When I worked at KB Toys store #1051 in Morris Plains, New Jersey, they used to call it “Green Friday,” and as I started there when I was just turned 16, that was how I came to know Black Friday, which is what most people in the US call the day after Thanksgiving — the busiest shopping day of the year and the “official” kickoff of the holiday retail season.

Black Friday takes its name not from the shadow that consumerism at large casts on American culture, but from the simple fact that it’s the day that moves most stores from the red into the black for the year. It’s when they start turning a profit. Seeing an opportunity to continue their mission of promoting independent music culture, the fine folks behind Record Store Day got involved this year, bolstering the event with special releases and other initiatives. I’d expect more of that kind of thing next year.

Late last month, when I was at Redscroll Records in Wallingford, Connecticut, on my apparently annual autumn pilgrimage, I was given a flyer for their Black Friday specials, and knowing that I was going to be in the state for the Thanksgiving holiday, kindly suggested to The Patient Mrs. that I might like to wake up early and hit up the sale, which was 25 percent off everything in stock except for turntables.

So it was. My alarm went off yesterday at 5:35AM, and when I walked into Redscroll at 6:02 or thereabouts, the place was already full. Outside, the sun was just starting to think about rising. As I suspected I might, I had the CD racks mostly to myself (at least as compares to vinyl — LPs are by far the priority for the shop), but it was easily the most crowded I’d ever seen it. People were friendly, though, making way for each other and handing off releases to other potential buyers. I used the 25 percent discount as an excuse to pick up a few odds and ends, most of which I’d already heard, but hadn’t gotten full copies of, and other discs I’d wanted to grab this year that I hadn’t gotten the chance.

For example, I long since own Sovereign by Neurosis, but a quarter off the price was enough for me to grab the 2011 reissue, and stuff like Candlemass‘ Ashes to Ashes live record and Place of Skulls‘ As a Dog Returns had just kind of slipped through the cracks in terms of getting a physical copy. I bought The Body & Braveyoung‘s Nothing Passes to include in the next podcast (no big surprise: it sounds totally fucked), and was hoping to nab The Atlas Moth‘s An Ache for the End for the same reason, but they were out of it, and I drowned my sorrows in some cheap George Carlin, Goblin and Free instead.

Now that I’ve heard the low-end centric mega-grooves of Saturnalia Temple‘s Aion of Drakon, I’m officially stoked to check them out at Roadburn next year. And because I haven’t been able to leave there without doing so the last couple times I’ve been, I picked up a Cable CD, this time the 2008 reissue of their first album, Variable Speed Drive, the original version of which I’ve been hunting on eBay for a bit with no real success.

It was just over $100 for 10 discs, which wasn’t bad and was enough to earn me a free Redscroll t-shirt that I’ll wear proudly. I went back to the motel and crashed out for a couple more hours before getting up and heading south back to Jersey to go to work, and after that, on the way further south to Maryland, I requested yet another stop from The Patient Mrs., this one to Vintage Vinyl, to pick up that Atlas Moth record and settle the matter once and for all. I also got a full copy of Invisible White by Ancestors. Both at full price, and neither with any regret.

Vintage Vinyl in the evening was empty compared to Redscroll in the morning, which was troubling, since that’s pretty much the only shop in New Jersey where I can do something like stop in and pick up an Atlas Moth or an Ancestors CD and be confident that they’ll actually have such a thing. I know they had stocked some of the Record Store Day Black Friday special releases, but hopefully they come around to the sale stuff too, because god damn, I’d hate to lose that place as a resource.

In the meantime, a package showed up in the mail yesterday from All That is Heavy with a copy of Master Sleeps by Hills, which is jammier than I thought it would be, and the Rise Above reissue of Necromandus‘ Orexis of Death, which Tony “I Have Excellent Fucking Taste and Stone Axe is My Band to Prove It” Reed recommended a while back I make mine. Altogether, this probably represents the bulk of the music I’ll buy through the end of 2011, so it was good to send the year out with a bang. I should have plenty to keep me busy until January comes.

They veer stylistically to either side of the designation, but there’s little question that Connecticut four-piece VRSA are metal at their roots. Progressive metal, more precisely, and their Galaxia full-length released through their own Last Bastion Records proves adventurous in that regard without tipping the balance of heaviness versus indulgence. As the band’s name (interpreted, one assumes, from “Ursa,” as in Ursa Major and Minor), album title and artwork would lead you to believe, space is a central theme for VRSA, and that holds true for extended opener “Meteorite” as well, which sets up much of the musical breadth of Galaxia, though more than a few surprises still remain throughout “My Fingers Feel Like Razorblades,” “Saturnalia” and “Mona Lisa’s Eye.” VRSA’s prior self-release, Old Man Gray may have touched upon similar stylistic nuances, but even if it did, it took more songs to do it (11 as opposed to four), and as VRSA’s sound is based so much on progressive musical thought, it’s easy to imagine some of that has played out on the scale of the band itself as well. In either case, the rhythm section of bassist Jesse van Note and drummer John that do such distinguished work tying these songs together has already been replaced with Cheech on bass (also of Curse the Son) and Kevin on drums. How that shift will affect VRSA’s scope is impossible to speculate, but it’s worth noting that on Galaxia, the four-piece of van Note, John, rhythm guitarist/ engineer/vocalist Josh and lead guitarist Andrius make a cohesive sound out of a wide range of elements, and even though they veer into somewhat technically-minded areas, they do so without losing sense of the song at hand.

The keyword, then, is “balance” the whole way through, and that idea comes through Josh’s performance as well as the most prominent figure in the band and the one who started VRSA through experimentations at his Last Bastion Studio. His vocals range from well-mixed background metal screaming to melodic croons, and are layered but natural in their arrangements so that the other players in the band could easily take on the response roles in a live setting. “Meteorite” is the longest cut on Galaxia at 11:13 (immediate points for it being the opener) and stands itself out thanks to a chugging central riff and more strummed chorus that offset angular turns with smooth rhythmic execution. Van Note and John are fluid in following and expanding on the main riff, and three minutes into the song, Andrius embarks on one of Galaxia’s many impressive solos. Rather than putting on a clinic, though, in typical prog fashion, VRSA work well to bring the performances together as one complex whole, and that comes through in the mix of “Meteorite,” which highlights the individuals while celebrating what they do as a contribution to a larger idea. Josh and Andrius work well together on guitar, and that’s no less true in the long break section underscored by low-mixed sampled speech (Carl Sagan is credited in the liner notes with “spoken words,” obviously sampled, but I believe that’s referring to “Mona Lisa’s Eye”) than in the heavier crunch of the chorus riff to which VRSA eventually return, using a tinny digital compression that sounds a bit like a low-bitrate mp3 as one of several effects on the guitars and bass, on which van Note shines to end the track and lead directly into “My Fingers Feel Like Razorblades.” A volume and cymbal swell serves for easy transition, and though the song is among Galaxia’s most progressive stretches, Josh keeps his vocals mostly on the harsher side, breaking from screams and growls only for a throaty chorus.

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Moments ago, as I was trying to think of a headline for this post, I recalled that I’d visited Redscroll Records in Wallingford, Connecticut, last year around this time. Creature of habit that I am, the date on that post is Oct. 25, 2010. Here we are, a year and three days later and I’m chronicling pretty much the same trip. Surprisingly, there was no band overlap. Small favors, I guess.

It had been or at least felt like a while since I did a good round of caution-and-common-sense-to-the-wind record shopping, which I find is good for the soul, and especially since my prior visit to the store had come up empty, I was stoked to make out pretty good this time. You can probably see the stack in the picture above, but in case you don’t feel like clicking to enlarge it, here’s the rundown:

Aldebaran, Buried Beneath Aeons
Cable, Cable
Desert Sessions, Vol. I/Vol. II
Desert Sessions, Vol. III/Vol. IV
Dove, Dove
Grayceon, All We Destroy
Orange Goblin, Time Travelling Blues
Patton Oswalt, Finest Hour
Reverend Bizarre, Death is Glory… Now!
Sunride, Magnetizer
VA, Judge Not…
Wooden Shjips, Dos
Wolves in the Throne Room, Celestial Lineage

Of those, I already own the Desert Sessions, Dove and Orange Goblin records — but I still have my reasons for buying each. The Orange Goblin was used, and as I looked at it on the shelf, I discovered it was the Japanese version of the record, with their cover of Trouble‘s “Black Shapes of Doom” for a bonus track. That cover originally appeared on the Bastards Will Pay tribute, and since I’ve never had any luck tracking down a copy of that (it’s in my canon of daily eBay searches), I figured all the more excuse to get the import on the cheap.

The Dove, on the other hand, is probably the least reasonable of the repeat offenses. Where the Desert Sessions stuff was priced new, it was also like $12 a pop, and screw it, if I’m already spending money, I’ll hit that up. I looked so hard for those CDs the first time around, I don’t mind having doubles. For the Dove disc, though, there really is no argument. It was there, it was used, and I bought it. It’s out of print, and I might use it in a trade or something at some point — hey, if anyone wants to switch it for that Trouble tribute, drop a line — but beyond that, it was an impulse and an excuse to revisit the album from the Floor offshoot, which I hadn’t heard in years.

Grayceon was one of two discs I knew I wanted to pick up going into the trip — the other was Rwake, which Redscroll was out of — and since I’ve had those songs stuck in my head for the last month, I was glad to have the full version of the album to sate that. That wasn’t used, but it is now. The Wolves in the Throne Room is also their latest record, which I had every intent of reviewing but never got around to, but only had a disc and top liner for. There’s always one or two tracks on their albums that justifies a purchase, and now I can take my time finding out which ones those are on Celestial Lineage. I don’t feel as bad for not reviewing it if I go out and buy the record.

I bought Sunride‘s Magnetizer (1998, Boundless Records) because of a discussion on the forum of the worst stoner rock albums ever. Not that it’s mentioned in there, but Sea of Green is, and I got the names mixed up in my head. I had wanted to buy it just to hear what the worst stoner rock ever sounded like. As Magnetizer isn’t even close to the worst stoner rock I’ve ever heard, I can’t help but feel like I inadvertently won out.

The Wooden Shjips I got because I need to review their new album, West, for work and wanted something to compare it to. It was used, as was the Underdogma Records compilation, Judge Not…, which proved yet again that I don’t like comps until they’re out of print and desirable for their obscurity. I don’t remember the last time I heard Ironboss (guns don’t kill people, they do), so I’ll take it, and with Gammera, Pale Divine, early The Quill and Puny Human on there, all the better. Two discs of heavy rock I didn’t own prior. Six bucks.

Buying Cable in Connecticut had some oddball novelty to me, and the 1997 comp of their early tracks was used and is raw as hell, so that was a yes, and I didn’t even know Patton Oswalt had a new record, but there it was. Since on his last special, he was talking all about his wife being pregnant, I figured this would be his “I have a kid now” material (every comic has it), and sure enough, it is. Still good. The Reverend Bizarre and Aldebaran discs were impulse buys — I grabbed the Aldebaran with all the forethought of snatching a pack of Reese’s on the way out of the grocery store — but reckless abandon is no fun if it’s not actually reckless, so there you go.

The Patient Mrs. — bless her heart — had come in a few moments prior to collect me so we could make our way back south to Jersey, but as we were leaving, the dudes behind the counter informed that they’ll be doing a special Black Friday sale post-Thanksgiving, opening at 6AM with markdowns on new and used CDs and vinyl — which, at this point, takes up a good deal of the room they have. Turns out I’ll be up that way for the holiday, so if I’m not all drowned out in vino and tryptophan, I may just make that happen for myself. Seems like it could be fun, anyway.

More info on that and the store is here, if you’re interested. I’ll spare you the lecture on preserving independent record-buying culture, because I think you probably know it by now, but anyway, they do good work.

It was going to take a bastard of a bill to make me crawl out from the rock I’ve been hiding under and go see a show at the Acheron in Brooklyn, but Friday night, that’s just what I got. The show began two nights in a row of Earthride, and boasted hometown ultra-doomers Archon and the similarly-minded ambient evil deeds of Connecticut‘s When the Deadbolt Breaks in the support slots. After sitting in traffic for approximately four hours to get from Central Jersey to the gig, I was in just the right mindset for Archon‘s screaming dirges.

I had four dollars to my name and spent them promptly on a can of High Life. Archon were already loaded in and ready to roll. The room — longer than it is wide, black-painted cinderblock or brick with drywall and cement floor, small stage and high ceiling — wasn’t full, but the turnout was decent given the probably five or six other shows happening down the block in Williamsburg. The dreadlocked/male contingent of Archon‘s vocalizing duo, Chris Dialogue, bassist Nikhil Kamineni and drummer Rajah Marcelo are all also members of Alkahest (album review here), so with vocalist Rachel Brown and guitarist Andrew Jude the only parties unaccounted for in that band, it was kind of like the two acts had merged on stage. Heavy as hell, either way.

Jude, who as I understand it writes most of the material, always seems to have one foot planted in Dopesmoker no matter the project he’s involved in — and that’s not a critique, since anyone who’s heard Archon‘s death/doom plod will tell you he’s doing more than merely aping the influence. Dialogue set up down in front of the stage on which the other four members of the band played and did the kind of thrashing around I’ve come to expect from his performances, his low growls and high screams sounding no less vicious for the physical exertion. His vocals and Brown‘s — mostly melodic, but with some screams in there as well — played off each other well, and though the bass seemed to be lost in the room through much of the night, there was sufficient low end to stand up to the multi-pronged assault.

That was true as well for When the Deadbolt Breaks. Like Archon, they’re a band I consider friends more than a group I’d be able to really review with total impartiality (which, as a concept, is a farce anyway), but I was glad to see them anyhow and hear Aaron Lewis‘ violent levels of volume. He and bassist Roman Garbacick shared screaming duties and, together with new drummer Rich Kalinowski, crafted a sound as foreboding as the band’s name. Kalinowski‘s china cymbal kept getting stuck up next to Lewis‘ Sunn rig, but he worked with it and it was far and away the best drumming When the Deadbolt Breaks has ever had. Lewis has been through a few rhythm sections and singers over the years, but with Garbacick and Kalinowski (sounds a little like a law firm), he has two presences in the band to complement his own.

One of my favorite aspects of Deadbolt‘s sound has always been the creepy parts. Lewis has always been patient in steering the band through these sections of malevolent ambience, and though the Acheron wasn’t ideal for Garbacick‘s heavy bass or Kalinowski‘s china, the black walls and forced-in sound did work with the psychologically disturbing elements of their approach. Of course, they contrast those stretches with hurtful sludge, so you have to take it with the context surrounding as well. At this point, I’ve seen and done shows with them so many times over the years I’d be hard-pressed to pick a favorite, but this might be the most together lineup When the Deadbolt Breaks have put together yet. Here’s hoping it sticks.

And it’s funny to think of it, but in a way, Earthride were the odd men out on their own bill. Archon and When the Deadbolt Breaks — whom Earthride vocalist Dave Sherman referred to as “Acheron” (the name of the venue) and “When the Deadbolt Strikes,” respectively — had enough similarities of approach between them to be cohesive, but throw in Earthride‘s more stonerly-directed riffing, laid back doom groove and always-charming (no sarcasm; see previous sentence) stage antics, and it was a whole different kind of heavy. Bassist Josh Hart and drummer Eric Little were even more in the pocket than at SHoD, and guitarist Kyle Van Steinberg, also of War Injun, busted into a few freakishly good solos. I’m not 100 percent, but I think they might also all have been stoned.

They opened with “Fighting the Devils Inside of You” from 2005′s Vampire Circus and moved into a few cuts from last year’s Something Wicked album, starting with the righteously grooving title-track and “Hacksaw Eyeball,” which Sherman noted was about the band’s hometown in Frederick, Maryland, and which underscored the point of how much Southern Lord missed the boat on not putting out that record. “Hacksaw Eyeball” might have been Sherman‘s best performance, taking the blown-out screams and cleaner choruses of the album version and bringing them to life, but I wouldn’t discount the riff-riding the frontman broke out for “Earthride,” arms stretched out in front of him, steering an invisible stoner rock chopper down I-95 to some freedom most of us will never see.

When they were finished, the crowd demanded another song, and with some discussion, they acquiesced. The place never really packed out, but it was clear that those who showed up knew why they were there. I left soon enough after they were done and headed back through Manhattan to pick up The Patient Mrs., who’d spent the evening among the ranks “occupying” Wall Street — and if you ever want a convenient metaphor for what our relationship is like, that’s it.

Like I alluded to earlier, it was the first of two nights in a row I’d be seeing Earthride. The second was at Asbury Lanes in the surprisingly built-up Asbury Park, NJ, where they were on the bill for (former) Solace guitarist Tommy Southard‘s wedding reception. I’d write about that too, but it seems tacky somehow to review someone’s nuptial celebrations, however much Shiner Bock I may have imbibed. Suffice it to say a good time was had by all (again), and Earthride delivered the doom as increasingly they seem to be the only ones able to do.

Many more pics after the jump.

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This July 4, I decided to honor one of the most vibrant and enduring American scenes, namely that of New England. As the fireworks begin to sound, the vision begins to blur and the “USA! USA!” chants commence, I can’t think of any better way to celebrate Independence Day than sitting around listening to bands from Boston and the surrounding region. So that’s pretty much what I did.

It’s an area whose hardcore/punk rock anger grew up well, and you can still hear the deep-seated aggression in the riffs of Roadsaw and the ’70s-loving rockers of their ilk. There’s a lot of that kind of stuff in this playlist, I guess because that’s mostly what I think of when I think of the New England scene — straightforward, unpretentious heavy rock. But that’s by no means the beginning and the end of it.

What I discovered as I picked out acts to include was that there’s a vast array of styles and sounds that have come out of the Northeast over the last couple decades. Being south of it myself, the most I can say I’ve had is a tertiary experience — that is, I didn’t grow up in this scene — and though I by no means consider this audiObelisk Transmission a complete document of it, I think it’s made for a pretty good mix.

You get the ultra-hateful sludge of Grief, the organ-infused country rock of Antler, Phantom Glue‘s thrashing rhythms, the crushing despair of Warhorse and the avant weirdness of The Body. Save for Vermont, every state in New England is represented — Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New Hampshire, and Maine — and as a Yankee fan, I’d like it to be known that the title “Such Sawks, Such Sounds” is meant with the utmost respect and reverence for the Boston Red Sox. My alternate name for it was “The Green Monstah,” but I liked this better.

Everything but The Body was culled from a direct physical source — i.e. my rips — and the total winds up at 33 tracks, 3:21:44 runtime. If you’ve been curious what Blackwolfgoat sounds like, I put the track “Fear of Stars” in there, which is one of my favorites from Dronolith, and there’s recent selections as well from the aforementioned Roadsaw, as well as Black Thai, Curse the Son and Olde Growth.

Listening back to it, I dig the overall flow and I hope you do too. To listen, click play above, and to get the file, click the header image, click here, or follow the link in the sidebar. Complete playlist is after the jump.

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By the time I had eyes to see the above wisdom scrawled on the wall next to the urinal at Cherry Street Station in Wallingford, Connecticut, I was already several Newcastles into the night. The last time I was at the venue was for a show with A Thousand Knives of Fire, Bloodcow and others, and that was years ago, but not much had changed. Bands still set up in the corner of the main room, the bar was up a couple steps and there was a patio outside for the smokers. Hockey was on the big screen and beer was cheap. I had arrived early — a fruitless stop at Redscroll Records preceded — and immediately set about chipping away at the cash in my wallet. When in doubt: drink.

I had a good hour to do so, and Newcastle goes down like candy, so the cash and the beer were both going quick by the time Stone Titan started up. Fuzz Fest — a collection of local Connecticut acts put together by Ron Vanacore of Curse the Son (who played third) — didn’t actually feature all that much fuzz. With a name like that, you’d expect six or seven Fu Manchu clones on the bill, but instead, the lineup culled acts from different prongs of the doom umbrella, starting with Stone Titan‘s heavy sonic debt to the riffs of Jimmy Bower. They were so young I wondered if they’d have been allowed at the show if they weren’t playing it, but honest about where they came from; an Eyehategod cover went a long way in transitioning them in my mind from “derivative” to “charming.”

Either way, their collective heart was in the right place, and theirs was the start of a night of several impressive covers. The Connecticut scene, if nothing else, has good taste. King of Salem, who played second, covered “Swinging the Chain” from Black Sabbath‘s Never Say Die, and that sat well alongside their straightforward heavy rock. Guitarist/vocalist Simon Tuozzoli and drummer Mike Petrucci were joined by a bassist (who, if I’m not mistaken, had the night’s only five-string; one too many) and guitarist who looked imported directly from another band.

I was a fan of King of Salem‘s Prophecy way back when I reviewed it, so it was cool to hear some of that material live, and while it was abundantly clear that Tuozzoli and Petrucci were the core of the band, the other half, situated on the right side of the stage area, did well with their parts, the guitarist adding solos to Tuozzoli‘s riffs that were both fluid and accomplished. It was a strange set, but a good one, and an excellent transition point between Stone Titan and Vanacore‘s own outfit, who occupied the center position on the bill.

After hearing their Klonopain full-length, I suspected that the disc, while enough to give an overall impression of their sound (and a favorable one), didn’t do the band full justice, and their live show proved that assertion correct. Petrucci was pulling double-duty, drumming for Curse the Son as well as King of Salem, and he’d reportedly only practiced with Vanacore and bassist Cheech once, two days earlier, but you wouldn’t have known it watching the trio play. He adapted to the songs excellently, and Vanacore‘s tone, which came out of two green cabinets and a green head with “WEED” where “Green” might otherwise have been, was among the highlights of the night.

As the driving force behind the show, their crowd was the biggest. The way the P.A. speakers were set up, it made the stage area look small, but it was actually deep enough so that most of the equipment was backlined, and the high ceiling in the room made it so Curse the Son were able to pull off a loud, full sound, which they did, expressing a clear love for the riffy arts. Admirable enough that Vanacore got the show together in the first place, but doubly so that Curse the Son didn’t then headline or screw anyone into a shitty timeslot. It was a well-constructed evening and good to see everyone getting into the bands. Going to shows in New York, it’s easy to get lost sometimes in how much of a social obligation it is. For me at least, as an outsider up for the weekend, it was refreshing to have it be just about the music.

And just when I was most feeling that after Curse the Son‘s set, there came Lord Fowl. It’s not really doing them justice to call them the “find of the night,” because I’d heard three of the total five bands before, but they fucking destroyed, either way. A double-guitar/double-vocal four-piece from just south on I-91 in New Haven, they powered through a set that included the best cover of Thin Lizzy‘s “The Boys are Back in Town” that I’ve ever heard — and I’ve heard a few — and hands down the night’s highest rock quotient. Their set had that same feeling you get watching Roadsaw or one of those really killer Small Stone acts rip it up, where you just know this is how rock and roll should be done and the bullshit factor is nil.

They had a CD for sale, which I bought, and if there’d been others, I’d have gotten them too. The night had already been a winner, but Lord Fowl absolutely made it, and when they finished, I immediately commenced nerding out about how righteously good they were. I haven’t listened to the disc yet only for lack of time, but I’ll get there for sure, as I want to hear if they’ll be able to translate their live energy to an album. Here’s hoping.

Post-that, anything was going to be a comedown, but Sea of Bones closed out the night in front of a wall of amplifiers (the drums, also huge) and emitted the kind of volume that rendered earplugs all but useless. Seriously, I could feel them vibrating in my ears. The levels on their three mics — one for each member of the band — were off, but honestly, with that much noise coming from the cabs, I don’t think anything would have helped. You could’ve blown out the P.A. three times over and still not heard the screams of drummer Kevin, guitarist Tom or bassist Gary (all first names only). Easy to blame the sound guy for that, but even he could only do so much to stem their massive tonality.

My last beer was gone by the time they started playing, and it had been my intention to split a couple songs in, but Sea of Bones held my attention and feet in place. If you’ve never heard them, their ultra-doom borders on post-metal at times, but is mostly angrier and less intellectually pretentious than much of that genre. If they toured, you wouldn’t need my recommendation to check them out, because they’d already be huger even than Tom‘s pedal board. What they had in common with the rest of the acts in the Fuzz Fest lineup, though was a readily evident passion for what they were doing.

And if you’re going to book a show of local acts and try and foster a developing scene, that’s how you do it: by loving what you do and showing that to others. Kudos to Vanacore on picking the lineup he did (the shout-out in my direction from the stage was unnecessary, but also appreciated), since they may have all come from different ends of the genre, but there was an undercurrent that bound them all the same. When I left, it was too late for me to call my mother as per the advice of the men’s room wall, but I was comfortable anyway in knowing my time had been well spent.

More pics after the jump.

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On-again/off-again Connecticut doomers Vestal Claret make their latest return with the 7” Virgin Blood, released by Sarlacc Productions. The trio, which began anew even as frontman Phil Swanson announced his departure from outfits Hour of 13 and Nightbitch (Swanson has also done time in Earthlord, Atlantean Kodex and Upwards of Endtime, and may or may not still be a member of Seamount), market in formidable anti-Christian traditional doom, the guitar work of Simon Tuozzoli (see also Kings of Salem) setting a melodic stage for Swanson’s lyrical explorations of sin and occult mischief. Those who’ve followed Swanson through his many projects will find Vestal Claret hitting on familiar territory in terms of both his performance and overall style, but the two tracks of Virgin Blood – the cover of which features a menstruating nun masturbating with a sex toy, naked but for her habit (I didn’t use it as the lead image for this post in an effort to make it safe for anyone reading at work) – offer plenty of depth along with their Sabbath worship and ritualistic atmosphere.

Tuozzoli, who also helmed the recording, handles bass and guitar on Virgin Blood (one assumes, since there’s no one else listed on bass and he’s credited with “guitars”) and works in more classic metal influence that one finds in even the heavier moments of King of Salem, marking a distinct shift in approach for Vestal Claret. Together with drummer Michael Petrucci, he’s able to arrange complex structures around riffs that don’t sound redundant even when they repeat and choruses that are memorable without being hooky or overstated. That’s especially true on opener “Hex of Harm,” where Swanson incites the devil to smite his enemies with a signature New England-type Christian vision of witchery. The chorus here is particularly strong both musically and lyrically, and with the start-stop riff from Tuozzoli that follows and the subtle plod Petrucci adds to the drumming, it’s easy to get excited about the eventual full-length to come from the band. At about 4:20, the guitars break into the line that will serve as the basis for most of the song’s second half, eventually developing into a new structure of verse. It’s not an easy transition to make, but all three members of Vestal Claret pull it off, finishing heavy.

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I don’t really buy into the whole Record Store Day thing. It’s cool that the website has a map I can find stores on wherever I go, but honestly, I don’t buy vinyl and just about every payday is “record store day” for me. As an institution, I think the record store is something worth saving, which is why I go to record stores and spend my money on a regular basis. Well, that and the records, anyway.

As I’ve been out of the country three Record Store Days in a row, I thought I’d do a little pre-shopping this year and while I was in Connecticut for the weekend earlier this month, I swung by my favorite shop in the state, Redscroll Records in Wallingford. It’s always good to know you’re on friendly ground, and when I walked in, they were playing Black Pyramid‘s self-titled album, so I immediately felt at home. Time before last, if you’ll recall, it was Sleep‘s Dopesmoker.

It doesn’t quite match the batch of discs I pulled in last time I was there in the fall, but I still managed to find some good stuff. I grabbed yet another Monster Magnet promo CD — it’s amazing how many there are floating around — called Five Reasons to Testify that has the awful God Says No shot of them with Dave Wyndorf‘s metal codpiece on the front (I’m not even going to show it, as well as the first Firebird record, the first Quest for Fire and the 1999 Bong Load Custom Records issue of Fireball Ministry‘s Où est la Rock? Not a bad haul, all told.

The Firebird I’d picked up at the band’s merch table at Roadburn 2009, but that was the European reissue and this was the original on The Music Cartel, so I couldn’t resist. When I reviewed the second Quest for Fire album, Lights from Paradise, I said that I’d have to go back and buy the first, and it was good to do that, although I think I prefer the second anyway. I couldn’t remember if I owned the Fireball Ministry or not, but decided to take the chance anyway and it paid off. The record kind of rules. Very Fu Manchu, except maybe for the Obsessed-esque “Death Dealer,” which actually features Guy Pinhas on bass, but enjoyable throughout. Probably the most stoner rock of all their albums, which suits me just fine.

There’s a hole punched in the UPC of the Fireball Ministry, which means it was probably someone’s promo, and I always think that’s interesting, and wonder who got the record initially, what they did or didn’t do with it and how they came to sell it. Every time I get emailed another link to download a new release, I get that “born too late” feeling. I’ve gotten plenty in my day, don’t get me wrong, but when I think of the shit that could have come in my mail (all those Monster Magnet promos, for one) and all the silver-backed bootleg CDs I could have bought in the pre-CDR era, I get a little sad. I guess we make the most with what we’ve got. It’s fun hunting this stuff down, anyway.

Most likely I’ll be back at Redscroll before too long, but just figured I’d share anyway, since it’s a quality store and deserves to have the word spread about it as much as possible. Check them out here if you haven’t yet, or find them on that Facebook the kids love so much.

New Haven, Connecticut, purveyors Curse the Son got their start a few months after the untimely end of guitarist/vocalist Ron Vanacore‘s prior outfit, Sufferghost. Sufferghost guitarist Tony Buhagiar was inflicted with a burst aortic aneurysm in 2007, and though he survived, that was more or less the end of the band. Together with bassist Cheech and drummer Rich Lemley, Curse the Son is now among the brighter hopes for doom in the Land of Steady Habits. The trio self-released their first full-length, Klonopain, late last year and are actively trying to ignite the Connecticut scene, playing host to the inaugural CT Fuzzfest on June 4 at Cherry St. Station in Wallingford.

It’s a formidable lineup joining Curse the Son on the CT Fuzzfest bill (you can see it below; all that’s missing is When the Deadbolt Breaks to bring in some ultra-doomed atmosphere), and I wanted to get a sense from Vanacore about what his hopes were for Curse the Son and the scene as a whole. Klonopain draws influence from a host of thick-riff purveyors, and aside from an understanding of the timeline between moving from Sufferghost to this project, I was hoping to find out what was driving Vanacore stylistically and in terms of keeping Curse the Son its own entity musically.

The guitarist was happy to cooperate, and I’m proud to say that of all the email interviews ever conducted for this site (and that’s plenty), this is the first one to have ever been done via private messages back and forth on the forum. I don’t know how you feel about that, but I think it’s awesome.

So thanks to Vanacore for taking part and please enjoy the following Six Dumb Questions:

1. After Sufferghost ended, how did you decide to start over again with Curse the Son? Are you still in touch with Tony? What’s his current condition?

It was not a decision that came easy. When Sufferghost ended, I was so devastated that I just stopped playing music altogether. You see Tony and I have a really cool relationship. There is this unbelievable chemistry between us. There were never any disagreements…we genuinely love and respect each other’s riffs, lyrics and ideas. I’ve never been in a situation like that where two guys are literally in the same head space all the time… It was incredible!

But when it ended so suddenly, it was a shock to the system. I couldn’t even go into the band room anymore, it was to depressing knowing it was over. I think it was about six months later, Tony and I were talking and he told me that I needed to play again. That is when I began writing material for Curse the Son.

As far as my relationship with Tony now, we talk all the time. He moved back to his hometown of Hayward, California, a couple years back. After a lot of hard work, he is back playing guitar again! His new band is called Tuco Ramirez and they rule. Good old ‘70s style hard rock. It makes me so happy to know he is playing again, I miss him dearly and hope that one day he returns to the East Coast so we can pick up where we left off.

2. What are some of the differences stylistically between Curse the Son and Sufferghost? Is there anything specific you wanted to do differently in this new band?

Stylistically, I view Curse the Son as a flip of the Sufferghost style. With Sufferghost it was classic stoner with doom accents. The Curse the Son sound is much doomier without losing the sense of melody and cohesion Sufferghost had.

Tony is a much better guitar player than I could ever hope to be. The dude has the chops. I am a much more rhythm based guitar player. So I play to my strengths… the riffs and the groove.

3. Has your songwriting process changed at all with the switch? How do you come up with riffs, and how do the songs come together from there?

The very first time me and Tony jammed I recorded it. It was such a good jam that we ended up with all the riffs for three out of the four songs on our Leave the Church EP! Most of our tunes came from jamming.

The process changed dramatically as Curse the Son began. It was me and my 8-track. Get stoned and write riffs for hours. Then hash out the quality ideas and start putting the song together. It was an abstract process but I’m pretty fortunate that I have the ability to hear a “finished song” way before it’s actually finished.

Initially there was no band, it was just my vision. I had no idea what I was going to do with the music. I just wanted to create something that was crushingly heavy and would honor my friend.

4. Tell me about recording the songs for the full-length. How do the album versions of the tracks that were originally on the EP compare to the originals?

The basic tracks for our CD Klonopain were recorded live. Just the three of us in the same room vibing off each other. It was a very cool, stress free experience. We recorded it at Underground Sound here in Connecticut. The owner Chris DelVecchio, is a good friend of mine and he gave me free rein over the place. We started recording on a nice sunny day in mid-May 2010, and didn’t wrap it up until December! I took my time with it because I could. Klonopain is the first record I’ve ever been a part of where I am 100 percent happy with everything about it.

As far as the Globus Hystericus EP goes, you have to remember that I recorded all the instruments myself. The intention was to have a product that I could use to promote the Curse the Son name and sound. Soon after its release I started to look for likeminded musicians to play with.

It was Cheech (bass) and Rich (drums)’s idea to rerecord those four songs. I was hesitant at first, but I’m really glad we did it because the new versions just bury those EP tracks, no question.

5. I know about the Redscroll Records store and Cherry St. Station in Wallingford and a couple other places around, but is there a Connecticut scene at this point? Are there other bands you especially enjoy playing with, or is everyone up in Massachusetts?

There is actually something starting to happen again in the New Haven scene. Mostly this is due to a couple friends of mine, Opus (Dead by Wednesday) and Eric Morton (Big E Promotions) who have been booking metal nights at places like Cherry St. Station in Wallingford and Bix’s Cafe in Branford. Toad’s Place has turned a blind eye towards metal for the most part, which sucks. The CT scene is weird, it comes and goes every 5-10 years or so.

Most of the bands we play with are very different from us, but we seem to fit in on any bill and we usually stand out which is always cool. I didn’t think there were any other stoner/doomy type bands around here but I was wrong!! They are just spread out all over the place and have never unified. I am hoping to give that a boost with CT Fuzzfest 2011 which takes place at Cherry St. Station on June 4. As far as I know there has never been any type of show featuring all bands like us here. I hope it gives the whole genre a kickstart around here. It’s time for Connecticut to get on board!

The lineup for the gig is:
Sea of Bones
Lord Fowl
Curse the Son
King of Salem
Stone Titan

6. What’s next for you guys? Any plans for shows around or outside of Connecticut or more recording before the end of the year?

The next step is to begin writing for the next release. I have a bunch of riffs ready to go, and look forward to jammin’ with the fellas.

We would love to play out of state, if we can find the right gigs, right bands and the right venues. Touring is probably not a reality as of now, but if the right opportunity came, hell yeah!

I hope to get the band back in the studio by late fall and have the next CD out in early 2012.

Thanks to your readers who have responded with such excitement and purchased the CD. To purchase Klonopain, it is $5 shipped (US) $10 (UK). Core9@netscape.net is our contact email and Paypal address.

Curse the Son on ReverbNation

Curse the Son on Facebook

Guitarist Ryan Adams of Connecticut traditional doom outfit Nightbitch recently got in touch with a link to a pro-shot live clip of the band in their new trio format. Nightbitch was previously fronted by none other than Phil Swanson — who has been in more bands than I can count but recently vacated the lead-singer post of Hour of 13 (still remaining in Vestal Claret and Seamount) — and drummer Chris Taylor has taken up the vocal role in this revamped incarnation.

Those aren’t easy shoes to fill, but Taylor does well with it, and as Nightbitch moves forward in following up their Sex and Magic EP (released last year on limited cassette and vinyl), it should be interesting to hear what he comes up with for melodies to complement Adams‘ doomly riffage and the formidable low end of bassist Mark Eles.

Here’s “Disrober/Sex and Magic,” filmed live somewhere in Connecticut:

Comprised of two-thirds of the now-defunct stoner outfit Sufferghost, Hamden, Connecticut riffers Curse the Son emerge with the first full-length since their 2007 inception, the self-released Klonopain. It’s an album almost entirely unabashed in its influences, proudly flying the backpatches of Sabbath, Sleep, Trouble and Goatsnake in its seven component tracks, the vocals of guitarist Ron Vanacore fitting right in line with the heavier end of slow stoner/doom rock. Curse the Son, more or less in a wasteland as regards their local scene, maximize their tonal heft in Vanacore’s guitars and the bass of Cheech (no, it’s not that Cheech), as if making up for what other bands might also have on offer, while also keeping a more or less straightforward approach to the style that should be familiar to those experienced in the ways of the heavy underground. In many ways, Curse the Son is a scene band without the scene. All the more respectable then, for them to stand alone and not compromise on what they want to be musically.

And judging by the material on Klonopain – four tracks of which appeared on Curse the Son’s 2009 Globus Hystericus EP in previously-recorded versions – what they want to be musically is slow. To their credit, even when they’re not playing slow, on parts of “Anullus of Zin” or opener “Unbearable Doer of Wrong,” they sound like they are. Vanacore’s guitar tone is essential to this, as he takes a heavily-fedback solo on the opening cut, offsetting some of the Goatsnake-ery in the central riff, but still keeping that molasses-boogie feel. Drummer Rich Lemley does well with the tempo changes the riffs present, but isn’t a flashy player by any stretch or as present in the mix cymbal-wise as he might be on other records in this style. No doubt, Klonopain is led by the guitar and mixed in a way that heavily favors it, but for weedian riff metal, that’s more or less par for the course. Vanacore’s vocals – entirely clean and in the Sabotage-era Ozzy tradition – offer enough change throughout to stave off monotony, patterning themselves on “Y?” in a way that reminds of what Floor did so well and only recently got credit for: blending semi-melodic vocal accessibility with balls-heavy doom guitar, while also leaving room to kick into ultra-Sabbath mode toward the end, launching with a suitable “Right!”

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When last I checked in with Wallingford, Connecticut‘s Redscroll Records, I walked out of there with a cassette copy of Torche‘s Meanderthal Demos. It’s a purchase I still consider the right move to have made, and as my most recent trip there was most likely going to be my last until Springtime, I figured I’d make the best of it. A thorough search of Redscroll‘s used section has done me right on numerous occasions, and this latest was no different. Dig this haul:

Bottom, Made in Voyage
Chrome Locust, Chrome Locust
Clutch, Jam Room
Fu Manchu, Daredevil
Jethro Tull, Aqualung
Lost Breed, Save Yourself
Lost Goat, Equator
My Dying Bride, Turn Loose the Swans
Natas, Delmar
The Obsessed, The Obsessed
Spiritual Beggars, Ad Astra

A few of those CDs I already own, but there are difference. The Fu Manchu is the original Bong Load Records version, where before I only had the reissue, and though it’s my third copy of Jam Room — probably my least favorite Clutch album — it’s the River Road Records pressing, and I think they only made six of them or something, so I was stoked to find it. Ad Astra is the Music for Nations digipak edition, and Chrome Locust is in a jewel case, where I’d only ever seen the digipak, so I grabbed that as well. The Jethro Tull had a sticker on it that it was the first CD issue, which made it too good to pass up. If you’re wondering, by the way, whether or not I believe everything I read on stickers stuck to jewel cases: Yes. Yes I do.

Lost Goat is on Man’s Ruin and I didn’t already own it, so that was a given. The Natas record I thought might have been a different catalog number than mine, but no, it’s a genuine double. I was bummed out on that until the other night when I thought to myself, “Gee, I sure would like to listen to the first Natas album,” and I actually had a copy on me because I was holding onto it to write about today. Maybe one just wasn’t enough.

Of the two Hellhound Records purchases, the highlight is unquestionably The Obsessed‘s The Obsessed. I had the Tolotta reissue previously, but you can’t beat the original. I had seen it for sale on Redscroll‘s eBay store, and asked if I could buy it right there in the shop. They were more than accommodating. The other Hellhound album, Lost Breed‘s Save Yourself, was the US version, where I’d only had the European before. Or maybe that’s reversed. I don’t know. The catalog numbers and back cover art are different. Apparently that’s enough for me these days.

I legitimately hadn’t owned the Bottom or My Dying Bride CDs (or the Lost Goat, which was meh), and I was stoked especially to hear the former, which didn’t disappoint. Crazy to think it’s been five years since Bottom put out their last album, but I suppose it has. Hearing their debut for the first time, it was easy to tell what Rise Above, Man’s Ruin and Small Stone all saw in the band, and by that I mean killer riffs and lethal groove. An excellent capper for an even more excellent haul.

On my most recent trip there, the dude behind the counter of Wallingford, Connecticut‘s Red Scroll Records pretty much had me pegged. I don’t know if it was the shirt I was wearing (I don’t remember which it was, but all I wear are band shirts, so it could have been anyone) or what, but shortly after I walked into the store, the strains of the aforementioned Dopesmoker by Sleep started coming through the stereo system. I guess I’m an easy mark.

As most of my previous excursions to Red Scroll have been, this one was successful, yielding used records from The Gates of Slumber, Quitter, Slough Feg, reissues of the first two Enslaved albums (also used), recent comedy records by David Cross and Eugene Mirman and, as I stood at the register, like a candy bar at a grocery store checkout, a six dollar pink cassette of Torche‘s Meanderthal Demos.

Of course, I was psyched at the CD haul, but the Torche went in first. I buy cassettes because I have a tape player in my car and I feel like if I don’t use it, I’m somehow missing out on an opportunity. The Patient Mrs. thinks this is ridiculous, and she’s a little right. I enjoy the absurdity, and in the case of Torche‘s Meanderthal Demos, I was stoked to hear the band’s material in a rawer form, since, though the finished album was enjoyable, it was also incredibly polished, production-wise.

Getting to hear the roots of songs like “Grenades” and “Across the Shields” was both interesting and exciting, since it sounded good and was a cool experiment for the ears in this new context. The songs are different, obviously less developed, but enjoyable anyway, and though Torche‘s capable grasp of melody is present, there’s more edge to the demos that makes them sound a little rougher than Meanderthal itself. In other words: right fucking on.

A pink cassette is a little more hip irony than I usually allow myself to engage in, but whatever, it sounds good and it only cost six dollars, so I’d be a bigger asshole for not hearing it. And it was worth every penny, since the tracks still show off Torche‘s high-quality songwriting in their rudimentary form. I didn’t expect to come out of Red Scroll having just paid six dollars for a pink cassette, but it wound up being the highlight of the trip and something I’ve gone back to for multiple listens already. All hail the impulse buy.

Connecticut darkened self-sustaining metallers When the Deadbolt Breaks have announced a partnership with the recently-launched FuzzTown Records. The now-four-piece outfit is responsible for some seriously deranged, murderous, brutally slow doom, and as much as I’d like to give the album a review, ethics and the fact that I sing vocals on the track “As Flies for Flesh” oblige me otherwise. Suffice it to say, Deadbolt play some incredibly fucked up shit and every time I play it I feel like there should probably be pills to stop whatever it is I’m thinking.

Here’s the PR wire with the news and where you can get your free download of the new album, The Last Day of Sun.

FuzzTown Records is amped to announce the signing of psychedelic dirge metal vagabonds When the Deadbolt Breaks. Their devastating new release, The Last Day of Sun, is a double CD that promises to be the darkest and most musically evolved CD this cult of nomads has released to date.

This collection marks the next two twisted chapters in the audio mindfuck of producer/vocalist/guitarist Aaron Lewis. The band (rounded out by Mike Connor on drums, Jon Harrison on guitar and Roman Garbacik on bass and vocals), brings new levels of aggression to the songwriting all the while bathing The Last Day of Sun with endless depths of low-end riffage and trippy psychedelia.

To mark the launch of FuzzTown Records, a label dedicated to bringing new and innovative music to the public, we’re releasing When the Deadbolt Breaks’ The Last Day of Sun as a free download, exclusively through FuzzTown Records! Tell your friends, spread the word! Enjoy!

Download When the Deadbolt Breaks, The Last Day of Sun here.

Connecticut was where I ended up this past weekend after much back and forth indecisiveness. A familiar enough setting by now, I can even navigate around Wallingford without a map, which came in handy when for the third time (here’s the second) I stopped in at Red Scroll Records on North Colony and hit their precariously positioned used rack to see what I could find. Of note, they had both Croatan‘s Curse of the Red Queen and Soulpreacher‘s Sonic Witchcraft, which I picked up in Maryland at SHoD X, and there were a couple other points of interest along the way, but what I ended up leaving with, paramount in the haul, was Lamentations by UK epic doomers Solstice and Suspect Symmetry by Ontario sludge-grinders Buried Inside.

I’ll be honest, I almost didn’t buy the latter. After reviewing their latest record earlier in the year I barely listened to it, and Suspect Symmetry didn’t seem to justify my $7.50, but curiosity won out, and since this was the record that ostensibly got them signed to Relapse, I figured it was at least worthy of hearing. And yeah, I guess it was.

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