CD Odyssey Disc 1808: Halestorm

I got out for a few runs this week and as a result this next album got a lot of consecutive listens (‘running’ is a variation of ‘walking around’ so counts for listening purposes under Rule #5).

Disc 1808 is…Into the Wild Life

Artist: Halestorm

Year of Release: 2015

What’s up with the Cover? The band hanging out with their equipment. Lzzy Hale looks a bit guilty here, like maybe this is the opening band’s equipment, and she’s putting gum on one of the trunk handles or something.

The rest of the band is looking away which means they either don’t know what’s going on or they are totally in on the prank and playing lookout.

How I Came To Know It: I don’t recall, but it was recent – some time last year. I then did a bit of a deep dive, put a bunch of records on my “to find” list and then encountered pretty much all of them in a record store…in the mall. Anyone who says mall life is dead is wrong. It is only mostly dead.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Halestorm albums. I had reserved a higher spot for this record, but it ended up displacing “Back from the Dead” for last place so…5^th.

Ratings: 3 stars

For Halestorm, it is all about that voice. Lzzy Hale is one of the great rock voices in the history of the genre. Multi-octave range, plenty of growl and power to blow the doors off an armoured car. But even when it is all about the voice, a record needs more than that. “Into the Wild Life” is polished to perfection, but like a sphere that perfection makes it hard to get a grip on. It is too much in the lane and needs a little bit more pothole and gravel to be a truly great rock record.

There are plenty of reasons to like this record, which is a baker’s dozen rock bangers great for driving, head bobbing and all manner of fist pumping action. These songs are easy to enjoy. They are a collection of anthems that you would sing along to but – alas – keeping up with Lzzy Hale’s vocals is not a thing that will happen. Better to just lip synch and feel like you can make those sounds (you cannot – they are reserved for rock goddesses and Valkyries).

The biggest anthem of them all is “Amen” which takes us all to the church of rock with a bunch of easy-to-remember rhymes and a hard hitting, in-the-pocket delivery that lends itself to guilt-free moshing. If listening to this song doesn’t make you want to pray at Halestorm’s altar, then something is wrong with your earholes.

It is followed by the record’s signature ballad (and single) “Dear Daughter”. No screeching guitar riffs here, just some echoing piano chords and that goddamn perfect voice again. “Dear Daughter” is a song of intergenerational female empowerment. Lyrics like:

“Dear daughter
Don't worry about those stupid girls
If they try to bring you down
It's ‘cause they're scared and insecure
Dear daughter
Don't change for any man
Even if he promises the stars
And takes you by the hand”

Are pretty standard and obvious, frankly, but Hale follows them up with an affirming:

“These are words that every girl should have a chance to hear.”

Hardly Shakespeare but a Goddamn lovely sentiment. Moreover, when Hale sings this stuff, you will feel the feels. This is not an option. There may be a small part of your English Literature-trained brain that wants something more innovative, but you will feel this stuff. Also, it feels good.

Hale sings plenty of “bad girl” anthems on this record as well (with much more electric guitar, of course) and those are fun as well, but there’s an inner balance of character that makes for an uplifting listen. “Bad Girl’s World” is about excelling in the face of jealousy and ignorance. When sex is mentioned on some tracks (and it most certainly is), she’s sex positive. When things aren’t positive (“The Reckoning”, “What Sober Couldn’t Say”) they come from a place of telling some jackass off in exactly the way jackasses need to be told off.

The musicianship on “Into the Wild Life” is strong, and the band is tight and precise. Frankly, I could’ve used a little hint of sloppy here and there. Hale would’ve soared over it just fine, and the perfection of the playing makes songs that don’t have the strongest lyrics sound a bit too sanitized.

The production has that turn of the oughts “loud” quality as well. Crisp and clean but again, maybe a bit too on the mark. Rock and roll needs a thin coating of grime over the all that excellence. The record is squarely in the hard rock style, my inner metal head wanted more crunch and grind.

The melodies on “Into the Wild Life” will not win awards for innovation, and the lyrics are often predictable but Halestorm delivers it well, and even when you know it isn’t anything music hasn’t seen before you’ll still have a good time. And if nothing else lands, there’s that voice, worth the price of admission and then some.

Best tracks: Amen, Dear Daughter

CD Odyssey Disc 1807: Led Zeppelin

It has been just over 10 years since I last reviewed a Led Zeppelin album, but we’re back to celebrate the iconic band with this last album of theirs in my collection.

Disc 1807 is…Presence

Artist: Led Zeppelin

Year of Release: 1976

What’s up with the Cover? A perfect nuclear family gathers around the dining room table to fixate on…something.

Little Girl: “Daddy, what is it?”

Dad: “It’s something that daddy brought back from his last trip to Antarctica.”

Mom: “Is it dangerous, dear?”

Dad: “No, not at all. It will change us all in wonderful ways. It whispers the most incredible knowledge to those who serve it.”

Little Boy: “I don’t hear anything.”

Dad: “You will, son. You will.”

Later, three professors from Miskatonic University were convicted of breaking into the house and killing and dismembering the entire family with axes. The object was never found, and the professors went to the electric chair refusing to say where it was, or utter a single word about why they had done what they had done.

But I digress…

How I Came To Know It: I am of a certain age and I am surrounded by fellow music fans so every Led Zeppelin album at some point has been the subject of conversation several times over.

“Presence” is another of those, although I think it was my friend Chris D. who put “Presence” on and convinced me that I had to have it. Up to that point I had ceased my journeying with “Houses of the Holy.”

How It Stacks Up: Led Zeppelin released nine studio albums over their career, but I only have six. This is by design, as “Physical Graffiti”, “In Through the Out Door” and “Coda” have never appealed to me. Sorry not sorry, Zeppelin zealots.

Of the six I do have, “Presence” is a late-breaking treasure. I rank it at #2. As this is my last Zeppelin review, here is a full recap:

1. IV: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 342)
2. Presence: 4 stars (reviewed right here)
3. II: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 72)
4. I: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 27)
5. Houses of the Holy: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 707)
6. III: 3 stars (reviewed at Disc 607)

Wow – those are some early reviews. Some even predate my decision to do a “What’s Up With the Cover?” section which I started around Disc 100.

Ratings: 4 stars

A friend (and huge Zeppelin fan) this week remarked to me that Zeppelin was one of those bands where you can listen to it differently every time and still love the experience. This is because Zeppelin is one of those rare bands, like Queen or Blue Oyster Cult, where every member in the band is bringing the top of their game.

“Presence” is a particularly good example of the principle. Its complex arrangements, and the way the songs organically spin into further and further fractals of a song’s structure without ever losing the melody, are the perfect breeding ground for these masters of their craft to show off a little.

The opening track, “Achilles Last Stand” exemplifies this. Over the galloping insistent drumming of John Bonham, Robert Plant warbles and wails away somewhere between stoner messiah and high priest of weird. You always believe Plant because even when his vocals are at their most excessive, he remains fully lost in the song.

Over around and through all of this is the guitar work of Jimmy Page. “Achilles Last Stand” is over ten minutes long but it never gets stale, and a big part of that is Page’s guitar threading its way in and out of the melody and playing more killer solos than most guitarists could write in their lifetimes. His work on “Achilles Last Stand” is mysterious and dreamlike and pulls you into a state of heightened reverie where worlds converge and all things are possible.

And John Paul Jones? He holds everything together, there for you when you want some low notes, and never getting in the way.

“Presence” is the proggiest of my Zeppelin albums, but it also mixes in bluesy riffs more common to their early work. The best of these is “For Your Life” which is a bit more “Zeppelin straight up” and the perfect chaser to the hi-test complexities of “Achilles Last Stand”.

My favourite song among many good ones is “Nobody’s Fault But Mine”. This tune mixes the proggy goodness of “Achilles Last Stand” with the bluesy elements of “For Your Life” and pumps out what we expect from Led Zeppelin – excess and excellence, and a whole lot of musical ideas all jostling one another and making each other better.

This is also my favourite Robert Plant performance of any Zeppelin song (this record or any other). Plant finds a new way to sing the refrain “nobody’s fault but mine” ten different ways, each one greasier than the last. You get the impression that Plant has fully explored the fact that he is at fault here, internalized the crap out of that and, that deep down, he still likes whatever it is that he did. It’s an admission of culpability, yes, but the way he sings it, it’s also a brag.

The only song on the record that didn’t blow me away in some way is the last one. At 9:25 “Tea For One” is just a bit too long for a tune without much to say. It is that aspect of Zeppelin where their excess feels self-serving. Like they invited you over for drinks but didn’t tell you it would just be you sitting in the kitchen while they jammed for three hours.

Without that one blemish this would be a five-star album. As it is, it is still pretty damned amazing. It isn’t the first album that people mention when they talk in hallowed tones about Zeppelin (that is, of course, “IV”) but it oughtta be second.

Best tracks: Achilles Last Stand, For Your Life, Royal Orleans, Nobody’s Fault But Mine

CD Odyssey Disc 1806: Bodega

I did some of the listening to this next album love on headphones over the weekend and some more in the car on the commute to work.

Disc 1806 is…Our Brand Could Be Yr Life

Artist: Bodega

Year of Release: 2024

What’s up with the Cover? It is an ATM. Not an ATM machine, damn it. Just an ATM. Say it properly.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review which caught my attention enough to give a couple of songs a listen. The initial post-punk groove was in my wheelhouse, so I took the plunge.

The review I read (Paste Magazine) hinted at this album revisiting songs written earlier, but I’m not one for biographical background so what you’ll read here are the observations of someone who knows very little about this band, and nothing about their former releases. I’m just here for the music, ma’am.

How It Stacks Up: Bodega has three albums, but this is the only one I own, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 2 stars

If “Our Brand Could Be Yr Life” were an actual bodega it would be one where the front of the store is full of fancy candy and high-end beef jerky, but the back is mostly expired milk in a failing refrigerator. By which I mean that things got less appetizing the further I explored.

Bodega is a post-punk indie pop band and true to that earlier metaphor the record starts out with them strutting their best stuff. The band is more post- than punk, with the punk being more the frantic delivery and anti-establishment messaging. The post- part of the experience shows early signs that these folks really know the art of the hook.

“Dedicated to the Dedicated” could have climbed right off a classic New Wave record from the late seventies or early eighties, all the way down to singer Ben Hozie’s perfect but edgy phrasing, like a latter-day Joe Strummer.

They follow this up with the very different (but also very fun) “G.N.D. Deity”. Here we have Hozie’s co-vocalist Nikki Belfiglio bringing a dance edge to the experience with just as much talent and phrasing precision as her partner.

By the time “Tarkovski” rolls in at Track 4 with its rock edged guitar careening around visuals that (I think) are inspired by Soviet film director Andrei Tarkovsky, I was feeling pretty positive about where this record was going, and yet…warning sides had emerged that it was all about to be deconstructed. Deliberately.

First of all, there had already been at least one instance of interjection of non-musical element (a robotic AI voice at the front of “G.N.D. Deity” saying “our brand could be your life” that seemed purposefully designed to knock me out of my listening experience and remind me at some meta level that this was a listening experience. This would be repeated in various iterations and phrases throughout the record and got progressively more annoying.

Call me old fashioned, but I like to enjoy art, not enjoy the idea of enjoying art while looking at it ironically from an emotionally safe distance. Barf to that – I wanna feel the feels.

As for Andrei Tarkovski films, my experience is they are unwatchable and overly aware of themselves. I’ve tried and failed twice to get more than 30 minutes into Tarkovski’s “Solaris”. As “Our Brand…” unfolded I found a similar experience unfolding.

First was the droning “Stain Gaze” which was some sort of saturated noise situation that pulled me down from the previous pop/New Wave/post-punk energy I had been grooving on. It further demonstrated the band’s stylistic range, but not in a way that was enjoyable.

By Side Two (or Track 8 for us CD listeners) you start getting songs that feel more like snippets of ideas, joined to one another at awkward angles. There is promising stuff in much of this concept soup, but they aren’t explored fully, or are deliberately terminated with a jarring new beat, melody or even a non-musical element.

Bodega are super talented but it felt that having proved they could write a radio hit or two, they wanted to just explore the space and challenge our preconceived ideas of music. At some level I admired it, but it was successful only in fits and starts.

By the time I arrived at tracks 12-14 (aka “Cultural Consumer I”, “Cultural Consumer II” and “Cultural Consumer III”) they had fully lost me. Small snippets of songs loosely connected into something bigger can be inspired (see Side Two of the Beatles’ “Abbey Road”) but it ain’t easy to do well. By the end of “Our Brand…” I didn’t feel inspired, I felt lectured at.

Perhaps the record is best summed up on the lyrics to one of its better songs. On “Protean”, Hozie sings:

“She said there’s nothing ever new in the arts
Right then I knew we would start to break way
That thinking is lazy.”

True, but throwing everything at a wall and seeing what sticks is also lazy. Disassembling something just to show the pieces is as well, and that’s how the record felt by the end. I fully expect this was the plan, and that I’m just not the target audience for this approach to art. Hey, that’s OK – it takes all kinds - but I still knew that the breaking away was going to be mutual.

I’ll now pass this album along to someone who will enjoy it more than I did.

Best tracks: Dedicated to the Dedicated, G.N.D. Deity, Tarkovski, Protean

CD Odyssey Disc 1805: Great Grandpa

What is rock vs. pop and where’s the dividing line? Things can get a bit fuzzy, particularly in the indie world. This next record is a bit of both.

Disc 1805 is…Four of Arrows

Artist: Great Grandpa

Year of Release: 2019

What’s up with the Cover? I would say some astral travel is going down here. This lady has gotten herself in the right frame of mind with some ritual and has laid down to go for a float on the astral plane. Um…cool.

Personally, if I were going to go for a float in the astral plane, I’d pick a more secure place to leave my body. What’s going to stop some wandering bear or troupe of ants from messing with my physical self? Maybe the arrows provide some sort of mystical barrier that vermin and predators can’t cross.

But I digress…on with the review.

How I Came To Know It: I read a review when this album came out, gave it a listen and liked what I heard. But because I couldn’t find it on CD I didn’t buy it for the longest time. Then, during COVID I discovered downloading music wasn’t so terrible after all, so I went back through my old wish list for records I couldn’t get on physical media. I got this one off Bandcamp, which is a great way to support smaller independent artists, because they get the lion’s share of the sale.

I just took a look at Discogs and apparently you can get this album on CD. If so, I haven’t found it yet and until I do, my version will have to do.

How It Stacks Up: Great Grandpa has three studio albums to their credit, but I’ve only got this one, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 3 stars

“Four of Arrows” is one of those albums that benefits from a listen on headphones. The growl of my car engine was unkind to the subtlety of Great Grandpa’s music, which is a rock/pop mix that relies on mood over boom.

It all starts with lead singer Al Menne, who has a sweet pop quality that sits on top of arrangements that sometimes get a bit too heavy for their own good. Menne’s vocals aren’t powerhouse, but she has a nice lilt and even a bit of growl when she cuts loose. The combination allows her to spin like a satellite around music that goes from very sparse to very rich in the space of a single song.

This quality is what often makes the songs on “Four of Arrows” interesting, but it can also lend itself to being overwrought. The line is thin, and the band tends to fall on both sides of it, sometimes within the same song.

A good example is “Digger”, which starts out light and gentle and ends boisterous. Indie bands often make the mistake of letting the arrangement mask over the failure to resolve a song’s melody. At the same time, this is one of the record’s best songs, because while it doesn’t end well, the dynamics between soft and hard along the way make for some unexpected but welcome choices. Just know how to wrap it up.

Of late I’ve been finding myself surrounded by Japanese art and philosophical concepts. A few months ago I learned about the imperfect beauty of wabi sabi. Here Great Grandpa’s song “Mono no Aware” introduced me to that concept of wistful impermanence. At least I hope that adjective/noun combo captures it. Like many great ideas from other languages and cultures it doesn’t neatly translate. That’s the best part about it, frankly. Embrace seeing things differently!

It is also one of the record’s strongest songs, itself an exploration not just of mono no aware, but also the uncertainty of whether you can ever truly feel what someone else is feeling. Not really, but it is always worth the effort.

Many of the songs have an upbeat pop radio quality but with a coating of sadness and uncertainty. The effect leaves you with a restless energy and a desire to go for a walk in the rain.

When I first heard “Four of Arrows” it made a strong impression. Five or six years later the bloom was off the rose, but after a few listens some of the old magic came back. Now if I could just find it on compact disc…

Best tracks: Digger, Mono no Aware, Bloom, Rosalie, Split Up the Kids

CD Odyssey Disc 1804: Ronnie Montrose

Because my reviews are from my own music collection, they tend to skew positive. But every now and then something terrible manages to surface.

Disc 1804 is…Open Fire

Artist: Montrose (specifically, Ronnie Montrose)

Year of Release: 1978

What’s up with the Cover? Ronnie Montrose’s Giant Head, obscured by a bunch of circuitry and targets or dials. Perhaps this signifies that Montrose has been replaced by a terminator, on a mission to exterminate all good music it can find.

How I Came To Know It: My friend Spence introduced me to the band Montrose, but not this particular album, which was the last entry in a 5-disc set, and one I hadn’t heard when I bought it. The set was a good deal though, so how bad could it be?

How It Stacks Up: I have five Montrose albums. This is easily the worst one, and it is not even close.

Ratings: 1 star

You know that scene in Animal House at the toga party where Bluto smashes that dude’s guitar and then says “sorry” and walks away? That’s what I wanted to do to Ronnie Montrose’s “Open Fire” album from the opening note. The feeling only grew through what would become 35 very long and very hellish minutes.

On his first solo album away from his namesake band, Ronnie Montrose acts like he is finally free could do exactly whatever he wanted. Really show the fans that all that kick-ass, hard-rockin’ Montrose stuff was only the beginning! That he, Ronnie Montrose, could do anything, blend any style, and make any creative choice he desired without consequence. Well, I give full credit for the ambition.

The result is a record that manages to predict the soft yacht rock snoozefest of the early eighties, only with the guitar playing the role of villain usually reserved for the saxophone. The opening track, - unimaginatively titled “Openers” - sounds like the soundtrack to some early eighties cop-show drama, or maybe a low budget TV movie. “Town Without Pity,” similarly takes no pity (on its listeners) with some mix of easy listening and jazz that you’d expect to be playing in an elevator where you find yourself trapped.

The title track is particularly overwrought. Yes, the song has a groove, but it’s not a particularly interesting one. This song feels like the sad soundtrack of a car chase between a 1980 Mustang and a 1994 Camaro. Nothing is moving too quickly, and it ain’t pretty to look at either. The guitar solo on “Open Fire” is like that jam session where there’s the makings of a happy groove going, but then the guy on guitar decides to go apeshit and play a solo all his own for eight bars. When he’s done, he looks up with a big grin like he’s done everyone a favour, only to find the others staring at him in sullen silence. You can’t even fire him; he owns the band.

Things don’t improve when the guitar takes a back seat. Yes “Mandolina” has a mandolin, but it mostly features a sequencer and a synthesizer front and centre. The song feels like when you visit your buddy on Boxing Day and find out he got a programmable Casio for Christmas. No, he has not learned to play it yet, but in the rush of discovery that is not going to stop him from trying out all the buttons.

Seeking something positive, I lighted on “Leo Rising”. Yeah, it feels a bit like you’ve stumbled into a Renaissance fair, but Montrose plays with good tone and you can hear the vestiges of what makes those early Montrose records so awesome. There are moments of this in other songs as well, but they are fleeting.

More often than not, the record had me in a state of diffuse and unfocused agitation. In addition to reminding me of Bluto’s act of guitar violence, I found myself wishing for that scene in Monty Python’s Holy Grail where they eat the minstrels. Sadly, it was not to be. There would be no rejoicing.

Instead, we are left with a meandering directionless, self-congratulatory record that. It is all the more infuriating because I really like Montrose, the band. Those guys made some killer music, and Ronnie Montrose’s writing and guitar are a big part of the reason why. He is a gifted player, and to hear that talent spent on this easy listening wankery was doubly difficult.

The last song on the record is called “No Beginning/No End”. There is another word for that, Ronnie: interminable. Ordinarily I would send it on its way, but it is part of that great 5-disc set of Montrose classics, so instead I’ll keep it as part of the set. I’ll just remind myself never to play it.

Sorry for the uncharacteristic negative vibes, friends. This rarely happens, but I’ve got to keep it real. I encourage you to check out Montrose’s early catalogue – just steer clear of “Open Fire”.

Best tracks: nope. “Leo Rising” is the best of a bad bunch

CD Odyssey Disc 1803: Patti Smith

Due to inclement weather, I rode the bus to work most of this week. Asa a result, I got in lots of extra music listening time, including this uneven but occasionally brilliant gem of yesteryear.

Disc 1803 is…Radio Ethiopia

Artist: Patti Smith Group

Year of Release: 1976

What’s up with the Cover? Patti sits on the floor, looking amped up and apprehensive.

Are you feeling amped up and apprehensive? Listening to his album may give voice to that feeling. That could be good, or you could opt for a spot of hot tea to calm your nerves. Not everyone is up for the fully immersed ‘life-as-art’ experience that Patti Smith inhabits.

How I Came To Know It: Sheila bought me a couple of Patti Smith albums as a gift many years ago (“Easter” and “Horses”). This got me hooked and a while later I found a five-album set that included both of those, plus three others. One of the three others was “Radio Ethiopia”.

How It Stacks Up: I have five Patt Smith albums. They’re all good, but one of them had to be last and it is going to be “Radio Ethiopia”. This is the last review of my Patti Smith collection, so as tradition dictates, here’s a recap:

1. Easter: 5 stars (reviewed at Disc 1368)
2. Horses: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 915)
3. Wave: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1144)
4. Dream of Life: 4 stars (reviewed at Disc 1037)
5. Radio Ethiopia: 3 stars (reviewed right here)

Ratings: 3 stars but almost 4

“Radio Ethiopia” is a wildly inconsistent record, where both the good and the bad are equally fuelled by Patti Smith’s uncompromising and wholly immersive approach to art and music. Or to put it colloquially, she does what she feels like doing. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t.

Of all my Patti Smith albums it is easily the least accessible. If you are looking for a radio single, you will be looking in vain. This is a “I do whatever I want any old time” kind of record, fuelled by an artistic vision so deeply lodged in the now that it had me doubting that even Smith knows where things are going to go on any given track.

The opening track, “Ask the Angels” is about as straight as it is gonna get, with a bit of metallic punk guitar and a vocal performance that – like everything Smith has ever done – is all-in. That deep throaty voice, caterwauling across the song’s melody is what makes Smith so amazing. She fully immerses herself in the music in a way that few artists can match.

This is a vibe that Yoko Ono consistently attempted to land with all her irritating yips and growls, without success (sorry, not sorry, Yoko apologists). Smith shows how awe-inspiring it can be when you shed all pretention and just do it. To do that and make it work takes a whole lot of talent, of course.

OK, first straight up rock song out of they way, is it? Let’s descend a bit further into the weird. “Ain’t It Strange” starts out with a very cool bit of guitar that sets an eerie, otherworldly tone that is made flesh by the various other instruments that come in behind it (including Smith’s vocals, of course). This is not a dance song, except maybe around a bonfire with a bunch of folks painted in Dayglo. I imagine the dancers were prepping for an orgy they forget to have, instead running off into the woods amid growls and guttural screams. Not what you expected? That’s how strange works. Next time, stay on the trail.

From here “Radio Ethiopia” wanders pretty fucking far from the trail. The record doubles down on moody, weird, otherworldly sounds. Cthulhu himself would be proud. The result is some great songs and some others that should have been left in the studio as late-night outtakes: fun to record, but not for sharing outside of those in on the joke.

For the most part I like this acid rock sounding stuff, so I was inclined to forgive the record its lesser efforts. And I would’ve, too, if it weren’t for a couple behemoths. “Poppies” (seven minutes) and “Radio Ethiopia – Live” (ten minutes) are just too damn long to be that unstructured. It was like a great trip at the beginning, followed by a strung-out feeling accompanied by a tension headache as things dragged on.

I’ll end on a high note with a reference to “Distant Fingers,” which is co-written by Blue Oyster Cult keyboardist Allen Lanier. Lanier dated Smith and they made some cool music together for both their respective bands. “Distant Fingers” isn’t their finest collaboration (that would be “Fire of Unknown Origin”) but it has a gentle and mysterious sway that lands dead centre between the two artists’ styles. It blends old school rock crooning with the proto-punk sounds of Smith. The mix is not for everyone, but I like it.

This record has 4-star potential, but at critical moments it can’t reign itself in, falling just a hair short of excellence.

Best tracks: Ask the Angels, Ain’t It Strange, Pissing in a River, Distant Fingers

CD Odyssey Disc 1802: Arkham Witch

I really wanted to put this album on my best albums of 2024 list, but while it was released in this format last year, it is actually the mashing together of 2012’s “Legions of the Deep” and the 2013 EP, “Hammerstorm”.

Disc 1802 is…Legions of the Deeper Depths

Artist: Arkham Witch

Year of Release: 2024 but featuring content originally released in 2012 and 2013

What’s up with the Cover? Dread Cthulhu returns! Also featured some Deep Ones climbing out of the shadows and some local townsfolk who clearly have the Innsmouth Look preparing to join them to celebrate the end of the world.

If phrases like “dread Cthulhu”, “Deep Ones” and having “the Innsmouth Look” don’t mean anything to you, this record may not be for you.

How I Came To Know It: Last October I was digging around randomly on Youtube (as one does) and I found a song called “On Crom’s Mountain” by Arkham Witch. As I grokked the rest of the band’s catalogue I discovered they had a real penchant for H.P. Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos. This drew me further in, and before you know it I was on their Bandcamp site, gleefully giggling like a cultist experiencing the apocalypse.

How It Stacks Up: I have three Arkham Witch albums. Of those three, “Legions of the Deeper Depths” comes in at…#1.

Ratings: 4 stars

Some metal bands like to sing about one topic a lot. Sabaton likes battles. Alestorm likes pirates. English traditional metal band Arkham Witch likes H.P. Lovecraft. If you like this sort of thing, you are going to have a good time listening to this record.

“But wait,” you cry out, “If I just want to hear crunchy guitar riffs, is that enough?”

In the case of “Legions of the Deeper Depths” that is enough and then some, because these guys are the absolute masters of the crunchy metal riff. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve heard a more riff-centric record.

You know with some metal you get a tasty couple of bars of a riff and then the band moves on before you can fully chew on that mosh-tastic goodness? That does not happen here. Arkham Witch digs into a good guitar riff and then they settle down and stay a while. Worst case scenario is a song might have two or three crunchy riffs, with the band artfully cycling through them. You will get your fill of guitar growl and then you will get some more of it.

The style of music shows a band that grew up listening to Black Sabbath and Cirith Ungol. You will not get musical acrobatics here. You will get a doubling down of thump. I think it might be too much for some, and if you like your metal a bit on the proggy side, you are going to get fidgety listening to this record. “Why don’t Arkham Witch do more with this song?” you may (wrongly) opine.

Answer – they don’t have to. When you drop furious licks like these with this kind of amped up but impeccable timing you have done all you need to do and then some.

But enough of that, let’s get back to the horror themes, shall we? Arkham Witch are lovers of literature, and while the lyrics are to the point (and sometimes full of expletives) they are thoughtful reimaginings of Lovecraft’s mythos. “At the Mountains of Madness” is a brilliant retelling of the 1931 novella of the same name. We’ve got creeping evil shoggoths, and star-spawn and a general reveling in the horrible discovery (as the story relates) that humans are small and insignificant before the terror of elder gods and alien races. Fun!

This being early Arkham Witch they don’t sing exclusively about Lovecraftian stuff (for that experience check out 2016’s “I Am Providence”). They mix in other standard metal fare including Vikings (“The Cloven Sea”) and some post-apocalyptic science fiction (“Infernal Machine”). This is also great, and just as filled to the brim with rifftastic action. The record ends with a song celebrating the band’s hometown (“We’re From Keighley”) which is a bombastic punk/metal crossover that is fist-pumpingly fantastic.

As noted in the teaser, this re-issue includes three bonus tracks, which were originally the EP “Hammerstorm”. This EP is equally awesome, and having it tagged onto the album was like getting sprinkles on your ice cream cone – it just made it better. “Hammerstorm”’s title track is an 11-minute epic about Thor (obviously) followed by two songs celebrating the pure joy of heavy metal music.

The best of these is the aptly titled, “For Metal” which celebrates metal in an undiluted way that recalls such classics as Saxon’s “Denim and Leather”. “For Metal” isn’t at the same level of “Denim and Leather” but the celebratory tone is there. Best line, “We will not suffer a poser to live.”

Arkham Witch are far from famous, and if you don’t love the sound of the New Wave of Traditional Heavy Metal, they may not be for you. But if you like heavy metal, timeless guitar riffs and songs about cool shit, you are going to have a good time.

Best tracks: David Lund, At the Mountains of Madness, Infernal Machine, Kult of Kutulu, We’re From Keighley, For Metal

CD Odyssey Disc 1801: Sarah Siskind

This next album ended up #9 on my Top 10 of 2020 list.

Disc 1801 is…Modern Appalachia

Artist: Sarah Siskind

Year of Release: 2020

What’s up with the Cover? A drawing (or woodcut print?) of a woman wearing a large bird as a blouse. Or possibly a woman turning into a bird based on whatever is going in with the hands.

If you wanted to turn into a bird, this would be a pretty great life moment. If you had no intention of turning into a bird, this would be terrifying. Perspective matters.

How I Came To Know It: the boring way I find a lot of music; I read a review.  This time on American Songwriter, which is one of a few review sites I routinely troll for new music. The process goes something like this:

• I skim the review for words and phrases that warn me to stay away (e.g. “very jazzy”; “ambient soup of sound”).
• If I don’t find any of those, I read a bit more deeply. If it sounds interesting, I’ll play an embedded link or check out a single.
• If I like that, I play the whole album.
• If I like that then…well, here we are.

How It Stacks Up: this is my only Sarah Siskind album, so it can’t stack up.

Ratings: 4 stars

“Modern Appalachia” is an example of how music can not only tell a story but change your mood and perceptions of the world around you. Sarah Siskind’s combination of country and folk music is the vehicle here, and you will quickly fall under her spell. Great songwriting abounds here, but it also helps that her voice has the tone it does. Even the more humdrum songs are held up by that rich, warm voice that seeps into your bones like heat from a woodstove.

The record starts you off unexpectedly, with the atmospheric “Me and Now”. It’s not my favourite tune on the record, but the guitar has a lovely lilting float to it. You know those late nights when you find yourself alone and contemplative and very much in the now? That’s this song. It settles you into a dreamy feeling of acceptance. Sometimes you gotta just relax and be. This is a song for that.

While it is a good start, the album’s masterpiece is the title track which follows. “Modern Appalachia” redefines why tone matters in both singing and playing. Gone are the atmospheric sounds of “Me and Now”, and you are treated to a stripped-down exploration of Siskind’s various musical influences. Dolly Parton, Mahalia Jackson, Paul Brady and Bill Frisell all get shout outs, although the way this song rolls gently toward you, they are more…hug outs? Hearing Sarah Siskind’s voice climb effortlessly up through the refrain is as close as you can get to god without dyin’.

And if that weren’t enough, Bill Frisell isn’t just mentioned, he plays lead guitar. Yes Bill Frisell is a jazz guitarist and no, I have no love for his solo work (sorry, Bill). Nevertheless, once restrained into the structure of a folk song he is able to explore blue notes here and there in a way that just adds to the wonder of Siskind, her heroes and a general sense of the magic of what ‘Modern Appalachia’ represents and inspires musically.

It's worth noting that while Frisell lends his talents to a couple of songs, Siskind is no slouch on the guitar either and has mastered her own playing with that same warm tone her voice holds.

On “Punk Rock Girl” Siskind explores the heartache of rejection through the prism of wishing for that harder edged youthful version of herself. She’s a folk singer feeling the feels these days, but that younger, punk rock girl would have known just how to brazenly walk past a little heartache. At least that’s the theory. The tension between the two versions of herself captures the complexity that exists in even the simplest encounter with grief.

There is a lot of faith-driven music on the album, and while I’m not a religious person I found these songs some of the most inspired. I’ve been listening to a lot of Elvis singing devotionals lately and what makes it work first and foremost is that Elvis feels it. No subterfuge – dude just loves God.

On “Modern Appalachia” Siskind’s explorations of faith are grounded in natural settings. “In the Mountains” is a song about how climbing high into beautiful natural spaces makes you feel close to something bigger than yourself. “Rest in the River” is the same experience, but down in the valleys and the river, washing trouble and toil away.

This is the feeling of being safe and sound in the arms of something greater than you. When the world’s expansive wonder wraps its arms around you, making you feel diffused and comforted at the same time. We’ve all felt it, and these songs had me yearning to cast off the trappings of my urban life and get out in the woods like I did when I was a kid and just feel the power of nature all around me. I don’t call that god, but some people do, and that’s OK. It’s the feeling that matters.

This record gave me a lot of these feelings and left me with the same restful but alert experience of those youthful wanderings. Thanks for the journey, Ms. Siskind.

Best tracks: Modern Appalachia, In the Mountains, A Little Bit Troubled, Punk Rock Girl, Rest in the River