When I caught both Noothgrush and Coffins
at the inaugural Heavy Days In Doom Town fest in Copenhagen last year, I
almost couldn't believe what I was witnessing. Given that Oakland's
Noothgrush had been split up for more than a decade, and that Tokyo's
Coffins were from, well, Tokyo, I felt especially lucky just to have
gotten the chance to see each of them. I never thought it would happen. That
both bands completely decimated the crowd with their respective sets
was tantamount to their sheer crushing weight; the power of the riff is
constrained by neither time nor distance.
When I got talking to
Noothgrush guitarist Russ Kent a few days later before their show in
Hamburg, he mentioned that Uchino from Coffins had suggested the idea of
both bands embarking on a Japanese tour together.
That
was 18 months ago, and only now are both that tour and the resultant
split record happening. I guess taking things agonisingly slow isn't something that only applies to their music.
Noothgrush don't fuck around on their side, their first track 'Humandemic' immediately capturing the sound of Sabbath's Paranoid
record, with Russ' SG-through-a-Laney tone complimenting Chiyo Nukaga's
trademark gigantic cymbal crashes perfectly. So well do they emulate
the doomed vibe of their musical forefathers, that when Dino Sommese
(you know, of Dystopia, Asunder, Ghoul, every other fucking band) spews
his bile-scorched vocals over everything, it almost seems like a shame
to pollute the pure '70s atmosphere. That is until you remember that
this is the return of Noothgrush, one of the most disgusting, and
disgusted, sludge bands to have been dragged into existence in
the '90s. They were just as angry about the era they were living in
then, and Dino's hateful howl reminds you that rage has not dimmed one
iota; this is miserable music for miserable times.
Their
second contribution to the record is a re-recording of their classic
track 'Jundland Wastes', which has been floating around in various
recorded forms ever since their 1995 Kashyyyk
demo. The quality of this recording, even the clarity of the sample
playing throughout the intro, is sure to cement this as the definitive
version. The mid-track lull allows Gary Niederhoff's malevolently
crawling bass to detach from the main riff for a couple of bars, before
everything coalesces again and the band drag themselves through the
eponymous wastes towards the end of the track. Never mind Tusken
Raiders; Noothgrush are the scariest thing to ever inhabit the deserts
of Tattooine.
They
close out their side with the 9-minute 'Thoth', a tribute to beloved
Bay Area DJ Cy Thoth, who passed away this year. Beginning with looped
samples of Thoth himself before Chiyo's drums herald the arrival of a
monstrous riff, it's classic Noothgrush, even down to Russ'
full-fretboard pickscrapes.
The
track meanders madly, with further samples of Cy Thoth thrown in
throughout, Dino's absolutely ferocious vocals providing sharp contrast
to his spoken word psychedelic ramblings.
When
the track, and Noothgrush's side, ends with a recording of a laughing
Thoth warning everyone to "watch out for cannibal attacks! Everyone is
suspect!", it's clear even to those unaware of his work that he was a
true original who will be much missed by his community. Thankfully, the
heavy music community can welcome one of it's own true originals back to
the fold.
It's good to have you back, Noothgrush.
I'll admit it, compared to new Noothgrush material, anything else was going
to pale in comparison, but thankfully they share this split with one of
my favourite bands of recent years. Given that Coffins have actually
covered Noothgrush in the past, on their excellent tribute EP Sewage Sludgecore Treatment,
they know exactly how much grime they need to apply to their already putrid
death-doom. The first track of their side, 'Drown In Revelation',
is able to match the other side for both filth and fury.
Slowly
fading in, the ominous approach of the drums soon joined by prowling
bass, while the feedback builds and builds, until with an "UGH!" they
launch into one of those deadly riffs that Uchino seems to have an
endless supply of in his arsenal. Given that this is something like
their eighth release in just the last couple of years, they manage to
maintain a ridiculously high quality level with all their recordings, with their recent full-length The Fleshland
already being one of my favourite releases this year. Around two-thirds
of the way through the track, the band kick things up a gear into
full-on death-doom mode, the lurching, stuttering riff backed up with
punishing double-kick drums, before slowing everything down to a doomed
crawl. When they return to that monstrous main riff again, if you're not
in full-on headbanging-and-invisible-oranges mode, there's something
wrong with you.
'The Wretched Path' continues in that same vile vein, with the influence of Celtic Frost clearly heard in the faster passages of this track. I never though I'd say this, but this track near enough fucking bounces along at points, it's so uptempo. However, don't mistake that for upbeat, I'm sure that whatever Uchino is growling here, the words themselves are foul enough to offset any remotely 'good time' vibe.
I may be biased as I have been eagerly awaiting the release of this record ever since I learned that it might one day become even a possibility, but the half hour of misanthropic sludge and deadly doom on offer across both sides of this LP confirm that it's one of the heaviest releases to be unleashed this year. Ignore at your peril, and prepare to abandon all hope.
You can stream, and buy both digital and vinyl versions of this split via Southern Lord.
I
thought I'd be living in Germany when I booked my tickets for Heavy
Days In Doom Town 2013, having had the best fest experience of my life
at the inaugural 2012 edition. However external forces
(psychotic housemates, financial woes) caused me to abandon my life on
the continent and come back to the country of my birth.
As a
result, my journey to the riff-filled land was a little more convoluted
than it should have been. Connecting flights, sleeping overnight in
airports, and some 50 hours of waiting around all conspired to dampen my
spirits, but as soon as I was walking the streets of Copenhagen again, I
felt that familiar pre-show thrill.
The anticipation of the howl of
feedback, the buzz of amps, the joy of spending my nights in dark
cramped rooms with other people who get the same rush out of riffs that I
do.
No matter where circumstances dictate I lay my head and earn my living, this is where I feel at home.
THURSDAY
Danish sludge miscreants Bottom Feeder hit the stage looking like they'd rather be hitting the crowd.
Raw, hateful sludge is their bag, and they wield all the appropriate
squalls of feedback and gut-wrenching growls. The re-appropriation of
the term sludge to mean angry, ugly music no matter where it hails from,
as opposed to 'any vaguely heavy band from Georgia' is welcome.
Look out for their debut LP, coming soon from Raw Birth Records.
Next up, giving you a glimpse of just how varied the bands can be that
are loosely grouped under the banner of Doom, are Norwegian psych-heads
High Priest Of Saturn.
They have an organ player, so I'm
instantly curious as to how their set will sound. When Om-tattooed Merethe Heggset straps on her Rickenbacker bass, and the band let rip into their
first track, I'm instantly sold. Coming on like a spacier Acid King,
they capture everyone in the room with their hypnotic groove.
Check out their debut self-titled album, out now on Svart.
Huata describe their live shows as 'fuzz ritual ceremonies', and that's
about as perfect a way of describing their set as I can think of.
Looking like a Candlemass tribute singer in his robes and exploding-couch hair, their frontman has a powerful bellow, with the band creating fuzzed-out dronescapes to back
up his chanting. The
three or four beers I'd had by this point combine perfectly with the
music, and I can't help but sway with the ebb and flow of Huata's warm tones.
A perfect way to end the first night, I leave before Hexvessel, having caught their occult-folk janglings at last year's Roadburn, and really not digging it.
FRIDAY
Birmingham's Alunah were a great, soulful start to the day, their blues-y stoner rock going down well with the first D61 beer (of many) of the day. Vocalist Soph Day clearly worships at the altar of Lori S, her soaring voice weaving perfectly with the desert-driving guitar of husband Dave. I think this was the last show of their tour, but don't miss them next time they come around.
Their most recent album White Hoarhound is available through PsycheDOOMelic.
Chile-via-Sweden metallers Procession's set was probably one of the most uptempo shows of the weekend, at least to my ears. They had more trad metal stylings in the vein of Candlemass or Reverend Bizarre, which isn't really my cup of tea, but they played a solid set which I ducked out early of in order to catch Bell Witch.
Bell Witch were probably the most anticipated band of Friday. Almost
everyone I saw at the merch tables walked away clutching a vinyl copy of
their masterful full-length Longing, and the Dödsmaskinen room was
packed, people spilling out the doors with everyone straining to catch a
glimpse of the enigmatic dreadlocked duo.
Their brand of mournful, cavernous doom had one American dude I met almost in tears. I guess that's a good recommendation?
Fresh off
their tour with Bongripper, this is probably the 4th time I've seen
Conan in the past year, and the UK's fastest-rising caveman battle doom
band never fail to obliterate. Opening with 'Hawk As Weapon', they
quickly show everyone in the room just how damn HEAVY heavy music can
get.
They put out a split with Bongripper in honour of their tour together, you should really give it a spin.
Samothrace are heavy in a whole other sense, their
sprawling blues-sludge epics instil a melancholy ache in my chest, and it's more than
just the many beers in my system that make me get a little choked up.
Opening with 'A Horse Of Our Own' from their rightfully praised 2012
album Reverence To Stone they instantly show why their return to
playing live is a very very good thing. 'Awkward Hearts' from
their first record Life's Trade is a total revelation, I never thought I'd hear
anything from this album live.
Guitarists Spinks and Renata Castagna are capable of wringing
sounds from their strings that'll wring your heartstrings, their expansive, intertwining leads compliment six-string bassist Dylan Desmond's
playing perfectly.
They close out the set with the other half of their last LP, the beautifully unfurling 'When We Emerged'.
Samothrace are one of those bands that are just meant to be, and I'm so thankful they are.
We need their heavy music for heavy times.
SATURDAY
What better way to start your day than with some primo Italian sludge? I
guarantee it'll perk you up more than coffee ever could.
Trieste's
Grime have some of the most GodHating riffs around, and will make any
disciples of distorted misery truly Come To Grief. These guys, along with Bottom Feeder and Meth Drinker, are sludge's next filthy bands to watch.
Their new album Deteriorate is out today, as it turns out, on Forcefield Records.
Lecherous Gaze play some of the most bugged out, proto-punked up rock n' roll
I've ever heard.
At one point I thought the whole delightfully scumbaggy
crowd was gonna fall to the floor and start doing the fly, while sneering creep frontman Zaryan Zaidi twitched his way through the fastest, wildest set of the whole fest.
Damn good fun, I'm interested to hear if their crazed live energy comes across on their last record On The Skids.
Richmond's Cough were one of the bands I was most excited to
see after their cancelled performance at last year's HDDT, and their Ritual Abuse record is one of my favourites of recent years, so my
expectations were high.
Unfortunately they chose to eschew
playing the best songs from that album in favour of some of their
lesser known material, including 'Athame' from their Reflection Of The Negative split with
fellow RVA doomsters Windhand. No 'Cripple Wizard' or 'Crooked Spine'?
Come on, guys.
But that's my only issue, they still played brilliantly, rumbling the main salen to its core.
Meth Drinker. Holy shit. What can I
say that will accurately describe this performance?
This was one of
those shows that people will swear they were at for years to come. When I
first got into heavy music, it was because of shows like this one;
people losing all control of themselves, thrown fists and stage dives,
all trying to ensure mutually assured destruction. Meth Drinker will
restore your faith in aggressive music, their arms straining with corded
muscle as they wring the necks of guitars, lips drawn back and teeth
bared in a rictus as they spew bile into the mic.
If you're not listening to this band then what's even the point in having ears? DRINK METH.
Fellow Antipodeans Mournful Congregation were a different affair
entirely, their elegant, glacial funeral procession killing all remotely aggressive
vibes, resulting in a total comedown in atmosphere. What, you want to push-mosh to
funeral doom with a smile on your face? Good luck.
'Suicide Choir' was a personal highlight of their set.
One of the best things about Heavy Days is its ability to lure bands
across the sea for their first ever European shows. If in the first
year of your fest you manage to get Noothgrush to flatten the room,
you're doing it right.
So it was with almost hysterical
excitement that I greeted the announcement of Graves At Sea as one of
the headliners of HDDT II. I must have grinned in dumbfounded disbelief
at those words for an hour when I first got the news, and it wasn't
until seeing founding members Nick and Nathan wandering around the Stengade and
Ungdomshuset venues that I could actually wrap my head around it.
So when doom's handsomest band took the stage to close out
Saturday night, I was front and goddamn centre. Opening with 'Pariah'
from their split with Asunder, the swing of THAT opening riff had me
just about shaking my vertebrae apart. The track has this shuddering
juggernaut of a midsection that sounds like the heaviest thing you've
ever heard when it's coming out of a wall of amps instead of record
player speakers. The initial rhythm descends and deteriorates into waves
of sheer sonic mass.
Considering the impressive stream of booze flowing towards the stage, the band were still playing tight as hell, Nathan never missing a beat in between downing every bottle passed to him.
They debuted a track from a forthcoming split with Sourvein, their
first new material in eight years, and it had that perfect mix between groove and abrasiveness that has defined their discography up 'til
now. It sounds like they've never been away, and judging by the reaction
of a packed main room, everyone is just as glad as I am to have them
back.
When they launch into another piece of music I don't
recognise, I wonder if we'll get to hear something from their split with
Loss that's also due out later this year, but it turns out to just be a
new intro to what's probably their best song, and arguably one of the
best heavy songs of all time; Red fucking Monarch.
When the
intro twists into that opening riff, the whole room loses it. Heads are
banged, beer is spilled, stages are dived from... it's one of the best
moments of the whole weekend. The guitars ratchet the tension up with
each repetition of the riff, the drums build and build but never quite
lock in, the whole thing threatening to erupt at any moment. And then it
does, and I almost destroy my face against the stage. This is what
music is capable of. Sheer fucking bliss.
"Do you guys know a song called 'Praise The Witch'?" asks Nathan, knowing damn well there probably isn't a person in the room who doesn't. The second track of the night from Documents of Grief, another song I never thought I'd have the chance to hear live.
To the band, and those who booked them for the fest, a sincere thank you. You made my year.
SUNDAY
By this fourth consecutive day of mind-melting music, I was nearing
saturation point.
When Finland's Dark Buddha Rising began their
soundcheck, I thought my brain was about to dribble out of my ears, but I
toughed it out in order to witness one of those sets that those of a
more pretentious persuasion might deem to call a ritual.
The
band seemed to be comprised of two very different camps; four droning
stoners, and one shirtless maniac with a lump of rotting something on a
rope around his neck, a chalice of blood and a noise pedalboard. Bit of a
contrast, but it worked, the band pushing out pulsating waves of fuzz
and drone while the frontman let forth some terrifying howls, feedback,
and generally just made a mess of the stage and himself.
Perfect Sunday
afternoon listening.
Long-standing Danish funeral
marchers Saturnus are a lot more fun live than their chosen genre may
lead you to believe. The band look like they're having a blast playing
to a home crowd that obviously loves them, frontman Thomas A.G. Jensen at one point
being handed, bizarrely, a multitude of Kinder Eggs by some front row
fanatics. It's gotta be pretty hard to growl out paeans to death and
loss with a massive grin on your face.
Berlin's
Kadavar, all time champions in the World's Tightest Vest competition, were my surprise discovery of the weekend. I don't usually go in for the
whole retro rock revival thing, but when a band can make a room full of
crusties and doomier-than-thou beard metallers actually dance, you know
they justify the hype. High-energy Rock that will make you shake your
ass. 'Nuff said.
The fun vibe is quickly harshed when Southampton degenerates Moss take to the stage.
"Heavy Days... Horrible Nights..." intones frontman Olly Pearson before
the band starts in on the title cut from their new record Moss'
Horrible Night. I haven't spun this latest release yet (out now on vinyl from Rise Above) but judging by
the strength of tonight's set, in which almost every track is culled from
it, when I get around to hearing it I'm sure it'll end up being one of
my favourites this year.
The rapturous reaction that greets the
band as they end their set means they basically have no choice but to
return and doom us all to the 'Tombs Of The Blind Drugged'.
As almost every band was thrilled to announce, Heavy Days In Doom Town
is rapidly becoming one of Europe's best fests, and is an excellent
example of when the underground comes together to show that DIY
culture is alive and thriving. I'll see you all in Copenhagen for next year's best celebration of all things slow and heavy.
As I prepare to head out on another trip to the riff-filled land, Heavy Days In Doom Town in Copenhagen, I thought I'd give some lip-service to one of the bands I'm looking forward to seeing the most in the next week;
METH DRINKER.
A friend from that side of the planet (Meth Drinker hail from New Zealand) sent me the video for their track 'Combat Shock' and I was immediately on board.
Opening with a sample from the movie of the same name, when the music kicks in you'd swear you'd unearthed a lost classic from the nascent birth of sludge, that you'd just prised out a dusty mixtape from some scumbag's boombox that'd lain unused since 1993. The track ends with some warped, warbling, evil sounding Casio.
I fucking love when people know me well enough to send me shit like this.
Shortly after playing this track over and over on repeat, it was announced they'd be the support on Graves At Sea's first European tour and that they'd also be playing Doom Town, the fest I was spending my very last money to get to. Fuck yeah.
It wasn't 'til now that I managed to snare myself a copy of their full-length record, it's goddamn hard to track down since it's an edition of only 300. After seeing the words SOLD OUT on absolutely every distro I could find, I managed to snag the last copy from Mordgrimm.
Side A opens with 'Deprivation', all ominous fuzz and sampled screams. When everything comes together it sounds like New Zealand's answer to Noothgrush. It's impossible not to play Guess The Influence with this record, though the band themselves are open about their more blatant inspiration.
'Incurable Illness' begins with the pounding of drums, before Meth Drinker achieve what so few bands manage, and actually create a tune from the atonal. They wield feedback as a weapon, the discordance creating real discomfort, as opposed to all those Southern Lordcore bands who just throw it on top to disguise their lack of riffs and to make themselves sound like more than the hardcore bros with HM2s that they are.
Towards the end of the track the guitar cuts out long enough to let the bass prowl/growl menacingly.
'Ganja Mutt' is a mangy beast of a track, staggering on it's last legs, hoarsely barking it's last. About halfway through the guitar takes on a Dystopian tone before it drones into 'Combat Shock'.
Flip the side and you'll be confronted with the Iron Monkey-esque assault of 'Skull Smashing Concrete'. It's fucking good. In-depth reviewing skills, huh?
Next up they screech out a take of 'Dies Irae', the opening music from Stanley Kubrick's The Shining. Considering it's one of my favourite movies of all time, I am very fucking into this. The Melvins also did a cover of this on their 'Nude With Boots' album.
More droning, eerie versions of horror movie soundtracks please.
'Serrated Corridor' sounds just as rusty and jagged as its title, a few minutes of agonising creepy crawl. There is probably a deep-seated psychological reason I enjoy putting myself through this filth, but I'll happily remain untreated if it means I get to torture my eardrums with the Dystopia-worshipping second half of the track.
'Broken Down & Used Up' is how you're gonna feel by the time you reach this final track. I dread to think how I'll feel after seeing this band live in a few days. Probably being covered in filth and full of substances would be appropriate.
If you're at Doom Town and you see the guy with the death-doom denim who's barely clinging on to his sanity, buy him a beer because he'll be broke and broken.
