Turbonegro

Turbonegro have disbanded and reformed enough times during their 20-year career that it’s hard not think of them as anything more than Norwegian boys crying wolf. A hard truth considering the importance of their work and legendary status as one of the best, most seminal (in both senses of the word) rock n’ roll bands on the planet during that time. When they managed to stay together, that is. But the issues surrounding their hiatuses — most notably Hank Von Helvete’s personal problems — have been addressed, and with Hank’s departure evidently permanent this time, the band enters yet another phase of ass-blasting deathpunk with new singer Tony Sylvester, the Duke of Nothing. As far as Turbonegro res-erections go, this one’s a real rager, the strongest yet, and any eye-lined man in a denim sailor suit lamenting the loss of the chubby dude need only recall how the addition of Euroboy gave us the sheer genius that is 1998′s Apocalypse Dudes, so change can be a good thing. In fact, Sylvester brings a gritty, cutting edge to Turbonegro’s nihilistic glam sleaze that you never knew was missing until it takes you out back of the bar and throttles you. Euroboy’s million dollar riffs figure as prominently as ever before, their arena-oriented eccentricity the glorious steam that makes this party engine run, specifically on the album’s most explosive bombs “Shake Your Shit Machine,” “Mister Sister,” “Tights Jeans, Loose Leash,” “Rise Below,” and “You Give Me Worms” but Sylvester, for his part, reigns it in and drags it underground, putting his raw n’ greasy, English hooligan spin on things, the dark twists of “I Got a Knife,” “Hello Darkness,” “TNA (The Nihilistic Army),” “Dude Without a Face,” and “Buried Alive” pure savage action. I don’t know how long this Turbonegro era will last, but it’s off to one amazing start.

Listen to “You Give Me Worms” from Sexual Harassment!

Royal Thunder

Royal Thunder have been on my radar for awhile now, their name often sneaking into my periphery here and there rather innocuously. My beardy sense would tingle every time I saw it. So, needless to say, I’m finally glad to be rid of the suspicious anticipation and to be taking the Atlanta band head on, lock, stock, and golden rod. Their full-length debut, CVI, is a moving target of dark blues, psych-metal, and hellish hard rock, but the obvious talking point is most definitely front-woman Mlny Parsonz, whose dominating slash n’ burn vocal presence grabs all them ravenous riffs by the throat and carries them to certain glory. CVI is bold smoky boogie business, kind of like The Devil’s Blood, Christian Mistress, Die Mannequin, and Spiders all at once — yes, partly because Parsonz reminds me of F. The Mouth of Satan, Christine Davis, Care Failure, and Ann-Sofie Hoyles, but also because of the ritual, iron, blood, and sleaze — that delivers punchy scorchers like “Whispering World” and “No Good” and epic movers like “Shake and Shift, “Blue,” and “Drown” with the same heavy intentions and dauntless desire. When it comes to fanning the flames of rock n’ roll, CVI is one big, bad-ass bellows.

Listen to “Whispering World” from CVI!

In the Company of Serpents

I’m not sure what’s more surprising, that it’s 2012 and I’m reviewing a goddamn cassette or that I actually still have something on which I can play a goddamn cassette. Yes, I know tapes are all the rage right now, especially amongst trendy vagrants and DIY low-lifes, and I’ve reviewed plenty of albums that have been released on ‘em, but until now no one has actually been crazy enough to send me one. Which is why I loathe and love In the Company of Serpents at the same time. I’m doing my best to phase out CDs, so now that I have to make room for a tape irks me to no end. On the other hand, I can’t really think of a better vehicle for which to disseminate this acetone rot. In fact, I might just slap on my denim vest, shove this compact deck of tar pit tone into my pocket, and wander the streets looking for some lucky dope in a Yob or Eyehategod shirt to be the recipient of my evil pay-it-forward scheme. I’ll slap this bitch into his or her bony hand, give them the ol’ serpent stare, and send them on their way. Can’t do that with an mp3. However, now that I’m listening to Denver duo Grant Netzorg (baritone guitar/vocals) and JJ Anselmi (drums) whip up their Satanic drug fuzz, I’m not so certain that I won’t rip the magnetically coated black devil string from its protective white case when its done and take a match to it. Sacrifice it to the bastard doom gods for whom this was surely made. Whatever I decide will make somebody’s day, that’s for sure.

Listen to In the Company of Serpents by In the Company of Serpents!

Ides of Gemini

Simply savage, Ides of Gemini move like a shadow across the cold marble floor of a vast and empty hall ruled by some imperious lord, a subtle tremble of force both demented and elegant. Constantinople, the L.A. trio’s full length debut, which features reworked versions of the four songs on their 2010 EP The Disruption Writ, is a spellbinding mix of dark psych- drone and ambient doom that draws considerable strength out of its underwhelming action. Much of this has to do with the vocal prowess of Black Math Horseman’s Sera Timms, whose effectual, gothic taunts hypnotize and bind you, but when combined with the guitar work of J. Bennett (music journalist for such publications as Decibel, Terrorizer, Revolver, Alternative Press and Thrasher) and the drumming and backing vocals of Kelly Johnston, which drag you in and push you ahead, respectively, it’s stands as a lifetime of captivity in the belly of the beast. Constantinople has a tendency to be derivative and waning (you can tune out and back in at any point and not have missed much), but it’s still full of stirring dirges nonetheless.

Listen to “Slain In Spirit” from Constantinople!

Kadavar

The proto-metal, hard rock, and psych blues bands of the late 60s and 70s had the best production and sound ever. Ever. It was all raw and fuzzy with the richest, choicest tone. And it was heavy. So heavy. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about chucking my entire record collection saving only anything from that era. If all I had left to listen to was Bedemon, Black Sabbath, JPT Scare Band, Master’s Apprentices, Sir Lord Baltimore, and all the rest, I’d be more than okay. But then I’d miss out on the new crop, the revivalists, the intrepid longhairs of the ol’ groove n’ doom. In fact, not only could I not bear to part with retro riffers Graveyard, Witchcraft, Asteroid, Orchid, Horisont, and Dead Man, but I find myself actually adding to the pile, and the latest muttonchop’d magicians to throw their ’71 spells at me is the German power trio Kadavar. There’s not much I can tell you about this six-song debut that my earlier comparisons or the picture on the cover don’t already exquisitely detail, but this here Berlin boogie is full of deep-wood ritual and macabre madness, a completely fresh take on an old sound where each instrument struts and screams in harmony with one another in an unspeakably glorious yet petrified fashion. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I believe this kind of stuff is all I need.

Listen to “Goddess of Dawn” from Kadavar!

Dog Shredder

You know, Brass Tactics, the new three-song 12″ from the Bellingham, Washington trio Dog Shredder, has really gorgeous cover art (courtesy of John J. Overly). Sure, there’s a skull, but it’s delicately done and hardly diminishes the heart-swell of delights evoked by the flowers, faery, and fair-haired maiden. The pastoral scene is certainly in direct contrast to the band name, but it’s not so jarring as to turn you away; it’s only when confronted with the noise contained within that you feel like a victim. A dope. A rube whose good taste and judgement has just been taken advantage of, whose sweet, golden spirit has been tragically wiped out by an uncontrollable force of guerrilla filth. The frenetic outpouring of crack-jaw metal found on Brass Tactics is barely half the running time of Dog Shredder’s 2010 two-song Boss Rhino EP, so the neuro-fuck of battle cubed (that’s “Battle Toad,” “Battle Snake,” and “Battle 07″) presents itself as a more focused kind of deconstruction. Focused or not, though, it’s still high voltage trash compactor rock, its blows so quick and wicked that not even the demented lounge-psych of “Battle 07″ or the beautiful cover can soften ‘em up.

Listen to Brass Tactics by Dog Shredder!

Trippy Wicked & the Cosmic Children of the Knight

Trippy Wicked sounds like someone with whom I ought to be partying. Immediately. As for those Cosmic Children? Well, my guess is they’re the ones handing out the red cups and hitting on all the women. Point is, wherever they are and whatever they’re doing, it’s substantially more interesting than what’s going on around you, and just listening to this UK power trio’s absurd stoner blues will have you scrounging for loose change and crumpled bills in every crevice of your denim so you can buy a ticket for a ride on the mothership. Of course, an all-access pass would be even better, that way when they turn on the afterburners to roast the weenies, and go motorcycle skydiving, you won’t miss one second of the stupid, sleazy action. Following 2009′s supremely bad-ass debut, Movin On, and the 2010 four-song acoustic EP The Bleak, Going Home is all kinds of good-time doom, nine songs of fuzzed-out groove metal laced with weird beard elements like hand claps, brass, orchestration, smack rock, and Southern boogie. I suppose it doesn’t really make that much sense, but it works like a fucking charm. That’s what makes Trippy so damn wicked, really.

Listen to Going Home by Trippy Wicked & the Cosmic Children of the Knight!

Arc of Ascent

Arc of Ascent straddle the stoner/doom divide like sentient giants, spiritual lion tamers of a beastly Kyuss/Sleep hybrid, a crooked staff in one hand and a whip in the other. Their 2010 debut, Circle of the Sun, was a bold and fuzzy big top spectacle, and follow-up The Higher Key is definitely a continuation of the same spacey show, but it’s not the thick, groovy riffs or the the psychedelic effects that mark this new album as a must-experience circus. No, instead it’s the strong voice of bassist Craig Williamson that sparks this comet’s fire, a soaring furnace of hypnotic melody with just a hint of dastard caterwauling, not unlike one Messiah Marcolin if the robed night stalker presided over asteroids instead of gravestones, and it truly separates the New Zealand power trio’s acid blast of narco-metal from the deluge of monolithic mayhem with which it might otherwise get lumped.

Listen to “Celestial Altar” from The Higher Key!

Conan

Barbarian fuzz from these aptly named Brits who’ve been demolishing us with down-tempo doom since their 2007 demo Battle in the Swamp. They were a two-piece at the time but have since (barely) evolved into a trio, yet while they’ve progressed in numbers their sound has regressed, becoming ever more disparaging and hellish with each passing release. Monnos, then, is six songs of cavernous riffs and craggy terrain, a lurking, lumbering beast with dull teeth and a thick jaw, which makes for devouring souls a slow and tragic process. Conan have always excelled at writing rock-rattling songs dredged in vast amounts of trepidation, and indeed the entirety of Monnos drips with despair, and while “Hawk As Weapon,” the redone, meatier version of “Battle in the Swamp,” and “Grim Tormentor” attack without prejudice, it’s the album’s final three songs that stalk you cold. Beginning with the drone-heavy “Golden Axe” and then moving into the uneasy, sprawling shadows of “Headless Hunter” and “Invincible Throne,” the back end of Monnos is a constant threat that something terrible will happen to you. The mark of a damn good doom record, I’d say.

Listen to Monnos by Conan!

Abrahma

In 2005, Sebastien Bismuth (vocals, guitar), Nicolas Heller (guitar), Guillaume Colin (Bass), and Benjamin Colin (drums) started their rock n’ roll life as Alcohsonic, a bluesy, torn-jean unit, and as such they released one album, one EP, and a single, but their hard rockin’, chicks-dig-it good times didn’t last. Given their name it might be fun to assume they checked themselves into musical rehab, and that particular premise would then make Abrahma their clean, spiritual return to the fold. Mighty, mystical, and full of the power of purpose, this version of the Parisian quartet prefers the desolate desert to the badly-lit barroom, the smoky swamp to the neon avenue, and it’s clear from the deep n’ groovy throw down that is Through the Dusty Paths of Our Lives that this was a resurrection borne of thunder and doom. In fact, after busting out with a trio of mountain-sized statement songs (“Neptune of Sorrow,” “Tears of the Sun,” “Dandelion Dust”) this album proceeds to run the stoner rock gamut throughout the course of its 15 songs, from heavy psyche (“Headless Horse,” “The Maze”) to stomp n’ slide (“Honkin’ Water Roof,” every song in the “Vodun” trilogy) to spacey colossus (“Big Black Cloud,” “…Here Sleep Ghosts” [the former featuring guitar solos courtesy of Ed Mundell]), all of it serving as one hell of a start to a brand new day.

Listen to “Neptune of Sorrow” from Through the Dusty Paths of Our Lives!