Cough - Still They Pray

By Karen A. Mann. Cough’s music has always strongly evoked that sweet spot between feeling no pain and puking your guts out after drinking a bottle full of codeine-laced cough syrup. You never quite know where any of their songs will lead you.

By Karen A. Mann.


Cough’s music has always strongly evoked that sweet spot between feeling no pain and puking your guts out after drinking a bottle full of codeine-laced cough syrup. You never quite know where any of their songs will lead you. One moment it’s ethereal and fuzzy. The next moment you’re begging for death. The band seemed to have peaked with the 2010 release Ritual Abuse, a misanthropic slab of agony that brought them a wider audience, and some often unfair comparisons to Electric Wizard.

Aside from their 2013 split with Windhand, the band was mostly silent for six years, during which the members focused on other projects (guitarist Brandon Marcey leads Sinister Haze and bass player Parker Chandler is also in Windhand). Now Cough is finally back with the incredible Still They Pray, appropriately produced by Jus Oborn and Windhand mastermind Garrett Morris, who coaxed the band to create their strongest, most melodic release to date.

Photos by Karen

Still They Pray begins with a feedback shriek that segues into the shuffling, howling “Haunter of the Dark.” Driven by a gut-punch groove and David Cisco’s wah-freakout guitar, “Haunter” is a perfect vehicle for Cisco’s tortured, from-the-abyss vocals. It’s also a good indicator of what to expect from the rest of the album: groovy rhythms that can turn unexpectedly jammy, layers upon layers of hypnotic riffing, and vocals from both Cisco and Chander that sound utterly desperate and morose, whether they’re screaming or quietly singing in a clean voice.

Still They Pray also amps up Cough’s dark, psychedelic tendencies, especially on the beautifully horrifying “Dead Among the Roses,” (my pick for the album’s best track), and the funereal, keyboard-driven “The Wounding Hours.” All these elements meld together in “Let It Bleed,” which begins with some sweet riffing that could almost be from a Neil Young deep cut, but ends deliriously raw and angry, as Cisco intones “Life and death, all the same, just let it bleed.”

Karen's photos are from Cough's album release show. See more of them over at her blog.

Gevurah - Hallelujah!

By Justin C. Gevurah, a Canadian black metal duo, put out an EP in 2013, Necheshirion, that I was not sure I completely understood. It was music I felt drawn to and frustrated by at the same time, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

By Justin C.

Cover artwork by Denis Forkas

Gevurah, a Canadian black metal duo, put out an EP in 2013, Necheshirion, that I wasn't sure I completely understood. It was music I felt drawn to and frustrated by at the same time, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Good art should make you think, and sometimes even make you hate it a little bit because of your own perplexed reactions to it. Even after all this time, I'm still a bit mystified by it, but after three years, they're back with their debut full-length, puzzling me all over again.

Hallelujah!, which probably isn't the black metal album title you were suspecting, starts slowly. "The Fire Dwelling Within" opens with whispering over a swelling guitar line, and even with the addition of the percussion, it takes a bit for the track to coalesce. There's some chanting involved, and oh God we're already passed the two-minute mark. You might be tempted to click away--there's so much else to listen to--but hang on. The song proper finally kicks off with a growl and we're treated to some excellent, mid-paced rhythms underneath furious, buzzing riffs. There are plenty of clanging, dissonant chords to come, and a vocal style that sounds like Lemmy doing black metal. I swear I'm not making fun here--the style works, and once the comparison popped to mind, it stayed there.

A lot of the album is like this. It seems to aim more toward disturbing hypnosis than metal ass-kicking. Musical ideas build and fall, although the intensity rarely drops. There's no real true breather until the lovely, mid-album-ish "Lifting the Veils of Da'at," which presents a melodic idea and builds on it, simply and effectively, over the course of four minutes.

All of this push-pull is the album's strength and possibly its weakness, depending on how you like to be challenged. It clocks in at just over an hour, which certainly isn't that unusual or particularly unmanageable, but it's really heavy on the back end, with a 19-minute-long closing track. The penultimate track, "Dies Irae - Lacrimosa," would have been a killer album closer. The opening riff is simple but infectious, the vocals build to the point of sounding physically painful, and there's an abrupt break in the middle of the track that lets it build up all over again.

But then this closing track, "הַלְּלוּיָ." (It's also the title track, as the Google machine tells me this is Hebrew for "Hallelujah.") It moves and evolves, but ever so slowly. On first listen, I asked myself if these ideas needed to be repeated so often with so little variation. At one point I thought it was close to the end, but I was still only halfway through. Eventually some monkish choral work kicks in, which on first listen annoyed the hell out of me. But then the riffs after the choral parts pick up that melody, which is cool! I didn't know what to think. I wanted to punch this song in its little song face for taking so long, for weighing down this album. After a second listen, though, I was a little more convinced. Additional listens drew me in a bit more.

My ultimate conclusion? I honestly don't know. There's a lot to like here, with a dose of frustration mixed in. The album's too damn long, but on some listens, I feel truly elevated by it. Other times I feel like I'm just being ground down. With that said, post-review I find myself still listening and still thinking about it, which I've found is often a mark of good art. I highly recommend finding your own love-hate relationship with it.

P.S. If you’re interested in a fantastic breakdown of the spiritual ideas involved, head over to Last Rites for an excellent summary.

Wo Fat - Midnight Cometh

By Karen A. Mann. If Kyuss, the High Priestess of Stoner Rock, and ZZ Top, the Priest of Texas Boogie, made love at the Temple of the Riff, the resulting magickal aura just might be Wo Fat.

By Karen A. Mann.

Artwork by David Paul Seymour

If Kyuss, the High Priestess of Stoner Rock, and ZZ Top, the Priest of Texas Boogie, made love at the Temple of the Riff, the resulting magickal aura just might be Wo Fat. Few bands worship riffage more joyously or fervently than this band of Dallas guitar slingers.

Midnight Cometh, their latest release, which is out May 20 on Ripple Music, continues the band’s signature psychedelic sonic exploration and pulls you headlong into its smoky spell.

The first song, “There’s Something Sinister in the Wind,” begins with ambient, singing bowl-like tone, lulling you into a trance before a droning riff comes rolling in and pounds you with a High on Fire-worthy breakdown. Guitarist Kent Stump has a great ability to construct riffs that double back on themselves, leading the listener through an intricate maze of sound.

Stump charges through all six songs, creating rifftacular jams that are by turns shredding and grooving, and making copious use of slide, wah and delay. Songs like “Of Smoke and Fog,” which begins with a nod to Robin Trower, and “Le Dilemme de Detenu” are the true psychedelic standouts. “Riffborn” pretty much speaks for itself, and showcases Stump’s guitar work at its most ferocious. Midnight Cometh ends in a similar place where it began, with a full and perfect union of ZZ Top-inspired slide work and a hazy, desert groove.