It’s easy to sit behind a keyboard — or, for that matter, in front of an amplifier — and lament what could have been. “Oh man, if only the world had taken notice of this or that band, everything would be different.” Well no shit. So wait a second, what you mean to say is if things weren’t the same, they’d be unlike they are now? Guess that tautology major finally paid off!

If this the only reality we have to choose from (and so far it is), I think maybe it’s fortunate an act like Kansas City, Missouri’s JPT Scare Band remained obscure for the decades they’ve been playing together. Think of the still-performing heavy rock acts you know: Deep Purple, Black Sabbath, The Who, Kiss, and so forth. How many still have their original lineup? JPT Scare Band does. How many still have the passion that started them playing in the first place? JPT Scare Band does.

Not only that, but rather than some half-hearted attempt at updating their approach to appeal to a younger demographic at the behest of whatever label they happen to be signed with, JPT Scare Band also sound more truly authentic to their ‘70s beginnings and, on their latest album, RumDum Daddy (released through their own Kung Bomar Records), they capture a classic spirit of improvisation across several jams the likes of which even the most freewheeling of guitar gods from those mythical days of acid rock wouldn’t dare attempt in this century. Next time you see Ritchie Blackmore bust out something that stands up to guitarist/vocalist Terry Swope’s solo on “I’ve Been Waiting,” you let me know. And no, it doesn’t count if it’s on a mandolin.

The material on RumDum Daddy was recorded in 2004, and though relatively straightforward numbers like “You Don’t Wanna Know” and “Rat Poison for the Soul” (as opposed to chicken soup, one imagines) do an excellent job of leading into the album, it’s the jams, man. The jams. And I’m not talking about, “Hey, let’s all head out to The ‘Roo and catch Disco Biscuits” jams. Fuck those jams. JPT Scare Band traffic in epic guitar-led passages that would scare off trust-fund hippies faster than you can say, “There’s ham in the vegan pad thai.”

Read more »

Whatever points I’d take away from Missouri stompers ((Thorlock)) for their extraneous use of parentheses — damn that SunnO))) precedent! — I’d have to give right back for what’s in between them. Think about it, can you come up with a better band name than one combining the Norse god Thor and a warlock? I know I certainly can’t. You’d pretty much have to figure that if there was a thorlock walking around he’d have an awesome beard. So be it.

((Thorlock)) play a kind of Southbound stoner-doomly fuckyouupcore that only Bulletwolf do more drunkenly and Orange Goblin mastered on their last album, Healing through Fire. There’s some Melvins crunch to be had as well, but if their self-titled, self-released full-length is any indicator, ((Thorlock)) have two main modes in which they operate: a straightforward aggressive rock that calls to mind adjectival phrases like “whiskey-fueled” and “balls out” — as heard on “Man Will Lose,” “Triceratops” and elsewhere — and a full-on feedback shitstorm that only appears twice, on “Mississippi Wheelwash” and closer “Beyond Cosmic Dimensions.”

Both songs are upwards of 18 minutes long, and the former devolves into a jam led by the rhythm section of drummer Josh and bassist Luke while Shiv‘s guitar emits pulsing waves that test the limits of endurance and decency. “Beyond Cosmic Dimensions,” at a paltry 17:43, features about seven minutes solid of guitar noise. Very doom, very underground, very cool idea, very hard to sit through. These things are often a trade off.

Read more »