Posts Tagged ‘Sunn O)))’

Sacred Bones – 1st December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

Released simultaneously with the reissue of their eponymous debut, Khanate’s second album originally released in 2003 – which is, incomprehensibly, 20 years ago further evidences just how far out they were at the time. And the time is worth assessing: in 2003, Nu-Metal was in its final throes, and Post-Rock was in the early arc of its ascendency. It was something of a wilderness time in many respects, with no real dominant trend: it was the year Avril Lavigne and Evanescence broke and Muse exploded, amidst an ocean of limp indie and even shitter commercial pop and r’n’b. The underground was the only place of interest, but even in those underground circles, there wasn’t anything quite like this.

The bio accompanying the release points us toward the darkness that pervades the album and does so from the start: ‘“Pieces of us in my hands, on the floor, in my pockets/red glory,” Dubin howls on opener ‘Commuted,’ setting the stage for Khanate’s second installment of existential dread. Dripping in death, murder and desperation, the album is somehow less forgiving than its predecessor. Which was probably the point”.

On this outing, they really do seem to have gone all-out to engineer an album that’s as stark and brutal as is possible, and the four tracks are drawn out to torturous lengths to achieve maximum discomfort. The aforementioned opener, ‘Commuted,’ is over nineteen minutes long, and the instrumentation is sparse, minimal and heavy with lugubrious atmosphere, while Alan Dubin howls like he’s having his fingernails pulled out slowly and painfully, one by one. It’s as bleak and harrowing as one of Derek Raymon’s ‘Factory’ series novels. It’s not pleasant, not even slightly, it’s not even enjoyable, but it’s perversely compelling. When a rhythm and guitars do coalesce, it’s at a glacial BPM, the kind of crushing, feedback-strewn, bludgeoning grind of Swans around the time of Cop, but with the more paired-back, spacious sound of Greed and Holy Money. But Khanate didn’t simply take these as templates – they scrawled all over them and then trampled on them in order to forge something even more challenging and even more fucked-up. There are lengthy passages where there is little more than crackle and hum, and the occasional burst of percussion. It may employ the tropes of avant-garde jazz, but it ain’t jazz. But what it is is hard to define. It’s not industrial, and it’s not doom. It’s not really metal in any recognisable form. But it is heavy. And it is unsettling, harrowing, and an absolute endurance test.

By the end of ‘Commuted,’ you feel utterly beaten and find yourself wilting from the sheer brutality of it all. And then ‘Fields’ crawls in, lower and slower, taking obvious cues from Earth 2 and marking clear parallels with Sunn O))). This is sinister, chthonic, demonic, not so much other-worldly as nether-worldly. It’s almost ten minutes before the bowel-juddering billows of overdriven, low-tuned guitar slides in like a slow-crawling river of lava. It’s monstrous, ugly, explicitly outright horrible. The hovering hum that takes hold around the fifteen-minute mark isn’t in any way a calming pause, but a nuclear wasteland of tension that pressurises the skull. Dubin raves maniacally like a psychotic locked in a soundproofed cell, and there’s a sense that the whole of Things Viral is a prison, whereby the listener is trapped within walls of sound. ‘I did this for you’, he screams murderously. It doesn’t sound like a kind favour, but like it’s time for payback. It’s chilling and grotesque. This is a fair summary of Things Viral overall. Even the quiet segments – and there are many – are occupied by sections of such weight that make your body feel as if its being dragged down, not by gravity, but by a darker force, one which will suck your very soul.

‘Dead’, at ten minutes, is but an interlude, but it radiates serial killer raving lunatic mania vibes for its entire duration, as the guitars throb and burn. It’s messy, and so, so heavy: you feel the pressure in your ribs, a weight in your limbs. The final track, ‘Too Close Enough To Touch’ is an absolute monster, which sits more closely alongside the harsh noise and overt extremism of Whitehouse and the point at which industrial strains its mangled way into power electronics than anything even remotely metal. ‘Stay inside… stay inside’ Dubin snarls, his vocals distorted and crazed. You barely dare move a muscle, let alone leave the house.

Things Viral goes way beyond darkness, and plunges into purgatorial depths that would have terrified Milton, and 20 years on, still sounds like the dankest, nastiest thing you could hear in any given year.

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Sacred Bones – 1st December 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

The unexpected and unannounced arrival of Khanate’s fifth album, some seventeen years after they declared that they were calling it a day, and fourteen years after the release of the posthumous Clean Hands Go Foul caused quite a stir in certain circles – predominantly those occupied by black-clad beard-strokers. Although this is very much a stereotype, I’m reminded of the time I went to see Sunn O))) at The Sage in Gateshead on the same night one of Cheryl Cole’s X-Factor protégé’s was performing in the foyer of the three-stage venue. Incongruous doesn’t come close, and suffice it to say, I wasn’t hard to tell who was there for the ultimate lords of drone-doom and who was there for the cheesy mass-market commercial cash-in shit. There were a lot of beards and leather coats.

The reason Khanate are such big news on the underground is that the band is comprised of James Plotkin, Stephen O’Malley, Alan Dubin and Tim Wyskida, and according to their bio, ‘Together, they make terrifying music.’ Between their formation in 2001 and separation in 2006, they managed to find time out from their main projects to record four monumental albums, and the release of To Be Cruel earlier this year came with the announcement of the reissue of all four, both digitally and physically. And so this brings us to the first of these, their eponymous debut.

The press release sets the expectation, for those unacquainted or unfamiliar, telling of how ‘The cramped corner of hell that Khanate takes the listener to, sonically and psychologically, has almost nothing in common with the doom bands that populate stoner-oriented music festivals across the globe. Khanate is doom as a foregone conclusion, as merciless atmospheric pressure, as a blunt object to crack you over the skull with, slowly, repeatedly, and forever.’

Having only released some demos and their debut ØØ Void, Sunn O))) had yet to really break by the time Khanate came out, and in some ways, they beat Sunn O))) to the mark on launching blasting longform drone to the masses, with an album that featured just five tracks spanning a fill hour. And their colossally expansive duration is matched every inch of the way by the sonic brutality.

The album arrives in a squall of feedback before intestine-crushing low-end chords crash in and grind hard, immediately unsettling the lower colon. Thew gnarliest, most demonic vocals shriek amidst the raging infernal wall of noise, dredged from the molten mantel of deep down below. ‘Pieces of Quiet’ is punishing in every way, but not least in that while its devastating, annihilative work is done after about five minutes, it pounds and grinds on well past the thirteen-minute mark.

In context, doom and drone had both crawled out of the depths a good few years before, and with Earth 2: Special Low Frequency Version in 1993, Earth had defined a new form of metal with what will likely stand for all eternity as the ultimate heavy drone work. And yet, these guys believed they could add something further to this – and they were right. Drums, for a start. And vocals.

‘Skin Coat’ is every bit as nasty as the serial killer enthusiast title implies, the guitars mangled to fuck, combining to optimal effect the snarling nastiness of the most blackened of black metal and the sludgiest, most gut-churning doom, with 23bpm drum crashes at the crawling pace of Cop-era Swans. It’s dark and its overtly unpleasant, snarling subterranean oozing tar-thick blackness which crawls like larva and destroys everything in its wake.

‘Torching Koroviev’ is simply a brief interlude which fleetingly opens a portal into hell, before the eighteen-minute ‘Under Rotting Sky’ brings what is arguably the definitive representation of Khanate, again, a squall of feedback prefacing a shredding wall of downtuned and overdriven guitar, billowing and thick with a sludge-like density. It is, of course, an absolute copy of the Sunn O))) model, but with demonic vocals echoing, anguished and wracked with eternal pain through the crushing mesh of noise. It’s fearsome, deranged, the crazed vocal screaming into the abyss. There is no rational or clear way of exploring this: it’s scary, and there is no other way to look. This is the final pulverisation, pacing the way for the album’s brutally dark last track. ‘No Joy’ is appropriately titled, and as heavy as it gets. I crawl, cracked, from the crushing drone experience and as long an hour as nature evaporates from my weary body Slowly the lack-hole darkness takes its grip and begins to crush the very life from my limbs.

This album is twenty-two years old. Yes: twenty-two years. And yet it hasn’t aged a day or even a second. While so much music – particularly rock and metal – has aged and sounds of its time, Khanate froze time when they came together, and the result was like nothing else – and still stands to this day.

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†The Lord† (Greg Anderson) and Daniel Kubinski (Die Kreuzen, The Crosses) have released their haunting collaborative track, ‘Palliare.’ Long circling each other with reverence, Anderson and Kubinski teamed up to track guitars and vocals for the song late last year; the former recorded with Brad Wood at Sea Grass and the latter at Howl Street Studios.  The end result is nothing short of venomous, with caustic, corrosive vocals and massive, monolithic guitar. The ‘Palliare’ composition itself was inspired by “an empathetic attempt to interpret the despair of someone in palliative care,” comments †the Lord†.

Daniel Kubinski comments on the track: “The lyrics for ‘Pallaire’ were actually written in 2016 when the first line up of The Crosses were writing songs for an original LP. The lyrics were for a song entitled ‘Goner’ which was kind of a noisy, lightning speed, crazy song that sounded somewhat like the Birthday Party if they had written a hardcore song. I had always liked the lyrics so when the Crosses split up in 2017 (the first inception of the group) I held on to the lyrics hoping to use them for something else down the road.” He continues, “In 2022 Sunn O))) guitarist and Southern Lord founder Greg Anderson approached me and invited me to sing on one of his songs for his project, The Lord. The first time I heard the song Greg sent me, I immediately remembered the Goner lyrics and thought they might work for the song, they were a perfect fit! I am so proud to be part of The Lord family and that Greg and Southern Lord believed in me to come up with the goods.” †The Lord† adds: “I’ve been a massive fan of Daniel Kubinski ever since I heard his caustic vocals in Die Kreuzen circa 1985. While the musical direction of Die Kreuzen changed drastically over the years, it was always anchored by Daniel’s unique, innovative vocal style. Massive respect to him for simultaneously blazing a unique path and breaking new ground. I finally got to meet Daniel when Sunn O))) played with his current band, The Crosses, in Milwaukee at the Turner Ballroom. I was equally blown away by his performance that evening as well as his humility and kindness.”

Watch the video here:

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1st September 2023 – Panurus Productions

Christgopher Nosnibor

A couple of years ago, Fading Tapes released Cartographer, an hour-long album divided into four near-equal segments which thoroughly confounded expectations, for it was no ordinary collage of found sounds assembled to charter fields of exploration.

On Rites Of Passage, they promise a work of greater urgency than its predecessor, where ‘sparse percussion forms the pulse of the ceremony, as whistles and less identifiable sounds weave through and over droning amplified strings and effects… The remnants of some post-apocalyptic culture so far removed from the catastrophe that the relics of their past exist only as cyclopean ruins and talismans.’

This is some evocative verbiage, and it’s fitting for such an evocative aural experience. Whether or not it’s music, well, opinions are likely to be divided.

On the subject of division, Rites Of Passage is far less equally divided than its predecessor, featuring two compositions, in the form of the ten-minute ‘Bantu’ and the twenty-seven minute title track. An album of two halves it is not. Harder and harsher than its predecessor it really is.

‘Bantu’ is a warping drift of psychedelic semi-ambient desert-rock with some twisted, twangy guitars stretching overheatedly across a lethargic beat which clatters and clumps lazily. But there’s a trilling recorder or something in the distance and the guitars build to a swirling drone and as the sound swells the drone – the buzz of a loose, downtuned string against a fret – grows. That woodwind… it sure as hell ain’t Jethro Tull.

And then… ‘Rites of Passage’. Epic doesn’t cut it. If Earth 2 was ground zero for heavyweight drone, the last thirty years have seen a large number of acts follow suite. It’s fitting that Earth 2 was released thirty years ago, really, as it provided some useful context. While Sunn 0))) have taken the template of Earth 2 and pushed it to the absolute limit in terms of crushing doom-laden drone, others have expanded on this premise. Sleep’s Dopesmoker may be a landmark release in this timeline but the fact s that there have been so many influential offshoots that it’s not easy to keep track.

But ‘Rites of Passage’ is hypnotic, mesmerising. You find yourself zoning out. Of course you do. You’re supposed to. ‘Rites of Passage’ is a remarkable track which plugs away at a relentless motoric beat for its entire duration. There’s a wall of noise building. Sensurround, now, and an enveloping shell of abstract noise around it, a squall of sound.

Glorious and tense and painful in equal measure Rites Of Passage is one hell of an album: All the guts, all the grit, and all of the weight.

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Khanate, who recently ended their fourteen year hiatus with the surprise release of To Be Cruel (Sacred Bones Records), have debuted an experimental short visual for ‘Like A Poisoned Dog’, bringing the Karl Lemieux-created album art to life.

“These stills are abstract but depending on the context, they become objects and objective. And alongside Khanate, they have this strange organic feeling,” Stephen O’Malley notes. “They’re abstract, hand-painted film stills, not photos of organic objects or something, which I think is really interesting because it’s similar to our music. We put a frame around the music with a concept and it presents something, but otherwise, it’s abstract. This lined up very well with Karl’s work.”

“In addition to my other film work, I like to work with camera-less film techniques and paint directly on 16mm film,” explains Lemieux, whose resume includes films, installations and performances that have screened at a variety of venues including the Montreal Contemporary Arts Museum, MOMA San Francisco, as well as over a decade of collaborative work with Godspeed You! Black Emperor. “In 2021, Stephen asked if he could use some of those images for the new Khanate record. I’m someone who spends a lot of time flipping through the artwork of records, CDs, and cassettes…. It’s part of my listening ritual. I have always loved Stephen’s record design work and I was very excited about this collaboration and the way it all came out. The idea for a video came later. It’s not a film, it’s not a music video, but some kind of collision between an excerpt from the piece ‘Like A Poisoned Dog’ and the raw material that I used to make still images.”

Watch the video here:

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Sacred Bones – 19th May 2023

Christopher Nosnibor

It’s been fourteen years since there was new music from Khanate, the experimental doom outfit featuring members of Sunn O))), OLD, and Blind Idiot God. It’s perhaps not surprising that my social media feeds have been bursting with the news of the surprise arrival of their fifth album on digital platforms ahead of a physical release next month– and because it landed from nowhere overnight, you couldn’t say it was eagerly anticipated, but it’s got a lot of people excited.

As you would expect, given the members’ main projects, and the previous Khanate releases, To Be Cruel is an absolute monster, with just three tracks spanning a full hour. You don’t tune in to Khanate for snappy pop tunes.

The first chord hits like an atomic bomb, blasting from the speakers with such force it’s almost enough to floor you, and rising from the sustain, crackling synth notes, then another sonic detonation that’s so hard and loud it hurts. Many of the tones and tropes of To Be Cruel are heavily redolent of the crushing doom drone of Sunn O))), but as the first piece, ‘Like a Poisoned Dog’ abundantly evidences, Khanate are different. This difference may be less apparent to the casual listener, but the stop/start power chords and skewed, sinewy shards of feedback are cut from a different sonic cloth, and if Sunn O))) are renowned for their indebtedness to Earth, there are elements woven in here which seem to owe more to early Swans, and while I wouldn’t necessarily want to speculate on whether the album’s title is some kind of response to Swans’ 2014 album To Be Kind, there is some kind of contextual interface here, in that both acts are pushing parameters within a longform song format.

And then there are the vocals: it’s a good seven minutes before Alan Dubin makes his first contribution: the song takes another swerve, the blistering blast simmers down and as he howls and roars, the feel is a cross between the darkest of mangled metal and brutal hardcore. And his manic screams are powerful and affecting. He sounds troubled, but in a way that conveys the kind of tortured mental suffering that’s common to many: it’s a primal howl of rage ad anguish that we struggle to unleash, and so to hear this is to feel emotions channelled by proxy, and as much as it hurts, it’s a release.

‘It Wants to Fly’ takes it to the next level, presenting almost twenty-two minutes of pain. The guitar is slow, crushing, punishing. What can you say? It hurts. It’s also minimal in arrangement but maximal in volume: this is first-gear BPM, with decimating feedback between the crushing chords. At the same time, it’s doomy and ominous as well as raging, making for a powerful cocktail of weight and raw emotion. There is no question that Khanate bring both.

And so it is that the album’s third and final track, the twenty-minute title track, is twenty minutes of low drone and tortured screaming that sounds like a breakdown captured on tape as Dubin yelps and screams about spiders against a sparse backing of a distant rumble and clanging guitar. ‘Look! In the closet!’ he shrieks in what sounds like abject terror. You dare not look. You don’t even want to hide under the bed: you just want to leave the house. The composition takes its time, it hums and drones, and in time, it hits and it hurts, and in some way you wish you could be Dublin, you want this release to have a channel into the unhinged. But you’re stuck on the outside, an observer to what sounds like either the ultimate catharsis or mental disintegration.

Ground down to nothing beyond and anguished screams and squalling feedback, this is bare bones, the sound of desperation. It isn’t pleasant, and there is simply no room to breathe: this is dark, dense torturous, and it’s exactly what fans have been waiting fourteen years for.

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2022 has been a phenomenally active year for Greg Anderson as The Lord. Having previously shared standalone track releases, he then released his debut solo album Forest Nocturne in Summer followed by a collaborative album with Petra Haden, Devotional, in October.

Now, he is heard in collaboration with David Pajo in a brand new track, "Nazarite", which sees the two musicians meet over ominous arpeggios and spoken word segments in this new track which Greg suggests is a "gateway" to more collaborations in the future.

Greg says, "I’m beyond honoured to have been able to collaborate with David Pajo for this ever evolving output as The Lord. Slint remains one of the most important bands ever to me. I composed the music for ‘Nazarite’ as a love letter to Slint that exemplifies my obsession and devotion. David’s brilliant response to my humble offering is clear proof of his genius."

David Pajo says, “In Tennessee, I played a bit of acoustic guitar on the Goatsnake song ‘Another River To Cross.’ It was then that I realized we had a perfect working dynamic. We seem to be able to push an idea from nothing into solid shape, without much effort or ego. I trust Greg’s ear and musical sense implicitly—he’s fearless.”

Listen to ‘Nazarite’ here:

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Devotional is the new collaborative release from The Lord (Greg Anderson of Sunn O))), Goatsnake and Engine Kid) with vocalist and violinist Petra Haden.  The album is a rapturous and heady offering of wordless vocalizations, droning guitars, and heaviness explored in unexpected and intoxicating ways.  On Devotional, through a haze of incense, flowing robes, and secret mantras, Petra Haden’s voice rings out over constant drones in ecstatic chants throughout this musical investigation into the myriad of ways in which worship can lure and intoxicate. This is a journey that Haden and Anderson go on together, the guitar and vocals combined like the call and response of a guru and its congregation.

Petra Haden first worked with Greg Anderson during his time in Goatsnake, as well as on the second SUNN O))) studio album, ØØ Void.  Now, two decades later, the duo reunite for Devotional.  Anderson comments, “It had been about 20 years since we had recorded together and Petra is as she was then: a master improviser and otherworldly vocalist.” Haden continues, “It was so much fun getting to play and sing on SUNN O)))’s album ØØ Void. 20 years later, I’m on stage with them at The Mayan Theater in Los Angeles singing and playing on the encore. I was in heaven! After the show, Greg and I talked about working on more music together. When I heard his ideas, I already had melodies in my head. I recorded some ideas at home and it developed from there. Greg is a really deep listener and he’s so much fun to work with. Getting to collaborate with Greg reminds me why I love to sing and improvise. I feel free and happy. That’s what music is all about."

Watch ‘Yaman’ here:

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Photo credit: © Steven Perilloux

2nd September 2022

Christopher Nosnibor

UK duo Thraa consists of Sally Mason and Andi Jackson, whose bio states that ‘Working without the constrictions of a traditionally structured song, this duo improvise around meditative drones, combining Sunn 0))) influenced guitars with soaring vocals. Making single take recordings, they capture an organic sense of sound that has cavernous textures with minimalism at heart.’

In some respects, this debut EP brings us full-circle in terms of drone evolution, and it’s fitting in the most appropriate, and planetary sense. The most successful and celebrated purveyors of drone, Sunn O))) famously took their moniker as a reference to drone/ doom progenitors Earth, who will, in certain circles, be forever remembered for the tectonic grind of their epic second album, Earth 2, from 1993, which contains just three tracks spanning some seventy-three minutes, with nothing but guitar and bass feedback stretching out, crunching along at a glacial pace and carrying the weight of entire continents. It’s hard to believe that this release will ever be surpassed for all that it is, with two of the three tracks stretching out around the half-hour mark with no shape or form, only an endless, grating, grumbling grind. Into Earth connotes a return to base material, a slow collapse, even a decay into compost form, but also hints at a sonic slide toward this territory carved out by the original and definitive drone act some twenty-nine years ago.

Thraa intimidated at the shape of things to come in June with the release of ‘Move Among Them’, which is the first of the EP’s four tracks. It’s swampy, sparse, beginning with an awkward, gurgling, wheezing, a kind of tentative snuffling grunt in the bass region before soaring, sculpted feedback howls and churns metallic—tinged clouds of scraping ambience. It probably sounds like a contradiction on paper, but hear me out: the screeding layers blur into a whirl without definition and tumble into a vortex of abstraction, and in doing so, create the sound closest to that early Earth whorling wall I’ve heard from any other band.

The title track lacks even more overt form, spurs of guitar feedback screeching as it breaks loose from the dense, rippling wall of undifferentiated noise. There are strong elements of Metal Machine Music here, but it’s around the midpoint that a slow, rhythmic piano emerges, along with a haunting understated vocal from Sally that’s half-buried beneath the noise of explosions and / or tidal waves. It’s both dolorous and ethereal, and BIG | BRAVE comparisons aren’t out of place here, either.

Everything coalesces after the subdued scrape and low-end rumblings of ‘Elgon’ on the seventeen-minute finale ‘Over Warm Stones’. Nothing different happens as such: there is only more, in terms of duration, and in terms of atmosphere. The snaking, rattling notes that swell and shimmer provide a sparse, textured backdrop to a quivering, evocative vocal performance.

Into Earth may not offer anything new, per se, but does provide a strong contribution to the canon of emotive, evocative ambient drone / doom which features vocal, which in this instance are essential to the experience, and it’s an experience which is compelling, immersive, heavy as hell and at the same time heavenly, before it collapses into a landslide of feedback that stretches out to the horizon.

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Southern Lord continues the label’s prolific output with the release of a new album: Greg Anderson’s debut full-length as The Lord, Forest Nocturne, which we recently reviewed here at Aural Aggro.

Additionally, The Lord has unveiled the Forest Nocturne demo recordings, originally only available on the Daymare Records Japanese CD edition, now available via Bandcamp.

You can get your lugs round the demos here:

Forest Nocturne sees Anderson (guitarist of SUNN O))), Goatsnake & Southern Lord curator) taking cues from legendary film composers: John Carpenter and Bernard Hermann, in order to create cinematic landscapes which are heavy with tension, and offset by the injection of lethal doses of early 90s Scandinavian Death Metal – with Attila Csihar (of notorious Norwegian black metal band Mayhem & frequent SUNN O))) collaborator) lending his putrid vocals to final track "Triumph of the Oak."

For Forest Nocturne, Anderson worked with renowned producer Brad Wood. Dan Seagrave’s epic and fantastical style is instantly recognisable on the album’s startling artwork, something which seems to depict an ancient and unknowable force in the woodlands. Forest Nocturne is described by Anderson as “music of the night,” but inspired by imagery conjured on daytime hikes, and majestic, beautiful trees, which he sees as survivors – perhaps the last known connection that we have to an ancient world, and acting as a connector between past, present and future of the human race and of our time on this planet.

Greg Anderson began making music in the mid-eighties with hardcore bands False Liberty and Brotherhood before refining his musicality during the nineties with the post-hardcore collective Engine Kid. From that point on, the musical direction started shifting, channelling his love of tone, riffs and repetitive sound, vital elements that feed into the meditative cosmos of SUNN O))), and the ‘low and slow’ sounds of Goatsnake, both of whom find different ways to move beyond confines and tropes of their respective sound worlds.

In August and September 2021 respectively, Greg Anderson released two singles under the name The Lord; "Needle Cast" with Robin Wattie (the unmistakably emotive vocalist of BIG|BRAVE) and "We Who Walk In Light" with William Duvall (of Seattle rock legends Alice In Chains and hardcore-punk group Neon Christ). Unintentionally moving in a different direction from those bands within which he found his feet, Anderson was able to take on the mantle of The Lord in a new, pictorial approach to heavy music. Through this process, he found himself moved to collaborate with vocalists he admires.

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