Admiral Browning
Battle Stations
Self-released

On Battle Stations, Maryland instrumental three piece Admiral Browning take the cosmic noodling of The Atomic Bitchwax, the abrasive structure of Stinking Lizaveta, and the fretted fury of Mastodon to create metal jams powerful enough to command a whole fleet of warships (okay, maybe not a whole fleet, but three for sure) to certain victory. From the album’s dedication aimed at anyone who’s survived a life-threatening illness to its Skillet artwork portraying the aquatic besting of a robotic beast, the pervading theme is a positive, triumphant one. Battle Stations, AB’s fourth release, is also a personal win for the band, who conquered the stagnant waters of creativity they felt surrounded them after the release of 2009′s Magic Elixir. Charging hard with opener “Riff Crisis,” it breaks down at the three minute mark and a trend is set whereby Battle Stations is rife with songs within the songs, and it’s as if you’re treated to more than just the five listed on the jacket. Nowhere is this more evident than on the album’s longest songs, “The Binary Language of Moisture Vaporators” and “Dreams of Hammurabi,” both of which traverse multiple metal landscapes in melodic, thrash-y, fuzzy, attention-grabbing fashion. Add to the mix the psych-charged “One Lucky Canary” and the exotic flare of “Interlude” and you’ve got one wild fight on the waves, my friend.

Listen to “Riff Crisis” from Battle Stations!

Natural Child
1971
Infinity Cat Records

This debut album from Nashville trio Natural Child comes as advertised, a rusty, country-fried rock n’ roll record no doubt spurred on by the magic that went down at Villa Nellcote in the south of France during the druggy, exiled summer of its namesake. Bolstered by an abundance of Caucasian funk and half-baked whimsy, Natural Child freely saunter through eleven songs of bare-boned garage fuzz (“Easy Street,” “Hard Workin’ Man,” “Makin’ It,” “Natural Blues”), acoustic blues (“Woman C’mon,” “White People,” “Yer Birthday”), hazy jams (“Yoko,” “Let it Bleed,” “Beer”), and some punk-infused pop (“Chris’ Blues”), and ought to remind you of the Rolling Stones (natch), Lions in the Street, The White Stripes, and The Flaming Sideburns. You know, forty years removed and 1971 does a helluva job harnessing the kind of weird, organic rock that once served millionaires, dope fiends, and outlaws extremely well.

Listen to “Easy Street” from 1971!

Tia Carrera
Cosmic Priestess
Small Stone

If Tia Carrera’s 2009 album, The Quintessential, was a bit of a hazy, sleepy, psychedelic deviation from their norm, then their newest one, Cosmic Priestess, is a return to form. That form, of course, is a rather loose and improvised gush of hot, bubbling cosmic lava, and that old rock n’ roll cliche of melting faces seems to be the guiding principle on which this celestial babe governs her kingdom. Firing up fuzzy freak jams and roughshod riffs from the outset, the album itself, like the music, is a real trip, with opener “Slave Cylinder” delivering earthly, 70s-inspired, knuckle-dusted fury before coasting into the clouds with “Sand, Stone and Pearl.” Where it really takes off, though, is when the meteoric, near 34-minute “Saturn Missile Battery” kicks in and you find yourself on a galactic tour de force that’ll make you think you’re at the Roadburn festival on, well, Saturn. Closer “A Wolf in Wolf’s Clothing” grounds you there for good, its moon rock groove forcing Saturn’s rings into a wobbly spin like warped vinyl. Have a nice life on planet high, buddy, because you’re never coming home.

Sorry, folks, but the songs are too big to share here. I can’t even find a youtube video of any of ‘em. Looks like you’ll have wait until this one comes out!