“I’m the biggest Eyehategod fan I know, and sludge gets a bad rap. I get it: much like drone, if you just amp up the distortion to an 11/10 and know how to abuse the blues scale, you’ve got it made. Of course, there’s more nuance, like the need for facial hair, flannel, intoxicating substances, a shotgun, and some dark woods in the Deep South, but that’s just pedantic. My point is, you wouldn’t expect Crowbar-esque sludge from some dudes in New York, New York.” Empire expanding.
“We’ve discussed revivals before, and tributes aplenty. Just look at Sweven’s Morbus Chron tribute–kind of a bit of both, and to mixed reactions. The list goes on: Black Sabbath and Heaven and Hell; Immortal and Abbath. Musicians looking to revive an old project under a new name must tread lightly, as we don’t want Morbus Chron 2.0, for example, but something that acknowledges the past while taking a fresh step forward. Today’s topic of discussion, New York’s Winter, a relatively quiet 90’s death metal act that nevertheless influenced the development of the death/doom niche with its murky and sprawling tunes.” Winter is coming back.
“I’m about to drop a reality bomb on you that you’re probably already aware of; genre tags, on a collective whole, are oftentimes bullshit. Yes, I’m sure you’ve known that for ages, but when a band is characterized as a particular strain of metal, it’s either because the review writer in question needs some neat, easily identifiable box to put a band into so the listener can gauge whether or not the band is right for them, or said band is vastly stretching the idea of what they sound like to ridiculous lengths.” Rumble bumble.
“Founding Crowbar member, grizzled veteran of the NOLA metal scene, and all around sludge legend Kirk Windstein makes his first foray into solo territory on debut album, Dream in Motion. Although known for slinging tar coated slabs of sludge and doom with his main band, Windstein embraces a decidedly less metallic mindset here.” Iron dreams.
“I decided to atone for this cowardice by chugging some audible sludge in the form of Damned in Endless Night, the third full-length album from British wrecking crew Warcrab. I don’t listen to much sludge but the choice band name, impeccable logo, and Bolt Thrower comparison in the promo lured me into the Warcrab pot, and the musical chum I found within was so good that I couldn’t escape—nor would I want to.” Wharf arts.
“A peculiar thing happened when I downloaded the promo for 0160, the sixth release from German instrumental post-metallers BLCKWVS. Upon opening the folder containing the album and accompanying photos, I noticed that there were two copies of each and every song on 0160. Thinking it was a simple flub-up, I deleted the second copies of each song, saving precious space on my phone. Immediately after doing so, I read online that this was no ordinary screw-up on the label’s end. Rather, 0160 is a “double-album,” actually, and the quotations are there to signify that it’s actually just one album, but with two versions: one with vocals from various contributors, and one purely instrumental. It’s good to see an instrumental band give vocals a go.” Doubled over.
“The most widely known motto by the late legendary movie reviewer Roger Ebert is probably “It’s not about what [it’s] about, it’s how it’s about it.” It’s an elegant way to say that a self-effacing B-movie may be just as (or more) successful as a grandiose historical epic at doing what it set out to do. Similarly, metal albums can be intended as highfalutin, genre-defining epics and fail miserably, or be highly entertaining and successful at simple and straightforward goals. The curiously named Floridian outfit Hollow Leg is among the latter category.” Head up, leg empty.
“I normally don’t take the whole “new year, new me” maxim seriously at all. I mean sure, improvements are a good thing, right? But an entire overhaul of oneself is completely unnecessary. That said, my first review of the year isn’t a one-person black metal project. How novel! In fact, said review involves the words “sludge” and “Louisiana,” two words that’ll make me shove other writers here aside like Patsy Stone gunning for her favorite bottle of vodka. Yep, Slake, the debut album from Louisiana power trio Woorms, broke my combo of icy-cold bedroom blackness once and for all, and you would think that I would be a happy camper here.” From black to blues.
“The break room at my real life place of employment has one of those old glass globe candy dispensers. It’s full of candy and only costs a nickel, but it goes largely unused by employees. No, not because millennials have never seen a nickel and the machine doesn’t take Venmo. It’s avoided because some sociopathic agent of chaos filled the thing with a mix of M&Ms and Skittles that are almost visually indistinguishable. Sure, both are independently enjoyable, but something about the idea of accidentally tasting them in combination, or getting one when you expect the other makes people dubious. The new eponymous album by Lafayette, Indiana’s The Mound Builders is the musical equivalent of this conundrum of expectations.” Sketchy candy.
“I’m going out with a bang on my last review of the year. Well, maybe more like a cannonball fired into a vat of molasses. This eponymous debut from southern sludge band Thunder Horse packs a wallop, kind of like being struck on the side of the head by, oh, I don’t know, a Crowbar?” A Thunder Horse of course, of course.
