ROBEDOOR - RANCOR KEEPER REVIEWS Blogstitude Good morning Cthulu, chilling with staff on the cover of this new Robedoor CD....and how's the music today? Robedoor, as mentioned just a couple posts earlier, has always done just fine maintaining their established level of aesthetic success, but are their any next levels in their future? In other words, are they gonna pull a Mouthus on us? (cf. Saw a Halo on Load Records.) Weeelll, so far so promising on the first track, we've got the same deep deep drone murk as always but now with a perceptibly new 'windy/stormy' vibe that is definitely Lovecraftian enough. And the bar stays high throughout, with more new territory explored via industrial percussion and subtle low-end keyboard grind.... the last track "Wendigo Psychosis" is a good 'un. (Waitaminnit, what the fuck was that title??).... Boomkat With sleeve artwork boasting a demonic octopus-headed figure standing at the mouth of some diabolical, cyclonic gateway, this record sets out its stall from the outset: Rancor Keeper is a maelstrom of deep, dark noise constructions, spewing forth torrents of contorted instrumentation (believe it or not there's cello, guitar, percussion and keyboards buried in here) and harrowed, wailing voices. Californian duo Alex and Britt seem to have refined their unholy din for this release, distilling the Robedoor sound to a godless horror show of atmospheric sonic punishment. While pieces like Penitent Runes' and 'Abyss Whisperer' certainly sound hellish, there's always some sort of harmonic cogency lurking in the details, but by the time we reach fifteen minute closer 'Wendigo Psychosis' the pair really plummet into the furthermost reaches of noise, initially falling through a gentle five-minute drone passage, before ultimately combusting into a feathery, distorted mass. Crucial Blast After a putting out a boatload of limited-edition cassettes, CD-Rs, and vinyl releases since 2005, Robedoor are finally dropping their first definitive CD release, a four track monstrosity of abstract floating doomsludge called Rancor Keeper that is the heaviest thing that Release The Bats has ever sent my way. Robedoor is the duo of Alex (keyboard, drum, cello) and Britt (guitar, vocals, cymbals), Britt is also one of the main people behind the Not Not Fun label, that Los Angeles based imprint for all things handmade and noisy and psychedelic. The Robedoor sound comes from that world, formed from nightmarish black walls of drug drone, the guys hovering over effects pedals and coalescing massive ur-riffs out of smoke and amp feedback and crushing slabs of distortion. Monstrous visions of squid-headed wizards (squizzards?) and Lovecraftian oceans rise up from the stormy murk. They've taken the epic dirge of old Skullflower and mashed it through the trippy, shamanistic vocal sludge of The Skaters and Sunn O)))'s earthshaking ambient doom, making this the heaviest FX drugsludge I've ever heard, a way WAY heavier and doomier version of stuff like Double Leopards and Hototogisu and Zaimph. On "Abyss Whisperer", distant oil-drum rhythms and an undercurrent of dark rumbling frequencies shudder beneath the floating wordless vocal chants and vaguely celestial electronic melodies. A gorgeous tidal flow of industrial pounding and crushing amplifier rumble swirls into the haunting ghost incantations of "Penitent Runes". Alex brings out the cello for the first half of the 15-minute "Wendigo Psychosis" and weaves a series of ominous drones around a cloud of low end keyboard electronics and minimal, heavy guitar notes plucked out and hung on the song's wintery deathscape. But at the midway point, the track lurches into a crushing wave of metallic sludge, the guitars suddenly cranked to in-the-red levels of distortion, a detuned rumbling presence that is monstrously heavy but which reveals itself as an amazingly catchy melodic riff that is being repeated over and over. Drums begin to enter the fray, a slowed down splatter dirge, every part of the kit being pounded on simultaneously and sucked down into the increasing turmoil of the sound, howling vocals streak across the void like falling comets, and at the same time that everything is becoming more and more crushing and blown out and sludgy and overdriven, that melody is becoming more and more apparent, until finally the track fully takes shape as some kind of ultraheavy behemoth pop song that rises up from Robedoor's murk. It's the best jam that I have yet to hear from these guys, it actually sounds like The Goslings a little bit, but exponentially more heavy and devestating, The Goslings gone total doom, sweet emotive melody avalanched under cascading sheets of Broken Flag style noise and ancient megadistorted amplifiers and shambling industrial percussion. Fucking top notch, and highly recommended. The disc is released in a limited editon of 500 copies in a Dual Plover style gatefold sleeve that has a sheet of black felt inside of the interior pocket where the disc goes. Vital Weekly Despite their thirty some releases, the name Robedoor is not a household name here. So far we reviewed only two of their releases, of which one was partly in collaboration with Pocahaunted. Robedoor has two members: Alex on keyboard, cello and drum and Britt on guitar, voice and cymbal. On the cover we see them, crawling on the floor, with a minimum of means but with a heavy impact. The release with Pocahaunted sounded drone like with rock influences, here its drone with a strong influence of noise. Noise is the big thing in the US underground, and I take the risk of sounding like the old man that I am, it's a scene where I found it hard to hear something new. I don't share the enthusiasm that some of the kids have for this. The history of music works in waves and everything returns: the music of Robedoor here could have been on (almost any) Broken Flag cassette in the 80s. Don't get me wrong however: its nothing more than a statement, rather than a qualification. If you'd ask me to judge this in terms of avant-garde, musical innovation, than I'd have to decline that. What Robedoor does is not very new. That's hardly a problem, I think, since it's simply not necessary to measure everything on the ruler (rules?) of innovation. The four pieces here are cascading walls of drone noise, minimal yet effective. An industrial wall of sound, with sounds feeding through a stream of distortion and echo pedals, howls and in the epic piece 'Wendigo Psychosis' the addition of drums, that recalls good ol Skullflower. It's the kind of noise that I do like, very much even. Just as much as I do like Ramleh or Skullflower. The Wire #291 After generating scores of cassettes and CD-Rs over the past few years, LA duo Robedoor have begun disseminating their music on more 'official' releases. Last autumn brought Closer To The Cliff on Interregnum and an even better double CD split with Pocahaunted on Digitalis. Now the group climb higher with Rancor Keeper, four heavy tracks encased in a gatefold sleeve whose Gothic grey matches the dark chill of the sounds inside. As the title implies, the duo are devoutly dedicated to cavernous drones, valuing hypnotic cacaphony over sonic variety. Their work may not scream originality, but for massive noise that both soothes and disturbs - the kind purveyed by Skullflower, Sunn O))) and Jazzfinger - Robedoor are realiably stellar. The key to their sound is a core of low rumble, a subterranean spine suggesting the duo have mounted contact mics on California's tectonic plates. Whatever noise gets layered on top, the foundation never falters, allowing their drones to slowly build without losing tension. It makes the roaring blast of "Emtpy Temple" seem almost prayerful, the gradual drift of "Abyss Whisperer" almost scary, the Phil Niblock-like tones of "Penitent Runes" both reserved and unruly. The final track, "Wendigo Psychosis", seems initially to be Robedoor's only misstep, starting tentatively and meandering for almost five minutes. But once it explodes into a cloud of hiss, the resulting density pays off, much the way Rancor Keeper rewards the patience of the listener and duo alike. - Marc Masters