Album Review: Robots of the Ancient World - "3737"

Let’s be honest with ourselves – it’s easy to be a doom band.  Let’s be honest with ourselves again – it’s easy to be a stoner band.  Ergo, it is easy to be a stoner doom band.  Inboxes of music people across the globe are positively turgid with demos and promotional material concerning a bunch of greasy, long-haired denim-wearers who have fuzzed out their guitars and decided to play blues-based, eight-minute dirges in two-four time.  And all of them have a name that combines some vestiges of fantasy (or the occult,) science fiction, ancient civilization, and a color.  If someone said to you “have you heard the new Chartreuse Parallactic Ziggurat album?” you already know that it’s a stoner doom record.  Parenthetically, it’s also easy to get noticed as one of these also-ran bands.  The mere appellation of “sounds like Black Sabbath” garners attention, since the Sab Four were such innovators and masters within the art form that their name carries great cache, yet to be, and perhaps never to be, diminished by time.

With great patience comes great reward, though.  For those willing to sift through the mire, there are occasional diamonds uncovered within the burgeoning piles of run-of-the-mill muck.  Enter into the fray Robots of the Ancient World (who, yes, are guilty of the naming convention mentioned above, but bear with us,) and their new release “3737.”  

The most difficult part of being a stoner or doom band is not only being interesting in some way, but maintaining whatever it is that’s so interesting throughout the duration of the record.  Truly, absent anything else, that’s the foremost strength of “3737,” and the thing that sets it apart from the nebulous cloud of contemporaries – this album is never boring.  

A number of important executive decisions were made here, not the least of which is that the album keeps to a slim six tracks, so even though they average about seven minutes said and done (the two-and-change interlude of “Apollo” notwithstanding,) it never feels as though “3737” has worn out its welcome, even as it wends through the sloping, ten-minute curves of “Silver Cloud” right at the end.

Not only does Robots of the Ancient World elude the noose of dragging on too long by its simple duration, it makes the most of its time through the use of catchy but varied and creative riffs, and juxtaposes that against the unique-for-the-genre vocals of Caleb Weidenbach.  Caleb bites his words off, not given to the airy groaning or wailing that is so often associated with the genre (even by Ozzy, truth be told,) and the twin guitars of Nico Schmutz (great name,) and Justin Laubscher never give into the temptation of extending a song out merely because the time is available to do no.  Everything snaps, everything has a purpose, and the end effect is kind of like if Misfits-era Danzig sang for “Escape From the Prison Planet”-era Clutch.  

It's through that lens that one must view the album opener “Hindu Kush,” as the Clutch-ian chug, highlighted with just a little accent of The Sword’s distortion, is both the album’s best piece, most anthemic, and sets a perfect table for the mid-throttle selections that come thereafter.

“3737” does have some of the traits more common to an album of this type – it’s easy to get lost in the head-nodding and lose focus on the music for periods at a time, but the band shows great skill in always changing the proceedings at just the right interval to bring attention back again.  It’s worth repeating what was said above – this album is never boring.

To make a comparison to wines, if you prefer your stoner doom to be more full-bodied and rich, then by all means spin this new Robots of the Ancient World record.  Your senses will be rewarded.

Album Review: Red Fang - "Arrows"

Part of the undeniable truth of Red Fang is that they are a singles band.  While it might be overindulgent to suggest that the band employs a wide array of styles on each album, it is within the realm to state that they use a plethora of different tones and pace to create different emotional states. 

The result of all this is no album is complete effort, and the listener is thus forced to pick and choose which moment appeal to his or her individual taste.  This isn’t necessarily a bad thing – very few albums are perfect experiences for any individual – but it does mean that grading the album becomes a more complicated and subjective affair.

2011’s “Murder The Mountains” is largely regarded as the gold standard for Red Fang, the most complete and consistent of any of their efforts, and while “Arrows” has some moments that are in similar in accomplishment, it will not unseat that previous effort from the throne.

Red Fang have always been at their best when balancing a groovy downbeat with emotionally bleak subject matter.  “Good to Die,” and “Number Thirteen” both immediately come to mind.  “Arrows” boasts a couple of those same moments, and they come in the form of both the album’s early singles, the first being the title track, and then “Why,” much farther down on the album.  They’re both the kind of low-key, secretly infectious rhythms that Red Fang specializes in, and both will have you humming them in your daily life.  And then your wife asks you what song you’re humming, and you realize that your brain is pleasantly occupied by a song about irredeemable drug use and the callous non-caring of an indifferent society.

Now, between the margins of their usual anti-inspirational messaging, Red Fang usually fills in their albums with high-octane, stoner metal bangers.  “Hank is Dead” and “Cut It Short” are both mainstays of the Red Fang catalogue, popular at every show.  “Arrows” tries to emulate this winning formula, but none of the songs quite grip on that level.  “Two High” and “Anodyne” situated in the middle of the record, both try to fill that gap, and there are a few others, but none of the faster songs on “Arrows” are possessed of the same charm as the ones mentioned above.

Part of the confusion of “Arrows” is that it seems like there should be more here.  When “Whales and Leeches” was released, the listener had an immediate sense that it was not a pinnacle effort of the band.  “Arrows” doesn’t feel like that when you’re listening to it – all the effort and production and songwriting is there, it just doesn’t land many punches.  In the end, it’s easy to get trapped in, listening to it five or six times to try and unearth another kernel, as happened over the course of composing this article.

In the end, “Arrows” is a mild disappointment.  Better than “Whales and Leeches,” certainly, but not as good as “Only Ghosts,” and nowhere near the hallmark of “Murder the Mountains.”  Which is concerning only because it makes three album cycles since a band that is evidently great has released a world-class effort.

Album Review: Gypsy Chief Goliath - "Citizens of Nowhere"

One of the fundamental problems with genre labels is that they leave very little room for interpretation and flexibility.  By this point, the metalverse has more or less worked out what each of its three hundred thousand or so subgenres should sound like, and anytime somebody doesn’t fit the mold, they’re simply assigned a new genre label.  The manic scramble to label that which we haven’t heard before could probably be classified as an obsessive compulsive disorder, if you really look at it objectively.  Which brings us to Gypsy Chief Goliath, the Canadian stoner metal band that is more than just typical stoner metal fare.  The band and their new release “Citizens of Nowhere” blends and weaves Type O Negative, Clutch, and Kyuss with maybe, just maybe, a little Candlemass sprinkled in there for atmosphere.  It’s an expansive journey that stays on point without holding back.


There’s a certain vein of malice running through the circulatory system of “Citizens of Nowhere,” one that is capably real and ably portrayed by the musicians.  We’ve seen bands like Midnight Ghost Train or Black Wizard take on dour tones in the past, but they have difficulty holding and selling it within their natural blues structure.  Gypsy Chief Goliath, by contrast, wallows in the entangling mud of deep tones and vocals growls to lend an air of malice into a genre that is too often placated with wisps and flights of hallucinogen-induced fancy.  Sure, “Holding Grace” has some light-hearted tones, but the stark main riff helps create a little bit of ominous discord, while the vocal delivery combines the most enthusiastic parts of Viking Skull and Orange Goblin.


Where GCG excels is in patience.  “Citizens of Nowhere” is a premier exhibition in craft, taking its time and never rushing to a conclusion too early.  The album lets the tension build, whether in the grime-soaked halls of “Odyssey” or the otherworldly deep construction of “Elephant in the Room”.  Harmonica or no harmonica, “Black Samurai” is a thick plodder that absolutely refuses to budge more than it has to, but instead uses every part of its six minutes to its advantage, sewing in a blues-y guitar solo and some tidal rocking.  For a band that is capable of showing as much bite as this band is, the ability to let the songs either breathe or brood is a huge advantage over many of their contemporaries.


The one thing worth mentioning is concerning Gypsy Chief Goliath is that stoner metal purists may find themselves wishing that the band would use their melodic aptitude more to their advantage.  To call the band ‘stoner metal’ is accurate only to a point (not that the labels matter a whole heck of a lot,) because the band insists on using a more violent edge within their analog sound.  Academically that’s very interesting, but from a listening standpoint it sounds occasionally disconcerting.  GCG teeters precariously on the line between threatening and soulful which can make for a challenging listen if the goal is to simply space out and let the warm tones flow through you.


Overall, more good than bad here.  Substantially more.  Gypsy Chief Goliath does a lot of things right, even if their concoction is occasionally confusing in direction and intent.  “Citizens of Nowhere” is an enjoyable and dynamic listen, particularly for fans who are inclined into this style of music.  It’s not just your father’s stoner metal anymore.