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!
The moment you begin listening to an Omega Massif album, there’s not a heavier, darker moment occurring anywhere else in the world; it was true of their 2006 debut EP Kalt, it was true of their 2007 debut full-length Geisterstadt, and now the same can be said for their latest album, Karpatia. Knowing the kind of power Omega Massif is capable of harnessing, I feared putting the headphones anywhere near their desired mark lest my skull succumb to the inevitable decibel rape and cave in upon first riff impact. To say the German instrumental band is crushing is an understatement. Many will label ‘em drone sludge, post-metal, or atmospheric doom, but each of those are just rusty links in the thick chain tied to the ten ton anchor that is their sound, which rests in the deepest part of the ocean’s black crevices, a place still and breathless, a place untouched by humanity. Whether drenched in feedback, antagonizing you with its gentler, swelling passages, or unleashing a resounding and brutal assault of monolithic proportions, Karpatia is stone cold terror. You might want to think about finding a happy place with strong walls before you drop the needle on this one, man.
Earth
The Saint James Society
Omega Massif