Posts Tagged ‘Mark Lanegan’

Zabus – Shadow Genesis

Posted: 1 July 2025 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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Saccharine Underground – 1st July 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

This one hell of a hybrid. Just when you think post-punk has been explored to the point at which it has been hollowed out, exhausted, and has only well-worn and instantly recognisable tropes to offer, along come Washington DC’s Zabus, purveyors of avant-garde post-punk with an EP which is something of a ‘best of’ with tracks from their two recent albums, Automatic Writhing (September 2024) and Floodplain Canticles (January 2025), plus a new track which paves the way for their next offering Whores of Holyrood (due in August).

With its immense, reverb-laden sound and expansive, drifting desert-like soundscape ‘Grafhysi Fyrir Alla’ makes four and a quarter minutes feel like a hypnotic span of double that duration. The shuffling bass and big, booming bass are pure dub. The guitar chimes and floats into the ether as everything swashes around in a huge echoic pool.

Of ‘Grafhysi Fyrir Alla’, lifted from last year’s Automatic Writhing, project founder and focal member Jeremy Moore says it’s about “the societal imposition of unobtainable standards of beauty, and our obsession with physical perfection at the expense of true happiness”. This is certainly not a case of style over substance, but a coming together of musical inventiveness with a level of intellect which is rare. “Psychopathologies like body dysmorphic disorder, at the extreme, can lead to a path of ruin, if most of your life is spent chasing a ghost—what you believe the world wants you to be. Death doesn’t discriminate. The end is always the same.”

This is some pretty heavy – and dark – philosophy on offer here, and it’s welcome: as much as there is much to be said for the benefits of the escapism music can offer, there’s equal solace to be found in art which articulates one’s own world view. And so it that that Zabus portray contemporary dystopia from a range of camera angles.

‘Orphalese’ is more uptempo and is decidedly cinematic with its broad-sweeping layers of synths driven by propulsive, rolling drums. There’s no verse / chorus structure, but instead a hypnotic expanse of sound, the aural equivalent of standing on a summit and looking out at a three-sixty horizon through a heat haze. It’s immersive, utterly absorbing, and transportative.

The first of the tracks lifted from Floodplain Canticles is the six-minute ‘Tearful Symmetries’, which is low and slow, Jeremy Moore’s reverb-drenched baritone croon approximating the late, great, Mark Lanegan against a dubby backdrop punctuated the clangs and scrapes of guitar drones and sculpted feedback. ‘This is the end….’ He reflects, but not with sadness or panic, but a sense of inevitability.

‘Golden-rot’ goes all out for the theatrically gothic experience: it’s as big on drama as it is on sound, as an insistent mechanised drum beat pounds away, cutting through a smog of murky guitar and thick, booming bass, and if I wasn’t already perspiring hard from the humidity and thirty-degree heat, this would make me sweat, with its tension and crackling energy.

And so we come to the title track, the first taste of Whores of Holyrood. It’s different again, although the cavernous reverb is a constant. This cut is a brooding piece that borders on country, once more evoking the spirit of Lanegan. It’s spacious, but its intensity brings an almost suffocating weight.

Shadow Genesis provides a perfect introduction to Zabus, and at the same time whets the appetite for what’s to come. And let me tell you, it’s something to get excited about.

Zabus - Shadow Genesis cover art

Steve Von Till – Alone in a World of Wounds

Posted: 15 May 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Neurot Recordings – 16th May 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Steve Von Till doesn’t really require any introduction or preamble: the chances are, if you’re reading this, you’re already aware of his work, and if not as a solo artist, then as the guitarist / vocalist with Neurosis, active between 1985 and 2019. As much as Neurosis were labelled a post-metal band, they very much forged their own sound, which has, to an extent, become the house style of Neurot Records.

Von Till’s solo works may lean more toward folk and the gentler side of that style, but nevertheless have significant heft, and Alone in a World of Wounds – his seventh solo album, the follow-up to No Wilderness Deep Enough (2020) is no exception (he’s been busy in the intervening years with a trilogy of Harvestman albums, all released in 2024). The heft here comes from a sense of gravitas, rather than volume and distortion, and continues the softer trajectory of its predecessor, an album ‘initially inspired by the harmonic resonance of piano and synths and his long-standing love of ambient music’.

‘The Corpse Road’ sees Von Till croak and croon in a fashion that could me taken for Mark Lanegan in a blind test, against a sparse backdrop of strings which swell and swoon, heavy with sadness and gloom. There is a sense of times past, not just fading memories and bygone days, but a sense of the creak of wood and worn clothing of harder but simpler times. I find myself unexpectedly transported to a walk my daughter and I undertook from Ambleside to Grasmere in the Lake District a year or so back, via the ‘Coffin Route’. It was winding, and wet, and uneven, not to mention long, and it’s billed as a ‘strenuous’ walk, while still suitable for tourists: as the rain battered the hood of my anorak, I found myself contemplating what it must have been like hauling an actual coffin along that four-mile stretch without the benefit of modern hiking gear. Life must have been tough. Von Till taps into the essence of these past times, and a sense of the elemental.

The mood remains lugubrious on ‘Watch Them Fade’, a song redolent with sadness and reflection, weighted down with the reminder that mortality affects us all and is never far. Despite the fact that life’s only certainty is its expiration, we continue to shy away from the topic. While Alone in a World of Wounds does not confront mortality and death head-on, it’s there at every turn. “Keep on diggin’… dig a little deeper” he implores on ‘Horizons Undone’, and while there are psychological connotations here, it’s hard to ignore images of graves.

The eight-minute ‘Calling Down the Darkness’ is a super-sparse piano-led slow-burner, and confounds any expectation for a surging finish by remaining low-key and minimal to the end, ad something about it is so, so achingly sad.

‘The Dawning of the Day (Insomnia)’ is a brief spoken-word interlude with a moody piano accompaniment, while paves the way – or perhaps scatters woodchips – for the arrival of the swirling atmospheric start of ‘Old Bent Pine’, another song which revels in the forces of nature, before the six-minute ‘River of no Return’ flows toward the finish. It has hints of Slowdive about it. Moreover, its superficial ominousness reminds us that rivers only flow in one direction, and as with rivers, so with life: there is no return, no replay, no turning back. there is no undoing mistakes, only not repeating them.

‘Alone in a World of Wounds’ may be a largely acoustic album, but it is still heavy – really heavy – emotionally more than sonically – and consequently not an easy one to process. It would be impossible to deny the album’s quality. But the weight, the sadness…

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Noisepicker – The Earth Will Swallow The Sun

Posted: 20 March 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Exile On Mainstream – 21st March 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Noisepicker get a pass for a rather lame name by virtue of being absolutely phenomenal purveyors of noise rock, and that they are absolutely phenomenal purveyors of noise rock is a fact, not an opinion.

It’s also a fact that the album’s title, The Earth Will Swallow The Sun, is factually inaccurate. But again, they get a pass, not least of all because without Earth, there would be no Sunn O))) and the whole world of drone metal was born from Earth and the sun, or at least Sunn O))) revolve around that… but I digress. The Earth Will Swallow The Sun marks the return of Noisepicker after a seven-year break following the release of their debut, Peace Off, in 2018, because… life, apparently. This seems to be how it goes. Stuff happens, you get busy dealing with it, and simply doing everyday stuff, like laundry and life admin, and before you know it, shit, five years have evaporated, and that’s half a decade.

‘Do not expect neat, polished, note perfect, carefully constructed sound. Noisepicker are loud and abrasive. They pay homage to the genres which made them fall in love with music in the first place – doom, punk and blues – and bring it all together in a hearty and heavy concoction that is all their own.’, they forewarn, and yes, it’s all true. The Earth Will Swallow The Sun places texture and impact and density over palatability and accessibility. And that’s for the good: the world is engulfed in slick digital mass-produced music, and there seems to be something of a rebellion against it in underground circles, with artists with nothing to lose going all-out to splurge their souls with unapologetically raw output. And this is something that feels relatable, it’s music to connect with, because it’s real, immediate, direct, and without compromise. To listen to something so unfiltered is to feel alive.

The album starts sparse, with strong hints of Mark Lanegan, with Harry Armstrong delivering a heavy-timbred vocal croon that emanates from the chest and crackles in the throat, over a simple guitar strum and some anguished drones, until finally, almost two minutes in, it all kicks in with some big guitars, thudding drums, booming bass. It’s a hint at the potential energy that Noisepicker offer, and if opening an album with a slow-paced dredger of a song seems like an odd choice, it paves the way for some high-octane, high-impact racket, sliding immediately into the darkly chaotic snarl of raging riff-out roar of single cut ‘Chew’, which lurches and lumbers between grunge and metal and heavy psychedelia.

Things only get more intense from hereon in. ‘Tomorrow Lied the Devil’ is built around a solid blues-based boogie, but with everything cranked up to eleven and Armstrong giving it some gravel-throated grit while the guitars chug hard against thunderous percussion. ‘Leave Me the Name’ sees them coming on like Chris Rea not on the road to hell, but dragged up, charred and rotting from the depths of hell, and ‘What Did You Think Was Going to Happen’ is dense, dark, gnarly, menacing and lands like a punch to the gut. The riff is actually a bit Led Zep, but with so much distortion and a vocal that sounds like a death threat, it all takes on a quite different dimension, while ‘The End of Beginning’ is simply a slow but blistering assault. None of this is pretty, and none of this is gentle. All of it is strong, and rabid in its intensity. ‘Start the Flood’ offers some wild bass runs amidst the raving riff-driven mayhem – because we need for there to be more happening here. There’s some rabid raving about supernovas, and then the title track comes on like some deranged stoner rock blitzkrieg that has hints of Melvins and a megadose of daftness. We need that daftness as much as we need the guitar carnage. There’s a smoochy swagger to the blues / jazz-hued ‘Lorraine in Blood’ that’s like Tom Waits narrating a pulpy crime novel, before ‘Lunatics’ brings the album to a more experimental conclusion with its dominant crowd noise backing.

It’s rare for a side-project to stand above the main band, but Armstrong has his fingers in many pies beyond Orange Goblin, and Noisepicker are a rare entity in every way. The Earth Will Swallow The Sun is something else. It’s the sound of a pair of extremely capable musicians really testing themselves, and having fun in the process. It’s fun to listen to, too. Hard, and harrowing at times and in places, but ultimately fun.

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Golden Vampire Experience – Polaris

Posted: 8 October 2023 in Albums
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Erototox Decodings

Christopher Nosnibor

Internationally, Kristof Hahn is best known as a member of Swans since their return in 2010, contributing electric guitar to My Father Will Guide Me up a Rope to the Sky and everything since (he was briefly a Swan in the late 80s and early 90s, becoming a touring member for The Burning World and appearing on White Light from the Mouth of Infinity and subsequently joining Gira’s Angels of Light. A lot has happened since then: My Father Will Guide Me was only forty-four minutes in total, whereas now they’ve evolved to have single tracks of that duration, and Hahn’s contribution on recent albums and tours has been lap steel. Witnessing his action on the last tour, while standing so close to him I could actually see the mud spattered around the ankles of his jeans, the significance of his contribution to the immense walls of noise the band create is clearly apparent. I’ve also been vaguely amuse by just how neat and dapper his presentation is, producing a comb to slick his hair back following particularly strenuous crescendos – although I also witnessed him taking said comb to the strings of his instrument in Leeds to yield some particularly unholy noise from an instrument more commonly associated with laid-back twangin’ country tunes.

What’s perhaps less widely known is that Kristof has enjoyed a lengthy career in music before joining Swans, as both a solo artist and a member of rockabilly garage acts The Legendary Golden Vampires, founded in 1981, and The Nirvana Devils (circa 1984). It’s with the former he’s back flexing his creative muscles despite an intense touring schedule with Swans.

Here, the Berlin-based core duo of filmmaker Olaf Kraemer (vox) and Kristof Hahn (guitars, organ, harmonica), reunited for the first time in many years, are joined by Thomas Wydler (drums), Achim Färber (also drums), and Chandra Shukla (sitar), to cook up a collection of ten songs.

The style is understated, country-leaning, occasionally folksy, with an underlying melancholy hue, with ‘Wohin Du Gehst’ crossing the language barrier to convey a low-level ache of sadness in its tone. Kraemer’s vocals are husky, almost croony, with hints of Mark Lanegan, and suit the low-key compositions well, conveying emotion and world-wearinness and a certain sense of sagacity, which is nowhere more apparent than on ‘White Horse Blues’.

If the reverby guitars of their Husker Dü’s ‘She Floated Away’ channels Chris Isaak, the song’s incongruously jaunty twist is in the vein of fellow German duo St Michael Front, while ‘The Rain’ is sparse and hypnotic and wouldn’t sound out of place on True Detective. The melancholy Leonard Cohen-esque ‘Sad Song’ speaks for itself, quite literally, self-referentially returning to the hook ‘this is such a sad song / and I sing it just for you’.

Discussing the songwriting ‘craft’ on an album feels pretentious and a bit wanky, but making songs this sparse – but also this layered – is a true example of crafting. Having mentioned Leonard Cohen previously, one thing that’s often overlooked is just how many incidental details there are on many of Cohen’s songs: The Songs of Leonard Cohen in particular is , on the face of it, acoustic guitar and voice, but there’s much more happening in the background, coming in and out of the mix, and this is something that comes through in attentive listening to Polaris. It’s subtle, keeping the overall sound quite minimal, but the attention to detail is what really makes it special.

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Burning Jacobs Ladder – Danger In Me

Posted: 7 August 2021 in Singles and EPs
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End Of The Trail Records – 13th August 2021

Christopher Nosnibor

In a world of intertext, whereby everything references something else, there’s something that goes beyond homage in referencing one’s influences in naming your band. Sure, it’s a nifty short-cut signpost indicating influences and origins, but Australian act Burning Jacobs Ladder – essentially the vehicle for Jake T Johnson – takes its name from a song by Mark Lanegan. This makes it cool practically by default, but it helps that BJL has got the songs to back it up.

With ‘Danger in Me’ he’s brought together a classic post-punk vibe with an early 90s alternative swagger. There are hints of late Psychedelic Furs later Jesus and Mary Chain, delivered with the knowing coolness of Black Rebel Motorcycle Club. Also in the mix is a gothy element, that makes something of a nod to the bombast of The Mission, but equally worthy of comparisons to the more contemporary Mayflower Madame. If this seems like a lot of touchstones and reference points, it serves to highlight just how strong a handle Johnson has on the style and the sound, and it all comes together perfectly here.

‘Danger In Me’ has a darkness and density, and it’s propelled by a tight, crisp drum track, chugging rhythm guitar, and an insistent four-square bassline of the kind that thrums along at just the right pace to elevate the pulse just that little bit (and reminds me more than just a little bit of ‘More’ by The Sisters of Mercy, who were always the kings of that tight three- or four-chord sequence thudded out with a strike on each beat). And then there’s the reverb, pitched just so, and the lead guitar sizzles around Johnson’s vocals as he wrestles with internal conflict.

Disclosure: I’m an absolute sucker for this strain of groove-orientated post-punk – but this is one of the best examples I’ve heard in a while: truly top drawer.

Black Angel – Prince of Darkness

Posted: 21 July 2021 in Albums
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21st June 2021

Black Angel emerged four years ago, and released Kiss of Death in July of last year – an album that brought together Matt Vowles’ years of experience from being in and around the goth scene to recreate the spirit of 1985.

This time, Vowles and co have come out with a concept album for their third outing, which is ‘inspired by cinematic classics such as ‘Dracula’ (Gary Oldman-1992) and ‘Interview with a Vampire’ with contemporary inspiration on tracks like "Alive" and "Give It To Me’" from the modern aristocratic sophisticated vampires in ‘Underworld’.

The album’s concept, the blurbage explains, is ‘to take you on a journey. The record starts out with an introduction to set the tone and to put you in 10th century England. As our protagonist embarks on his pillage through the town, we hear screams from the villagers as they run for their lives. He’s the Prince Of Darkness and causes chaos and mischief wherever he goes’.

There’s a fine line between artistry and pretence, theatre and corn, and despite the concept that veers towards an amalgamation of all the clichés of goth distilled into a dozen tracks, Prince of Darkness once again nails that vintage goth sound, with ‘Alive’ melding the energy of early Mission with the mechanised drumming of The Sisters to create a swirling cyclone of tripwire guitars and gloom with a glint of joy.

The energy is sustained across the bulk of the album, and the vibe is very much a muscle-flexing dominance, delivered with a big, ballsy swagger: there’s a hefty whiff of testosterone and a barrel load of rock god posturing going down here, but it’s delivered with a knowing nod ‘Live to Love’ is a proper old-school rock ‘n’ roll stomper with a smoky vocal growling and grizzled over a piston-pumping beat and a wonderfully insistent bassline that nags away at a repetitive motif. It’s got that level of grab that immediately makes you want to stick the whole album on repeat, especially after ‘Turn Around’, which pushes the quiet / loud dynamic with a searing guitar line that’s right in the vein of The March Violets – it’s that flangey reverby chorus thing.

Vowles has some depth, and range, too – on some tracks, like ’Call the Night Part II’ he showcases a grainy croon reminiscent of Mark Lanegan, and it’s heavy timbre is well-suited to such expansive epics, and then again, on ‘Secretly’ we see a more soulful, even tender side, and ‘My Love’ goes all out for the heart on sleeve grand gesture. It’s theatrical, but at the same times feels emotionally sincere, and while the melody bears similarities to ‘The Scientist’ by Coldplay, it sounds like it’s being sung by James Ray, and it’s quite moving in a brooding, gothy way.

Throughout, the songwriting is solid, with guitar hooks galore and a taut rhythm section that forges that classic goth groove. There’s a clear lineage from its predecessor in that Prince of Darkness is very much old-school goth delivered with a subtly contemporary twist, but it sounds and feels more confident, more ambitious, and not just on account of its embracing an overarching concept. Prince of Darkness is the sound of a band really hitting their stride, and achieves the perfect marriage of concept and execution.

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