It is Doomsday once more and as I have said elsewhere, this year's first few months were all about the fuzzy domains of this column, for me at least. It seems as if a week cannot go by before I am dazzled by another fantastic, feedback laden release. And so, we gather here to highlight just a few of these releases, but the very best, from psychedelic rock, stoner, doom, ambience, and folk. Enjoy!
Naxatras - V
There are some people in my online networks to whom I owe an apology for not listening to Naxatras when they told me to. I’m here now, as part of my penance, to save you from having to apologize to me for doing the same thing, in a few months from now. I cannot stress this enough - listen to this album! Hailing from Greece, Naxatras continue the trend of phenomenal psychedelic and stoner music from that part of the world. Theirs is a far less riff-centric approach than, say, a Khirki or a Calyces but they easily make up for it with a richness and redolence that would cause any psychedelic group to burst out into hives of envy. Whether it’s due to production, composition, and/or sheer ambition and scale, V is something special, an album that unfolds the more you listen to it.
Bear with me please and skip on over to the third track, “Numenia”, but watch your step because we are about to land on a desert planet. Listen to that sonorous bass speak to you of a rich and star-filled night. Let the guitar riff lift you gently into the cool desert air, all the way into the unfolding richness of the synths, all of this punctuated by gently firm drums that make the whole thing stick. Lastly, add in charming and emotive vocals that speak of fantasy and enchantment, mystical and earthy at the same time and let the whole thing simmer, undulate, and grow for a few minutes, through flute passages and heavier, groovier riffs.
What you get is one of the best track on this release but by no means the only good one; everything I cited above is resplendent across the whole thing, sometimes groovier and meatier (like the track immediately before “Numenia”) and sometimes more psychedelic, unfurling even further into the reaches of cosmological exploration. God, I love this album; it’s everything modern psychedelic music should be and then some. Listen to this album! Do not find yourself burdened with regret later; do it now!
-EK
Praetorian - Pylon Cult
As much as I’d like to credit my own savvy and countless hours perusing the depths of Bandcamp, the truth of the matter is I’m more often than not the beneficiary of stumbling into excellent finds thanks to some tasteful pre-orderer I follow. Case in point, this debut full length from North Hertfordshire’s Praetorian. I’m always down for something new, and Pylon Cult’s singles left me in a nice little “What the hell is this album gonna be?” limbo for a few weeks—my favorite. On one hand we have the five-minute “Fear and Loathing in Stevenage,” which takes some Grade A crust and slowly beats it into a punishing sludge, bridging the extremes of their sound and hinting at a post-metal glimmer in their eyes. “Burly Haemorrhoid,” on the other hand, is a seven-plus-minute grind/post-metal epic that gets as self-aware as to toss in a “Just play the fucking song!” gang vocal. So yeah, these dudes can rip and riff, but I didn’t really understand what I’d be getting into. Is this some kind of grindy post-metal band, or is this another one of those bands that kinda does everything?
In short, they’re both. Though after spending more time with Pylon Cult, Praetorian feel more like a sludge band dipping into a Bob Ross palette of different genres than a full-blown grind band doing post-metal, but the point still stands that this quartet is tough to pin down. They sometimes lean toward that extra-nasty, Indian, Tombs, and Cobalt-type sludge, where the blackened moments find good company with their sometimes artsier side—which believe it or not includes some pensive moments, clean vocals, and patient, deliberate songwriting. They’re particularly good about bringing fresh ideas to the table, they often sound familiar with an unconventional approach. “Tombs of the Blind Dregs” feels like a Thou song tossed into a blender with Alice in Chains and early Mastodon, whereas “Gutwrenching” goes in a more noise rock direction with some excellent dirtbaggy riffing. The variety on display here would be encouraging alone, but there’s a “freshness” to be found here that tickles my ears. To be honest, the riffs are wonderful across the board, and the hooks come from places and at moments unexpected. It makes for an exciting and engaging listen, but I’m tossing some bonus points out there for Pylon Cult because this debut shows off loads of potential.
-JJ
Fós - Níl mo chroí in aon rud
I grew up listening to Irish and Irish American folk music, often sung off-key by my grandmother as she played cassettes in the car or by my grandfather after a few drinks. Their favorite songs became the soundtrack of my early childhood, connecting generations across oceans and decades.
Like my grandmother’s tapes, Níl mo chroí in aon rud represents memory and tradition handed down through music. Fós gracefully blends resonant doom and noisy ambience with poetic folk, crossing the boundaries of time to deliver a mournful-yet-comforting sound. Noise crackles at the edges of Níl mo chroí in aon rud, echoing both the sounds of the fires that once illuminated folk performances and the hiss of cassettes played on my way to school. Elegant vocals cascade over minimal and monolithic riffs, slowly building to an emotional crescendo. Each note is carefully considered, each moment artfully constructed.
Fós proves adept at layering their diverse influences for maximum poignancy, exercising careful restraint that allows each element to contribute to the beautiful whole. On “Slán le Maigh,” acoustic vocals take the lead as instrumentation gradually builds with lilting touches from a piano, then percussion, and eventually, fuzz-laden guitars that bring a sense of grandeur without overpowering the haunting sounds of singer Susan ní Cholmáin. Lyrics sung in the round echo the stately power of a full choir while maintaining the austere atmosphere of Níl mo chroí in aon rud. The past is welcomed, nurtured, yet ultimately transformed into something new by Fós.
- Bridget Hughes