Aural Fixations

HIGH ON FIRE
Blessed Black Wings
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There's heavy and then there's heavy. Forget alleged leading lights like Lamb of God or Shadows Fall. On its third album Blessed Black Wings, California's High On Fire blasts past any simple designations like "stoner rock" or even "metal" into its own rarefied stratosphere of tonnage. Like Black Sabbath, an obvious inspiration but hardly the only guiding light, HOF makes a huge noise with simple tools. Matt Pike's licks revolve around constantly shifting power chord shapes and his solos involve simply moving frenzied hammer-ons up and down the neck. Yet the sound coming from these easy motions erects a volcano of distortion and scree—it's the intensity that matters, not the finesse. The guitars slam the riffs into the ground, dragging them through the soil until they're good and dirty, then slamming them against a nearby tree to clean them back up again. The drums bash, crash and pound—does Des Kensel even own a snare?—while ex-Melvin Joe Preston's bass throbs unmercifully. Pike shouts his apocalyptic fantasies through a mouthful of tree bark—his aggressive sermons just keep getting crustier. Sure, there's a bit of acoustic guitar at the beginning of "To Cross the Bridge," but it barely qualifies as a respite before the cymbals start clashing away. Tunes like "Silver Back," "Devilution" and the title track rip redwoods out by the roots and use 'em for toothpicks. Of course, there's the matter of the lyrics; I have to wonder just what the hell Pike is on about when he sings "Necromatic lunatics/Murder of the innocents/Stepping on the curse/Inflicting its beastious wounds" on "Cometh Down Hessian." (Beastious?) Not that it matters much—HOF is all about the crushing power of the music, and the trio has never been as planet-smashing as it is here. There's heavy, and then there's High On Fire. Michael Toland [buy it]