Numero Group’s Warfaring Strangers: Darkscorch Canticles corrals 16 bands that dove headfirst, and while the poker was hot as hellfire, into the choppy waters of occult-focused and occasionally satanic ‘70s hard rock action. Its spoils uncover a pocket of previously uncelebrated motion; if not transcendent it does provide a return of dependable quality.
While humorous, the title of this 2LP is also appropriate, and the Rob Soden-designed cover is certainly amongst the most fitting sleeves I’ve ever glimpsed. Immediately my mind flooded with visions of 10th grade, the memory only strengthened by discovering the jacket was based on band-logo designs that decorated Soden’s high school Peechee folder.
One of my classmates, and to describe him as a metal fan would be a severe understatement, adorned the backs of his spiral-bound composition notebooks in a similar fashion. And I’d noticed other hard rock/metal lovers scrawling logos (I recall the most popular being AC/DC and Metallica) onto the covers of their pads and tablets, so this wasn’t necessarily a new development.
But the precision, consistency and sheer intensity of this one kid sitting across from me in sophomore study hall has always lingered in my consciousness. More than just fandom, his labyrinthine calligraphy was a declaration of extreme devotion; instead of focusing upon algebra or biology, he was ruminating upon and championing the finer points of Zeppelin, Sabbath, Priest, and Maiden.
I could relate. But what I couldn’t do was recreate band insignia for shit, and try as I might for variation, any and all attempts to forge logos of my own design ended up looking like the lettering on the side of a Trailways Charter Bus. But pubescent music love this committed often gets expressed in other ways. I also recall my 10th grade cohort playing in a band, just one of many formed by my fellow scholars.
Much of rock’s history is tied to this very impulse. Indeed, the ‘60s garage wave as documented on Nuggets, Pebbles etc is intrinsically linked to the desire to ditch homework for band practice. Once there, ideas copped from the Stones or Yardbirds would hopefully get reworked into a combination of the fresh and the highly familiar.
Rock’s influence upon formative minds also gets applied to punk’s overall mystique, though much of that style’s early stuff was made by adults who simply didn’t want to grow up. And make no mistake, finding success in the playing of rock music, whether it’s full-on stardom or a weekend sideline pulling down extra dollars knocking out covers in a local tavern, basically insures that one has avoided conforming, either fully or just in part, to somebody else’s idea of what adulthood entails.
If only for a brief period, the folks comprising Warfaring Strangers were about as far from a typical post-adolescent experience as was possible. Taking inspiration from Sabbath and Zeppelin’s occult/mystical blues-rock/metal Mk 1 and to a lesser extent the organ-toned (post-Vanilla Fudge) heaviness of Deep Purple and Uriah Heep, these groups, sporting the unsubtle yet thematically correct monikers found on the sleeve, define an undeniably lowbrow and heretofore essentially unknown subterranean chain-reaction.
In assembling the fruits of these mostly private-press labors, Numero Group has decided against a façade of stone-faced seriousness. It’s a reasonable choice, jiving well with the music’s non-realist objectives, though some might deem the label’s upcoming board game Cities of Darkscorch to be going a little (or a lot) overboard.
On the other hand the overt connection between the acts on this set (and this era/strain of hard rock in general) and the Dungeons & Dragons crowd is totally apt. Emerging in 1974, D&D fits this scenario like sword in sheath, as does sci-fi/fantasy publisher Daw Books (founded 1971) and Frank Frazetta, whose artwork during this period was frequent on paperbacks (notably the Conan the Barbarian series), magazine covers and the sides of custom vans.
Spinal Tap was satire, people. I bring this up because Warfaring Strangers includes a band named Stonehenge. And it opens with Michigan-based outfit Air’s evil ceremony-themed “Twelve O’Clock Satanial.” Landing in dark-hued psych-prog territory, the a-side of their only 45 (recorded in the studio where the MC5 cut High Time), reveals a well-developed and disciplined sound; it’s unsurprising that one of their 150-plus gigs came as opener for Alice Cooper.
A comparable vibe surrounds “Warlord” by Canton, OH’s W.R.A.T.H. The participants of Warfaring Strangers have elsewhere been portrayed as “amateur,” though in no way are they sloppy or incompetent. They just often lacked the basic resources a major label act would take for granted; in turn these selections can sound quite distinct from their inspirations. For example, due to W.R.A.T.H.’s singing drummer suffering from a bout of laryngitis, “Warlord” finds the guitarist’s wife filling in on vocals.
Amusing perhaps, but the result is pleasantly unusual. Less engaging is the Tolkien-inspired “King of the Golden Hall” from Iowa’s Stonehenge, though their riff-rock proved sturdy enough to deliver them from church basement shows onto the stages of Illinois strip clubs. From there Toronto’s Triton Warrior land one of Warfaring Strangers’ best entries with the sludgy roar of “Sealed in the Grave.”
Much of what’s here is accentuated by an air of attractive murkiness. One can call it sub-Zep, but it can also be noted as proto-Doom, particularly the psych-blooze Sabbath-isms of the terrific “Slave of Fear” by Houston’s Stone Axe, with the obvious caveat that very few ears heard these records (“Sealed in the Grave”’s 2,000 copy run is huge in comparison to most) prior to their compilation here.
But an alternate pattern doth emerge; specifically, the gig was the thing, with the records essentially a byproduct of that activity. This relates to both Green Bay’s Junction and Tampa’s Wizard, though they grappled with differing levels of success. Junction’s “Sorcerer” lent the a-side to their sole 7-inch, while Wizard’s “Séance” derives from an LP funded by a Decca Records A&R rep.
Both “Sorcerer” and “Séance” possess driving cohesiveness that can only come from practice and performance. These attributes become defining characteristics for Warfaring Strangers, assisting even lesser contributions such as the aforementioned Stonehenge or the moody but unexceptional “Tasmania” by Indiana’s Stoned Mace.
And some tracks bring curious twists. For instance, Arrogance was the first band of longtime North Carolina figure (and future REM producer) Don Dixon, and Michigan’s Sonaura warmed-up crowds for regional heavyweights The Stooges, MC5, Alice Cooper, and Bob Seger. Houston’s Dark Star unveil the most contemporary number, the hard rock swagger of “Spectre” employing a nicely grouchy guitar tone and just a hint of punk.
Due to the presence of organ, Wilson, NC’s modestly named Inside conjure a surprisingly successful blend of Steppenwolf, Purple, and Heep on “Wizzard King.” And the fact that most of these cuts appeared on 45s helps curb inclinations toward excessive length, so the bluesy stomp of “Dark Days” by Detroit’s Space Rock is over before it can wear out its welcome.
Chicago’s Medusa, probably the most prolific outfit here due to last year’s belated issue by Numero Group of their circa-’76 LP One Step Beyond, do stretch out a bit on “Black Wizard,” but with enough variance to keep things fresh. If all these titular wizards aren’t enough to firmly underscore the shared vision contained herein, next up is Gorgon Medusa, also from Chicago, with the fairly languid “Sweet Child.”
Closing strongly with the extended guitar/synth groove of “Cry for the Newborn” by San Antonio-based African-American group Hellstorm, Warfaring Strangers is a consistently solid dose of history once obscured. Offering a handful of truly inspired moments, it’s in no way a substitute for the long-established highpoints of those hard rockin’ ‘70s, but anybody with a predilection for that style should find this collection an enlightening ride.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B
