Memorial

April 5th, 1994 - Kurt Cobain dies of a self-inflicted shot gun blast.

April 5th, 2002 - Layne Staley dies of a heroin overdose.

With today marking the 16th and 8th anniversaries of the deaths of two of my favorite rock stars ever, I'm half expecting to hear that Chris Cornell got hit by a bus.

Over-Gain Optimal Death - Over-Gain Optimal Death

Band: Over-Gain Optimal Death
Album: Over-Gain Optimal Death
Label: Self-Released
Year: 2009
Rating: 75%

Tracklist:
1. Overgain
2. Gov't
3. Aurora
4. R.I.P.

Japanese space freakout gurus Acid Mothers Temple & The Melting Paraiso U.F.O. checked into town last Saturday for the first stop on their 2010 North American tour. They come here every year around late March or early April, although some tragedy has befallen my fellow astral travellers and I every time the Temple have been here in the last three years which has prevented us from catching their galactic live show. The most serious issue was a fuzz-induced freakout last year that literally floored my friend and forced us to leave during the set of the opener, Kinski. What the experience did teach me however was that the legendary psych collective has impeccable taste in choosing opening bands that set the tone for the sonic terror to come, but still leave their own indelible mark on the proceedings.

Our trip to catch Acid Mothers Temple was finally successful this time, but for me, the best part of the night was catching the opener, Pasadena's perfectly-named Over-Gain Optimal Death (OGOD, if that's easier). In the crowd were about a dozen local beardos, a few astonished looking east van hipsters, and a long haired dude that engaged me in a conversation about Kreator. Certainly no more than 30 people were in attendance, but every single person was digging the decimating cosmic racket these terrorists ground into our eardrums. They were an awesome sight, a stone-serious rhythm section that was compellingly intense and completely adverse to any acknowledgment of the crowd whatsoever backing a leather-jacketed wild man on guitar. A shirtless and bald drummer battered his kit with primal ferocity both within and around the beat, never failing to sustain the band's titanic momentum. The raven-haired girl on bass was tall and imposing, doggedly paying the same riffs over and over again on her battered Fender, as if to stop would mean the end of the world. The singer, a short and wiry creature, looked like he had stepped right out of the 70's, sporting biker boots, nuthugger bellbottoms, a greasy FUBAR mane, and a leather jacket with fucking TASSELS on the sleeves. He flailed violently as he bashed and mangled the strings of his weapon, dancing across all manner of pedals and sound manipulators in an effort to coax the most intense sonic incineration out of it that anyone had ever heard. Almost no singing took place, although the guitarist did shout some heavily garbled sounds through an array of warping devices. Everything was cranked several decibels past the pain threshold, and the whole way through all I could think to myself was, "YES, THIS IS ROCK AND ROLL." Half an hour later, they spoke not a word, and simply walked offstage. Enamored, I was dismayed to find that no wax yet exists with these guys' name gracing it, although they have self-released a couple CD's. After hearing one that my friend bought, I'm even more convinced. Seriously, if Acid Mother's Temple is coming to your town, go catch this smoking double bill and be treated to some of the most cosmic psych-thrash speed freak rock n roll you'll ever hear. Check Over-Grain Optimal Death out at OGOD's myspace, and give 'em some love when they're in your town.

"Overgain" kicks off the band's self-titled album with a barn-burner of a riff and launches into a garage rock boogie that constanty threatens to trip over itself. Brain-damaged Comets On Fire electric destruction guitar and piercing feedback weave in and out as the drummer pounds out scattershot Keith Moonisms over a ferocious bassline. The band basically keeps the energy level on full for the next thirty-three minutes; they are nothing if not determined to batter you with sensory overload. This album never lets up. The formula that OGOD uses is simple: Take one heavily fuzzed riff soaked in bongwater, play guitar solo after guitar solo over it with a suburban guitar shop's worth of effects slathered all over them in as many different combinations as possible, repeat as many times as necessary. It's not unusual for OGOD to grind a riff into the ground for 6 or 7 minutes at a time, maybe longer. But for the listener, it is less a test of endurance than an initiation. Get inside their trip, and you won't be counting minutes anymore, you'll just Be.

The best song, "Aurora" takes a planet-sized Electric Wizard riff and has the drummer pound brutal tom fills over top of it for 15 minutes straight while the guitarist blasts off to the Oort Cloud. It's the best song because a) it has the heaviest riff and b) because its the longest. If those don't seem like good reasons to like this song, then it's pretty clear this is not for you. To be fair, some people might complain that they do have a tendency to ride a riff way too long, but that's kinda the point with this stuff. These guys jam, and they do it well. The record is essentially a primer for their explosive live show anyways, and in that regard it gives a pretty good account of itself. Over-Gain Optimal Death do not hold my attention on record as well as a somewhat more seasoned psych-jam band like Earthless, who seem to have spent a little more time crafting their extended jams, shifting dynamics and adding different sections to keep things interesting. What this band lacks in songcraft, they make up for in sheer sonic fury, blazing way past the point of no return until the amps are smoking and the crowds have either left or been stricken with tinnitus. And if that sounds awesome to you, then welcome aboard.

Blarney

Man, if you're not going to listen to Thin Lizzy today, then you have a serious imbalance in your rock diet. Everybody needs some good time rock 'n' roll once in a while, so what better way to celebrate St. Patty's Day?

Here's a little something to getcha started. You'll be singing into your green beer and air-guitaring to some harmonized twin leads in no time. You really can't go wrong with any of their mid 70's albums, but here's a little playlist of my own personal favs.

Whiskey In The Jar
The Rocker
Killer Without A Cause
Massacre
Rosalie
Jailbreak
Warrior
The Boys Are Back In Town
Cowboy Song
Emerald
Opium Trail
Johnny The Fox Meets Jimmy The Weed
Do Anything You Want To
Waiting For An Alabi
Roisin Dubh (Black Rose): A Rock Legend

Or you can always just throw on Live & Dangerous, which everyone on earth should own a copy of.

High On Fire - Snakes For The Divine

Band: High On Fire
Album: Snakes For The Divine
Label: E1
Year: 2010
Rating: 82%

Tracklist:
1. Snakes For The Divine
2. Frost Hammer
3. Bastard Samurai
4. Ghost Neck
5. The Path
6. Fire, Blood & Plague
7. How Dark We Pray
8. Holy Flames Of The Fire Spitter

In High On Fire's world, there is no such thing as progress. The band's primordial assault has remained obstinately unchanged through lineup changes, producer turnover, label swaps and an ever-evolving heavy music landscape. This is not to say that all of their music sounds the same however. Their Jurassic thud has slowly evolved in terms of speed and compositional complexity, steadily growing more 'metal' with each release, but at its core, the music retains the same suffocating obsession with raw power and sheer heaviness that it always had. Each of their previous four albums have built upon what has come before, but hearing Snakes For The Divine for the first time, no one could doubt that this is the same Oakland power trio that shook the earth on 2000's mighty The Art Of Self-Defense.
This is a good thing, because very few bands are capable of producing the kind of noise that High On Fire do; furious battle metal that rages across the landscape like a pack of charging elephants. Midtempo stoner-boogie bands and mathy post-thrash metal bands are a dime a dozen these days, but few musicians have had the good sense and chops to find the sweet spot between Metallica's Kill 'em All, Celtic Frost's To Mega Therion and Black Sabbath's Sabotage. Never sacrificing their primal essence in favor of showing off their considerable chops, High On Fire do what they do better than anyone this side of Motörhead, and here's hoping they keep doing it for years to come.

To be honest, 2007's Death Is This Communion is a mighty tough act to follow. Produced by the legendary Jack Endino, the record was a culmination of everything that High on Fire had striven to perfect. It had a fantastic collection of songs, and managed to tie them all together in such a way that the whole album moved like a multi-headed riff colossus, single minded in its determination to lay waste to the world. Acoustic interludes and Pike's best vocal performances yet made the record an engaging listen that was heavy but varied in texture and mood and easily accessible to both heavy rock and metal fans. A classic heavy metal album by any measure, it made for the most dynamic release of their career.

Snakes For The Divine doesn't quite live up to its predecessor. For starters, it does away with many of the interesting stylistic detours that made Death Is This Communion such a listenable record. It rewarded patience and attention, and encouraged active listening. This album is much more straight forward, basically grabbing hold and scorching along with the heaviness on full the entire 46 minutes. Personally, I believe that High On Fire have the ability to vary their tempo and drum and vocal patterns enough to complement Pike's never-ending supply of riffs and remain engaging throughout, but even the best metal risks exhausting the listener and turning to a destructive blur when left to rage at top intensity for too long.

The production may also be a point of contention for some long-time fans. Instead of sticking with Endino, High On Fire turned to Greg Fidelman, fresh off of producing Slayer's World Painted Blood. This was maybe not the best choice. Slayer has always been addicted to speed, and their chaotic frenzy is often pushed too far for too long at the expense of a truly crushing riff. I listened to 'Angel of Death' on half-speed one time and it just made me wish those guys would just try some Quaaludes or something. Fidelman does do a good job giving High on Fire the sharpest and cleanest production job they've ever had. This serves the band well on more complex pieces like the title track, which seems to sprout viciously serrated riffs the way a hydra grows heads. On hard-charging thrasher 'Fire, Flood & Plague,' Kensel's thunderous pummeling double-bass work has more punch than ever before. Personally however, I preferred the slightly muddier and beefier sound that Endino brought to the band. As technically proficient as they have become, sludge will always be their strongest suit. I can't help but think that a meaty dirge like Snakes highlight 'Bastard Samurai' would have sounded even more crushing with Endino working the boards. Structurally it is actually a better song than Death's equivalent self-titled track. The former exchanges the latter’s torpid grind for a powerful feel of tension and release which results in explosive payoffs and bloodthirsty growls from Pike. Ultimately, your opinion of where this album sits in the High On Fire canon will depend entirely on which side of the fence you sit on.

The performances of all three musicians are masterful, each a true virtuoso on his instrument. High On Fire understands that they don't need to play circles around a riff just to strut their stuff, but that doesn't stop them from dropping some righteous shredding when the occasion demands it. On the wickedly destructive 8-minute war metal gorefest, "How Dark We Prey," they build an enormous wall of droning riffage and get the fuck of its way as it lays waste to everything in its path. Soon after however, they cut this lumbering beast into bloody ribbons by laying down some jaw-droppingly awesome breaks and jacking up the intensity. Matt Pike's savage guitar riffs and Des Kensell's bludgeoning drum assault are more focused and precise than ever before; despite the cleaner sound and more agile compositions, High On Fire have lost none of their elemental ferocity. Jeff Matz, formerly of Zeke, returns for his second album with the band and holds down the low end with authority. His dirty, overdriven tone will liquefy solid tissue at the proper volume.

Pike's vocals here are more prominent in the mix than ever before, and his performance shows how far he has really come in the last decade as a front man. From the hoarse croak he used on the first two records to the wizened bellow that commands legions of banging heads now, his growth has a vocalist been one of the most satisfying aspects of High On Fire's career. The lyrics are the same D&D battle fantasies that Pike has always preferred, and if you're anything like me, you'll think that they're totally awesome (Highlights: SON OF A BITCH WILL BLEED A WHILE!!!" & "FROST HAMMER! FROST HAMMER! FROST HAMMER! FROST HAMMEEEEEEEEER!!!") Pike's voice has also been treated in the studio more than ever before. "Frost Hammer" even features brief snatches of clean harmonized vocal lines which will appeal to fans of Mastodon's Crack The Skye.

If this is your first experience with this band, it will serve as a fine example of what they are all about. Suffice it to say, if you like what Snakes For The Divine has to offer, you can't go wrong by seeking out any of their other releases. For over a decade now this band has remained at the top of its game, and Snakes For The Divine gives every indication that these guys will be slaying ogres and crushing skulls for many battles to come.

Annual

It's my birthday today! It would make me really happy if you (whoever you are, reading this) would stop doing whatever you are doing at this exact moment in time and watch the Replacements right now.

Otherwise, today I am 24, and officially am doing nothing with my life, other than drinking, smoking, going to school, listening to awesome music and writing about it. I want to get paid for this. If I did, I'd be more consistent about it.

GO CANADA GO!!!

In honour of that big fuckin' track meet that's happening in my goddamn city right now, I give you an Olympics of Heavy, wherein the winners of specific musical topics are arbitrarily chosen by me! Let's begin.

Longest Doom Metal Song:
Gold - Japan (Corrupted, "Llenandose de Gusanos," 2 Hours, 3 Minutes, 51 Seconds)
Silver - Japan (Boris, "Absolutego," 1 Hour, 5 Minutes, 35 Seconds)
Bronze - United States (Sleep, "Dopesmoker," 1 Hour, 3 Minutes, 32 Seconds)

Shortest Grindcore Song:
Gold - United Kingdom (Napalm Death, "You Suffer, But Why?" 1.2 Seconds)
Silver - United States (Brutal Truth, "Collateral Damage" 1.4 Seconds)
Bronze - United Kingdom (Napalm Death, "Your Achievement" 7.1 Seconds)

Freakiest Space Oddessey
Gold - Germany (Cluster - Cluster '71)
Silver - United Kingdom (Hawkwind - Space Ritual)
Bronze - Japan (Acid Mothers Temple - IAO Chant From The Cosmic Inferno)

Proof That We Are Not Alone
Gold - Germany (Tangerine Dream - Zeit)
Silver - United Kingdom (The Orb - Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld)
Bronze - Canada (Voivod - Killing Technology)

Best Face Paint
Gold - United States (KISS)
Silver - Denmark (Mercyful Fate/King Diamond)
Bronze - Norway (Immortal)

Freakiest Stage Tricks
Gold - Canada (Thor - Bending steel bars with teeth)
Silver - Norway (Mayhem/Dead - Huffing bird carcass fumes)
Bronze - United States (Alice Cooper - Electrocution)

Best Prog Rock Suite
Gold - United Kingdom (Pink Floyd, "Echoes")
Silver - Germany (Ash Ra Tempel, "Amboss")
Bronze - Canada (Black Mountain, "Bright Lights")

Nerdiest Concept Album
Gold - United States (C Average, "C Average")
Silver - United Kingdom (Caravan, "In The Land Of Grey And Pink")
Bronze - Germany (German Oak, "German Oak")

Best Album Title
Gold - Sweden (Refused, "The Shape Of Punk To Come")
Silver - Germany (Helloween, "Pink Bubbles Go Ape")
Bronze - United States (Nation Of Ulysses, "A 13 Point Plan For The Destruction Of America")

Most Massive Drums
Gold - Japan (The Boredoms, "Super Æ")
Silver - Brazil (Sepultura, "Roots")
Bronze - United States (The Liars, "Drum's Not Dead")

Strangest Album Packaging
Gold - United Kingdom (Cathedral, "The Garden Of Unearthly Delights," scratch n' sniff CD that smells like apples!)
Silver - United States (Tool, "10,000 Days," includes picture book and 3D glasses)
Bronze - United Kingdom (Rod Stewart, "Play It Again Rod," record jacket shaped like a glass of scotch with Stewart's head inside)

Cluster - Cluster '71

Band: Cluster
Album: Cluster '71
Label: Phillips
Year: 1971
Rating: 76%

Tracklist:

Side 1
15:33
7:38

Side 2
21:17

The record begins with a faint hum and what sounds like a distant radar pulse. Skeletal synths pan across the celestial dome as the hum thickens into an undulating drone. The pulses, regular at first, drift in and out of time, rising and falling in intensity as more synths weave in and out of the mix. The piece, quiet and distant at first, gradually grows in volume and power, and becomes increasingly unsettling as what sounds like an analogue keyboard wafts through the air like cosmic nebulae pierced by a hyper driven space vessel. Whooshing cosmic drones emerge ever-present and creeping bleeps sweep across the viewport. Synthetic feedback stabs and heavy distorted phase effects permeate this disorienting landscape, chilling the listener, before a high echoing synth siren flashes across the event horizon. A hypnotic pulse emerges, and is soon buried by flashing phasers and distantly echoing reverb as filtered sounds float through the mix. Suddenly, a rapid, almost frantic bass pulse that wouldn't sound out of place on a modern house track emerges through the void, propelling the piece finally into oblivion. If any record can better re-create the awesome stillness of intergalactic space travel, I have never heard it.

Cluster's first album after the departure of former member Conrad Schnitzler is a landmark in kosmische music. remaining members Dieter Moebius and Hans-Joachim Roedelius marked the rebirth of the band by switching out their old moniker, Kluster, for the new one, spelled with a 'C'. Obsessed with the sensations of weightlessness and propulsion, emptiness and ether, Cluster on this recording took space rock much further than Hawkwind or Pink Floyd ever imagined it could go. Despite the vast quantities of hallucinogenic drugs and sonic explorations their contemporaries engaged upon, Cluster's excursions lacked any connection to rock's organic blues roots whatsoever. There is no rock here, no solid matter. Only the primal void of space remains. In stepping outside time completely and seemingly rejecting all acoustic instruments in favor of synthetic or treated ones, Cluster traveled beyond the Oort Cloud and completely severed any ties to the earthbound roots of their Anglo-American contemporaries. I'd have to consult some quantum physicists on this, but I would bet that the theoretical continuum of space and time found its nexus somewhere within the grooves of this record.

Finding their genesis in the thriving late '60's German art community, Cluster and many of their contemporaries looked to the limitless possibilities of space and the untapped potential of electronic composition to transcend inherited guilt complex of German society. What traditional instruments do appear here have all been treated to the point where they are no longer recognizable as such. There are antecedents to what Cluster was doing here: like most experimental musicians, they were heavily indebted to the works of Karlheinz Stockhausen and other post modern composers. However, there is as much aggressively non-musical noise here as there is tutored study. This is the sound of phenomenally intelligent and creative kids playing with new toys, just trying to see what sounds they could get out of them. Most great musicians operate this way.

The three pieces here are named simply according to their lengths. Although the specific sounds of each piece are different, evoking different textures and sensations, the overall mood is similar throughout. A vastness engulfs these pieces, as if their sounds could travel forever through the distant reaches of space. Although none of them have what could realistically be described as a tempo, there is a definite rhythmic sense present. Synth lines and drones intersect with one another, sometimes irregularly, sometimes very deliberately. The contradictory feeling of movement will remaining perfectly still applies unmistakably to space travel. The enormity of the universe can hardly by grasped by us insignificant beings, and with our primitive propulsion systems, we might as will be completely immobile. We are merely receivers absorbing the transmission, echoing Cluster's concentric sonic radiation as it expands beyond the furthest limits of our universe.

Too harsh and abrasive to properly be labeled ambient, Cluster's interstellar travel on Cluster '71 and other early 70's proto-electronic albums would later influence three generations (and counting) of electronic and ambient innovators to explore the sonic limits of man-made machines in hopes of creating the most fantastic sonic worlds ever heard by human ears. Of course, it is their far gentler and more traditionally song-oriented masterpiece of electronic melody, Zuckerzeit, which is most frequently cited alongside the work of such other Krautrock cosmonauts as Popol Vuh and Tangerine Dream. But for fans of cosmic, experimental, and acid-damaged psychedelic space rock, this album will be of great interest. Some of these synthetic distortion tones are downright gnarly, and the whole vibe here is frightening, even if no indication is ever given as to how or why one is to react in such a way. Listen closely and without distraction, and let the unexpected turns and sounds move you across the galaxy. So long as you can buy my theory that the exploratory wonder and inexorable power of rock can be captured by instruments besides the guitar and drums, you'll have a hell of a trip. Just remember to bring your headphones.

Etiquette

In my years of tinnitus-courting eardrum abuse I've been to a good number of metal concerts, and I've often been tempted to write down an actual guide to mosh pit etiquette. Too many kids going to metal shows for the first time have no clue how to do this, and there are rules for the general safety and enjoyment of everyone present that should be observed.

How to mosh:
1. Most importantly: SAFETY FIRST! If someone falls, help them up. Don't hit anyone who is not on their feet. No one wants to be that guy that died in a mosh pit at a slayer concert... actually that's a bad example.
2. NEVER throw the elbows. It's a dick move.
3. Hit other moshers with your shoulders as hard as you want, so long as they are in the act of moshing. Do not go charging into people on the edge of the mosh pit, unless...
4. They are standing on the edge of the mosh pit and are pushing people who have not hit them first. This is a dick move also and it is perfectly appropriate to pull these little bitches into the melee.
5. Do not stand on the outside edge of the pit and expect to remain unscathed. You will be hit by flying bodies, just push back and deal with it.
6. NO SKANKING within a 3 mile radius of anywhere where anyone is playing metal. Ska is the antitheses of Metal.
7. Don't kick or throw punches. That shit might fly at a hardcore show, but come on... hardcore is fucking stupid.
8.. Girls in the mosh pit should expect the same treatment from other moshers as guys. No exceptions.


When to mosh:
1. If there is an acoustic instrument playing at any time, it is NEVER appropriate to mosh. Unplugged sets are totally not metal.
2. If double kick drums are being used at any time, it is ALWAYS appropriate to mosh. Nothing is more metal than double kicks.
3. Observe the three-fifths compromise: If more than three fifths of the band members have hair longer than their shoulders, it is appropriate to mosh. Female band members are exempt from this rule, as are anyone with dreads, mowhawks, liberty spikes or a shaved head, and none of these shall be counted in the forming of the longhair-to-square ratio.
4. If vocals are being growled (as opposed to screamed) it is appropriate to mosh.
5. Moshing stops between songs.
6. When the fucking metal singer tells you to fuck some shit up, do it.
7. You may momentarily stop moshing to furiously headbang or play air guitar or drums if one of the following things are played:
a) a finger-tapping guitar solo,
b) a bass solo,
c) an unaccompanied double kick barrage, or
d) a guitar riff that sounds like murder.


Appropriate Attire:
1. Leather and metal spikes have been an integral part of metal's wardrobe since Judas Priest was gigging around Birmingham. Up to two wrist bands with spikes and up to three spiked belts around the waist are acceptable, but anymore spikes than that is an unnecessary hazard in the mosh pit. A wrist band shouldn't exceed 3 inches in width, anymore than that and it 'aint a wristband anymore.
2. Medieval armour is awesome and totally metal, but you should never come to a show like that and expect to mosh.
3. NEVER take your shirt off. That's just gross.
4. Jeans and a black T-shirt are always acceptable. Bonus points for wearing a hilarious or obscure band T-shirt.
5. Makeup or corpsepaint is acceptable, but just remember that you look ridiculous.

Live by this code and the headbangers of the world shall dance in Valhalla and drink the blood of posers.