Freedom Hawk
Holding On
Small Stone

You know, I thought sHEAVY’s Steve Hennessey had the Ozzy-sound-a-like market cornered, but Freedom Hawk’s T.R. Morton has every bit the bat head-biting chords Hennessey does. But where sHEAVY is cosmically monolithic, Freedom Hawk is demonically earthy, blazing a path of accelerated doom-groove on dirty wheels of steel, thus drawing a more staunch comparison to Black Sabbath and solo-era Ozzy. I mean, it’s nothing new for a stoner rock band to sound like Sabbath, but Holding On, the Virginia band’s second full-length album, takes it one step beyond, greasing the riffs up with just enough metal melody to give ‘em a commercially viable hard rock sound. That’s not to say it doesn’t deserve your particular attention, because it does; what it means is that Freedom Hawk is better and heavier than, say, a Fireball Ministry or Big Rig, and flexes every single musical muscle they have on songs like “Thunderfoot,” “Living for Days,” “North Swell,” and “Indian Summer,” which command your attention, like an iron grip ’round your throat, with that aforementioned Sabbath power, and some Fu Manchu gusto and Generous Maria electricism, too. When they’re not sounding like Cluth (“Bandito”) or Candlemass (“Faded”), that is. Pure POWER is what is, man, plain and simple.

Listen to “Indian Summer” from Holding On!

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!

Skraeckoedlan
Äppelträdet
Transubstans Records

There’s no use fighting it; I’m gonna have a new favourite Swedish stoner rock band just about every month. And why not? When a band like Skraeckoedlan (that’s Horror Lizard for those of you desperate for a translation) drops a planet-devouring full-length debut like this one, it’s perfectly reasonable to proclaim the coming of a new fuzzy messiah. You may recall that I was thoroughly impressed with Skraeckoedlan’s 2009 EP Flykten Från Tellus, describing the band at that time as “a trio of northern woodsmen from outer space” whose sound was “medieval, alien dopespeak urging on the psychedelic juggernaut of heavy fuzz that rolls over you like a cosmic tempest,” comparing them to Dozer, Asteroid, Kyuss, Valis, and Los Natas. Well, all of that still stands, but somewhere between now and then (during which time they released the three-track demo Världarnas Fall) the band has grown bolder and more confident, and their sound has progressed from a loose groove to a more precise bludgeoning (although it still grooves, man).  Äppelträdet (The Apple Tree) stands deep-rooted and thick-trunked, its branches offering  the sweet taste of mammoth melody, and each song you pick is bigger and juicer than the next. It’s an abundance of pure heavy, a bushel-full of bottomed-out riffs in which they cover many of the essential stoner sounds, including the green-smoked “Haven,” the space-fried “Doedaroedlan” and “Cactus,” the dual harsh/clean vocals of “Soluppgång,” and the muddy “Chronos,” which will remind you of a whole host of American sludge bands. They even treat us English-speaking weirdos to a few tunes in our native tongue this time around. You know, I kind of hope this month lasts for a really long time because I don’t want to get off Skraeckoedlan’s trip anytime soon. It’s that good.

Listen to “Doedaroedlan” from Äppelträdet!