There are a few things that remain consistent throughout Against Nature releases, and chief among them is that it’s never too long until the next one. To wit, the Maryland trio’s latest, Ground Down, was released late in 2011. It was their second album of the year behind Stone Over Stone, and their 18th record overall since 2005. They are staggeringly prolific and almost completely self-contained. Guitarist/vocalist John Brenner handles most of the writing, all of the engineering and mixing, creates the artwork that accompanies the internet and limited physical releases, and puts them out at his own pace on his Bland Hand Records label. Perhaps most amazing of all is that Brenner, in all my interaction with him over the last several years, has never shown any sign of pretense, of rockstar fantasizing or of being sustained in his creativity by anything other than the love of what he does. Against Nature – the three-piece including the rhythm section of bassist Bert Hall, Jr. and drummer Steve Branagan – does not change its lineup or stray too far from its subdued and classical aesthetic, and perpetually, what you see is what you get. It’s rare you’d think of heavy rock as having a sense of humility, but Against Nature have done it 18 times now and already announced their next album, Fallen Rock, which is slated for release early in 2012.

Self-reliance taken to such a degree can have its perils, but Against Nature fall prey to almost none of them on Ground Down. They don’t have time to give into over-indulgence as some self-recorded, self-released bands might – they’re too busy already writing the next album. Yet none of their material ever sounds rushed or as manic as you might think. Ground Down opener “First Things First” offers mid-paced blues and is among the album’s more active tracks, Hall throwing serious groove into a start-stop bassline that’s pure Marylander, and Brenner picking away at a lead that’s the perfect complement to the song’s downtrodden vocal. By and large, “First Things First” sets the tone for Ground Down, but they work in and around the bluesy aesthetic. Brenner’s keys give “Written in Bone” a semi-Southern feel, layered in with the guitar, put the production here, as ever, highlights a sense of restraint in the music that connotes a peaceful mood no matter where the album actually goes, and that includes the more rocking “Sky up, Ground Down,” from whence the record takes its name. Where in the hands of Stone Axe, it might bristle with Thin Lizzy-esque energy (and anyone with a soul will tell you there’s nothing wrong with that), Against Nature make it almost pastoral and keep that vibe into “Evergreen,” which grooves out a sincere ‘70s influence while asking nothing more from its audience than a few nods for Brenner’s solo, which is among the album’s best.

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They’re among the original harbingers of Maryland doom, and Baltimorian four-piece Iron Man have seen ‘em come, and seen ‘em go. The band’s last full-length, I Have Returned, came out in 2009 (review here), and in the time since then, they’ve been through I don’t even know how many drummers — at least two — and frontman Joe Donnelly has also departed, leaving “Iron” Al Morris III on guitar alongside bassist Louis Strachan, drummer Mike Rix (since out of the band), and newfound singer Dee Calhoun for the new Dominance EP. If we were doing SAT analogies, I might say that Calhoun : Rob Halford as Donnelly : Ozzy Osbourne, minus the physical mimicry of onstage persona. His voice fits well over the four tracks of Dominance, of which I’ll have a review in the next week or two.

In case you missed it, Iron Man aren’t the only ones who premiered a new video today. Pagan Altar, who already had a new track up this week, posted a brand new video from their forthcoming album, Never Quite Dead, for the song “Dance of the Vampires.” That video is on the forum here, and I’d recommend it if you’d like to get your doom fix a little bit more when you’re done with “Ruler of Ruin” above. Right on.

Tomorrow night I’ll be in Philly to check out Earthride, C.O.C. and Clutch at the Trocadero, which I’m confident is going to be a complete blast. While I’m posting links to new videos on the forum, Mike H. shot a yet-unreleased Clutch song Wednesday night in Maine, and embedded it here. Thanks as always to him for his diligence. Anyway, if you’re gonna be at the show tomorrow, I’m the fat guy with the long hair, beard and the brown messenger-type camera bag, singing along to the chorus, “The party’s over/You all got to go/The wolfman is coming out.” I imagine it’ll be the bag that most distinguishes me.

This week, aside from that probable Iron Man review, I’ll have a writeup on tomorrow’s show, as well as the new Cherry Choke album, and — if it kills me — I will get Skype to record on my laptop and hook up that Grifter interview. I’ll also have the December numbers (I have no idea how they are), and since it’ll be 2012, at some point in the week I’ll do a preview of the year to come, most likely in the spirit of last year’s two-parter of records I’ve heard and ones I haven’t yet.

And as we learned today, there will be some albums I won’t hear at all, and for that, I apologize profusely.

I wish you a safe, insanely happy and healthy New Year, wherever you are and whatever you’re doing. I hope your 2012 is overflowing with joy and personal fulfillment, large cash settlements and whatever else it is that will make you glad to be on this planet. Raise a toast to the killer records to come and we’ll see you back here Monday for more adventures in adjectival phrasing.

Ah, to be young, creative, and constantly on the road throughout the European Union. Such seems to be the plight of Baltimorean heavy psych-blues specialists, The Flying Eyes. Seems they’ve just about bypassed every bit of their locality in favor of a more worldly approach to supporting their two albums, The Flying Eyes and earlier this year’s Done So Wrong. An interesting way to go about it, but it seems to be working for them.

Their new video, for the song “Overboard” from the latest album, can be viewed below with the background info following, and then be sure to check out the flyer for their newest string of European dates, which is set to kick off Nov. 17. Dig:

The music video was shot on Super 8 film in Baltimore, September 2011 by Veruschka Bohn from Germany (http://veruschka.tumblr.com). Developed by hand, this video pays tribute to the analogue days of video production and was successfully presented as a pre-diploma project at HfG Offenbach, where Veruschka studies Photo & Film. The song “Overboard“ is taken from the album Done So Wrong (Trip in Time/World in Sound, 2011).

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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Among the most potent of heavy rock power trios, Spirit Caravan began as Shine and was Scott “Wino” Weinrich‘s next project post-The Obsessed‘s reunion in the 1990s. The band was Weinrich alongside bassist Dave Sherman, who went on to form Earthride, and drummer Gary Isom, who’s played with everyone from Pentagram at Valkyrie at this point and is currently playing guitar in Weed is Weed, which is fronted by Sherman. Their 1999 full-length, Jug Fulla Sun, is one of the greatest albums ever released — period.

The clip below finds Spirit Caravan of that era (they also released the Dreamwheel EP in ’99) playing in Copenhagen, Denmark, in November 2000. What’s interesting about this show is that as you watch it, you can see there’s almost nobody there. The YouTube video information — provided by user TNTFreedooM — sheds some light on what the situation was:

Because of Motörhead playing Copenhagen the same night, and Megadeth the night before, only 11 people showed up, but the band did not care as you can see in their performance. During the show another 10 people came. Before the show Wino said to me, “We don’t care, we’ll just play a private show for you.”

…Which is why he’s Wino. Enjoy “Black Flower” and “Healing Tongue” on this Wino Wednesday:

I alluded to it the other day in the third SHoD post, but wanted to save the details for this. To briefly recap: I got to Krug’s early Sunday for the third day of Stoner Hands of Doom XI in Frederick, Maryland, and having an hour to kill, decided to go record shopping. Not the first time in my life I’ve made that decision.

Using my magic cellophone, I got directions to CD/Game Exchange on N. Market St., and while on my way there, passed a sign on E. Patrick with Rock & Roll Graveyard printed on it. With hopes that it wasn’t some shitty irono-fashion boutique with $50 torn up Iron Maiden t-shirts on sale for dumb hipster girls who’ve never heard Killers, I nonetheless parked my car and decided to investigate.

A fucking treasure trove, this place was. If I bought vinyl — which I don’t — I wouldn’t have gotten out of there without putting down at least $100, but as it was, I spent only one-tenth of that (or $10) and still got a host of goodies for the effort. From a brief perusal of the CD bin, it was apparent that the owner, whose name is Chris Wolfe, knows his heavy. There was a lot I already had, but I did manage to find the SPV digipak reissue of the self-titled album from Uriah Heep offshoot Weed. It’s another one of those lost heavy ’70s classics that five people in the world preach like gospel and no one else has ever heard of, but man, it’s a pretty killer record. A bit all over the place, but when it locks in, it locks in hard. Dig it.

So that accounts for $5 of the total $10 I blew. The next $4 went to Black Sabbath tapes. Yes, plural. I spent $4 and got four tapes: Master of Reality, Vol. 4, Sabotage and Heaven and Hell. At a buck each, I couldn’t really ask for more. The only one I haven’t played is Vol. 4, because it would require clever fast-forwarding to get past “Changes,” but it was awesome to hear the little differences in the sound on Master of Reality, or the live version of “Sweet Leaf” tacked onto Sabotage — and Heaven and Hell, well, I’ll pretty much take that record on any format I can get it. An all-time favorite for one measly dollar, no way I was leaving that.

Wolfe, who also plays bass in Fat Chick Meat Haul, is a genuine record hoarder and has had the store open for about three months. Most everything he was selling came from his personal collection, and that included the tapes and the lime green 8-track edition of Jethro Tull‘s Aqualung that accounts for the last of the $10 I spent at Rock & Roll Graveyard. Yeah, the tape’s ripped, but what the hell do I care? Jeebus save me, it’s Aqualung on 8-track! I don’t have a player anyway — for a buck, I’m happy just to look at the damn thing and sing “Wind-Up” to myself.

The best part? Well, all this stuff was pretty great, especially for the price, but the best part came in talking to Wolfe about old records and heavy rock and whatever else. He told me about an album from a band called Tin House he’d picked up not too long ago, and when I said it sounded cool (because it did), he went ahead and burned me a copy, right there on the spot, free of charge. And he was right, it’s rightout proto-proggy heavy blues, from the Beatles “oooh-la-la-la” on “30 Weight Blues” to the driving lead of “Silver Star” and the string arrangements on “Lady of the Silent Opera.” I think I might dig it more even than the Weed record.

I don’t know when I’ll be back in Frederick again, but whenever it is, you can bet your ass I’ll be checking in on Rock & Roll Graveyard. Until then, I’ve got the Sabbath tapes in my car, the Tull on my office shelf, and the Weed ready to go. I never made it to CD/Game Exchange, but finding a shop of the niche caliber I did, I’m hardly crying over it.

Find Rock & Roll Graveyard on Thee Facebooks here.

It was early when I pulled into the parking lot of the strip mall that houses Krug’s — around 1PM for a show that wouldn’t start for another hour. I nonetheless made my way inside, mostly to see if there had been any obvious schedule changes or anything like that, and on the way, passed the front door of the Baptist church next door, only to hear the songs and testimony happening inside. I stood there for a minute and listened. Seemed pretty exciting. Since stuff like SHoD is about as close as I get to religion, I felt like I could relate to all the yelling and singing. I’m pretty sure what I witnessed the crowd doing during Earthride‘s set last night counts as “testifying.”

Being early today, I decided rather than sit there by myself for the extra hour, I was going CD shopping. On my way to CD and Game Exchange in downtown Frederick — which is charming in the way that white people find expensive boutiques and wine bars charming — I passed a sign that read “Rock and Roll Graveyard” on E. Patrick St., and immediately parked my car in the next spot I could find. More to come on that later, but I’ll spill it now that it was a pleasurable way to pass that time. Here are the notes from when I got back to Krug’s Place:

Heavy Burner: I don’t know if the 2PM start time was to allow church to get out or what, but the last day of SHoD XI got off to a strong start with this Virginian trio. They were definitely of the scene, but the bass had thick fuzz to it that approached — especially in a couple jammed out parts which were complemented by subdued vocals — the Colour Haze-style low end I’ve been bemoaning the complete lack of in the American scene. Of course, the fact that Chris Kozlowski of Polar Bear Lair Studio had been handling sound for the whole weekend might have had something to do with it too. Everyone’s bass sounded good. The guy recorded the last Blue Cheer album! Of course the bass sounds good. Nonetheless, Heavy Burner had a good balance between jams and structure, and though I’m not sure it would be on a recording what it was live, I was disappointed they didn’t have CDs yet. In progress, reportedly.

Fire Faithful: First heard these guys when I reviewed their split with the revitalized Lord, and they were heavy Southern riff metal both then and now. More doom than stoner hands, but still definitely a Maryland band. Some harsh vocals from Brandon Malone reminded me of Alabama Thunderpussy‘s more metallic moments, set to some Pepper Keenan riffs, and it was a good fit. They brought their female companions (two of them, anyway) on stage to provide backing vocals on a song called “A Devil in London” that I had to strain to hear, but the song was catchy anyway, and they were clearly looking to impress whoever showed up early, even going so far as to break out their Orange cabinets instead of using the house Mesas. Growth to be had, but they fit right in.

Acid Queen: Were not at all what I expected. Totally thought they were going to be a super-fuzzed out stoner doom band, you know, like friggin’ Acid King. No dice. A four-piece hailing right from Frederick, they were entirely instrumental and played a thrash/NWOBHM hybrid that’s bound to go over well at the Defenders of the Old fest the bassist — who seemed to be in charge, or at very least was the one who had a mic for saying thanks — said they were playing with their original lineup. SHoD was also their last show with their current drummer, so there seemed to be a bit of upheaval in the band. On the most basic song level, their material sounded like it would benefit from a singer, so it wasn’t necessarily a surprise to find out they had one at some point. Whatever else happens, I hope they hold onto their young lead guitarist. Kid was a ripper.

Earthling: Following Jake from Valkyrie‘s recommendation yesterday, I was legitimately excited to check these guys out. They played a crusty Virginian blackthrash that sounded like their dads locked them in a closet with nothing for sustenance but what they could get from Motörhead, Darkthrone and Venom records — and if that’s the case, kudos to pops for raising them up right. They too were young, and pummeling. They had a couple slower parts and enough groove to keep the doom heads into it, but were coming from somewhere else entirely. Super heavy, and with the kind of urgency that can only come from a total lack of self-consciousness. Punk rock arrogance as filtered through thrashing fuckall and tectonic tonality. If they lived in Brooklyn, they’d be playing museums.

Demonaut: It was about time someone covered “Supernaut.” If you think about it, it was bound to happen. Demonaut stepped up to the plate for all of us, and with their two basses and lead guitar cutting through, they did the massive low-end heaviness of Master of Reality justice. Not a compliment easily earned: it did take them two bassists to do it. Between the two four strings and the three vocals (both bassists and the guitarist), Demonaut had a lot going on, but none of that was enough to distract me from the fact that drummer Dwayne had the deepest snare of the weekend, which he bought from a Texan high school marching band on eBay. Thing sounded huge, and where the lone guitar might have otherwise had a hard time standing up to the noise surrounding, a White Matamp and Rectifier labeled “Boogie” did the job quite nicely.

Wrath of Typhon: I was getting tired by the time they went on, and they had some radio-voice DJ from a Pennsylvanian metal show in a Fear Factory hat introduce them. The guy thanked everyone for coming out for the whole weekend, and yet I hadn’t seen him either Friday or Saturday, or even earlier this afternoon. Yeah, thanks for coming out. Anyway, soured though I was, Wrath of Typhon‘s upbeat semi-trad metal pulled a good response as the afternoon began to transition to the evening, but Cough had just shown up and a bunch of people went outside to hang out by their van, so that cut attendance inside somewhat. I went to my car and placed a call to The Patient Mrs. before going back in to catch the end of their set. They brought up a hooded Sickie Wifebeater, who’d been sitting behind the cabinets the whole time, for a song, and then the SHoDmaster himself, Rob Levey, took the stage for the second time of the weekend to lead vocal for an “Electric Funeral” cover. Two Sabbath covers right in a row. Someone really should’ve put in dibs beforehand. All the same, it was a rousing rendition of the song.

Nagato: Probably the most pleasant surprise of the day. They had also played SHoD X back in 2009, but I missed them then. More the fool I, because the West Virginian two-guitar four-piece played an unassuming kind of rock that was a reminder of how much a band can accomplish when they set out to be heavy in mood and not just volume. Nagato were easily the most subdued act of the day, and since Against Nature played Friday night, but there was no dip in heaviness or power in terms of the effect on the crowd. Their dark fuzz blues seemed an odd fit at first, ultimately showing what a guitarist can do when making the most of the mystic side of Orange reverb, and the songs were psychedelic not so much in swirls or overarching echo, but if you closed your eyes, the music wanted to take you somewhere. Exhausted as I was, I hadn’t expected to be blown away, but I was. They were a joy to watch, and it was a letdown that they didn’t have any music for sale. I’d have bought everything.

Cough: Death by volume. Quite a contrast coming off Nagato, and even before they went on, I was counting down the minutes until I could justify to myself getting in the car and starting the drive back to Jersey. They also looked like they were counting the minutes, and in the case of drummer Joseph Arcaro — who was the hardest-hitting percussionist of the weekend, hands down — it felt like minutes between each slamming of the toms toward the end of “Ritual Abuse.” Cough played two songs that I could discern, and I was surprised they didn’t have more of a crowd than they did, as they seem sonically to have transcended this scene and moved onto the touring market, but they were loud as fuck and doomed likewise, and they thanked Rob and Cheryl for doing another SHoD and plugged Lord‘s upcoming set, so rockstar assholes they weren’t. That’s more than you get from some returning heroes. Part of me had been hoping that, in the wake of Hour of 13‘s last-minute cancellation, that Cough would move into the headliner spot and Lord would play earlier, so I could leave sooner and start the trip north, but I was glad to have seen Cough without the hipster audience baggage they might otherwise be surrounded by.

Lord: And then it happened. The first song they played was typified by the chorus line “The wait is over,” and when Lord finally got going, that’s exactly how I felt. I basically stuck around today and tonight as long as I did just to see Lord. Everything else was gravy. I’ve been a fan of this band since 2005/2006, and I was stoked to learn they had gotten back together and started going again in the wake of Ol’ Scratch‘s demise. They were ridiculous in how heavy they were. I dug the hell out of it, I really did. I wish we could get bands like this up here. I wish people up here gave a shit. Fuck ‘em. I’ve driven four hours for a set like that before and I’m sure I’ll do it again. I didn’t stay the whole time, though — that was never the plan — but I did score a copy of their new record, which I’ll be reviewing in the coming weeks, once I manage to get my head around it. If the songs I saw them play at SHoD were any indicator, that might take a while. Heavier, louder, meaner. Lord is righteousness personified. I was ready to raise my hand up like the Baptists next door and give praise.

The ride back up, I nailed. I missed Backwoods Payback and Weed is Weed, but got back here just before 2AM (right around when I’d probably get to the hotel if I’d stayed at the show), and it’s 3:30 now. I listened to Tin House and Weed and then did a Sabbath trio of Sabotage, Heaven and Hell and Master of Reality, and by the time that was done, I’d arrived. I love driving when no one else is on the road. It was raining, and I don’t know how many 18 wheelers saw me pumping my fist to “Lady Evil” or “Children of the Grave,” but who gives a shit? I live for days like today, for weekends like this one. Much thanks to Rob and Cheryl Levey and Krug’s Place for their hospitality, to Ken-E Bones, Joe Wood and Andrew Jude Riotto, George Pierro, Jason Clemins, Kyle from Rochester, Tim Otis, Jake Adams, Fez McGinnis and everyone else down there for making Stoner Hands of Doom XI such a special experience for me and everyone else who was lucky enough to see it. Here’s to keeping doom doomed.

Taking the day off work to get down here in time was the right choice. I sat in traffic on I-83 for long enough that, had I put in even the most temporary, in-and-out-type appearance at the office, I’d have been late. And the south side was just rubbernecking. There was an overturned 18-wheeler that had spilled whatever it was carrying on the northbound side, and it was closed off. They were redirecting traffic through wherever the hell it was, and it added an hour onto my trip, easy, but it could’ve been much worse. I could have been driving that truck.

Because it’s already two in the morning, and because I’m tired, and because there’s a lot to get to, I’m going to cover Stoner Hands of Doom XI in note form. That seems like the most direct line between point A (the show) and point B (the coverage). Tomorrow, pending sobriety and/or the requisite energy — both of which are in short supply at the moment — I might decide to do something completely different. I reserve that right. For now, here goes:

Borracho: After the ride down from NJ and the arrival at the Days Inn where I’m staying, I opened up the bottle of wine I brought with me, turned on the stream of the Yankees radio broadcast and tried to relax a bit before heading back out over to Krug’s Place. Needless to say, the “fuck it” demons were out in full force, but not missing Borracho was a big part of what got me off my ass and back in the car over to the venue. Really. They were even better tonight than they were with Truckfighters, and they basically started their set with the soundcheck. I guess it was kind of a stutter way to kick off the fest, but once they got going, they were locked in for sure. They still need to tighten up their presentation, but already they were too good for the early-showing crowd that caught them. I felt fortunate to be in that number.

Ancient Astronaught: I didn’t realize it until I talked with guitarist/vocalist Skipper (who identified himself as such) following their performance, but all three members of the Fairfax, Virginia, three-piece are formerly of Ol’ Scratch. Skipper was in the band in 2008 and toured with them, and some of the lessons he learned in that now-defunct outfit he’s obviously brought to Ancient Astronaught — most pivotally in tone. Theirs was the first of several truly sick Sunn tones throughout the night, and though their songs were basically vehicles for conveying riffs and shouts and the occasional bit of stonerdelia, I’ve zero complaints with that. They were loud as hell and I dug it as one of several instances tonight in which my earplugs were rendered useless.

Against Nature: They’re another one. Speaking of Sunn amps, Against Nature guitarist/vocalist John Brenner played pedal-less (quite a contrast to Skipper‘s setup during Ancient Astonaught; his pedal board literally lit up) through a Sunn Beta Lead, and it was one of the most gorgeous tones of the night. Bassist Bert Hall, Jr., also won out on the night’s best bass sound, as it was crisp and clear, but still full and totally fuzzed. Having been a fan of Against Nature‘s work for so long from the albums, it was excellent to finally see them live. The laid back air Brenner brings to the recordings was still intact, but they definitely had a vibrancy to their set as well. Killer to get some classic rock on the SHoD bill. I spent their whole set thinking about how much ass a tour of them and Stone Axe would kick.

Windhand: I’d seen their name forever, and they had the drummer from Facedowninshit (he might also be in The Might Could — and where the hell, might I ask, are those guys this weekend?), so I was excited to finally see Windhand in-person, and they didn’t disappoint. They laid it on thick and viscous with Electric Wizard-style riffing, and that was enjoyable enough, but their considerable noise element only made the whole affair heavier. Strange to have that kind of noise following Against Nature, but it worked. It was that kind of bill, and the people who were there were more than willing to go along for the ride. They were a lot of fun, and I tried to acquire a CD, asking both vocalist Dorothea Cottrell and guitarist Garrett Morris,  to no avail. The Richmond outfit continue to elude me, but they killed.

Apostle of Solitude: Here’s who I was at the show. I was the guy who, as Apostle of Solitude — now featuring Devil to Pay axeman Steve Janiak on second guitar/vocals alongside bassist “Iron” Bob Fouts, drummer Corey Webbb and guitarist/vocalist Chuck Brown — was setting up, yelled out “Celtic Frost!” I have zero regrets at having done so, especially since they wound up closing with “Procreation of the Wicked.” They played one or two new songs before getting there (I seem to recall one was called “Good Riddance” or something like that), and were generally awesome. I’d seen them in NYC a while back and they were good enough at that time for me to buy not one, but two, t-shirts, both of which I still wear on the regular. If they’d had a third to go with their SHoD set, I’d totally have picked it up. Their split CD with The Flight of Sleipnir and Rituals of the Oak would have to suffice, and as I’m sitting here in survival testimony, indeed it did.

Negative Reaction was supposed to headline tonight in place of The Gates of Slumber (Lord, also listed on the poster above, will play Sunday), but fest organizer Rob Levey got on stage as Apostle of Solitude were finishing what would have been their regular set to announce that a member of the band had an immediate medical emergency. Guitarist/vocalist Ken-E Bones and drummer John “Old” MacDonald were hanging out in the Krug’s parking lot, so pretty safe to assume it was bassist Damon who had the trouble. They’ll hopefully be able to round out the bill tomorrow.

It was the last night of the big trip to Detroit. The Patient Mrs. and I had seen some friends, done a lot of touring around the city, drank no shortage of Motor City Brewing Works’ Ghettoblaster and other assorted local brews, and I figured the best possible way to cap being in Michigan was a drive to Flint to catch Clutch at the Machine Shop.

Seeing Clutch in Flint was something special because of the much-enjoyed Live in Flint, Michigan live CD, but also because the timing of the trip had meant I didn’t get to catch either their stop in Brooklyn or the two boat shows they did on a cruise liner around Manhattan (though they did have the exclusive t-shirts from the latter for sale with their merch). These things happen. I also got married on a night they were playing Starland Ballroom. Sometimes schedules conflict, but the chance to see them in a place they deemed supportive enough to record a live album there wasn’t one I was going to pass up, so to the Machine Shop we went.

The venue was basically a cement box, and on the walk inside, I saw several bumper stickers that said, “The driver of this vehicle owns a gun” in varying clever ways. One was just the word “Flint” in all capital letters with a handgun replacing the ‘L.’ At times like that, I always have to remember to keep my wiseassery in check. In any case, the bikers outside seemed to have security in check. Inside, it was crowded and hot and though the reformed trio incarnation of C.O.C. had been slated to support Clutch on the tour, there was on stage some reggae-influenced Sublime-sounding band who were very much not the Animosity lineup.

C.O.C. had, as Clutch vocalist Neil Fallon later explained, pulled out of the tour for “medical reasons.” Pretty vague, and no appendectomies were mentioned, so I don’t know what the deal was. They didn’t play. The douche rock band, whose name I never caught, ran through their set and seemed to appreciate the crowd, but it just wasn’t my thing. Several drunk dudes standing immediately to my right ate it up, so I guess there’s that.

Clutch came out in good time and kicked into a set half-full with surprises. They opened with “Sea of Destruction” from Slow Hole to China, and “Promoter (of Earthbound Causes)” from Blast Tyrant was especially cool to hear, and drummer Jean-Paul Gaster led “Mercury” jamming right into “Child of the City” from From Beale Street to Oblivion. The single, “50,000 Unstoppable Watts,” from their latest album, Strange Cousins From the West, was right on the money, “Immortal” thrilled the crowd and a plugged-in blend of the acoustic and electric arrangements of “Tight Like That” from the self-titled was ultra-grooving — bassist Dan Maines in the pocket while Fallon and Tim Sult doubled up on guitars — but “Animal Farm” sounded slow coming out of “Struck Down” and overall, the band looked kind of tired.

And if they were, it’s certainly understandable. The aforementioned boat shows were basically comprised of two full gigs in one night, with a show the night before and one the night after in Pittsburgh. I don’t think Clutch have taken significant time off from touring since Strange Cousins From the West was released in 2009, but no matter how used to it you might be, five shows in four days — with another one still to come the day after before finally getting a night off — is a lot. Still, part of me can’t help but think it’s time Clutch got off the road, took a month or two away from it, and came back to write another album.

If the “The party’s over/You all got to go/The wolfman is coming out” (or thereabouts) chorus to the unnamed new song they played is any indication of the level of morale — which, admittedly, it could just as easily not be — then yeah, maybe it’s time to step back on the gigging and focus on the creative side of the band for a while. That said, Clutch never fails to satisfy as a live act, and the Machine Shop show was no exception. That new song sat well alongside “50,000 Unstoppable Watts” in the band’s latter-day bluesy style, and the biggest surprise of the evening came as they began to round out the set and threw in “Subtle Hustle,” one of Blast Tyrant‘s catchiest and least-celebrated songs. It’s a personal favorite, anyway.

They ended the pre-encore set with “Electric Worry”/”One Eyed Dollar” from From Beale Street to Oblivion and came back after long enough to let the room cool down a little to do a few acoustic cuts. Fallon once more joined Sult for the ensuing three songs, which felt more like a miniaturized second set than an encore. The first cut they played, I didn’t recognize, but featured heavy lyrical mention of Abraham — could be new, could be a cover, could be old and reinterpreted, but so far as I could tell it wasn’t “Abraham Lincoln” or anything else from the back catalog. They followed that with “Basket of Eggs,” originally from Jam Room and more recently the title-track of the bonus acoustic EP from the Weathermaker Music reissue of Blast Tyrant, and finally closed out with “The Regulator.”

Kind of a morose note to end on, especially when I’ve seen other Clutch shows that cap more like a party than a concert — the time they were joined on stage in Atlantic City by then-touring partner Scott “Wino” Weinrich for “Red Horse Rainbow” comes to mind — but I like to think it was more the band’s knowing how in their element they were and how much the crowd was willing to go with them that let them make a few unexpected turns for the night. I mean, it’s one thing to get on stage, blast out “Burning Beard,” “Big News I & II,” “Elephant Riders” and “Careful with That Mic” — and nothing against that; I’ve seen and enjoyed that many times from Clutch — but though exhausted, they also seemed completely at ease. Why not relax and do something different when you’re among friends?

I was out of the Machine Shop on the quick and back to Detroit, from which I’d launch the long ride back to New Jersey that was then looming overhead. No regrets, though. If anything, I lost more sleep being excited about the show afterwards than I lost by going, and The Patient Mrs. was kind enough to start the drive in the morning anyway. Definitely it was the right choice to make.

More pics after the jump.

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Even before you press play on Battle Stations, the third self-released album from Maryland instrumentalists Admiral Browning, the album is provocative. With fantastic, intricately-drawn artwork from the Los Angeles-based Sean “Skillit” McEleny, there’s a narrative happening across the album’s fold-out visuals. The digipak of Battle Stations opens as normal, and glued to the inside liner is a four-panel foldout poster that joins with the cover to reveal a full picture of three battleships (no coincidence, I’m sure, that Admiral Browning is a trio) going up against a giant, futuristic robot. To look at the cover image above, only the bottom left-hand corner is what you see at first on the digipak.

I’ve included the images after the jump, but what you can see immediately is that there’s a story playing out. On the outside cover, the fight is beginning and the ships look doomed. On the inside, guns ablaze, it looks like the invader is done for, and on the back cover, the alien robot’s carcass smolders on the horizon while the three ships look on, victorious.

All this interesting enough in itself, but taken in the context of Admiral Browning’s back-cover dedication – which reads, “Battle Stations is dedicated to all those remaining positive while battling life-threatening illness or disease, to those that persevere and overcome in the face of insurmountable odds, to those that rebuke thoughts of turning pain into suffering, and to survivors that refuse to give up” – Battle Stations becomes even more thematically loaded. The giant robot becomes a metaphor for some invading disease (cancer seems an appropriate example; tumors have long been depicted as outside invaders in art and literature), and with the musical notes surrounding the battle in the second panel, Admiral Browning are saying that music is at least part of winning the fight against whatever it is being fought.

Aside from being fodder for a deeper read of the album, the visual side of Battle Stations speaks to the conceptual breadth of the band. Doubly curious, then, that the theme and/or story arc doesn’t carry over into the music – or, at least not if titles like “Dreams of Mammurabi” or the Star Wars referential “The Binary Language of Moisture Vaporators” are to be taken on their face. One could easily imbue the five component tracks of Battle Stations as depicting a journey of overcoming conflict, but with well-flowing progressive-edged instrumentals, I get the sense you’d probably be able to do that anyway if you tried hard enough. Particularly as the album presses on to its later cuts, the Eastern-style “Interlude” transitioning smoothly into aforementioned closer “Dreams of the Hammurabi,” there is some feel of resolution in the tracks, but how much of that is put there by Admiral Browning and how much by me listening, I really couldn’t say.

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Young men carrying old souls, Baltimore four-piece The Flying Eyes first made an impression by collecting two EPs into a self-titled Trip in Time full-length debut early last year, blending heavy psychedelia and Southern blues to an effect both surprisingly individual and confident given their age and the fact that it was their first album. Now following it with Done So Wrong, the collective of childhood friends continues to refine their approach and expand it a bit, shirking off some of the more stonerly elements in their sound – for better or worse – and instead working shades of indie, country and folk into their palette. The lead vocals of guitarist Will Kelly remain soulful and strongly presented, embodying in many ways the “beyond their years” aspect of The Flying Eyes’ sound, though the overall retro psychedelia in tracks like highlight “Overboard” and the Dead Meadow-toned instrumental “Heavy Heart” don’t hurt in that regard either, the band drawing more from late-‘60s pop sprawl than the hard-driving riff rock that would rise to prominence just a few years later.

As stylized as they are, though, what’s most consistent about The Flying Eyes is prowess in songwriting. The funky, bass-led groove of “Poison the Well” – Mac Hewitt laying down warm low end in the verses while drummer Elias Schutzman one-e-and-a’s his hi-hat to classic affect later echoed on the toms during guitarist Adam Bufano’s solo break – offers immediate contrast to the fuzz and wah swirl of opener “Death Don’t Make Me Cry,” but both ultimately work. The diversity is subtle, but it’s there, showing up also in the chic neo-grunge feel of “Sundrop” and the thoughtful acoustics of closer “Leave it all Behind,” on which Kelly is joined by a female guest vocalist for a duet worthy of capping off Done So Wrong. Their heaviest moment, at least in the sense of playing fast and loud, might come in the cut before “Leave it all Behind,” “Greed,” which in addition to breaking down to guitars sounding more like violins, has one of the album’s several catchy and memorable choruses. Another strengthening Done So Wrong’s swaggering back half is “Overboard,” ringing notes from Kelly and/or Bufano topped with vocals that sound run through a just-overmodulated vintage mic. There’s obviously a self-aware element to what they do, but The Flying Eyes make it sound spontaneous, and ultimately, that’s why they succeed with the record.

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Of the to-date nine albums in the discography of Maryland groove rockers Clutch, the three full-lengths they released on DRT Records represents in many ways their most interesting and expansive stretch of material. From 2004-2007, Clutch released three highly-varied albums and began the process of maturing from their rougher-hewn, heavier early days into the blues rock powerhouse they’ve since become. This period of the four-piece’s development is captured on three distinct CD reissues from their own Weathermaker Music label, boasting double-disc, expanded-digipak artwork editions of Blast Tyrant (2004), Robot Hive/Exodus (2005) and From Beale Street to Oblivion (2007), along with a companion disc of bonus material from each. The band’s legal disagreements with DRT – the label headed by Gentle Giant multi-instrumentalist Derek Schulman – resulting in their reclamation of the rights to the albums here find their resolution. One recalls that From Beale Street to Oblivion originally came in a jewel case with the artwork so misplaced that Clutch elected to sell the Canadian version on tour. Well, with the Weathermaker versions of these records, that won’t be an issue. From the art (gorgeous for each) to the releases themselves to the fan-gem bonus discs, these are about as complete documents as longtime followers of the band could ever hope for.

It’s worth noting as well in terms of artwork that Clutch’s most recent offering, 2009’s Strange Cousins From the West, was also given special treatment as an LP with some of the most appealing art I’ve ever seen this side of one of those glass-case $250 Boris limited edition boxes, and that cut-slipcase ethic extends to the digipaks here, continuity of aesthetic being an obvious focus for both the band – Neil Fallon (vocals), Tim Sult (guitar), Dan Maines (bass) and Jean-Paul Gaster (drums) – and the team behind Weathermaker Music, most notably label manager and longtime devotee Jon Nardachone. Blast Tyrant comes with a silver embossed ink depiction of the cover’s curious figure and is perhaps given the most reverence of the three reissues, if only for its including the Basket of Eggs bonus disc, which boasts the January 2011 acoustic sessions in which Clutch reworked older material – “Tight Like That,” an unplugged live version of “Drink to the Dead” from 2001’s Pure Rock Fury and Blast Tyrant’s own “The Regulator” – and set it alongside new cuts “Box Car Shorty’s Confession” and “Basket of Eggs” and a host of pre-Blast Tyrant demos that includes different lyrics for “Cypress Grove” and the unreleased songs “Walpole Man” (from which the back half of “Army of Bono” comes) and “Steve Doocy,” as well as rawer working versions of “Promoter” and “La Curandera” from the album proper. This alone is a boon for aficionados and worshipers, but the Chon Hernandez illustrations in the 20-page lyric booklet (dubbed “Blast Tyrant’s Atlas of the Invisible World Including Illustrations of Strange Beasts and Phantoms”) are no less a selling point. With  Blast Tyrant alone, Clutch prove that if you want something done right, you’ve got to do it yourself.

As to the record itself, Blast Tyrant was in many ways a culmination and a new beginning for Clutch. In 2004, it was their first album since leaving Atlantic Records, the first album they recorded digitally – Neil Fallon is said to have laid down his vocal tracks in Jean-Paul Gaster’s living room, and the liner notes confirm it – and in many ways, the first time the balance between heft and clarity was perfected in terms of their production. Where 2001’s Pure Rock Fury was rougher-sounding and 1998’s Elephant Riders overly smoothed out, Blast Tyrant (produced by Machine) was the proverbial third bowl of porridge that was just right. Aside from some of their most memorable songs and live-set staples like “The Mob Goes Wild,” “Cypress Grove,” “Promoter (of Earthbound Causes)” and “Profits of Doom,” Blast Tyrant showed Clutch’s burgeoning sonic breadth with the quiet, contemplatively morose “The Regulator” and “Ghost” and their prowess for raw boogie on “Subtle Hustle,” which even as basically a filler track still came across powerful and irresistibly fun. Their propensity for jamming, since much developed on tours and in their The Bakerton Group instrumental offshoot project, showed itself in the form of the short “Weathermaker” interlude and the album-closing afterthought “WYSIWYG,” and the rush of opener “Mercury” and the gang-chanted chorus of “Spleen Merchant” almost go without saying among Clutch fans.

Obviously the band themselves think highly of Blast Tyrant as well, otherwise the acoustic cuts on Basket of Eggs would probably have just been included on one of the other three albums and the demos paired with live tracks or something else. As the most recent output on any of these albums – Robot Hive/Exodus includes a DVD of the “Burning Beard” video as well as Clutch’s complete set from the Starland Ballroom date of the 2005 Sounds of the Underground tour in Sayreville, New Jersey and From Beale Street to Oblivion culls live tracks from a BBC session and some material that previously showed up on the limited Live at the Hi-Fi Bar release and the video for the hit single “Electric Worry” – Basket of Eggs could have easily been a separate EP release, and it’s the most definitive showing here of where Clutch are today, creatively speaking. “Box Car Shorty’s Confession” is a Cousin Joe blues cover, and “Basket of Eggs” from 1999′s Jam Room follows stylistic suit, and it’s in the reinterpretations of older material that Clutch really shows their blues-laden drive. “Tight Like That” alone is worth the cost of the entire release for its slide-guitar and rearranged vocals (the track was initially released on 1995 landmark self-titled LP), but “Drink to the Dead,” which was recorded in 2001 – a full decade earlier – is somewhat more awkward and “The Regulator” seems like it’s trying to insert blues lines where they don’t fit. Sult’s guitar, Gaster’s drumming and Maines’ bass are masterful as ever (the latter standing out particularly with the added room left by the absence of guitar distortion), but Fallon’s vocals are unsure in their placement in the midsection, and I’m left wondering if Clutch wouldn’t have been better off maintaining the atmosphere of the original song and simply stripping down the arrangement – though I’m also willing to allow I’m hardly impartial in this case, being a tremendous admirer of the regular album version. Sandwiched between the upbeat 12-bar “Box Car Shorty’s Confession” and the start-stop “Basket of Eggs” stands out some, but is no less awkward than the “Cattle Car” demo version of “Cypress Grove” in that it’s just not what someone familiar with Blast Tyrant would be used to hearing.

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Against Nature know the score. The Baltimore trio have put out at least 15 full-lengths since 2005 on guitarist/vocalist John Brenner’s Bland Hand Records imprint, the latest of which is Stone Over Stone, and they’ve given them away for free the whole time. Physical CDs are pressed sometimes in limited numbers with accompanying artwork from Brenner – joined in Against Nature by bassist Bert Hall, Jr. and drummer Steve Branagan – but by and large, they just home record albums and put them up on the label’s website for those who find them to enjoy. Music for the love of music. It’s a beautiful ideal to work from, and Against Nature’s songs, humbly-toned, classically-styled and engaging, are perfectly suited to it. Stone Over Stone collects five solid traditional rockers and one more extended jam into about 29 minutes’ worth of material, paying homage to the LP ethic of old in the album’s relatively short runtime.

One thing about Against Nature’s material in every iteration I’ve heard (and at this point, I’ve heard a few): influences at work can vary by record, but in both tone and Brenner’s voice, Against Nature are distinctly themselves. Some material is more active, some more passive, but all of Against Nature’s work – and indeed this applies to Stone Over Stone as well – is completely lacking pretense and operating on a “what you see is what you get” level. Brenner is an accomplished solo guitarist, and he shows that off a bit later into this record on “Clod” or “Walking on Stilts in Sand,” and Hall and Branagan are as tight as ever in the rhythm section, the latter injecting some rocking fills into “Clod” that are as driven as anything I’ve heard from Against Nature in a while. The production style is the same as it ever was in its smooth but still home-recorded warmth, and though that can lead to some of the albums having a similar feel, the trio actually works in some different avenues on each record. It’s not quite a thematic concept, but the drive behind Stone Over Stone seems to be to capture a more spontaneous vibe. The seven-minute closing jam “Off the Cuff” is a big clue in that regard, but it’s true for some of the other songs as well.

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Baltimore heavy psych rockers The Flying Eyes, whose self-titled debut was reviewed early last year, are in the process of preparing a follow-up for release via World in Sound/Trip in Time. The next album, reportedly titled Done So Wrong, is due out March 18, and drummer Elias Schutzman was kind enough to send over the track “Nowhere to Run” for your advance streaming pleasure. Check it out on the Soundcloud player below.

Done So Wrong is due out March 18 on World in Sound/Trip in Time. For more info on The Flying Eyes, check out their Facebook page.

This is the third Clutch interview to be posted on this site in the two years it’s been active (here’s one with guitarist Tim Sult and one with drummer Jean-Paul Gaster). Coupled with the talk I had with bassist Dan Maines about the last album from jammy Clutch offshoot The Bakerton Group, and the Q&A that follows with vocalist Neil Fallon will mean that all four members of the band have been featured on The Obelisk one way or another. Total coverage.

While I wish I could say the occasion serving as impetus for ringing up Fallon was the impending new Clutch album — which is about due but still won’t be ready to go for some time from the sound of things — instead it’s a tour. Now, Clutch touring is no more “news” than are the crabcakes in the band’s native Maryland except in the particulars of where and when the crowd needs to show up, but when you hit the road alongside gen-you-wine legends Motörhead for a massive US run that you’ve in fact delayed writing your next record to undertake, well, I think that’s worth chatting about. I know if I was touring with Motörhead, I’d want to talk about it.

I found the same to somewhat be the case with Fallon, who is notoriously terse in interviews. He’s not impolite, not a dick by any stretch, but hardly one to sit and pontificate on the band’s history and future. It stands to reason that with the massive work ethic Clutch have displayed over their years on the road, writing and recording, and launching their own Weathermaker Music label on which their former DRT Records catalog — Blast Tyrant, Robot Hive/Exodus and From Beale Street to Oblivion — is in the process of being reissued and which put out their last offering (2009′s Strange Cousins from the West), Fallon would be more about the doing than the talking.

Nonetheless, from the road in Minneapolis, the singer took some time out to talk about reinterpreting older tracks acoustically for inclusion as bonus material on the impending Blast Tyrant reissue, progress writing new songs, playing with Motörhead and tour openers Valient Thorr, his growth as a vocalist, and more. It’s not a long conversation by the standard of some of what gets posted around here, but it’s always great to check in and find out what Clutch are up to next.

Unabridged Q&A is after the jump. Please enjoy.

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