With things being pretty stormy and unpredictable in my part of the world the last week or so, it’s been a fine time to delve back into my collection of woodsier metal. It just makes sense to me to embrace nature’s beauty and viciousness at the same time, and visiting bands that respect and embody both of those traits always sound good when lightning is blazing across the sky.

In a matter of incredible, yet coincidental timing, I just so happen to have two promos at my disposal from a label that chooses its moves wisely and always has their ears tuned toward bands that celebrate the natural, folk-embellished in the metal kingdom. Bindrune Recordings’ motto is “Woodland Denizens, Unite,” and really, that tells you a lot about the label’s roster. Most of its bands sound like they have their minds in the moist, forestal areas, and they always choose to release music that is as mentally stimulating as it is loud and abrasive. Truth be told, it’s one of my favorite labels in metal, and I always heavily anticipate their releases, as sporadically as they come. Not complaining about that, by the way. I’d rather have a little of a good thing than a ton of stuff that’s hit or miss.

Bindrune has one hell of a bounty for listeners this time with new releases from two of their best bands. Both of the efforts signal a bit of a departure from the bands’ previous work, but not in any radical way that long-time fans could not have seen coming. And I’ve been listening to both albums quite steadily since getting my promo versions, so I’ve had a really nice sonic backdrop to the recent downpours.

We’ll start with Blood of the Black Owl, the more bizarre of the two bands, at least in my opinion. When I first came to know of this project with the self-titled debut album in 2006, it wasn’t exactly love at first listen. I don’t think anyone would argue that Chet W. Scott’s voice takes a little bit of adjustment, it being a creaky, throaty, otherworldly kind of instrument. It can be a bit off-putting, and I found it that way when I first came to know of Blood of the Black Owl, but I kept with the music and now have come to really like his vocals. They don’t sound like anyone else’s, and they buzz and scrape over the landscape of his songs. Musically, I’ve always enjoyed the thunderous magic Scott creates with this project, and the shape-shifting that’s gone on over four full-length albums now has been organic and enriching.

The latest Blood of the Black Owl opus “Light the Fires!” is the most varied among the band’s full-length albums. It takes what was started on 2010’s “A Banishing Ritual” and stretches it even further. The moments of hulking doom and black metal are few and far between, and most of what you’ll find is a trance-inducing, 1970s-prog-embracing, spiritual journey that examines nature, the state of the environment, and humankind’s role in protecting and demolishing it. I am saying this without the benefit of a lyric sheet, so I’m drawing some conclusions here, but I don’t think I’m far off. What cannot be mistaken is the sound that varies radically from what was on the debut album but also continues to transform this project into one of the more thought-provoking, evolutionary in all of metal. It’s a breath-taking performance.

As is the case with most BotBO albums, the songs on here are really long, quite involved, and demand your undivided attention. The record runs 73 minutes, and trust me, you’ll be exhausted when it’s over. I’ve only sat down and gone front to back with the record in one sitting a handful of times, as I usually dip in, take on a few tracks, get a breather, come back. But that certainly is not to suggest the record is too long, because it is not at all, there is just so much going on, from the droning, shakers, throat buzzing, and ritualistic ooze on opener “Caller of the Spirits”; the trippy, folk-dusted, mesmerizing “Wind Eyes”; psychedelic-laced, melodic, spaced-out “Rise and Shine”; “Soil Magicians,” where hints of doom metal rise to the surface; and closer “Disgust and the Horrible Realization of Apathy,” the most metallic, aggressive song on here, and for good reason as Scott seeks to shake out of their selfish comas those who pay no mind to the Earth’s true condition. It’s an awesome, riveting conclusion to Blood of the Black Owl’s most complete, emotional work yet. Go get this.

As a Pitt football fan, I should hate any band that calls West Virginia home, but alas, I can put that aside for a group as fulfilling as Nechochwen. They, too, have quite a woodsy side to them, and their music can be as calming as it is tumultuous. But as noted before, we’re dealing with two works that have a sense of departure, and the band’s new “double EP” “OtO” may send for a loop fans of the band’s two other full-length displays. Now, we’re not talking a whole new dynamic for this band. They’ve always had a heavy hand toward folk and Native American styles of music, but never more so than what they offer up here. With the exception of the final two songs on this effort, there’s nary a black or death metal note to be found. That said, it’s a really interesting, spacious collection of songs.

The duo conceptually grasps onto themes of ancestral wisdom and native tradition, and while those may sound foreign to such a technologically obsessed society, they ring true to Nechochwen. This is a very emotionally spiritual album, and it’s clear from their playing how deeply they tap into their influences and translate that in their music. The first four songs especially sound like they were dreamt and even performed deep in the forest, where their ancestors once walked, initially planting the seeds for societies that would follow. The lush folk melodies of songs such as opener “Cultivation,” melodic and proggy “On the Wind,” with the refrain, “Do you remember songs they used to sing?” and “Haniipi-miisi (Elm Tree)” and its woodwinds and quiet strumming set the stage and evoke imagery.

The heavier stuff also has quite an impact but never strays from the folk foundation. “He Ya Ho Na” gets punchy and violent, but eventually the band breaks into what sounds like a Native American chant, and trippy guitar work bleeds in to change the scene a bit. It sounds like keyboards, but I’ve been assured it is not. Nice work on that, because it’s really convincing. Closer “Pekikalooletiiwe (Instructions; An Exhortation)” begins calmly enough before exploding into black message rage, furious playing, and then a tranquil finish that lets the smoke from the fires dissipate.

Both of these records are worth your time and monetary investment, and especially with autumn not all that far off, these albums will sound perfect when the air is getting chilly and crisp. But you don’t have to wait. We’ll have more thunderstorms and natural fireworks that can be sound tracked fittingly by these amazing works.

For more on Blood of the Black Owl, go here: http://www.myspace.com/bloodoftheblackowl

For more on Nechochwen, go here: http://nechochwen.com/

To buy the albums, go here: http://bindrunerecordings.com/distro/newarrivals.html

For more on the label, go here: http://bindrunerecordings.com/

To stream either album, go here: http://bindrunerecordings.bandcamp.com/

It’s expected in a category called doom metal that the listener is not expected to feel uplifted while listening to the music. It’s called doom for a reason, in that what you’re hearing is going to be dark, foreboding, and potentially miserably affecting. You should kind of know what you’re getting into.

Obviously from the many, many entries on Meat Mead Metal, it’s clear I enjoy doom metal a great deal. I would guess it sits alongside black metal and the sub-genre in which I indulge the most. But it didn’t really occur to me until recently how little of it really makes me feel dreary and downtrodden. Most of it is incredibly heavy and feels dark and drab, but when it’s over, I don’t often find myself wondering what it’s all for. That’s not a criticism, really, because there has been so much great doom metal recently, much of which would heavily make up a best-of list if 2012 ended today. But not a ton of it reaches that bottom-of-existence plane that often.

And then along come Evoken, with their first set of material since 2007’s “A Caress of the Void” to change all of that. Not since Loss’ “Despond” from last year have I felt this cathartically miserable listening to a record. I don’t consider those emotions as negative. We all face sadness, regret, pain, and despair in our lives, and too often those pitfalls are ignored. Look at mainstream culture. It’s all happiness, gloss, and bubblegum, and really, whose life is really like that? Mine sure as shit isn’t, and I certainly would not say I have a bad life. But those feelings arise sometimes, and if they’re ignored, they keep getting pushed further and further into the back of the mind until one day it becomes too much. Addressing these feelings when they’re on the surface is a healthy way of life, I feel, and Evoken sure sound like they feel the same way.

The band’s incredible new album “Atra Mors” will not make you feel like opening a bottle of bubbly and celebrating life’s many wonders. Instead, it’ll make you address the darkest recesses of existence, the absolute worst of humanity, the most pitiful elements of our daily existence. It’s a coincidence that I spent so much time with this record this past weekend, when so much bad happened, because I had this story planned for this week. But I didn’t want to feel good about things regarding what was going on in the news. It was time for me to grasp the seedy bottom of society and try to make sense of what it is. That’s a shitty, lousy way to spend your time, but ignoring it and pretending it isn’t there is the worse option for me. This music helped me get there and absorb the despair.

Then again, Evoken always have been this way, no matter what’s in the news. Their epic, emotional version of funeral-ready doom metal makes you invest your time and brain to their music, and there’s no taking a quick trip with the band for a speedy turnaround. Their songs are long and crushing, and when one of their records ends, you know you’ve done some serious work. “Atra Mors” (translated from Latin means “black death”) lasts a little over 67 minutes, and you will feel each second of it. Even the two interlude cuts, as lush and gentle as they are, only serve to let you breathe momentarily before diving headfirst into another tarry pool of woe.

I hate to jump toward the end of the record already, but I was overcome by the track “The Unechoing Dread.” This is one of those standout tracks that the moment you hear it, you know you’re onto something special. Vocalist/guitarist John Paradiso goes back and forth from a Tom G. Warrior-style morbid speak-sing on the verses, to a heart-wrenching growl elsewhere, and nowhere is the sense of sadness and madness more pronounced than it is here. The guitar work from Paradiso and Chris Molinari sets the perfect, goth-tinged backing, while Don Zaros’ thick fog synth work spreads like a poison over your body, into your lungs. But this is the second-to-last song on the album, so you have a huge haul before you get to this point. And definitely do NOT jump ahead.

The title track is the opener, with hints of deathrock in the guitar work, a slow, trudging pace, and deliberately unfurled growls. “Descent Into Chaotic Dream” has a clean, seemingly calm intro, but that all folds into an assault of crushed bones of lungs, sitting underneath the enormous weight of this sadness. “Grim Eloquence” reaches into the cosmos for some inspiration, with its slinking programming and an orchestral synth backing, and with about two minutes remaining, all of the hammers are dropped, and they turn this into a dust cloud of devastation. “An Extrinsic Divide” also brings back the deathrock feel, but also dumps noise, hiss, and muddy grit in your lap. Closer “Into Aphotic Devastation” opens with a hint of beauty, as strings are dripped like glaze over a watery melody, but eventually that too is blown to bits by their volcanic tendencies, and the song puts a stunning, bruising exclamation point behind this richly harrowing experience.

Once again, Evoken deliver an incredible platter of true doom the way very few bands pull off these days. There will be tears, frustration, anger, and depression seeping through your pores, and you’ll be better for it when it’s all over. Plus, you will have just witnessed an incredible document that should help the other members of the doom genre find their inner blackness again.

One final note: This is the landmark 100^th release in Profound Lore history. Not sure there could be a more fitting record to encapsulate what that label has meant to metal and delivered by way of dark arts since it began. The first Profound Lore release I ever covered was Amber Asylum’s “Still Point,” the label’s 22^nd release.  We hope to be here to bring you PF release 200, and so on, as well.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Evoken-Official/91505789372

To buy the album, go here: http://www.profoundlorerecords.com/products-page/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.profoundlorerecords.com/

I have a different way of enjoying stoner-related metal than probably most of that genre’s audience: I don’t get high. That’s because I never get high. That’s because I don’t smoke up. That’s because I don’t want to and not because of worries of getting pee tested at work. Plus, as a good friend once wisely told me, “You don’t want to pee tests creative types.” Indeed.

But I think it’s probably assumed by many people that if you listen to stoner rock or metal, you too must be into smoking pot. It’s the same way people interpret the audience for Satanic metal bands, in that if you listen to that style of music, you must be a minion of the underlord. Yeah, or people just like the music, you know? No one has to be sacrificing babies and drinking horse blood in order to justify one’s interest in Weapon or something like that. I feel the same for stoner metal, in that I can be totally in my right mind and still get carried off by the music. And hey, I have no issue with pot smoking whatsoever, I support, it should be legal, do it, do it, do it. It’s just not my thing.

So it’s funny to me that the first time I really indulged in “Monnos,” the debut album by UK doom merchants Conan, I was mowing the lawn. I’m sure most of whatever hearing I lose as I get older will be due to the volume of music that helps me listen while operating a noisy lawnmower, but it’s one of my weird absorption techniques. It’s how I get used to the underneath rhythms and melodies, how the song feels physically, how it rises and falls. Naturally, I gave the record many, many more listens in quiet rooms with headphones and in my car, but even from that first noise-marred experience, I was in full bore with what these dudes do.

Conan is made up of Phil Coumbe on bass/vocals, Jon Davis on guitar/vocals, and Paul O’Neill on drums, and they are a drubbing, punching force. There is something about their tempos and melodies that naturally makes you want to bang your head along to their songs. I don’t mean like Tom Araya. I’m too old to do that, and I would die. No, more like a forceful nod, because you can’t help but do that as these songs unfurl before you in a most calculating manner. They compel you to participate physically like that. They make you move. Slowly. Just like they do. I find that really cool.

“Monnos” also happens to be a really engaging album that slips in, does its damage, and gets out in a little under 40 minutes and six tracks. That’s perfectly sized. I find myself always satisfied with the serving portion here, and though my interest for more is piqued when it’s all over, I neither feel ripped off nor bloated by overconsumption. The songs are really strong, as long as they need to be, and everything works really well as a whole. Also, Coumbe and O’Neill are a devastating rhythm section and create a muddy, pulsating low end that you practically can reach out and grab. They’re awfully good putting up a foundation, and Davis penetrates that cinder block wall with trancey, chugging guitar work.

The dual vocals also make for an interesting layer. You can hear that on opener “Hawk as Weapon” as the sort of monotone higher vocal line and the lower, more gurgly growling act together as a united voice, sending the same message. “Battle in the Swamp” has an awesome doom groove that sets in and moves the ground, as some shrieks and growls add edge to the track and the heavier tempo lets the guys show more muscle. “Grim Tormentor” is my favorite cut on here and has been from the first time I heard the album sans lawnmower noise.  It has a bad-ass, thumping melody that bleeds like a deliberate beating, and the entire thing is a memorable trip that refuses to leave my head. “Golden Axe” pops in and lets some of the tension out of the room, as the instrumental is buzzy, sometimes intricate, and fairly minimal. It works. The final two songs are the longest of the six. “Headless Hunter” is a slow-trudging, massive cut that has a numbing effect and unmistakable stoner vibe, while “Invincible Throne” is deadly and hazy, well thought out, and sometimes thick with noise and hiss. It’s a great way to let this document burn out, with wafts of smoke sweeping into the night. Great finish.

Conan’s first record is a killer, and it sounds like it’s just the beginning of a beautiful, fruitful career. They certainly will appeal to the High on Fire, Sleep fans in the audience, but they have traits all their own and a massive underbelly that separates them from the pack. This is a thunderous force that may sound great if your mind is floating on a different plane but also will beat your ass. I’m excited to hear where these guys go from here.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.hailconan.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://gravedancerrecords.bigcartel.com/

For more on the label, go here: http://gravedancerrecords.com/

And here: http://burningworldrecords.com/

I’m pretty terrible at being on time. That’s half my fault, half the universe’s. I do have a tendency to either get up as late as I possibly can without being tardy or leave at a time that ensures whenever I arrive at my destination, I won’t have to wait around. That often allows life to get in the way and impede my journey, thus causing me to either be late or to arrive frighteningly near the wire. I need to get better at that.

Because of this, I have leniency for people who sometimes cause me to wait longer than I want to. Maybe something came up. Perhaps unforeseen circumstances popped up as they always do and kept the person away. Maybe the person slept in. It happens, and I try to understand. I am probably the best person in the world because of this. I just realized that. That also carries over to music and bands I like that take a super long time to get back to me with new music. No, really, take your time. I’ll be here, but if better be fucking good.

Four years ago after receiving a promo of their debut album from the always trusty 20 Buck Spin, I came to discover and become enamored with Samothrace, a sludgy, bruising metal machine out of the Pacific Northwest that absolutely pummeled me with “Life’s Trade.” From that point, they became one of my favorite new metal bands, one I was dying to see live so I could witness the power and brutality live. Sadly, I have not had the pleasure yet. As time wore on and I kept making regular stops to visit the four-track album, I started wondering what was next and when the day would arrive that I’d have new Samothrace material at my disposal. And I waited. And waited. Seriously, holy shit, are you stuck in a tunnel somewhere? Where are you?! But I asked those questions internally because I like the band and cared enough to get impatient waiting. I guess I’m not such a good person after all.

A few weeks ago, my wait ended when the band’s latest opus “Reverence to Stone” arrived in my inbox. Many times when promos arrive, I let them sit until I’m ready for them. This one I downloaded right away because I needed to hear what they conjured as immediately as I could. I decided I’d listen on my daily 2-mile hate walk so that the music could be properly absorbed and deciphered on a first listen, and when I got back home from my journey, I wasn’t sure what to make of what I heard. Let me explain.

The music was, indeed, wholly satisfying, and I already had singled out sections of the album that stood out for me the most. Also, the quartet sounded in top form, almost like they, too, couldn’t wait to hear what they had in them and needed to get it out as quickly and effectively as possible. On that end, my expectations were totally met and even surpassed a bit. What threw me a little was the brevity of the thing: just two tracks that are over in a little under 35 minutes. And trust me, this thing is over before you know it, which sounds weird to say when you’re tackling one song at 14:19, another at 20:29. I guess I felt a little greedy where I wanted another track or two. Something else to really round out this record. But that also got me to thinking that I was trying to look at this thing based on what’s NOT here instead of what is. And what is contained in these two tracks is some of this band’s best, most cathartic work to date, even more proof they are one of the most criminally under-hyped bands in metal today. I hope I can help change that.

The band remains gargantuanly heavy, as guitarists Brian Spinks and Renata Castagna, bassist Dylan Desmond, and drummer Joe Axler achieve a symmetry and cosmic alignment in their playing. Their songs tell stories, even if Spinks monstrous howl only dips in and out of these songs, limiting the lyrical output to saying just enough. Instead, the plots are moved by the band’s playing, and their spacious, crushing, and emotional style always packs an enormous gut punch. There’s not a solitary moment on “Reverence to Stone” where the band does not deliver, and each subsequent listen has peeled away new layers and made each experience unique.

The first cut “When We Emerged” trickles in serenely, with a nice melodic guitar line setting the stage and preparing you for the tumult you know is ahead. Eventually the crunch drops, the band finds a devastating, sludgy pace, punchier shifts emerge, Spinks wails from the bottom of his heart, and drone and feedback slowly flood the floor, with the tide rising as the song reaches its finale. “A Horse of Our Own” begins with a dark, doomy complexion, and the cut keeps swelling with power before letting its guard down for some atmospherics. This song has an album’s worth of peaks and valleys (dissolving my not-enough-material initial impression), scintillating guitar work and lead play, more emotive growls from Spinks, and some serious drubbing that should shake your brain against your skull walls. The song also has a fairly tumultuous conclusion, with a lurching pace, tortuous noise, and screeching that strike like the planet is being torn apart.

In retrospect, my initial disappointment that “Reverence to Stone” was eclipsed by the quality of the music on here. Who cares how long it is, as long as what’s on here is powerful and moving, which this effort is. This album should put Samothrace’s name on the tongue of every extreme metal fan, underground cultist, and doom disciple. And hopefully for greedy people like me, Samothrace won’t make us wait as long for a follow-up.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Samothrace/67987779185

To buy the album (should be on sale soon), go here: http://www.20buckspin.com/store/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.20buckspin.com/site/

There aren’t many genres like metal where you can have a completely outlandish band name and equally bizarre album title and have that be a selling point. There’s a good reason why Cannibal Corpse was such a huge band in the death metal scene in their early days, and it wasn’t for razor-sharp songs and stellar musicianship.

Having a crazy band name that can turn chalk white the flesh of a conservative music listener isn’t as much a gift as it is really fun. Two of my favorite band names of all time are Gay Witch Abortion and Satanic Bloodspraying. At least in the case of the latter, you probably know exactly what you’re in for as far as the music is concerned, but the former’s a bit trickier. It’s not even metal, actually. I’d also be willing to bet if either band made one of the finest recordings known to humankind and it was universally lauded by critics the world over, neither band would get a nomination for a Grammy Award. They certainly would not have a shot at Album of the Year, and it’s a good chance neither would get a chance at the hard rock/metal category. After all, pretty sure there will be a Soulfly or Metallica recording to nominate.

OK, so never mind the rest of the world. We do a damn good job of that every day at this site. Only a true metal fan could walk into a store, find a record by the band Bestial Holocaust called “Into the Goat Vulva” and walk out totally excited to get the bastard into a CD player. There’s a pocket of people who would want to intervene on the buyer’s behalf and take said person to therapy. They wouldn’t even begin to be able to dissect what this Bolivian black metal/thrash/death band bleeds onto their albums, and that would provide much amusement for me. And I’m sure the band.

So today we’re tackling Bestial Holocaust’s third full-length album and follow-up to 2009’s “Temple of Damnation,” a fairly tame title in comparison to the new one. There’s nothing of redeeming moral value here, and if you have any sensitivity to overt Satanism and blasphemy, this likely isn’t the thing for you. Personally, I find any aversion to or fear of Satanic metal very funny. Just because you listen to it doesn’t mean you have to join a cult or perform a human sacrifice or plan for eternity in hell or whatever. You can just like the music for what it is, and what this band puts out there is some of the better underground madness you’ll hear this summer.

This hellacious machine starts with Sonia Sepulcral, who handles vocals for this trio. Her voice is infernal, demonic, and at times painfully raw, and every word she says, even if I don’t understand the language in which they’re delivered, made an impact on me. She’s really great at what she does, and she would have sounded right at home had she emerged with the first wave of black metal. Guitarist Satanael and drummer The Dead more than hold their own by offering up abrasive, savage, often speedy metal that’ll leave brush burns on your entire body.

Once you tear into opening cut “Dios Despiadado,” you know that business has picked up pretty effectively. The song feels primitive and barbaric (is that redundant?), and while Sepulcral’s vocals certainly stand out and carry you, they also don’t dominate the song. It’s also pretty catchy, truth be told. “Eterna Posesión” is speedy and punk-flavored, with monstrous growls and meat-ripping tendencies. “Virgin Lust” is pretty damn fast, too, with some dizzying guitar work and an outright suffocating vocal assault. “Demonios Devoradores” has a doomy introduction and feels dark and filthy, but that doesn’t last long after the flood gates open and a relentless tidal wave overtakes you. “Premoniciones” is more thrashy than the other songs, with some throat-mangling growl eruptions that sound like they’re trying to out-menace Tom G. Warrior; “Tierra de Apariencies” puts its foot on your throat, with Sepulcral practically regurgitating her growls into your prone body; “Eterna Transmigración” opens with blast beats and furious guitar work, and it has quickly become one of my favorite tracks on this album; and closer “Sacrificio” is a dizzying flurry of metal, with Sepulcral absolutely going for the kill with her vocals, making sure you don’t soon forget her once the album finally loosens its grip.

Bestial Holocaust is the epitome of ugliness and hellish horror, and despite all that blackness, they’re also unquestionably catchy. They write solid songs with melodies, and then they unload that music into unquenchable fire for the proper touch of evil. This may not be for every metal fan’s tastes, but for those who like things as infernally underground as possible, you can’t deny this band fulfills your wishes.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.myspace.com/bestialholocaust

To buy the album, go here: http://www.amazon.com/Into-Goat-Vulva-Bestial-Holocaust/dp/B0085P1AN8/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1342554567&sr=8-1&keywords=bestial+holocaust

For more on the label, go here: http://ironbonehead.de/

And here (strictly for U.S. distribution): http://metalhit.com/

It seems like every other person is into something vintage. Clothes, lamps, cars, music, equipment, food. OK, not food. Old food is gross and dangerous and can land you in the hospital. I know someone who can attest to that personally. He didn’t learn his lesson either.

But vintage has been something going on with music the last decade or so. Old sounds are being embraced, aged equipment is being used in studios to capture the essence of an era (take Opeth and Witchcraft as two more recent examples), and even clothing styles from the past are being embraced again. Personally, I love seeing back patch-emblazoned jean jackets on people’s backs again, if only because I grew up dressing that way and it instills in me a sort of nostalgia. No wonder no one in my preppy high school would talk to me. Fuck them, anyway.

Metal has not been immune to this movement, witness the amount of bands trying their hands as bringing back power metal, the early waves of black metal, and, of course, thrash. Those thrash kids haven’t fared too well with me. There are a hundred too many, and almost none of them get it right. Nor do they understand what they’re trying to mimic, and maybe that’s just me being old and getting pissed that today’s bands don’t quite have the same touch as the ones who shaped my tastes. But I don’t think I’m wrong.

But now and again a band comes along and gets it right, really nailing the sound they’re aiming to create. Brooklyn’s Natur is one that, to me, get it right. They’re not really zeroing in on an exact moment or genre per se. Instead, they’re going for something they sum up nicely below their name on their Facebook page: old metal. That’s what this sounds like. It’s dusty and scratchy and epic and true, and they sound like they have a ton of old Iron Maiden, Metallica, Judas Priest, and Mercyful Fate albums spread about their practice space. They remind me a bit of Sweden’s In Solitude, only less bombastic and not so, I don’t know, put on? I feel what these guys accomplish on “Head of Death” is way closer to what I remember feasting on in high school, and that’s half of what clinched it for me. The other half is their tremendous execution.

The band members go by some pretty wacky monikers. The fellows in charge of this galloping beast are Weibust on lead vocals and rhythm guitar; Dino Destroyer on lead guitar; Sound Mound on bass; and, of course, Tooth Log on drums. Tooth Log is the name that intrigues me the most. No offense on the other fellows. They also pull out some bizarre song titles here and there such as “Goblin Shark,” that comes dressed in New Wave of British Heavy Metal-style guitars, and some Maiden-esque fire, and “Spider Baby,” a name that I once called my cat before she bulked up to full size. This track is a weird, silly anthem that sounds like something Alice Cooper could get along with, at least lyrically. Admittedly, someone who already finds classic metal funny probably won’t be swayed by these details. But who cares? Who needs them?

The one thing about Natur that took the most adjustment is Weibust’s singing. He’s not the most charismatic guy in the world, though he’s not dead or anything, and sometimes I wish he had a little more fire behind his vocals. He does just fine, don’t get me wrong, and he often reminds me of a less shrieky James Hetfield in his early years, but it took me a little while to warm up to his approach. I’ve come around a bit. The rest of the band is tight and has a grasp on the vintage feel, and it does make me feel nostalgic for the era of my youth. If you didn’t grow up with this style, you’ll still be able to enjoy a rock-solid metal album.

The title cut opens with a baby crying and a NWOBHM assault, barked vocals, and chugging riffs that are really fun to hear explode out of your speakers, and “The Messenger” follows with a cool riff, a theme of the dead rising from the grave, and some fast playing. “Decion” is where Weibust sounds most like Hetfield (it’s scary at times how similar his phrasing is), and the texture to the song feels like an old thrash number that eventually gets treated with cleaner guitar lines that bring some clarify to the destruction; “The Servant” is a cool, Maiden-style instrumental, and that blows into “Vermin,” that opens with an aggressive bassline, leans into some speedy guitar work, and has an aura that reminds me of Mötley Crüe from their “Too Fast for Love” era. Closer “Mutilation in Maine” is a strong epic with assorted, dynamic tempo shifts, a haunting storyline, and pure metal goodness that may seem a little wacky, but that’s what makes metal so much fun.

Natur’s debut has grown on me the more I’ve heard it, and I’m getting a lot of mileage out of these songs. It also got me to dig back into my record collection to find the albums that helped shaped my youth and everlasting love for heavy metal. This band’s sound is true, and they may be the ones to reverse the staleness of so many young bands trying to conjure something from an era in which they didn’t exist. Natur gets it, and it’s almost like they’ve been there all along.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.facebook.com/NATURHEAVYMETAL

To buy the album, go here: http://earache.com/uswebstore/index.php/cPath/667_672_753

For more on the label, go here: http://earache.com/

We metal fans are a judgmental bunch. We’re harsh, have gigantic expectations, and we are let down far too easily because we paint pictures in our minds of how things are supposed to be before whatever we’re imagining even surfaces. It’s kind of the fun of the genre, but it’s also one of the things that frustrates me the most.

But just because many of us jump to conclusions doesn’t mean we’re necessarily wrong. At least as far as it concerns being true to ourselves and our tastes. I’ve been there. I, like many a listener, waited with great anticipation for that new Morbid Angel album, and when “Illud Divinum Insanus” dropped, I was so disappointed that I wanted to disown any previous affection for them no matter how great they once were. A band more comparable to today’s discussion is Mastodon, who have completely lost my interest the past two records. I don’t damn them for changing and wanting to branch out; I just don’t think their music is nearly as good as it was when they were bludgeoning sludge warriors more than half a decade ago. I really tried to get with their new stuff, but I just can’t.

This brings us to Baroness, and I’m sure you’ve already read the umpteen million stories out there about how their new album “Yellow & Green” is a major departure and bears practically no resemblance to metal. That’s all pretty true. It’s a huge change, though I hesitate to say a radical one because you could hear strains of progression on “Blue Record” that seemed to hint they were heading in more of a traditional rock direction. And here we are. The 18-cut double record is the most varied, expansive of their career, and it’s the most unique-sounding album in Relapse’s entire catalog. That’s simply because most of their bands are beastly and heavy, and Baroness now decidedly are not. Whether you, as a listener, choose to embrace this new direction is up to you, but lack of metallic tendencies aside, don’t dismiss this based on decibel level. Doing so would be an error.

“Yellow & Green” was a shock to the system at first, despite having heard a couple of the tracks before getting the full-length promo stream. Having spent plenty of time with “Red Album” and “Blue Record,” I did have a knee-jerk response at first that this isn’t the style of music that made me love this band. Yet there was something about the songs that seemed to be hooking me anyway, and I’ve come to realize that’s because the material is really strong. These are really good songs, the best front-to-back compositions of their run, and the more time I’ve spent with this collection, the less I cared about how metal they are. More than anything, I want a record that’s well played, well written, and well executed, and I don’t know that Baroness could have done any better than they do here. This is a band that has morphed past their roots, and making them stay within genre confines would have stunted the growth of some really gifted musicians. So now I’m glad they went this route. I don’t have nearly enough great straight-up rock records, but now I have an exceptional one that’s occupying my time.

Lots have changed in Baroness’ world as well. For one, the dudes are a few years older, and time tends to mellow your rage. It’s not a bad thing to admit that, and doing so have helped the fellows — vocalist/guitarist/artist John Baizley, guitarist Peter Adams, drummer Alan Blickle, and new bassist Matt Maggioni (replacing Summer Welch) — progress and advance to the next stage in their careers. As noted, they had a lineup switch, and Baizley also moved from Savannah, Georgia, to Philadelphia. Things have been on the move, and their music reflects that. It’s a very human sounding, reflective collection as a result. It never sounds like this is an effort that’s put on to be more accessible or secure a larger record deal now that their contract with Relapse is up. This record would have sounded this way no matter what , at least that’s my guess.

There also is quite a difference between the “Yellow” and “Green” sides, so these really are like two separate albums joined together. “Yellow” sounds like a natural progression from “Blue,” with some might and grit you come to expect, but also with more melody, hooks, and approachability that could get them plum spots on rock radio playlists. If any of those people still pay attention. “Green” sounds like a progression from “Yellow,” with the songs stripped back even more, psychedelic atmospherics taking a major role, and more of an indie rock approach rising. On this portion, Baroness sound like a band that could open for Built to Spill or Wilco without those bands’ audiences feeling like they’ve been hit over the head. It’s quite a dynamic leap ahead for Baroness, even if it pisses off major metalheads with closed minds.

After a chiming little opening theme, “Yellow” kicks into high gear with “Take My Bones Away” and “March to the Sea,” the two tracks made most public by the band pre-release and two of the best songs they’ve ever written. Both will get stuck in your head for days on end, and again, if they could get radio play, they’d be two of the biggest hits of the summer. They both punch and chug along nicely, and Baizley sounds as confident as ever barking and crooning over top. “Little Things” is a scathing little psychedelic number, taking some hints from the 1960s, and Baizley solemnly offers, “They’ve taken everything, put us out to dry.” “Cocanium” has an ultra-trippy opening, but once the chorus rolls around and the song stretches its legs, things get more aggressive. “Back Where I Belong” is a damn solid serving of pure rock, with some of Baizley’s best vocal work, and it bleeds nicely into “Sea Lungs,” where some of their doomy, sludgy roots poke through. Closer “Eula” has moments of volcanic eruption and reflection, and it’s the longest track on the entire collection. The thing ends with a dizzying display of guitar work and some sizzling noise that lets “Yellow” burn away.

“Green Theme” opens up as a more bombastic cut than “Yellow Theme,” with some Brian May-style guitar phrasing and a more up-tempo journey, but it’s a red herring. “Board Up the House” is pretty damn poppy and doesn’t contain the typical Baroness edginess, but it’s a really strong song despite all of that. “Mtns. (the Crown & Anchor)” is sunburnt and static-filled, and it feels like a perfect song for an afternoon drive on a summer week day. “Foolsong” feels like ’70s-style singer-songwriter folk rock, with a nice psychedelic wash for good measure.

“Collapse” continues the slow-down, with Baizley singing, “We are all soured milk,” over a melody that’s pretty damn chill. “Psalms Alive” is the only song on here that hasn’t made a huge impression on me. It has the indie stylings and eventually crumbles into chaos, but it’s just OK. “Stretchmarker” is an acoustic number with guitars having a conversation and some Midwestern dreaming tossed into the mix. “The Line Between” is the heaviest song on this side of the record, with doomy chugging mixed with classic rock strumming that gives the track a neat feel. “If I Forget Thee, Lowcountry” is a quiet instrumental closer that ends the record with a heartful sigh and streaming tear. It’s about as non-Baroness a song as you’ll find. Well, until now.

I am fascinated to hear the reaction to “Yellow & Green.” So far fellow metal critics seem overjoyed with the collection, and I join with them in that sentiment. I ask you, the readers, to put aside any prejudice and consider these songs on their artistic merit. This is an incredible, career-defining statement, and while it steers sharply away from the sludgy, doomy past, there is what was in their hearts. It’s honest and real, and most importantly, the songs are fantastic. This is one hell of an accomplishment, perhaps their first step toward an organic stardom.

For more on the band, go here: http://baronessmusic.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.relapse.com/yellow-green-2xcd.html

For more on the label, go here: http://www.relapse.com/

We all come across things in our lives that become obsessions.  But how do we pay homage to those things and how do we choose to enjoy the items that add value to our lives? There are many ways, and it’s hard to argue any manner is wrong. That is unless your fixation is illegal. Then pretty much any way of enjoying it is wrong. Pretty sure I didn’t need to point that out.

Like, OK, you love photography. That means you can fill physical and digital albums with your work and show it to everyone you know, most likely annoying them. You don’t want to be that person. Or, you could become overtaken by a sports team and fill your game room with paraphernalia and souvenirs, likely ostracizing your significant other and preventing people from wanting to visit you during games. I don’t know why I chose to make this a negative. It’s just the way things go sometimes. Oh, hey, you could become obsessed with heavy metal and devote overflowing essays to the music you like.

Swedish band Witchcraft acknowledged their obsession with American doom rock legends Pentagram and singer-songwriter Roky Erickson by trying their hands at similarly styled music as a one-off tribute. Most of the music at the start was their own, some of it penned by Bobby Liebling on Pentagram records, all of it designed to tip their caps to their primary influences. Then things got out of control, in a really good way. It became a full-blown band, and now Witchcraft are one of the most well-respected vintage-style doom units going, and they have a heavily anticipated new release “Legend” scheduled later this year on Nuclear Blast. Maybe one day some young kids will be inspired by Witchcraft’s music and return the favor to them, continuing the circle well into the future. But that’s for the future.

Before “Legend” drops, we have a matter of Witchcraft business to get out of the way, namely the reissue of their first three albums by Metal Blade. These collections, as noted, are highly respected releases and, while sounding as if they were jettisoned to modern times via time warp, they also have a weird timelessness to them as well. And that the whole thing started primarily to honor their heroes, it’s incredible how great the band already sounds on their debut and how much they grow with subsequent efforts. It’s easy to hear this was no mere tribute band. And now they’re way more than just Pentagram disciples.

If you’re new to Witchcraft’s music or just need to get your collection in order, these reissues will be of much value to you. They haven’t been impossible to find before this (at least for me they haven’t), but Metal Blade always does a bang-up job with these missions, so you know grabbing these new versions will be worth your money. And for me, revisiting these albums has paved the way for a Witchcraft renassaince for me, and I plan to enjoy these songs over glasses of spirits on weekend evenings. They’re perfect for that.

Obviously we’ll begin with their 2004 self-titled debut, released by the stellar Rise Above. Actually, all three of these records were put out by that label, and they work closely with Metal Blade, so yeah. You see the union. Anyhow, this first record was recorded on vintage equipment, and damn it if the songs don’t totally reflect the ’60/’70s doom-folk era. The songs sound catchy and foreboding, dark and magical, and the band has a style and songwriting knack that makes them sound of that era, and not mere throwbacks. The band’s music is like a weird amalgamation of Pentagram, Black Sabbath and The Animals, and once you hear the words, “Witchcraft, take one,” at the start of this record, you know you’re in for a dark journey.

“The Snake” has a pure Sabbath influence, both musically and with Magnus Pelander’s vocals; their cover of “Please Don’t Forget Me,” penned by Liebling, is stunning and true; “What I Am” is like a fireside dirge; “No Angel or Demon” has a bit of Southern rock flavor, something that would return here and there on future releases; “It’s So Easy” is poppy and has a ’90s alt-rock feel; “You Bury Your Head” is a blues-based rocker that is the most aggressive piece on here; and closer “Her Sisters They Were Weak” weaves folk and tragic storytelling into things. It’s a stimulating close to an impressive debut.

The band’s second album “Firewood” followed a year later, and noticeable from the start is the change in production. Their songwriting and approach still boasted ’60s/’70s pride, but the songs didn’t have a dated, dusty feel to them like they did on their debut. It’s up to you if that’s a drawback, but it never bothered me any. In fact, their creative growth is what makes me most excited about this album. If there’s any complaint from me, it’s the album art. Really? That’s the best you could come up with?

The record gets off to a great start with a nice one-two punch of “Chylde of Fire” and “If Wishes Were Horses,” a strangely titled song, but one that has the band showing some serious fire, especially when Pelander howls, “We’re so easily controlled/Perhaps that’s what you want to be.” “Mr. Haze” is cool and jazzy, something that hinted to what was ahead on their next album; “Queen of Bees” is slow moving and slithery, bringing back the Sabbath spirit; “Merlin’s Daughter” is a cool instrumental that reminds me of Jethro Tull; and closer “Attention!/When the Screams Come” is a combo number of a Witchcraft original intersected by a Pentagram cover. The union of the two tracks is quite seamless, and it’s yet another tribute to Liebling.

“The Alchemist,” the band’s third and most recent record, landed in 2007 and got a bit more play in America due to its release by Candlelight domestically. In my opinion, it’s their strongest piece of work, as the songs get longer and more confident, the sense of adventure grows, and the band fires on all cylinders as artsist, making some of their most memorable songs to date. As much as I like all of Witchcraft’s work, this is the record of theirs I have listened to the most over the years and it is hand down my favorite.

The main guitar line to opener “Walk Between the Lines” has been burned into my brain ever since I got my original promo copy five years ago, and I also haven’t been able to shake “If Crimson Was Your Colour,” a track with punchy guitar riffs, trippy keyboard work, and some downright Danzig-like yelps from Pelander. It’s also quite noticeable how he grew as a frontman over the band’s years together. “Lena” is slinky and cool but also picks up on a dirty garage rock riff that keeps the edges rough; “Samaritan Burden” is a psychedelic jam that unfurls quite nicely; “Remembered” has its share of Southern and Midwestern rock in its DNA, which makes for a nice, sunburnt curveball, and the inclusion of some sax is quite fitting; and the closing epic title track is more than 11 minutes of pure doom sorcery, with Pelander not-so-subtly insisting, “I can blow your mind.” This album sure does.

Witchcraft are one of the modern bands doing right for roots of doom metal, and they continue to blaze the path started by their heroes. These three records are must-hear for any fan of the genre, and they’ll set the table nicely for whatever the band conjured on their fourth record later this year.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.witchcrafthome.com/

To buy the albums, go here: http://www.indiemerchstore.com/item/14956/

Here: http://www.indiemerchstore.com/item/14954/

And here: http://www.indiemerchstore.com/item/14955/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.metalblade.com/english/content.php

And here: http://www.riseaboverecords.com/

I grew up a huge fan of professional wrestling, much to the chagrin of my parents and just about everyone around me that I bombarded with my passion, and it’s an obsession that certainly has died hard over the last decade as the product has turned to garbage. I guess it’s not totally dead. I did subject myself to it this past Monday. Less said the better.

Anyway, when I was a kid and would daydream about my ring-tested heroes, I’d often think about dynamic tag team combinations that could be put together to rule the world. Hulk Hogan and Andre the Giant! Ric Flair and Bret Hart! Kamala and Abdullah the fucking Butcher! If only these men could come together and become the incredible wrestling forces I knew they could be, they would dominate tag team wrestling and hold whatever titles they wanted for as long as they chose. No one clued my ass in to the fact it was all fake and how these things would never be, but a kid can dream.

That brings me to The Howling Wind, a formidable cross-country-connected black metal outfit that is herculean and unstoppable. If they could be compared to a tag team, it would have to be the mid-1980s, heel version of the Road Warriors. Scary, menacing, relentless killing machines that would tear your face off or flip you upside down onto your neck after a clothesline from the top rope. And while the Warriors were respected by audiences of a worked sport, the dudes who make up the Howling Wind — Ryan Lipynsky of the late, great Unearthly Trance and Tim Call of the mighty Aldebaran, among others — are very much for real. Their music is a dark, brooding monster that is out to slay and leave tangible bruises and real blood in their wake. They combine their intense skills to make for a devastating union that has proved its might over five years together.

We now mark the release of the Howling Wind’s third studio album, the impressively massive “Of Babalon.” It follows up the band’s last effort “Into the Cryosphere,” that dropped two years ago, and adds another element of concrete girth to the band’s already impressive collection of heaviness. It’s a record that’s instantly pleasing, one that doesn’t need time to set moods or atmospheres in your mind. Instead, it goes in for the kill, never looking behind to see if anything is following and never concerned that they might be doing irreparable damage to your psyche. From the start, you’re beaten. The metal is melodic, swirling, and storming, and Call’s drumming is precise and furious. He’s not just throwing a bunch of blasts and speed out there to do it. No, he has a plan, and it’s well executed.

Majesty and fire open the record on “The Seal Upon the Tomb,” a song with a surging guitar line, Lipynsky’s trademark scowling vocals, and a whole lot of darkness. “Beast of the Sea” is a fit, trim crusher, built with blistering guitar riff and a violent, criminal brutality. It’s the song that gets stuck in my head the easiest of this collection. “Graal” is a really savage cut, but there’s also a slight hint of approachability to it. Same goes for “Scaling the Walls,” a song that reminds me of Nachtmystium a few albums back (and on the one they’re about to release), and truth be told, it’s pretty damn catchy and fun. I feel weird typing that when recapping such a punishing record. But you need your peaks and valleys to keep things exciting, and this one is a nice injection of energy.

“The Mountain View” starts off fairly reflective, but you know that’s not going to last. Sure enough, a punk-emblazoned assault breaks out, guitar lines rise like the tide, and the whole thing gets washed out in a war-like assault. “Abominations and Filth” is a power ballad. OK, it obviously isn’t. It’s jerky with some rock-solid drumming, a bit of a pulled-back tempo, and eventually it blasts like a rocket into bleakness. “Chronozon” starts off with an off-kilter guitar line but eventually moves into a surgical guitar line, some chest-bruising double-kick drumming, and a sudden tempo shift toward the end that somehow makes the song heavier and thrashier. “Gateways” has a similar feel, with the addition of some buzzing guitar work, a bit of atmosphere, a repetitious exercise in riffing, and a gazey melt-away. Then there’s a record-capping surprise, that being their blood-curdling cover of Hellhammer’s “Horus/Aggressor,” that actually makes the piece seem more deadly and devious than the deranged original. That’s not easy to pull off.

These two might as well pack on some 10-inch spike shoulder pads, spider web face paint, and the fucking black metal tag team titles, because there aren’t many duos who make music this massive and heavy. Three albums in, these guys haven’t gasped a breath of disappointment, and they just keep getting better and more muscular. They’re dragging you into the dark for a severe beating, and there’s nothing you can do to get away.

For more on the band, go here: http://sincontinuum.blogspot.com/

To buy the album, go here: http://www.profoundlorerecords.com/products-page/plr-items/the-howling-wind-of-babalon/

For more on the label, go here: http://www.profoundlorerecords.com/

Have you been out in this heat at all, my fellow Americans? Yikes. Not fun times at all. Going outside has been like breathing inside a boiling pot of soup for the last week, and just going out for the mail has been reason enough alone to take a shower. Maybe three showers. If you didn’t have air conditioning during this thing, my condolences go out to you.

The last week or so has made me feel nasty, gritty, sticky, unkempt. I didn’t want to go around people in public because I just felt like a ball of sweat and misery, not that I was alone in this way of thinking. It was shitty. You just felt scuzzy all over, like you have this film of filth coating you that you couldn’t remove no matter how hard you tried. It just became a part of who you were, and you lived with it.

It’s a little cooler now where I live (though still too warm to take the dog for a walk before sunset) but it’s far more comfortable today. That said, those days of hell bathing instantly came back to me when I was trying to put my thoughts together about the debut effort “Goes to Purgatory” from Jar’d Loose, a Chicago band that’s as filthy and muggy as they come. Their music sounds dirty, like you’d need a nice disinfectant bath when you are done with it, and the songs’ bad attitude and refusal to say anything nice about anything kind of made me feel a little dirty inside. All of that is a compliment, by the way, in case it did not sound like one. Dirty is good.

Jar’d Loose don’t really sound like many other metal bands touring the dark clubs, basements, VFW halls, and other assorted small venues in which these types of groups inhabit. In fact, calling them metal is a little out of focus, though there is some of that here. Comprised of members of assorted Chicago-based bands, most notably The Muzzler, the band notes influences such as Jesus Lizard, Helmet, Dwarves, and Entombed. Got to be totally honest here: I hear zero Entombed in their music. Not an ounce. The other three bands? Totally. Like, by a huge amount. I’ll throw a couple more bands out there: Kylesa, Faster Pussycat. Don’t log off after reading that last name. Maybe it’s just me, but I hear a huge sleaze glam influence, mostly with Eddie Gobbo’s vocals, that makes me think of better-get-an-STD-test hard rock that you can’t help but love if only just for the worry-about-our-decisions-later attitude. We’re not talking about songs about banging hookers, just so we’re clear.

Speaking of Gobbo, there’s a chance his vocals will annoy you if you’re not ready for them. They’re sneery and snotty, and they’d sound great in front of a gutter punk band. Well, I guess you could argue Jar’d Loose do that too. There also are elements of grunge and psychedelic wailing to what this band does, and their stuff may take a little adjustment. Nothing wrong with that. Something this unsanitary always is going to need time to fester. By the way, the other culprits crushing your hearing and resolve on this album are drummer Phil Hardman, guitarist Pete Adam Bialecki, and bassist Eva Bialecki. They’re formidable.

“Purgatory” kicks off with “Last Living Roach,” a crunchy, raspy rocker that appears to speak of the world’s most indestructible creature. Gross? Yeah. But you kind of have to respect them. “Rotten Tooth” has a raucous chorus that’ll stick in your head for days. It’s a smoldering, pissy song that has hooks that’ll infect. “Appendage” has a punchy start-stop riff built into it, while Gobbo shout-sings his diatribes. Side note: Gobbo is wearing an ECW shirt in the band’s promo. I wonder how he feels about the late-00s “resurrection” of said wrestling organization. I wonder if he thinks it was as shitty as I thought it was. Moving on …

“Busted” is a lot of fun and, in a way, it’s the angriest, heaviest song on this thing. I say “in a way” because I don’t really mean because of volume or speed. It just hits harder than the rest, with Gobbo shouting, “She’s never going to be the one you want/You’ll collect dust from all the shit she’s got built up.” No wondering or deep pontificating over what that means. “Hell’s Mother” has a lot of that filthy glam feel I mentioned earlier, and that takes you into pounder “Right Eyes,” where Gobbo insists, “No shame needs no forgiveness.” It gets kind of gross, too. “Go Down With You” is trippy and muddy; while closer “Coming Like a Nightmare” packs a conclusive fury and sounds ready to rip your face off, but listen closely. There’s a nice little melody buried underneath it all. How soothing.

Jar’d Loose probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea. Or broken glass of bottom-shelf spirits. But it’s nice to get dirty once in a while, take a roll in the sludge, and not shower for three days. It’s how we’re bound to feel as this summer continues to heat up, but Jar’d Loose are way more fun than 103 degrees and no AC. In fact, my guess is they thrive in those conditions, like those godforsaken cockroaches.

For more on the band, go here: http://www.facebook.com/pages/Jard-Loose/262509087096541

To buy the album, go here: http://cassettedeckmedia.net/shop/

For more on the label, go here: http://cassettedeckmedia.net/