I’ve been a fan of CARDINALS FOLLY for a long time. I don’t know, it’s something about their sound that presents doom in a manner unlike any other. With that in mind, I can’t wait for the Finland trio to play Doomed & Stoned Festival this weekend at Indiana City Beer! Mikko Kääriäinen (guitar, vox), Juho Kilpelä (bass), and Joni Takkunen (drums) will also put on a few select performances in Milwaukee, Chicago, and Indianapolis. Look for their upcoming split with Lucifer’s Fall a few months from now on Cruz Del Sur Music. Today, Doomed & Stoned is proud to debut a brand new track from Cardinals Folly. Give ear to the weird, Gothic charm of “Walvater Proclaimed!” and check out my interview with Mikko below!

You’re hopping on a plan today for your first ever visit to the United States. What are your feelings in this moment?

I only wish they would serve free drinks onboard. Otherwise it´s either gonna be a long or expensive flight. Or both? We´re excited, but I think the actual sparks will fly once we´re there.

You’re playing Doomed & Stoned Festival and a few other shows, as well, correct?

Yes, Doomed & Stoned Festival, along with few other shows in the Midwest, such as Milwaukee and Chicago.

What have Cardinals Folly been working on since the last album?

We´ve been writing our fifth full-length album slowly, along with few tracks for the split with Lucifer´s Fall that we recorded a month ago. That one will be released by Cruz Del Sur Music as Vinyl & CD this winter. Also, we played few festivals in Austria & Germany, supported great bands like Spiritus Mortis and Count Raven in Finland, and just completed a small tour with Serpent Warning in Finland as well. Things have been busier than ever before, and that´s ideal…

What can you tell us about the song we’re premiering today??

“Walvater Proclaimed!” is from the upcoming split LP with Lucifer´s Fall, and it´s a hazily epic doom-waltz to the world of the occult and Nordic darkness, northern attitude. The song basically follows the lore of “Walvater Unveiled” from our second album “Our Cult Continues!” (2014) and also the runic themes from “Secret of the Runes” that was on previous album “Deranged Pagan Sons” (2017). That side of our works. Tap into the mood, and let it guide you out of these dreaded lives with its genuine mysticism, earthly mana and arctic passion. Walvater is Lord!

Cardinals Folly Live!

• Thursday, October 4th - Sabbatic in Milwaukee
• Friday, October 5th - Reggies in Chicago
• Saturday, October 6th - Doomed & Stoned Fest in Indiana

Once again, I have made the pilgrimage across the sea to one of the many riff filled lands, Camden Town, home of the legendary Desertfest London. Though the journey was long, it was just as worth it as last year. The folks behind Desertfest have delivered yet another blistering festival stacked with bands spanning across all the subgenres of a stoner’s fantasy. With centrally located venues both small and large, yet all feeling personal, the atmosphere is natural and free flowing. I’d like to take you through the fest and highlight some of my favorite performances of the weekend.

The first band to grace the Underworld stage was Old Man Lizard, delivering an excellent forty-five minutes of mind bending riffage. I had never heard of this band before the fest, but odd times that consistently caught me off guard paired with the intricate chord work of their guitar player Jack Newnham drew me in immediately and kept me satisfied throughout.

The next band that really got to me was Radio Moscow. Hailing from San Diego, these guys travelled further than I did to be there on day one of the fest, and they delivered with the rage that a transatlantic flight gives a person. They were the only band I was in the pit for that really got the crowd to go absolutely bananas. Forward moving bass riffs layered with tripped out Hendrix meets Jeff Beck guitar solos provided some serious inspiration to me as a musician.

The absolute heaviest tone I experienced throughout the weekend was dished out by none other than Dead Witches. A supergroup of sorts, employing ex-Electric Wizard member Mark Greening on drums, Dead Witches showcased their talent to create a very grim atmosphere. I’ve never particularly been a fan of their recorded material, but I wanted to check out the live sound anyways and I’m very glad that I did.

Another band I had never heard of, and possibly the most different sounding group from the lineup, was Steak Number Eight. I had no idea what to expect going in, but with the line for getting in to High On Fire being unreasonably long I thought I would go check these guys out instead. The music was interesting, stoner hardcore of sorts with very cool grooves and sounds, but what blew me away was the performance. Everyone in the band is fairly young and they were all running and jumping about the stage with belligerence in their blood. It made for a very entertaining set.

Onto Sunday, perhaps the most stacked lineup with my tastes. The only venue I spent time in this day was the Roundhouse, one of Camden’s oldest and most renowned venues. The lineup on this stage was absolutely insane. The first band to lay waste was Monolord, who I have been listening to for years but never had the opportunity to see prior. They exceeded all expectations and brought forth one of the heaviest yet trippy sets I’ve ever seen. Crushing bass and drum sound paired with souring delay and reverb soaked vocals made for an entrancing swirl of headbanging.

Immediately following Monolord was one of my favorite bands of all time: Elder. They are known for their intricate riffs and sound spectrum encompassing guitar work, and rightfully so. This was my third time seeing Elder but the first time seeing them with their recently added fourth member. It was very cool to see this band with all the proper guitar harmonies included on ‘Reflections of a Floating World’ and ‘Lore’, and the synth work added a great layer to the sound. Also included was a projection of unrelenting tripped out, fractal infused visuals that were the icing on the cake.

The last band I saw of the weekend was the legendary Hawkwind. I’m honestly not all that familiar with their catalog, but knowing their influence I knew it was an opportunity I could not pass up. A regular drum/bass/guitar trio along with two synthesizer players, and vocals that were heavily soaked with several effects created an ever flowing sound that induced psychedelic feelings both in the mind and the body. The music was wonderful and very unique, it was a true treat to see this band while I had the chance.

Overall the experience was optimal for a festival, easy to navigate, constantly flowing, and never a shortage of great music. It went by quickly but days later my body is still recovering from the bustle and my ears are still recovering from the Doom. If you ever get the chance to experience this festival, it is well worth your time and money, and will provide you with a weekend of experiences you will never forget. Here are a few extra snaps I got that capture the vibe of the weekend.

The dust has settled after the brief but intensely memorable West Coast tour we were so fortunate to embark upon with our northerly brothers in Un. Billy Goate had asked me to possibly write something about it for Doomed & Stoned and I was honored to oblige. I hope that the readers will pardon any inane sentimentality or poor writing I produce, as I am not an expert in this art form the way that Billy and the regular writers for Doomed and Stoned are.

First, I want to say that this tour would not have happened without the tremendous DIY community of our friends, the bands and the promoters of West Coast underground metal and punk. I have always booked all of Usnea’s western U.S. tours myself, because it is a total buddy fest and this one was the culmination of all of that friendship and love. It was also all the more fantastic because Usnea had not been able to play many of these enclaves since our 2015 tour supporting Ufomammut, and in some cases not since 2014. During that time, we had been steadfastly focused on creating our latest record, Portals Into Futility, and on our two tours of Europe. Our full attention and resources as a band having been fully engaged with those undertakings, far too much time had elapsed since we saw our West Coast family. We have recently signed on with Ethan McCarthy over at Hexagram Booking, so this also served as our last truly DIY self-booked tour – for a while, at the very least.

Usnea is:

• Justin Cory (guitar, vocals)
• Joel Williams (bass, vocals)
• Zeke Rogers (drums)
• Johnny Lovingood (guitar)

Portland

Right out of the gates, the kick-off show in Portland was a great start for the tour. We decided to book it at the Twilight Cafe & Bar for a change of scenery, as our home venue has become the excellent Tonic Lounge and we were curious what kind of show we would have at another spot. It wasn’t so long ago that both Tonic and Twilight were considered “too far off the beaten path” by Portland underground standards, but gentrification and the swelling cost of living that resulted have changed that metric.

A classically drizzly spring evening in the Pacific Northwest, we unloaded the trailer Un had driven down from Seattle and set up our shared backline for the first of many times in the days to come. Sól opened the show up with their blistering sludge assault showing what a rising star of a band they are. We had the privilege of playing with them last summer at Northwest Terror Fest and they have only matured since their already stunning performance a year prior.

Un came on and brought the funeral gloom to the room with their mournful melodicism. Every night with those guys, Un’s expertly crafted set was impeccable, working its way into all the Usnea boys’ heads until those hooks and melodies were entrenched like the death-doom earworms they truly are. Their next record is going to blow many minds.

The crowd was a diverse and eclectic mix of faces old and new, owing partially to the venue, I presume, and we had a great reception for our set that evening. Feeling the catharsis of our music and the connection with our hometown community is a glorious thing – the perfect wind to cast our adventure to the South.

Oakland

After a measly two hours of “sleep,” we had to hit the road at 5 A.M. for our next show in Oakland, California. Given that we were hauling a trailer (California has a maximum speed limit of 55 MPH for vehicles with trailers) and eight people with bladders and appetites to satiate, we needed all of the cushion possible to make it there on time. The drive was pretty delirious, although the Un boys provided all with plenty of weed to nourish our power naps and the blanket fort-nest in the back of the van was a happy respite for a rotating cast of folks who got to sleep back there intermittently.

The show in Oakland was one mammoth of a bill, featuring five doom bands. The Golden Bull is a great space and Oakland has always been amazing to Usnea since our very first time there in 2012, and this time was absolutely the zenith of all of our shows at the venue. Normally, a five band bill is already overkill (unless we are talking a festival or mini-fest), especially when it’s five doom-sludge bands, but this night was exceptionally seamless. Usnea and Un decided to share our backline cabs with all of the bands (a practice that continued the entirety of the tour due to its efficiency) and Justin Ennis (The Golden Bull sound engineer and head booking agent) did an excellent job keeping the night on track. Each band blew us all away, starting with an evocative and punishing set by Body Void. Following them were Swamp Witch whose blistering occult sludge dragged everyone into the bog.

Rising out of the darkness, CHRCH illuminated the room with their crushing intensity and ritualistic brilliance. Vocalist Eva Rose has this entrancing quality that conjures a dark metal priestess. She is wholly unique unto herself, but I do love the comparison I’ve heard of Eva Rose being the Stevie Nicks of doom metal.

Next, Un unleashed their fury to a packed room and then Usnea had the task of following all of that glorious talent and riffage. We were enveloped by this sense that the crowd was hanging upon our every note. Certainly, we admired their stamina in enduring so many great bands and still maintaining attention for us.

That show was one of the highlights of the entire tour, due not only to the reception and turnout, but also because of the buddy blitz it was. Just a never-ending barrage of all too brief reunions with so many of our Bay Area homies, our takeaway being that we should not wait so long to play the Bay again. On our own without a trailer, it’s only a ten-hour jaunt down there. After the show, we partied into the night with our old friends Jimmy and Clint, who graciously put us up after both of the tour’s Bay Area shows. Many tecates, lots of weed, and some vegan tacos were consumed.

Los Angeles

The next day, we were up early for another sizeable drive to Los Angeles. The vast agricultural expanse of California is a mind-wearying thing. After making it through the Grapevine, we arrived at The Hi Hat in Highland Park to load in and reunite with our friends Kevin and Eric of Pendulous. Un’s drummer, Alex, hails from Los Angeles and was glad to reconnect with his brother there. This was also the point in the tour where the boys in Un really launched The Taco Challenge that they had planned for the tour. Throughout the tour, the Un boys resoundingly trounced us, with only our guitarist Johnny rising to the challenge. Alex and his bandmates, Un’s bassist Clayton and guitarist David, were fierce foes! Their singer/guitarist Monte was less invested, much like Zeke, Joel, and myself on the Usnea team. To be fair, I tried to get in on the count when possible, but being that I’m a vegan the availability of vegan tacos was a factor and, truthfully, I am a proponent of the mighty burrito. The “church of the burrito” is that entire stretch of California, from San Diego all the way up to San Francisco’s Mission District, and thus I was more likely to break ranks and eat one of those glorious things, instead.

Back to the show in L.A., Pendulous opened the night with their expertly crafted doomgaze. Vocalist Eric Rezső Mendoza has a commanding presence throughout their performance and his voice is exceptionally trained and diverse in range. Following were Skyeater, ramping up the pace with their filthy black metal assault. Pure anger and fury reflected in the sinew of each mangled chord. Both of our bands were met with a warm welcome for a Sunday night in North L.A. and there were quite a few folks filming the night, something I have seen frequently at underground metal shows here.

Alex decided to part ways with the tour and kick it with his family in Los Angeles for a few days, since the next day was a day off in San Diego. Mondays are pretty hard to book anywhere, let alone for a funeral/death-doom tour in Southern California. We all headed back to Kevin’s house, where he shared his gracious hospitality and friendship with us. In the morning after yet another night of hard partying excess, Kevin made us all a huge batch of delicious vegan breakfast tacos, which we washed down with the remaining warm tecates from the night before.

At this point in the tour, though just ramping up, we were already pretty well haggard – especially the Usneas. Something about those long drives and the constant consumption of cheap beer and tequila mixed with poor sleep and being in your '30s really takes its toll. We took our time getting to San Diego and once there headed right to Ocean Beach, since our pal Blaine was busy until later. It was just the reset we needed and all of us, aside from Monte, greatly enjoyed the sun and surf of that mild climate. Not to single the buddy out, but Monte is a true Cascadian metalhead and as, thus, despises direct sunlight. He was able to find some shade, though, and he seemed to have a good time in spite of his disapproval of the setting.

Blaine told us to meet them at Ranchos in North Park, the first of three meals we would partake in there (it’s that good). After some micheladas, tacos, and burritos there, we set out for this junkyard DIY punk show, where Blaine’s band Therapy was playing. We re-upped on Tecates and Hornitos and partied in the van, taking turns wading into the sea of studs and leather to watch some of the punk bands on our night off in that junkyard.

It is always refreshing and re-invigorating seeing younger folks keeping the spirit and flame of DIY culture burning bright. The show was surreal to partake in after our previous three nights playing bars and clubs. Of course, the passion and excitement that youth holds in great supply must also be tempered with the wisdom of older “veteran” punks. Such was the case with this show as the police were called by the surrounding nonplussed neighbors several times, finally bringing the event to a halt before Therapy or the touring band, Olympia-based D-beat crushers Physique, could play. We conferred with Blaine and agreed that Physique should hop on our show the next day to make up for the bust. Luckily, they had the day off and were able to do just that.

Another night of partying, oh yes. The West Coast will not let us act our age and retire into sleep early – though to be fair, we were equally culpable in our excitement to reunite and break bread with friends old and new. Monte and Joel broke out their Magic decks and battled in their nerdy ways while everyone else partied around them. A favorite tour game Joel long ago introduced to the Usnea regiment, Carcassonne, was deployed and carried us into the late hours until our drunken, clumsy noisiness disturbed one of Blaine’s housemates and we decided it best to retire for the night. I had van duty this night, each night someone had it – often two of us, in fact – due to the need for sleeping space for eight and the desire to secure the van and equipment. It was pleasant enough sleeping in the van with the mild spring air flowing in the windows, though I did have to wake up at 6 A.M. to move the van for street sweeping. Parking a van with a trailer is no easy task and it took a long time to find another spot.

San Diego

Usnea love the beach, we aren’t all doom and gloom despite our music. If anything, our music is a cathartic release of that negativity, sadness, and anger so that we can try to be somewhat functioning and balanced individuals. Living in the perpetual grey and rainy climes of Portland, we try to go to the beach or even just be outside in nature whenever possible. So it was no surprise to find us going to the beach once again. This time we bribed Monty with margaritas on a rooftop balcony, though he still took respite in the van afterwards while we goofed off on the beach and in the waves. Clayton and David enjoyed bodysurfing with us to provide a counterbalance to his dissent. Johnny had cut out to go skateboarding at some street spots with Blaine and his brother Sean, so we reconnected at Ranchos again and then, full of the best Mexican food, we headed to Space for our show, where Alex rejoined the tour thanks to a ride from L.A. with his brother.

Physique, making up for not being able to play the night before, were vicious in their onslaught. Bassist Bee Boo switching between two EQ pedals to drive their tone in varying ways, grating the ears in raw perfection with a blistering D-beat provided by their drummer and furious vocals over ear-piercing chainsaw riffs from the guitar. They are truly a band to keep an ear on (for fans of Discharge and Lebenden Toten) and feature former members of G.L.O.S.S., Hirs, and Acracy.

After them, Un and Usnea played for the crowd, bringing the tempo and energy to a different place. It always seems like metal, particularly the low 'n’ slow blend of metal, doesn’t have as resolute a following in San Diego, possibly due to their proclivity for sunshine and mild weather. Either way, the crowd were welcoming and then Sixes, who had encountered issues with a flat tire, made it in time to close the night out with a crushing set of evil sludge.

The venue quickly switched over from a punk/metal show to karaoke and, being the nerds that we are, we partook. Our bassist/vocalist Joel runs two weekly karaoke nights in Portland called Satanaroke that Zeke and I both frequent and, as such, we were happy to participate in San Diego. The Physique folks also sang their hearts out, along with Blaine and Sean, setting off another rowdy evening of debauchery at Blaine’s house thereafter, but not before stopping for late night burritos and tacos at an excellent 24 hour taqueria called Saguaro.

Tijuana

Thursday morning, we decided it best to relax and enjoy some quiet time at Blaine’s house while we could. Another lunch all-together at Ranchos with Blaine and then we had to load into our van for the show that night in Tijuana. The drive was short, but the Mexican border control pulled us aside and asked that we empty the trailer for inspection. We did as they asked and they casually checked out our contents and cleared us to enter. We reloaded and headed to Club Paradise on Avenida Revolucion, only ten minutes from the border.

An aside, growing up in Phoenix, I went to Tijuana on several occasions almost 20 years ago to see punk shows (Cattle Decapitation and the Locust!) and it was totally trippy to see that once bustling strip now. The true tolls of Cartel violence, the exponential murder rate, and the hardening of the border since 9/11 and dipshit Trump’s racist assault on Latino immigrants have all taken their toll. It probably also didn’t help that it was the week of Easter in a largely Catholic country, but the streets were pretty empty.

Our friend Edgar was promoting the show and he helped us load in, set up, and find parking. We all walked around before the show finding some street tacos and exchanging for pesos to buy drinks for the night and have change for merch, then returned to the venue. TJ locals Iwokk went on first with their powerful sludge dirge reminiscent of Asbestosdeath. Following them, Dhatüra unleashed their post-rock influenced doomgaze on a mesmerized crowd. Usnea went third followed by Un, who brought the room into their solemn meditative trance. The crowd was rad and thanked us for coming down, buying us beers and smoking us out. I saw someone in an Usnea shirt that we don’t make anymore and inquired where they got it. They told me that they had been blown away by us at Psycho in Las Vegas, which was truly humbling.

We packed up and headed back to San Diego to crash one more night at Blaine’s. The border crossing was surprisingly smooth and effortless, possibly due to the time of night? A bunch of longhairs and beardos with a trailer in metal shirts usually elicits more reproach from border guards, though we were happy to take their leniency and get our weary heads to rest.

San Francisco

Another long drive ahead to San Francisco, we rose early after our beautiful four days in Southern California and three days under Blaine’s hospitality. Again the dreary drive along I-5 between L.A. and the Bay Area among the slaughterhouses, the stench of masses of cattle, and the embattled hillsides tasked with supporting so many through agriculture. We did encounter some gnarly traffic, making us a little behind schedule, but Clayton is a powerhouse having driven most of the tour perfectly, so this stretch worked out fine. We arrived in San Francisco at dusk and had to hastily double-park the van on Mission in front of El Rio to unload.

No trip to the Mission would be complete without the obligatory burrito, so we hit up Taqueria Cancun. As always, it was goddamned delicious, though their prices have been inflated by the struggle to hang on in such an expensive and unsustainable economic environment. I am happy that there are still some bastions of Latino culture hanging on in the Mission.

Nicole did a fantastic job booking this show and the openers were perfect. First were Atone playing what I believe was their debut show and featuring our good friend Jimmy from Swamp Witch and Ryan from Body Void. They commanded a solemn space and dragged everyone down into the darkness with them. Following were a two-piece black metal maelstrom called Malefic Levitation, who submerged us all into the abyss of their pummeling menace. Un delivered a majestic set and Usnea followed, tensely closing the show out just in time for the curfew. It was another great night of reuniting with our friends and the hometown heroes of Bay Area underground metal. I also greatly appreciated the space, El Rio, as it is a welcoming and unpretentious respite from the encroaching mediocrity of the tech-yuppie gentrification that has long ruined San Francisco’s diverse creative queer and freak-positive beauty. It got me to thinking about how much I love the intersection of metal and queerness and how I would really love to see more queer metal bands and more metal in explicitly queer spaces.

Another night of partying at Jimmy and Clint’s house in Oakland ensued. The next morning, the hangover of the tour ending soon came into focus. We went to lunch with Jimmy and Clint at a rad space called Hella Vegan Eats and then made our way to Sacramento for the second to last show of tour.

Sacramento

Chris Lemos is an incredible human being. He has been working his ass off for a very long time to bring amazing bands to Sacramento and to foster the kind of creative spaces and artistic community that he believes should thrive in Sacramento. His travail seems to have paid off, from my perspective. Both of the Sacramento shows Usnea have played have been incredible, though another considerable factor has to be that his band CHRCH have also graced both bills and their local congregation are a faithful bunch of true believers. This show was easily another highlight akin to the Oakland show a week prior.

More tacos were had at Fiesta Cantina down the street from the Blue Lamp. Opening the show were Occlith, another new band in the fertile ground of the Bay Area and Sacramento undergrounds, the singer of which hails from both Atone and Swamp Witch whom we had played with earlier in the tour. They were bleak and depressive right out of the gate, gnashing their dark riffage out into the cosmos. The singer performed with a kind of chainmail mesh veil adding to the weight of their set, along with the sigils they had hung behind them. Un brought out their finest might and grace and really wowed the entire room bringing that sense of sorrow within me for knowing that the adventure we had undertaken with them was quickly running its course. Usnea took the stage and played our hearts out as best we could, followed by a powerhouse of a finale from CHRCH. As I said of their Oakland show, this band has worked hard and perfected their craft and are completely deserving of the hype and rise in appreciation they are experiencing. Be sure to check out their new album on Neurot Recordings.

Chris took us back to his house where we introduced him to the game Snake Oil, which he was an instant convert to. We all laughed into the late hours until we had drank all of the beer and needed to sleep.

In the morning, Chris took us for (you guessed it) more tacos at Maya’s. I am very food-driven. It is a love and a passion of mine, as you can see by my recounting of the tour, probably to some degree due to being vegan these past two decades, but also because meals are sometimes the part of the day I most look forward to. I know I am not alone in this. The monotony of working our jobs, driving in a van, or whatever task you have before you makes it sometimes necessary to really relish the best parts of life. I think everyone, save for Joel, got tacos (being sick of the taco challenge, he went somewhere else and found Bahn Mi) and my papas tacos dorados were easily the best tacos I had of the whole tour. We said our goodbyes after unloading our gear from the venue (perks of Chris running the place and letting us keep it in there overnight) and headed through the pretty valley backroads along the Sacramento River towards our final show.

Chico

Chico is a special town for Usnea. Our drummer Zeke went to high school and college there. In his time there, he collaborated with the close-knit punk scene there and together they crafted a really fantastic local scene. His old bands The Makai and Amarok toured all of the US and even Europe and gave the town more recognition and their tireless promotion of countless touring punk and metal bands, accompanied by European-style hospitality and lodging, lives on today in the Chico Area Punks. Zeke moved up to Portland shortly before we formed Usnea together, but when we can, we try to book Chico on the way to the bigger cities on the West Coast and see all of the old buddies. Upon arriving, Zeke’s old friend Scribble had us over to his house for two huge pans of delicious homemade vegan lasagna before the show.

We headed to the small downtown area to the Naked Lounge, a coffeehouse in close proximity to the university Zeke attended. It was a great reunion with tons of buddies and then the first band, Shadow Limb played an excellent set of their signature prog-post metal. Un were up next and it was bittersweet seeing them one last time and having those songs gnawing at our ears, as the phantom of those sounds would days later. We played our set and, aside from getting shocked by the microphones/PA system (ah DIY shows!) as Un had, it was a great time.

The whole crew packed up the trailer one last time and we all headed to Duffy’s, a dive bar that usually attracts all of the right characters in that small college town. We partied there for a while and then went back to Scribble’s place where he made us soyrizo street tacos late into the night, trying to influence the taco challenge results, propelled by his own generosity and skill as a vegan cook. At some point, we all had enough partying and crashed out. The next day we’d be driving for the duration back up through the Cascade Range, away from sunshine and California’s mild spring temperatures, for our own rain-soaked paradise. Though I do like the sunshine and t-shirt weather, I truly love the misty, fog-covered mountains carpeted in ferns, Doug firs, cedars, and excessive rain – it is my home.

Coda

The tour was a smashing success, just short enough for all of us to wish it would have continued going, but not so long that any of us lost our patience with one another. Our two bands had excellent personal chemistry, and musically I feel that our back-to-back performances filled the right spaces that the other complimented. Touring is a funny experience. We are at once aware of how lucky we are to be able to take our art and expression on the road and share it with strangers who are enthusiastic for it, but also know how many folks on the outside of such a life look at it as though it were a vacation, when in reality it is a very taxing experience.

Touring requires love, dedication, a lot of tenacity, and work ethic. In my youth, every tour was this epic adventure that I always strove for with my whole being. I would be a liar if I said that I feel that same euphoric way about touring these days, but I do still greatly love playing music with my best friends, getting to share it with like-minded folks, traveling and experiencing this existence through that outlet, and the folks who make it all worth it. The friends who support us with their love and hospitality, the fans who come out and pay admission and stay through five bands and buy merch and support the bars with drink sales – all of it – you are all crucial to keeping the spirit of underground DIY art and music culture alive. And long may it live.

Cheers,

Justin // Usnea

Editor’s Note:

When I heard the lads of Kurokuma were about to venture into Japan for the first time, playing a slate of dates with the mighty Conan, I asked if they’d be willing document their experiences, you know for shits and giggles. Ok, that’s not entirely true. I was hoping we could all do a little bit of vicarious living through them.

Without further deliberation, here is the play-by-play of Jacob Mazlum, Joe Allen, and George Ionita’s visit to the Land of the Rising Sun. In the daily journals that follow, Jacob’s reflections are in blue, Joe’s are in green. Special thanks to James Clayton-Daniels and Bryan Phippen for the additional photos they provided for this piece. We hope you enjoy the journey!

Days I & II: Monday/Tuesday, March 19th/20th

Sleep deprivation, long flights and aeroplane food. This was a long journey, consisting of a coach trip, two flights, angry Chinese security officials and two lost pieces of baggage.

We flew from Heathrow to Beijing airport and then on to Kansai Airport near Osaka. The whole thing took close to 30 hours and upon arriving in Japan we were told the airliners had kindly misplaced our guitars and they would be coming two days later, presumably from an impromptu holiday to Sumatra or somewhere.

I made it through customs unscathed with my cymbals, cowbell and sticks – for once a drummer could travel light. We then headed to the Japan Rail office to pick up our passes, which guaranteed us unlimited rail travel for the next two weeks.

We all made our way to our separate accommodations at midnight. It was raining and my phone battery died just before I reached where I was staying. Luckily, a guy I asked on the street invited me in to his place to charge my phone up. He gave me a coconut water drink and I gave him a Kurokuma cassette. I soon ended up at Kazuo’s place, the self-styled Japanese Bruce Lee – he had the haircut, the nunchucks and the yellow suit. He didn’t have much floor space or a shower, but the futon was comfy and I was glad to be back in Japan for the first time in five years.

Day III: Wednesday, March 21st

After passing the owl cafe next to my hostel and considering stealing one of the residents, we all met up and hit the sento, a kind of Japanese spa.

These places are pretty great but require those who use them to enter completely naked. So we all ended up seeing more of each other than any of us really intended when we first picked up our instruments together.

After the initial amusement had passed of being in a steamy room full of naked Japanese dudes, it became more relaxing. Featuring fun attractions like a pool with electricity running through it and a radon (read: radioactive) sauna, it was an oddly tranquil experience. As all but one of us had tattoos, we had to find a yakuza-friendly establishment and were happy to see an old Japanese guy covered in the customary full-body irezumi tattoos that identify their members.

We then got exploring and visited the first headshop ever to open in Japan: Taimado. It had a west coast G-Funk theme and was run by a guy who was dressed head to toe like Ice Cube in the early ‘90s. We’re talking matching blue shirt and bottoms, baseball cap and the meanest Jheri curls you ever saw on a guy outside LA. We had a chat and he uploaded a picture he took of us to the shop’s Instagram.

The evening was spent singing KISS songs in a karaoke room. The Japanese people we were hanging out with were impressed by George’s aggressive vocal technique on the mic.

Day IV: Thursday, March 22nd

A day for Kobe. George and I needed to wait in for our guitars. That necessitated a 6am start and a hefty morning walk to get to the address where mine would arrive. But in true Japanese style, they arrived with no problems and I got the train to Kobe where I went to the local zoo.

After that, we paid a visit to an old friend of Joe’s who happened to be the chef at his own TripAdvisor-topping restaurant. It was no exaggeration to say this was the best meal of my life, personally, and the finesse with which every aspect of the food was treated was mind-blowing. We even managed to get some Kobe beef, prepared and seasoned to perfection to create the kind of food that makes you rethink what a culinary experience can be. Kokoroya in Kobe – try it.

Following this was a visit to more of Joe’s old friends, this time a family who had invited us for even more food at their place. As we sat there playing doom metal albums for the family whilst eating home-cooked okonomiyaki, the evening took on a slightly bizarre aspect. Naturally, this was helped by how utterly friendly and hilarious the family were.

Having studied at Kobe University for one year, Kobe will always be a special place for me. In the morning I visited the Osamu Tezuka/Astro Boy museum nearby, then met up with the lads for a meal at Kokoroya, a restaurant I used to hit up back in the day.

The chef is a friend of mine and always treats me when I’m in town, but for some reason this time he pulled out all the stops and gave us a lesson in just how good a restaurant experience can be. It was like receiving blow after blow from a perfect combo in Street Fighter. Eating as a vegan in Japan can be tough, but he provided a multi-course, tailor-made menu for me and I felt moved by food in a way I don’t think I ever have been before.

Day V: Friday, March 23rd

Last day in Osaka and what better way to spend it than heading to the local castle. Osaka-jo is located within the city in a beautifully kept compound that serves as a functioning tourist magnet. The cherry blossoms had just begun their flowering and people waited in line to be photographed with them.

The interior of the castle was somewhat less impressive, being entirely remodelled to resemble a narrow eight-story museum, rather than an artifact of antiquity. There was some very evocative traditional artwork, however, with an entertainingly cavalier attitude to depictions of feudal-era violence.

Later, we got the chance to visit our Osaka date venue, a DIY-looking hole in the wall that went one floor down some steps to the gig room and another flight down to a simple and fun bar. The result was a venue that took all the honesty and integrity of punk, while leaving behind the two-digit IQ tropes so common to the scene. We left excited to turn the amps up at this very place in a week’s time.

Day VI: Saturday, March 24th

The time had come to journey to the frigid climbs of the north and we boarded a shinkansen (bullet train) to Aomori on a two-part, eight hour journey, covering 1,000 kilometers.

Upon arriving, we were met by a Japanese woman named Masako, a friend of Joe’s who is basically a lifeline for the young foreign workers in the city. She went out of her way for us and we ended up getting a meal with 90 minutes of unlimited alcoholic drinks in which we learned the true meaning of the term “watered down”!

The bullet train is a sublime experience. It makes riding a standard train feel clumsy and awkward. The legroom, speed and quiet hum make it perfect for sleeping, reading a book or just gazing out the window. It’s luxurious and sums up why Japan is such a great country to travel in. With our rail passes, we had unlimited rides on this expensive service.

In the evening, we arrived in Aomori, the most snowy city in the world and another place where I once spent a year living. It’s famous for apples (its number one export) and Nebuta, a truly amazing festival of lantern floats that get paraded through the city along with festival bands, featuring taiko drums and flutes. I got to experience it twice previously and Aomori’s identity is centred around this week-long event. In some ways, the music of Nebuta was the inspiration to start this band.

Aomori Prefecture is also the home to kurokuma no taki a.k.a. Kurokuma Falls. I’d been lucky enough to visit this place back in the day and, yes, this is where we took our name from. Aomori has a lot to answer for.

Day VII: Sunday, March 25th

Our last foray into the world of Japanese bathhouses thoroughly convinced us of the utility of getting naked and vigorously scrubbing ourselves in front of one another. Naturally, it didn’t take long before we were back at the onsen, this time at a classy one located in the snowy peaks surrounding Aomori.

Unlike our last trip, this was a shared baths, which meant we were bathing naked with both men and women. Better yet, this onsen was supplied by a nearby hot spring with the local water source being naturally rich in sulphur. This was an old school place, traditional in its construction, with the result being a murky, wood-lined room complete with foul sulphur odour and all the awkwardness that comes from sticking a bunch of naked men, women, and children in a room together and pretending there’s nothing weird about it.

While the other guys enjoyed the experience just fine, the five metres of snow that had accumulated in the winter months was of far more interest to me. The extreme weather and Japanese determination to keep their infrastructure functional led to the narrow winding road being shadowed by metres-high walls of ice on either side, looming benignly over every passing vehicle.

We took our crew for some ramen at a relaxed little place, then drinks at the kind of cool ramshackle bar you never find in the UK. There was an acoustic guitar and a pair of replica handguns floating around at the latter, just to remind us that we were a long way from Sheffield.

Day VIII: Monday, March 26th

At lunch we grabbed some noodles and tenpura, then I spent much of the day hitting up my former coworkers at the city hall, and realising that not much in Aomori changes at all. It’s a big city, but feels like the place that time forgot with plenty of retro/vintage shops dotted about the place and a definite rock n roll vibe when it comes to music and aesthetic. We made sure to sample some of the local apples, which basically put all other apples to shame in size and taste.

In the evening, we began talking with a drunk Masako about traditional dress, upon which she produced two different outfits for Joe and I, George having previously purchased his in the city. Before we knew it, we were decked in brightly-hued garb that looked a mixture of ridiculous and hilarious on our gaijin frames. The idea was to wear these traditional garments for our last show in Tokyo for a striking send off. At the time of writing this, it was still days away and the word “questionable” stayed firmly lodged in my head until I stepped on stage.

Day IX: Tuesday, March 27th

The day began with Joe and I hitting what must have been the cheapest gym in the developed world at Aomori Stadium. Forgoing the shower due to time constraints, we next picked George up and headed for the great wilderness.

It turns out that the Japanese close the great wilderness at 4:30pm and so it was up to us to make our own fun by climbing a nearby snow-covered peak. Decked in tracksuits and Air Max sneakers, we were hardly prepared for the metre-deep snow and untamed flora, but that wasn’t stopping us.

As the incline became more severe, we ended up ascending on all fours, grasping onto any firm branches and digging our feet into the snow to stop gravity pulling us back to where we started. The summit could almost be said to be worth the effort, but our tight schedule and the dying sunlight meant we soon had to begin our descent.

We finished the evening with some ridiculous purikura photo booth action, creating some images that will haunt us for years, followed by another visited to another public baths to clean up our thoroughly sweaty bodies. The kind obachan who ran the place gifted us with more apples, which seem to be some kind of currency in Aomori.

We’d all wanted to see Kurokuma no taki, but the road there was still closed due to snow, making it impossible to visit. We thoroughly respected nature’s decision and felt the next best thing was to borrow a car and make our own fun in nature. We drove towards the beach, stopping off at a “recycle shop” to buy some CDs for the trip. We then discovered that the CD player was broke, meaning we had to settle for awful/entertaining Japanese radio.

We felt the call of Yogoshiyama mountain as we passed it and, despite the advice of the staff at the foot of the resort, decided we had to reach the peak. It was a genuine trek through the tundra, grabbing onto branches to keep from sinking into the 3-foot snow, so when we reached the top it was pretty rewarding. Then it was back down to Aomori City to catch one of my all-time favourite restaurants that opens for only two and a half hours a day. Isojuu, with interior untouched for decades, serves the best tenpura I’ve ever eaten and, once again, in Aomori nothing had changed – a very satisfying meal was had.

Day X: Wednesday, March 28th

We said goodbye to Aomori in the morning to begin our marathon journey from the north to Nagoya on the bullet train. A late night pre-gig practice in preparation for the next day’s first tour date was a thing of horror. Mistakenly taking a taxi a kilometer away from the practise space, we lugged our gear on tired feet to arrive late to the studio and cram in a few songs. It was when we were setting up here that we realised half the pedals on our pedalboards weren’t working due to voltage differences. We promised to sort out the power issue the next morning and crept to bed in the early hours.

Our host in Nagoya was Akihito, who had the biggest TV you’ve ever seen and a whole apartment building, bought with the profits made from owning a successful ramen franchise. He proudly told us – in front of his wife – that he hosted foreign guests in his complex mainly for fun and to meet cute girls. Our offering that night would have to be George.

Day XI: Thursday, March 29th

George and I started the day early, getting to an area of Nagoya that seemed pretty big on electronics and after an hour or so we’d found our holy grail: a converter that changed our British 240v-fed gear to 100v. We then made our way to the venue, Club Zion, saying hello around 2pm to our Japanese benefactors and Conan, who had landed the night before.

This was an early arrival time for us, but it was worth it for the soundcheck, where we discovered that our pedalboards were suddenly lighting up like a pair of weird and beautiful Christmas trees. The relief felt when everything was seen to be working was beyond words and we geared up for a good time.

The first band was called Amber Vial and set the tone for a great night to come. The five-piece had a whole wall of amps and two percussionists stood on either side of the stage with gongs and taiko drums. They also had some of the most creative merch designs I’d ever seen, thanks to band member, Miffy, who works in a t-shirt shop and was also the promoter that evening. Joe was gifted a giraffe print hoody of theirs which was comically outside his usual colour scheme.

Following them were Granule, who’d graciously booked the three dates in Japan for this tour. They didn’t disappoint, boldly tearing a hole into the legions of lesser bands with a slow, brutal ferocity.

We followed up Granule’s sludgy hell with our own brand of the same. This was our first show in Japan and our second ever overseas and we delivered a set that felt bold enough to impress, but with a degree of caution to gauge our new audience. It seemed to go well and the audience was visibly enjoying it. Not bad at all for a Thursday night in a city a step down from the bigger Japanese metropolises.

Conan finished the evening in exactly the way you would both want and expect. The trio’s ball-busting heaviness was simple in concept and perfect in execution, wielding their brute strength with all the heft of a sledgehammer and the precision of a scalpel. The audience seemed enraptured, and after having not seen Conan myself for a couple of years, so was I.

The night ended in a Chinese restaurant before sleeping in a shared hotel room that looked like it was decorated in the '70s and last cleaned in the '80s. Despite this, it was very Japanese in style and the mysteriously stained futons provided a welcome bit of roughness to the spotless cleanliness one gets accustomed to here.

Finally, the day of our first show was here. Akihito dropped us off at the venue and we all sound-checked before heading out for food and drinks with Granule and Conan. It didn’t take long before we were all getting along and George was teaching everyone his favourite Japanese word, which doesn’t want repeating on this fine website.

The show itself was dope and the audience seemed to agree, judging by merch sales. Kurokuma and Conan had our own limited Japan tour t-shirts, while Granule had printed up a white-label split between our three bands, which ended up selling out by the end of the tour.

We got a lift to a nearby Chinese restaurant from the vocalist in Eternal Elysium, a long-standing band in the Nagoya scene. After that, the ghetto accommodation really pushed the boundaries of Japan’s attention to cleanliness – a fitting end to our first day of shows.

Day XII: Friday, March 30th

Stirring in our Project Zero-esque bedroom, we left Nagoya early to get to Osaka for the night’s show. We met a camera crew to document our day at Osaka station and resumed exploring the area.

After checking in at our capsule hotel and getting some footage we headed for Hokage, our venue for the night. We sound checked and packed down, with Granule being first on the bill. Prior to their set it emerged that a certain member of a certain popular doom band forgot to pack enough underwear for their time overseas. Helpful as ever, I offered to take them to the nearest Uniqlo, which basically meant I missed Granule’s set to help another man acquire underwear.

Joe insisted I missed something special and I vowed to catch their full set the next day. Luckily the following band, Birushanah, lifted my disappointment with one of the most impressive sets I have ever seen. The band are made up of drums, guitar and vocals, plus a homemade percussion kit composed of scrap metal. The guitar lines, rhythms, compositional techniques and overall sound reminded me of Zeni Geva and Magma, an extreme yet accessible slice of mildly-proggy goodness.

I couldn’t express my awe enough in simple English, so just stood there meekly doing some strange bowing thing to them after. I think they got the message and the drummer came up after and kindly gave us each a CD of various projects he was involved in.

We were up next and the room was crammed. We decided on a slower and more atmospheric set which, though hard to gauge the audience reaction to it, seemed to go down well. The small room, large audience, DIY vibe and the fact we were in Osaka seemed to give the show a slightly surreal feel. We may have still been finding our feet a little, but this performance felt special.

Conan concluded the show by filling that small room with far too many low frequencies and thick fuzz for any healthy ears to handle – and judging from the mosh pits the audience really appreciated it.

We finished the night off by heading to a nabe joint with two of the guys from Birushanah – the percussionist for this band was actually the owner of Hokage. At the nabe place, we had a Friday night meal of tasty simmered vegetables in broth before the hours began to catch up with us, so we retreated to the capsule hotel for a few hours of sleep before our early start.

Osaka is Japan’s party city and we were back in Shinsaibashi being followed by a camera crew. We took this opportunity to revel in the cherry blossoms and then hit up Taimado head shop again, chatting with the owner for a while. Jake bought a t-shirt that felt as if it was specifically made for him (see the above photo).

The organic-feeling Hokage is split across three claustrophobic floors and is one of the dopest venues we’ve ever played. We were quickly getting used to these soundchecks with very professional sound guys, where everything sounded amazing, then it was a literal thirty-second walk 'round the corner back to the capsule hotel and a soak in the Japanese baths, before heading back out to play once more. Jon from Conan was eating takoyaki on the street outside the venue. Everything felt so easy and relaxed.

We’d decided to go for a super slow set and see what happened and it was pretty interesting seeing the crowd reaction. Some of the members of Granule confirmed that Japanese audiences aren’t quite used to such slow extremity in metal, but looking out while playing I could see the stirrings of something as the crowd tried to adjust to something a little unknown to them.

We learned that someone had come all the way down from Aomori to see us, and we also hung out with a fan wearing an OHHMS t-shirt which she’d bought at Desertfest in London. Playing Osaka was something I’d wanted to do for a long time, and chilling with the guys from the amazing Birushanah after was a blast – true communion through music.

Day XIII: Saturday, March 31st

We had to wake up at 8am to get an early bullet train to Tokyo for our final show. The journey was three hours and we were due to soundcheck around 1pm but we made it. We stepped out of the subway into the most crowded street I’ve ever seen in my life. Pushing through we found our subterranean venue and got started. The Doom Doc was having a pre-gig screening and the room was pretty much packed out, even at its 3:30pm start.

Watching Sheffield on screen from one of the greatest metropolises in human history was a bit jarring, and frankly the streets of Tokyo made our home city look a bit grim.

Next up were the bands, and Guevnna were on first – it was great seeing our friend Ryo (who helped organise the tour) on stage. Stoner doom with a twist, Guevnna brought some welcome sludgy ugliness to their sound with Ryo’s vocals really elevating things to the next level. Unfortunately, missing the next two bands due to merch desk duties, we headed backstage to prepare for our set, donning the various items of traditional Japanese clothing we had acquired in our time at Aomori.

The pictures of the show speak for themselves. We played the best set of our tour to a sold out venue (the first time it had sold out in over ten years) with all the vigour of underground musicians from Sheffield who were playing in fucking Tokyo on a Saturday night.

Suffice to say, we ended the tour with a bang. Afterward, we got changed and chilled out whilst the DJ got a dance floor going in the merch area with some great bumping house tracks. Granule were up next and as we fought our way into the packed out room, it became apparent that something special was going to happen.

Live shows rarely entertain me anymore and impress me even less, but the performance put on by Granule on this night went above and beyond the inspirational. Starting with a few minutes of darkly ambient, arpeggiated guitar, the band fearlessly tested the audience’s patience simply to lay the groundwork for what was to come. The first proper song kicked into a masterclass of cavernous sludge that felt like it was composed of lead, but it was the following track that elevated the set to the divine.

Based around a series of rhythms and layers, the second song was less the product of a metal band and more the result of five great musicians exploring the fringes of what their setup could do. Joe labelled it a krautrock moment, but for me the intertwining layers and disregard for melody struck me as closer to techno.

I stood there mouth agape and unable to tear myself away for the full duration of the song and then…it ended. The lights came up and I wondered why they stopped. It turned out their 35-minute set was composed of those two gargantuan tracks, which somehow bent what seemed like ten minutes into three times as much.

Effusion over, we settled behind the bass cabs to witness Conan’s final set of the tour. It was true that the sound out front was far better, but being positioned so close to the band and the hefty backline had an intimacy that couldn’t be matched. The perfect end to our final gig in Japan.

When you’re in the midst of touring, each day flies by as a carnival of faces, lights and sound. Sleep deprivation and constant travel forces you to live in the moment as it’s the only thing you can concentrate on. My literary companion on this tour was a Murakami book, which further reinforced my focus on the minutiae of life in a very welcome way.

Stepping off the bullet train and into the streets of Shinjuku, we were certainly in Tokyo. Streams of high school friends weaved in and out of arcades and shops as we searched once again for a venue we’d never been to before in a very crowded city. The smells from countless Korean restaurants and the city’s sewage seemed to guide us and centre on the entrance to Earthdom. We took the steps down into the cool, black live room.

The Granule guys were setting up for the Japanese premiere of The Doom Doc and slowly a smile started to creep across my face as I saw this all-day event shaping up before my eyes. There was news that 200 tickets had been sold on presale and gradually people started to file in after our sound check.

The bar soon became packed, as we introduced the Tokyo audience to how we do things in Sheffield, via The Doom Doc. Then the bands began and we spent the day hanging out in back corridors selling merch, signing sheets of paper and also managing to meet up with our bro, Tich. This was the guy who recorded our demo and EP Advorsus and he was by pure chance in Tokyo on the same day as us to play a night in Shibuya.

Before we knew it, it was time to take the stage in Japanese dress to the now sold-out venue. We played a high energy set and finished sweaty and extremely fulfilled. We enjoyed every single second.

Next, Granule absolutely slayed and then Conan left a crater in Shinjuku out of which a true consciousness of doom metal is sure to emerge in Japan.

Words don’t do these kind of things justice, so let’s just say no one on this tour wanted to stop after three days. But still, our work was done and we were all satisfied.

Conan had to jet off with Granule and that left us to walk over to Shibuya see Tich perform. Over this midnight stroll, we were treated to Tokyo’s best cherry blossom and skyscrapers, and it ended with a mad night in the club. Leaving at around 4am, we found that you should definitely pre-book a room if you want to stay in a Shibuya hotel and by 5am we had to settle on the world’s smallest karaoke room for a harsh night’s sleep next to a room with a guy practising trumpet…no singing this time.

Day XIV: Sunday, April 1st

Next morning, we definitely needed to find a venue for our last communal bathing experience, ending up in a classy little place in Aoyama and having to cover our ghastly tattoos. After that, we were feeling refreshed and met up with Granule one last time to grab our gear and say goodbye. I’m sure it won’t be too long before we see them again – a bunch of real guys and true musicians who need to come and play the UK.

We rode the bullet train one last time to a sleepy town called Sennan near Kansai Airport. It was sinking in that our trip was nearly over and after scouring this little place for somewhere to eat and enjoy a last kanpai, we finally found a welcoming izakaya where we ordered plenty of skewered vegetables and drinks and chatted with locals.

We collapsed into our final lodgings for the trip, a stunning traditional Japanese house complete with shouji sliding doors, tatami mats, futons and carved ornamentation in the walls.

There’s no place like Japan.

To finish, whilst I’m no stranger to travel, the fact was that this tour marked only the second time Kurokuma had played overseas. Would travelling the country with gear be a problem? Would the gear even work properly in these distant lands? And how would our strange assault on the ears be received by these new audiences?

The truth is there are few places as simultaneously alien and welcoming as Japan. Stereotypes innocently come to life at every turn in bursts of bright light and small gestures, as the country carefully accommodates Western blunders through one of the most refined social systems in the world.

Your foreign features and the extra weight on your frame do not go unnoticed and your status as an outsider in one of the most homogenous societies in the developed world is palpable.

Yet despite this, we also found the people here to be generous and hospitable to a ridiculous degree. From the nearly-free Michelin-starred meal, to being invited to stay in another’s home, to the fan who brought the members of Kurokuma and Conan each a souvenir bag full of little goods, the kindness of the Japanese people made me feel like a miserly narcissist in comparison.

It’s true that a degree of experience is helpful when navigating the country, but few places are as wondrous as Japan. I’d like to end by giving my sincere thanks to Ryo and Hikari for their invaluable assistance, the great guys in all the bands we played with, and everyone who offered us a helpful hand while we were there. Meeting people through music is really what makes a trip like this.

Thanks, Japan. We’ll be back.