Richard Pinhas—Tikkun and Welcome in the Void (Cuneiform)

It’s release day for these two albums (already in my possession through the magic of mail order). Both are demanding listens worthy of your attention. Richard Pinhas is a French guitarist/synthesizer guru probably best known for Heldon, who released seven albums in the ’70s, each one searching for the ideal blend of man and machine…and often finding it. He’s continued along the same ferociously experimental path, and has been incredibly busy lately, touring and recording with kindred spirits everywhere. In fact, he almost played down the street at the Fox Cabaret last summer, but the show fell through. (The Fox wasn’t quite ready to reopen, unfortunately, but it’s too bad the Western Front or VIVO didn’t step in, as either of those would have been an ideal venue.) These two new albums, both on Cuneiform, document two of Pinhas’s latest collaborations. Together they paint an expansive, vivid portrait of his globetrotting, playing-in-the-moment modus operandi.

Tikkun pairs Pinhas with Oren Ambarchi, a multi-instrumentalist who has worked with SUNN O))) amongst many others. It’s a CD/DVD set, with the audio portion consisting of three tracks over 69 minutes. The DVD captures a further 41 minutes of duo madness on stage in Paris. The liner notes are rather cryptic, but from what I can decipher, the CD includes contributions from Joe Talia (track 1, I think), Merzbow, Duncan Pinhas and Eric Borelva (tracks 2 and 3, I think). Track 1, “Washington, D.C. – T4V1,” has some of the relentless, industrial qualities of Heldon, with its sequenced foundation. The guitars don’t waste any time; they raise a storm almost immediately. Ecstatic noise rains down while the drummer bides his time, finally crashing in after about 10 minutes. By now the trio have almost obliterated the sequencer’s pulse as the chaos climaxes. The final 15 minutes see the storm dissipate—the guitars become more spectral, the drums die down to the ticking of the ride cymbal, creating an almost unashamedly beautiful denouement. The feedback that returns just before the end carries a definite threat, though. The next two tracks are little more static. Ambarchi (I believe) lays down some solid beats on “Toyko – T4V2” overtop a subtly shifting drone of guitar, loops and electronic sorcery. Eerie insectoid sounds dominate the opening of the final track before it all rushes headlong into a vortex of transmissions from beyond the cosmos. Overall, these dense pieces are not for the timid or overanxious. It’s music you need to sink into with a generous spirit; it rewards careful listening.

Welcome in the Void is a strange title. In my mind I always correct it to "Welcome to the Void". But this isn’t about what I want, so Welcome in the Void it is. It sounds inclusive and reassuring: “(We are all) Welcome in the Void” is one interpretation. The album fills that void with 68 minutes of free-flowing music from Pinhas and Ruins drummer Yoshida Tatsuya. There are two tracks. Part One is a 4-minute preview or overture for Part Two, which sprawls forth over 64 minutes, which may be a new milestone in my music collection (it outlasts Dopesmoker, but just barely). Pinhas’s tracks of “stereo loop guitar” and “loop stereo guitar” create almost choral melodies. The way sounds emerge and overlap reminds me of No Pussyfooting at times. Yoshida’s drumming brings out the wild side of the music—pushing and pulling with respect to tempo, or appearing in boisterous, freeform bursts—yet he gives Pinhas a lot of space. He even drops out for the final eight minutes of Part Two to let the guitarist bring the track to a soaring conclusion himself. Compared to Tikkun, Welcome in the Void is the easier listen—being strictly a duo recording with a distinct division of instruments, it’s not so much of a challenge to pick out what’s going on—and right now it’s my favourite of the two. Admittedly, this is just after a couple of listens, and my second pass of Tikkun was far more rewarding than my first.

A Difficult 2013—Part Three

The Fierce and the Dead—Spooky Action (Bad Elephant)

I came to this British instrumental quartet by way of guitarist Matt Stevens, whose clever, loop-centric solo albums I got into last year. The Fierce and the Dead aren’t simply a showcase for Stevens; they sound like a proper band…they are a proper band, dammit. All four musicians hit it pretty hard. TFatD do their own thing within the prog-instrumental realm, exploiting a variety of dynamics and styles. Spooky Action kicks ass with a sly smile on its face. Sometimes they’re heavy and mathy; often they’re playful. Bits of King Crimson and Voivod (if I didn’t already know these guys are fans, Kevin Feazey’s bass tone would give it away) vie with Shadowy Men and Cuneiform stalwarts Forever Einstein to provide the crucial crunchy/catchy balance. There’s a post/alt/noise-rock streak running through it too. It’s an entertaining listen and one of the most immediately appealing albums I heard all year.

Teeth of the Sea—Master (Rocket)

 The eclectic ecstasy that is Master provided one of my more memorable first listens of 2013. The dancefloor machine beat of “Reaper” had me wondering what I’d gotten myself into. Who was this band that dared commit electronica in my household? Then the live drums arrived, along with a female chorale and a ripping guitar solo beneath a barrage of synths. What the almighty hell was this? “Reaper” is the album in microcosm, though—a cunning, shifting construct that dares you to follow it to an alien destination. By the end of side one, Teeth of the Sea become an evil metal band, grinding away on a slow-mo Slayeresque riff like some project on Southern Lord. Teeth of the Sea are free spirits; you can project anything on them and they’ll reflect it back in a jillion different wavelengths. A lot of bands get the “new Pink Floyd” tag, but I think Teeth of the Sea deserve it. They capture the eccentric essence of their nation, as a collective of grim fantasists leaving psychedelic murals on damp concrete.

Gorguts—Colored Sands (Season of Mist)

Speaking of Voivod, they weren’t the only legendary Quebec-based metal band to undergo renewal in 2013. Band leader Luc Lemay assembled an avant-death metal dream team for Gorguts’ first album in 12 years. On drums, John Longstreth of Origin. On guitar, Kevin Hufnagel of Dysrhythmia. And on bass, Hufnagel’s bandmate, Colin Marston. It takes a special breed to keep up with Lemay, and these guys are well up to the job. The production and mix show some nice touches, with Lemay’s vocals mixed way back and the drums sounding quite natural for a DM album. At over an hour in length, it does lose me a couple of times, but I’ve found that, given many months to absorb it all, the songs are well structured. Certain tracks, like “Le Toit du Monde” and “Ember’s Voice” do get stuck in my head. Brutal, disturbing and haunting, it delivered exactly what I’d hoped for—a masterclass in visionary death metal in a field that has become overrun with Gorguts disciples since their 1998 masterpiece Obscura.

Voivod—Target Earth (Century Media)

Voivod invented music, pretty much. I reference them probably more than any other band. Jarring rhythms and Piggy chords follow me everywhere I go. After two albums of material built from the tracks left behind by Piggy (RIP), Voivod return as a working band, featuring the original three members plus Daniel “Chewy” Mongrain on guitar. The results are, for the most part, glorious. Mongrain is immensely skilled, and his riffs, chord voicings and use of effects indicate that he’s clearly the man for the job. Away is there with his characteristic loose-limbed thrash beats—Abaddon by way of Bill Bruford. Blacky’s bass sound? Check. Snake, as always, excels at draping powerful, memorable melodies over a complex framework. But Target Earth is a complicated album, not just in the “difficult music” sense. It should have been my favourite album of the year. Instead I’m featuring in the middle of the pack. I’m not sure why. Some days I feel that it’s a couple tracks too long, and that certain songs, like “Kaleidos”, get bogged down in recycled, post-consumer Voivod motifs. On other occasions, I’ll have shuffle mode on and some previously dismissed Target Earth track will come on and completely redeem itself. Anyway, it’s good to have Voivod around still, and I hope with Chewy on board they’ll find new ways to be weird on the next album.

VHOL—s/t (Profound Lore)

VHOL is a Ludicra/YOB alliance, and it does not mess around. This debut album engages in sustained savagery at RSI-inducing tempos. I hear echoes of early Voivod in John Cobbett’s combustible and discordant guitar playing, not to mention the blower bass tone that is revealed on “Grace.” Vocalist Mike Scheidt’s always had a versatile voice, and here he alternates between a T. Warrior bark and his higher-register mode. He does an amazing job with such caustic material. When he launches into the first verse of “Insane with Faith” the urge to break stuff is strong. And he takes a soulful turn during a moody section of “Song Set to Wait Forever” that’s very impressive indeed. These longish songs (five to eight minutes) reach terminal velocity quite quickly; however, the plateaus of noise are dotted with moments of intrigue and excitement, like the smooth, Brian May-like lead breaks in “Plastic Shaman” or the phased drum roll that takes “Illuminate” over the top. It’s great being loud and fast, but I want personality above all, and VHOL certainly have it. Such well-developed material elevates them well above the black/crust mire and makes me hope that this album won’t be a one-shot deal.

Yes—March 20 at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre

I’ve been lucky enough to see most of the classic prog greats—Rush, Genesis, King Crimson, Jethro Tull, Van der Graaf Generator—but never Yes. When I was in high school they toured Western Canada for 90125, and while I liked that album, it sure wasn’t the Yes of the previous decade, and I snobbishly decided not to go.

I followed Yes casually for the next couple decades, occasionally checking in to little reward. The Anderson Bruford Wakeman Howe album was a real bummer, and I couldn’t bring myself to touch that Union enterprise. By the latter half of the '90s there was a whole new progressive rock scene to get into and the Yes soap opera just seemed silly and irrelevant. I had Spock’s Beard, the revitalized IQ, and mail-order labels like The Laser’s Edge and Cuneiform Records to keep me busy, not to mention a burgeoning international metal scene that to me represented the true spirit of “progressive”.

But now I’m old and nostalgic, and it seems that the keepers of the Yes legacy are too. When I had the chance to go to their show last week at the Queen E (thanks to the loveable Luke Meat), I did indeed seize it. The lineup of Howe/Squire/White/Downes and newish vocalist Jon Davison looked respectable, and the show’s format of presenting three classic albums in their entirety guaranteed a solid setlist, albeit an predictable one. The three albums in question, The Yes Album, Close to the Edge, and Going for the One, contain five or six of my favourite songs of all time. I was looking forward to hearing them in a live setting.

“I saw Yes in 1974, and it cost five bucks! And you know who opened for them? THE EAGLES!” You always get these people at the old-time prog shows. I reckon I was the only person in the joint who hadn’t seen them on the Relayer tour. The lights went down at 7:30, quelling the babbling of aging nerds. Stravinsky’s Firebird Suite came on the PA; the band’s traditional walk-on music. This was just like the real thing. Hold on, it was the real thing. That gnome/hippy figure was Steve Howe, and there was Chris Squire with requisite Rickenbacker. Geoff Downes stood among three banks of keyboards. They started with "Close to the Edge" and played the rest of the album in order. It was all bang-on, especially Davison whose voice soared, note perfect all the way. Sure he wasn’t their original vocalist, but his performance was a marvellous tribute to Jon Anderson’s melodic talents.

The stage production was Spartan—nothing in the way of a “set” and minimal backline. A screen behind the drum kit presented animated Roger Dean vistas, rainbow-hued butterflies, mysterious figures in yogic poses, and other suitably-Yeslike imagery. As well, the screen introduced each song with a title card (e.g. “Siberian Khatru” Close to the Edge (1972)).

Going for the One was next, with Steve Howe kicking out the jams on pedal steel guitar. He had a good style of shoving the wheeled contraption off stage whenever he was done with it. A roadie would put it back in place when it was time for another go. Davison’s performance on “Turn of the Century” was a highlight of the GftO segment and earned him a standing ovation. “Parallels” sounded creaky in comparison; probably the only instance where I thought the band could have pounded out a song with more authority. For “Awaken” Howe put on an odd-looking headstock-less guitar. Not to be outdone, Squire emerged with a triple-neck bass/guitar contraption. Hope he has a good supply of Robaxacet for this tour! He’s not a poser, our Chris—he did indeed play on all three necks during the course of the song.

After a 20-minute intermission and some words from Howe praising Vancouver for its more European feel compared to America (“cosmopolitan” was the word he used), they embarked on The Yes Album (1971). They slayed it too, especially on Howe’s solo spot, “The Clap”. Seeing him in action live confirmed his status as a guitar god. After the musical jigsaw that is “Perpetual Change” they left the stage briefly before resuming with “Roundabout” for an encore. This started two folks dancing and going nuts in the aisle at the front of the stage. Maybe the song had been their first dance song at their wedding, in which case I wish I'd been invited to that wedding. They were allowed to boogie down until the first chorus, when they were beaten to a pulp by security and tossed out (kidding).

It really was a great night. The only downside was going home and facing the wrath of Mrs. Mule, who’ll probably never forgive me for not bringing her along. Now that this is published, I’ll never speak of this again.

A Difficult 2013—Part Two

Black Wizard—Young Wisdom (self-released, LP on War on Music)

A deadly distillation of all things hairy, sweaty and rocking, Young Wisdom was so good that we reviewed it twice at Hellbound last year. If it weren’t for the extraordinary debut of a certain other, related band, this would have been the local release of 2013.

Shooting Guns—Brotherhood of the Ram (Pre-Rock)

These Saskatoon proponents of “Pilsner-fuelled mayhem” are flat out one of the coolest bands in Canada. Getting to see them do their thing again at the Cobalt last year was a real treat. I don’t think Brotherhood of the Ram was out at that point, but they did play large chunks of it, I’m pretty sure. Sticking to their instrumental ethic for this six-track riff jamboree is a smart move. Having some guy yell overtop this would only ruin the party. The LP has a distinct vibe on each side, starting with a trio of swirling heavy numbers, each as untamed and expansive as the prairie landscape, then settling down on side two for a couple of more placid tracks (the Shooting Guns sound collides with latter-day Earth to great effect on “Go Blind”) before “No Fans” shuts things down with a final blowout. It’s quite a ride.

Subrosa—More Constant Than the Gods (Profound Lore)

Subrosa are a little bit magical. They’re not a heavy metal band, but damn, they’re heavy. They’re bluesy while avoiding of the obvious scales and structures of the genre. Only loss and longing remain. They’re extremely Gothic, but sure as hell not “goth”. Their violin-laced sludge trudge has a stern beauty, sort of a tar-pit-as-reflecting pool effect. I hear them less as a metal band than the offspring of the heavier strain of ‘90s alt-rock. Imagine if PJ Harvey, post-Rid of Me had bought bigger amps after and got really into Melvins, or if Slint had found that interested female vocalist and, again, got really into Melvins. This is a much louder, more confident album than their previous album. at the same time, it’s more brave in its willingness to whisper-sing its most intimate thoughts.

Boards of Canada—Tomorrow’s Harvest (Warp)

I don’t know from IDM or whatever genre Boards of Canada inhabits. Everything sounds like prog to my ears anyway. Tomorrow’s Harvest, to me, is comfort music. It doesn’t try to “rock” and unlike a lot of the music I listen to, it’s not structured to shock the listener. Spooky and meticulously layered, each of the 17 tracks explores its little cluster of sounds for a tantalizingly brief time before moving on to the next track, the next idea. In lesser hands, this type of music tends to drone on for no reason than wanting to use the word “monolithic” in the press release. The discipline here is admirable, and just as there’s nothing very risky or jarring on Tomorrow’s Harvest, it also fit in with my ‘playing it safe’ ethos for 2013.

Kadavar—Abra Kadavar (Nuclear Blast)

Maybe they’re trying a little too hard, these Kadavar freaks, considering the live-off-the-floor recording, the blown-out vocals, the beards and the aged-looking cover photo. They’re like a new pair of pre-faded jeans. But damn, they fit and they feel good and it’s a classic look, right? Their genius is in avoiding being an obvious homage to any specific band. They weld together a bunch of blues and proto-metal styles to create a retro sound of their own, same as I think Graveyard have done. Stylistically, they draw from more sources than Graveyard, though, colouring songs like “Doomsday Machine” and “Dust” with strokes of arena-rock flash. Guitarist/vocalist Lupus Lindemann often sounds a bit like Klaus Meine; maybe that’s what does it. The production is minimal as possible, with a single guitar hard panned left, bass on the right, vocals straight up the middle. Nailing that perfect take must have been a nail-biting process, but the energy and excitement you can hear on Abra Kadavar was well worth it.

A Difficult 2013—Part One

As I said, I wasn't feeling acquisitive or inquisitive during 2013, so I'm doing 20 albums this time out. Here are the first five...

Necromonkey—Necroplex (Exergy Music)

I reviewed the madcap adventures of these Swedish boffins running wild in the analog wonderland of Rothhandle Studio here. Looks like they’ve been beavering away lately, so there’ll be more on Necromonkey here in 2014, mark my words.

Windhand—Soma (Relapse)

I love it when an album creeps up on you after making an underwhelming first impression. Soma started haunting me after the third or fourth listen. My initial thoughts were, “Well, anyone can do that.” That being super-slow, super-downtuned doom with riffs built from a handful of power chords. However, the atmosphere and, most importantly, the songs started to invade my consciousness. With Dorthia Cottrell’s distant voice providing a fragile human element wailing against the massed wattage burning through the mix, Windhand do have something special going on. To me, Soma’s combination of power and intrigue signals they’re on the verge of making a real masterpiece. I found myself wanting them to integrate their acoustic side more with the doom metal within the same song—on Soma, the lovely “Evergreen” stands on its own sandwiched between the heavy epics—but no doubt this would restrict what they could pull off live. There is one track that does pull everything Windhand does all together, and that is “Boleskine.” Half an hour in length, and equally loved and disparaged by various critics, it feels less like a song than a Beckett radio play (with guitar chords in place of dialogue), considering its feeling of dread and hopelessness and eventually an all-consuming anticipation for the end.

Earthless—From the Ages (Tee Pee)

It’s a long-running joke in my weekend basement band: whenever we decide to “just jam,” we have almost exactly 12 minutes worth of ideas and licks before the proceedings come to a sorry end. Earthless don’t have this problem—14 minutes is about the right length for them, and they have no trouble keeping the momentum up. In fact, on the title track of this all-instrumental rockfest, they smash through that time barrier and rock out for a full half hour. Eddie Glass can do incredible things on the guitar. It’s amazing that the rhythm section can keep up with him. It’s sort of a marriage between Robin Trower and electric Miles—it’s all about pushing it, prolonging the ecstatic moment and achieving hypnotic bliss. Earthless do it through Glass’s prolific (to say the least) soloing or the cavalcade of cycling riffs on “Violence of the Red Sea.”

Locrian—Return to Annihilation (Relapse)

Last year’s split with Horseback pointed me towards the new one from Chicago duo Locrian. Return to Annihilation is as bleak as its cover, a landscape scoured by washes of keening guitar, pulsing synths and screamed (and, I feel, expendable) vocals. It’s admirable in its scope and insistence in dragging you along for the ride. The 15-minute title suite is a tripartite wonder, traversing Agalloch-like dark folk, a Mellotron and Moog-dominated Italian horror soundtrack section, and a patient buildup towards a cacophonous finale. Although it’s tough to embrace something so intended to disturb, long passages and sometimes entire tracks are unequivocally enjoyable. I like the album more every time I hear it. Locrian’s alchemy of sounds bristles with invention—nobody else sounded like this in 2013.

Burning Ghats—Something Other Than Yourself

This local hardcore quartet weren’t messing around when they recorded this jarring and grim 12-inch debut. The record spins at 45 RPM; the music churns at a number of velocities, all of them pulverising. Reviewed in full here.

A Difficult 2013—Introduction

2013 was the year I gave up trying to keep up. I couldn’t muster the resources to do it: the time required to listen to everything, the money to acquire what might interest me, the enthusiasm to keep feeding the addiction. I pretty much sat back and monitored what everyone else was yabbering about, sampled a bit of it, and picked and chose a few things from that. Of course, there were a bunch of insta-buy albums from bands I know and trust, but overall my quest for new music became very casual last year.

My biggest concern was really how I should listen to music. This year my devotion to physical formats took a hit because we moved. The process of packing and stacking those bins and bins and bins and bins of CDs was demoralizing. There were a lot of records to deal with too, but doing so didn’t give them the nagging taint of obsolescence that the CDs acquired during the move. Now that we’re unpacked and my guilt over the hundreds of pounds of plastic discs and cases has subsided, I have to admit I still like them, and I do pull them out and listen to them, just as I’ll admit that they’re an absurd burden to store and transport. I'll entertain the idea that I shouldn’t keep choosing them as my main format for listening to music.

[Old-man rant about the return of vinyl deleted]

To start the best-of-2013 list-fest, here are some of the most memorable shows from last year. I can't complain about the quality and quantity of gigs making that sometimes-treacherous hop across the border. The scene in Vancouver is still fantastic, and I thank all the promoters plugging away to keep it strong. Some of the shows (Anathema, Diamond Head/Raven) could have been better attended. It's a bit maddening/saddening to watch a band trying to bring a Euro-style festival show to a half-full theatre. I'm hoping that it doesn't indicate that the scene's reached a saturation point. On the other hand, shows like Red Fang, Goblin and Saxon were absolutely packed, so it's swings and roundabouts in this crazy world of rock.

Favourite Concerts of 2013
1. Nick Cave—April 6, Vogue Theatre / Yob—April 6, Interurban Gallery
2. Neurosis—January 5, Showbox (Seattle)
3. Scott Kelly—March 9, Railway Club
4. Rush—July 26, Rogers Arena
5. Lee Ranaldo and the Dust—December 7, Biltmore
6. Anathema and Alcest—September 28, Rickshaw Theatre
7. Sub Rosa and Eight Bells—April 20, Astoria
8. Red Fang—November 10, Rickshaw Theatre
9. Goblin—October 17, Rickshaw Theatre
10. Kylesa, Blood Ceremony, White Hills, Lazer/Wulf—May 29, Electric Owl
11. Saxon—October 10, The Venue
12. Intronaut, Scale the Summit—June 6, Rickshaw Theatre
13. Shooting Guns—June 23, The Cobalt
14. Baroness—September 4, The Venue
15. Kadavar, Mothership—Sept. 20, Astoria
16. Diamond Head/Raven—October 9, Rickshaw Theatre

A Difficult 2012—Part Five

The fifth and last entry of this protracted series. I've already done my Best of 2013 list, but writing it up and fleshing it out will probably take me another full year again.

Ancestors—In Dreams and Time (Tee Pee)

It was apparent from their previous two albums that Ancestors were working up to something big. In Dreams and Time is definitely it. My god. Stretching across six immense, ever developing songs, it’s no less than an incandescent collision between Meddle and Times of Grace. The Californian quintet sounds utterly in command as they alternately soar and roar, riding on waves of fuzzed-out guitar, regal keyboards, and nuanced vocals. The piano-led “The Last Return” is sombre and ominous, while “On the Wind” features a jam that’d do Crazy Horse proud. The album culminates in the 19-minute “First Light,” a guitar-solo-powered drift across the heavens that saves their most triumphant riff for last. Nothing sounds forced or hurried; everything is delivered with patience, confident that they’re giving the listener the heaviest trip possible.

Woods of Ypres—Woods 5: Grey Skies and Electric Light (Earache)

This is a tough one. Woods 5 slipped out in the pall of David Gold’s sudden, shocking death late in 2011. I couldn’t deal with getting Earache’s authorized online leak—doing so would have felt ghoulish to me; it was too soon. Even after the CD appeared early in 2012, I could barely confront the pallid, orphaned thing. I wasn’t looking forward to hearing a dead man sing to me. Listening to it was not a relief. The songs are obsessed with death, failure, and contemplating one’s legacy, tinged with not quite enough grim humour to dilute the despondence. It doesn’t mess around with trivial issues. Reminiscent of Sentenced and Amorphis, it’s very Scandinavian in its mid-paced, melodic gravity. Relentless catchiness renders the whole thing almost intolerably bittersweet. A dismal epic like “Kiss My Ashes (Goodbye)” comes complete with a chorus perfect for a Wacken Fest singalong. Recorded as a duo, Gold and Joel Violette’s collaboration shows a real spark, especially on the album’s centrepiece, “Silver” (where losing at love equates to losing at life: “When you’re silver, you never come first / when you’re silver, the truth always hurts”). The messages are confused and contradictory at times. Gold’s ruminations on dark nights and bad times feel like they could be unravelled and decoded forever. It’s an album for mourning a major Canadian songwriting talent and for celebrating his last, and some of his best, work.

Astra—The Black Chord (Metal Blade/Rise Above)

This album blazes from start to finish, like a psychedelic meteor shower of blazing Mellotrons, intricate drum fills, and guitar solos. I’m 15 years old again, leafing through an Arthur C. Clarke paperback and listening to Fragile when “Heart of the Sunrise” comes on, flipping the switch that sends me in pursuit of similarly powerful, majestic music to this day. The Weirding, Astra’s first album, had a couple essential tracks and a pleasing retro sound, but The Black Chord outdoes it in material, production and overall energy. The music reaches an ecstatic state during the opening instrumental “Cocoon” and pretty much stays there for the rest of the record. As with the Ancestors album, the vocals are just as well executed as the music. Note the stunning buildup of melodies and sections leading from the verse to the chorus of the title track—that’s not a case of just throwing in some words because they had to be there; that’s some inspired songsmithery. Feel free to argue that contemporary music can’t be “progressive” if it sounds like something Eddie Offord recorded in 1972. To my ears, Astra have the best tones and the best tunes.

Horseback—Half Blood (Relapse)

I like that Horseback doesn’t do just one thing on Half Blood, or across its discography in general. The hypnotic, charred grooves on Half Blood constitute the user-friendly side of Horseback’s sound. Not to discount the other stuff that Jenks Miller puts out, because I do find even his most “bitter pill” material fascinating and inspiring, but this is my favourite Horseback style—Part Rust Never Sleeps, part Neu!, part Spiderland and part…I don’t know, The Shadowthrone. The conciseness and flow of this album reflects a discipline that is rare amongst others who work in this experimental terrain, making it a downright enjoyable experience. I reviewed it for Hellbound earlier this year.

Rush—Clockwork Angels (Anthem)

I decided not to assign numbered rankings to my list this time, but I have no problem telling you that Clockwork Angels is my number one album of 2012. After years of fairly pedestrian albums (including a couple that I didn’t bother to buy), this Rush fan needed a jolt to reconnect with his first major musical obsession. Rush just seemed ordinary in their advanced years; another band who had lost their way. The Beyond the Lighted Stage documentary provided a spark, but Clockwork Angels lit the flame. I was back on their side again. Had 2012 Rush changed, or had I changed? I think co-producer Nick Raskulinecz has helped them rediscover their innate “Rushness” and pushed them to write more interesting material. The result was Rush’s first true concept album (I’ve never counted 2112 as a concept LP) with a nearly flawless selection of well-sequenced songs. What I’ll remember most about Clockwork Angels was the excitement of listening to the album for the first few times. The experience matched almost exactly how I used to hear new Rush albums when I was younger—that feeling of discovery and enjoyable disorientation, the sense that I was being issued a challenge; that unravelling the twists and transitions, lyrics, riffs and drum fills would be the reward, and that there was never any danger that familiarity would lead to boredom. Writing this in late 2013, I still haven’t grown tired of Clockwork Angels.

Burning Ghats—Something Other Than Yourself (self-released)

I'd like to think the title is aimed at the oblivious majority—the people who never look up, lost in their handheld pseudo-realities. Burning Ghats are all about confrontation. If they don’t want to destroy the passer-by, they definitely want to give him/her a good wake-up slap. This Vancouver hardcore/metal/grind quartet have pinned me against the back wall many times with their incredible live show. Afterwards, I’m left with thoughts along the lines of “What the hell just hit me?” rather than “hmm, the tempo change in the second song was kind of cool” or other such musical musings. With a 7-inch already to their name, this EP-length 12-inch (mine's on gruesome grey vinyl) has now arrived. The record provokes the same gut reaction that their gigs do, but it's allowed me to appreciate the band on a new, deeper level. The recording is punishing, the songs are cathartic and harrowing. Recorded at The Hive with Jesse Gander and mastered by Brad Boatright at Audiosiege, they certainly worked with the right people. The ten tracks vary in length and tempo, but not in intensity. The tense, drum-led trudge of “Cold People” sets a forbidding mood before “Hexes” blows it all apart with blasting, double-kicked fury. There’s little time to breathe between the relentless series of tracks that follow. “Grief Ritual” blasts by in 21 seconds. “Carry the Head” shudders and howls with pure horror. “Gold Sores” oozes forth over six minutes, and closes the album with sheets of ominous, macabre sound via guest contributors Night Mother. As a purely indie release, Something Other Than Yourself stands impressively on its own, although fans of Baptists and the rest of Southern Lord’s hardcore roster need to hear this now.

Burning Ghats' record release show is Friday, November 22 at the Astoria in Vancouver.

A Difficult 2012—Part Four

Part four of five...

Diagonal—The Second Mechanism (Metal Blade/Rise Above)

The Second Mechanism recasts Diagonal as an almost entirely instrumental act that hammers away with the alacrity of Hatfield and the North or some berserk incarnation of Caravan. I loved their first album, but this is a much more confident effort. The five songs are muscular and rhythmically involved, with a bit of jazz that gives Diagonal their own, uh, angle in the old progressive game. Guitar and sax lead the way, often in unison, and the supple, surefooted rhythm section drives the machine along, aided by brilliantly earthy, no-BS recording. Compared to Änglagård, it's rather sparse—more of a live "blow session" than a studio-based audio puzzle. It really does sound like a shit-hot Peel Session. Hats off to whoever engineered this, sure, but the biggest credit must be given to a band that has their material down cold. Man, these guys can play.

Änglagård—Viljans Oga

Änglagård's long-awaited comeback is an onslaught of sophisticated progressive rock. Each of its four tracks is an intense workout, featuring themes that emerge, repeat, then fly apart in a thousand different directions. With guitars, bass, drums, mellotron and flute all intertwined, it's an orgiastic sonic tangle that almost defies easy consumption. Yet the sounds are so natural and inviting that you dive in without question. The only boner killer is the circusy passages in "Langtans Klocka"; otherwise this is dazzling from the start to finish. As someone who craves such music, I'd never complain that it's too much to take in; however, the process of making Viljans Oga evidently took its toll on the band, which started shedding members as the album neared completion.

Janel & Anthony—Where Is Home? (Cuneiform)

I reviewed this elegant and inventive guitar/cello collaboration here. I'm looking forward to hearing what they get up to next.

Admiral Sir Cloudesley Shovell—Don't Hear It...Fear It! (Metal Blade/Rise Above)

ASCS blast us back to 1974 with this burly blast of power trio rock, all flares, bomber jackets and sideburns. Perfect music for bombing up the M1 in one of these. Never mind the image, though—they deliver a well-worn musical style with power, grit, and not a little genius. Imagine Budgie stripped of the pastoral interludes and you've got the Shovell pretty much. Not that they don't have their eccentricities—there's that crazed-looking falcon (?) mascot of theirs and a bunch of songs that even at their most rockin' can still swing and turn down some interesting back alleys. "Devil's Island" and "Red Admiral Black Sunrise" are my kind of rock songs—speeding up, slowing down, getting loose, getting tight, and all built on a deep foundation of riff. And on "Scratchin' and Sniffin'" they've got the working stiff's anthem of the year. Put it on and I'll get the next round in.

Dysrhythmia—Test of Submission (Profound Lore)

This is Dysrhythmia's fiercest outing yet, the trio growing less and less polite as they develop and disperse their genius amongst other projects (Zevious, Krallice, Gorguts, etc.). I may praise a lot of "my" music for its retro authenticity, but there's nothing old-fashioned within Dysrhythmia's particular din. I can't trace anything further back than the early '90s in their approach. There are no solos or anything very groovy. If it resembles good ol' rock music at all, it does so for only a few seconds before lurching into something else. On the other hand, their songs are tight, especially by today's slovenly standards. Strong themes with logical linking passages let you draw a thread through each adrenalized track. I found that seeing them live and witnessing the visceral flair and concentration with which they perform this music is an essential to appreciating Dysrhthmia. They really are one of the finest bands pounding it out on the road today.

NWOBHM Sandwich

After a steady stream of great shows all summer, October has seen a crazed torrent of gigs so far. This week I took a deep breath and hit up three shows in three nights.

Raven and Diamond Head, October 8 at the Rickshaw Theatre

Locals Titans Eve opened up with a set of decent melodic death/thrash. A few twin lead passages caught my ear. They kept their stage time short, politely making way for the mighty Raven. Featuring the original core of brothers John and Mark Gallagher and drummer Joe Hasselvander, they opened up with mission statement "Take Control" and proceeded to play a wildly entertaining set. John sang through a headset mic, enabling him to mix it up with his brother. They scurried around like mad things, forming in effect a two-man mosh pit on stage. Their energy put the crowd to shame, really. Those in the audience dug it, though, even if they were largely unfamiliar with the band's crowd participation set pieces. Raven closed their set with an extended "Break the Chain" which incorporated a medley featuring bits of Black Sabbath, Cheap Trick, Budgie, AC/DC, more Sabbath, The Who, and Humble Pie. I thought for a moment that they were going for their own version of Gordon Lightfoot Sings Every Song Ever Written, but then the "Break the Chain" chorus returned and we bade the three sweaty geezers goodnight.

Who'd want to follow that? Diamond Head were a good deal tidier but no less eager to please, entering to a recording of "Mars, the Bringer of War" and proceeding to pull out all the key cuts off Lightning to the Nations. Seeing original guitarist Brian Tatler rip into those legendary riffs was pretty satisfying. The guitars sounded great and the bass punched through in a pleasing way. The only worry was that they were breaking in a new vocalist Chas West (ex-Jason Bonham Band) who had to be summoned at the last minute because of a death in regular singer Nick Tart's family. But despite a few missed cues and a few verses sung while hunched over his lyric sheets on the ground, he did a great job, and his Coverdale-like voice worked well with the material. A few gigs into this tour, and he'll be nailing it. By the time they encored with "Helpless," they were raging, and so was the crowd—one poor girl had a hard fall on the Rickshaw concrete and had to be helped away.

Anciients, Scale the Summit and TesseracT, October 9 at Tom Lee Music Hall

First show of the tour for this trio of proggy acts of varying heaviness. After two kiddie metal acts who were absurdly irrelevant to my interests (tacked onto the bill as the last show of their own tour), Anciients came on and set things right with riffs, riffs, and more riffs. Opening with "Raise the Sun" into "Overthrone," it was clear they've become a tour-hardened machine. "Giants," "Faith and Oath," and "Built to Die"were all pounded home with groove and authority. The acoustics in the hall were very nice. Kenneth Paul Cook, their main singer, was clear and audible throughout. The intricate flow of every song reminded me of the fact that Heart of Oak is one of the best albums I've heard this year—it's high time I reviewed that magnificent thing.

Scale the Summit are the nerdliest of the nerdly and I love them. I don't know what music school they all went to, but it apparently had a two-semester course entitled "From Cynic to Gordian Knot: Studies in Advanced Jazz Metal". The instrumental four-piece combine talent and taste across compositions that never become too indulgent, although every second of what's happening on stage is jaw-dropping. I've been enjoying their new album The Migration for a couple months now, and live they reproduce its songs exactly. It's a damn impressive feat, but part of me wishes they'd take it a step further and devote a bit of time to improvisation. It wouldn't have to be a lot of time. Watching them build something out of nothing over, say, five minutes would be really cool.

TesseracT were the lesser act. I can see why people are into them, but that kind of syncopated low-string pounding non-riffing is the same kind of thing that has sent me walking out of Meshuggah shows in the past. I checked them out for three songs and then went for a beer on Granville with my buddy Smash.

Saxon, October 10 at The Venue

Now for the final course in the feast of NWOBHM that I started on Tuesday. I arrived at 9:30 and saw most of Fozzy's set, which was too bad. It's been almost exactly 30 years since I last saw Saxon. While I thought about this and my old guy status, Gerald the Rattlehead walked by sporting a "Saxon Euro Tour '81" satin jacket that I assure you was not a reproduction. Put things a little more in perspective, I guess. Saxon took the stage about 10:40 and played for nearly two hours, peppering tracks from their new album, Sacrifice, amongst unassailable classics like "Power and the Glory," "Dallas 1 PM" and, most righteous of all, "The Eagle Has Landed." They're a bit craggy, the Saxon guys, but they are unstoppable. I was especially impressed by Nigel Glockler, who must be one of the best drummers to come out of the NWOBHM. Dude had some chops. Biff Byford looked to be in an especially good mood (probably looking forward to flying home the next morning), accepting the gift of a Canadian flag augmented with a Saxon logo, draping it between two cymbal stands on the drum kit for all to see. On "Denim and Leather," he invited everyone from the opening bands on stage to sing along—there were at least a dozen of them up there. It was a damn fine way to celebrate the end of the tour, and a great end to my metal show triple-header this week.

A Difficult 2012—Part Three

Part Three of Five…

Graveyard—Lights Out (Nuclear Blast)

 Seeing as Hisingen Blues was one of my top 5 albums of 2011, having Lights Out come out so soon afterwards made me wary. Could Graveyard equal Hisingen's energy and songcraft, or was Hsingen gonna be a one-off? Well, it's clear throughout Lights Out's tight 35 minutes that Graveyard still have the goods. It's not quite the throat-grabbing, gut-socking romp that the previous album was, but in a way it was smart of them to throttle back a tad on Lights Out. The rockers are good, sure, but it's the slower songs that stand out for me. It doesn't take long for the album to take it down either. The second track, "Slow Motion Countdown," is a stunner, with a classic verse/bridge/chorus structure that shows off singer Joakim Nilssen's incredible pipes. My other favourite is "The Suits, the Law and the Uniform," which is almost Australian in its mid-paced barroom rock drive. Lights Out is worthy in every way, and most assuredly establishes Graveyard as the class of the retro rock field.

Steve Moore—Light Echoes (Cuneiform)

Light Echoes is hardcore planetarium music that sucks you into an intense listening experience. As Moore says about the record, "'Songs’ are basically the last thing I want to hear when I see a guy bring a bunch of synthesizers on stage. I want to hear sounds. I want to hear what those synthesizers can do. Which brings us to this new album.” Moore's synths pulse, ripple and soar, overjoyed to play amongst themselves. No guitars or drums—the imprecise tools of savages—crash this party. The tracks are spontaneous and sprawling, yet tidy at their core. The single sequence or arpeggio that underpins each one almost dares you to let your attention drift. Themes develop gradually. Effects are tweaked to send everything waywards, like the warping that occurs during "Light Echoes II" (14:02). Listening to it is like watching footage of crystals form—the shapes reflect the entire light spectrum, and they grow with angular, flawless logic. I found it fascinating. Of everything I heard in 2012, I listened to Light Echoes the most closely.

Neurosis—Honor Found In Decay (Neurot)

Maybe the peaks of Through Silver in Blood and Times of Grace are behind them, but every new Neurosis album must be the subject of serious contemplation, if not celebration. Honor Found In Decay refines the approach they've taken on their last few albums, and provides some harrowingly beautiful passages. Listening to music is a passive experience by definition, but with Neurosis I feel like more of a passenger than with other bands. Songs rarely unfold in expected ways. Even the album as a whole takes a weird dip in the middle before coming back with two powerful tracks. As always, listening to the new Neurosis album is a process of acceptance leading to increasing admiration.

Napalm Death—Utilitarian (Century Media)

I keep expecting Napalm Death to burn themselves out with the relentless pace of their album releases, but Utilitarian finds them raging as hard as ever. It seems like they'll never slow down. While there's not much to distinguish it from their last few albums (except maybe an absence of guest "stars", save John Zorn's excellent spot on "Everyday Pox"), Utilitarian continues their streak of quality grind-infused songwriting. The horror that humans can wreak is pervasive and ever-worsening, so they certainly have no end of stuff they can write about, anyway. There's a couple good fistfuls of excellent tracks, capped by "The Wolf I Feed," which is a rabidly catchy rock 'n' roll song.

UFOmammut—Oro: Opus Primum (Neurot)

Italian doom trio UFOmammut followed up the one-track album EVE (my top album of 2010) by making something even more colossal: two albums following the EVE format, released months apart. This first opus, Opus Primum, unfolded like a doom metal "Echoes," taking almost 8 minutes to hit full volume, then unfolding over five tracks crossfaded for a continuous 51 minutes of music. Its five-note main theme/motif drifts in and out, and maybe they depend on it too much. I felt it became a little grating. As always, amazing (and heavy!) mind-expanding music that can only be faulted by perhaps being too logical a followup to EVE. Note: I would have liked to pair this review with the album's sequel, Oro: Opus Alter, but I haven't heard it yet.

The Night Watch—The Night Watch

If your band features the violin, it’ll probably rule my universe. Wetton-era King Crimson to Van der Graaf (without the Generator) to Curved Air, to High Tide to Mahavishnu Orchestra to the Dixie Dregs, Skyclad, My Dying Bride—all have crushed my puny head over the years. It’s an expressive, forceful instrument, and fits perfectly into the frequency range of rock. In the hands of the right player, violin can be just the thing to keep an overeager guitarist in check or provide melodic backup for a vocal line. The Night Watch has plenty of violin, and I like the Night Watch. This instrumental quartet from Ottawa has been together since 2008. On their debut album they play a blend of European folk, progressive rock and metal. If King Crimson were abducted and brainwashed by gypsies, this music might be the result. Their style also reminds me of Estradasphere and Vancouver’s own Pugs and Crows. Catchy themes and sprightly melodies mingle with solo passages and bursts of distortion and double-kick drumming. The sudden transitions between these elements are executed with great musicianship. The arrangements and song structures on “Don’t Creep” and the 15-minute adventure that is “War Whales” are clearly the result of some intense rehearsals. Nathanaël Larochette’s acoustic guitar playing, highlighted on the album's quiet sections, is recognizable from his Musk Ox project. The only thing I found myself wanting was a more prominent role for the electric guitar. For the most part it plays support to the violin rather than conversing with it. “In the Beginning,” the shortest track on the album, gets the balance right, but overall I think freeing up the guitar and giving it some improvising space alongside the violin would benefit their future material. But for now, this is a striking, adventurous debut that'll appeal to any forward-thinking music fan.

Necromonkey—Necroplex (Exergy Music)

Lame as it sounds to admit it, but I discovered Necromonkey the same way millions of children discovered Justin Bieber—through YouTube. See, I was looking for Utopia Synth demos when I came across a treasure trove of videos posted by a funny guy in Sweden who seemingly spent every spare moment hooking up various devices and uploading the results, like so…

This fellow turned out to be famous prog-rock drummer Mattias Olsson, formerly of Änglagård, proprietor of Roth Händle Studios, and one half of Necromonkey (David Lundberg completes the duo). What is Necromonkey? Well, it’s a band that, to me at least, embodies the same inventive spirit as those videos. With Roth Händle’s droolworthy collection of analog gear at their disposal, they conjure some exotic sounds and set them to suitably cunning beats and arrangements. While the spirit may be experimental, the tunes are solid and the craftsmanship is serious. The duo are expert manipulators of sound as well as skilled composers. Sometimes their music resembles bands that the general public knows and loves, like Air, Mogwai or Tortoise. Sometimes it displays progressive rock’s flair for the dramatic, as on “Every Dead Indian,” with its tense CAN beat that transitions to an eerie second half. Some of these tunes could work as movie themes, like “Small Rome”, where the wistful piano and Mellotron provide the perfect soundtrack to a point-of-view shot of a stroll through a park at dawn. The album takes a few detours, with interludes based around just one or two instruments, from a glitchy horn section to the delicate, barely adorned bass solo on “Empty Traps and Nightfall.” It’s their fearless drive to make new sounds with old devices that gives Necromonkey its edge. On Necroplex there’s beauty to be found, fun to be had, moods both disturbing and soothing, some odd-time rough-housing, and good old rocking—nearly every track on Necroplex springs a surprise on you.