auteur: Chris Dexters (Roadburn)

I have to admit not being able to fully enjoy a whole album's worth of SALLY one of the latest signings to Lee Dorrian's label.Sure, their first record has plenty of power, but lacks enough variety to hold my attention for more than 10 minutes. The vibe's right, though, so given some time, I bet this band could come up with something that'll stick. Only time will tell...In songs like "Monkey Steals The Peach" or "Monolick", glimpses of greatness shine through when they juxtapose heavy riffage over thick layers of rhythm. Jurassic doom rock in evolution...

Performing at this second Stoner Session, Sally had but one mission: the ample destruction of unsuspecting eardrums (thank you MatAmp!). Amidst the pandemonium, some well-targeted doom riffs rear their frightening heads, only to submerge again into the dense pool of molten lead.Guitarboy Andy Parker, axe pending at knee height, apprentice in the art of heaviness, is driven forward relentlessly by his bass and stick wielding mates.
Together with what's left of our ears, Lee Smith's voice -at times barely audible- is dragged into oblivion.
Pity, as I'd hoped that this show would've made me change my mind about them. For the time being I'll just give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe the next record will bring us solace...

KARMA TO BURN Apalachian bad boys of rock... now there's a band I had anticipated to see live for a long time. I've always felt they've been typecasted "stoner rock" unrightfully. Their stubborn, southern-flavoured brand of instrumental hard rock surpasses the monicker with great ease, making "Wild Wonderful Purgatory" one of last year's most underrated albums.
I really wondered if they'd succeed in bringing across the same feel their albums have, without boring an audience to death with a full set of instrumentals...

"Good evenin', we be Karma To Burn...", and off we went on a rollercoaster straight into the blazing pits of Hades. The sound suddenly turned out to be crystal clear and astonishingly crisp, making Will's riffs an aural delicatessen. "30", 32", "3", "34", guess the band that doesn't care about singers, couldn't care less about song titles either... We are served a set jam packed with excerpts from "WWP" and the eponimously titled first one. "20", "24", "31", hard rock done by numbers? Not nearly, think more along the lines of a freak parade of rabid, shredding riffola or a soundtrack to a chase scene.And drummer Rob is a must-see, for the beer spouting, gap-toothed madman he is. Kind of like Keith Moon's degenerate cousin, only scarier. Good thing these guys have K2B as an outlet, otherwise they'd be shooting more than just empty beer bottles at their ranch up in the West-virginian mountains...
Feuled by positive feedback from the crowd, the band worked its way through 70 minutes of their brash, most straightforward instro-core, without a second of boredom in sight. Nice one, and yes: they stole that riff straight out of "Detroit Rock City"...