There are times — not many, but a few — when I sit down to write about an album and know I’m not going to need to pull out my gonzo rock n’ roll thesaurus in order to spin my praise. This is one of those times. As one friend recently stated, “Mark Lanegan has no peers,” and, really, what more needs to be said? The musician’s work with The Screaming Trees, Gutter Twins, Isobel Campbell, Soulsavers, and others is well documented, but the landscape he’s laid out with his solo work is incredibly gorgeous and virtually untouchable. The majority of his recorded solo material is deep, dark, and gracefully tortured, but where the albums he’s released as just Mark Lanegan present it in a softer form, the Mark Lanegan Band turns it up and wraps it in a whole bunch of grit, fuzz, and noise. It’s been eight years since their only other album, 2004′s Bubblegum, but Blues Funeral picks right up where that one left off, turning drum machine chaos, savory sequencing, bluesy rhythms, and a malady of melody into something emotionally gripping and powerfully rock n’ roll. Of course, as with anything Lanegan does, it’s his voice that is the star, and Blues Funeral is no exception. His voice could sell me my own death and I’d buy it. And at least I’d be at peace knowing I’ve got an amazing soundtrack for the long, slow walk down. No one does it better.
Check out the video for “The Gravedigger’s Song” from Blues Funeral!
Earth Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light II
Southern Lord
Having been locked up for about a year (since it was recorded at the same time as Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light I), Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light II finally meets its emancipation, and while you’ve no doubt got its dark, drawn out revelry already figured out, there are some differences to be noted between the two sisters. For one, II is only three quarters of an hour long, a good fifteen minutes shorter than I, despite the same number of songs, and in Earth terms, that’s a good spell. That doesn’t mean it feels any less shorter, though, and that’s largely due to II‘s more optimistic tone. If I was the descent, II is the ascent, punctuated by more prominent contributions from Adrienne Davies’ percussion and Lori Goldston’s cello, both of which seem to pull songs like “Waltz (A Multiplicity of Doors)” and “The Corascene Dog” toward the glowing embers of some distant fire. Much like I — and Earth’s last few albums before it — II is a dust n’ bones affair, albeit a somewhat more redemptive one, meaning it’s got plenty of that hypnotic Americana gothic sound worked into the band’s signature drone doom, but the way Dylan Carlson’s guitar reaches for something akin to a riff on “The Rakehell” is a subtle but dynamic move that reveals beauty and hope in the blackness.
Listen to “The Corascene Dog” from Angels of Darkness, Demons of Light II!
The Saint James Society The Saint James Society
Tee Pee
The Saint James Society are an Austin, Texas collective, all droopy hats and opulent jewelry, raven clad and ultra rad, who are just as likely to be selling fragrances at a desert bazaar as they are pushing garage psych in a dimly lit back room full of stony, armless idols. Thankfully, we get the latter (although it won’t hurt if you want to envision the former too), and despite the fact that their self-titled debut is but a four-song EP, it oozes with enough mystic mojo to melt the moon. Like a switchblade hypnotist with an Edgar Allen Poe mind, The Saint James Society taunt you with their BEAT, a tell-tale rhythm that drives the entire EP so that the acid drone and dark fuzz of its pulsing quartet (“Reflections,” “Of Silver and Gold,” “The Ballad of the White Horse,” “The Devil, An Angel, and a Broken Window”) fills up the very marrow of your bones. It’s a moving (dare I say sexy?) trip, equal parts style and sound, and will surely find favour with fans of Black Mountain, Quest for Fire, The Black Angels, and The Black Rebel Motorcycle Club, as well as restless sinners and the terminally cool.
Check out the video for “Reflections” from The Saint James Society!