Windhand
Soma

THE REVIEW

Surely the catatonic female voices are what have endeared me to some of these tracks, and happily, I don't deny some similarities with Acid King, because this has never primarily sent me back to Busse Woods with a resounding and derriere-kicking: Soma worthily stirs music in this now well-known broth of jujube.

Orchard
Woodbine

The cover helps, music that would lend itself well to being listened to in an old cave facing walls of trees; moreover, it’s been October for a few days now, and I can picture a forest smiling like the Mona Lisa with teeth falling like leaves in autumn; a memorabilia catalog record for certain slowed sounds: if present, the tonal variations are infinitesimal along the route, the cautious Evergreen exemplifies this, but it's like having reached the ridge only to slide down upon arrival, and you roll more than you climb, given that from the acoustic climax the sign still points over 40 km; anything but languid, the distortions flow like magma in the closing track and perhaps without perhaps give the idea of a mega-grandiose redundant closure, in the manner of a beast of burden; and that can fit, I would add.

Boleskine

However, aside from the mythical namesakes of Ricky Kasso, the journey includes tasty psychedelic snacks among various associations with Sleep, Conan, and Cough, to name a few; vibrant, laid-back, overdubbed voices, reverberant solos, and saying it like this, it seems like you’re always there, but probably for the genre, it can be appreciable even if you lack a metallic residency; and for those who, unfortunately or fortunately, often stroll in nostalgia, certain music is somewhat the ethereal pavilion. In the last decade of doom certainly a noteworthy album.

LP