New Band To Burn One To: MASTEROID - "HOLLOWED BEINGS"

MegaStonerRetroPunkFuzz has been quite brilliantly captured on this raw, garage rock of an album from a threesome of young and imaginative musicians out of Phoenix. It's a simple sound, yet for all the novice hallmarks of this album it manages to bestow an elegance in that simplicity as well as near genius in its melodic composition. The magnitude of the riffs is towering, brutal, and primordial while the dexterity displayed in the hooks and simple interludes is addicting. The drummers display a magnificent proficiency of timing, power, and heart. The bass is savage, ruthless, and unyielding in its driving rhythms.

These young musicians seem to be ramping up for a career in the low, dark arts of stoner/doom style music. Their inaugural oblations indicate more brilliance to come if they can manage enough notoriety. Here's to hoping that is indeed their fate, and ours.

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DOUBLE TOKE: The Darts - Self-Titled LP / Mad Monkees - Self-Titled LP

I have 2 artists' works to share with you today, so this'll be two Quick Hits in one, which surely can be classified as a double toke, right? The theme today is a punky, garage-y, grungey assault with stoner rock fuzz bombs.



When I listen to The Darts I envision uber-slick rockers from somewhere in Britain, but these nimble rock warriors hail instead from Phoenix and Los Angeles. They display the full battery of stoner assault weaponry with a relentless bass, massive drums, and gargantuan guitar, blasting missiles of massive fuzz, but what sets them apart are the blitzkrieg of vocals from each of the four band members and the razor sharp melodies upon which the assault is laid. It's a formidable vehicle upon which is built an array of quality pieces, all of it erupting with heart and sweat and not a little bit of innate ability, making for music that is thoroughly pleasurable, deeply satisfying, and massively fun.

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Hailing from Fortaleza, Brazil this band of four very special primates delivers a whopping load of fuzz and fun on their self-titled LP, released a year and a half after their self-titled EP. If you're coming across these high octane rockers for the first time then together the EP and LP offer up 14 roaring tracks of imaginative assonance, designed to be played in the loudest mode you can muster.

bandcamp ... facebook ... website ... reverbnation ... instagram ... youtube

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Band Submission: Zodiac Bash-Psychedelic Space Rock From Phoenix, Arizona

Band Name: Zodiac Bash
Genre: Psychedelic Space Rock
Location: Phoenix, Arizona
Brief Bio/Description: Space needed a soundtrack. We're psychedelic rock with teeth. Influences range from Led Zeppelin to the Mars Volta and Zach Hill.
Band Members:
Patro Gaston- Keys/Vocals/Songwriting
Ari Leopold - Drums/Engineering
Ben Foos - Bass
Ben Fuqua - Guitar/Noises
Links: Website | Facebook | Spotify

Sunday Sludge: Twingiant - "Devil Down"

Late in 2013, my five year-old son fell in love with Hot For Teacher when it aired on local rock radio. Figuring this could serve as an appropriate funnel into a larger, clearer picture of rock music, I purchased The Best of Both Worlds, Van Halen's over-inflated jumble that moves from brilliant to painful in-between songs. My kids quickly dismissed 34 of the 36 tracks, and shifting to Sabbath and AC/DC has yet to yield positive results. I was once told that Alexander may be the best all-purpose male name, whether placed first, last, or as part of a middle name. But figuring Van Halen to be the best all-purpose (amusing, albeit vanilla) rock band proved I still have some work to do.

Two of Van Halen's covers on that compilation sprung from 1982's Diver Down, arguably the band's most difficult material to digest. But Perhaps Phoenix stoner-sludgers Twingiant are big fans, considering the visual parallels offered by Devil Down, the band's excellent 2nd full-length. The front and back covers mimic Diver Down's format, and both albums feature three instrumental tracks. Fortunately for Twingiant, that's where the parallels end. Devil Down's seven tracks wrap us in fuzzy riffs and effortlessly saunter between rock and metal on a path blurred with cosmic dust.

The album's three instrumental tracks soothe and envelop, looming with distant plucks and leaving behind a pleasant trail of melody. Old Hag is steady, cathartic, and provides a perfect introduction to Twingiant's stoner-buzz nebula. Fuzz oozes and coats our itching craws, expanding on guitar noodles toward a closing sludge push. The huge, punchy hum on Under a Blood Moon buries us, and we can only smile. Swarms of guitar brilliance characterize Through the Motions, balancing clean licks and bristling riffs. The backdrop of sky-shot track marks builds on the foundation of heaviness and we begin wishing we never find our way back.

Dead to Rights is a quick stoner-sludge romp highlighting the band's brand of focused freedom to do whatever they choose. Brash and self-assured, Jarrod's vocal enters to complement splitting guitars on a steadily progressive spiral toward the sun. As lights begin to dim, Daisy Cutter emerges on a low-burning thickness opened up by powerful, straightforward rock licks. It's harmonized and meticulously crafted, breaking into characteristic plucks staring into the past. When the clouds break, sludge flows freely and we again enjoy a tingle at the base of our skulls.

The closing title track is the disc's longest, and likely its most encompassing in terms of stoner and sludge metal tags. There's a bit more violence here, interrupting a brilliant calm and entering a buoyant, drawn-and-quartered swing against a tapestry of matted fur. The ominous gait ties-in to sludge vitriol, and we're carried home atop trademark chalky, sandy licks directed at the heavens. All we can do now is cruise and take in the twilight.

Devil Down provided me with a reality check, being that I crafted my list of 2014's favorites without having heard this album. Twingiant ease in and gradually throw back, introducing a sooty reality laced with surges, fades, and swoons. The detours are sticky and consoling, reflecting the band's commitment to finding harmony between evolution and allegiance. These seven tracks are distinctly Twingiant, but they're also fresh and dynamic. The sounds are never lost in the dust, never stuck in the mud, and never too high to die. And you may never want to stop listening.

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Sunday Split: Goya / Wounded Giant

Enough of the leftovers. I've gorged myself into a turkey-hash and cranberry coma over the course of three days, placing me in perfect position to try something new, fresh, and (as luck would have it) fucking sinister. I don't feature many splits on these Sundays, primarily because so many end up featuring (heads:) one band's best effort and (tails:) another's obligatory toss-off. But pair two left coast stoner-doom titans and you've piqued my interest.

"In ancient Rome, there was a poem... About a dog who had two bones. He picked at one, he licked the other... He went in circles 'til he dropped dead." 

Come 2015, STB Records will release a split LP tandem featuring Phoenix's Goya and Seattle's Wounded Giant, certifiably cementing both acts as forces in a riffed landscape of dust and sand. After one spin, you'll struggle to decide which act deserves the first nod toward another listen. It really doesn't matter, so long as you make no haste. I do my best to be cerebral and offer poignant, insightful perspectives on the sounds sent my way. But these three tracks kicked in my teeth and made my hands shake, rendering me damn-near unable to even grip a knob to elevate the decibels.

First consider Goya's fourteen-tick No Place In The Sky, shelling their own weed-doom blitz while staying true to the form evident on last year's crushing 777. This opener immediately drips with hovering fuzz, masking a patient riff-mist and snagging reluctant drums for the ride-along. In hindsight, it's deceptive considering the full-brunt drop of doom ushered in by the succession of relentless blows. As riffs manipulate a canopy of smoke, Jeff Owens' vocal is haunted by its own shadow and stalked by his fractured fret licks. Beyond the midpoint, his guitar cracks what's disheartening and desolate by imposing blisters you'll never let heal. The rhythmic churn never loses steam behind Nick Lose and Chad Moline, slow-rolling toward an acceptance of fate. Short of a few brief, sporadic firings, the ungodly stagger leaves us peeling at our own hot skin, barely seeking sense in this teeming pool. Fourteen minutes? I'd let this one glaze me for fourteen days.

Flip the wax and you'll find Wounded Giant's one-two, led by The Room Of The Torch. Juxtaposing side one as more than a shade quicker, the track is no less imposing. Bathed in hot shit but looking toward a fading sun, these sludge rhythms give way to doom sensibilities. As a ritualistic gathering appears imminent, listeners are quickly pulled back into dragged-knuckle cruises and coated with skin-tingling sustain. Strap in and hold on as we quickly convert to unhinged stoner acceleration. Psychedelia saturates as we dig into a steamy swamp escape that's as deceptive as it is delicious.

Swaying and swinging with concrete fists is Dystheist, the split's epic closing coup. If this giant's wounded, he's hardly fucking bothered by it. Distant hover is merely a harbinger of the settling spook and ethereal pipes brought by Bobby James. Riff tarps wrap and suffocate atop a sticky, malevolent tempo led by Alex Bytnar's punchy charges. This track, boiled down to terms your haze can understand, is an embrace of the negative. Wounded Giant's unmistakable 70's salute remains in their back pocket, but the swirls toward an epic closing storm of exploding light marks a stomp apart from their brilliant Lightning Medicine.

You're wasting your time in search of another split this complete. Goya and Wounded Giant each bark their case as the marquee act. But clearly, both trios commit to embrace the other and peer downhill at the devastation they've collectively scattered behind them. Perhaps these three tracks can finally provide your mom with enough worry to simply leave you alone in the basement rather than investigate that skunky waft. If you've made it this far, she knows she's lost you. STB is only churning 430 of these on wax. I know you're weary, but try acting fast.

Specs:

Released January 3rd, 2015

Limited vinyl pressing of 430

Die Hard Edition - 80 pieces
Band Only - 100 pieces
OBI Series - 100 pieces
Not-So Standard Edition - 150 pieces

Mastered specifically for vinyl

Exclusive artwork done by David Paul Seymour

STB Records | Facebook | STB Bandcamp

And in the meantime...

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Sunday Sludge: Sorxe - "Surrounded By Shadows"

"He gave off a lot of magic. But he was sort of a changeling. He seemed to change every time I saw him. He seemed ageless..."

Squeaky Fromme isn't exactly the barometer for outling philosophical conceptions of higher beings, and perhaps she and Charlie Manson have no place whatsoever on this blog. But her quote has always stuck with me, standing out from Bugliosi's Helter Skelter as the perfect characterization of a man wearing countless faces. Don't get me wrong, his approach didn't exactly work in a society demanding order, reason, and common interaction. But he managed to get some ordinary Janes to do some crazy shit.

Immersed in Surrounded By Shadows, the latest from Phoenix-based sludgers Sorxe, I just couldn't let that "changeling" term escape. You might say these nine tracks collectively diagnose a mood disorder, but that'd unfairly detract from the quartet's deft placement of note, progression, track... There's coiled angst, swollen intermissions, elemental showcases from every corner, and ultimately an all-encompassing experience pushing and pulling in more directions than we knew existed. Sorxe funnel their personalities into one supremely commanding heave.

Immediately evident among the gargantuan buzz of Steamroller is a head-first riff clinic. Canyon-wide vocals swathe those repeated thumps, but the band won't hesitate to tap those rusty brakes. Hooded chants encroach and introduce a womb-like ease, but we're abruptly unsettled as the buzz returns. Oh, but are we talking about mere movements and tempo shifts? Not exactly.

A vocal identity crisis reveals itself on Her Majesty, but the ease in moving between jarring and jagged to cool, ethereal tip-toeing is a marvel in itself. Cosmic low-end thumbings wreathe a dying fire, but licks eject in every direction just in time. The swell into a primitive march, however, when immediately met with the spiral into chaotic rhythmic explosion, is just beginning to illustrate today's entire thesis. At varying levels, Sorxe flatten landscapes and abruptly rip us from the grips of comfort.

Smoke Signals' progressions have their low-tide origins, but the static storms promise destructive cascades of slow-motion horror. This nine-minute, ever-expanding instrumental stoner session crushes at its midpoint, steadily thrusting into a spiraling monsoon and marrying punishing skins and fleeting fretwork. Spacing into Make It So, we're knee-deep in the disc's most formidable of tandems. Bursts of violence juxtapose Smoke Signals' cool passages, churning and spitting angst before growing to a tapered purr. Each slow breath bloats, though, assuring relapse with a hazy, early-morning march. Sure enough, we're abruptly slapped with hot-acid guitar amid organized chants. I'd swear these sounds have been watching me for years.

Sorxe reserved their crowning achievement for the thick, untouched scope demonstrated on the album's closing track, The Mountain Man. With progressions patient and churns simply sludgy, this awesome exercise ushers in vocal waves atop undeniably blistering guitar licks. Boasted as the album's coolest song, Sorxe hit every soft turn and sharp hook with an incredible balance. They've more than delivered on their promise of devastation.

So many bands dishonor their ambitions by over-inflating and doing too much with too little. Sorxe clearly have the stones to throw their best clubbed-foot forward, but they also exploit their strengths. I could speak all day about the pedigree of the band members or craft thousands of paragraphs on why this album fucking slays. Surrounded By Shadows is, quite simply, exhaustingly complete. Gradually or suddenly, Sorxe unfurl coiled force and chew through 2014's best releases. This is a changeling you can welcome into your home, but that won't stop them from shoving a carving fork into your belly.

For fans of: Yob, TOAD, Zoroaster
Pair with: Circus Boy, Magic Hat Brewing Company

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Sunday Sludge: Ladybird

Better late than never? The landlord won't let you get away with that shit, man. He also can't stand all the complaining from your neighbors upstairs. The knocks couldn't disrupt your weed coma, he can't collect, and the fuzz from below ain't exactly keepin' Bruce's feet warm. I spent a bit too much time livin' the high life and now it's just me and a few dusty records sorting out ends and pieces.

2013 is gone, but look what just fell outta my pocket. Phoenix trio Ladybird released a pair of puffed-out albums that display their range and their hazy focus. It took damn near a half-year, but I was... uh, busy. Offering spacey psych on Spliff & Wesson and hillbilly doom on Tombstoned, Ladybird may be the most prolific riff-wringing band you haven't heard. I hope you brought snacks; ah, Saladitos! Perfecto.

I wasn't sure where to start, and it probably doesn't matter. Spliff & Wesson is the tandem's cosmic haze, echoing with pans and warbles for twenty-four minutes of long drags. Numbness creeps in and your ears are gonna itch from the collected fuzz, progressively lumbering upward and outward. The growl revealed between shrill, spiking stalagmite licks rips with malevolence, so when you flip the cassette to Nossew & Ffilps, you'd better make sure the balance of your buzz doesn't rest on paranoia. Yes, you knew this would happen. Ladybird eliminated the dirty work for us and flipped their psychedelic stoner-doom square on its ass. And it's awesome.  

When you're ready to come down, have a seat with Tombstoned's Intro, a bayou-plucked reprieve that's wholly misleading. Five and a half clicks is hardly enough time to clean up, but it's reflective, soothing, and clear by comparison. Weedy doom rolls in on Papers, crashing through your trailer wall like a jilted lover after uncovering the truth. The drone tapestry shakes with every interruptive riff, and Ladybird strike hard and often. Repetitive, reverberative riffage introduces the crushing No Reason, a blow after blow punishment for the glutton. There's even an astral nod to S&W, glowing through bed sheet window treatments until the furry beast returns. Ending your trip with the twenty-two minute Marble Orchard may be the best or worst decision you'll make today. Doom landmines are promised at every step, so steady your stare and tread lightly.

You're gonna have fun with these releases. You'll discover occasional parallels, and Ladybird's divergent paths hardly pose a red pill/blue pill dilemma. Shit, take 'em both. Just know your limits and don't test them. If you've got the time, you'll have fun tackling both Spliff & Wesson and Tombstoned on a Sunday drive. And if you've lost your steam, put Ladybird's leftovers in the fridge and enjoy them tomorrow. Heavy Planet honors and showcases stoner rock, doom metal, sludge metal, and psychedelia. Sounds like Ladybird fucking nailed it!

For fans of: Weedeater, Sleep, Salem's Pot
Pair with: Raison D'Etre, Dogfish Head Craft Brewery

Facebook | S&W Bandcamp | 'Stoned Bandcamp

Sunday Sludge: :TWiNGiANT: - "Sin Nombre"

Here we go again. Another Sunday nod to the southwest and another dick-sucking diatribe. Huddled in my Midwest den of splintered wood paneling and light-years away from a scene where anything interesting happens, it's no wonder I fantasize about palm trees, sweet tea & gravy, or the Rocky Mountains. But there's something cosmic and transcendentally jaw-dropping about the sounds lately expelling from Arizona. I won't pretend this is the last you'll hear about it.

Smack in the thick of things is Phoenix's :TWiNGiANT:, a band formidably cementing their capacity as the rotting apple of Heavy Planet's lazy eye. Their 2012 effort, Mass Driver, found itself on countless year-end best-of lists, dropping relentless stoner-sludge clout and countering the mire with space-driven passages fit for a junkie cosmonaut. On Sin Nombre, :TWiNGiANT: refasten the sticky sweetness and bounce between mossy planets with cocksure dynamics and perfectly-timed shifts. Contrasting what's under our feet with what's over our heads is merely kicking at loose stones; this five-track shifter is what Mom really wants.

Rolling out with steady chug and churn, Pelisneros submits to cool stoner-fuzz riffs, spit atop a bouncy wave of bass before funneling into righteous, matted sludge. Jarrod marches in like he owns the fuckin' place while smooth plucks counter the murky collisions. But good luck not getting snagged on Richard Kuklinski's somber reflections. The Iceman's primitive perspective amplifies the track's simmering closing passage, a provocative haze perfectly punctuated by Jeff's bony thumps.

The balance of stone-cruisers and sludge descent is :TWiNGiANT:'s bread and duck-butter, but Fossilized's cool roll, dense with cymbals and mosquitoes, shifts into unconventional structures. Choppy and jarring, this fuzz-puddle heads the transmission with abandon. Warble sews up the very wounds it inflicted, all the while that sludge finds its way under your door and throws the track onto it's back. Not a moment is wasted, and the cadence stuck in your brain is your only companion on this barren-canyon stumble.

La Haine dusts off and immediately throws down, slowly slugging but abruptly peppering fits of spunk and spurt. The rubbernecked sludge welcomes the smooth, thick bass ribbon as everything within an arm's reach is absorbed and eaten by licking flames. Following an awesome jostle is the collapse to catch rusty breaths and tormented assertions. This is the disc's impressive run of the gamut, a panoramic collective of shifted rhythms that impossibly battle and betroth. Cloaked in Black is as spacey and steamy as anything the band's released, blending the promise of escape with the realization of permanence. The bouncing buzz of sludge pauses and looks about, however, before boiling down to bayou blues riffs. Bones soften and tissue separates as the track steadfastly cruises toward a return to a staggering spiral. Goddamn, they did it again!

There's a detectable wave of melancholy strung throughout Sin Nombre, coming to a hilt on Ricky X R.I.P. Wreckage Metal Radio has had :TWiNGiANT:'s mark as much as anyone, so paying homage to Tempe's late Ricky Martinez is Sin Nombre's logical denouement. Evident in both their sound and their approach, it's clear :TWiNGiANT: know where they've come from and where they're going.

What can Heavy Planet say about :TWiNGiANT: that we haven't already? With an expansive and expanding sound that somehow holds true to the band's 2010 inception, all we can really do is hope the band continues plugging and churning out genre-bending releases. Sin Nombre, on one hand, sounds like an album that spans a lifetime and packs it with the highs and lows of human experience. On the other hand, however, we can't help but hope they greet us with another release as soon as possible.

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New Band To Burn One To: GOYA

HEAVY PLANET presents...

BAND BIO:

Goya is a stoner doom metal three piece from Phoenix, Arizona. They started playing shows in April and released their demo in September. Consisting of members of various Phoenix area metal and punk bands, they enjoy smoking reefer, turning their amps all the way up and contemplating the end the universe.

Jeff Owens - vocals, guitar

Shane Taylor - drums

Jirix-mie Paz - bass

THOUGHTS:

"Crumbling the Earth below comes the behemoth sounds of Phoenix Stoner/Doom band Goya. The band packs a ton of  righteous riffage into their latest self-titled demo. DIY production lends to the stripped down sound. The songs are for the most part slow, loud and heavy. Just the way I like it! The demo starts off with "God Lie", a furious blast of metal and settles nicely into a sweet doom groove. The timely usage of feedback on "Mourning Sun" sends chills through your spine , but the unnerving feeling ends once the first punishing riff rattles your skull. The riffs constantly wallow and bend into a devastating power chord as the drums keep the steady snail-paced rhythm on the 11-plus minute closer "Night Creeps". This is a thrilling demo from these desert doomsters in the vein of Electric Wizard and Sleep. Take a listen and then chuck a few bucks for the demo on Bandcamp".

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Review: Summoner - Phoenix

The band formerly known as Riff Cannon now goes by Summoner, a four member group from Boston, Massachusetts, a town known to spawn a rock band or two over the years. Summoner consists of the same 4 members of Riff Cannon: AJ Peters on Guitar, Joe Richner on Guitar, Scott Smith on Drums, and Chris Johnson pulling doulble duty on Bass and Vocals.

Summoner have just released the second full length album by this group of 4 gifted rockers, a collection of stoner rock gems by the name of “Phoenix”. “Phoenix” is an album that fits quite nicely into the classifications used for the progenitors of desert rock or stoner metal such as Kyuss or Sleep because Summoner certainly hit their notes, crank their riffs, and grab you hard with fuzzed out hooks that not only are identified by those genres, but expand the genre’s definition. This is due to the high quality music arranged and offered for the fortunate few who follow this wonderful style of metal.

Summoner not only is a departure in name from their first iteration as Riff Cannon, but a departure as well in the musical offerings on the associated albums. Instead of trying to outdo themselves on an album that would be quite difficult to top, Summoner decided to go in a slightly different direction.

Riff Cannon, true to its name, could be characterized by the hard hitting fuzz assault of the majority of songs on the “Mercury Mountain” collection, while the new name, Summoner, perhaps conjures up a more mystical tone. “Phoenix” certainly follows through on that promise with songs that tell a tale straight from the murky mists of the minds and imaginations of Robert E. Howard or Edgar Rice Burroughs, songs that could well accompany many of the muscular fantasies represented in the paintings of Frank Frazetta or Boris Valejo.

“Phoenix has as much to offer as an album can offer in terms of content and quality. Each song is highly crafted and deftly executed, full and rich in structure, intelligent in design, and crafted to reveal wonderful nuances or hidden pearls with each journey through the magical realms conjured forth on the music and in the lyrics. Summoner have gone beyond merely making a good stoner album by crafting a fine piece of high musical quality that is all the more delightful in the execution of those distorted guitars, pounding, thumping bass chords, and the ever present and primal rhythm of the drums, keeping the pace steady and constant throughout each jewel of a song.

The album starts with perhaps its hardest hitting piece, “The Interloper”, a song that rivals the best of past or present stoner rock offerings, a song that Sasquatch would be proud to play, or Dozer would have to stop and wonder if it had been one of their own, while still retaining its unique sound and quality that can only be attributed to Summoner themselves.

The album moves into “Winged Hessians”, a title alone that deserves reflection and perhaps a tip of the hat. The song drives hard, deliberate in execution, and wonderful in fullness of instrumentation. Just as with all the songs on this album, the guitars perform wonderful interludes and riffs, moving from solo like wailings into heavier, deeper fuzziness, while setting the tone for a mystical journey to follow.

Next up is “Conjuring”, a faster paced offering, deep and deadly with its guitars, driving hard and low, changing up just enough to captivate and lull you into euphoria and bliss. There is lots to discover on this song with each and every listen, lots to enjoy each time you let its fantasy tale course through the music receptors of your brain.

“Let the Light In” begins slow and deliberate, a simple guitar playing a lonely tune before being joined by its gifted brother guitar, stark and light in their offering, haunting in their melody before moving in and out of short intervals of stoner psychedelica where urgency is the order for a brief time before returning to the haunted vocals of the teller of the tale. This song has a great haunting quality in the playing of the guitars, and the measured pacing of the drums and bass, punctuated by the near melancholy nature of the vocals, while moving in and out of periods of hard driving distortion throughout the song, taking you on quite a long and satisfying journey.

The title track, “Phoenix”, is another in the pantheon of haunting and wonderfully executed melodies full of quality interludes of fuzz and psychedelica. The vocals are full and insistent here, adding to the telling of the tale in a slightly new way by taking a more active role at the forefront of the song while never sacrificing those wonderful guitars. This is another long and wonderful journey through space and time, taking you where only songs of this quality can go.

“Across Iron Fields” returns to the harder driving guitars of the earlier songs, cranking out the voltage and distortion of fuzzed out hooks and riffs that display the telltale sound of stoner rock, while keeping to the haunting tale unfolding throughout.

The penultimate song, “Reclaimer”, gives testament to Summoner’s ability as artists of high quality by offering at the outset something a little fresher, slightly different from the previous songs, while still adhering to the overall cryptic atmosphere of the tale being told throughout the journey. It begins light and mystical, moving into brief interludes of power fuzz, before reclaiming the haunting method originally displayed at the outset of the song.

The coda, the end of the tale, is the wonderful, haunting, and powerful “Dead Moon” where Summoner execute riffs and hooks summoned from the mists and depths of the ashes left over from the hotly burning songs that led us on this mystical, fantastic journey of sound and wonderment.

This is a haunting and powerful collection of terrific stoner/fuzz tunes of the absolute highest quality, something crafted carefully over time with thought and skill, and executed with passion and sincerity, adhering to the unspoken rules of the stoner rock genre while creating a unique and special compilation.





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New Band To Burn One To: TWIN GIANT

TWIN GIANT are today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO".

Bio:

TWiNGiANT: formed in the Spring of 2010 to fulfill the band members' desire to play loud-as-shit droney music. The band is currently getting shows booked , drinking, blowing out their eardrums, and saving up to record an EP.

"Two things are abundantly clear about Phoenix-based band Twin Giant: they are mighty generous and they are loud as fuck! The reason I say mighty generous is that I received a package in the mail the other day from the band with a beer koozie in it. Thanks for that. It will be put to good use. Now on with the music. Like I said before this band is loud. Their gigantic sound is the backdrop to the Tale of the Space Hobo...[The Space Hobo is a drifter – a derelict. Drunk and disheveled. An old Galactic Marine veteran who fought in the 2nd Milky Way rebellion. He sleeps on benches, pushes around hovercarts, buys forties using galactic credits he pan-handles from the repulsed aliens.] Nice!...Caught in a whirlwind of galactic sludge, the vocals monstrously bark as the thick stoner groove snaps at your heels. Plea to the band...more music please."

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