Posts Tagged ‘Riffs’

Toru – Velours Dévorant

Posted: 13 January 2025 in Albums, Reviews
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Cruel Nature Records – 14th January 2025

Christopher Nosnibor

Released on various formats by various labels in different countries, the latest offering from genre-blasting French instrumental trio Toru is being released on cassette (and download) by Northumberland’s Cruel Nature in an edition of 65. Following on from 2020’s eponymous debut and a split release with Teufelskeller, which saw Toru join forces with CR3C3LL3, this time around, they’re different again, and having been featured as album of the day at Bandcamp Central just the other day, the signs are that Velours Dévorant could see them significantly expand their fanbase – and deservedly so.

Velours Dévorant featires five V-themed tracks defined by some riotous riffmongering and big, dirty, overdriven guitar noise with tempo shifts galore. Blasting in with ‘VHS’, it’s a manic ride through waves of tempestuous, bludgeoning racket from the very start. Trilling feedback fulfils the duty of a lead guitar line, while a shuddering, ribcage-rattling bass tears its way out from the chaos atop some heavy, but highly skilled jazz-inspired drumming.

Some will likely describe their sonic blitzkrieg as ‘experimental’, but that’s something of a misrepresentation, in that it suggests a lack of coherence, a haphazard and unplanned approach. The sudden stops and starts, the moments where a chord hangs, suspended in the air for just the briefest moment before the fractionally-delayed snare smash or cymbal crash, where the three of them simultaneously draw breath in just a split second… those microcosmic moments require remarkable precision – unquestionably, intuition is key, but rehearsal too. The skill is to make it sound haphazard, unpredictable, to keep the listener on the edge of their seat, buttocks clenched, while having it all worked out. Every composition contains moments which feel like the sonic equivalent of watching trapeze artists, where you tense and momentarily stop breathing as they fly through the air, seemingly in slow-motion, tense in case they fail to grab on: will they keep it together, or will everything collapse into a mess of sludge like a sewer rupturing and spewing a fountain of slurry?

These are long tracks – the shortest is over five and a half minutes – with infinite twists and turns. The skewed, surging jazz-grunge of ‘Voiles’ – a whopping eleven and a half minutes in duration – is representative, and encapsulates the essence of the album. The guitars squall and screed in a showcase of noise-rock par excellence, while the bass lurches and snarls, grooves and grinds, and the percussion is simply wild. It’s like listening an instrumental version of every track by the Jesus Lizard all at once. There’s a low-impact, atmospheric mid-section that rolls and rumbles, yawns and splashes… lazily would e the wrong word, but it takes its time, with bent guitar chords twanging like elastic bands, while the sparse percussion meanders seemingly without aim. But then it all reshapes and takes form once more, building, building, and then exploding so hard as to detonate so hard as to blow your eyeballs out of their sockets. Fuck, when these guys hit the pedals, they really do go all out.

I’ve heard a plethora of zany noise-rock acts, and have loved many – most of whom are so obscure that to reference them or draw comparisons would be the most pointless exercise imaginable: ‘hey, wow, this band I’ve not heard of sound like a bunch of other bands I’ve never heard of, that’s informative!’.

On Velours Dévorant, Toru take the tropes of post-rock, with its protracted delicate segments and slow-building atmosphere, and incorporate them within a noise-rock setting, with the result being epic tunes with some incredibly graceful, and ultimately poignant expanses, pressed tight against some of the most explosive overloading, overdriven abrasion going. And then, of course, there are the jazz elements: ‘Volutes’ is the apex of jazz/grunge hybridization, and it works so well. Not sold on Nirvana meets The Necks? Trust me.

The fourteen-minute title track is… special. It is, in many respects, the evolution of post-rock circa 2004. Chiming guitars, infinite space, haunting atmosphere. The intro is magnificent, beautiful. Her Name is Calla’s sprawling ‘Condor and River’ comes to mind. That use of space, that simmering tension, that sense of something growing which is more than… well, it’ s simply more. There are things hidden. When the riffing lets rip, holy shit, does the riffing let rip, fully shredding blasts of distortion tear through with obliterating force. The track feels like an album in its own right.

It seems like a while since I’ve felt compelled to describe an album as ‘epic’ – but this… this is next-level epic.

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Watch: ‘Ulysses’ Lies’ by March Of Scylla

Posted: 23 December 2024 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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French progressive metal collective March of Scylla has released a captivating music video for their latest track, ‘Ulysses’ Lies’, from the forthcoming album Andromeda, set to be released on March 7, 2025, via Klonosphere/Season of Mist. Directed by Kevin Meriaux, the video seamlessly merges the band’s dark, progressive metal sound with their signature mythological storytelling, offering a mesmerizing visual experience.

Watch the video here:

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Initiated by Christofer Fraisier, guitarist and former member of Taman Shud, March Of Scylla is a dark, progressive metal project that emerged in Amiens in 2020. The band features drummer Gilles Masson from Ashura, bassist Robert Desbiendras, and vocalist Florian Vasseur. Their two EPs, Archives and Dark Myth, showcase their diverse influences, drawing comparisons to Gojira, Tesseract, Sleep Token, and Architects.

Their debut album Andromeda was recorded, mixed, and mastered at Studio Sainte-Marthe in Paris by Francis Caste, and explores the vastness of space and humanity’s complex relationship with science, the cosmos, and the afterlife. The album tackles fundamental human anxieties, injustices, and emotional struggles, blending personal lyrics with universal mythology and history.

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Moose Knuckle / Perennial / JUKU – The Fulford Arms, York, 11th December 2024

Posted: 12 December 2024 in Live, Reviews
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Christopher Nosnibor

My review of JUKU’s debut, at a Sunday matinee show last summer, continues to receive significant hits, and while they have played only a limited number of shows in the interim, it seems their reputation has been growing without their needing to take to the stage. It does mean that, personally, I’m keen to see them whenever the rare opportunity arises, and April seems like a long time ago.

They don’t disappoint: this is one tight, loud, band, and they pack the songs in back to back, no chat, no pissing about tuning up, no stalling to mop brows or regain breath. There isn’t a weak song in their half-hour set, but there are some standouts: ‘Pressure’ has the gritty drive of Motorhead and ‘No Fun’ is, actually, much fun. The set packs riffs and hooks like The Ramones on steroids… the lead guitarist is understated, focused, while on the other side of the stage, Dan is going ballistic, stomping and thrashing every ounce from his guitar like a man possessed. Sonically, they create contrast, too, with crisp, twangy tones cut through the huge, distorted roar blasting from Dan’s amp. They’re practically faultless, and the set ends in a ragged howl of feedback.

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JUKU

When the opening act is this strong, it’s a guaranteed good night either way: the rest of the acts are going to have to be bloody good to top them, in which case you’ve got a run of belters, or if they don’t match up, you can go home early knowing you’ve seen the best band of the night by getting down early. Tonight proves to be a bit of both.

New England trio Perennial – comprising guitar, synth, and drums, with dual vocals, are here on their first UK tour in support their third album, Art History, released over here by York-based label Safe Suburban Home Records. Sporting matching striped tops, they look vaguely nerdy, and unless you’ve heard or seen them before, nothing can quite prepare you for their wild stage act. Chelsea (keyboards, vocals) windmills and bounces all over, hyper as hell, and Chad Jewett, who’s a big fella, is a blur of movement, jumping and lurching and hurling himself and his guitar around, almost toppling his cabs just a couple of songs in. They positively crackle with energy, and are clearly absolutely loving every second of what is a remarkably well-conceived and structured set. They play US punk rock – or ‘modernist punk’ as they call it – with wit, and a keen sense of humour, delivering entertainment amped to the max. They clearly had a fair few fans in, and there was some exuberant dancing down the front. Definitely one of those bands that, if you get the chance, you should see.

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Perennial

Moose Knuckle showcase a solid sound, and some swagger, but the bar has been set incredibly high. They don’t have nearly as much energy as either of the two previous acts (although more every than Perennial would probably cause a power cut across the entire city), and they’re simply not quite loud enough or otherwise sonically powerful to get away with such a static performance. On another night, or had the bill been reversed, they’d have been decent enough, but they’re very much a meat and two veg rendition of punk, with most of the songs’ lyrics involving the repetition of a single line about forty times. And they’re not exactly inspired lines, either: ‘I need my dope, dope, dope, dope, dope,’ and ‘Dead! Beat! Daddy!’ is about the level of lyrical quality, the level of the lyrical quality, the level of the lyrical quality, the level of the lyrical quality.

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Moose Knuckle

Starting the set by calling everyone forward, only for them to all have to step back again to make way for the videographer prowling back and forth the full width of the stage a t least twice every song kinda backfired a bit, too.

Ultimately, there was nothing really ban about their set, it just lacked inspiration and energy in contrast to the previous acts.

The format of the night worked well, though: three bands, half an hour each, fifteen-minute interludes, 10:20 finish. Bish, bash, bosh. Perfect for midweek, and y’know, two outta three ain’t bad.

Fireblood – Goatslayer

Posted: 1 December 2024 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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ROT ROOM – 6th December 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Super-spiky, not-really-legible font? Check. White on black cover art? Check. Goats galore? Check: in the title and on the cover. This is going to be some gnarly metal din, right? Right. Sometimes, you can judge a book – or a record – by its cover.

Goatslayer is the second EP of 2024 for North Carolina ‘southern-fried sludge quartet’ Fireblood, following the Hellalujah EP, released in April.

They promise a work which ‘take[s] the genre in a somehow meaner, more extreme direction, they employ massive atonal guitars, booming drums, and churning low end to create a caustic, thick-as-molasses sound that has a physical weight to its thunderous mid-tempo grooves. Lumbering ever forward, each stomping beat comes laden with the threat of eruption, and when the top does blow it’s an explosion of seething rage.’

While I wasn’t aware that theirs was a specific genre, I’m on board with this, not least of all because the EPs four tracks are magnificently mangled, feedback-strewn heavy as hell riff-fests with an obsession with death.

‘A Perfect Place for Death’ is a lumbering chuggernaut, with overdriven power chords galore and processed, fucked-up vocals which add a deranged psychedelic edge to the purgatorial experience. As much as there are hints of Melvins in the blend, the vocal treatment reminds me of Henry Blacker, knowingly over the top and uncommonly high in the mix, but everything congeals into a thick black tarry sonic soup. ‘Death Comes Rolling’ thunders in hard, beating its chest and stamping its feet against an industrial-strength riff and roaring, glass ‘n’ gasolene gargling vocals. It ain’t pretty: it’s not supposed to be. It’s not subtle, either, but again, it’s not supposed to be.

They slow the pace to a crawl on the trudging ‘Burning Underground’, and it very much feel like being dragged by the collar down an endless staircase hewn in rock, the temperature rising as sulphurous lava and eternal flames draw ever closer, before ‘A.I.G.O.D.’ locks into a relentless and powerful groove, and pummels away at a dingy riff for seven and a half punishing minutes. Around halfway through, something twists and suddenly it seems to get even denser, sludgier, heavier, the guitar overload threatening to do damage to your speakers. The long, slow fade comes almost as a relief in easing the cranial pressure. This is a beast, and no mistake.

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The Giraffes – Cigarette

Posted: 8 November 2024 in Albums, Reviews
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27th September 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

They’re pitched as being for fans of, among others, the Jesus Lizard, QOTSA, Earthless, King Gizzard and Lizard Wizard, Fu Manchu, Daughters, and Beak, and their influences are listed as Dick Dale, Black Sabbath, Queens of the Stone Age, David Bowie, Ennio Morricone, Scott Walker, Pink Floyd, Fear, Erkin Koray, and Minute Men. And for those familiar with the band, the fact that Cigarette is their first album in five years is likely to be a cause of excitement.

Citing Daughters has become somewhat tarnished lately, in the wake of allegations against singer Alexis Marshall, which saw the band halting activity and him dropped by this label., but then, there likely a lot of people who aren’t aware of this, and moreover, it seems that even convictions and out of court settlements are no obstacle to becoming president of the United States, so perhaps a lot of people aren’t especially concerned by such things.

I’m not sure what The Giraffes have been up to for the last five years, or how they’ve managed to avoid my radar for the entirety of their career – after all, they formed back in the 90s, and released their debut album in ’98, with Cigarette being their eighth. But this is something that happens a lot: there are simply so many acts out there, it’s impossible to be aware of all of them. But we’re here now.

Some may say that five years is a long time to cook up just seven songs, but quality beats quantity, and Cigarette is solid and consistent in the quality stakes. There’s an abundance of drawling, stoner swagger. If ‘baby Pictures’ makes for a gentle start, they slam on the gas and go pedal-to-the-metal on the riffarola of ‘Pipes’, before ‘Limping Horse’ goes all out on the blues-driven scuzzy rock ‘n’ roll.

‘Dead Bird’ brings the requisite slow-tempo acoustic mid-album breather, and in doing so brings an almost folksy aspect to proceedings, while also strongly reminiscent of Alice in Chains in the harmonies.

Revisiting politically-charged single cut ‘Million Year Old Song’ in context of the album, and realising grimly how much can change in just a few weeks, it clicks that I’m reminded a little of Rollins Band with its sinewy lead guitar work and rant blasting over a low-slung groove.

It closes off with aa couple of six-minute epic sluggers, with ‘The Shot’ starting out with a delicate slow-burn but builds, snaking, smoking, and spun with a dash of flamenco and a swirl of drama into a writing monster of a track, before ‘Lazarus’ provides a worthy finale, with its atmospheric, almost post-rock epic intro that leads into a sultry strut that underlies a contemplation on death delivered in a gritty, Mark Lanegan-esque growl.

There’s a solid, vintage feel to Cigarette – which is to say it’s by no means ground-breaking, but while bands like this were ubiquitous in the ‘90s, now, they’re not so much. It’s not only nostalgia that means I miss them; there’s a place for this kind of chunky, dependable rock ‘n’ roll with a whiff of attitude and the perspiration of graft, and Cigarette is ultimately satisfying.

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Rip Space – Thank These People EP

Posted: 2 September 2024 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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28th June 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

There are many reasons I’ve long been drawn to the obscure, the underground, the DIY – and many of those same reasons are why I try, wherever possible, to use my platform to champion those acts who fall within these broad brackets. And another thing I endeavour to use my platform for is the broader topics which relate to the releases – because during my life, I’ve become acutely aware of just how personal a thing music is, both to artist and listeners.

I suppose I first really tuned into this when I was around the age of fifteen: I’d started getting into goth and alternative stuff when I was twelve or thirteen – back when the weekly singles charts and Top of the Pops rules, and the likes of Killing Joke and The Sisters of Mercy and The Mission would make incursions into these realms – and was getting into live music. None of my mates were into the same stuff, so my choices were, go on my own, or don’t go. I decided I didn’t need my mates, but I did need to see the bands. This essentially set the template for my life, taking a position of a willing outsider.

Not everyone gets to be so willing in the place they find themselves, and while Rip Space’s biographical info is sparse, there’s a clear sense that they’re here as much out of compulsion as choice, describing themselves as an ‘anonymous autistic Scottish multi instrumentalist’. They outline how ‘Thank These People is an EP inspired by the catharsis of overcoming otherisation, public humiliation and otherwise targeted acts of evil that resulted ultimately, in official diagnosis in 2021… So this EP is called Thank These People. We make lemonade from the lemons life gives us. And in ways, we can decide to be thankful for the lemons.’

It’s hard not to find this apparent level of positivity and optimism quite staggering and more than a little overwhelming, as I fight the personal urge not to frame my own experiences as, rather than ‘thank these people’, but ‘fuck these cunts’. Ripspace has already demonstrated that they’re a better, less bitter human being than I before I’ve even heard a note… And then I heard a note, and I love Ripspace all the more. Amidst a roaring blast of lurching, distorted black metal guitars and crashing percussion there’s that anguished vocal howl. This… this is the sound of rage, of fury. Thanks? Yeah, right. This is a throbbing middle finger. This is what you’re thinking, what you want to say but muzzle because you don’t want to rile your boss. Because your boss is a twat.

Thank These People contains just three songs, and has a running time of under ten minutes – meaning it would fit comfortably on a 7” in old currency (when a 7” cost a couple of quid, although I’m not about to embark on a nostalgia trip, not now of all times, when nostalgia for the time of £1 pints costs £350 a ticket).

‘The Green Ripper’ really captures the vibe of Touch & Go and Am Rep in the 90s, but with a keenly Scottish lilt, and transitions from spoken word to full metal fury in a blink. And you feel the fury as it seethes and rages and roars, a pure, splenetic outpouring. ‘Welcome to Mother Earth’ is a noise-rock math-mash thrash-frenzy, Metallica in a three-way high-speed collision with Shellac and And So I Watch You From Afar. Thank These People spits, roars, foams, burns. And I have to agree when they add that ‘also, the music video is really good.’

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WALL – Brick by Brick

Posted: 1 September 2024 in Albums, Reviews
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APF Records – 30th August 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

Perhaps it’s because I listen to and write about a pretty broad range of music, perhaps it’s something else entirely, but sometimes, I just get buzzed by the prospect of some monster riffage. And that’s what’s promised here with WALL’s debut, Brick by Brick.

Their press write-up got me in half a sentence, describing them as ‘An instrumental 2-piece heavy fucking riff machine, built brick by brick & riff by riff by twin brothers and Desert Storm members Ryan & Elliot Cole’ and the news that ‘debut album Brick by Brick is overflowing with unashamed Iommi-worshipping, instrumental, sludge/doom metal.’

There’s some flamboyant fretwork which adds detail – and a hint of extravagance – to the tunes, but in the main, they keep things tight, with pounding percussion and pulverising, full-weight riffery dominating the album from beginning to end.

Some may balk at the absence of vocals, and listening to the big, overdriven guitar heft of the album’s thirteen tracks, most of which pish their way past four minutes, which makes for quite a long album, I did occasionally thing that some throat-ripping larynx work would be of benefit. But then, how many great albums, even great bands, have disappointed with the vocals, for whatever reason? The number of times weak vocals have let down a strong instrumental sound for me is beyond my counting, so on balance, they’re wise to stick with the instrumental duo setup instead of risk diminishing the material.

The band – and album – are appropriately-named. This is just short of an hour’s worth of relentless riffery, and it’s solid. Like, well, a wall, and heavy, like, er, bricks. These may not sound like revelatory statements, but the point is that so many bands promise the world and barely deliver more than few pebbles. WALL hammer our hard riffs, back-to-back.

‘Legion’ is almost buoyant and the intro at least offers a picked guitar line that sits with the turn of the millennium metal sound before big, thick power chords crash in, evoking the spirit of the 70s and then some. ‘Avalanche’ brings with it some busy fingerwork, something which veers toward excess on ‘The Tusk’, but is kept in check for much of the album, thankfully.

There’s not really anything that’s new on Brick by Brick, but this kind of consistent riffology is comforting in a way, and moreover, they don’t disappoint.

There are some nice, atmospheric and pleasantly musical passages to be found along the way, and they clearly understand the power of the dynamic as well as of volume. When they take things down, it reels you in, before slamming on all the pedals and blasting you away with big, big chords. A few tracks feel a bit like filler, but then again, they provide some contrast, which is never a bad thing when an album is very much centred around one specific thing, namely headbanging instrumental riffs.

There are a couple of covers, and one night question the necessity of their inclusion, particularly closing with a Black Sabbath cover (‘Electric Funeral’): the may have been wiser to cut it on the penultimate track, the massive slugger that is ‘Filthy Doner Kebabs on a Gut Full of Lager’, but maybe they just don’t know when they’ve had enough, eh? But for that, this definitely feels like an eight out of ten in terms of delivering what it sets out to.

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Watch: ‘Amor Fati’ by Seeds Of Mary

Posted: 29 August 2024 in Recommended Streams and Videos, Singles and EPs
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Bordeaux-based rock/metal band Seeds of Mary are back with a powerful new video for ‘Amor Fati,’ the first single from their highly anticipated new album, LOVE, set to be released on October 18th via Klonosphere / Season of Mist.

Directed by Thomas Duphil, the video for ‘Amor Fati’ delivers the big, bottom-heavy riffs that fans have come to expect from Seeds of Mary, coupled with dark and somewhat melancholic choruses.

Watch the video here:

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The band comments: ‘Amor Fati’ is the opening track of the new album. We chose it as the first single because it can be seen as a distillation of what the rest of the record holds: heavy riffs, haunting melodies, and ethereal atmospheres. Lyrically, it has a philosophical approach, drawing on the concept of Amor Fati dear to the Stoics and Nietzsche: ‘love what happens.’ The lyric video, created by our friend Thomas Duphil, features bodies in all their roughness and imperfections. This was the most obvious way for us to talk about self-acceptance, reality, and the trials of a fleeting life that leave their mark on our flesh. Each song on the album LOVE deals with a facet of love. Here, it’s perhaps its most intimate expression. And the fact that this track was written during the Covid period is probably no coincidence. We inevitably found ourselves confronting ourselves a lot during this significant time.”

LOVE, due out on October 18th, promises to be a defining moment in Seeds of Mary’s discography, blending their signature heavy riffs with dark, introspective lyrics and a raw, emotional edge. The album sees the band walking into heavier and darker tunes, incorporating more aggressive and screamed vocals, adding a new dimension to their already dynamic sound.

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Eville – Blood

Posted: 23 August 2024 in Reviews, Singles and EPs
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23rd August 2024

Christopher Nosnibor

I’ve been enthusing over Eville for a while now. This is no small thing: in the main, I’m not really big into Nu-Metal. Back in the late 90s, the emergence of Limp Bizkit and KORN didn’t so much leave me cold as cause me to wilt inside, and as time progressed, the emergence of more, ever lamer and more cliché exponents of the genre pushed me deeper into the realms of despondency. Anyone who’s read anything I’ve written over the last decade will know that I’m not one of those middle-aged sad-sacks who bemoans the fact that there hasn’t been any new music worth listening to released since I turned 30. I’m not frozen in time, and I don’t believe that any genre is completely and irredeemably shit. Even Nu-Metal.

Eville are a case in point. One reason Nu-Metal was shit back in the day is because it was so overtly the domain of white blokes. So the prospect of a female-fronted Nu-Metal band changes things for a start, and having seen this ad recently, I have witnessed first-hand their capacity to whip up a frenzy.

And ‘Blood’ sure whips up a frenzy alright. It captures Eville at their absolute best: massive, slugging guitar riffs that punish, and hard, on every level, paired with poppy autotuned vocals and keen, earworm melodies. ‘Blood’ strikes the perfect balance between gut-punching riffage and strong melodic tunage. It does not get better than this, and you really need Eville in your life.

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Orange Goblin – Science, Not Fiction

Posted: 10 August 2024 in Albums, Reviews
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Peaceville – 19th July 2024

James Wells

Since their inception as Our Haunted Kingdom in 1995, before transitioning to Orange Goblin and releasing their debut album, Frequencies From Planet Ten in ’97, OG have established themselves as leading exponents of heavy metal thunder.

Science, Not Fiction, explores, as the press pitch puts it, ‘the world as seen through the three fundamental factors; Science, Spirituality, & Religion and how they determine and affect the human condition.’

On the one hand, this is very much hoary old-school metal, with monster riffage cranked up and driving hard with gruff vocals giving it some. But on the other, it’s hoary old-school metal that’s very much more in the Motorhead vein than, say, Iron Maiden. It’s got the heavy swagger of the best of stoner, the monstrous density of slugging, sludgy doom. Fretwanking is kept in check while ball-busting riffery is cranked up to eleven. No shit, this is how it should be done.

‘(Not) Rocket Science’ is exemplary, and brings both the riffs and the cowbell. They sling in some sampled speech on ‘Ascend the Negative’, which offers a solid sense of positivity pushed on by a pounding riff and thunderous percussion. ‘The rich inflate their egos while the poor just foot the bills’, Ben Ward growls on ‘False Hope Diet’, clearly establishing their political position. This enhances my personal appreciation of the band, for certain – but as much as anything because of their up-front engagement with issues, rather than just pumping fists about birds or relationships. That shit just gets tired and has been done to death, as has mystical bollocks for that matter. It ain’t the 70s anymore, man.

Orange Goblin by no means strive to subvert or place a spin on well-established genre tropes: if anything, quite the opposite is true: Science, Not Fiction absolutely revels in them. But, at the same time, in terms of subject matter, Science, Not Fiction is bang-on contemporary and on point.

There’s simply no arguing with this album: Science, Not Fiction is all the meat, there’s no let-up from beginning to end: nothing but riff after riff, delivered with confidence and brute force. Good shit.

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