Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter Marble Son
Station Grey Records
At first listen, especially to one of her earlier albums, like Reckless Burning,Oh, My Girl, or Like, Love, Lust and the Open Hallways of the Soul, you wouldn’t think that Jesse Sykes would become a desirable figure in the world of heavy music (although she does look like a raven-haired mistress of the night), but thanks to her collaboration with Boris and SunnO))) on “The Sinking Belle” from Altar, the alt-country/indie singer/songwriter has made a name for herself amongst weirdos and beardos alike. In fact, she’s toured with bands like Earth and Black Mountain, and played at Roadburn, so whether it seems like a natural fit or not, the dark side has embraced Sykes, and now on her latest release, Marble Son, she’s embraced it right back. Truth be told, Sykes’ music (which she’s always made with longtime musical partner Phil Wandscher) has always contained darker elements, but never has that been more evident than on Marble Son, which sheds the alt-country vibe of albums past for a more psychedelic feel of melancholic finger-picking, mystical strumming, and distorted magic. In fact, all of that can be found on the eight-and-a-half-minute opener, “Hushed By Devotion,” which sets the tone for the rest of the album by acting as a giant rabbit hole into which you fall, and once the title track and “Come to Mary” sink their elegant claws into you, you’re adrift on the foggy river of Sykes’ wonderland of sorrow and beauty, and there’s no turning back. And that’s saying nothing of the addictive potion that is her voice, a kind of whiskey-owned siren call of hypnotic splendor that will toss you into thralldom on such songs as “Be it Me, Or Be it None” and “Wooden Roses.” Masterful stuff, really, as electric and powerful as it is lovely and languid, bound to nothing but its bold, broad appeal.
Here’s what’s different about Trap Them’s latest full-length album, Darker Handcraft: it features new full-time drummer Chris Maggio (ex-Coliseum), it has been released on new label Prosthetic Records (after a few years/releases with Deathwish Inc. and one EP with Southern Lord), and its songs are no longer labeled as numbered days. Now, here’s what’s not different about Darker Handcraft: it has, once again, been manhandled by Converge guitarist and super-producer Kurt Ballou, and it contains, once again, an unbelievably potent and possessive force of extreme metal/(grind-, crust-, hard-)core. Basically, it steals all the prefixes, obliterates ‘em, and scatters the gruesome dust over your pummeled being, a disastrous funeral of sorts with a corpse-raping wake that dissolves into some not-so-silent moments of silence with “Drag the Wounds Eternal” and “Scars Align” (examples of Trap Them releasing, albeit ever-so-slightly, their soul-crunching grip). Ultimately, what’s not different about Darker Handcraft is its 30 plus minutes of distorted brilliance, callous cunning, and barking mad, totalitarian rule. Like Trap Them’s previous efforts, this is just another impressive link in the heavy chain dragging us along the left hand path to where the scum and filth will one day worship these American masters.
BXI, better read as Boris + Ian, is a seemingly odd collaboration between Japanese experimental/stoner/metal/drone/doom giants, Boris, and everyone’s favourite spiritual tambourine shaker (when he’s not wearing a track suit and pretending to be Jim Morrison, that is), Ian Astbury. Personally though, I was stoked when the news first dropped about this hook-up because it seemed to me that throwing a huge stack of noise behind the salty ol’ shaman might actually resurrect his inner love child. I think it’s done just that. The four-song EP kicks off with “Teeth and Claws” and sure enough, Boris’ slow, deep, melodious rhythm goads Astbury’s voice into prophetic incantations about love, illumination, renewal, and salvation. Then Boris drops a brutally heavy, attacking riff on “We Are Witches” as Astbury grows larger at the pulpit, casting an army of one thousand ravens into the night. It ends, quite fittingly, with “Magickal Child,” the all-encompassing comedown, a sweetly distorted lysergic ballad full of atmospheric soul, but not before the procession is interrupted for Boris’ Astbury-less cover of The Cult’s “Rain,” which is a stand-out here thanks to its truly remarkable psychedelic pop vibe and guitarist Wata’s ghostly, porcelain voice. The power of BXI is mighty, brothers and sisters. Let it compel you.
Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter
Trap Them
BXI