You Will Get This Record...Then Pass The Time By Playing A Little Solitaire

Uncle Acid & The Deadbeats' Mind Control is as Sabbath sounding a record as you can get without actually being Black Sabbath. In fact, it is easily the best Black Sabbath record of the year by far, this included.

Take "Mt. Abraxas:" it starts gloomy and doom, total homage to the first eponymous Sabbath record, then it gallops into "After Forever" territory. before sludging back down. After that "Mind Crawler" kicks in, with it's heavy and simple riffs backed by a barely audible but completely essential piano run. It's the kind of song that makes me get up and dance like Michael Shannon covered in bugs. And that's just the first side of the first record. There's nothing terribly complicated in this music. It's derivative sure, but it takes everything that was great about Black Sabbath and just nails it. It's heavy and it stomps and it is a little bit scary. You feel like something evil (or maybe just interesting) is going to ooze out of the speakers. (Aside: googling "70s horror movie girls" brings up a surprising amount of lesbian activity).

Speaking of lesbians, here's something to do: check out their website, specifically the Garbage Dump section, where fans upload images that might or might not have anything to do with Uncle Acid. It's.....strange...that's about the gentlest I can say about it.

Happy story about this record: I had first read about them when Steven Hyden mentioned them in a write-up he did about the state of metal citing primarily Kylesa (awesome), Deafhaven (OK) and Queens Of The Stone Age (tired). In fact that article is where I also first read about ASG and Blood Ceremony and Kvelertak, but I digress. Thanks to Spotify I was able to hear this Uncle Acid record and I dug it much. Then one day it disappeared off Spotify, with some message saying it could no longer be available in the US. FRAK! A couple weeks later I went down to Som Records on 14th Street in DC and lo-and-behold there it was, a vinyl copy of Mind Control, sitting on the shelf. I gasped..really...I gasped and probably squealed with delight when I saw it. I grabbed it lest another metal head lurked somewhere ready to pounce. It cost over $40 but I didn't give a shit. This record rules. Listen here for confirmation!

Fourth Time (Not) The Charm

Blackfield is a kind of supergroup, featuring Steven Wilson of Porcupine Tree and three amazing solo records, and Israeli pop star Aviv Geffen. It's a fascinating collaboration: Wilson uses Blackfield as a opportunity to write shorter, more focused, almost-pop songs; Geffen uses Blackfield to explore new sonic terrain beyond what his solo career offers.

Their first three collaborations (along with a live set from New York City) are all great, especially Blackfield II. The fourth, simply titled Blackfield IV does not have the impact the others do. This could be due to Steven Wilson taking a backseat to Aviv Geffen, supporting this effort less as a collaborator and more as a guest, in addition to his normal production duties. The record also hosts a number of additional guest spots. Vincent Kavanaugh of Anathema, Brett Anderson of Suede, and Jonathan Donahue of Mercury Rev all appear to different effect.

All the songs are credited to Geffen, but the songs that are the best are those that are the real collaborations between Wilson and Geffen: album opener "Pills", "Sense Of Insanity," and "Jupiter," easily the best track on the record, all have what made the other Blackfield records so great.

Unfortunately the rest of the record is lacking. "X-Ray" featuring Kavanaugh is a pleasant piece and the music works very well with his voice, but is ultimately a trifle. Brett Anderson doing "Firefly," while having a compelling voice that works incredibly well in the glammish Suede, is almost embarrassing; his over-the-top delivery fits well with Bernard Butler or, to less effect, Richard Oakes' churning guitars. It doesn't work with the orchestration and precision of Blackfield. Donahue's "The Only Fool Is Me" feels like filler to end an album side, coming in as a two-minute lullaby.

"Springtime" and the second side has more of the Blackfield vibe. Side opener "Jupiter" is followed by the heavy-ish "Kissed By The Devil" and the poppy "Lost Souls." "Faking" has a middling chorus and verse but then soars into a brilliant bridge; too bad it couldn't have been used in a better overall song. "After The Rain" closes the album but still feels like more filler.

Overall it is a disappointment. I really love Blackfield and was seriously looking forward to this record. It isn't a bad album on it's own; perhaps it should have been marketed as an Aviv Geffen solo record. I understand Steven Wilson wanting to step back a bit from other commitments, especially considering how well his solo career is going, but Blackfield works best as a true collaboration between two unique artists.

Here's the aforementioned "Jupiter." A great song that is supported by a fantastic video.

Forever Becoming

The best music is pure power. It attracts you, it reels you in, it envelops you. That is a primary reason why I often retreat to albums through headphones, searching for a powerful construct that overwhelms the sense. I prefer the lights extinguished except for a single candle. I take my contacts out or my glasses off. My primary sense at this point is auditory. Words are not even necessary. Often times it is simply the music that rushes over.

The latest record from Chicago's Pelican is Forever Becoming and it is one of those records. It occupies the post-metal niche but it is more than that. It is not just meticulously crafted but almost created. It is movement and energy. It feels alive.

The album opens with "Terminal." A slow build-up, like an engine turning over on a cold morning. It is after a minute the song finds its footing. Bass and drums driving the slow rhythm, an electric guitar picking notes over the top as the melody builds. It comes to a stop before "Deny The Absolute" crashes like a wave, the tuned down guitars assaulting the record needle. The jarring bass of "The Tundra" that rumbles like a beast. "Immutable Dusk" open the second side of the first vinyl record (the orange vinyl, as compared to the blue), might be the best of those songs, interlacing doom sludge with respite of cascading guitar work.

What sets Pelican apart is that dichotomy. Of power giving way to groove giving way again to power. Without any vocals the music must stand on its own. It cannot give way to predictability but has to be grand in scope. So we have 8 songs that vary in length three-and-a-half minutes to over nine. But none of those minutes feels wasted or for naught. It builds upon itself in emotion.

Here is "Deny The Absolute."