Every word of this story was written under the influence of marijuana, two different strains as I wrote in in separate parts. You kind of have to when you’re talking about Sleep, the long-running doom legends that have crafted their entire catalog on smoking pot and the adventures you take. We all know this so let’s get into what they’re doing now.  

“Hempispheres” is another ridiculous word warp to make it pot related, which we love, and it’s their sixth full-length (“Jerusalem” and “Dopesmoker” are different records, right?) and second for Third Man, and it signals a major shakeup within the ranks. Of course Al Cisneros (bass, vocals, Moog synthesizer) remains at the head of the ship, but guitarist Bubba Dupree replaces Matt Pike (a lofty goal) and drummer Dale Crover (Melvins, Fantomas) takes over for Jason Roeder, who is back with Neurosis. This record does sound much different than what preceded it. It’s a more laid-back affair, and the approach to guitar is less fiery and more mood-altering, which makes more sense with the new material. It took some time to warm up, but the new terrain is getting more comfortable.  

“Have Spacesuit Will Travel” opens, bass bending through space, riffs engaging and exploring, Cisneros’ unmistakable voice deliberately telling the tale. Doomy licks curl as keys whir, bringing an imaginative and cosmic bend to the mind frame going on here, zapping even more psychedelic. Guitars melt as melodies bubble, the bass clobbers, and the path reaches into beyond. “The Morrisist” is murky as guitars open, the pace trudges, and the singing crawls, the heat spreading its wings. The tempo is lumbering, but the atmosphere expands, the elements liquify, hypnotic tones make your mind spin out of time, eventually draining into a mental sea. The title track stomps in, the singing lulls, and things get crunchier, the keys opening a wormhole into another dimension. Drums go on a run as guitars cut in, adding a sleepy tone that also makes your insides rumble, the singing plotting a way into psychic warmth. The fuzz thickens as the guitars bleed and electrify, sizzling to the end.

“Arrival of the Industry Ships” is the longest track, running 11:11 and immediately setting up a ’70s-inspired static, easing along as the bass flexes, new riffs buzz, and Cisnero calls, “Pterodactyl flies from the east.” A little callback to “Giza Butler” perhaps. The guitars strike and reek of vintage fumes, the singing calms, and the bass trucks, streaming mercury and letting guitars smoke, scratching a trail into the stars. Closer “Whole Wheat Mountain / Well Baked” chugs and drives, bone-dry vocals directing, the guitars heating up into a psychedelic soup, eventually calming as the bass shuffles. The temperature rises as the playing sets heartbeats accelerating, calming into a nighttime vibe that carries you away.

It’s not like Sleep ever were ones for brutality or speed, but “Hempispheres” takes their deliberately paced style to an even more relaxed setting. That’s hardly an issue for a band like this, because the accompanying activity to their records largely is based on following the smoke to the riff-filled land. This is probably their least explosive record yet, one that feels much different with the new lineup, but it’s still a fun, chill journey to the back of your fucking imagination.

For more on the band, go here: https://www.hempispheres.com/

To buy the album, go here: https://ffm.to/hempispheres

For more on the label, go here: https://thirdmanrecords.com/