New Band To Burn One To (Morning Buzz): VALLEY OF THE SUN

VALLEY OF THE SUN is today's "NEW BAND TO BURN ONE TO" Morning Buzz...

Bio:

There is a smoldering hotbed of Rock and Roll in the most unlikely of places; Ohio. Some time ago, the Devil came to sew his seed throughout the state leaving every city with it’s own High Priests of Hellish Riffs. The congregation of Cincinnati’s Church of Rock and Roll is watched over by Valley of the Sun, and a well tended flock they are. Riff after righteous riff is thrown from the pulpit with the fury of fire and brimstone, so come out to the Rock and Roll Revival , bring your offering and prepare to be anointed!

"Back in November of 2010 I wrote up a feature on a band called Valley of the Sun from Cincinnati, Ohio. Since that time the band has garnered some serious recognition around the world. The band was most recently chosen as an opening band for select dates on Sweden's Truckfighters first ever U.S. tour.

The band has recently released a new EP "The Sayings of the Seers" on their Bandcamp site. This is one of the most fierce releases I have heard in a while."

"I will first off start out by saying that I believe this to be at the top of my list of best releases of the year even though it is only an EP. Valley of the Sun seemlessly blends blistering stoner grooves, stellar musicianship, and high energy low and high dynamics to their amazing sound. Oh, and did I mention that Ryan Ferrier may quite possibly be the best vocalist I've heard since Miles Kennedy and Chris Cornell. From the unmatched soaring vocal harmonies of opener "Hearts Aflame" , the epicness of  "Mariner's Tales" to the steam rolling groove of "Deep Light Burns", Cincinnati's Valley of the Sun is a well-polished band that is ready to be singed into your brain. "

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Sunday Sludge: Brainoil - Death of This Dry Season

You wouldn't think seven slivers of sludge euphoria could squeeze themselves into a 25-minute album, but today's featured artist is happy to shatter your expectations. Brainoil began poisoning the public in 2000 with their own brand of uniquely brief grime after band members cut their teeth with other endeavors like Stormcrow, Laudanum, and Grimple. Their most recent contribution to the genre channels not only their slimy sludge predecessors, but also the punk scene that has given Oakland a little something to look forward to more than the next Al Davis disaster.

Death of This Dry Season is perhaps the shortest sludge album you'll ever hear, though these 25 minutes manage to leave listeners caked and stunned with feedback and shifting rhythms. The title track boasts a low rumble that grabs you by the hair and shakes your brain into delirium. Guitars rollick through a swamp until a rainstorm hits, causing a slip down a muddy hill. Greg Wilkinson's bass guides us with bouncy hooks until a feedback fadeout gives us time to wipe mud from our eyes.

The murderous romp of Gravity is a Relic leaves behind chainsaw melodies as they echo in backwoods timber. The punk cadence is swallowed by true sludge groove, slowing to a crawl under barbed wire as sweat drips down the backs of the bruised. Opaque Reflections thickens and squares the brief fade-in screech, with wet and dirty vocals balancing Nathan Smith's fuzzy chops. Pit bulls chase through backyards as you shit your pants and welcome the track's abrupt close.

Don't confuse what you're hearing with the pedestrian thrash of Municipal Waste or Lamb of God (I said it). Rhythms ignite on Feet Cling to the Rotting Soil and Crimson Shadows, though the dirt shines through bulldozed pauses and buzzsaw guitars. Ira Harris's drums grow almost militant and Brainoil stay greasy with reverb and gnawed faces. The punk/thrash elements return, but you're too beaten with shrapnel to raise any complaints.

Rising filth and chafed growls set the pace for To Bury the Pages of Existence, which manages to sound far more idle than its 2:10 track time may suggest; proof that time restraints provide nothing but confusion and myth. Death of This Dry Season wraps up with The Beauty of Death, with hollow guitar hum and tub thumps more patient than good parents. Bass sinks and welcomes a spooky fadeout that one can only hope is a gesture of mocking.

Crud-junkies could easily dismiss Death of This Dry Season based solely on superficial properties. Don't fall for it. Think of this as a sludge-punk quickie, providing just enough sluggishness to get you through a brief tour of your couch cushions. If you don't quite feel like getting off your ass just yet, hit repeat... and rub rheum from your eyes before realizing you're due in court in fifteen minutes. These songs bring enough scorch to get you there just in time.




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