Quick Hit: JUKEBOX MONKEYS - "GREY SKIES RED PLANET"

Jukebox Monkey have created a wonderful mix of contradictions with "Grey Skies Red Planet", delivering a clean sound via a wonderfully nasty disposition, a southern rock style of frankness without any direct homage...in fact, in foregoing anyone else's sound or style they are somehow reminiscent in doses of almost everyone, a mean feat from this mean foursome of warrior isle brawlers, who in doing so have developed their own unique style that is an upfront, in your face,  stoner rock bruiser of a record, inexorable and steadfast in its mammoth assault of sound, ornery in its temperament, and euphoric in its deeply fuzzy experience.

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Mississippi Bones' Vinyl Release of Songs for the Slackers, Rejects and Rabble-Rousers on Kozmik Artifactz

Snap. Crackle. Pop. That's what comes to mind when I listen to Mississippi Bones. While my purpose here is to discuss their latest vinyl offering, Songs for the Slackers, Rejects and Rabble-Rousers as well as the digital EP The Rejects Strike Back, the elite level of musicianship shines through on all their releases. Big guitars, heartbeat altering riffs, deep, rich vocals, gargantuan drums, and massive bass are wrapped and intertwined with the unrelenting and boisterous fun of each song's lyrics. It's a style that's heavily twinged with a southern flair, distantly influenced by the deep, low tones of Black Sabbath, and deeply infused with the fun and fury of Clutch. I don't even know if any of that is intentional because the sound is certainly unique to these Ohio rockers while simultaneously paying great homage to the very best of ageless metal regardless of country or time of origin.

Mississippi Bones have been quite prolific in the underground metal scene with their juiced and jaunty jams, having released no fewer than 4 albums in the six years since this decade began. They are now part of the those stoner straw dogs, Kozmik Artifactz, who have just distributed the vinyl of
Songs for the Slackers, Rejects and Rabble-Rousers this past June.

So, for a damn good time join
                      Jackhammer Jared Collins on vociferous vocals
                      Doldrum destroying Dusty Donley on riff gittin' guitar
                      Daredevil dynamo Derik "The Moustache" Dunson on pulse pounding guitar
                      Juggernaut  Jason Rector on bubbling bodacious bass
                      Jet Engine Jason Miller on death defying drums
                      Heartthrob Heather Collins on vexing vivacious vocals

You can start with their 2015 releases:

Songs for the Slackers, Rejects and Rabble-Rousers
and
The Rejects Strike Back

and then perhaps work your way back through:

Tracks and their self-titled initial release Mississippi Bones

You are bound to have a rollicking great time anywhere you land and spin with these raunchy rocking rippers of southern stoner goodness.

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DESERT STORM / SUNS OF THUNDER: SPLIT

Coming this week will be an opportunity to pre-order a 7" vinyl split between veteran heavy rock bands Desert Storm and Suns of Thunder.

To warm up for it, here is a gateway to the archives of each band, an excursion well worth a commitment, and never before featured on Heavy Planet.


If you are not yet familiar with either band, you should find that you can enjoy their decibel busting, high wattage music from past releases. Once you've laid your dark, demented minds to waste from the blitzkrieg onslaught of ethereal musical mayhem you might find you are primed for the forthcoming vinyl offering.

DESERT STORM
Desert Storm is a stoner rock, doom rock veteran hailing from the UK. They have an archive of magnificently crafted albums stretching  back to 2008, each chock full of high voltage, low tuned awesomeness. They have been featured quite a number of times at Heavy Planet:

LP Review: Desert Storm - Omniscient
LP Review: Desert Storm - Horizontal Life
New Band to Burn One To - Desert Storm

The gravel voiced frontman Matt Ryan is the epitome of the stoner/doom rock genre, deftly delivering haymaker vocals that match the darkly laden depths of bassman Chris Benoist's thunderous thumping, the supreme riffage and scorching solos of guitarists Chris White and Ryan Cole, as well as the driving dementia of drummer Elliot Cole.

The split features the new song "Signals From Beyond" which is a melodious romp of delightfully amplified distortion, booming and crackling with resonance and grace.

SUNS OF THUNDER
Suns of Thunder are not only prolific, dropping electric energy filled rock and romp dating back to the turn of the century, but are legendary in their home country of Wales. Suns of Thunder were part of a feature on Heavy Planet in which the live event, Swamp Feast, featuring Suns of Thunder, their split partners Desert Storm, as well as The Witches Drum, was caught live by Heavy Planet:

Live Review: Swamp Feast with Honky, Desert Storm, The Witches Drum, and More

High energy, explosive, adroit riffs from dual guitarists Greg Brombroffe and Matt Williams are matched with equal power, intensity, and proficiency by the same pair on their complementary vocals. The rumble and thunder of bassist Chris James propels the music forward with a voracious capacity while the high energy mojo of the music is laid out first and foremost by the virtuoso stickwork of drummer Sam Loring.

The newly crafted song "Earn Your Stripes" delivers another example of the deftly orchestrated melodies of power riffs and raunchy fun to the split with their fellow stoner rock countrymen.

These two massive representatives of rock in the twenty-first century have teamed up to release a high quality contribution of heavy low tuned sublimity this coming April. Pre-sales begin on March 29, in which you can order your vinyl copy here:

http://www.h42records.com/

Desert Storm
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Suns of Thunder
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LP Review: Live Over Freak Valley by Mothership

I had heard of Mothership but I had not seen them live so I was stoked to discover the boys from Texas were one of the opening bands for Corrosion of Conformity’s latest tour with Brant Bjork. Live Over Freak Valley was recorded at the band’s European debut in Germany and delivers the same level of intensity they brought to the Odeon in Cleveland, Ohio on an early winter night.

“Hallucination” and “Lunar Master” kick off the live record with a southern-fried bombast of blues-based fuzz. “Cosmic Rain” opens with a heavy riff reminiscent of some deep-fried ZZ Top swagger. The band goes space bass with “Tamu Massif,” an instrumental guaranteed to get your head nodding. “City of Nights” and “Win or Lose” have a distinct 70s-era KISS vibe that is both fresh and nostalgic.

From the band’s website (http://www.mothershiphaslanded.com):

“Supersonic intergalactic heavy rock trio Mothership based out of Dallas, Texas give a real sense of hope that all is well in the universe, and that pure honest rock and roll has once again returned to this planet on a mission to unite true believers. Consisting of brothers Kyle Juett on bass/lead vocals, Kelley Juett on guitar/vocals, and Judge Smith on drums, these guys have created a unique sound that satisfies like a steaming hot stew of UFO and Iron Maiden, blended with the southern swagger of Molly Hatchet and ZZ Top, paired with a deadly chalice of Black Sabbath.”

Having seen the band perform recently, I can honestly say I have a deep respect for Mothership. It’s not easy for a 3-piece to bring the same sonic quality to a live show as they do to a recording. You just can’t add an extra guitar or two unless you, well, use a backing track to add an extra guitar or two while performing live. And we don’t even need to say how disgusting that would be. Mothership relies on brothers Kyle and Kelley along with the Judge to bring all the thunder you’ll ever need in a live show. Live Over Freak Valley does the same and is the next best thing to seeing the band on a stage in your hometown.

I can honestly say that I’m not a huge fan of live recordings as the performances aren’t usually as clean and precise as the ones recorded in the studio. However, Live Over Freak Valley exceeded my expectations and I’m already checking to see when the Texans are crossing the Mason-Dixon Line again. Go get yer freak on, y’all.

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Song of the Day-Dixie Goat-"Watch Your Back"

"Watch Your Back" is taken off of the band's debut release "Black Sun Child". Heavily influenced by the Maryland doom rock scene and seventies southern rock, this song engulfs you with it's thick as tar riff and brandish attitude. The vocal is very reminiscent of Zakk Wylde and the dual guitar riff harmonics are mind-blowing. For more information, please check out the following links: Facebook | Bandcamp

Nuclear Dog's Atomic Split: Scattered Hamlet - "Skeleton Dixie" / The Blackwater Fever - "The Depths"

This week my state suffered a major catastrophe brought on by something as innocuous and terrible as weather. It is sheer coincidence that for this week I had queued up for review the tremendous "Skeleton Dixie" by Scattered Hamlet . . . scattered hamlets . . . de rigueur for central Oklahoma for two days straight this past week. As I'm listening through this ass kicking album, as well as the equally awesome "The Depths" from The Blackwater Fever throughout the week in attempts to not only prepare for the review but to escape from the horrors of the Fujita Scale, even if only for the drive to work and back each day, I was struck by some of the lyrics in Scattered Hamlet's stirring "Warning":

We all make our choice
And choose our destiny.
Through all the pain and loss
Nothin's clear to me

Too young to die,
Heed my warning.

Just snatches of a lyric embedded within gargantuan music and a personality as big and powerful as a wall cloud, but it jumped out at me. Those lyrics and their accompanying music were a powerful analgesic against heartbreak. The troubling thing, though, is the effect of the storm on me is minimal because it missed my neighborhood on both days, even if just barely. The poor folks in the paths on Sunday and Monday need strong analgesics of every sort, now and perhaps for evermore. I can only hope some of those folks will find such in the power of all the great music found on Heavy Planet. I know I do.
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SCATTERED HAMLET - "SKELETON DIXIE"

Hailing from all over the damn place and calling no place home, Scattered Hamlet are a big personality, but they don't use that mammoth projection as a cover up for little to no talent as some loud, obnoxious bands do because it could be easily argued the music behind Scattered Hamlet's persona is larger by a magnitude of significant proportions. Meaning the music is huge and hairy, filled with the dust and grit of dried wheat stacks searing in a white hot southern sun as guitars grind and clang with force and daft deft skill, bass rumbles and roars like pitted, bygone bulldozers plowing cracked ruts out of red clay, an uncanny cadence of drumbeats echoing off cliffs of sun scorched strata, and the crackle and spark of distorted amplification carrying the power and presence of overriding, dominating vocals.

Scattered Hamlet consist of:
Adam Joad - The Appalachian Apostle - vocals, guitar, harmonica, banjo
Redd Yoachum - The Texan - guitar, slide
Rich Erwin - The Kentucky Assassin - bass, vocals
Jake Delling le Bas - The Irish Thunder - drums

"Skeleton Dixie" consists of eleven songs crafted with raunchy attitude, a fervent disregard for convention, and a freight car full of retrospect and reflection on legends past and dear. Every big southern rock band you've ever heard has made a small space in the swirling vortex of Scattered Hamlet's pulse pounding melodies.

This band nails all the major points of great rock and roll. Guitars are, simply put, always engaging with riff and solo alike. Always. Bass and drums step out of bounds on several occasions, adding spice and flavor to an already gritty stew of metal shavings and discarded weldings. Vocals are powerful and fierce, able and adept in fulfilling requirements on all songs. And through it all, melodies engage and entwine lickety split, delivering memorable riffs and hooks not soon discarded.

As with the opening monster, "Shelter", where a primal, engaging rhythm of power and heat accompanies the initial experience of Joad's prodigious personna, "Falling Off the Wagon" is immense in every facet of the song, expansive in scope, gargantuan in delivery, a momentous melody of lasting forcefullness.

The winning title on the album is "Powder Kegs and Gasoline" and the accompanying music does not disappoint. This is raunch in the mud and roll in the grime fun. The closer, which happens to be the title track,  is a clever and apt choice to end a perfectly blissful listening experience with a peal and roar tempered by athletic deftness in rapid fire rifling riffs of deep, low thumping distortion.

This album is fun, plain and simple, delivering brightness and cheer through power, grace, and fury, easily lifting spirits no matter how low and black they may be.

Free embed music player from ReverbNation.com

In 2012 Scattered Hamlet attended the humongous rock n roll show held in Pryor, Oklahoma. Today they are my signature band for the events of May 19th & 20th, 2013 in Edmond, Shawnee, and Moore, Oklahoma, bringing a fury and power of their own, but not tearing down, instead building up as do all the great stoner, retro, psychedelic, doom, and sludge bands offered by Heavy Planet on a daily basis. Hail! Hail!



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THE BLACKWATER FEVER - "THE DEPTHS"

Endearing, searing, soaring, roaring melodies of melancholic pain and astonishing depth have been indelibly etched onto the amalgamation of blues rock songs captured in atmospheric majesty on The Blackwater Fever's monolithic "The Depths".

This three piece band from Brisbane, Australia recorded and produced this album entirely on their own in their home studio, and while it's their third album, it's the first self produced release. There is certainly no signs of home grown amateurism on the sounds captured within this 14 song bundle of piercing energy and soul stabbing clarity.

Band members include:
Shane Hicks - guitar, vocals
Andrew Walter - drums
Jed A. Walters - organ, bass, synthesizer

The uniqueness of each of the fourteen tracks is matched in entirety by the signature sound of the band on each song. That is a fait accompli of enormous proportions, stamping both uniqueness and signature on a baker's dozen plus one.

Deep abiding fuzz is meted out in massive portions on "Can't Help Yourself", carried along on a bed of raspy, rusty riffs like a nailbed in a hailstorm, inexorably fascinating, haunting, long carved into consciousness and memory.

Hicks' is gifted in both vocal and riff, while Walter delivers power and guile with his stickwork, and Walters is inexorably reliable in volume and depth with bass that does more than simply blend into the woodwork.

A great example of uniqueness and signature is "Don't Fuck With Joe", a song that at first listen seems like a bit of a colloquial anomaly with its Americana stamp, but familiarity breeds recognition and admiration on a melody that takes you down a back alley of sleazy pleasure that is still carpeted in deep pile fuzz and filled with blues rock components on a journey that hearkens intrinsically to Jim Croce with spiking voltage and well developed sinew.

"Now She's Gone" is a blistering, haunting, scorching horse race through deep dark mud on a background of bright, searing sunlight, immensely enjoyable and deeply memorable, while "End of Time" provides a similar, but unique experience of stirring, soaring melodies and hooks.

"Won't Cry Over You" is thick with distortion, low tuned, metronomic and masterful, split by white heat solos bridging the distance between mountains of gargantuan gravel. "Running of the Wildebeest" is an instrumental tour de force, showcasing the skillsets of each of the three band members without attention grabbing vocals in distraction. It's brutal and majestic, complex and clear, offering up an accessible platform on which to ride strands of vibration through clear and jagged streams of blues rock.

This album is superb in every way, deeply satisfying, and deserving of immediate attention, and at the end of the year when accolades are meted, as well as forevermore in a fine, riff fueled buzz bomb of extraordinarily beefy blues tunes.







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Sunday Sludge: Lowbau - "A Darker Shade of Blues"

Nobody takes a sick day when they're sick. When the asshole across from your cubicle is absent from work, bet your right arm he's gonna show up the next day with a rehearsed response to "how ya feelin'?" Nights get rowdy, the town slut won't leave your porch without assuring "I never do this," and your childhood buds hate their lives so much that they'll buy you that superfluous shot just to avoid being alone at 2:00am. Look, dude... I was young once, too. Sometimes it's hard to keep up, and sometimes you can't face your day because you lost your ass last night.

I've got these Sundays reserved for a fuckin' reason. If I tried pulling this shit on Tuesdays I'd have a real hard time keeping up with my own bullshit excuses. I play both victim and offender, but it's certainly a struggle I created. If it's one pint beyond a doctor's orders, I'll manage coffee and a fresh breath. But I don't know how I'm gonna handle Vienna's Lowbau. All the southern-sludge memories are rockin' my frame this morning, and A Darker Shade of Blues is painting my reality a new shade of stunned.

Contrasting influences play a role on this thirteen-track sludge rattler, but bringing them to alliance is Lowbau's blue ribbon. The meld of C.O.C., Pantera, and Alabama Thunderpussy angles and vibrant narrations will leave a tapestry of brazen imagery that few bands can authenticate. At times somber in the south, others thick in rusty fog, A Darker Shade of Blues threw itself onto the hood of my car and glared me in the eye. I don't care what you believe or what you question, Lowbau crafted a litany of both queries and responses, here offering both for the picking.

Opening on the crisp acoustic strums of 13, A Darker Shade of Blues is pregnant with promise. The instrumental opener is distant and sullen, but the sliding shifts and low bass thumbs press forward and soothe enough to quell any doubt. The steel toed double-kick of The Prosecution Rests... green-lights a coked-out aggression that trips most bands. Groove and pull-back are a clear Pantera nod, but Lowbau breed their own buzz-saw beauty. The blistered brutality is met with a furrowed brow, unlocking the riff and pacing a slow sludge that echoes with swinging-cock solos. The closing stomp-stagger showcases a power; let's call this an opus of opiates, because this southern sludge is daunting.

A Million Years of Rain just might be the fucking best song you'll hear this year. Southern slides and tripping basslines stroll through the dark drop of sludge blackness as if they've been there before. What's placid and pensive grows worn and thick. Everything works here, staggering toward a denouement loaded with everything that's fucking incredible about this band (massive riffs, leathered vocals, guitar proficiency, and low-mud basslines) striking an undeniable harmonic(a) balance.

For all of Lowbau's dick-thrust guitar, they offset the nut-pats with crunching groove, hitting hard on every facet of Modern Day Alchemist. Rhythms shadow the lyrical nastiness, grinding with distorted pullback and relatively tasty crunch for themes so gnarly. The buzzing, festering Grounded is equally as choppy, pulsing with a "teenage spirit" you left in a bottle behind your high school's bus garage. The track is low, intermittent, and dripping with just a whisper of insanity. So nobody really notices when punchy trench-warfare is carried out on a ticker-tape tapestry of guitar jizz.

Oh, and sketchy subject matter is hardly taboo for this quintet. Consider the living-room stomp of Alcoholic, for example. The dixie-bounce hits heavy as fuck with low bass as a twice-baked stop/start dynamic dominates, but a drunk's lack of attention to detail takes center stage here. The changing paces are slick, sure... but you're focused on finding your lighter and swearing at your neighbor about exactly where the property line sits. When are you gonna get your act together? Nanny stutters with slow-bled abrasions, slurring and swaying as you stare at the babysitter's tits. Don't worry, the smile is lost halfway through when you realize this creep ain't kiddin'. There's a Tool-ish Intermission before the return of bass bounce and low-drawn dirty blues.

Slugging away at ticking minutes, The Theft of Time is so thick with butcher-block chops (led by Brea's drums) that it'd be easy to miss the chorus, the buckets of drenched guitar, and the incredible vocals scratched with bruised hands. The buzzsaws manage to dam up a bit, but Jesus, this southern-sludge grind swings a sledge at jagged rocks and comes out ahead.

There's a lot o' music here. Gnaw more than sixty minutes with the first twelve tracks and you'll doubt you've got the steam for a nine-minute closer. Shit, the loose-doom fuzz of the disc's title track is a strong snag of sooty, soggy sludge decay. Plug toward revolutionary snares all you wants, but southern-rock emerges. Rhythms clip slow as dust and tar marry to jam your lower lip with a buzz you won't get from Beech-Nut. Progressing toward an exhausting melange of sticky rhythms and double-kicks is just where Lowbau promised to end their night. Blues return on the back of hovering atmospheres and boggy diamond-point acoustic plucks, but you've already made up your mind.

I love a beer or two with my Sunday Sludge, but this is too much. Lowbau flew under my radar for too long and decided 72-plus minutes of my life needed what they were offering. They were right, but I'm too muddled to fish at this point. Shredded sentiments, primitive/distant drums, and a fuckload o' groove should carry Lowbau beyond their thick-misted influences. This depth, these vocal walls, and the echoes of the southern timber are incredibly enticing. Don't worry about tomorrow.

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Sunday Sludge: Your Highness - Blue Devils (EP)

Well, put tits on an album cover and you'll fool anyone. Throw wings on the girl and it's hard to argue. But I'd better not find disappointment when I crack the plastic. It worked when I was a sprung teenager and went half-mast every time I played Ween's Chocolate and Cheese or QOTSA's self-titled. Tits or slates, those were incredible, formative albums that helped mold me into the sensitive, respectful stoner-sludge misanthrope that today slouches before you. But poseurs like Atreyu and Saving Abel have picked up on the seductive draw of shadowed skin and used it to scam both squirrel and tickets. So I don't dare go all Lita Ford and let my dick make a purchase.

Belgium's Your Highness stunned sludge-slingers in 2011 with their three-track Cults n' Cunts, a blues-metal barrage of stoner-sludge groove. Here on Blue Devils, they don't rely on trickery or sex (fun cover, though) to sell their sound, they simply pluck muddy southern dive-bar fist pumps and an aggressive sludge swamp sting akin to Alabama Thunderpussy and Grizzly. What results is three fucking killer tracks searing your flesh and banging your head.

Down-tuned, deep fried, and more than a tad despondent, Low Country Exiles sets off stickin' a fuzzy finger straight into the mist. Vocals scrape to make sense of a barren wasteland, faced with the death of what was once promising. As thick as it is, Your Highness have no trouble kicking into high gear, intermittent with fur and oozing at the corners with sticky sweetness. Steady drum puddles somehow manage to keep pace with a bass thread stapled to stoner guitar chops. Stop licking your sutures, pooch.

Follow that up with Wrack and Ruin and you've got a shared torment. Slow-grooved and violent, this retributive slab brims and buzzes with the confidence that comes from thickened skin. The sand-blasting of coiled angst is absolutely delicious, lighting a match under rhythms as guitars hover and slice through everything in sight. The murky solos and drowning hope formulate a bouncing confederate sludge that might help you forget about the dead hooker under the mattress.

If eighteen minutes doesn't sound like it'd suffice, just trust me. The title-track closer may wave a white flag, but it also might be your enemy's final gasp of deception. Here a scratchy, bluesy slide geetar swells into a dense thicket of endless, thorny jabs. Laid-back? Maybe. But Your Highness are never off their guard. Drenched in fuzz and chasing gnarled gravel with sloshed whiskey, the band breaks midway to stomp toward the creek and bury their secrets. The screech to a halt breeds a Warren Haynes slide step before exploding into a wet Appalachia moonshine toast of sweat and soil. Goddamn, how'd we get here? And how long can we stay?

My buddy Zac lit up my day when he introduced this EP. And now, little man, I pass this on to you. There's so much stoner-sludge goodness resonating from these three tracks that I doubt you'll notice the tits. What you will notice, over time, is a drift in your attention to hygiene, day-to-day tasks, and interpersonal relationships. It's easy to see how eighteen minutes can evolve into several days, given your inability to stop the bleeding. Your Highness don't rely on gimmicks, they just sludge-n-roll with the snarl of an old dog trotting for scraps. When the skin starts to sag, Blue Devils is still gonna have plenty o' bite.

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Nuclear Dog's Atomic Split: Skanska Mord, Abrahma, Lord Fowl

The year has flown right by, at least for me. It's been so much fun getting to know the best new music on the planet in an up close and personal manner this year. Of the many wonderful characteristics of stoner/doom/psych/retro rock there is one that just flabbergasts me, and that is how much new, original, MOUTHWATERING music is generated each year. Granted I've only been truly engaged for two years now, but I am staggered by how much new and incredible music I've found. There is so much that it's hard to showcase it all on Heavy Planet. Today I am showcasing three instead of the usual two. There have been a lot of 'best of' lists on Facebook the past several weeks and these 3 albums tend to make a majority of those lists, whether they be from fans, reviewers, or musicians. All three are from the ubiquitous and incomparable Small Stone Records label. Small Stone has cranked out more than their fair share of great, new music this year, and if rumors are any indication next year will at the very least match that output if not top it. Today we get to hear the incredible music of Örkellijunga, Sweden's Skånska Mord, the down home rock of New Haven, Connecticut's Lord Fowl, as well as the treasure chest of metal from Paris, France's Abrahma. Plug in, sit back, rock out, if you please.
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SKÅNSKA MORD - "PATHS TO CHARON"

Skånkska Mord are somewhat rare as a band because all members are from the same hometown, and while they didn't all start together as Skånkska Mord, they took full advantage of the demise of  former bands to form a new, tighter, more highly skilled and motivated band, one able to meld their seemingly disparate and individual sounds into something quite strong and exciting, something powerful and intoxicating, something that more rightly expresses the artistic qualities within each member of the new formation. They've now been together since 2006 and have generated nothing but music of the highest timbre and quality, culminating to this point with "Paths to Charon"

Skånska Mord are comprised of:
Patrik Berglin - Guitar
Petter Englund - Guitar, Backing Vocals
Patric Carlsson - Bass
Janne Bengtsson - Vocals, Harmonica
Thomas Jönsson - Drums, Percussion

They play a heavy, low tuned, and vibrant brand of psychedelic rock that slings the fuzz while wrapping a haunting and dark blanket of sound over magnificent, perfectly matched vocals from Englund and Bengtsson. The guitar work from Berglin and Englund is nimble and unforgiving as they inexorably carve their way through a thick, dense, nirvana of sound, all the while accompanied ably by Carlsson's monster bass and Jönsson's heavy caliber percussion.






╟ facebook ╞ SmallStone╞ myspace╞ last fm╞ bandcamp ╢

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LORD FOWL - "MOON QUEEN"

Lord Fowl is:
Jon Conine - Bass
Don Freeman - Drums
Vechel Jaynes - Guitar, Vocals
Mike Pellegrino - Guitar, Vocals

Lord Fowl's music is an extension of some of the great, great rock of the 70s, with a slight southern tinge despite its creators hailing from the heart of yankee country. It's as if the decade had never ended, but instead endured through the ensuing three and half decennium, spawning a surfeit of incredible, delectable music.

Lord Fowl do not spare the riffs on this jam packed album. Guitars are salient, plentiful, and unburdened, spawning generous amounts of fuzz laced, down tuned distortion intertwined throughout with hot, searing solos and scorching riffwork. The vocals are perfectly matched to the music, bearing the slightest of raw edges, while percussion and basswork massivley encompasses all, expressing perfectly Lord Fowl's melodies of magic.




╟ facebook╞ myspace╞ Small Stone╞ last fm╞ bandcamp ╢

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ABRAHMA - "THROUGH THE DUSTY PATHS OF OUR LIVES"

This Parisian foursome have delivered a treasure trove of bright shining jewels, perfectly cut, formed to perfection, exquisite in composition and detail with "Through the Dusty Paths of Our Lives", an album of 15 catchy, heavy, clever, intelligent songs.

Band members include:

Sebastien Bismuth - Vocals, Guitars
Nicolas Heller - Guitars
Guillaume Colin - Bass
Benjamin Colin - Drums

with help on the album from Ed Mundell of Monster Magnet notoriety playing solos on "Big Black Cloud", as well as the cover artist for the album, Alex von Wieding, who also is the musical mastermind behind Larmon Clamor, contributing the song and vocals for "Oceans on Sand . . . ". How cool is that?

There is plenty of fuzz and low tuned music laid expertly over clever and often ingenious melodies generating a climate of fun and fury for riffs and solos, vocals and rhythm, chorus and refrain in this stoner rock fest of an album.






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Nuclear Dog's Atomic Split: Dwellers - "Good Morning Harakiri" / Sun Gods in Exile - "Thanks for the Silver"

What is the very best thing about Stoner/Doom/Psychedelic rock, the thing that sets this music apart more than anything else, that makes it worthwhile and meaningful and incredibly joyful to hear and play? It has to be the unanimous recognition by the thunderous hordes of practitioners and their insatiable devotees that guitar is king. Obviously there is no musical style that reveres the guitar more than rock and roll, and I'm a firm believer there is no rock and roll genre, or set of genres, that places the guitar up on the exalted altar of total glory than those espoused on Heavy Planet: Stoner, Doom, Psychedelic, Sludge, Fuzz, High Desert Rock, New Grunge . . . True Rock.

It's no secret that Stoner Rock, Doom Rock, Psychedelica, are all legitimately classified as underground music due to a lack of mainstream recognition, be it through airtime, album sales, or inclusion as theme music on thousands of Hollywood productions, large or small. But that, perhaps, lends itself to the freedom of artists who conjure forth such incredible music week in and week out, year in and year out, until there is so much of it, and so much of it excellent, that it's nearly impossible to discover as much great music as exists. Besides your daily visit to Heavy Planet, where great music is eternally available, there is one other sure place to go for a compendium of some of the finest True Rock available in one place, and that is Small Stone Records, a label that puts forth a tremendous effort to find and sign musicians that create a sound worthwhile as a lifetime go to source.

Today, Nuclear Dog once again visits Small Stone Records and introduces you to two bands, two gifted groups of artists, that truly understand that guitar is king.

DWELLERS - "Good Morning Harakiri"

Rare is the band that can create a sound unique enough to call its own without paying heavy homage to some sound of the past, near or distant. Dwellers could very well be such a band. I cannot purport to be any sort of musical historian, so I could never say their music isn't at least somewhat derivative of something somewhere, isn't all music?, but for me the sound this threesome create is incredibly unique, and immensely enjoyable. Each song is relentless in its delivery, melded with inexplicable moxie out of ethereal musings and exhibiting guitar work that soars and churns with dexterous ease, riding a plasma wave of unyielding energy borne of the fiercest joy. Vocals strike an incredibly perfect chord, combining a near perfect rasp to an athletic and capable range, lending themselves to the classification of perfect True Rock vocals.

The abilities of the threesome that make up Dwellers is perhaps the result of prior experiences in previous and alternate bands combined with innate ability and passion that has set the course for all three long ago. Iota member Joey Tuscano takes credit for guitar, vocals, and song writing, bringing his considerable talents to the fray from years of playing in the trenches. Zach Hatsis on drums and Dave Jones on bass, formerly of Subrosa, complete the trio by bringing their own years of trench warfare into the mix. The recipe here has worked often in the past, where talent is forged with experience for several years until karma plays its hand and brings together musicians that seem to experience an epiphany and revelation for significant and noteworthy music that makes its indelible and eternal imprint upon the universal tome of True Rock.

"Old Honey" is a perfect example of the quiet fury of their music as it builds from low intensity to an unyielding guitar encased by the onslaught of the drums beating out a path and a rhythm that always hits its mark in perfect unison with the merciless and malleable bass. It is a psychedelic journey of intrepid emanation and power, laying bare the soul of those who listen just as it had done to those that played, delivered with the wet thump of bloodletting vocals that twist the visceral and primal core held subservient to its almost hypnotic power. 

There is a wonderful and slight distortion of the riffs that ride roughshod over "Lightening Ritual", while the drums play a prominent role out front of the tune and the vocals are harmonized for a powerful, primal effect. "Black Bird" carries out more distorted riffage, powerful in delivery, and accompanied by the wide stance of booming bass and backed again by the heavyweight hooks of champion drums.

"Good Morning Harakiri" has been released for several months and perhaps has flown under the radar of too many lovers of True Rock. This is music at its absolute finest and is now compiled in one place that could very well find its way onto several top music lists of 2012.

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SUN GODS IN EXILE - "Thanks for the Silver"

Sun Gods in Exile play rawk n' roll. It's rowdy, it's loud, it's abrasive, it's relentless, it's tinged with a Southern sound reminiscent of a dozen great bands, from now and down through the decades. It still brings its very own, bourbon inflected sound that you simply cannot sit still for. It moves you, it relates to you, and it pleases you to no end, because this is both fresh and exciting at the same time as the music you grew up with. It is all the great bands past and present you cannot get enough of. The songs are melodic and familiar, and easily sung to. There may not be a more listener friendly set of songs than on "Thanks For the Silver", and we're talking about a sizeable set of songs, with ten incredible tracks that could quite likely burn your place down if you don't pay attention while playing. You will not be able to get enough of "Thanks for the Silver".

There is a strong blues rock component to SGIE's sound, reminiscent a bit of The Black Crowes, among others, with a considerably heavier dosage of guitar riffs ensconced within a huge phalanx of bass, drums, more guitar, and various other fun sounds that create the larger than life sound this furnace blast band emanates with an obvious joy. These guys go all out when they play and it's obvious they have just as much fun playing as you will listening. 

Band members include:

Tony D'Agostino - Guitar

Adam Hitchcock - Guitar, Vocals

John Kennedy - Drums, Percussion

Chris Neal - Keys, Slide Guitar, Harmonica, Backing Vocals

"Climb Down" is a prime example of the classic and fresh sound SGIE have created on this album, hitting a reminiscent sound to the aforementioned Black Crowes. "Since I've Been Home" will rock you all the way to point it then pulls on your heart strings in the chorus, reaching down through the tunnels of time to one of those smoke filled, whiskey splashed joints of past times and fuzzy memories. If you want scorching solos check out "Broken Bones" where fire is a likely outcome and Molly may bring out her hatchet for a second or two. "Nobody Knows" is a dance hall summer storm, blowing through at a quick and catchy clip, blowing up skirts in its wake and likely wearing out a hole or two in shoe leather to boot. For sheer beauty it's hard to beat the title track, "Thanks for the Silver". 

You can't help but have a good time when you play through "Thanks for the Silver". Sun Gods in Exile are a tightly knit fivesome that know how to deliver music that tugs at the ol' heartstrings while providing the homage to the Guitar Gods we pray to daily.

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Sunday Sludge: Yellowtooth - "Disgust"

I can't say I've "visited" Michigan City, Indiana. I had to pull off Interstate 94 last fall when my son nearly shit his pants on a return to Illinois from Michigan. The exit didn't take us far into town, and I left without giving Michigan City another thought. I'd failed to recall that Heavy Planet years ago featured the down-tempo, beer-guzzling sludge trio Yellowtooth as a New Band To Burn One To. It's too bad; these guys would get along great with my wife.

Just this past week, Yellowtooth released Disgust (Orchestrated Misery Recordings), a ten-track diatribe of shit-caked southern indigestion that buzzes better than a lipper o' Skoal. The sound is thick and damp, while the mood is dark and malevolent. There's no shortage of everything you'd expect from an excellent sludge record, but the band set themselves apart by leaning toward doom, nodding to southern rock forefathers, and spitting a barely detectable whisper of harmony here and there. Tasty stuff.

Wizard Dust opens with an immediate chop-riff-chop dynamic that is nearly buried by a low bass grumble. Henry McGinnis provides a gruff, glass-chewing vocal that perfectly marries the filthy sludge churn. His guitar pulls away from the mire just long enough to break into a middle-finger solo, sailing over a hard-hitting rhythm and shooting straight up your ass. That intermittent chop is revisited on Prophetic Ramblings. Quick and thick with a dusty shred and murky low-ends, the track keeps a torrid clip. The choppy back-and-forth is led by Peter Clemens' bass, strung through the album like hot razor wire.

The heavy-handedness of Burning Daylight and Traitor demonstrate a penchant for an arcing pendulum of doom. Burning Daylight's judgment day sound is evil and unforgiving. The slow burn gives way to a guitar gallop as listeners are dragged by their heels. Yellowtooth are laughing every time you squeal, as the under-lighted vocal creeps alongside buzzsaw riffery. Traitor, on the other hand, punishes slowly. Ed Kribs' drums were recorded in medieval Romania on this drudging doom return. Ominous clouds break on a lifted tempo as McGinnis' fretwork burns down villages. Oh, and that simmering, electric bassline can't be ignored as gargantuan riff-stomps drive in the dagger.

There's a surprise or two as the album's thorax hits its stride. 75 Black Pontiac is a (kind of) hopeful and harmonious change of pace. The massive riffs haven't fled, but the rhythm isn't slung as low as the other tracks. You could say guitars are responsible for the massive directional shift, but you'd be impatient and proven wrong. Yellowtooth return to the grip of stomach-knotting sludge, while a stoner roll and sweet solo later juxtapose the wet-blanket vocal prevalent throughout. Following a similar trajectory is On the Trail of Lewis Medlock, which is only slightly more accessible than what we've come to expect from Yellowtooth. Southern-fried rock elements abound and we never quite leave the bog, though there's slightly more melody here as the tires spin. A vengeful stomp through thick, dense timber relents and Clemens' bass again simmers.

The riff-driven, crackling-ember patience of Soulstalker's opening moments is quickly met with a layered toilet-gurgle, picking up on a grinding sandblast. The engine purrs with malignance, guitars break free and cruise through Dimebag-ish pullback, and Kribs' double kick-drum attack sets the pace. But the Dimebag influence is most noticeable on the smoke-blown, smoldering romp of The 11th Hour. The track is Yellowtooth at their finest, peppering rhythmic drops amid the hollow guitar fuzz. We move from a cool southern jam into a fever-pitched sonic assault, chugging home on ashy swill. These fuckers just set fire to everything the first nine tracks achieved. This closer has it all.

Disgust is a changeling; it's gonna sound different every time you hear it. Whether it's the choppy, stoned rhythms stealing the keys and going off the map or guitars climbing the bell tower, there's a truckload o' stickiness here. Yellowtooth take their pedigree (these guys cut their teeth in some pretty awesome bands) and chuck it from an overpass. This filthy tumbler pairs well with road sodas as you kick up gravel and take out some dickhead's mailbox with a crowbar. "Southern-fried stoner-sludge-doom"? Fuck it. It's heavy. It's bad-ass. And it's perfect when you're chasin' Beam with Busch Light.

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New Band To Burn One To: TOMBSTONE HIGHWAY

HEAVY PLANET presents...TOMBSTONE HIGHWAY!

BAND BIO:

Tombstone Highway was originally shaped on the muddy banks of the mighty Po'/Padus river (the longest river in Italy) in Piacenza. These rural places and their folklore surely have influenced the creation and the mood of the band; Black Sabbath, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Doom Metal, Southern Rock and traditional Blues and Bluegrass (with the added heaviness of low-tuned guitars and bass) provided the musical inspiration! The band was born in the summer of 1999 under the monicker of Leaf Season Death (L.S.D.), from the will of HM OUTLAW and S.O.B. . They practiced for several months as a 2-people outfit, but due to the lack of other members to complete the line-up, the 2 guys grew bored and respectively joined forces with other bands, to pursue different musical ventures. In 2006 the 2 guys decided to work again together on the band and they started writing new material and to practice again, then shortly after Mike B. (from the Post-Grindcore band Viscera///) joined on Bass, and the band's monicker was definitively changed and set to TOMBSTONE HIGHWAY. After some rehearsals in their barn near the Padus river, the guys entered the studio (in November 2007) to record the first official EP, appropriately titled "Padus River Graveyard Blues". The EP is spread around in a few copies and used as a promo-CD only for labels, as well as a gift for a restricted circle of friends. After a hiatus due to commitments of the members with their other respective bands, as well as the departure of Mike B., HM Outlaw and S.O.B. started again to write new songs and rehearse as a 2-people outfit. They currently recorded the first full length album, titled "Ruralizer", and they're searching for a suitable label to release the album internationally. Some session-members on guitar and bass will be added subsequently to play live-shows.



THOUGHTS:

"While technically speaking, Tombstone Highway is not exactly a "new band". The band has been toying around with their gritty southern metal influenced sound since 1999. Only recently (2006) has the band gotten fixated on a name change to go along with their down-home aural bludgeoning. The foot-stomping madness ensues as soon as the play button is pushed. Scorching fuel-fired riffs, whiskey-soaked vocals and a banjo, yes I said a banjo, are used to promptly kick ones collective ass. Crack open a cold one and crank up this sum bitch !"

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New Band To Burn One To-Conan's First Date

The "New Band To Burn One To" today is Conan's First Date.

Bio:

"Conan’s First Date incarnated in the city of Szentendre in late 2008. Tuned down to the ground, touched by various influences, CFD delivers a modern, catchy, dynamic but yet brutal, complex and traditional metal music involving elements from death and thrash as well as from stoner and southern rock. Such bands would come to mind as machine head, BLS, soilwork, entombed, nevermore or pantera. The very first record of the band was self-made and gained success around the Hungarian rock and metal media. One of the most frequented webzine of Hungary, heavymetal.hu labeled CFD as the ‘already one of the biggest surprises of 2009’, while other magazines also concordantly agreed that this shouldn’t stay inside the walls of the country. Since the summer of 2009 the band is promoted by Powerground management, which supplies local, but widely successful bands such as Watch My Dying, Slytract or Cadaveres. Effigies consist of two different materials including the first recording, ‘The Werewolf Rising’. This ‘double EP’ is an essential record leading from the heavyweight mayhem of Killing Machine to the floating space trip of Million Miles From Home, a cover song from the 90s rave/techno act, Dune. The self-productive effort of the band became stronger as the band created its first video without any involvement of an outside production studio. The video was shot for the song ‘The Werewolf Rising’ from the identically titled debut EP."

Conan's First Date from Hungary creates a devastating mixture of in-your-face Death n' Roll. While listening to their tunes on MySpace I could hear elements of Stoner/Southern Rock and Death Metal. Fans of Entombed, Down, and Black Label Society will rejoice.




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Album Of The Day-Dixie Witch-"One Bird, Two Stones" (2003)

The Album Of The Day is "One Bird, Two Stones" by Dixie Witch.

Review:

Unlike most of its hard-rockin' new millennium counterparts, Texas trio Dixie Witch rarely explodes into manic spells of stoner rock head-banging, but rather tends to lay back and coast along laid-back highways paved by Southern rock grooves. The piss-poor production values aside, there's much to love in the band's second album, One Bird, Two Stones, which features a wealth of inspired head-nodding anthems like "Drifting Lady," "Makes Me Crazy," and especially the Skynyrd-esque "The Wheel." Singing drummer Trinidad Leal employs a convincing Dave Wyndorf-styled moan 'n' yowl technique on both the unusually hard-driving "Turbo Wing" and the more typical stride of "On My Way," while the standout "More of a Woman" simply flips the guitar riff from Aerosmith's "Sweet Emotion" inside out. And to wrap things up with a flourish, lengthy, lazy closer "Traveler" offers an admirable tour de force by guitarist Clayton Mills, including electric, slide, and acoustic work. With so much strong material weighing in the album's favor, it's really a pity having to deal with such a frustratingly muddy sound mix, but then perhaps this is as Dixie Witch intended. Whatever the case, most lovers of gritty and honest Southern rock are likely to forgive these technical issues in order to see through to the great tunes below. (Ed Rivadavia, AMG)

Track Listing:

01. Get Busy
02. Going South
03. More Of A Woman
04. The Wheel
05. On My Way
06. Drifting Lady
07. Makes Me Crazy
08. Turbo Wing
09. Here Today Gone Tommorow
10. Traveler

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