Witchcraft (SWE)
Grand Magus (SWE)
Orange Goblin (UK)

Sojo, June 16th, 2004.

Triple treat! Grand Magus and Orange Goblin had already visited the Sojo some two years ago, and now they were back and brought brand new label mates Witchcraft along for the trip. The people over at Rise Above Records (founded by grind/doom-meister Lee Dorrian) proved they are a smart bunch by sending out some of their most intriguing sons. On the surface, these bands may seem to be quite similar – they’re all playing a kind of hard rock, right? -, yet there’s quite a difference between Grand Magus’ titanic power-doom, Orange Goblin’s testosterone-driven blend of blues-injected Neo-New Wave of British Heavy Metal and Witchcraft’s refreshing take on psychedelic proto-doom. Witchcraft undeniably represented the big question mark of the evening, having released their self-titled debut album only two months ago and visiting the European continent for the first time. Even though it was only their second night of the tour (they’d played in London the night before), they started off without too much fuss and frills. It was immediately obvious they’re not yet the weathered stage veterans the geezers in Orange Goblin are (but who is?), but there was no reason to be modest at all. Those who’d heard their album (probably only a handful of lucky people) immediately caught on as they delivered their straightforward merger of early doom (think Black Sabbath, think Pentagram), acid rock and touches of psychedelica, with late ‘60’s pop flourishes thrown in for good measure. This description suggests a bludgeoning platter of noise, but it wasn’t. For a band that’s obsessed with the dark side of things and inspired by those bands, they remain surprisingly digestible, delivering accessible songs that contain both greasy crunch and the haunted, breakable vocals of singer/guitarist Magnus Pelander, who not only wrote the majority of their songs, but also ensures they’ll always stand apart from the pack. Early on in the set, they dove into the magnificent “Witchcraft,” which boasts a riff that’s catchier than you’ve ever imagined a doom band could come up with, while lead guitarist John Hoyles proved he ain’t no slouch on guitar, squeezing one hell of a solo out of his six-stringed wand. While some of their tracks are a bit stretched out and even touch upon prog-rock (good prog-rock, that is!), others of their songs are unexpectedly concise. Here’s a band that doesn’t stretch out a behemoth groove for ten minutes, a band that doesn’t down-tune, letting the songs speak for themselves instead. “Lady Winter” sounded as it could’ve been a cut from the first Black Sabbath album, the ominous “What I Am” had some great guitar parts and an atmosphere that reminded me of the classic Wishbone Ash-period, while twenty seconds of “No Angel or Demon” sufficed to make you realize why the song was released as a single and good enough to convince the people at Rise Above of their qualities. During “Schyssta Lögner,” which was sung in Swedish, the bass player banged his head like a metronome on the loose, after which Pelander asked the audience if they were ready for some doom and kicked off the sinister plodding of “You Bury Your Head.” They concluded the set with a new song (“Sorrow Evoker”?) that combined hulking power chords with a thumping hard rock finale that finished off their short set in style. While it’s obvious they’re still fairly new in the game, Witchcraft proved that the future of doom is secured with a bunch of first-class songs and an infectious performance that suggests there’s some great stuff to come.

And then for something completely different: Grand Magus. The name already implies a lot, doesn’t it? Indeed, even though they’re only a trio, their sound is huge. No, let me rephrase that, it’s MASSIVE. The volume wasn’t as overpowering as during the Mastodon gig a few days earlier, yet the band came out of the gates like a bulldozer. Singer/guitar player JB (yes, that’s his name) is only a small guy, but his Gibson Flying V and an impressive powerhouse roar of a voice are all he needs to make you look for an emergence exit … just in case, you know. On top of that, he’s aided by Fox (turbo-charged 8-stringed Rickenbacker bass) and Trisse (drums), a duo that’s able to kick up a racket of enormous proportions. It’s not that easy to pinpoint their style: viking metal, mammoth blues, ultra-heavy hard rock? Let it suffice that they have a very powerful sound, with JB’s vocals – reminiscent of Chris Cornell’s, Rob Halford’s and John Garcia’s – fulfilling the foghorn part. Of course, there’s a downside to that titanic approach – the answer to the question whether they offer variation must be “NADA” – but that’s only a minor detail if you’ve come to witness a band that tackles its songs as if they’re heroic battles. The vocals, the decibels, the length of the songs, the themes – it’s all of epic proportions, but that’s exactly what you expect of them. Their stage antics are, uh, well … let’s call it an acquired taste, shall we? Throwing fists into the air (the hammer of the Gods!) and showing off studded armbands isn’t exactly my idea of good taste either, but in this context it’s once again appropriate. As for the songs, they selected a handful from each album. During “Never Learned” from the debut album, JB wailed like an insane banshee, which he backed up with some smothering chords. Maybe that’s also the only minor problem I have with this band … I believed JB when he told the audience that he’d had a “fucking boring day,” but it was also a bit indicative of the entire show: it’s all so goddamn serious and apocalyptic. That’s okay if you’re Neurosis and projecting movies of dissections and stuff, but if you’re wearing the Rob Halford Extras, people expect to be cracked up as well. Anyway, the saga continued with “Food of the Gods,” the dark force of “Chooser of the Slain” and ended with “Baptised in Fire.” All in all, the band lived up to the high expectations that their second album created, offering an imposing set that took heaviness - and expressions that are usually associated with pillaging and mass-rapin’ Vikings and other assorted fun - as far as it could get without crossing the line into the realm of stand-up comedy.

Orange Goblin delivers the same macho behaviour and decibel overload and though they even put in the “hooligan on booze”-dimension, they’re also smart enough to add the wicked grin. Oh, I guess they’re very serious about it, but their previous efforts have proven more than once they have a restless spirit and a sense of humour that’ll always be endearing in a way. Even though their previous album Coup de Grace divided their fan base by a prominent punk/thrash influence, they basically are – and always have been – a hard rock band in the purest sense of the term. Just imagine an early incarnation of Saxon or early Iron Maiden, then add the blues of AC/DC, the filth of Motörhead and spice it up with some stoner fuzz, and you’re there. It’s a cocktail that tastes fucking good and it’ll even turn the wallflowers in the audience into belchin’ bastards. A large part of their appeal undoubtedly comes from the fact that they’re spearhead by 6’6” grizzly on steroids Ben Ward, a roaring, tattooed giant who has the range of a truck’s horn, but the attitude and presence of a great performer. They kicked off with a scorching “Your World Will Hate This” and basically never let loose the gas pedal again. It’s about as refined as a kick in the groin, but Goblin’s music is multi-functional: it’s the kind of stuff to impress your bully brother with, the kind of stuff you wanna hear when you walk into a tough roadhouse joint, the stuff you wanna blast in your car on a hot summer night, the kind of stuff you wanna play when you’re hangin’ out with “the boys” or simply wanna offend your parents/wife/neighbours. Though they mainly focused on their latest release, Thieving from the House of God, the band tore through most of their catalogue, alternating older stoner-blues with their current in-your-face hard rock. The bratty “One Room, One Axe, One Outcome” left nothing to the imagination, “Hot Magic, Red Planet” recalled a grinding bulldozer, while “Hard Luck” and “Quincy the Pigboy” suggested the Sojo would be the next target of Operation Goblinstorm. Of course, the band also lauded “the best beer in the world” (that’s Stella), Ward played with his mike stand as if it were nothing but a piece of cane, while guitarist Joe Hoare, drummer Chris Turner and bassist Martyn Millard proved they’re essentially a Southern rock band raised on grits and gore during the rumbling “You’re Not the One Who Can Save Rock ‘n’ Roll.” It continued like that for a while: “The Man Who Invented Time” was a terrific piece of blues metal, the single “Some You Win, Some You Lose” a refined slice of ‘fuck you’-racket and “Blue Snow” a classic in stoner rock. It’s not that hard to get fed up with their sound as well – the manic energy and great sound sometimes obscure the fact that not all of their songs are outstanding -, but they solved that with an appropriately muddy rendition of ZZ Top’s “Just Got Paid.” By the end of the set, both the band and the audience were rather wasted, but they managed to top it off with good takes on “Whiskey Leech” and the extended “Crown of Locusts,” a monstrous track that combines doom with ‘mosh pit’-noise in a way only they can pull off. So, all in all, the night offered one of the best bargains your money could buy. Witchcraft immediately entered the ‘Promising’-charts at 1, Grand Magus confirmed their status as Scandinavian War Gods and Orange Goblin … well, they were just fookin’ Orange Goblin: cursin’ and ragin’ and sweatin’ and kickin’ out the jams in their own sweet way. Tops!

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