Hallgatom sokat az új Barbears lemezt, és van, hogy pontosan tudom, mit kellene írnom róla, máskor meg nem találok megfelelő kifejezéseket – csak annyit, hogy: Wow. Ezt persze így nem lehet leírni, mert elég rövid lenne.

Az Enter The Bear óta eltelt 15 év. Közben ugyan megjelent egy dal Blanár Levivel, de nagylemez szinten… vártunk. Tíz évet. Voltak koncertek, történt változás az énekes poszton is, és persze Laciék sem unatkoztak ez idő alatt. A kérdés adott volt: megérte-e ezt a hosszú böjtöt kivárni?

A Bearzerker Blues szinte a semmiből bukkant fel, pedig érezhetően rengeteg munka van mögötte. Az első pofon rögtön a borító. A korábbi, Star Wars-szerű felirat eltűnt, helyette egy olyan vizuál érkezett, amely tökéletesen tükrözi a lemez beltartalmát. Burg Balázs munkája nemcsak erős, hanem kifejezetten passzol a Bearzerker fogalmához. A berserker ugye az a harcos, aki őrjöngő, transzszerű állapotban küzd, félelem nélkül, extrém agresszióval – és hát ott áll a pentagram előtt a férfi mögött az üvöltő medve… ennyi. Több nem is kell.

 Zeneileg az anyag rendkívül tömény. Még akkor is, ha időnként felbukkannak lazább részek, összességében egy nehezen emészthető, súlyos lemez született. Ebben komoly szerepe van Molnár Zoltánnak, aki új énekesként nem egyszerűen beilleszkedett, hanem karakteresen rá is nyomta a bélyegét az anyagra. Az énektémák hol ösztönösen vadak, hol súlyosan rátelepednek a riffekre, és nagyon jól illeszkednek ehhez a sűrű, iszapos hangzáshoz.

Én kimondottan szeretem az ilyesmit, mert idő kell hozzá – és pont ez az idő hozza ki, mitől is nagyszerű ez az album. Jól eltalált refrének és riffek hömpölyögnek elő az iszap alól. Ahogy mondani szokták: van íze, van bűze.

A korábbi dalok is remekül működtek, de a zenekar itt egyértelműen továbblépett. Megmaradt az eredeti vonal, viszont kapott egy sokkal maibb, izmosabb hangzást. Nem is nagyon lehet – vagy kell – külön dalokat kiemelni: mindig más ragad meg, hol az elementáris megszólalás, hol egy dallamosabb refrén.

Meg merem kockáztatni, hogy a Bearzerker Blues minden idők legjobban megszólaló magyar lemezei közül simán ott van a top 10-ben. Ennek a sludge/stoner remekműnek igenis van keresnivalója a nemzetközi színtéren. AMEN!

https://www.facebook.com/barbears

The Art of Anxiety

Before you even press play, look at the cover. That painting is by Zdzisław Beksiński, a Polish artist famous for his "dystopian surrealism." It looks like a nightmare you can’t wake up from decaying structures, skeletal figures, and a sky that feels suffocating.

I usually just glance at cover art on Spotify, but this one stopped me. It creates a perfect link to the music: the album is titled The Burden of Restlessness, and the art is the visual definition of being stuck in a bad mental loop. It’s not just a cool image; it’s a warning of the vibe you're about to step into.

Who Are These Guys?

King Buffalo is a trio from Rochester, New York (Sean McVay on guitar/vocals, Dan Reynolds on bass, Scott Donaldson on drums). They call themselves "heavy psych," but they aren't your typical loose, improvisational jam band.

This album, released in 2021, was the first part of their "Pandemic Trilogy." They locked themselves in a room during the lockdowns and just worked. While the world was pausing, they were grinding. I chose to write about this specific record because it captures that specific feeling of being trapped something I think we all still feel sometimes.

Finding the Pocket

This is where the album hooked me. It’s not about guitars; it’s about mechanics. If you strip away the distortion, this album is built on the same principle as a great beat tape. It’s all about pockets.

You know that feeling when a producer chops a sample perfectly and just lets it ride until you’re in a trance? King Buffalo does exactly that but with live instruments. The drummer and bassist are locked in so tight it creates this rolling, hypnotic momentum. It’s repetitive, yeah, but in the best way possible it forces you to nod your head.

Frontman Sean McVay isn't trying to be a rock god. His vocals are smooth, almost robotic, floating over the track like a melodic hook. He sings about "another year lost in the wasteland," and honestly? That disassociated, anxious feeling hits home for anyone our age trying to figure out the world right now.

The Key Songs

If you don't have time for the whole hour, just spin these two to get the picture:

"Burning": The opener. The beat is relentless. It feels like a clock ticking inside your head that won't stop.

"Locusts": This is the crossover. The guitar riff echoes like a synth. If you pitched this down and added trap drums, it could easily be a dark rap beat. The tension is suffocating.

The Verdict

The Burden of Restlessness isn't about chilling out; it's about the stress of being stuck in your own head. It’s sharp. It’s precise. It feels like it was cut with a laser, not a rusty knife.

I came for the assignment, but I stayed for the flow. This album proves that "heavy" isn't just about volume; it's about atmosphere. Whether you're a hip-hop head looking for a similar hypnotic rhythm, or a rocker looking for perfection, this is the bridge.

What’s Next? 

If you vibe with this, the good news is you don’t have to wait long for more. You can hop on your streaming platform right now and complete the "Pandemic Trilogy."

The Burden of Restlessness was just Part 1. They also dropped  Acheron  later in 2021 and  Regenerator  in 2022. Regenerator is still their latest full studio album.

I did some digging, and these guys aren’t slowing down. They just dropped a new single called "Balrog" late last year, which is basically the first taste of their new era. According to a recent report from New Noise Magazine, they’ve built their own studio and are currently cooking up a full-length album for a 2025 release.

Right now, they are on a massive tour supporting All Them Witches (another name I keep seeing everywhere in this scene). If they are hitting your city, that’s probably the best way to see what this "heavy psych" thing is about in person.

I’m curious to see if the new album keeps that precise, anxious energy or if they switch flows again. Until then, "Balrog" is out on streaming.

Keep spinning stoner music.

Meditative music — even for those who don’t touch any cannabis derivatives. It sits somewhere between Sleep’s hypnotic monotony and Electric Wizard’s downtuned, blues-soaked riff-orgies. But PHR dives even deeper: stripping today’s trendy doom/occult rock back to its bare, ancient bones.

 They take a killer riff, distort the hell out of it, slap a dick and some hair on it — then spin it in circles until it starts pulsing, throbbing, and comes alive. It turns into a two-legged, walking fuzz-beast. Primitive, filthy — yet strangely lovable.

There are plenty of nods to the Black Sabbath legacy, though more as a respectful salute than outright imitation. And you can hear a heavy dose of ’70s psychedelia too — maybe some Iron Butterfly vibes, or even a touch of Arthur Brown-level madness.

This is Pale Horse Ritual’s first full-length album: dark, dirty, raw — and if you crave the kind of truth that sends a shiver through your spine, Diabolic Formation is mandatory listening. AMEN!

If you mention Suplecs in an average stoner rock crowd, you won’t see many heads snap around. Add New Orleans to the mix and you still won’t cause a stampede. But that’s exactly why their comeback hits so hard:
after more than a decade of silence, the legendary NOLA riff-smiths return with the ferocious new single “No Apologies”, heralding their upcoming album Hymns Under A Blood Moon Sky.

Suplecs have always been the band that musicians whisper about with a grin — if Clutch is “the musicians’ favorite band,” then Suplecs is the legendary musicians’ favorite band. A trio forged in the humid Southern heat, touring with hairy-chested titans like Clutch, Alabama Thunderpussy, High On Fire, C.O.C., Gwar and Halfway To Gone, and playing a style that’s impossible to pin down: sludge, swamp, stoner metal? All true — yet none truly capture what Suplecs actually is.

More Than a Decade of Silence – Until Now

Their last studio album came out in 2011, and whatever happened afterward, it definitely wasn’t quiet contemplation in church pews.
No Apologies is proof: raw, heavy, and dripping with the unmistakable Suplecs groove. It’s a warning shot for what’s coming — a teaser for the new album dropping February 20, 2026, but already carrying more attitude than most bands muster in a lifetime.

How the Album Was Born: Noise Complaints, Late-Night Sessions and the NOLA Mythos

The album’s origin story reads like a New Orleans rock’n’roll folktale:

• The band began writing new material in the legendary Mid-City warehouse where Crowbar, Graveyard Rodeo and even The Meters once rehearsed.
• Then came the local “crazy artist lady” with her noise complaints — ironic for a room that literally forged the city’s sound.
• Forced out, Suplecs continued to work in secret, late at night, under the radar, shaping the album in that tense, semi-forbidden creative atmosphere.

They eventually recorded the album at High Tower Studios with James Whitten (High On Fire, Thou), one of the modern architects of the NOLA sound.

What to Expect From the New Album?

According to the band, the record will be highly diverse — but the intensity, punch and emotional weight stay constant throughout. The tracklist promises shifts and contrasts that reflect everything Suplecs has ever embodied:

• Got Nothing – a Maiden-meets-Sabbath riff assault
• La Ti Da – a brass-backed New Orleans jazz-funeral march
• Blackwater Rising – tackling death, addiction, divorce and suicide
• I See You – Durel Yates’ heartfelt tribute to his mother
• No Apologies – the explosive first single turning heads already

If “diverse” means this level of energy across the whole album, then all we can say is: AMEN.

The Cover Art – A Piece of New Orleans History

The album cover features a 1960s painting by Danny Nick’s father, Richard “D.Nick” Nick, depicting Jean Lafitte’s Blacksmith Shop — a key location in the 1812 Battle of New Orleans.
The title, Hymns Under A Blood Moon Sky, mirrors the band’s own story: outsiders who are still inseparable from the city’s lifeblood.

Legacy and Return

Suplecs isn’t a name printed in massive letters on every festival poster — but those who know, know. They’re foundational to the stoner/sludge underground.
From their Man’s Ruin Records beginnings to producers like Jimmy Bower, Dave Fortman and Pepper Keenan, and tours with the American heavy-rock elite, their reputation has always exceeded their fame.

Now, after more than a decade, they’re returning with an album that isn’t meant to simply be heard —
it’s meant to be lived through. AMEN!

https://www.facebook.com/p/SUPLECS-100063769833972/

https://www.facebook.com/theripplemusic/

For quite some time now I’ve been circling around the music of Portland’s LáGoon. They’ve carved out a modest yet unmistakable cult status in the underground, but even after all these years I still struggle to place them neatly on my personal musical map. Punk, skate, doom, psych — all of these labels fit them, sometimes from song to song, sometimes within the same track. Their sound is chaotic in theory, yet strangely cohesive in practice; an instinct-driven blend that only a few bands can genuinely pull off.

The turning point in their evolution arrived with Father of Death. Originally a duo, LáGoon expanded into a full-fledged power trio during this era — and that shift is immediately audible. The addition of a new bassist didn’t just thicken the sonic texture; it grounded the entire project. The noisy, garage-forward edge of their early days snapped into focus. Suddenly the chaos had depth, the riffs had weight, and the band had a clearer sense of direction.

Their earlier record, Maa Kali Trip, was loud, raw, even feral at times — a fuzz-drenched punch to the ribs. But despite all its muscle, it lacked the deeper dimension that makes a record linger in the listener’s mind. Father of Death is where that missing depth finally arrived. It’s tighter, heavier, and more atmospheric without sacrificing the abrasive charm that defines LáGoon.

With a runtime just shy of 26 minutes, some might call it too short. I’d argue the opposite. In a world moving faster than most of us can keep up with, fewer and fewer listeners sit down for a full-length album experience. This EP is the perfect length to stay engaging without slipping into repetition — and if it hooks you, you’ll replay it anyway… then again… and again.

Father of Death is more than a strong power-trio debut. It’s the sound of a band crossing that invisible threshold between being “a good garage act” and becoming something with staying power. A record where identity snaps into place. A snapshot of a group discovering its true form. AMEN!

https://www.facebook.com/LaGoonPDX/