By way of a confession, I?ll admit that before I listened to Culted?s Relapse Records debut, Below the Thunders of the Upper Deep, I first checked out the self-titled three-song EP from Howl in a kind of, ?Who?s that doom band on Relapse again?? brain fart. After hearing the two side by side, there?s pretty much no question. Howl complement their Ginsbergian name with Lamb of God-style riffing and Culted viciously bite off pieces of Khanate atmospherics while popping pills of half-speed Nachtmystium psychedelia. No real question which is the doom band.

But if there was one to start with, it?s only because Culted — a four-piece with three members in Winnipeg, Manitoba, and only vocalist Daniel Jansson in the correspondingly northern climes of Sweden — are so frickin? new. Below the Thunders of the Upper Deep is Culted?s debut, as in, no EPs, nothing. Just one self-released demo and this. Information apart from a narrative of mutual appreciation leading to collaboration on the part of Jansson and multi-instrumentalist Michael Klassen (credited with guitar, bass, percussion and noise) is sparse as to when they actually got together and made the record happen, and for the most part, the six mostly extended tracks are left to speak for themselves.

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When last I heard from bleak Connecticut doomers Sea of Bones, it was the 2006 Grave of the Mammoth EP, and since the track listing of that release was three songs titled as chapters I-III, and on the self-released cardboard digipak full-length The Harvest (which has apparently been out for a while but I just got my hands on), it’s IV-VI, I’m going to assume I didn’t miss anything between. Except maybe some growth on the band’s part, because while The Harvest retains the oppressive darkness of its predecessor, Sea of Bones have clearly thickened up their sound — evidenced in the massive, inhumane guitar tone of Tom after a few minutes of ambient intro on opener “Chapter IV.”

They’re down to a trio now after having whited out the name of second guitarist Al, but there’s nothing missing from the band, as densely packed as these songs are with sludge riffing. Kevin‘s drumming could stand to be higher in the mix, but the way the vocals of both Tom and Kevin plus bassist Gary are buried under the instruments as well it works in an encompassing and/or apocalyptic kind of way. Listening to The Harvest, you get the sense that this is the way things have to be. Hopelessness is nothing new to doom — particularly doom as afflicted as this — but Sea of Bones make an old aesthetic vital once again with their raw passion and unbridled turmoil.

The songs respectively check in at 17:20, 15:15 and 20:13 (saving the epic for last, obviously), and each one hypnotically traces a path from initial stillness to gratifying apex — sometimes going there more than once — taking structural cues from the post-metal set without giving themselves over completely to that sound. The tortured screams on “Chapter V” over the always-risky-in-doom double-kick drumming are particularly blood-curdling, and the song’s quicker pace gives it a different feel from the chapter right before. Sea of Bones are evolving and their music is becoming more complex. Not a bad thing.

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Psych-metal wunderkind Indy Shome, guitarist/vocalist of the Providence-by-way-of-New-York-by-way-of-Hong-Kong outfit Queen Elephantine and sometime label head of Concrete Lo-Fi Records, returns with his band’s second full-length to be released through a yet-undetermined imprint, Kailash. Named for the Himalayan peak on which Hinduism says resides Lord Shiva, the album was mastered by Billy Anderson, who joins the ranks of Sons of Otis and Elder (with both of whom Queen Elephantine has released splits) on the growing list of names associated one way or another with the band.

With Shome on the experimental outing is vocalist Rajkishen Narayanan, former Agnosis/Tides Within bassist Andrew Jude Riotto, The Cutest Babyhead Ever multi-instrumentalist Brett Zweiman on tabla and other percussion and drummer Chris Dialogue, but contrary to what the personnel might suggest, Kailash relies mostly on a minimalist aesthetic, with few parts that would qualify as conventional doom. Instead, Shome and the band offer sparse, loosely-structured excursions into a spontaneous, improv-sounding creative dimension. There is obviously a plan, but it’s written down on 30 separate pieces of paper and it’s up to you to put them in the right order to find out what the hell it is.

Take the hypobaric drone of opener “Search for the Deathless State,” which, led along the cliffside by a thick Riotto bassline, finds itself falling deep with a spoken word movement and slowly encompassing noise. At 15:39, it is a song almost entirely void of payoff — that is, if you sit through the whole thing expecting Sleep-style guitars to kick in and for Kailash to become an entirely different kind of Holy Mountain, you’re going to be disappointed — but the sense I get is they were going for unsatisfying in the traditional sense.

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Shreveport, Louisiana is a good ways north and west of the fabled New Orleans, and likewise, Ketea offer a sound north and west of fabled Nola acts like EyeHateGod, Suplecs, Mystick Krewe of Clearlight and Crowbar. Their emphasis, both musically and vocally, is on dynamics – each of the six songs on their Doom Dealer/The Church Within debut, Alpha, features finely honed changes that come in so hard they’ll crack your sheetrock and go out so smooth they’ll caulk it back up. Good for outdoor listening, I suppose.

Tonally similar to Zoroaster‘s Dog Magic and mixed so the thick, hairy (which would have to be the next step up from fuzzy, right?) guitars and bass are primary considerations when listening, the sample-laden Alpha demonstrates its creators’ thoughtfulness in a variety of ways apart from the ease of transitions. All six tracks begin with the same letter as the album title, for example, and the songs are arranged so that “A Bomb a Nation,” the longest of the bunch, comes at the end of the vinyl’s side A. These may be small touches, but they show Ketea are putting real thought into their work, they’re passionate about it, where many bands just record songs, throw them together and call it a record.

What Alpha does exceedingly well is pull the listener into it and shove them out again. The trio – guitarist/vocalist Emily, bassist/vocalist Lonnie and drummer Trey – immediately set about modal deconstruction with opener “Alchemystery,” which begins with Acid King-style (if less confident) clean vocals from Emily before smashing Lonnie‘s screams into the eardrum at 6:12. The interlude following the solo at 4:29 that leads into that segment helps set the range and overall mood of the album.

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Sometimes it’s all about the riffs. For Seattle trio Brothers of the Sonic Cloth, who recently lent their support to Yob for their return show, the hypnotic repetition takes center stage immediately with “La Mano Poderosa,” the first of two tracks on their limited 2009 demo. At a healthy 12 minutes, the song finds the band led by guitarist/vocalist Tad Doyle (Tad, Hog Molly) along a path of six string enlightenment. Bassist Peg Tully (Inciting Riots) and drummer Aaron D.C. Edge (Tsuga, Iamthethorn, the unfortunately short-lived Swearingen, Himsa, etc.) each play an equal role in propelling the song forward.

Doyle changes up his vocal approach, mostly relying on a kind of melodic shout that is effective in accenting the layers of guitar. In a way, it’s almost like the band is trying to be heard over themselves. Very punk rock — slowed way the hell down, of course.

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Come to think of it, there were as many bands who were supposed to play Europa in Brooklyn last night who didn’t as there were who did. It’s a three-to-three tie! Outlaw Order, If He Dies He Dies and Pristina were nowhere to be found, but When the Deadbolt Breaks, Negative Reaction and Sourvein picked up the slack, and though we standing in the club held our breath awaiting the arrival of the latter, there was a collective exhale when frontman T-Roy Medlin walked in during Negative Reaction‘s set. They’d apparently gotten lost on the way and it had been back and forth as to whether or not they’d make it the whole night.

Driving from the valley to Brooklyn is a daunting task, and not just because of the traffic. With Manhattan between me and that most “Howya doin’?” of boroughs, it’s like climbing a mountain just to get there. When I showed up and saw the room largely empty save for a sampling of the NYC stoner rock faithful, I was glad I’d made the trip. In a town of eight million people and so few heads around, one is not only just as conspicuous by one’s absence as one’s presence, but also it’s just good to show up and support your friends’ bands.

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