#not like solid headbanging or whatever but like. there is just. a Beat. to this section.

[orcelito]

how to show your new database management project group that you are a Totally normal and sane and constructive student:

listen to this song on repeat for Hours on a monday night

im just Winning at being #Normal

[doomedandstoned]

Enchanted Paris Doom Trio WITCHORIOUS Premieres Astounding Full-Length

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

By Billy Goate

This debut LP by WITCHORIOUS is without doubt one of the finest doom metal offerings the year has given us. Antoine Auclair (guitar/vocals), Lucie Gaget (bass/vocals), and Paul Gaget (drums) have assembled a thoughtful collection of 10 tracks that draw upon the themes of classic horror and traditional doom metal, with prolific drumming, sinister guitar, and surreal atmosphere.

We begin with the ominous "Monster," which is surely the musical equivalent to a brooding stormfront. Each instrument brings its unique powers to the whole, generating a menacing sound that got me slow headbanging immediately. Vocals have the same Medieval gruff as classic Morgoth, full of prophetic dread.

The roars of "Catharsis" approach Domkraft levels of fierceness. With male and female vocals in the chorus, the effect is mesmerizing. The track following this is deeply atmospheric, with its fuzz-filled intro and repeated arpeggios forming a thick haze that bedazzles the listener into a strange, trancelike state. Appropriate considering this is "The Witch."

"Blood" is deliriously good. Again the riffs are on point! You'd have to go back to BelzebonG's Sonic Scapes & Weedy Grooves to find riffs this pure. The beat never lets up; it's a steady driver all the way through, keeping the narrative moving forward. Verses feature another lusty vocal performance and the chorus has tons of heart. I was happy there was room for a guitar solo.

"Eternal Night" has an unsettling vibe akin to the band Demon Lung. When the solo erupts towards the end, it sounds like something between a siren and a sax, but it could be a guitar effect or synthesizer. Whatever it is, it's effective in bringing a chilling climax to the moment.

Once again, it's the vocals that make a song like "Sanctuaire" so convincing -- and this is to say nothing of the incredible drumming, subtle basswork, and atmospheric guitar play. Even the sequence of "heys" at 4:31 were dripping with the angst of instability, making me think of Kurt Cobain and Mark Arm.

After a brief interlude ("Amnesia") we're ushered into the album's final three songs. The vocal attack on "Watch Me Die" is just savage, utterly convincing, and the doomy guitar chords match the mood. "To The Grave" is chill by contrast, with acoustic strumming that allow Antoine and Lucy to vary their vocal delivery and range, as they're not competing with loud instruments.

Finally, comes "Why" (the longest track after "Sanctuaire" at 7:20). This one has a grooving bassline, bittersweet riffmaking, slappin' drums, and clear, sincere singing with a certain Ozzyesque mystique. The guitar solo is soulful and grungy with plenty of stoner sway.

Witchorious drops Friday, February 16th on vinyl, CD, and digital via Argonauta Records (get it here). Don't pass this one by! Stick it on a playlist with Amen-Ra, Beastmaker, Lord Vicar, Famyne, and Purple Hill Witch.

Give ear...

SOME BUZZ

Witchorious is a doom metal band from Paris, France. Founded in 2019, the trio is composed of Antoine Auclair (guitar/vocals), and brother and sister Paul (drums) and Lucie (bass/vocals) Gaget. Their first two singles “3 AM” and “Evil Creature” came out of darkness in 2020.

Their music blends bluesy riffs inherited from Black Sabbath, aggressive sounds supported by fuzzy bass lines in the likes of Electric Wizard, and intense atmospheres inspired by bands like Amenra and Mastodon. All this led by adventurous and solid drums, spawning modern chaotic doom metal songs with enraged vocals. Between screams and whispers, Antoine and Lucie’s voices have us travel from incantations to outpouring of despair. Each track will immerse you in the darkness of your mind, where you will keep looking for answers.

Dying to meet their audience, Witchorious played more and more gigs and opened for The Wytches in Paris and Westill Fest in November 2023. Witchorious’s debut album will be released in February 2024 through Italian label Argonauta Records. The album was recorded in Paris at Studio Sainte-Marthe by Francis Caste and contains 10 tracks that address psychic duality, human vice, and the inevitable fate of the world along with hellish fuzzy riffs.

Says the band:

"Initially, after the release of our double single, we were thinking of releasing a first 5-track EP. However, the health crisis dragged on and writing, like most bands, became our main activity. The writing of the album took around two years, with numerous arrangements on the tracks. The initiative for a track usually comes from a guitar riff and the vocals, and then we get together and each of us adds its own touch. We transform the song, the rhythm, its structure, until it sounds ‘Witchorious’. We wanted to create more modern sound and structures to avoid doing doom that we’ve all heard before.

"In the lyrics, we express our frustrations and self-awareness. The album deals with mental conflicts and psychological distress, the influence of human beings on their environment and on others... We were also keen to develop the character of the witch, who for us is a figure that represents oppressed minorities, whatever they may be. The witch frightens, disturbs and revolts, but at the same time fascinates and survives through the ages. We’ve had a lot of fun with the clichés of the genre, particularly around everything religious and satanic, because it creates an occult atmosphere that we love.

"This album is a concentration of our influences, a first step towards showing who we are, what our sound identity is, and what we have to say. By the time the album was recorded, the songs had really matured, and we fully focused on sound and ambiance. Francis helped us emphasize the evil aspect of the compositions, to make the whole thing sound really haunted."

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[stuonsongs]

My Top 10 Favorite Songs of All Time - 2006 Edition

2021 Editor’s Note: I was looking through some old files and found this thing that I wrote sometime in the summer of 2006 at age 22. For all I know, it could’ve been 15 years to the day! Looking back, I’m not sure how many of these songs would still make my top 10. Don’t get me wrong, I still love all of these tunes, but I’m sure you know how it goes - You get older, you get exposed to more things, and your idea of good music expands. Anyway, I thought it might be nice to share with anyone who still uses this site. I present it in its original format without edits to my writing. I ended up writing full posts in this blog about some of these songs if you go through the archive. 

Stu’s Top 10 Favorite Songs…Ever

Let’s start with some honorable mentions. These were so close, and I thought about it for so long, but they had to be left off.

Honorable Mentions

All Summer Long – The Beach Boys

All Summer Long. 1964. Capitol

This song has been described so many times as being “the perfect summer song.” When you listen to it, you can’t help but smile from the opening marimba intro, all the way through. It just screams “summer” and it hurt me to leave The Beach Boys off my top 10.

Bleed American – Jimmy Eat World

Bleed American. 2001. Grand Royal

So full of energy, so rocking, and so what would’ve been the most recent song on my list. I wanted to keep it in the top 10 just so I could have a song from the ‘00s, but it wasn’t meant to be. When the chorus kicks in, I can’t help but headbang.

Marie – Randy Newman

Good Old Boys. 1974. Reprise

Randy has said that a lot of young composers pick “Marie” as their favorite Newman song, and I can see why. The idea of a guy having to be drunk to tell his wife that he loves her is pretty funny, and throughout the whole song it’s just the beautiful melody with tons of strings, all to a tune about a guy ripping on himself as he comes home drunk to his wife.

Does He Love You? – Rilo Kiley

More Adventurous. 2004. Brute/Beaute

I guess this is newer than Bleed American, so it would’ve worked too. This is another more recent song that it killed me to leave off the list. The outro is an arrangement of the main tune with a different chord progression performed by a string quartet. Very beautiful. Also when Jenny Lewis screams “Your husband will never leave you, he will never leave you for me,” I get chills every time.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

So here it is. After a long day’s work, I’m finally finished. It actually turned out much different than I was thinking when I first started. The number one wasn’t really even in my top five when I started, but I slowly realized I loved it so much. I also left Ben Folds (Five) off this list completely, and I don’t know, I just feel the whole catalogue of Ben is so solid, none of the songs stick out to me that much. But anyways, here it is! After the break of course…

Stu’s Top 10

10.

(Love Is Like A) Heat Wave – Martha and the Vandellas

Heat Wave. 1963. Motown.

This one beat out “Bleed American” just barely. The reason being that somehow, despite being nearly 40 years older than Bleed American, it still has so much energy that it kills. Dan Bukvich once told our Jazz Arranging class that you can boil all the oldies you hear on the radio down to three categories: 1) Great Song. 2) Great Performance. 3) Great Arrangement. This song is one of the great performances. The handclaps throughout, combined with the driving baritone sax behind everything and constant snare drum action will keep anybody with blood running through their veins dancing all night long.

9.

Bodhisattva – Steely Dan

Countdown to Ecstasy. 1973. MCA

This song is my Freebird. It’s just a basic blues progression song at its core with some minor changes at the end of the form. The real kicker that drives this song home is the three minute guitar solo in the middle that isn’t nearly as rocking as Freebird, but it is highly proficient and takes me to places that just make me want to play the song over and over again. I have no idea what this song is about, probably Buddhism, but hey, this once again proves that lyrics rarely matter and the music itself is the core.

8.

Zanzibar – Billy Joel

52nd Street. 1978. Columbia

This song reminds me of long car rides on vacations down the west coast with my parents growing up. They used to play a tape of 52nd Street, or at least their favorite selections, constantly on these trips. I didn’t hear this song again until early in my senior year in college and remembered why I loved it so much. The song has a heavy jazz influence, displayed in the breakdown where Jazz trumpeter Freddie Hubbard does a solo. The best part of this song though is at the end of the 4th line of each verse, Billy does this “Woah oh oh!” thing that just makes me want to sing every time. It was between this and “Miami 2017 (Lights Go Out On Broadway)” which is also a great song, but the “Woah oh oh!” is too much for ol’ Stu boy.

7.

Rosalita (Come Out Tonight) – Bruce Springsteen

The Wild, the Innocent, and the E Street Shuffle. 1973. Columbia

Early Bruce Springsteen records have something that very few other artists can ever pull off without sounding cheesy or forced. It has this undeniable sense of urgency, like the world will fall apart and life will crumble through your fingers if this one moment in time doesn’t work out the way Bruce describes it. There are so many early Springsteen songs that just set a scene of “We have to get out of this town right now girl before it kills us, no matter what any of our parents, friends, anybody has to say.” There’s a line that kinda sums it up: “Well hold on tight, stay up all night ‘cause Rosie I’m comin’ on strong. By the time we meet the morning light, I will hold you in my arms. I know a pretty little place in southern California down San Diego way. There’s a little café where they play guitars all night and all day. You can hear ‘em in the back room strummin’, so hold tight baby ‘cause don’t you know daddy’s comin’.”

6.

I’ve Got You Under My Skin – Frank Sinatra

Songs For Swingin’ Lovers! 1956. Capitol

This song falls into the category of great arrangement. This Cole Porter classic tune was arranged for Sinatra by Nelson Riddle. The story goes that he was still copying down parts for the players while riding in the cab to the recording studio on the day of recording. After the players ran through it once with Frank, they stood up and applauded. The Baritone sax takes control here, outlining a Db6/9 chord throughout the intro. Of course, Frank’s vocal delivery is spot on and goes up and down in all the right places for the biggest emotion impact. It’s amazing how a song with no real chorus can be so good.

5.

A Change Is Gonna Come – Sam Cooke

Ain’t That Good News. 1964. RCA Victor

This song was not even going to be on this list, but then I ran across it while scouring my collection of music and remembered how good it was. Then I listened to it and was blown away by the level of detail that went into this arrangement. Sam’s vocals soar above the mind blowingly beautiful arrangement. The lyrics to this one actually add to the tune itself, speaking of wrongdoings in the world around him, and how social change is on its way in the form of the civil rights movement. The song flows with such ease out of Cooke that one might forget the weightiness of the content, but the song’s content is just so heavy that it’s impossible to deny it.

4.

Whatever – Oasis

Whatever EP. 1994. Creation

This song was released as a Christmas present to the U.K. from the Gallagher brothers and company. It never appeared on any full album, only being released as a single, and amazingly, it blows away anything else they’ve ever done. Think “All You Need Is Love,” but with tons of rocking energy and a snide, nonchalant attitude. The chorus speaks, “I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I choose and I’ll sing the blues if I want. I’m free to be whatever I, whatever I like, if it’s wrong or right, it’s alright.” Not exactly poetry, and the song isn’t exactly breaking any new ground either, but the song is absolutely perfect in every way, and it was going to be my #1, but perhaps the only reason it’s not at number one is because I’ve played this song so many times that at the moment, these next three are beating it, but who knows how I’ll feel in a few months. This song also pulls the same “outro performed by a string quartet” thing as “Does He Love You?” but even better. It’s so simple, but I can’t get enough of it.

3.

Mr. Blue Sky – Electric Light Orchestra

Out of the Blue. 1977. Jet

This is obviously the best Beatles song that the Beatles never wrote. The staccato guitar during the verse combined with the strings present in just about every ELO song combine to make a force that is undeniably catchy and musically challenging at the same time. This is really what makes ELO so good. I didn’t discover this song till probably Nov. 2005, and it was one of the best days of my life. I didn’t want to include two songs by the same artist in my top 10, but if I did, I probably would’ve added “Turn To Stone” on this list too because it is almost as awesome as this one. It’s a shame that just like Billy Joel, most critics at the time hated ELO for being overly creative musically (they called it pretentiousness). These days we have acts that really are pretentious (see Radiohead), but everyone loves them, even critics. I’m not knocking all Radiohead, just most everything post OK Computer. Sorry, got a little sidetracked there.

2.

Only In Dreams – Weezer

Weezer. 1994. Geffen

This has been my favorite Weezer song since about a month into me picking up Weezer’s debut album back around early 2000. It has this ostinato (a repeated motif over and over again) in the bass throughout most of the whole song, never even really resolving to the Gb major chord (excluding chorus, which never really resolves) that it wants to until the end of a 3 minute contrapuntal guitar duet when everything dies out except the bass which just retards on its own until it finally plays the single Gb we’ve all been waiting for. The song on the whole up until the guitar duet is pretty tame, but once those contrapuntal guitar lines start intertwining, my ears perk up every time. I can sing both lines at separate times upon request and when the drums finally kick back in fully at the climax of the song, I let out a sigh of relief or bang on my car wheel in exultant joy, whichever is more of an option at the time.

1.

All Is Forgiven – Jellyfish

Spilt Milk. 1993. Charisma

I always loved this song from the first time I heard it, but I didn’t realize how much I loved it until maybe April 2006. I found out about Jellyfish first semester of college in the Fall of ’02 and heard this song, and knew it was great. The constant tom-tom driven drums, the fuzzy, almost white noise distorted guitar, and the half time bass throughout. It was great. Then in April I put it on my mp3 player for the walk to school, and then I listened to it for about two weeks straight. Seriously. It runs into the next song entitled “Russian Hill” which is almost as good, but because it’s a separate song, I couldn’t include it on the list, but in my mind, they always run together and are basically one long 9 minute song. The ending just gets more and more white noise filled until you can barely take it anymore and then it just cuts off completely into the slow acoustic intro for Russian Hill. It’s perfect in every way. I think this would fall into the category of great song. And the way the song builds up right to the middle of the song and then cuts out completely except for some very VERY faint xylophone noodling, and then busts back in with some feedback directly into guitar solo. Man I love this song.

[mcfanely]

Nightowls

With suspicions about Cole’s well-being becoming apparent during an awkward conversation with Kai, to Chamille trying to convince him to do more than just stand around and watch other dancers at the studio; Cole finds has a lot to think about.

Chapter 03 - Lack of Sleep and Reluctant Ideas, 3093 words

Cole was usually good at pacing himself. 

He was good at knowing his limits, knowing when he was getting too tired or too worn down. 

He knew if he was pushing training too hard, or if he was doing too much during the day and needed a rest. It hadn't really occurred to him that having a busy day and then spending most of the night out at a dance studio would catch up on him, but it did. 

He'd slept solidly through a full night for once, something which had been happening more and more lately. No interruptions, no jarring awake at a god-awful time in the morning with heart palpitations and a cold sweat. For once when his eyes opened and were met with a beam of sunlight drifting directly through his window, he was wide awake. No drifting between sleep, no 'five more minutes'. Cole was up and ready to go with his day. 

Only, when he got dressed and headed out for training, fastening his gi a little tighter around his waist as he left his room, he passed by Kai heading the opposite way to the training area. 

He received a raised eyebrow from the fire ninja when he said, "Morning, who else is up?" 

"Try everyone." Kai replied, stopping in his walk and leaning against the wall on the other side of the hallway. "You're the last one up, which is probably a first."

Cole's eyes widened a fraction, "Jay got up before me?"

"Yeah, like, two hours ago."

"I- what?" His confusion shifted into more of a frown, which only served to draw out a slight laugh from the other. 

"Dude, it's past noon. You slept through the whole morning."

"I--" Cole faltered, then looked around the hallway. There was a clock on the wall, he knew there was. There was an alarm clock in his room too, had he really not checked it? Had he just woken up, gone through the motions and not looked at the time? 

How had he not checked it? 

Cole eventually located the wall clock. 

13:43.

"My alarm--" 

"Went off." 

Cole turned to Kai with a look of confusion, "Then why--?" 

"We were all training and it was ringing for like, ten minutes. So we got Zane to go into your room and turn it off."

"And you didn't wake me?" 

Kai held his hands up in mock surrender, but there was something measured about his expression, his eyes searching over Cole's face as if he was seeing more than he was deciding to let on. 

Or maybe he was willing to talk about it, "We thought you'd need the sleep. We didn't wake you because we know you haven't been sleeping."

There it was. Clear as day. So apparently he hadn't been very good at hiding his gradually declining amount of sleep, but that didn't mean he needed to bother anyone with the situation. He did sleep, he had slept. He'd managed to sleep through the night, along with half the following day. No sleep deprivation there, he'd slept enough for a week. 

Kai seemed to pick up on his thoughts. Or at least where his mind was going. 

“Listen, if you're not getting enough sleep for some reason--" 

"I'm fine, Kai." Cole interrupted after a moment and ran a hand through his hair. Though his argument soon fell apart as a yawn surfaced, jaw cracking and long, it even made his eyes water slightly. 

Then when he refocused, Kai was just watching with his arms crossed over his chest as if his point had been proven, "You're fine? Right. Sure."

Cole glared, then sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Don't you have someone else to interrogate? I'm fine, okay? Am I not allowed to be tired?" 

"It's not that. You're allowed to be tired, it's just," Kai faltered briefly and moved his hands around in front of him, as if he was trying to pick the correct words out of thin air. It was ironic, really. Cole wasn't open about his possible issues, and Kai wasn't the one to usually breach the topic. But there they were, standing on opposing sides of the hallway, trying to figure their way around a conversation that neither of them were really prepared for. "Just know that whatever's going on, you can talk to anyone here--" 

"Kai," 

"And I get it, it's not easy to talk about things--" 

"Kai," Cole sighed. 

"But whenever you want to--" 

Cole placed a hand onto Kai's shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. "Kai, I'm fine. There's nothing wrong, just a few late nights."

Even still, he didn't look convinced, though the red ninja took that moment of the conversation as a small and offered out, nodding slowly, "Right, late nights." He didn't sound reassured. "Okay."

There was a short nod, and Cole released his hold. "I'm going to go and train, want to join me?" 

Kai huffed and shook his head, "No way. I already got my ass handed to me by Zane this morning. You can train yourself."

Cole smirked, "I'm not surprised."

There was a scoff, "Wow, dirt-clod, tell me what you really think."

_____

Cole had laid himself down on the stage at Nightowls, and the sky had only just begun to darken outside. This time, he'd snuck away just after dinner had ended. It wasn't hard to weasel his way out of the general games night that happened every night, consisting of Jay hogging the console and trying to beat whatever high scores Cole had set a few days prior. He was definitely getting close, but he hadn't succeeded just yet. 

All Cole had to do was tell Jay that he had no hope of ever beating his high scores, since he hadn't been able to and it had already been days. That resulted in a very focused Jay and everyone else sitting in the living room egging him on and trying to get him to prove Cole's words wrong. 

Then a brief, "Yeah, I'm turning in for the night. Going to try and get a few more hours in," And an absent and acknowledged: "Uh huh, g'night." later and Cole was pushing his bedroom door to, climbing out his window and making his now regular trip into the city. 

Chamille had apparently had the same idea of arriving early, since other than the two of them and Tyler who had been nice enough to let them both in before official opening times, the place was empty and for once, lit up normally. 

Cole could see the sheet amount of wires snaking over the ceiling from where he laid, all connecting to different lighting systems attached to a metal frame. It was professionally done, and completely inconspicuous when the lights were at their general low setting and the beating music made it hard to focus on anything else. 

Chamille nudged his foot to get his attention and Cole lifted his head to see a paintbrush held in his face. 

He tilted his head, but took the brush into his hand, "What do you expect me to do with this?"

There was a deadpan stare in return, "I don't know, play it like a flute." She said, then gestured down to an assortment of different pots of paint beside her, each one with a vibrant pigment inside, "Help me get ready. I'm dancing tonight and I gotta look good." She explained as if it was obvious, and it wasn't like Cole could say no. 

So he shifted over to the edge of the stage, picked up a pot of pink paint and started painting careful swirls over Chamille's left forearm. He must have gotten her approval, because she didn't tell him to stop. 

"Don't you usually do this before you come here?" Cole questioned after a few minutes of focused silence. 

Chamille gave a short nod, her gaze set on painting the tips of her fingers a deep purple, "Normally. But I just decided to get ready here," She looked at where he was sitting, and smiled at his look of concentration. "You have the same idea too?" 

"What, getting ready? I don't really get ready, I just come here in whatever I put on in the morning."

There was a sigh, "No, like performing. You actually going to dance tonight, or just stand in the crowd?" 

Cole paused, then shook his head. Sure, he liked watching all the performances. All the differing styles, they shifted daily and he honestly never knew what to expect. There had been ballet a few days ago, and street dance, and when some fairly bass heavy music had come on the studio had delved into a fray of jumping up and down and headbanging for a good few minutes. He never knew what to expect, but whenever he left after a night he was always grinning widely. 

But him, actually dancing? That was a whole other thing, a whole other thing that would literally never happen in a million years. 

Sure, maybe he'd thought about it. 

How couldn't he? Watching all these different people with different talents, of course it got him thinking about what he was able to do. He saw all these routines, all these moves and he could stand there and tell just by looking if he could do the same thing or not, and the answer was always a solid yes. Yes, he could do body isolation; yes, he could do ballroom, he could do street and hip-hop and pointe. 

His dad was a singer and dancer, but Cole was the one who'd been accepted into Marty Oppenheimers. Not because of his dad's previous history there, but because he'd gone and auditioned, he's aced the entry exam and he'd been good enough to get into a private school on his own. 

But that was all in the past, it was history and it had been years since he'd properly done anything to do with dance; or done anything even remotely related to dancing. The idea of trying again, even in front of strangers and like minded people, it made his stomach turn just thinking about it. 

Cole shook his head lightly, "I don't dance." 

Chamille didn't seem to take that as an answer, and she set her paintbrush into a paint pot; then she turned fully in his direction so Cole had to shift his brush away too. "Come on," She rolled her eyes in exasperation, "you don't come here because you can't dance. You're fooling no one, man, I see you. A dancer can see another dancer a mile off."

He watched her for a moment, twiddling the brush between his fingers. "I just don't dance, Cham."

"Any reason why?" 

Cole sat back a little, and decided on the general excuse of, "Because I can't."

She laughed as if the statement was a joke in its own right, before giving a light punch to his shoulder. A punch that left small neon marks from the wet paint still coating her fingers, Cole didn't make a move to try and rub it off. 

"Sure." She nodded, "Sure, right, you can't dance."

"That's what I said."

She hummed quietly, lifting a freshly opened pot of orange paint and stuck her fingers into it, then after a moment of brushing the paint over the palm of her hand, she brought it up to her face and left a solid vibrant hand print over her left cheek. 

Cole just watched. 

She repeated the process, but this time using rudimentary finger-painting to mark down rough spiral designs onto what had been a once clean t-shirt. 

Eventually, after a minute of quiet painting, Cole took it as the end of the conversation and got back to his own artwork. A line of Ninjagoan moving down Chamille's bicep, starting at her shoulder and stretching to her elbow. It read as 'light', which he thought was ironic. 

"Just saying though," she began. "If you did happen to dance,"

Cole groaned in exasperation, "Cham, I said--" 

"I know, I know, but if you did," She said, using gestures to enunciate the words, as if the actions would cause the current impossible to become possible. As if by her being enigmatic about the situation, it might come true. "If you did, I know everyone here would enjoy it."

He was taken aback by that turn of statement, his mouth moving around unspoken words before he let out a heavy breath, "Doesn't change the fact that I won't dance."

The loud laugh that followed made Cole jar, and a paint line go in completely the wrong direction. He stared up at his friend, mainly in confusion at what had caused the outburst. 

She was just staring back in what looked like victory, "So you can dance!" 

"... What?" 

"You said you 'won't dance'."

Cole nodded, his brows creasing, "Because I won't."

"Won't and can't are two different things."

Understanding descended, "Cham," He started, his free hand moving to his hair as he shifted the strands around lightly, "You know what I mean."

Honestly, she probably knew exactly what he meant, if the look she proceeded to give him was anything to go by. A raised eyebrow, then a quiet sigh escaped her nose after a short second. Her smile was still there, just a little smaller. 

"Yeah, I do." She agreed, then in the next second she reached forwards and wiped a hand directly over Cole's face. 

He didn't realise what she'd done initially, before he noticed a spec of colour clinging to his eyelashes and when he wiped his sleeve the sleeve of his hoodie, and the once black material came back with a smudged mix of bright orange and hot pink. 

His mouth dropped open, and he picked up his own paintbrush to arm himself, "I know you didn't do that." 

Chamille smirked, but he could see one of her hands skirting towards the opened purple paint. "Do what?" she questioned with feigned innocence. 

Cole kept his attention shifting between her hand and her face, "You know what you did."

In the next moment, they both moved at the same time. Cole bent the loaded paintbrush bristles back with his thumb in an attempt to spray her with it, and Chamille suddenly dove forwards with a hand freshly covered with paint. 

The next few seconds were sheer chaos, and neither party had really come out the winner. Cole was sitting, though nearly on his back and heaving with building laughter. He could feel the fresh paint on him, and he could see it too. Coloured streaks haphazardly strewn down the front of his jacket, the sheer amount already dripping onto his jeans. Then he could feel it running down his face too, enough that he had to close one eye. It was in his hair too. 

Chamille was a little better off, but she hadn't fully evaded his wrath. She had an upturned pot of neon orange on the front of her shirt, and the design they'd both spent the past half an hour painting onto her arms and face was now dotted and tarnished with a random affray of splattered marks. So Cole's shot had hit home. 

They both had a large distance between them now, but that didn't stop them from sharing a glance, and then proceeding to buckle over again. Full shoulder laughs, eyes closed. Cole was curled over his chest, a wide grin on his face with no noise coming out; but he was heaving for breath around near tears. Chamille's laugh echoed, and it just made the situation worse. It was loud, nasally, and generally one that would draw looks from any passing groups were they in a public place. It only served to make Cole laugh harder, until he had to force himself to stop in favour of taking in air. 

Even then, catching each other's eye, a small smile, and they were close to hysterics again.

They properly started to calm down when they realised that they'd gotten paint everywhere, and began to clean before they were caught in the act of causing the mess in the first place. 

They still giggled, though. Shoulders shaking briefly, a laugh disguised as a cough.

Cole was screwing the lids on the paints when the first few dancers walked through the doors, and the lights dimmed down. The music would start up soon, and the night would begin. 

Chamille stood up and stretched her back, wiping her hand down the dried paint on her arms as if she could remove the splatter. Which made Cole realise that he was probably covered in dried paint too. 

"I guess I'm going for a different style today." She said. Then she paused, as if she'd had a sudden thought. Looking between the paint on her arms, and where Cole was sitting, she said, "You could do this."

Cole just watched bewilderment, "Do what?" 

"This!" She pointed to the paint, "Or something like this. You know, what me and my team do." 

Chamille was talking like her point was obvious, but Cole was definitely not following, "Uh…" 

"You could hide behind paint."

Yep, totally lost, "What?" 

"It's what we did the first time we danced as a group. We fully covered ourselves in paint, colours everywhere, I had a kabuki mask painted on my face." She grinned, "We did it to hide who we were."

The point to her previously incandescent rambling made sense. 

"Cham," 

"Hiding who you are, wearing a mask, it's just like you being a ninja."

Cole shook his head, "People know I'm a Ninja."

"But they didn't always. Having a barrier; something to hide behind makes it easier to do your thing. You're just a Ninja, no one knows who you are." She continued. He knew she was talking about him being a ninja, but he also knew the other meaning behind what she was saying. "You just do your thing, do what you enjoy, and then at the end of the day you go back to being Cole."

"We’re talking about me being a ninja, right?" He asked, and Chamille just rolled her eyes. 

Then she fixed him with a knowing look. "Yes. Definitely. You being a ninja. That's it."

She smiled, then jumped off the stage. 

Cole watched her go, blending into the growing crowd better than anyone should be able to when covered in neon paint. 

Hiding behind being a ninja, behind a mask. A secret identity. It made things easier.

_

From the beginning

Ch 02 > Ch 03 > Ch 04

AO3

[sonicshakedown]

Top Ten Songs for a Halloween Soundtrack.

Horror, terror and the spectral. Halloween is the one time in the year when metal and the supernatural collide. No other genre of music is better suited for a night of trick or treating. To get you and/or your kids in the mood, I put together a tempting little list of evil songs. Tasty tracks to devour between mouthfuls of teeth decaying candy. Like all lists this one’s subjective and in no particular order, so take what you like, change it how you will. As long as you have the right sounds, then let the horror begin.

 Black Sabbath – Black Sabbath

From the opening sounds of ominous bell ringing and rain falling, this track didn’t just usher in metal proper, it’s one of the most chilling songs committed to tape. The listener is drawn into the sinister by a mysterious malevolent watcher. Satan is coming for you (possibly to steal your candy). Ozzy’s final wail of “please God help me” is in vain. Not even the man upstairs can help you now.

 Metallica – The Thing That Should Not Be

The beast has awoken. The lumbering heft of this song drags the listener deep into the underworld of HP Lovecraft’s Cthulhu mythos. Hetfield’s bark is your narrator informing you, “in madness, you dwell.” The guitars dip and diving at the rear of the song gives it an enhanced etherealness.

 King Diamond – Halloween

This namesake song is primed with King Diamonds trademark falsettos. The driving rhythm of the song gets your blood pumping. The song feels like an unabashed ode filtered through quality metal. Got to love those solos and Mikey Dee’s solid marching drum beat. “I command you to scream!”

 Iron Maiden – The Apparition

There’s probably at least half a dozen Iron Maiden classics that could be on this list including the overplayed number of the beast. I chose ‘The Apparition’ of the Fear of the Dark for it’s lumbering creepy tonality. The song picks up the pace mid-way through with classic Maiden solos then slows back down. Bruce is one of the best storytellers and tells of what lies on the other side of the living.

 White Zombie – Creature of the Wheel

Back when Rob Zombie made decent music, Astro Creep was an enjoyable listen. Though the album has aged as doesn’t sound as good, this particular track highlights White Zombie at their best. The demonically possessed vocals of Zombie backed by the crunching staccato guitars and accompanied by eerie sound effects and samples.

 Motorhead – Hellraiser

What would Halloween be without a little boogie in it? One can always trust Motorhead to bring the boogie and turn a rock ‘n’ roll number into an incantation to rabble-rousing and Cenobites. The track is one of two versions, the other appearing on Ozzy Osbourne’s No More Tears. But it’s Lemmy’s gruff voice that suits this track more, as does the grimy tone Motorhead brings to the song.

 Mercyful Fate – Desecration of Souls

The Fate is one of those bands where you could pick an entire album to be a Halloween soundtrack. Like Bruce Dickinson, King Diamond remains one of the true storytellers of metal. The guitar wizardry in this song always gets the headbanging. This is the warning of murder and destruction. It’s Mercyful Fate at their finest.  

 Six Feet Under – Lycanthrope

This, I admit, is a contentious pick. Not everyone cares for the death groove of Chris Barnes’ post-Cannibal Corpse outfit. But for me, this song is not only a stellar example of death groove, but it’s also about a werewolf before werewolves became wimpy little horn-dogs in watered-down romance novels. This beast is enraged and ready to slaughter.

Bloody Hammers – Night of the Long Knives

Not many know about Bloody Hammers, a gothic horror metal act from the US. The fuzzed creepy tones and Anders’ fragile vocals make for a spine-tingling experience perfect for trick or treating. The songs about the Manson Family murders from the perspective of one of the killers.

 Danzig – Until You Call on the Dark

Some may argue I should’ve gone with a Misfits track. No argument here, but I couldn’t pass up the sinister heralding of doom this track invokes. Who better to play the black priest of hell than Danzig? John Christ’s hypnotic guitar needs special mention, it’s like staring into the fires of hell and feeling yourself suck into them.

 Whatever you’re up to this Halloween, keep safe, have fun and don’t leave the house without a wicked soundtrack.

[exxxhaling]

Trip Report Bassnectar NYE 360 12/31/16

at 8pm i took a tab of acid. at this time the opening acts were playing. by the time 9:30 comes around Gramatik comes on, and I start feeling my come up more prominently. I had taken a whole tab in the past but i could tell right off the bat this was going to be a wild journey like i’ve never experienced. Gramatik never fails to make the come up enjoyable. my body started warming up, and the visuals started as well. from the circular stage visible sound waves pumped through the crowd in unison with the music. i look to my sides and my friends are highlighted in high definition. blue lights from the corners of the stadium started traveling in waves that resembled physical ocean waves, washing over my field of view. i had a little nausea but i found a lollipop gave me something to distract from the feeling. the music felt amazing, super funky, a little dirty, and jammin as usual. nick started giving light shows. mine was absolutely mesmerizing. the white stage lights illuminated the space behind him, and his red lights danced and moved with the music. the fluidity and passion was just too beautiful. it felt like i was in a movie theatre with 3D glasses on watching the characters reach out of the screen but if i reached they wouldn’t be there. his light show took me to a new level and i feel set the stage for how the rest of my night would go. looking around the crowd was shifting in waves, it looked like it was choreographed to have the group on the floor move in intervals, then waves flowed out into the stands and the bass traveled along with it, almost as if the crowed was floating on a magic carpet. there was a lot of trailing in my vision. especially the hoopers with the led hoops, they trailed as if it was in long exposure. gramatik ended after what seemed like forever. suddenly the whole group left except for me and tyler, and i remember us looking over at each other and immediately knowing what each other was thinking without having to say a word. a drunk guy was dancing in between us and talking to himself and the look of terror we exchanged for a solid 3 minutes was absolutely hilarious. soon enough everyone returned and it was time for bassnectar. the anticipation was like nothing i’ve ever felt before. the music started, and the bass rocked the stadium for the first time. the stage lit up fully, with rotating dj booth, laser lights, and massive screens with graphics of the human brain. my jaw dropped. i buckled my imaginary seatbelt and held on for dear life. the first couple of minutes i was just in complete shock that something like this could exist. From Where is My Head the rest kinda became a blur of emotion, best described by not a set list rather a string of adjectives that i remembered popping up in my head at various times throughout the night. Basically the reoccurring themes of the experience that i can actually process (because most of this experience i could not process). i could physically feel the cogs in my brain moving like a machine yet i could only spit out simple adjectives. submissive. he knew what he wanted me to feel and when he wanted me to feel it. i had little control over what my body and my mind felt. his beats tore me down into nothing but a meat suit with a lost soul. i tried to convince myself i knew what was happening and i wouldn’t fall into his trance but then he would drop it again and my heart would drop with it and body would move without me instructing it to do so. it was spiritual in the aspect that i found myself continually thanking him for this blessing. i literally shed tears of gratefulness for the experience. i held my hands up as if i was at a worship session and laid down myself to him. i definitely left a piece of me at his feet that night. he was a spiritual god in this cosmic wonderland of worship. dirty. fucking dirty. often times he would drop a beat and it would take me aback, my jaw would drop and i would think “how could you?! how DARE you drop something as filthy as that?!” as if he didn’t know what it does to us (but he most certainly does). sometimes there was no break, no time to breathe in between the relentless head-banging and body shaking bass. i started to feel the dirt on me. I felt like a caveman, i couldnt think full thoughts, i couldnt express my feelings, i was covered in sweat and god knows what else. but soon after i felt my self-consciousness disappear, everyone was one, we were all here to get down and dirty together. i started to ignore how disgusting i felt after that.  beautiful. colorstorm playing as the ball dropped at midnight was absolutely magical. visually, musically, and socially beautiful. everyone was overflowing with love and my entire field of view consisted of rainbow beings wobbling and headbanging in perfect unison, rainbow trails followed each and every person individually then ran together into one. Lucy in the Sky was visually my favorite part of the night, the visuals pretty much mirrored what i had been seeing on my own throughout the night, bright rainbow lights, shifting kaleidoscopes, and neon patterns pulsing throughout the crowd. i try to categorize my visuals at nye into “things i think i saw” and “things that were actually there” which is actually very difficult because once the acid kicked in i found it hard to distinguish which visuals were mine and which were his. Android Jones took me on a whole separate journey, at that point i was sitting still as can be, my body numb and aching, my eyes devouring his visuals on screen. i can’t put this into words because honestly this part was one of the “you just had to be there” things. cleansing. cleansing of the mind, body, and soul. at one point in the night i distinctly recall my skin literally melting off my body, starting from my face and dripping down into a puddle on the floor. when i touched my face at first i felt the sticky putty like “skin” that was just piling up on top of me, as the music played it just melted like candle wax down my arms and legs. directly afterwards the “cool down” portion of the set started, and i’m still trying to figure out if there were physical drops of water coming from above me or if i was just trippin but during a water-related song the visuals were very blue and the coolness of the song allowed my previous self to float away as the water fell down onto me, reviving my skin after the meltdown. i got to sit down and begin to process the magnitude of what was going on, and my brain and body could come back into unison. my soul was ecstatic. just bursting with light and color and love. my emotions had never been heightened as they were at this point. my most vivid experience comes towards the end of the set, where the bass is so heavy that i could physically feel it (and see it) wrap around me in a big giant hug. the light overtook me, the waves of sound collected together, and reached out and hugged me, making me feel that everything was going to be okay. expansive yet intimate. it’s not a joke when people refer to blasting off in a spaceship at these shows. it was a fucking spaceship. i left planet earth behind moments into bassnectars set and didn’t fall lightly back to earth, you get dropped like a fucking rock back into reality. i’m convinced the entire set did not take place in birmingham. it took place in outer space. from the positioning of the lights, the nature of the music, the quirkiness of the crowd, it was not of this world. however, at the same time we were all on this ship together, i felt like i knew every single person, i wanted to know what they are like, how they got here, what brought them to this experience. whatever happens in daily life didn’t matter. no ones major or job or family life mattered because we were all here to escape together, led into this expansive universe by lorin. i could not be more grateful to have experienced this in the way that i did. at times i was completely overwhelmed. i lost where i was and who i was and all i had to ground me was the bass. at other times i knew where i was, who i was, who i want to be, and how lucky i was to have people standing by my side to experience this with. as always, hugging my group and seeing their happy faces was something i will never forget. 

until next year nye ✌🏼

[doomedandstoned]

THREE EYES LEFT Expose ‘The Cult of Astaroth’

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

I suspect THREE EYES LEFT is not a household name among many doomers, save for the more cosmopolitan of aficionados. They're part of an explosion of the slow 'n' slow that has dominated Italy in the last decade (documented in our compilation Italy Strikes Back), which itself has a rich history of epic and gothic doom.

If this is indeed your first encounter with Three Eyes Left, you might assume the album before us is a first and that this is one of many recent bands vying for attention in the ever-crowded landscape of doom metal adherents. Truth is, this is the fourth album that Three Eyes Left have bestowed upon us since their demo in 2006 and subsequent long-play, Silentium Aurum Est, in 2008. Indeed, Three Eyes Left have an enduring fascination for the occult that has followed them throughout their discography, from the aforementioned debut to La danse macabre in 2013 and Asmodeus in 2015 (he being the reputed king of demons). Now the band from Bologna turn their attention to another unexplored realm of forbidden knowledge in 'The Cult of Astaroth' (2017 - Argonauta Records).

Maic (vocals, guitar), Ste (drums), or Andrea (bass) are now over a decade strong as a band and they couldn’t sound more refined. Everything about The Cult of Astaroth is well-crafted and tightly executed, with refined technique, effective vocalizations, and pristinely recorded riffmaking.

To set the stage for this, the band's most ambitious effort yet, we're given this chillingly cryptic forward:

Three dancing eyes chasing the night idol, a sound bending at the magical sphinxes of times ready to explode in millions of vivid and dying butterflies. A needle's storm enveloping more distant minds’ sleep to fecundate the first handmaid’s ancient womb. A psychic and interrupted rock, a multitude of words weaved together with a string made of stones and gems. Three Eyes Left is the dance before the word and the word before colour, and now waits for the harvest refulgence to gather and offer the livid germ of its roots.

Dance incestuous sons! At the sickle light, find the chosen ones! Show them what they will receive in gift. A mass of mothers and sisters, of eyes consecrated to the black light of oblivion, the Danse Macabre of ethereal mastodons and solar flares. A music box made of tendon and blood from which rolls the inception of silence, the virgin that offers herself for another smile, the planet that fears a light that isn’t its own.

From the stones' gardens up to the never born dreams, through the Third Stone and the solitude of mud, beyond the discriminating mind’s hell: this is the sludgey, psychedelic domain of Three Eyes Left, now more than ever.

The Cult of Astaroth by Three Eyes Left releases Friday, September 15th on Argonauta Records. You can pre-order the CD here. Today, Doomed & Stoned is treating you to the album's world premiere. Give ear....

The name Astaroth seemed vaguely familiar to me. It took me more than a moment to put my finger on it. This triggered childhood memories, stories of an "Asherah pole." Could there be a connection between Astaroth and Asherah, the name I'd heard so often in Bible studies and sermons from my father's pulpit growing up? The coincidence was too rich to evade my inquiry. Asherah, so the Biblical story goes, was a neighboring Canaanite deity, the mother counterpart to father deity El. El was the big "G" god that Abrahamic religions adopted and was later known to the ancient Israelites by the sacred, unpronounceable name of Yahweh, a fearsome male deity infamous for his jealous demand of complete and total devotion.

Despite the exclusivity of their covenant with Yahweh, there seemed to be some strange hold, some irresistible pull, that kept people going back to Asherah time and again. After the infamous incident with the Golden Calf, Moses had commanded the Israelites to cut down the Asherah poles which, while never described explicitly, must have been some kind of totem or elaborately decorated tree to the goddess Asherah. In the Scriptures, there is a narrative where ancient Israelites were constantly leaving their national deity in favor of this foreign one. What was the crazy allure that kept turning them back again and again, despite the prophets’ stern warnings and even the unpleasant prospect of capital punishment? Whoever Asherah was and whatever meant to people was enough for them abandon as fierce a deity as Yahweh without a second thought. It had always left me puzzled as a Bible student, yet no one at church seemed all that curious to dig for an answer, so I left it as one of the "unsolved mysteries of the Bible."

It took this very album by Three Eyes Left to renew my interest in finding the missing pieces to my puzzle. As it turns out, Asherah is the Hebrew word for Astaroth from the Greek Astarte -- all basically transliterations of the same word that connects you back to (are you ready for this?) the ancient Mesopotamian deity Ishtar -- the mother of all mankind, born in the cradle of civilization. The cult of Ishtar has long been known to historians and the later rivalry between Yahweh and Asherah could have been the beginnings of our modern day war between God and The Devil. Astaroth, in particular, was written depicted, along with a bevy of fellow "demons," in the Dictionnaire Infernal of 1963.

Now, I'm not more than an armchair historian, but I cannot deny the fascination that brings me to this new record by Three Eyes Left, who have chosen the Cult of Astaroth as the concept for an entire album. Let's walk through it, shall we?

Quaint acoustic picking opens "Sons Of Aries," as though worshippers was climbing the steppes to join the mountaintop throng. The sacred moments of early morning solemnity. “After everything we've seen, there isn't much that rattles either of us anymore,” a woman reflects. “But this one, this one still haunts me.” A quote, of course, from Lorraine Warren in The Conjuring II. The vignette about a slaughtered family has been repurposed here, I suppose, because of its appropriately dire parallel to the sacrifices of The Cult of Astaroth. Or perhaps it is simply to set the mood for this epic number, which reaches past the ten minute mark. The gentle opening has by now given way to a dark, slow doom riff, which in turn scares up a dark storm of drum, bass, and guitar, orated by a singer describing the frightful scene before us. This will be familiar territory to any Electric Wizard fan, but I dare say it ratchets everything up a notch or two higher. Chords clash with great intensity, like vast tidal waves in an ethereal sea of sound dashing against one Great Rock, on top of which is an ancient altar to Astaroth. There are moments when the guitars sing beautifully amidst this stormy chaos and angsty vocals decry the atrocities that lie ahead of us, committed impulsively to this strange deity for reasons we are yet to uncover.

"You Suffer....I, The Evil Dead" opens with a child's music box playing "This Old Man." This is followed by the groovy grind of southern sludge and dark, caustic growls. Maic's vocal range here is impressive, insofar as he can waffle between dirty and clean vocals effortlessly and, I must note, quite effectively. We feel we're at a tug of war now; perhaps playing the part of the sacrificial devotee bound and gagged who is being tossed around amongst the worshippers in some arcane ritual around a blazing center inferno before the final appeasement. Musically, this is a song any friend of Weedeater, Sourvein, and Bongzilla would be at home with, though I dare say it carries far more emotional weight than those of similar vein. I love Maic's guitar leads throughout, reminding me of the great Paul Chain, who I imagine coundn't help but have been an influence on this crew. Maic has an instinct for just how long to play out a riff, complete with rubato phrasing and deliciously tortured effects.

The third track samples some kind of odd, scraping sound -- as though something were being dragged along the rocks. "Spiritic Signals Through The Beyond" is the song's title. It begins with a downtuned dirge, a frenetic circle of worshippers crying out to the goddess for some sign, any sign. Maic's vocals approach chillingly epic levels here, in the sacred tradition of Candlemass. I have to say they are once again one of the most compelling things about each and every song we've heard so far. A Sleep-like drum and bass section gives a contemplative close to the track, as we fade out of one scene and prepare for entry into another.

"Chants into the Grave" is pure fire, a solid headbanger for sure. One imagines the prophetess of this cult crying a lungful of devoted praise to Astaroth, whilst simultaneously providing stern exhortation to those worshippers dancing 'round the altar of fuzz and fury. At this juncture, I should note that not one song feels disconnected from the other. Each feels like it is connected to the one before it and is building, ever building, towards some climactic atrocity.

Enter "The Satanist." The center track on this album introduces us to the shadowy instigator of this chaos. Fret and wah lead into a charging drum beat and grinding savagery, as one imagines the punishing hate of Cain's rock making contact with Abel's temple. Whether this is the band's intention or not, an atmosphere of violence surrounds the record's bruising fifth number. "I hope they are watching...they'll see," says a voice in the backdrop, a sample this time from Hitchcock's Psycho (1960). “They’re probably watching me. Well, let them. Let them see what kind of a person I am."

By now, if you've been listening along with me, you're probably thinking the headbanging doom just couldn't get any better. But Three Eyes Left are unrelenting. Just like the storied cultic rituals of ancient times, The Cult of Astaroth continues in its frenzy, building and building in aggression as storm clouds gather, thunder booms and echoes across the horizon, and the earth quakes with a thirst for blood. Thus is the ambience of "Demon Cult."

Now more than half-way through our journey, we're introduced to another important clue pertaining to The Cult of Astaroth: "De Umbrarum Regni." This is reference, no doubt, to the Delomelanicon, a book also known as The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows, tied to The Club Dumas which Spanish author Arturo Pérez-Reverte wrote about. The mysterious tome was a centerpiece of that wonderful 1999 film, 'The Ninth Gate' by Roman Polanski. Incidentally, there are nine tracks to this album. Coincidence? As the story goes, just three copies of Delomelanicon were extant, with woodcuts purportedly engraved by The Devil himself. Those precious few who read from its pages could, the legend said, summon demonic forces to obey them at will.

"Funeral Of An Exorcist" may refer to one of those brave souls who attempted to expose the activities of the cult or retrieve the devilish book that gave Astaroth's disciples such unimaginable powers. Apparently, he got in over his head. This is his story, or more accurately, his obituary.

"...And Then God Will Die..." is the big closer, exposing the final aim of this ancient conspiracy of shadows. The question remains: will the machinations of Astaroth's cult be successful? With this final blasphemy, Three Eyes Left brings their fourth album comes to a close, ending with faint screeches that hint of more to come.

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