I’m burned out. Literally and figuratively. Burned out on this oppressive Carolina heat, which knows no relief or mercy. Burned out on my listening habits, especially my summer metal fixations, which have provided little in the way of satisfaction as of late. Burned out on the occasional pangs of guilt at keeping this site on life support yet continually putting off attempts to revive it. For the time being, it appears that the sole function here will be a repository for various mixes that are mostly the products of boredom.

So with that heavy dose of enthusiasm out of the way, let’s get on to the mix!

My annual nadir of music absorption generally occurs around mid-July, and it never fails to depress me. I can never figure out what I want to listen to at any given time; all of my music bores me, and the weather inflicts a numbing sluggishness upon me that keeps my interest in exploring new music at a minimum. I’m one of those weird cold-weather misfits by nature, so by August of every year I’ve usually started counting down the days until I can step outside in the morning and see my breath. I’m well aware that my relatively recent move of 800 miles south of New England does not bode well for my situation, so to help ease along this time of misery I’ve been exploring the fringes of my soul and jazz collections, resulting in the compendium of sixteen selections below. This is emphatically not a traditional “summer mix,” with its associations of welcoming joy at warmth and sunshine, the long days and comfortable nights, the beach vacations and the fireworks and drinks by the pool and backyard barbeques – that ain’t what this is about. And Dusk Brings the Fireflies is a longing desire for summer’s end, taking comfort in the night arriving earlier each evening, the rays of the sun softening ever so slightly, relishing nature’s faint hints that autumn is on its way soon. Make of it what you will.

And Dusk Brings the Fireflies 67:26 (.zip – 122.8 MB at 256 kbps)

1. Remind Me 5:14 – Patrice Rushen (1982) 5:14
2. It’s Just Begun 3:37 – The Jimmy Castor Bunch (1972)
3. Only When I’m Dreaming 3:19 – Minnie Riperton (1970)
4. If It’s in You to Do Wrong 4:32 – The Impressions (1973)
5. Flowers 4:18 – The Emotions (1976)
6. Love’s Maze 5:11 – The Temprees (1973)
7. Lil’ Red Riding Hood 3:50 – The Undisputed Truth (1975)
8. I Love You More and More 4:03 – Tom Brock (1974)
9. Theme from King Heroin 2:51 – James Brown (1972)
10. Slow Dance 4:24 – David Ruffin (1980)
11. Delta Man (Where I’m Coming From) 5:22 – Gil Scott-Heron (1977)
12. Sexy Mama 6:35 – The Moments (1973)
13. Something Lovely 3:07 – The Main Ingredient (1973)
14. Musical Massage 3:41 – Leon Ware (1976)
15. Manteca 3:18 – Marvin Gaye (1971)
16. Gotta Be Where You Are 4:13 – Love Unlimited (1979)

I’ve been trying to place Patrice Rushen’s lovely “Remind Me” into the opening slot of a mix for years but could never quite make it work until now. The subtle accents and decorations from her keyboards carry the entirety of the track for me, and I’d be remiss to overlook that elegant Rhodes solo. Posh (1980) is still my go-to record when I need a Patrice fix, but “Remind Me” is just faultless in every way.

The Jimmy Castor Bunch’s “It’s Just Begun” kicks things off proper with staccato horn stabs, punching hi-hats, and a roaring bassline that propels everything above it into a noisy stratosphere by the three-minute mark. This cut always gets the blood rushing.

It was tough to narrow down a selection from Minnie “Human Theremin” Riperton to include here, but the lazy Brazilian vibe of “Only When I’m Dreaming” from her debut felt most appropriate. This avant-garde slice of pop couldn’t be more unconventional and forward-looking for 1970: the juxtaposing keys of the bossa-like verses and the horn fanfare following the choruses (reminiscent of Martha and the Vandellas’ singles for Motown), Minnie’s odd phrasing and her chilling siren wails in the second verse, and the way the rhythm section threatens to burst through the speakers.

Birds sing out of tune, songs with no refrain.
Nested in purple trees, nothing seems to rhyme.

And to think that this was nestled into the back end of Come to My Garden’s (1970) second side.

Most of The Impressions’ post-Mayfield work of the 1970s is pretty forgettable, which ups the pleasant-shock value of “If It’s in You to Do Wrong” tenfold. Just when the tense Blaxploitation-themed intro has been established the song abruptly stops, changes course, and enters mid-tempo ballad territory. It’s a ballsy move, especially for an album opener (from 1974’s Finally Got Myself Together), but it pays off marvelously.

According to my iTunes play count, The Emotions’ “Flowers” has received more digital spins than any of the other thousands of songs on my hard drive. (The Deele’s “Shoot ‘Em Up Movies” is a close runner-up at the moment.) I’m not exactly sure why this is the case, but I’m guessing it probably has something to do with the fact that I’m simply incapable of stopping the song once the ten-second mark is reached. Maybe it’s the bubbly, disco-lite groove, or the Philip Bailey-like vocal phrasing from the Hutchinson girls, or the, uh, “flowery” spoken-word outro. Maybe it’s the greatest snare I’ve ever had the privilege of hearing on a record. Yeah, that’s what it is. The snare drum.

You know, one of these days my wife is going to come home and find me as a tepid, lifeless puddle on the hallway floor, with The Temprees’ “Love’s Maze” comfortably looping on the stereo in the background. No doubt the medical examiner will ultimately attribute it to the perfect – in every last sense of the word – key change at 2:36. I almost chose the 7” edit here but thought better of it; there are already enough injustices in the world.

And speaking of injustice, evidently the Powers That Be long ago decided that one of the most rewarding and musically adventurous catalogs of the 20th century could be neatly parsed into a handful of similarly-packaged bargain Best-Ofs for public consumption and then presumably continued to sleep soundly at night. Damn them all to hell. So until my fantasy record label gets off the ground and begins the laborious but loving task of reissuing each jewel from The Undisputed Truth in deluxe two-disc gatefold editions (with concurrent limited-edition runs of 180-gram vinyl, of course), the cheated masses will have to settle for the occasional mixtape fodder such as 1975’s “Lil’ Red Riding Hood,” included here. This is just the tip of the iceberg, friends. No one defined druggy psychedelic soul quite like the Truth, and by the way, they’re still the only group who can cover Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On” and not be overshadowed by the supernatural purity of the original.

I don’t know much about this Tom Brock fellow other than his affiliation with Barry White in the mid-70s, which is more than sufficient enough to pique my interest in his work. Curiously, “I Love You More and More” lacks the easily-identifiable sonic fingerprint that one immediately attributes to The Maestro – one of those you-know-it-when-you-hear-it things – but it’s hardly the lesser for it; Brock confidently makes it his own, seemingly despite the drummer’s attempts to bribe the engineer into placing his drums louder than anything else in the mix. Part of its charm, I suppose.

Nothing against the undeniable fire that one of the finest backing bands in popular music were capable of, but I always enjoy those rare occasions when The J.B.’s mellow out and succumb to a quiet groove, as “Theme from King Heroin” demonstrates. This hypnotic little instrumental serves as an interlude of sorts for the mix.

I picked up David Ruffin’s last two LPs, So Soon We Change (1979) and Gentleman Ruffin (1980), for a few bucks at a used record store years ago, and I would have never predicted the overabundance of guilty pleasures they would end up providing me. On the surface, “Slow Dance” is a plod through some horribly dated, third-rate disco funk, but throw on a pair of decent headphones and tell me there isn’t some phenomenal shit going on underneath: a dash of reverse-reverb on the lead vocal, delightful and random splashes of arpeggios from the keys, and some genuinely bizarre backing vocal arrangements. If neat-o studio trickery has little bearing on your capacity to enjoy a song, perhaps Ruffin’s signature gruff bellowing will maintain your interest – all the more impressive at this phase in his career.

Time to sober up, revelers. The attentive and cynical listener will be quick to point out the jarring absurdity in following up a trashy Ruffin number with some pointed political commentary from the mighty Gil Scott-Heron, but fortunately it is my mix, so piss off somewhere else. It took me some time to come around to the stark mood pieces found on the oft-overlooked Bridges (1977), but its rewards are plenty, “Delta Man” chief among them (“Rivers of My Fathers,” my personal favorite of the Scott-Heron/Jackson alliances, didn’t fit in the sequencing here). As I get older there’s something about the poet’s work that resonates with increasing gravity each passing year.

The Moments’ “Sexy Mama” is one of the more potent sex jams in a decade overflowing with them, and anyone familiar with Sylvia Robinson’s songwriting talents should hear her presence here. Again, I went with the extended version instead of the quick-fix radio edit to follow the mood and pacing of the other selections. The line, “Go ‘head and let your jones get good and funky,” will heretofore be added to my seduction patter; I highly advise you do the same.

“Something Lovely” was a recent discovery while casually exploring the second side of The Main Ingredient’s Afrodisiac (1973). As much of a turn-off as the phrase “proto-hip hop” is, the drum pattern here really is wonderfully addictive. What a gem this is – and the horn solo at the bridge? Stereolab would sow the seeds of this sound 25 years later to much acclaim, most of it from a deafening yours truly.

And it’s back to the bedroom with Leon Ware’s sultry “Musical Massage.” Those intoxicated by the Arthur Verocai revival buzz that’s been rampant ‘round the internets of late would do well to check out anything with Ware’s name on it from this era, as there are direct harmonic parallels with his work and many of Verocai’s MPB contemporaries – but I digress. This is a beautiful, quiet-storm light-dimmer that evaporates into the sticky humidity of a late summer evening.

In the interest of full disclosure, I was ready to admit that “Mandota” is hardly more than a filler track to pad the latter half of the mix. But listening to it now, placed in the framework of this collection I think it works quite well here. It would be easy to dismiss the track as an trivial studio jam that Gaye’s musicians dicked around with while he was off packing a bowl on the couch or something, but regardless of the singer’s level of input, I think it’s a fine little instrumental from the Let’s Get It On (1973) master reels.

If there’s an underlying, secondary theme to this mix it’s this: there truly is a wealth of long-forgotten jewels buried in the second sides of out-of-print soul records from 30 to 40 years ago, so by all means, don’t be afraid to delve into them. As deep as my familiarity runs with my precious Love Unlimited platters, I somehow didn’t discover “Gotta Be Where You Are” until a few months ago. It was almost as if I was hearing these ladies for the first time again, such was my elation. I can’t imagine sequencing this song anywhere else but as the all-important mixtape closer. Enjoy.

It all started, casually enough, when my wife remarked, “I’d bet Underworld would make for good workout music,” during a discussion of what to stock the iPod Shuffle with before heading to the gym. I don’t remember much after that, as synapses immediately began firing and I became lost in my own wild, mixtape-obsessive thoughts, suddenly furiously determined to tackle my goal of crafting the ultimate Underworld workout mix.  For those in the dark, Underworld – comprised of the core duo of Karl Hyde and Rick Smith – was the premier electronic act of the ’90s (barely edging out those Hartnoll brothers and Alex Paterson), yet perhaps their most impressive feat is how little their music has dated since their heyday fifteen years ago, at least to these ears.  More importantly, and for our purposes here, the bpm count works wonders for shaving off a few calories.  I spent more time and microscopic tinkering on this mix than was certainly necessary but overall I’m pleased with it, and would be proud to offer it as an Underworld primer for novices in lieu of its inherent function as strictly “workout music.”

Underworld: An Eraser of Love 62:44 (.zip - 113.98 MB at 192 kbps)

Born Slippy .NUXX
Push Upstairs
King of Snake
Pearls’ Girl
Jumbo
Born Slippy .NUXX (Paul Oakenfold Mix)
Spoon Deep
Two Month’s Off
Kiteless
Cups
Dark & Long (Dark Train)
Cherry Pie
Dinosaur Adventure 3D
Jumbo (Future Shock Worlds Apart Mix)
Cowgirl
Cowgirl (Winjer Mix)
Mo Move
Beautiful Burnout (Mark Knight Mix)
Dirty Epic (Dirty Guitar Mix)
Tiny Clicks

What’s that?  A mix summary in 601 words?  Sure, I’ll give it a shot:

An Eraser of Love can be subdivided into three tempo-dictated sections, each one roughly 20 minutes in duration.  At ~140 bpm, “Born Slippy. NUXX” was really the most fitting way to kick things off, and if its dirty, thunderous kick doesn’t raise your blood pressure in the slightest, don’t bother with the rest of the mix.  Most know it from Trainspotting (1996), and it’s the cut that encapsulates everything that Underworld was about during their prime.  ”Push Upstairs” was never my favorite of the group’s run of singles (Hyde’s vocal effect is too borderline hammy for my taste), but it worked well in the sequencing here.  The gated, screeching wail that skyrockets across “King of Snake,” however, never gets stale.  ”Pearl’s Girl” was my jam back in my late teens; the drum programming alone was revelatory then and still sounds fresh today. Its searing intensity subsides into “Jumbo,” easily one of my top five favorite Underworld cuts. Those pads are like a warm sunshower in late spring.  Paul Oakenfold’s remix of a revisited “Born Slippy. NUXX” in 2003 was the only reason worth picking up that single – nothing could top the original, and attempting to ‘modernize’ it was one of the more questionable moves in the group’s career. I’ve never cared for Oakenfold’s glossy techno-by-numbers but his remix is a fitting conclusion to the first third of the mix, mostly because the blend from the coda in “Jumbo” worked shockingly well.  (I added the brief “Spoon Deep” underneath for atmosphere.)

“Two Months Off,” at ~134 bpm, brings the light in to open the second part of the mix. The subtlety with which this track builds on top of itself is astonishing, and it even sports a cowbell to boot.  I would have liked to incorporate more of the “Juanita/Kiteless/To Dream of Love” juggernaut here, but the midsection was the only part that I could utilize, to say nothing of its seamless juxtaposition with the outro from “Cups.” In all likelihood, I would have probably discarded the entire mix altogether if “Dark & Long (Dark Train)” wasn’t able to make it to the party; another top fiver for sure.  ”Cherry Pie” always made me wish it substituted for its inferior sibling “Rowla” on Second Toughest in the Infants (1996).  ”Dinosaur Adventure 3D,” much like sleepers “Kittens” and “Confusion the Waitress,” was a grower for me and remains one of the meager few applications of Auto-Tune that I’m able to stomach these days.

The clouds suddenly part for the Future Shock Worlds Apart Mix of “Jumbo,” which might as well be subtitled “Ibiza at Sunset.”  The compression is almost overwhelming here, just as much of an instrument as the keys or vocals.  This remix introduces the final third of the mix, which pulses along at ~129 bpm.  Is there another cut in the Underworld oeuvre that overflows with more ecstatic and carefree fun than “Cowgirl“? Its mandatory presence is followed by the “Winjer Mix” because I needed a transition to the hypnotic and sexual “Mo Move,” another personal favorite and my vote for greatest album opener in their discography.  The relatively recent Oblivion with Bells (2007) is the only full-length that isn’t represented here; the moody, introspective atmosphere of most of its selections wasn’t exactly workout-friendly.  Mark Knight’s remix of “Beautiful Burnout” (from Oblivion’s sister album of remixes The Bells The Bells [2008]), on the other hand, blended too perfectly with “Mo Move” to ignore.  ”Dirty Epic (Dirty Guitar Mix)” concludes the mix proper on a lighter, more buoyant note, with the underrated, beatless B-side “Tiny Clicks” serving as a brief afterthought. Enjoy.

Provided my memory is still relatively intact 50 years from now, I imagine that when I look back at a lifetime’s worth of music consumption 2009 will best be characterized as The Year My Tastes Finally Narrowed. Up until now – for the past 20 years, actually – I’ve strived, often with some difficulty, to listen to the widest possible variety of music I could expose my ears to. (A glace at this site’s archives confirms this.) Few genres or styles were off-limits and my tastes were generally dictated by commonplace variables: mood, weather, time of day or year. I used to get a kick out of creating cryptically thematic playlists that incorporated songs from Cocteau Twins to Caetano Veloso, Satyricon to Sadat X, with Andrew Hill in the middle there somewhere.

It’s probably a good thing that I officially eased Floodwatchmusic into a state of semi-retirement a year ago, because I could have never predicted that my personal life in 2009 would be as wild as it turned out to be. When the year began I was slogging through 15-hour workdays to make ends meet. Over the course of the next twelve months I became a father, sold my house, quit my job, and packed and moved my family 800 miles away from New England, which had been my home for the past eight years. Sadly, the little corner of the Internet known as floodwatchmusic.com didn’t stand a chance at getting any attention from its curator. Yet even if I had been contributing here, its doubtful I would have been able to come up with anything possessing a modicum of depth or substance. I hardly listened to any new jazz, contented with my usual explorations of late-60s Blue Notes, the bottomless discography of Sun Ra, and the occasional Concord or Impulse! reissue. After years of desperation, I finally gave up on resuscitating the corpse of contemporary hip hop and concluded with a sad sobriety that it’s just not my thing anymore. “Indie” rock? Please. The endless range of sub-genres falling under the “electronic” banner? Yawn. Old soul and funk records provided a welcome solace every once in a while this past summer, but I hardly ventured outside of my familiar standards.

Metal was and currently remains really the only thing that excites me anymore. I spent week after week of 2009 delving into and rediscovering “classic” catalogs that I had up until then only skimmed the surface of: Morbid Angel, Pestilence, Atheist. I anticipated release dates, scoured for online interviews, transcribed songs, talked shop and/or shit on message boards, and curled up in bed with the latest issues of Decibel. I’m still not sure what prompted this sea change in my tastes – I’d always expected them to soften with age or (especially) fatherhood – but one can’t account for even their own, I suppose. And truth be told, I’m satisfied with where I’ve landed, despite my wife’s eye-rolling chagrin at times.

While it was a better year for metal than recent years past, 20 top picks seemed like too many; conversely, ten would have been unfulfilling. So here are my top 15, with a .zip file of all the audio tracks at the bottom.

15. Skeletonwitch
Breathing the Fire
Prosthetic 2009

Third time’s the charm, as they say. I’d been waiting for Skeletonwitch to fulfill the potential displayed on previous full-lengths At One with the Shadows (2004) and Beyond the Permafrost (2007), and Breathing the Fire (2009) finally lives up to its undeniably badass cover art, which has become a well-established tradition by this stage. I feel compelled to note that I’m not a subscriber to the popular NWOTHM movement (of which Skeletonwitch have unwittingly become the poster children for), generally content to revisit a classic like, say, Dark Angel’s Darkness Descends (1986) whenever I get the occasional fix, but when taken for what it is – incredibly tasty ear candy, as far as I’m concerned – Breathing the Fire serves its purpose admirably. Jack Endino’s (remember him?) production is a refreshing change of pace from the overcompressed sterility of most metal releases these days: dry but not trebly and emphasizing clarity over volume. It remains to been seen whether or not this record will have any longevity to it – Permafrost had a pretty short shelf life for me – but for now I’m enjoying the hell out of it.

“The Despoiler of Human Life” – Skeletonwitch 2:24 (Breathing the Fire, Prosthetic 2009)

14. Ulcerate
Everything Is Fire
Willowtip 2009

What a dismissive snot I was when I first heard Everything Is Fire (2009). There I was listening intently, stroking my chin in between sips of chamomile tea, and all I could respond with was a faux-authoritative “Sorry gents, but I believe a little band called Gorguts already beat you at this game over a decade ago. Ever heard of them?” Something kept calling me back to Ulcerate’s brand of hyperkinetic chaos-in-motion, however, and a dozen listens later I was chastising my kneejerk indifference to this marvelous record. I’m sure someone’s already penned some absurd descriptor like “thinking man’s metal” for the jagged monuments of dissonance here, but Everything Is Fire impedes sound, cognitive thinking and instead leaves the average listener in a dumbfounded state of shock, wondering how such music could be capable of inflicting actual bodily harm. Why do I pretend that I don’t fawn over shit like this?

“Withered and Obsolete” – Ulcerate 6:11 (Everything Is Fire, Prosthetic 2009)

13. Saros
Acrid Plains
Profound Lore 2009

I love it when debuts sound so effortlessly accomplished that they feel like swan songs. San Francisco quartet Saros’ Acrid Plains (2009) is one of those records, which was introduced to me by an enthusiastic Cosmo over at Invisible Oranges. Led by guitarist and vocalist Leila Abdul-Rauf, Saros play a kind of progressive death with subtle black and thrash metal flavors, eschewing flash and fire for mood and structure (much like fellow Bay Area outfit Ludicra). Which isn’t to say that they’re not technically accomplished: the songwriting clearly reflects Abdul-Rauf’s formal training in composition, the leads (shared with guitarist Ben Aguilar) are strong and brimming with confidence, and drummer Blood Eagle contributes a tastefully restrained performance. I’d prefer the production to have a little more bite to it, but that’s a minor quibble and a forgotten one when traversing the breadth of epics like “The Sky Will End Soon” and “Coriolis.” Highlight: the chilling acoustic chamber piece “As The Tyrant Falls Ill (Reprise)” was a complete curveball and sold me on Acrid Plains instantly.

“Devouring Conscience” – Saros 5:30 (Acrid Plains, Profound Lore 2009)

12. Napalm Death
Time Waits for No Slave
Century Media 2009

The Napalm Death institution has been in a sort of stylistic holding pattern since 2000’s career-resuscitating Enemy of the Music Business, and Time Waits for No Slave (2009) is hardly an about-face at this juncture. But I suppose if you’re going to stagnate, this is the way to do it: running through cycles of vicious hardcore riffs at a seething, unrelenting intensity with nary a moment of relief in sight. Sure, it can be a bit much by track twelve or so, but how many other musicians in their forties are putting out records like this? (As an aside, it is absolutely criminal that Danny Herrera isn’t widely recognized as one of the premier metal drummers of the past quarter-century.) Don’t forget to breathe between tracks.

“Work to Rule” – Napalm Death 3:17 (Time Waits for No Slave, Century Media 2009)

11. Gorgoroth
Quantos Possunt ad Satanitatem Trahunt
Regain 2009

What a surprise this one was. I’ve never been a fan of Gorgoroth’s, chiefly due to their cheap notoriety and (now ex-vocalist/buffoon) Gaahl’s ass-clownery, to say nothing of an endless string of mediocre releases that barely cracked the half-hour mark each. But with vocalist Pest back into the fold and Infernus regaining his stunning compositional gifts, Quantos Possunt (2009) was hard to overlook. To these ears the guitar work is immediately reminiscent of prime-era Dissection, so I was sold on this one almost instantly. Well, that and the fact that there’s no longer a member of the band credited as “King ov Hell.”  Honestly, Quantos was completely unexpected and probably 2009’s biggest eye-opener for me.

“New Breed” – Gorgoroth 5:29 (Quantos Possunt ad Satanitatem Trahunt, Regain 2009)

10. Behemoth
Evangelion
Nuclear Blast 2009

The appeal of Evangelion (2009), like most of Behemoth’s post-millennial output, firmly adheres to one of the time-honored George Costanza principles: “I like things I don’t have to think too much about.” It’s catchy as hell, bursting with thunderous stop-start riffing, passages of hyper-tremelo’ed madness, shout-along choruses, and machine-gun blastbeats. It’s flawlessly executed – Inferno’s drumming remains impossible to fathom – and could only be a product of today’s high-tech digital recording environment. It attacks relentlessly and from every angle with a beefy, keep-the-levels-in-the-red mixing job from the legendary Colin Richardson. In short, it’s the epitome of metal excess, and most elitists will rightfully snub their collective noses at it. Meanwhile, I’ll be utilizing Evangelion to carelessly push the limits of any nearby speakers, all the while making a face akin to catching a whiff of moldy cheese and nodding my head senselessly.

“Transmigrating Beyond Realms ov Amenti” – Behemoth 3:28 (Evangelion, Nuclear Blast 2009)

9. Tribulation
The Horror
Pulverised 2009

“Derivative,” “unoriginal,” “formulaic garbage,” blah, blah, blah. I heard the criticisms and I still couldn’t be bothered. While Sweden’s Tribulation admittedly gets zero points for originality, I can’t deny the tingling sensation that inches its way down my spine once The Horror (2009) throttles into full gear. I probably had more fun listening to this half-hour melodeath shitstorm than any other record this past year. Feast on its delights: meaty riffs that tear flesh from bone, masturbatory solos that incorporate everything from 32nd notes to two-finger tapping, blasphemous lyrics of the utmost filth, and cavernous drums that sounded like they were recorded during the Wolverine Blues (1993) sessions, each cymbal choke knocking the wind out of you. Is it too early to demand an immediate follow-up from these guys?

“Beyond the Horror” – Tribulation 3:53 (Tribulation, Pulverised 2009)

8. Suffocation
Blood Oath
Nuclear Blast 2009

My ticket may read Suffocation: Blood Oath (2009), but it might as well be a front row seat to The Terrance Hobbs Show, as far as I’m concerned. Nothing against longtime vocalist Frank Mullen or the airtight rhythm section of Mike Smith (drums) and Derek Boyer (bass), but for my money Suffocation has always been about Hobbs and whoever happens to be playing guitar with him – Guy Marchais, in this case (original guitarist Doug Cerrito held it down for Suffo v1.0 in the ‘90s). Seriously, just listen to these guitars. Violently sparring with each other in dexterous discordance one second, scraping the intestines of hell with riffs of dripping sludge the next. I actually have a piece of scrap paper around here somewhere with scrawls like “#7, 0:47” and “#5, 3:16” that a passing eye might mistake for random Bible passages, but are actually “riff reminders” for this record. Blood Oath includes yet another re-recorded cut from Breeding the Spawn (1993) (“Marital Decimation”), presumably not for a lack of ideas but to show the linearity in a career that’s nearing two decades now. Not to be the incessant compared-to-past-work guy, but this is the group’s finest moment since Pierced from Within (1995) – and if that album stomped your ass to a pulp years ago like it did mine, you’ll find plenty to like here.

“Images of Purgatory” – Suffocation 3:28 (Blood Oath, Nuclear Blast 2009)

7. Cobalt
Gin
Profound Lore 2009

No other metal label is experiencing such a winning streak at the moment like Canada’s Profound Lore. In fact, I was slightly nervous that this year’s best-of would read like little more than a label roll-call: Krallice, Hammers of Misfortune, Portal, the aforementioned Saros, YOB, and Nadja, among others. Their shining star at the moment, however, is Colorado duo Cobalt, who are already topping year-end lists with Gin (2009), one of the more bizarre offerings the metalsphere has seen in quite a while. Billed as “war metal” and sporting a sepia-toned Ernest Hemingway on its cover (to whom the record is dedicated), Gin is extreme metal at is most violent, malicious, and sexually perverse. As the story goes, multi-instrumentalist Erik Wunder wrote, arranged, and recorded Gin while vocalist Phil McSorley was completing tours as an Army sergeant in Korea and Iraq, recording his contributions during his brief stints on leave. Miraculously, there is no trace of the tired and hopelessly-clichéd black metal bedroom auteur here, but instead a fully-formed, ravenous beast of a record that demands multiple listens for any hope of penetrating its thick skin. An appearance by Jarboe halfway through “Pregnant Insect” is fitting for the proceedings, moaning a reprise of “Mother/Father” from Swans’ The Great Annihilator (1995) – a clear influence on Cobalt’s direction, along with the odd-signatured tribal rhythms of Tool and the moody dirges of Neurosis. Gin’s opacity is almost too much to digest in one sitting, but then again, comfort is far from its intent. There were better records this year, sure, but none of them left me as uneasy as this one.

“Dry Body” – Cobalt 8:58 (Gin, Profound Lore 2009)

6. Nile
Those Whom the Gods Detest
Nuclear Blast 2009

And to think that I’d all but given up on Nile after the disappointing (and sadly, liner note-free) Ithyphallic (2007). But I picked up Those Whom the Gods Detest (2009) at Earshot Records in Greenville, SC one day this past fall for three reasons: 1) I saw a poster for an upcoming in-store autograph appearance, which reminded me of the new release, 2) I’d read online somewhere that it was a fine “return to form,” and 3) the disc was on sale and nothing else was piquing my interest. It wasn’t until track five, the immense “4th Arra of Dagon,” which mops the fucking floor with any sludge/doom band in recent memory, that I realized the stars had finally aligned and I was in the presence of greatness. Hell, at the risk of blasphemy I’m willing to call it Nile’s finest outing to date, surpassing their near-perfect masterwork Annihilation of the Wicked (2005) because the production is infinitely better, the riffs and songwriting never falter, and drummer George Kollias is now a monstrous force to be reckoned with (the album’s opening blast beat is a reputed 280 beats per minute). “Novelty act,” my ass.

“4th Arra of Dagon” – Nile 8:40 (Those Whom the Gods Detest, Nuclear Blast 2009)

5. Drudkh
Microcosmos
Season of Mist 2009

Seven full-lengths into their calling and Drudkh’s allure remains as beautiful and mysterious as always.  (There’s still no official website for the band, they refuse to publish their lyrics [taken from the works of various Ukrainian poets] or give interviews, and most of their discography is near-impossible to acquire affordably.) The bulk of Microcosmos (2009) is comprised of four ten-minute monoliths and should hardly be a surprise to any longtime follower of the band, which in turn means that it will likely bore the hell out of unsuspecting newcomers, who will either recoil at its warm intimacy or stand bewildered at its vast expanses. It’s difficult to pinpoint what draws me to Drudkh’s class of pagan black metal: it could be the endlessly swirling textures, the unexpected major keys, its unassuming candor, the transcendent repetition, or perhaps a combination of any of the above. Maybe it’s the fact that Drudkh seem to be completely unaware of the present; Microcosmos sounds like it could have been performed and recorded at any point in the last twenty years. Call them timeless, peerless, or simply clueless. Personally, I found few things more satisfying this past autumn than waiting for a late afternoon with overcast skies, grabbing my headphones, and losing myself in this album.

“Ars Poetica” – Drudkh 9:48 (Microcosmos, Season of Mist 2009)

4. Immortal
All Shall Fall
Nuclear Blast 2009

In theory, all should have fell in the Immortal camp. I thought 2002’s Sons of Northern Darkness was a fitting conclusion to Immortal’s legacy, so when rumors began circulating last year about another entry in their catalogue, I shook my head in dismay (I found Between Two Worlds [2006], Abbath’s side project under the moniker I, to be a mild disappointment). Yet once the massive guitars on All Shall Fall’s (2009) opening salvo roared from my speakers all doubts were instantly quelled, and by the 2:50 mark I was giggling out loud in ecstasy. “Arctic Swarm”? “The Rise of Darkness”? The expectations haven’t changed and neither has the artillery: layers of flesh-searing guitars which slash and burn across the frozen tundra, exhilarating drum work from Horgh so precise you could set your watch to it, and Abbath’s usual croaks about Blashyrkh, Nordic battles, and the like. All hail. Nonbelievers can show themselves the way out to the gallows.

“All Shall Fall” – Immortal 5:58 (All Shall Fall, Nuclear Blast 2009)

3. Converge
Axe to Fall
Epitaph 2009

When was the last time the opening track – hell, the entire first half of a record – was this flat-out astonishing? “Dark Horse” is about as perfect as three minutes have ever been able to encompass, and the rest of Axe to Fall (2009) ain’t half-bad either, trust me. It wasn’t until sometime around “Wishing Well” that I was able to regain the power of speech upon first hearing this record, shocked into silence by Converge’s dizzying intensity – specifically, Ben Koller’s drumming, which could trigger natural disasters on a national scale if utilized properly. I was initially put off by the guest list and the much-publicized “collaborative” nature of the album, but the appearances (by members of Cave In, Genghis Tron, Steve von Till from Neurosis, et al) are skillfully incorporated into the songwriting without sacrificing the flow of the album (and are mostly saved for the end). And granted, I’ll hardly be the first in line to support those two experimental closing tracks, which effectively grind the machine to an abrupt and somewhat unwelcome halt, but I’ll readily give the band credit for trying something different – and the first 11 tracks are so mind blowing that I’ve more or less been numbed into ecstasy by that point anyway. Despite an overwhelming tidal wave of hype, Axe to Fall didn’t disappoint in the slightest.

“Dark Horse” – Converge 2:55 (Axe to Fall, Epitaph 2009)

2. The Chasm
Farseeing the Paranormal Abysm
Lux Inframundis 2009

Is there a contemporary metal outfit more underrated than The Chasm? These Chicagoans-by-way-of-Mexico have been gathering quite the cult following since their inception over fifteen years ago, and for good reason: they’re jaw-droppingly phenomenal. Since the turn of the decade the trio’s thrash/death hybrid has gradually been integrated into labyrinthine song structures with prog tendencies that nearly reach levels of absurdity in their scope and complexity; hell, over half of the cuts on Farseeing the Paranormal Abysm (2009) are instrumental. Recorded with a loose, raw ferocity that eschews today’s rampant and near-ubiquitous Pro-Tools precision for actual human feeling, this is metal of the highest caliber, at its purest, most distilled essence: no soaring clean vocals, fluffy keyboards, or bullshit slam breakdowns mid-song.  Countless listens later and I can still disappear inside this record.  Find a fault with it, I dare you.  (Well, other than the fact that it’s currently out of print, with no known repressing date; check the band’s site for updates.)

“Entering a Superior Dimension” – The Chasm 8:25 (Farseeing the Paranormal Abysm, Lux Inframundis 2009)

1. Blut aus Nord
Memoria Vetusta II: Dialogue with the Stars
Candlelight 2009

I’ve been sitting here in front of my keyboard for twenty minutes now trying to find a way to even begin describing this record. “Masterpiece” almost sounds laughable, a joyless understatement. When recommending it to a friend this past spring I told him Memoria Vetusta II (2009) was “like watching the end of the world explode into violent bursts of kaleidoscopic color instead of fire and rock,” which is evidently still the best quotable I can come up with; further attempts tend to involve more trite apocalyptic references, lame supernatural allusions, cosmic phenomena and other arcane shit that sounds impressive but I ultimately have little or no knowledge of. So here are the basics, for those who need them. Blut aus Nord are, loosely put, a reclusive French black metal band. In their fifteen-year existence they’ve released half a dozen full-lengths that, up until now, have grown progressively weirder and more avant-garde; many listeners have deemed past albums such as The Work Which Transforms God (2003) and especially MoRT (2006) as “industrial noise” and more or less unlistenable. Back in 1996 the band released Memoria Vetusta I – Fathers of the Icy Age, a much tamer beast in comparison and which has become a kind of sleeper black metal classic. Dialogue with the Stars is that record’s intended successor, and after a decade of highly-dissonant, free-form chaos that pushed boundaries and conventions alike, no one knew what to expect prior to its release this past February.

Memoria Vetusta II cycles through nine tracks in little under an hour. There are no live drums, only a programmed machine, and there is no way around it. The vocals are unintelligible. There is no lyric sheet. Half of the tracks push the ten-minute mark. Passages of head-spinning dissonance collide with soaring melodic leads, clusters of harmonic tension suddenly release into expansive diatonic vistas. Sephardic and Eastern-European folk scales are incorporated into thick atmospheric textures where notes and rhythms blend into a tapestry of sound so rich you could almost run your fingertips through it. Musically, the whole thing is fucking breathtaking. As far as black metal goes it has no peers – perhaps Emperor’s Anthems to the Welkin at Dusk (1997) could be argued as similar company, though its aggression sounds terrestrial and brutish when viewed alongside Memoria Vetusta II’s graceful and elegiac majesty.

This is the best music I’ve heard in years – superseding anything on any year-end list you’ll find on this site – and it couldn’t have made its appearance at a more fitting time in my personal life. It’s also clearly not for everyone, but I’m the last person you’ll find adopting a stance of self-righteous condescension, claiming that Memoria Vetusta II possesses that fleeting, indefinable quality that some will “get” while others, well, I’ll generously reserve some pity for. I listened to this album and little else religiously for nearly four months straight and I’m no closer to “getting” it than when I first heard it, though if pressed I could provide my own rambling, scatterbrained theories derived from the various time-signature patterns, modes, scales, and even the Vedic undertones in the song titles.  In the end it boils down to raw emotion, and I confess, somewhat sheepishly and well aware of the risk of absurdity, that I’ve actually wept while listening to Memoria Vetusta II on more than one occasion. That an album classified under the umbrella of “avant-garde black metal” could bring me to tears is either an undeniable testament to its awesome power or a telltale indication of an unstable and deteriorating emotional state.  I’m hoping it’s the former.

“The Formless Sphere (Beyond the Reason)” – Blut aus Nord 9:28 (Memoria Vetusta II: Dialogue with the Stars, Candlelight 2009)

Download all:

Floodwatchmusic.com Best of 2009 97:46 (.zip – 79.65 MB at 128 kbps)