“Global Metal is more of a documentary in the true sense of the word,” says Sam Dunn, “because it’s about more than just music; it’s about culture and about youth and about globalization. These are buzzwords that even the CBC loves.”

I interviewed Sam Dunn and Scot McFadyen for Unrestrained! last May, when they were in town promoting their latest documentary, Global Metal. Their visit coincided with the Rush and Iron Maiden gigs here—Dunn and McFadyen went to both shows, as they're shooting separate films about each. At the Maiden show, Dunn was actually on stage during "Heaven Can Wait," singing backup with a gang of contest winners. Lucky bugger.

It was a great kick to meet the two of them, and here are some outtakes from our interview, which took place at one of them Starbucks. (Dunn, by the way, was very impressed by the Mule Mobile, which has been my mainstay portable recorder for 25 years.)

Metallica's "Fight Fire With Fire" was a perfect choice for a theme song, seeing as kids around the world seem to have latched onto metal in response to societal or governmental oppression. How did you come to choose it, and when?

Dunn: I guess we ended A Headbanger's Journey with Metallica at Wacken, and we just kind of picked it up where we left off. "Fight Fire With Fire" is a great Metallica song. It set a template for extreme metal that continues to this day. It’s one of the first and one of the most well known that started with the acoustic guitar intro and then blasts you into this thrash metal song. And that’s something that bands are still doing to this day. So there’s somehing historically in there, but it’s mostly just picking up where we left off.

So it was more of a musical choice than a thematic choice.

Dunn: I guess. We met Lars and obviously we talked to him in Global Metal this time around. They really liked A Headbanger's Journey even though they couldn’t be in the film because they’d just finished Some Kind of Monster and were pretty burned out with cameras. He liked it enough to allow us to use "Master of Puppets" in the first one, so…

McFadyen: He was pretty awesome on this one. He found that Indonesian footage for us and sent it to us and he was like, “Don’t ever make a doc without us again.”

Dunn: I think Lars has learned that Metallica is big, but it’s not as big as the Internet. He can’t really stop it. I guess my perception of it... I mean, he’s got a bad rap because of his stance on Napster, but at the same time I think it was admirable that he was able to acknowledge [in the new movie] that this is something that is here to stay and it’s obviously something that is getting metal music to people around the world. I’m sure he would be shocked to discover that there were Saudi Arabian Metallica fans, right? I think he’s come around, which is a sign of wisdom.

Apart from your entry into China, lugging armfuls of professional film equipment through customs while on tourist visas, what were some of your hairier travel moments or experiences while traveling?

McFadyen: Our whole philosophy was that it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission. That was the whole way we went through this. They told us not to film in Tiananmen Square. That was a big thing. And we went in there with our little 16 mm camera, just walked in and filmed the Square. 15 guards came over eventually and put their hand on the camera and we were like, "Sorry." So that’s the way we try to go through things. It’ll catch up to us one day, maybe.

Dunn: We get asked a lot, "Was it difficult getting into all these countries, and were you intimidated or scared going to all of these countries?" We actually discovered that things were safer and more open than the way we had perceived it to be. Unfortunately we didn’t get into Iran. We wanted to get into Iran because the metal scene there is pretty interesting, but we couldn’t. We went to the Desert Rock Festival [in Dubai] instead, but apart from thtat, our experience was that we were really embraced by the metal scenes and generally it was a lot safer than we expected.

We don’t look like your average TV crew or like we’re with CNN. We liked our footprint to be small. I think that’s sort of what we like about making these documentaries is that you can be mobile and try and capture something that’s a little more human, a little more ground level than what youget through CNN or major news sources.

About the segment at Blackmore’s, the Deep Purple-themed bar in Japan, where drunken businessmen screech "Highway Star" at the top of their lungs—was that a typical night there?

McFadyen: That was the second time we had been there. We went when we were doing promo for the first film—just to drink. And we were like, "This is crazy." Because the bartender looks exactly like Ritchie Blackmore. We went back and there was a few more people there. I think they’d gotten wind that we were coming and as soon as we walked in, there was a cheer.

Dunn: Something we wanted to show there is that there’s a well-known phenomenon of the salary man in japan. It’s a slang term that is for the typical hard-working Japanese businessman, and the culture there is very much that you work, work, work, work, and when you leave work you drink with your workmates. That’s where you socialize, because the work environment in Japan is very work focused. The way you actually bond with your workmates is in that environment. So we just thought it was so funny to find these guys in, of all places, a Deep Purple-dedicated bar rocking out to "Highway Star." It was just something that people had to see, because we couldn’t believe we were seeing it.

McFadyen: There’s a few moments when you're filming where you think, “This is going in the film.” That was one of them.

As Canada’s metal ambassadors, in a sense, did you hear any interesting perceptions about Canada from people you met? Who’s the best-known Canadian band?

Dunn: Well, everywhere we go and we tell people we’re Canadian, they either mention Rush or Voivod. Those are usually the first two bands that come out of people’s mouths. I think Canada has kind of come into the fore because we are so close to the United States and yet we’re recognized as being quite different...especially post 9/11. I think that as Canadians, because of the society we’ve grown up in, we’re able to look at what’s going on around the world with pretty open eyes and have a certain balanced perspective on it that maybe other countries can’t.

McFadyen: We have a pretty healthy cultural perspective as Canadians. I think that comes across in this film. It’s kind of a positive message when you think about it. All these people were pretty amazing around the world.

Dunn: Another element to this is that if we were to do Global Metal 2, Quebec would be a good candidate because it’s recognized as a home of top-quality death metal music, has been since the days of Gorguts and Obliveon and all those old bands. It has its own unique scene. And it’s interesting—the Catholic, French-speaking, much more European section of Canada became the home for metal in this country. Next to Bergen, Norway, there's more metalheads per capita in Quebec City than anywhere else.

Generals gathered in their masses,
Just like witches with pint glasses...

I just thought, "Oh, bugger this. I want to listen to a bit of Rush."

Believe it or not, this clip from Saxondale gets better from there.

I think I've mentioned Banzai Records a few times on this blog. Banzai played a HUGE role in disseminating underground metal in Canada during the '80s. It licensed the cream of American, British and European independent metal labels—Neat, Megaforce, Metal Blade, and Noise in particular—and, through the distribution might of Polygram, put them in every damn record shop across Canada. Sure, their product could be "budget" and stingy on the packaging, but the fact that they got the music out there was the most important thing.

I still remember the excitement of seeing albums by bands I'd only read about in Kerrang! up on the wall at A&B Sound...and for $5.99, too! Kill 'Em All was the first LP I sprang for, little knowing that that album was the lit fuse on a scene that would quickly explode. Over 20 years later, I'm still listening to the dust and debris settle.

A few years ago, Adrien Begrand of Decibel & Popmatters captured that era much more skillfully than I can here. While I consider his piece the definitive Banzai retrospective, I'm always thrilled to find anyone else reminiscing about the label in print.

So it is in the latest issue of Decibel, where pro wrestler and Fozzy frontman Chris Jericho talks about being a metal fan in Winnipeg in the mid-'80s, and manages to neatly sum up the egalitarian nature of the new metal in the process:

"There was this label Banzai Records in Canada—it was the imprint for Metal Blade and Megaforce. Anything that was on Metal Blade or Megaforce in the States was on Banzai in Canada. We bought everything on that label... I remember buying Kill 'Em All because it was on Banzai and because the guys in the photo on the back had more zits than I did. I thought if those guys could be in a band and make it, then so could I."

Simian Special—The Cougar Stands Its Ground (SN Ratio)
Max (Sim Special) Arnason is a huge talent on the local scene, whether as part of the legendary Roadbed in their final days, teaming up with Super Robertson for a marvelous one-off album, or designing gig posters and CD packaging (he did stuff for my favourite Norse troll Mortiis, for Odin’s sake). The guy’s voice can transition effortlessly between a Martin Tielli-esque earnestness and David Lee Roth's partay yelp. Get him behind the drum kit, and he’s a similarly commanding presence. To see him take the stage at the Supper Show is always a treat. Simian Special is his own baby, a quartet with tight songs rooted in guitars from the 4AD school of texture—imagine a more gregarious Cure or a Rheostatics who’ve shucked off the burden of forging our national identity. The arrangements are detailed and precisely rendered, very much like Sim’s own visual designs. The drums snap, the harmonies soar, the guitars chime, synths snake in the background—something’s always going on. For me, the experience of listening to the album was a process of absorbing the minutiae over the course of a few airings, and after that the songs and hooks emerged in all their glory. There are an awful lot of 3 1/2 minute songs to take in—16 in all—so there’s a risk that some will be lost in the clutter. Nevertheless, there are a number of tunes I wouldn’t want to live without, like the hard charging “Frank Slide” (joining my own "Hope Slide" in the canon of songs named after western Canadian natural disasters) and “Solid Hole.” The high point of the album for me, though, is “Beloved Jane,” which gracefully unfurls a single chord progression, drapes a compelling vocal and ethereal guitar overtop and results in something majestic—their very own “Plainsong,” if you will. Graceful and unpretentious, it’s beautiful work.

I nearly had an aneurysm when I spied this ad on the back page of Exclaim! Here we see Noah and the other creepy Rogers Wireless kids eagerly having their phones scanned to gain admission to a hot Live Nation concert featuring Simple Plan. Fortunately, it's an exaggeration. Our favourite communication conglomerates are not actually offering virtual tickets via cell phone...yet.

Still, this ad gleefully condones flaunting your phone at rock concerts, and that to me is a bad thing. Many people agree, and you can read about it here. Roger Waters—surprise—finds them irritating. I hope the tide turns soon, and at some future gig, we'll see Noah and his friends taking out their phones for the doorman, who will confiscate the devices and feed them into a crusher.

Capillary Action—So Embarrassing (Pangaea Recordings)
Capillary Action picked an apt name. The band dips into and draws from many musical pools, with each rivulet terminating in a thick vein flowing with smooth pop, hardcore, jazz, and general prog goodness. If aliens flew over Nanaimo, beamed an unwary Elvis Costello into their craft and forced him to mind-meld with the Dillinger Escape Plan and Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, old Declan’s subsequent compositions might sound like something off So Embarrassing. The album is packed with brief songs that flirt with catchiness but inevitably fly off in all directions. Bandleader Jonathan Pfeffer’s songwriting philosophy is apparently “Get in, get out, and leave them with their heads spinning.” There will be no casual background listening once this album goes on. The amount of activity and detail in each song demands your full attention. The arrangements and production are both top-notch—the soothing pop moments are downright orchestral, while the production (engineered by aural punisher Colin Marston of Behold the Arctopus and Orthrelm) renders the loud/quiet contrasts with neck-snapping precision. Pfeffer’s lyrics, a minimal poetry of extreme anxiety, seem to direct the ever-shifting music that underpins them. Skimming the lyric sheet reveals much to fret over: “The secret exit that leads to an intricate trap.” “I think I heard a sound. There’s someone in side the house.” “I still sleep with gritted teeth.” “Deep-seated in a cement-filled gut.” Yes, the neuroses are tumbling out with the same manic drive as the music, and we’re all the better for it. Some lyrics are concerned with music itself, a topic that, when handled with style and skill (as it is here), is the best subject matter of all. So few artists can do it without being cheesy. “Self-Released” explores the parallels between two types of committed relationships: musicians/record labels and men/women. And in “Pocket Protection is Essential,” the author wants the song’s unnamed subject to “Pummel that fucking noise into my head. Make it burn, make it throb. I need a fix—where is it?” For me, it's right here on this album.

As luck would have it, Capillary Action play the Railway Club this Sunday, June 15. Lord knows how they pull off this kind of mayhem on stage, but it should be a visceral thrill anyway.

Progressive Nation Tour with Dream Theater, Opeth, Between the Buried and Me and Three, May 6, Orpheum Theatre
The unstoppable caravan of overachieving musos known as the Progressive Nation Tour rolled into my increasingly prog-friendly city a couple weeks ago. Being a proud citizen of that great nation (my dual passport is up for renewal, but I didn’t find any application forms at the merch tables) I ambled into the palatial confines of the Orpheum to pay tribute to the prog godz old and new.

Three started the night with a well-received half-hour set. Their sound was a little too polite and smooth for my tastes, but they didn’t lack for showmanship. Their two drummers—a chrome-domed standup dude with timbales and assorted percussion, as well as keyboards, and a rocker kid behind the drum kit—contributed much to the action, and the guitarist/frontman got himself a standing O with his acoustic interlude at the end of their set.

After that, I was a bit concerned about how Between the Buried and Me would go over with this crowd— an “all ages” gathering to be sure. Kids from 6 to 60, as Milton-Bradley might say. While I’m sure their epic death/prog metal + Queen approach was a bitter pill for some, the band did their best to whip the crowd up, and I think it worked. The audience certainly gave them a fair listen and responded well to BTBAM’s abrupt shifts and diversions. The band sounded great on the two (2!) songs from Colors they had time for; it’s a shame they couldn’t add a song or two from Alaska or The Silent Circus.

Swedish titans Opeth sounded almost minimalist by contrast, providing a refreshingly grounded performance compared to what came before and after them. With only 45 minutes at their disposal, this was an efficient set—a new song (“Heir Apparent”), a few heavy epics (“The Baying of the Hounds,” “Wreath,” “Master’s Apprentices”), a ballad (“In My Time of Need”) and a “hit” (“The Drapery Falls”). Not a comprehensive stroll through their catalogue, but enjoyable nevertheless. Their merch woman said they’d be back in September to headline, so once I’m through counting the days till Watershed comes out, I’ll start the countdown to September.

Dream Theater had the lot—projections, elaborate lighting, cameras to catch every fleet-fingered flurry of notes and ace display of stickmanship (James Labrie thankfully lacked a vocal-cord cam) and a nifty street-scene stage set. What they didn’t have was enough good songs to sustain my interest. I enjoyed them a little more than I thought I would. I expected half the set to be solo spots, which was not the case. We ducked out prior to the encore to hang out at the BTBAM merch table, only to have their bassist Dan persuade us to go back in for the closing medley, which to my pal Smash’s disgust, lacked anything from When Dream and Day Unite.

Despite the airing of a few complaints on the ride home, it was a fun evening of music, and I hope the Progressive Nation can unite again with a few more adventurous bands in tow. How’s about Behold… the Arctopus, Guapo, Kayo Dot, Upsilon Acrux, Sleepytime Gorilla Museum, Thinking Plague, Titan, Present, Time of Orchids, Ahleuchatistas… ? Like I said, I’m a citizen—I’m entitled to my vote.

I love our OM poster. I'm afraid my picture does it scant justice. David V. D'Andrea has done some stunning work, including album covers for Witchcraft, Ulver (the LP version of Shadows of the Sun) and Asunder.

I finally hung it properly today, in a spot where it presides over the record collection. In the fine print it lists the final date of the tour in Seattle, and once again I'm kicking myself for not going down for the show, especially because drummer Chris Hakius left the band shortly after this tour. It would have been great to see OM in their original lineup. Still, I'm looking forward to hearing how the new duo of Al Cisneros and Emil Amos sounds.

The Railway Club isn't the most relaxing place to be on a Saturday night, but I toughed it out last weekend in order to catch some hard-rocking bands. I went solo, but ran into some of the usual suspects at the club—the alliterative quartet of SR Jones, Sim, Snappy, and Shockk.

Victoria's Crown the Wolf were on first, with a set of solid songs in the Kyuss vein. Hey, who wouldn't want to sound like Kyuss? The singer/guitarist had a great voice for this style. Nice job!





Black Betty is a band I've wanted to see for ages; ever since I came across them at stonerrock.com and checked out their tunes at MySpace. Jonas and Ana's pummelling set—mixing the weighty riffs of Sabbath with the good times vibe of, say, Grand Funk—didn't disappoint at all.






The only letdown was that there was no merch to be found; I need their album. I don't do enough local bands for Unrestrained! (Antiquus and SYL/Devin Townsend have been the only Vancouver-area acts I've covered, I think), so I have to get in touch with them at some point.



Mongoose were on next (Sprëad Eagle headlined the night, but I had to hit the Skytrain before they went on). These guys have logged a million kilometres in the van since I last saw them, and their music's progressed way beyond the catchy punk bursts found on White Plastic Deer. Although they've gotten a lot more "rock & roll" and added a lot more diversions and complexity to their material, they still exude an all-ages basement show energy that's a joy to witness. This lineup—stalwarts Shockk, RC, Johnny, and new drummer Radar—is their strongest yet, and I hope they get a chance to record a followup album really soon.

Guapo—Elixirs (Neurot)
Elixirs has some unexpected twists and tangents. The British outfit’s previous two albums, Five Suns (Cuneiform) and Black Oni (Ipecac), which formed the first two chapters of a trilogy (a notion that the band likes to downplay because of its obvious prog-cliché nature), were steeped in aggressive complexity in the tradition of King Crimson and Magma and full of eerie, muscular music. Elixirs eases off to an extent that’s immediately apparent, and incorporates a lot more guitar work, vocals, and varied percussion. Overall, though, they haven’t changed their style all that much; they’ve just tweaked some of the dynamics and shading. A track like the opener “Jeweled Turtle” shows a lot of restraint over its nine minutes of simmering menace. Compared to Five Suns, where every lull led to an explosion, this piece refuses to pander to that expectation. “Arthur, Elsie and Frances” returns to the jagged rhythms and dynamics that abounded on earlier albums, but with a little less aggression than before. “King Lindorm,” the closing epic track, contains some of the most exciting passages on the album, with a compellingly slow buildup over a repetitive but complex piano figure and a satisfyingly weighty release at its climax. A pair of very interesting tracks occupy the middle of the album. “The Heliotrope” and “The Selenotrope” were previously released (as instrumentals) as the Twisted Stems EP and are a kind of yin/yang pairing, one with male vocals (by Alexander Tucker), one with female vocals (from Jarboe, who’s keeping pretty busy these days); one in a minor key, one in a major key. Both are very much in the vein of recent Ulver or old Brian Eno—sparse late-night ballads in no hurry to get anywhere. Elixirs doesn’t end the trilogy with a bang, but not quite a whimper either. If you’re already a fan, you won’t mind at all.

I’m not really into April Fool’s Day, and jokes where you’re made to feel gullible are the most terrible thing on earth to me. I remember Terrorizer magazine’s prank from about 10 years ago when they awarded Album of the Month to a black metal band called Arktyk, unknowns from Alaska who’d just signed with Relapse. The album’s description, something like extreme black metal mixed with Pink Floyd parts, sounded right up my alley—and, alas, they were entirely fictional. For about two hours I was all set to order their album before I realized I’d been reading the April issue. I was crushed. At least these days I can listen to Deathspell Omega, who basically fulfill all my progressive black metal requirements.

I did go out and have a hell of a time on Tuesday anyway. After work I headed to the Railway Club for Jen Currin’s book launch. Her latest collection is Hagiography, and my first impression is that it’s her most accessible work yet. Her poetry can be a little tricky and elusive (for want of a much better word), but I like it because every line is a surprise. When Jen reads, she reveals the amount of care and humour she puts into her work, and it becomes even more impressive. At times during her set I’d get derailed by a particularly brilliant line, like “He’s old enough to be her mother” and have to force myself to quit pondering it and rejoin the poem already in progress. The first poet of the evening, Bill Stobbs from Wisconsin, went over really well too. It’s a shame he sold out of books (he only had four copies on hand) so quickly.

From the Railway I went straight to La Casa Del Artista on Main Street for Stitching and Unstitching, a monthly jazz/improv event that Jeff Younger helps to put on. I don’t think I’ve mentioned Jeff Younger here before, which is a damn shame. He’s a sick guitarist with a twisted mind. Jeezly talented. You’re never quite sure what’s burbling beneath his gleaming pate, but you know it’ll inevitably express itself in some really cool musical way. He’s also a top man, and fighting the good fight in this here town. Last Tuesday’s Stitching and Unstitching featured Jeff doing his Devil Loops project and The Sukha Trio. Devil Loops saw Jeff, his guitar, and various digital confabulators and doohickeys work through a few different pieces that flowed really well, from mellow to skronktastic and back to mellow, building up layers (i.e. these newfangled “loops” alluded to in the project's name) with delay and stripping them down again. Despite what Jeff said between songs, none of it sounded like Santana.

The Sukha Trio consisted of Jared Burrows (guitar), Stan Taylor (drums) and Colin MacDonald (saxophone) and Daniel Hella (flute), Hella also threw in occasional toy accordion, bells, vocals, a noisemaker thing that looked like a Big Gulp cup with a wire hanging out of it. They set themselves up two-by-two on the floor in front of the stage, facing each other across the floor with a video projector between them. The projections showed blurred/abstracted footage of birds and planes, kids playing in water, and pots boiling. I’m a sucker for live music and visuals (slides or video), and The Sukha Trio’s presentation worked out nicely. Sometimes the video segments would finish before the music did, but with their loose-seeming arrangements I can’t say they were really intending to time everything to the exact second. My only real quibble would be they went a little long (I was tired, I admit, full of poetry and beer), but I’d definitely like to see them again, especially if they work up a new set. I feel pretty lucky that La Casa is right down the street from me. I’ve seen some cool things there recently, including a triple bill of punk rock (including moviecore monsters Graf Orlock) where I was undoubtedly the oldest dude in the room.

Woods of Ypres—Woods III: Deepest Roots and Darkest Blues (Krankenhaus)
Inspiring, uplifting and positive aren’t the usual adjectives you’d associate with a ragingly superb black metal album. So let’s say the third Woods of Ypres release is also dark, fierce, and uncompromising. The Toronto trio have reworked black metal conventions—especially in terms of lyrical subject matter—to create a style that’s very individual and not a little brave given its plain-spoken openness and shunning of anti-Christian, pro-pagan themes. Musically, despite guitarist/vocalist/drummer David Gold’s self-declared status as a “black metal being,” I wouldn’t even say this is pure BM. WoY instead offer a hybrid of black and doom and the dark melodic Scandinavian sound of Amorphis and Katatonia, over which Gold alternates clear/harsh vocals as the music shifts pace and mood. It’s a bruising combination—don’t expect watered-down ear candy for goth kids—that allows for healthy variety in songwriting approaches and a satisfying flow of material across this lengthy album. Gold’s view of the world is a mite vengeful and intrinsically Canadian (more on that later), yet he exists in a moral universe where hard work and self-belief are rewarded, and the weak-willed are cast aside. He’s got a lot get off his chest—the four years since their last album, the similarly lengthy Pursuit of the Sun and Allure of the Earth, must have seen some mighty struggles—and delivers years worth of spite in his copious lyrics. When he roars “Suffer!” on the crushing “Iron Grudge” it’s not directed at the Lord or his followers; he’s castigating some weak soul who obviously screwed the band over—perhaps an ex-bandmate who showed up late for practice one day. I personally find that the most affecting tracks are the mid-paced ones. “December in Windsor,” for example, has a memorable tune and acoustic guitars that ring out in stirring fashion. Looming majestically over everything, however, is “Your Ontario Town is a Burial Ground,” a melodically infectious yet vicious potshot at small-town apathy that I’d like to declare our metal National Anthem for 2008. As for my “intrinsically Canadian” claim, the penultimate track “To Lock Eyes With a Wild Beast” explores our uneasy relationship with nature—as Canadians, we’re surrounded by it, celebrate it, brag about it, but we ultimately fear it. We build suburbs ever higher up the mountains, then shoot the bears who wander down to sniff the household garbage. Gold’s Beast isn’t the one from the Revelations; it’s the one lurking just beyond the trees. As the song’s pathetic protagonist is chased down and eaten alive, Gold scolds, “You wanted nature? Nature wanted you as well.” I know I’ll have some pepper spray at the ready next time I go for a hike. Woods of Ypres continue to provide a powerfully original and articulate voice in a genre where so much clamour and misdirected menace often amounts to nothing. Woods III is a triumphant conclusion to their first trilogy of releases.

Here's a lazy ol' YouTube post to ease back into this. Black Mountain did the business on Conan's show the other night...


Before the sweater and the beard, Steve McBean used to play in Victoria's Mission of Christ, a great metal band who mixed DRI, Slayer, and Celtic Frost into a caustic melange of deathly goodness. I regret I never got to see them; I didn't have any thrash metal buddies in the late '80s.

Oh, the humanity! (via Metafilter again).

Check out this thread on Italian prog at Metafilter. You know you want to. The beards, the bombast—fantastico! If the Banco link doesn't frighten you, nothing will.

I spotted this at the entrance to the Hard Rock Cafe in Niagara Falls. Alas, I didn't heed Keith, Greg and Carl's call—we checked out the Casino slots instead and lost it all. A Lucky Man I wasn't.

Some bad pictures taken from inside a moving vehicle.

Niagara Falls is extremely classy, with many amenities for the discerning gentleman.


One of the last vestiges of the Guccione empire? Needless to say, next time I'll stop in for a Caligula Calzone or maybe a Corinne Alphenburger.


I don't even want to imagine the kind of sick stuff that goes on in here.

Planets—s/t (Distile)
The avalanche of quality math rock continues. I’ve never encountered an incompetent math rock band—some have clearly mastered more advanced math than others, but none have out-and-out sucked. Maybe all the potentially lame bands realize they won’t cut the mustard before they commit their naïve arithmetic to tape and embarrass themselves. Releases like this can provoke that kind of harsh self-contemplation. Planets are a number-crunching duo from Napa, California. Paul Slack handles bass, while Thomas Crawford covers “not bass,” which must equate to at least drums and guitar, based on what I hear here. I’d be interested to find out how the two of them wrote and recorded this stuff because the guitar is tightly interwoven with the rhythm section. If it was overdubbed onto bass/drum jams, it’s impressively executed. Most of the songs are the kind of skittering riff farms to which any fan of Dysrhythmia, Upsilon Acrux or Ahleuchatistas would be attuned. If I can pick out any distinguishing attribute amidst their undeniably excellent musical execution, it’s their commitment to rocking out. They’re not afraid to linger on a particularly blistering riff for a few seconds, or ride a groove for a couple minutes (as on “Return of a Dead Man”). The sound is suitably chunky as well. Rest assured, Planets will scramble your synapses (12 varied, intense tracks over 25 minutes will do that), but on a number like “Exercise!” they show they can write a tune you have a hope of recognizing on your second or third listen. The disc comes sewn inside a cloth pouch, so have scissors and a clean pant leg (to wipe the lint off the playing surface) handy if you get yourself a copy. The music’s well worth the extra prep.

OM—Pilgrimage (Southern Lord)
OM are one of those high-concept bands that proliferate nowadays. The duo—Al Cisernos and Chris Hakius (ex-Sleep)—plays stripped-down low frequency vision-quest music, with bass and drums leaning heavily on each other during longform spiritual journeys towards a kind of ambient-metal Xanadu where pre-Dark Side Pink Floyd and Black Sabbath commingle in a space/doom void. All in all, it's quite a contrast to former bandmate Matt Pike’s maximum rock and roll approach in the equally righteous High On Fire. OM's compelling power-through-minimalism approach also stands in opposition to more assaultive duos like Ruins, Hella, or Lightning Bolt. Judging by this and their previous full-length, Conference of the Birds, OM releases straddle a format between album and EP. Pilgimage lasts about half an hour, so OM are either careful composers or ruthless editors...probably both. Each of the four tracks serves a purpose and resides comfortably in the running order. We’ll not hear any complaints about “value for money” because such materialistic concerns have no place in OM’s realm. This particular saucerful of secrets opens with the title track (also reprised in shortened form to close the album), a hushed affair, with delicately plucked bass and muffled tom work, sounding like Waters and Mason jamming circa 1969. Cicernos’s whispered vocals work a stream of consciousness vibe ("Witness from mind and psychic sheath a guardian sun restrains the world projection") as do the riffs, which have an idiosyncratic internal logic that encourages acceptance instead of analysis. “Pilgrimage” fades to make way for the distorted churn of “Unitive Knowledge of the Godhead.” This startling transition, bridged by a mellow passage that plays with a few notes from the previous track, is my favourite moment on the album. Having delivered a quiet one and a loud one, “Bhimas’ Theme” mixes the two dynamics, making for perhaps the most approachable, deliberately structured piece on Pilgrimage. While nothing on the album quite matches the superb and memorable “At Giza” from Conference of the Birds, the overall flow and variety of the tracks shows some significant progression, making OM’s third major release a satisfying listening experience. Pilgrimage is a testament to their staunch focus. If they keep widening their field of vision, OM should be able to keep at this for years to come.

Cortez the Killer—s/t EP (self-released)
Here’s more proof that the Vancouver music scene has entered a golden era. Though they take their name from Neil Young’s slow-burning epic, Cortez the Killer’s own music is a turbulent headrush more akin to Botch, The Refused, or forefathers Fugazi and Squirrel Bait. This fiery quintet shares a member with A Ghost to Kill Again, whose debut album knocked me on my ass earlier this year. The two bands also share a fanaticism for unpredictable action rock, although Cortez favour a harder punk rock edge compared to AGTKA’s shameless prog tendencies. Where AGTKA are sweeping and emotional, Cortez are taut and pissed off on this five-song EP. Each track writhes with rapid-fire lyrics—cryptic yet clearly imaginative political tirades whose stream-of-consciousness presentation in the booklet perfectly reflects their delivery. “Cocktails Mixed by Molotov” reimagines WWII’s Eastern Front as a hockey game while “East Vancouver Heart Attack” laments those being swept aside in the name of civic development (featuring the genius line “we all desire change but have none to spare”). Musically, flurries of hepped-up Iron Maiden licks and double bass (drummer Benjie Nesdoly turns in a heroic performance) pepper the spasmodic song structures—structures that still leave room for hooks in the form of gang-shout choruses and other vocal lines that get catchier with every listen. The songs seethe with debut-release excitement, and once Cortez the Killer catch their breath and hit the studio again it’ll be interesting to hear them stretch out across a full-length release.