Evidently raised on a diet of Twilight Zone reruns, fantasy, monster flicks, and Iommi riffs, Chicago’s Sacred Monster is, first and foremost, a pretty unique outfit. Take the campy and otherwise nerdy jubilance of Gloryhammer, splice it through the sludgy riff-driven aesthetic of Time Traveling Blues-era Orange Goblin, and enjoy the resulting concoction whilst having your molars removed in the damp confines of a medieval dungeon. Ah, hell. Throw in an aggressive vocal tone accented with Them-worthy shrieks for good measure. That (in an appropriately weird nutshell) is what you get with Sacred Monster’s debut LP. Worship the Weird is, without a doubt, the single-most entertaining album I’ve heard this year, and I’m very, very excited for its release on March 1st.
Fear not: We’ll be writing a full review of Worship the Weird in good time. Today, however, is all about lead single High Confessor, which can be streamed below. Taking inspiration from the sneering Sand dan Glokta from Joe Abercrombie’s First Law Trilogy, the track follows a torturer and his victim through the inevitable grisly affair. “Go ahead,” the protagonist growls in his cruelly contemptuous tone. “Beg God for mercy... but He doesn’t hold the pliers down here.” High Confessor is a track that ratchets up the riff-centric intensity--both thematically and sonically--with shameless abandon. The result? A wildly groovy and aggressive ride. I could blather all day. But let’s get to the music, shall we? Check out High Confessor...and if you are equally smitten, take it upon yourself to check out that pre-order.
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 Lest the masses be confused: I am decidedly an album guy. A truly well-conceived arrangement of tracks, designed with the explicit purpose of flowing and interlocking with deliberate grace--for me, this is the holy grail of the music-listening experience. With that said, this month has been all about the singles, evidenced best by the number of goddamn times I’ve hit repeat on Red Beard Wall’s (certifiably) unstoppable latest.
For those of you not in the know, RBW plays a wickedly cacophonous brand of sludge--a brutal slugfest between the hooky pseudo-melodic stylings of Torche or Helmet, and the bayou groove of NOLA’s finest. Here, the formula hasn’t changed all that much, thank the lord. Given past experiences I went in expecting a lot, and this track absolutely brings it in the execution department, due in large to the multifaceted vocal delivery. Raspy roars one moment, chant-along-the riff cleans the next. It’s a delicious recipe, to be sure, accented by crunchy, head-bopping riffage and some absolutely crushing work in the percussion department. This is sludge rock at its finest--thick, unique, and relentlessly repeatable. It’s a rabble-rouser, a neck-snapper. As a single, The Warming does its job...inordinately well. Red Beard Wall’s (excellent, I assure you) sophomore album, The Fight Needs Us All, releases Feb 22nd from Argonauta Records. Full review shall follow in good time. In the meantime, we Villagers, effectively woken from our slumber, highly recommend you find your way over to that preorder. Red Beard Wall can be found Bandcamp  Lest the masses be confused:
I am decidedly an album guy. A truly well-conceived arrangement of tracks, designed with the explicit purpose of flowing and interlocking with deliberate grace--for me, this is the holy grail of the music-listening experience. With that said, this month has been all about the singles, evidenced best by the number of goddamn times I’ve hit repeat on Red Beard Wall’s (certifiably) unstoppable latest. For those of you not in the know, RBW plays a wickedly cacophonous brand of sludge --a brutal slugfest between the hooky pseudo-melodic stylings of Torche or Helmet, and the bayou groove of NOLA’s finest. Here, the formula hasn’t changed all that much, thank the lord. Given past experiences I went in expecting a lot, and this track absolutely brings it in the execution department, due in large to the multifaceted vocal delivery. Raspy roars one moment, chant-along-the riff cleans the next. It’s a delicious recipe, to be sure, accented by crunchy, head-bopping riffage and some absolutely crushing work in the percussion department. This is sludge rock at its finest--thick, unique, and relentlessly repeatable. It’s a rabble-rouser, a neck-snapper. As a single, The Warming does its job...inordinately well. Red Beard Wall’s (excellent, I assure you) sophomore album, The Fight Needs Us All, releases February 22nd from Argonauta Records. Full review shall follow in good time. In the meantime, we Villagers, effectively woken from our slumber, highly recommend you find your way over to that preorder. Red Beard Wall can be found: Bandcamp  As a wordslinger here at the Sleeping Village, my vocabulary is my pride n’ joy. While the reviews and features published here are (admittedly) a little verbose, it is this academic rigor that defines us. Thus, as a thesaurus hound, a word with which I am unfamiliar is if nothing else, a challenge. A month back, Sword Horse (Albuquerque’s soon-to-be-favorite doom duo) threw down the gauntlet with a single bearing a wildly pedantic title, born of the Latin but otherwise lost on me. Needless to say: hook, line, sinker. Today’s vocab means, loosely, that he/she will bind, tie, or otherwise fetter. What a fitting title for such a constricting track. Sword Horse don’t deal in doom of a relaxed nature. This music falls off the extreme end of the spectrum. Dark, violent, crushing--all are apt. Rather than riffs, Sword Horse writes motifs in distortion. Rather than intelligible vocals, a harsh cry emanates from the blackened void. While prior singles and their Affliction EP recall Primitive Man in a dedication to the purest form of sonic annihilation, Obstrinxerit taps into something even more visceral. On Affliction, the percussion in particular was a defining quality, allowing the sludgy atmosphere a structure. Here, that structure is pulverized, replaced by a free-flowing ambiance, an irresistible pull into a cave that is too small. In this case, Death doesn’t beckon, so much as leave you with no other option. Obstrinxerit’s strongest suit is the vocals, which echo and billow, filling the space with remarkable aptitude. For a six minute track, it seems half its length, which is quite telling given the rejection of a typical template. With that said, should Sword Horse put out an album of this material, some additional features will likely be necessary to maintain the high standard of pummeling and constricting music they have created until this point. If you like your metal raw and visceral, this loquacious Villager highly recommends you give Obstrinxerit some of your hard-earned time.  Given the obvious influences affecting today’s mustard-yellow EP in question, let me just slip into this cozy confessional & state the uncomfortable truth: all things considered, I could probably live in a world without EYEHATEGOD. Despite undeniable deity status in certain circles, Mike William’s particular vocal quality has never rubbed me the right way--nor, for that matter, the wrong way. Franky, it just doesn’t really rub me at all (and now, pardon me for a minute whilst I hand in my sludge card.)
This isn’t to say, however, that I could live (or even remotely enjoy) a sludge-less existence. As a genre, it remains a toxic concoction, combining the depressive gloom of doom with the sheer rabidity of hardcore. It’s messy. It’s dirty. It’s a sputtering engine, suffocating in grease and drowning in mud. For a relatively simple formula, Tombtoker’s particular brand is a distillation of everything I find appealing about sludge metal. Cobbled together from the sarcophagal scraps of metal history--Black Sabbath, Weedeater, Iron Monkey, Black Flag, Crowbar, Wolf Blood, the aforementioned EYEHATEGOD, & maybe even a lil’ Neurosis--Coffin Texts, Tombtoker’s forthcoming debut EP, is a well-conceived effort. And that’s putting it lightly. Starting from the ground up, Tombtoker plays stoner doom with a punky, aggressive, and otherwise rusty edge. The sonic qualities of the bands listed above are all prevalent, but Coffin Texts doesn’t necessarily feel like a regurgitation of existing material. It’s a unique bent on the whole genre package, and this outfit’s obvious skill and ability to write intriguing songs are undeniable. Armed with hooks-a-plenty, these are the kind of tunes that drag you down with ease. For the most part, the dual guitars grip tightly to each other, establishing a pythonian groove early on. That said, the occasional solo rises from the muck, and if not for these moments, the duality would feel underutilized. The riffs are crunchy as one might expect, and then some--slow, dense, an algae-coated Sasquatch wading through the Northeastern wilderness. While sludge often suffers from, well, a sludgy mix, Coffin Texts sounds pretty damn fine. The bass work here is worth a special mention. Like a besmirched baker vengefully frosting a shit cake, Mr. Hagen lays it down with a disgustingly thick intensity. “Warfare revolution” and “Blood freak” carry themselves with an unprecedented weight, while finisher “Globster” feels like it was written exclusively to showcase that meaty low end. Vocally, Mark Kuczak’s deep growl and rusty bark never overpowers the guitar (or drums, for that matter). He’s got a helluva lot hidden up his sleeve, and over the course of the EP, reveals a bevy of vocal deliveries. This only adds to Tombtoker’s noteworthy dynamism. Standout tracks? It is to Coffin Texts’ extreme credit that choosing is, in fact, an impossibility. Every track contained within this 20ish minute runtime has its own slimy charm, and over numerous visitations, listening to this beast from top to bottom is an inevitability. Bottom line? Tombtoker does sludge metal proud. These guys have been on my radar since they first starting liking my instagram posts (hey, vanity pays!) Needless to say, the Sleeping Village shall be following Tombtoker quite intently from this point forward. Coffin Texts is a very high quality debut. Heartfelt recommendations are in order Coffin Texts releases Dec. 7th from Seeing Red Records. In the meantime, may I point you in the direction of that $6.66 preorder? Don’t mind if I do. Tombtoker can be found at: Bandcamp Instagram For this week’s humble sampler, we’re turning the spotlight on a small DIY label from Quebec City, land of my ancestors. Specializing in slow-burning, distortion-heavy riffage, @from_the_urn are curators of the highest order. Without further ado, let’s get fuzzy.  SLOTHER - MMXVII
Want a succinctly accurate descriptor? Slother delineates their sound thusly: “damp riffs.” Certainly makes sense for a sound that was discovered in the depths of the St. Lawrence & thrust into mildew’d, barnacle-infested service. Sopping tone notwithstanding, Slother deals in an obtusely visceral blend of sludge & slasher aesthetics. If that ain’t enough to wet your whistle, the leisurely harsh vocals should seal the deal. This demo is massively promising. STONED HORSES - Horstrummental While never having witnessed a stoned horse, draught horses are my speed. I can safely say that this band potentially pulls as much weight as a Percheron or Clydesdale. A vocal-less endeavor, rippling muscular riffage is Stoned Horse’s forte. Nothing groundbreaking on display here, but if you like hardworking, frothy-mouthed tone, you’ve certainly come to the right place. À 2 jours de cheval, in particular, comes highly recommended. GRAND MORNE - S/T My father, on Rush’s Snakes & Arrows: “For 3 dudes, they make a lot of noise!” Something quite similar can be said here. Grand Morne is built on a simple foundation. Guitar, bass, drums? One of each. Vocals? Largely unnecessary. Despite these self-inflicted limitations, Grand Morne creates one helluva racket & absolutely slays in the composition game, crafting a sonically diverse palate across the stoner & doom spectrums. For comparison, try Voivod’s progressive tendencies & the crunchy menace of early Cathedral on for size. I love this album, & sincerely hope that Grand Morne’s forthcoming full length projects them as serious contenders in front of a wider audience. SONS OF GEEZORA - S/T Fear not, Kaiju lovers. The Village’s plague doctor will be seeing this bad boy shortly. From the Urn Records can be found: Facebook, Instagram, Bandcamp Website |
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