ALBUM REVIEW: Bodies on Everest / Lump Hammer -Whelmed

If ever two bands were put together in order to aurally depict the turgid, depressing slog that is Life In Northern England Under An Elitist Bunch Of Fascists, it’s Liverpool’s Bodies on Everest and their Newcastle-based touring chums Lump Hammer. As joint release Whelmed (Inverted Grim-Mill Recordings) is a “split”, one would expect around half-an-hour of bile and Sludgy hostility: but as if to ram home the belief that There Is No Hope, this thing grinds along morbidly, relentlessly, for a full hour and forty minutes. Continue reading


PODCAST: Episode 16 – Dead Witches Talks Up Their New Album “The Final Exorcism”

Ghost Cult’s DJ Astrocreep caught up with the members of Dead Witches at the Heavy Psych Sounds Fest earlier this year in London. The band is a low key Stoner Doom supergroup (ex-Electric Wizard, With The Dead, Psychedelic Witchcraft, Sea Bastard), with a fascinating lineage and power songs. Their new album The Final Exorcism is out now via Heavy Psych Sounds. Check it out! Continue reading

Cave Bastard – The Bleak Shall Devour The Earth

No relation to UK Doomsters Sea Bastard, the equally brilliantly named Cave Bastard were formed in 2014 by former Cattle Decapitation bassist Troy Oftedal and ex-Bridge Jumper guitarist Nick Padron. Based in San Diego (which, as everyone who has seen Anchorman knows, was discovered in 1904 and is German for “a whale’s vagina”), the band soon added rhythm guitarist Chase Ferguson, drummer Steven Reed, and former Gutrot vocalist Steve Pearce. Releasing a two-track demo in 2016 and appearing on a split LP with Texan act BLK OPS in 2017, Cave Bastard are now ready to unleash their debut album The Bleak Shall Devour The Earth (Accident Prone). Continue reading

Grave Lines – Welcome to Nothing



Formed by members of Sea Bastard, Landskap, Dead Existence and Throne, Grave Lines could be regarded as some form of UK underground supergroup. That pedigree should also give one an idea what to expect from début album Welcome to Nothing (Black Reaper Records), but there are elements of surprise.  Continue reading

Primitive Man – Sea Bastard – Barbarian Hermit: Live at Star and Garter, Manchester UK

Primitive Man (10)

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

There are two things that most definitely will not be missed when Manchester’s “Old Lady” is criminally levelled to make way for unnecessary and unwelcome redevelopment: the appalling quality of their draught ale; and the surly, unwelcoming behaviour of the corpulent head barman. Everything else about this wonderful little venue, from its weathered, ageing exterior to its intimate attic space, will be a terrible loss to the history and future of this proudly cultural city.

Barbarian Hermit, by Rich Price Photography

Barbarian Hermit, by Rich Price Photography

Battling against The Angus Young Quintet a mile up the road, tonight the S&G was treated to the second visit to the city in fourteen months from Denver monsters Primitive Man and their friends and touring partners, Brighton’s Sea Bastard. Repeating last year’s scenario, local Black Thrashers Satanic Dystopia dropped at the eleventh hour so it was left to fellow Mancunians Barbarian Hermit to blaze the trail. Though less sartorially striking than at the NOIZ All-dayer two months earlier, their Sludge-flavoured NOLA template woke up the room: charismatic frontman Si Scarlett’s roar carrying an incredible depth, his Ollie Reed-like features reinforced by the drama of his performance. With Scarlett and similarly-attired bassist Chris Wood launching their baker boy caps early doors, however, the lack of visual strike from this albeit powerful, entertaining band exposed the music which, despite the heavy groove and some electrifying leadwork from Adam Robertshaw, didn’t carry the intensity of the other bands.

Sea Bastard, by Rich Price Photography

Sea Bastard, by Rich Price Photography

As the first crushing chords came in, Sea Bastard frontman Monty looked as sleepy as his shirt. The south-east monstrosity came wading in, however, with the colossal weight and sluggish movement of a rudely-awoken Kraken. ‘The Hermit’, their massive contribution to the recent ‘split’ with their touring buddies, seemed so much more brutal live: Monty’s cavernous, blackened roar duelling with the sarsen-dragging rhythm section and Oli Irongiant’s crushing axe, entertainingly and expressively wielded as ever. The band are completely transfixing and, in this little room, the implosive, crawling portent made one feel physically sick in the most passionate, euphoric fashion. To witness Irongiant undertake the riff solo of the ensuing ‘Astral Rebirth’ and feel the pain of every chord was both moving, terrifying and euphorically ominous, foretelling the phenomenal crush that soon arrived and duly sent the rafters for cover. The subtle yet bewildering speed of bassist Steve Patton and touring drummer Sam Chase in the track’s quickening, meanwhile, displayed the gamut of skill possessed by this unit: one of the greatest from our shores and certainly responsible for one of the all-time great performances here.

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

Primitive Man shouldn’t be here again, but thank fuck they are. Their sound is a hideous joy: Ethan McCarthy’s diseased, crazed delivery comes from one of the nicest guys around, his bulging eyes as terrifying as his roaring mouth, which gave the impression that his whole face was opening. Jonathan Campos’ bass, in turn, isn’t a bass: it’s 20,000 articulated engines crushing your soul with every pluck of the string. New drummer Joe laid waste to his kit, McCarthy eyeing the ceiling with the torment and belief of a guy who’s actually seen God. Suddenly, all of the musicians who’d appeared earlier were transfixed, videoing the performance as if we’d never see the Man’s like again. The pace switched whilst maintaining the horror, a stark isolation blending with raw emotion, and to do that with such pregnant hostility was utterly enthralling.

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

The vicious, howling breakdown of the set closer (“Just a new track” McCarthy typically understated later) is the most harrowing expression of pain and hate I’ve ever witnessed, turning possessed devotees into shirt-ripping zealots with the sheer uncontrollable tension of it all. Shattered, spent, deaf, and grinning from ear to ear, I was by no means alone in caring not a jot for any damage done to my creaking body. It was a joyous surprise to see both of these bands so soon, and who knows how long it will be until the next time. When that does come around, there is quite simply no good reason for your absence.

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

Primitive Man, by Rich Price Photography

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Keeper- The Space Between Your Teeth


Keeper The Sace Between Your Teeth album cover ghostcultmag

2015 was a big year for Californian duo Keeper: the original issue of EP The Space Between Your Teeth following mere months after their mammoth split with Sea Bastard, and just weeks before an evil joint release with Canadians Old Witch. This reissue (Third I Rex) sees its two epic, crawling tracks get a fresh press and boy, do they deserve it.

The howling, lamenting guitar opening ‘The King’ decorates a Funeral pace before Penny Keats’ hideous, prurient larynx covers the body in unholy juices. A Blackened scream full of pain, evocative of ex-Lord Mantis rasper Charlie Fell, its relentless pitch is both unnerving and affecting. The weight of the brutal yet monolithic mid-section is pulverising and lifted only slightly by the evocative bass passages of Jacob Lee, so reminiscent of Dylan Desmond. This graces the final move toward a consuming, resounding swell: a euphoric yet terrible triumph, The Great Diseased railing to the skies against their plight.

Segueing seamlessly into ‘The Fool’, Keats’ slightly more uplifting drum pattern duels against the harrowing squall before a reverb-drenched riff accompanies more horrific utterances. With a filthier, more malevolent expression does the EP’s second half spew forth, creeping with similar intent to that of the girl emerging from the well in the remake of The Ring. It’s an oppressive sound yet, with the merest hint of quickened pace from those cleverly dictating drums, it is lifted from the occasionally turgid monotony: a gradually building wall of portent suddenly dropping into an utterly crushing mid-section. In raising the track back from the floor Keats’ voice assumes demonic proportions in both foetid hostility and power, underpinned by more subtle bass lead, until a barely controlled explosion seeps and squeals through the speakers, and alarming drums send the fulminating close careering into the dank earth.

It’s hard to acclaim a reissue as a tour de force, but this is as close as it gets. It’s a testing listen yet, for those of us with a more disgusting and slow musical palate, it’s an opportunity to bask in the most wondrous embodiment of acrid recrimination and ferocious protest.



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Primitive Man / Sea Bastard- Split EP

Primitive Man Sea Bastard- Split EP cover ghostcultmag


Around the same time last year, Primitive Man and Sea Bastard released two of the most hateful – and well received – products of the year. The former’s vicious EP Home is Where the Hatred Is (Relapse) and the latter’s nightmarish split with Keeper (Dry Cough Records) were followed by a joint tour of the UK last spring and, with this split release (Dry Cough Records), the bonds the two outfits have forged now become indelible.

Primitive Man’s two tracks kick us off, and with a familiar feel: the band’s squalling, Blackened Sludge given added horror by the face-melting roar of Ethan McCarthy. The clanking, Low-end ferocity of ‘Cold Resolve’ is certainly augmented by some of McCarthy’s most fearsome barks to date, and the portentous squeals of the sinister drop are enough to collapse the nervous system. The resonance of bass and drums launching us into ‘Servant’ also have a primal minimalism which clears the bowels: its fizzing, sparing riff a tolling bell which flays the skin with each swing, McCarthy’s voice the scouring brush rubbing salt in the open wounds, the brief quickening a Deathly flash. It’s a terrifying assault: appalling, guttural, startling, physically affecting…and damn satisfying.

Another near-20 minute slice of snaking pummel from Brighton’s finest closes this tormenting platter. ‘The Hermit’ largely follows the Bastard template but unusually, so gradually you hardly notice, it gathers pace through a viscerally pounding, pregnant centrepiece. Oli Irongiant’s deep, singular, painfully slow riff sets the tone before the lumbering behemoth is brutally awoken by the pulverising rhythms of Steve Patton and George Leaver. Telling the tale of the persecuted Northern monk St Cuthbert, Monty’s screaming roar wraps itself around the mellow hundredweight like your favourite Serpentine villain, rising and falling with each line, carrying that Sabbath-esque quickening toward a low, nefarious final movement which is both torturous and earth-shaking.

This “split” has been in the pipeline for some time and, thankfully, it’s been worth the wait. Crushing and hostile, these are two of the most exciting Doom-centric bands around right now and to have them both on one plate is a horrifying bliss.