I don’t know at what point this retro occult rock movement is going to turn into a silly fad, but I don’t think we’re there yet, which means I can continue to pour candle wax all over myself in the name of this bitchin’ dark art. Sweden’s Year of the Goat is the latest band to delve into the ceremonial castle doom with their debut four-song EP, Lucem Ferre, which tables a slightly cleaner and more melodic psych-rock sound than what you might get from contemporaries like Witchcraft, Ghost, The Devil’s Blood, Dead Man, Graveyard, Blood Ceremony, Asteroid, and others. The EP’s three original songs, “Of Darkness,” “Vermillion Clouds,” and the instrumental “Lucem Ferre,” are powered by Thomas Eriksson’s Buckley-bled voice and a whole cabal of groovy, crimson-tinged riffs likely conjured up in some virgin-killing ritual, while the Sam Gopal (back when Lemmy was at the helm) cover, “Dark Lord,” follows the possessed, fuzzy-cloaked form we’re used to hearing from bands of this breed. Simply put, Lucem Ferre is four songs of ancient awesomeness and I swear it’ll make you want to smoke skull dust, drink from a chalice, and pray for someone’s pagan soul.
There’s no use fighting it; I’m gonna have a new favourite Swedish stoner rock band just about every month. And why not? When a band like Skraeckoedlan (that’s Horror Lizard for those of you desperate for a translation) drops a planet-devouring full-length debut like this one, it’s perfectly reasonable to proclaim the coming of a new fuzzy messiah. You may recall that I was thoroughly impressed with Skraeckoedlan’s 2009 EP Flykten Från Tellus, describing the band at that time as “a trio of northern woodsmen from outer space” whose sound was “medieval, alien dopespeak urging on the psychedelic juggernaut of heavy fuzz that rolls over you like a cosmic tempest,” comparing them to Dozer, Asteroid, Kyuss, Valis, and Los Natas. Well, all of that still stands, but somewhere between now and then (during which time they released the three-track demo Världarnas Fall) the band has grown bolder and more confident, and their sound has progressed from a loose groove to a more precise bludgeoning (although it still grooves, man). Äppelträdet (The Apple Tree) stands deep-rooted and thick-trunked, its branches offering the sweet taste of mammoth melody, and each song you pick is bigger and juicer than the next. It’s an abundance of pure heavy, a bushel-full of bottomed-out riffs in which they cover many of the essential stoner sounds, including the green-smoked “Haven,” the space-fried “Doedaroedlan” and “Cactus,” the dual harsh/clean vocals of “Soluppgång,” and the muddy “Chronos,” which will remind you of a whole host of American sludge bands. They even treat us English-speaking weirdos to a few tunes in our native tongue this time around. You know, I kind of hope this month lasts for a really long time because I don’t want to get off Skraeckoedlan’s trip anytime soon. It’s that good.
Graveyard seem to be a strange pick-up for metal label Nuclear Blast, but there were days before speed and aggression when the psychedelic blues riffs of bands like Led Zeppelin and Blue Cheer were considered heavy metal, so if you want to look at it that way, the foggy longhair tumult of the Gothenburg, Sweden quartet’s retro rock is plenty metal enough. Shaking with raw, analogous boogie-doom and acid-fried magic, Hisingen Blues, the band’s second album, is rarefied fuzzdom, a kind of electric catnip that makes bell-bottomed leaf hounds go bat-shit. Much like its self-titled predecessor, Hisingen Blues baits you into unconscious reminiscing thanks to a sound best received via vinyl’s hypnotizing spin. Although Graveyard find themselves essential players in a growing Euro-led 70s revival with bands like Witchcraft, Ghost, The Devil’s Blood, Dead Man, and Asteroid, they bypass the more flagrant ceremonial/occult vibes of some of those bands (although they’re not shy on the demonic themes) for a more straightforward rock n’ roll approach that might call to mind a candlelit version of latter-day Hellacopters. Songs like “Ain’t Fit to Live Here,” “Hisingen Blues,” “Buying Truth (Tack & Förlåt),” “Ungrateful Are the Dead,” and “RSS” are propelled by pelvic power and sorcerous solos, while songs like “No Good, Mr. Holden,” “Uncomfortably Numb,” “Longing,” and “The Siren” take a dip into murky, mystic waters, and all the while vocalist/guitarist Joakim Nilsson replies in kind with an impressive range that stretches from Plant to Pelander as the situation warrants (sometimes within the same song). I predict this one will gain a hell of a lot of traction before the year’s out, and that’s all right with me, friends, because when the weird inherit the Earth, we’ll have Graveyard to thank.
Check out the video for the title track from Hisingen Blues!
Year of the Goat
Skraeckoedlan
