Hailing from what seems to be the most magical of all rock n’ roll boroughs right now, Brooklyn, Hull represent that geographical body’s brute Hulk force, and one run through their sophomore album, Beyond the Lightless Sky, will leave you wondering how there are any buildings left standing at all in Kings County. Indeed, Hull’s dense, triple-guitar punishment can reduce anything to rubble, but it is amidst the dust and debris that Hull emerges to capture our collective astonishment by drawing us into their more kindly tempered, idyllic post-rock bosom. Of course, we soon realize it’s all a fantastic ruse, the promise of proximate peace nothing more than a lie designed to get us close enough to crush, and sludgy blows rain down upon us once more. Apparently Beyond the Lightless Sky is some sort of concept album about Mayan brothers, so I’ll just go ahead and assume that’s what all the dudes in the band are screaming about, but what does it for me is the way Hull mixes the massiveness of Omega Massif with the lumbering pace of Harvey Milk and then tosses in some mystical solos for good measure. Beyond heavy, man.
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.
Master Musicians of Bukkake Totem Two
Conspiracy Records
Master Musicians of Bukkake, Seattle’s self-proclaimed seers of the mystical noise void, whose psychic vibrations transcend all form and flow forth like shimmering water from the fountain of no-age sound, have partaken in a spiritual journey known simply as the Totem Trilogy. Totem Two, then, finds the seven sons (made up of Earth and Burning Witch members) on the middle leg of their cosmic tour, immersed in an experimental ritual of Eastern mysticism, as though urged on by the many arms of some unnamed deity. The six songs offered here sweep across holy mountain tops like ambient fog and settle on the other side of tomorrow, where the sun lays down its flames and wandering souls speak into the hollow trunks of Eucalyptus trees. It’s a meditation on mourning, but joyous just the same, and offers exotic enlightenment in a easily accessible form.
Hull
Jesse Sykes & The Sweet Hereafter
Master Musicians of Bukkake