Year of the Goat
Lucem Ferre
Ván Records

I don’t know at what point this retro occult rock movement is going to turn into a silly fad, but I don’t think we’re there yet, which means I can continue to pour candle wax all over myself in the name of this bitchin’ dark art. Sweden’s Year of the Goat is the latest band to delve into the ceremonial castle doom with their debut four-song EP, Lucem Ferre, which tables a slightly cleaner and more melodic psych-rock sound than what you might get from contemporaries like Witchcraft, Ghost, The Devil’s Blood, Dead Man, Graveyard, Blood Ceremony, Asteroid, and others. The EP’s three original songs, “Of Darkness,” “Vermillion Clouds,” and the instrumental “Lucem Ferre,” are powered by Thomas Eriksson’s Buckley-bled voice and a whole cabal of groovy, crimson-tinged riffs likely conjured up in some virgin-killing ritual, while the Sam Gopal (back when Lemmy was at the helm) cover, “Dark Lord,” follows the possessed, fuzzy-cloaked form we’re used to hearing from bands of this breed. Simply put, Lucem Ferre is four songs of ancient awesomeness and I swear it’ll make you want to smoke skull dust, drink from a chalice, and pray for someone’s pagan soul.

Listen to “Of Darkness” from Lucem Ferre!

Graveyard
Hisingen Blues
Nuclear Blast

Graveyard seem to be a strange pick-up for metal label Nuclear Blast, but there were days before speed and aggression when the psychedelic blues riffs of bands like Led Zeppelin and Blue Cheer were considered heavy metal, so if you want to look at it that way, the foggy longhair tumult of the Gothenburg, Sweden quartet’s retro rock is plenty metal enough. Shaking with raw, analogous boogie-doom and acid-fried magic, Hisingen Blues, the band’s second album, is rarefied fuzzdom, a kind of electric catnip that makes bell-bottomed leaf hounds go bat-shit. Much like its self-titled predecessor, Hisingen Blues baits you into unconscious reminiscing thanks to a sound best received via vinyl’s hypnotizing spin. Although Graveyard find themselves essential players in a growing Euro-led 70s revival with bands like Witchcraft, Ghost, The Devil’s Blood, Dead Man, and Asteroid, they bypass the more flagrant ceremonial/occult vibes of some of those bands (although they’re not shy on the demonic themes) for a more straightforward rock n’ roll approach that might call to mind a candlelit version of latter-day Hellacopters. Songs like “Ain’t Fit to Live Here,” “Hisingen Blues,” “Buying Truth (Tack & Förlåt),” “Ungrateful Are the Dead,” and “RSS” are propelled by pelvic power and sorcerous solos, while songs like “No Good, Mr. Holden,” “Uncomfortably Numb,” “Longing,” and “The Siren” take a dip into murky, mystic waters, and all the while vocalist/guitarist Joakim Nilsson replies in kind with an impressive range that stretches from Plant to Pelander as the situation warrants (sometimes within the same song). I predict this one will gain a hell of a lot of traction before the year’s out, and that’s all right with me, friends, because when the weird inherit the Earth, we’ll have Graveyard to thank.

Check out the video for the title track from Hisingen Blues!

“Merlin wasn’t real.”
“Fuck you Merlin wasn’t real.”
“It’s a story.”
“Merlin was part of King Henry’s court and he fucking won all the wars for him ’cause he cast spells. Fuck you, man. That shit’s real.”
“He was part of King Arthur, not King Henry…”
“Yeah, it’s a fable. A fable is history.”

Ah, FUBAR. Amazing. But you know something? Deaner got it absolutely right. A fable is history. The divide between truth and fiction has long since vanished and wizards walk — or, rather, rock — amongst us. I know. So what you’re about to read, everything I’m about to tell you of the outlaw Gideon Smith and his court of motorcycle madmen, The Dixie Damned, may sound like pure cowboy fantasy, a Southern-fried fairy tale full of tumbleweed, rattlers, whiskey, blood, dust, ghosts, and backwoods psychedelia, but it’s simply this: the narcotic we desire most.

Gideon, the Charlotte, North Carolina native, began life as a wizard when he apprenticed at the faithful and frenzied school of Destructo Maximus as a roadie while under the bloody-faced tutelage of Jeff Clayton and his band of wrestlin’ lovin’ murder junkies, ANTiSEEN. The years he spent in that chaotic foxhole, surrounded by barb wire and explosives, arm in arm with the Confederacy of Scum, would spark in him a desire to branch out on his own. So, in 1997, Gideon took that giant leap into outlaw territory with some former Animal Bag members, now dubbed The Dixie Damned.

Gideon Smith & The Dixie Damned spin a swampy brand of blues-infused doom rock, a heavy dose of Southern boogie n’ groove with a hairy chest and meat cleavers for hands. They mix the super-sized spirituality of The Cult with the chain gang riffs of Circus of Power and end up with a shamanistic brand of trippy, bad-ass, redneck biker rock. Gideon’s vocals might be some of the most recognizable in all of rock n’ roll, rolling out of his diaphragm like they’re coming up from the bottom of a well, where Elvis’ bloated carcass floats face down in bong water. The band released a self-titled EP some time after forming, but it wasn’t until 2004′s full-length, Southern Gentlemen, that word came down that there was a new wizard in town.

But, like a wizard is wont to do, Gideon vanished for a few years, appearing only on various tribute albums and compilations. He spent his years in exile dealing with death and cultivating is outlaw way of life, recording some spoken word/poetry stuff on such themes as paganism, the occult, the power of positive thinking, beauty, creativity, and strength, and writing his manifesto, Way of the Outlaw Spirit. Gideon Smith & The Dixie Damned returned to the fold with a six-song EP, Dealin’ Decks, and their second full-length in 2008, South Side of the Moon.

So, what’s Gideon up to now? How goes it in the world of this particular wizard, this rock n’ roll outlaw? What bearded mischief has he been up to? Well, I take council with the man himself, my brother in both wizardry and beard, and we discuss such epic matters as his new album, what it means to be an outlaw, what it means to be a wizard (and how we can’t actually discuss anything to do with wizardry because it’s all top secret), and, of course, beards. There’s even an uncomfortable moment when I mention something about a girl and some chains. This is the stuff you crave, my friend. This is the fable of truth.

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