Tentacle
Void Abyss
Self-Released

It wasn’t that long ago that I was marveling at Ice Dragon’s tenacious work ethic and sonic output (right here), and as if stricken by some mad fever, or perhaps as an ongoing affront to all things underwhelming and pristine, they’ve tossed yet another trunk of moldy bones into the bubbling, black lake, this time at the bidding of that lake’s hungry and sticky master, Tentacle. Tentacle is Ice Dragon, really, if it’s brass tacks we’re after, but this version of the Boston band is Cthulhu awakened, an angrier, deathlier sort of doom monster, and their debut four song EP, Void Abyss, rumbles with down-tuned echoes of hellish, world-swallowing proportions. I didn’t think there were any dark crevices left for Ice Dragon to explore, but it turns out a Tentacle is better at reaching unseen evil places than a pair of cold wings.

Listen to Void Abyss by Tentacle!

Mellow Bravo
Mellow Bravo
Small Stone

Mellow Bravo is the redheaded stepchild of the Small Stone roster, the outcast whose self-titled second album came attached with the following statement from the label: This is NOT stoner rock. I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be scared or excited; it’s like going to a steakhouse and being told I wouldn’t be served a bleeding slab of meat. I mean, I love steak, but the unknown alternative could be just as satiating. So, what is Mellow Bravo if not a stoner rock band? Well, they’re dark blues foragers, hard rock hucksters, a sextet of rum running rock n’ roll pirates from Boston adept at seizing all kinds of loot in some very deep waters. They’re Screamin’ Jay Hawkins, Black Mountain, Thee Hypnotics, Beasts of Bourbon, Zen Guerrilla, and Slash all at once, if you can imagine it, and tear through ragged harp (“Sad Sam”), aggressive riffing (“Ridin”), cowboy ballad (“Senorita”), temperamental slide (“Love Hammer”), and back porch folk (“Prairie Dog”) with all the sizzle and strut of rock gods going home to roost. The depth of sound and soul found on Mellow Bravo must truly be heard because it contains so many undefinable elements, but basically this is the kind of  guitar driven gusto that plays well from campfires to stadiums and any dive bar in between. And that’s saying nothing of the band’s ace in the hole, organist/vocalist Jess Collins, who adds all the smoke to this star-tickling fire. So, it turns out I was supposed to be excited. I am.

Listen to “Sad Sam” from Mellow Bravo!

Windhand
Windhand
Forcefield Records / Mordgrimm Records

I’m up to my eyeballs in albums to review and the pile is only getting higher. Sometimes, however, I come across a new band who makes me forsake the goddamn pile. ‘To hell with the pile,’ I say, ‘I gotta gush about this one now!’ Introducing Windhand, the Virginia doom quintet with marks to make, both sonically and humanly, so if you find yourself being sucked down into the sodden pit their self-titled debut has dug beneath you, it’s best just to embrace the saturation and get comfortable amongst the soggy bodies. Windhand happens, much to the delight of Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s bloated corpse, on a dark and stormy night, a purple strain of fuzz summoned to this realm through nefarious channels, namely Electric Wizard worship and empty steins of frothy newt eye. Sure, the album’s five songs sound like Windhand is plowing miles of muddy field with only a pitchfork, but the songs also bubble with syrupy melody in spots, specifically closer “Winter Sun,” an epic, fate-sealing tempest. I strongly suggest you forsake whatever it is you deem important in your life and pay Windhand the urgent attention they deserve.

Listen to Windhand by Windhand!