Witch

Forget the dog, kids: 2006 is ostensibly the year of the Mascis. Not only are Dinosaur Jr. back for reunion tours and catalog reissuing, but my favorite wah-loving stoner is revisiting his Deep Wound and Upsidedown Cross days on the side, drumming for doom quartet Witch. Mascis handled Dinosaur's thunder toms when Murph wasn't around (see Green Mind), but in Witch, it's his singular role: no blistering solos or perfect "Freak Scene" poetry, just airtight rolls and bass-drum thuds.
Spanning the psych-metal/folk divide, two of Witch's members also play in the airy Vermont octet Feathers, perhaps known best as the backup crew on Devendra Banhart's anti-war song, "Heard Somebody Say" (although their pleasant forthcoming full-length on Gnomonsong should change that). Here, singer/guitarist Kyle Thomas and guitarist Asa Irons follow the footsteps of folk-rock genre-hoppers like Six Organs of Admittance's Ben Chasny, ably increasing the volume and peeling the tie-dye from the walls.
Fans of the legendary SST doom-metal band Saint Vitus will likely find this stuff to be fun, if hardly original. Just don't confuse them with Swedish Pentagram lovers Witchcraft. Actually, okay, confuse them if you want: There are plenty of similarities in the rollicking instrumentation and occult lyricism. The 1970s-style metal cross-referencing would make for a smoking double bill, but Witch inhales more Zeppelin with its Sabbath. Also, Witch's Thomas sounds nothing like Witchcraft vocalist/guitarist Magnus Pelander; instead, he warbles like Jason Simon of Dead Meadow or, oddly enough, the Apples in Stereo's Robert Schneider.
But whatever the proper analogue or crib sheet-- and regardless of the starpower Mascis brings to the proceedings-- the Feathers boys are the stars of Witch: The album's best moments result from the torrid dual guitar solos, the well-textured feedback, and how the heavy atmosphere contrasts with Thomas' sweetly nasal howl. And that howl is fantastic, especially when Witch aims for epic extrapolations as on the mountainous "Black Saint". He also contributes a supernatural spark to epic opener "Seer" (those riffs!) and the rising/falling "Rip Van Winkle", which should take 10 years off any self-respecting banger's lifespan. (It is sorta strange, though, that this Dead Meadow-sounding dude is from Feathers and Dead Meadow's newest album was called Feathers. Are they sharing the incense and blacklights or what?)
Renaissance Faire love song "Isadora" provides a pace change with dramatic cymbal washes/crashes and acoustic starlings, but the more expansive stuff works best: "Soul of Fire"'s boogie, for example, is less appealing than rifftastic "Changing"'s glorious bongwater drone. "Changing" also inserts resounding Druidic bell tolls and harmonies dipped in the magic circle and zodiac cloak. And whenever the shit seems to patter into the shadows, a whirlwind of guitar takes off and the boys bong out a few more rounds. These are such rich landscapes, all mossy and backed with an inked sky, it's like they live in an Arik Roper sunset.
Fans of doom and 70s psychedelia have hefty decisions to make these days, so if your budget's limited, here's how things stand on the Sabbath meter: Witch holds my attention more forcefully than the Sword or Pearls & Brass, but less gloriously than Om or Sleep. There's an energy and charisma in this dosage that I find lacking in some of the younger contemporaries. Really, it could be totally nerve-wrackingly debilitating to solo and scream in front of an icon of Mascis' stature, but Thomas imparts himself wonderfully. In fact, by the closing notes of the album's finale, I always forget it's J who's manning the drumkit at all.
— Brandon Stosuy, March 14, 2006