Ape Machine
War to Head
Ape Machine Music

Contrary to the metal scene that’s sprung up around them in Portland, Oregon, Ape Machine prefer to — ahem — ape the psychedelic blues of the 70s when delivering their heavy brand of smoke n’ roll. Their debut, This House Has Been Condemned, was full of slow burning, seven minute jams over top of which vocalist Caleb Heinze howled at the moon, and kind of reminded me of a laid back Zen Guerrilla, man. Well, not ones to rest on their cosmic laurels, Ape Machine have embraced the more metal aspects of the 70s hard rock sound on their latest album, War to Head, which means the riffs are mightier and the dynamics are retro-fried, giving ‘em a tighter, bolder, Deep Purple push with some fuzzy Gothenburg gusto thrown in for good measure. They still manage to find occasion to slip into their former ways however, as evidenced by the quick shot of soul that is “No Sugar in My Coffee,” the groove and noodling of “What’s Up Stanley?” and the electric slide throughout “The Sun,” “Downtrodden,” and “Please Do Not Use Red Ink and Do Not Erase,” but it’s songs like “Hold Your Tongue,” “Can’t Cure Deceit,” “Death of the Captain,” and “Black Night” that flex a wicked Sabbath muscle and propel Ape Machine into the stoner realm on the wings of bell bottoms and dirty blues.

Listen to “Can’t Cure Deceit” from War to Head!

Gideon Smith and The Dixie Damned
30 Weight
Small Stone

With one of the most recognizable voices in all of heavy music, the swamp wizard himself, Gideon Smith, returns to howl at the moon with 30 Weight, another album of psychedelic motorcycle blues that has me (and no doubt others of my ilk who have also previously written about The Dixie Damned’s Southern boogie doom) tripping over myself trying to come up with a fresh way to sell the North Carolina band’s super-charmed snake oil. Just like previous full-lengths, 2004′s Southern Gentlemen and 2008′s South Side of the Moon, 30 Weight mixes the spiritual fire-eating of The Cult and the steely-eyed machismo of Circus of Power (see, I’m doing it already) for a deadly concoction of outlaw riffs and acid groove where songs like “Feel Alive” and “Shining Star” are this album’s “Whiskey Devil” and “Shimmering Rain,” respectively. That would also make the song “South” quite self-explanatory, as well. However, Gideon manages to add a few new ingredients to his brew this time around, like a female back-up singer on “Ride With Me” and a couple of covers, including a slow cooked version of Saint Vitus’ “I Bleed Black” and G.G. Allin’s “When I Die,” a poignantly raw country and western song in which Gideon strips it all down, even his voice. While GS&TDD fans will find a familiar comfort in 30 Weight‘s cattle skull savagery, the inexperienced can start here and work their way back down the dusty highway the band has forged without feeling like they’ve arrived late to the midnight ritual dance.

Listen to “Black Fire” from 30 Weight!

Backwoods Payback
Momantha
Small Stone

If there’s any immediate difference to be noted between Backwoods Payback’s 2007 self-titled debut and their 2011 Small Stone debut, Momantha, it’s the production (cheers, Mr. Grotto). That 2007 album was an ugly affair, a quagmire of lumbering stoner rock for hairy-backed troglodytes with revenge-ridden manifestos in one hand and a rusty hatchet in the other. Of course, that’s what made it so great; there’s never been any doubt about who Backwoods Payback is or what they sound like — kind of like Kyuss, kind of like The Obsessed, kind of like Devil to Pay, kind of like Acid King, and kind of like Scissorfight, but most definitely a lot like a boulder being dropped into a puddle of mud. Momantha, however, adds melody into the mix, and flexes a bit more muscle as well, but before you think that means the maniacs are city-bound to chuck curses and get library cards, be assured that this album is drenched in BP’s groggy-riffed pestilence. In fact, the album’s first half, from “You Know How This Works” to “Parting Words,” is a beast and is probably as road-ready and raunchy as BP will ever play it, but the second-half variety courtesy of the Urge Overkill alt-vibe of “Poncho,” the sludgy doom of “Velcro,” and the hardcore-tinged animosity of “Timegrinder,”  will keep you on your toes, guessing when, where, and under what modus operandi the band will strike next. BP aren’t reinventing the kill here, but I just can’t seem to definitively peg ‘em, which is an awfully high compliment to give. But there is something familiar here, isn’t there? Sometimes I think it’s that vocalist/guitarist Mike Cummings’ throaty howl reminds me of Pete Stahl — and, to that end, that BP remind me in some way of a woollier Wool — and sometimes I think that they’re out there all alone in the Pennsylvania thick, just them and the shallow graves they’ve dug.

Listen to “Lord Chesterfield” from Momantha!