom bands and handing it off to the crusty, lice-scalped troublemakers of the sludge scene. Though the song structures are closely related to 90s hardcore, this album will lead riff-worshipping fanatics of the slow and heavy into the exceptionally loud, wolf-infested abyss. And that, right there, is as close to a title-related catchphrase as I get.

Check out Abysmal over on bandcamp and get yourself the album on vinyl, or by instant download:  http://hollowleg666.bandcamp.com/

And check out Hollow Leg over on Facebook, and maybe some day they will answer what they would hide in a prosthetic limb:  https://www.facebook.com/hollowlegfl

REVIEW: SPRIGHTLY MOANS - DEMOS II

So, a sprightly moan sounds pretty sensual to me. “Moan” is one of those words that I immediately attribute to a sexual act, even though most of its supposed synonyms refer to vocal exclamations of pain or sadness. That might reveal excessive information regarding my coital preferences.

Sprightly Moans are a rock duo based in Austin, TX, where the motto “Keep Austin Weird” adorns countless T-shirts and the bustling music scene encourages experimentation. Sprightly Moans keep their sound based in the harder realms of garage rock, with Jeff Olson’s drums invoking the frantic percussive work of vintage James Gang or Bill Ward’s work with Black Sabbath. Carving out their own grungy, modern take on psychedelic hard rock, they explore the wilderness between chaotic power and gentle melody, falling somewhere between bands like The Golden Grass and Gozu. Sprightly Moans play music for beer drinking, high-fiving, and billiard disputes, capturing the raucous spirit of a bar at last call, with rhythms that roll with tumbleweed abandon and riffs that can punch holes through sheet metal. On Demos II, their sold-out limited edition follow up to the predictably titled Demos I, the duo share three tracks of amplified rebellion.

“Brinkmanship” kicks off the jam and bangs heads with heavy blues and Dave Wirth’s high-register slide guitar. The thundering drums provide a deliberate, swaggering tempo that feels like the epitome of cool-handed confidence. Although it’s a noisy, jagged musical arrangement, the song sports a smooth vocal hook, although the vocal volume does seem a bit high in the mix during the verses. “Twin Kilns” rocks loudly, with vocals that sway in a jet-stream breeze over the pulsing guitars and drums, reminding me of Canned Heat covering Mudhoney. The song has a tasty crunch to it, and seems in danger of derailing at any moment, providing a sense of danger before Olson and Wirth takes the reins back. I love music that teeters on the cliff ledge and regains composure, and this song dances on that precipice like it could perch their happily for years. “Dots and Dashes” rollicks with Pearl Jam’s Ten intensity, if their songs were crusted with bong resin and desert dust. It’s the best performance of the album and makes me eager to hear more from these trouble-makers.

Three songs may feel like an appetizer here, but I’m confident they’ll lead to an upcoming entree that should have fans of classic rock, heavy blues, and Slint-flavored noise to salivate. Give Demos II a listen over here, and enjoy Sprightly Moans bringing the volume and the groove:  http://www.sprightlymoans.com/music/

And join their Facebook family over at:  https://www.facebook.com/sprightlymoans

REVIEW: UNCLE ACID & THE DEADBEATS - MIND CONTROL

A few minutes into Mind Control and I’ve already slipped into that dreaded Wikipedia sinkhole, descending deeper into Gnostic texts, Mojave geography, and the Beach Boys discography. There’s just no telling how weird things can get when Charles Manson is one of the major influences of a band’s music. All I know is that when Uncle Acid sings, “Don’t you worry baby, you’re safe with me,” I don’t believe that mularkey for a second.

There’s a fuzzy, retro sense of danger and sleaze on the latest album from Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats, a phenomenal band from Cambridge, UK. It harkens back to memories of drive-in theaters and grindhouse cinema, pulpy horror comics and psychedelic serial killers. This is the album Ghost B.C. should wish they released in 2013, full of melody and just a touch of technicolor menace. The songs expertly walk that line between charming camp and genuine creepiness while slugging out crunchy hooks from amplifiers stacked in a swirl of cemetery fog and hookah smoke. “Mind Crawler” and “Poison Apple” rumble with mid-tempo swagger and bad boy sex appeal, while “Evil Love” feels like the James Gang started wearing black capes and playing Deep Purple songs. “Death Valley Blues” finds the middle ground The Beatles left vacant between “I Want You (She’s So Heavy)” and “Strawberry Fields,” brimming with deceptive harmonies and metallic blues.

While “Follow the Leader” drones on a bit long for my liking, this is a brilliant 70s throwback track and is that song that every band made while experimenting with the grooviest ‘shrooms they grew out in their secret gardens. “Valley of the Dolls” can’t hold a black candle to “Mt. Abraxus” or “Desert Ceremony“ earlier on the album, but its mediocrity is snuffed from memory immediately by closing track “Devil’s Work,” which stomps, swoons, and grooves to lure the listener into a trance before soaking them in the low hum of an ominous organ note befitting one of Dario Argento’s giallos. This is an album that takes an LSD chaser with every shot of whiskey and takes castle dungeon tours while stoned on its lunch break. I know, I’m anthropomorphizing this album quite a bit, but I seriously want to have a beer with it. I just wouldn’t leave my drink unattended, as I might later wake, strapped down to a concrete coffin, surrounded by women with forehead tattoos and janbiya daggers. Still, inspiring their next song might almost be worth it.

Check out Mind Control on Spotify and visit the band’s website here:  http://acidcoven.com/

And head over to Rise Above Records to keep an eye on the band’s merch, which has been selling like hotcakes. Unless hotcakes don’t sell well in your region, then it’s not like that at all:  http://www.riseaboverecords.com/products/view/364

REVIEW: MOUNT SALEM - ENDLESS

 

 

Somewhere in or around Chicago (my gut tells me Ravenswood) there is a coven of witches with impeccable musical taste who conjured Mount Salem from a smoking cauldron of black water. There is very little information available about the members of Mount Salem but the music they’ve created on Endless feels supernatural and triggers my overactive imagination. I’m not sure of the exact recipe the coven used, but it goes something like this: A heavy broth base of massive doom riffs, healthy doses of doped-up Muddy Waters electric Chicago blues, a splash of garage rock (from the darkest imaginable garage, built on an old burial ground), and a hallucinogenic pinch of occult rock psychadelia. And eye of newt, of course. Somewhere there’s a very sad pack of blind newts swimming aimlessly in a bog.

From the opening quote on “Good Times,” provided by none other than Charles Manson, Endless exists on a twisted, ethereal plain anchored by metallic heaviness while supporting the soothing vocals of their female lead singer. A minute into the song there’s already mention of burned churches, and with this musical accompaniment you can picture someone walking through the ashes enjoying the fragrance like floral incense. This is music that creates images, demands attention, and engages all senses. Endless is also accessible in the best of ways: It does not betray its heaviness with catchiness and melody. The riffs that carry these songs on their backs compare favorably to some of the best work by Sleep and Electric Wizard and feel like gentle giants: Huge in size and sound, but displaying soul.

Every song on this album is essential. Even “Mescaline,” the mid-album instrumental intermission, now a staple within the doom genre, is the perfect somber, dreamy departure from the heavy crunch of the rest of the record. Mount Salem has also already perfected what I call “psychedelic dirges,” where the keyboards and vocals dance slyly, even seductively, over ominous, heavily distorted breakdowns. It has all the same mystery and beauty of a Dario Argento horror scene, complete with the stylized bloodletting. Endless ironically concludes with “The End,” perhaps the best example of musicianship on the album, including every element of their signature sound, from smoky, goth blues to brutally loud, fuzzy stoner rock. This song will be my lullaby for a long time.

Endless feels like it’s trapped in the nightmarish head-space of a psychic medium on a bad trip. This is another album that I feel I could play for diehard metalheads and curious rock fans who may be unfamiliar with doom and receive enthusiastic responses from both. While the vocalist may sing that “this is the end of everything,” as a fan of heavy music I will gladly delay the apocalypse for a few more albums from Mount Salem.

Listen to the album here and support the band on their merch page:  http://mountsalem.bandcamp.com/album/endless

And follow them on Facebook to learn more about their upcoming tour:  https://www.facebook.com/MountSalem