Review: Lord Buffalo ‘Holus Bolus’
Having been in a post-rock phase, I wanted to break things up and step out of the well-ploughed furrow, so when the latest album from Texas-dwelling Americana-flavoured heavy rock Lord Buffalo appeared from the always reliable Blues Funeral Recordings, being a fan of other regal Buffalos, I thought this would be an interesting spin of the promo roulette wheel.
Unlike certain restless New York varieties of the species, the Austin-based quartet come to their heavy brand of blues-rich psych with a heavy dose of American Gothic inspiration that draws from folk and cinematic influences, name-dropping the likes of Ennio Morricone and Angelo Badalamenti alongside usual suspects such as Black Sabbath and Swans.
Formed just over a decade ago, the band comprising of Daniel Pruitt (guitar/bass/piano/vocals/melodica), Garrett Hellman (guitar/sub-bass/piano/synths), Patrick Patterson (violin) and Yamal Said (drums/percussion) have amassed numerous releases, most notably their 2017 self-titled debut and 2020’s Tohu WaBohu which earned them a slot supporting Elder in 2023, as well appearances across festivals such as Psycho Las Vegas, Ripplefest Texas and Monolith On The Mesa.
Their blend of heavy, funk-infused rock incorporates a variety of instruments and sounds to create a hazy, droning atmospheric takes on the psychedelic ambience that has run through some of the greatest hard rock bands to grace a stage stateside but looks to add their own country folk slant on proceedings.
Holus Bolus takes its name from an antiquated term meaning ‘all at once’ and frontman Pruitt has commented on the record saying it was recorded (with great results from Danny Reisch and Max Lorenzen) in what felt like ‘a sleep-deprived hallucination to me’ and the outcome reflects this free forming, dream-like wonder from start to finish.
Opening with the languid notes of the title track, the rich lead is pure sun-drenched blues over the pounding drums. As the robust blend of soaring notes and deep bass pulse sinks in, Pruitt’s voice is immediately captivating. Half spoken/half sung, it is immediately quintessentially steeped in classic American musical history and has echoes of Elvis, Jim Morrison, even Leonard Cohen, as the heady drama unfolds with the additional instrumentation of the melodica, the violins and sub-bass add layers of retro imaging’s like they have stepped out of the same time warp Dave Wyndorf came from.
With nods to the post-punk of Joy Division, who also shared a penchant for the gothic side of rock, Slow Drug feels exactly like it says on the tin. Instrumental, repetitive and dark, the ominous, relentless march of the beat forms a backdrop of drones from the strings and synth. The band recreate a hallucinatory audio trip that has similar musical explorations to the likes of Harvestman put through an almost industrial blender.
As the track creaks and groans like a demon trying to come into this world, the insistent dub-like beat anchors the listener, allowing the freeform experimentation of the members to jam off each other, the burn of the guitar lingering as the synth grows and changes with each cycle.
Passing Joy offers relief from the dense pressure with a folk-tinged jangle and Ian Astbury-like vocal intonations. This laidback groove drips with country twang, slide notes and squeaking violin. Built around a simple mantra and musical passages that dance off as the track builds to a dramatic finish, they up the intensity to break out into a sublime solo. Overlaid by almost inaudible backing vocals and melodies, the track stumbles over the line in glorious fashion.
Once again, atmospherics take over for Malpaisano as the ringing guitar brings the temp down to an eerie floating, stripped-down piece. Backed by slow, whining notes, sawing strings and tentative percussion strikes, it sets an echoing sensory deprivation to set the scene for Pruitt to rap out (in the old sense rather than a hip hop style) beat poetry that is reminiscent of some of Jim Morrison’s esoteric An American Prayer album.
I Wait On The Door Slab starts with pipe sounds before the up-tempo snap and glam stomp of the beat joins the fray. The mid-paced, smoky vibe works through a growing paranoia with a focus on the vocal intonations before it becomes a celebratory and towering catchy bounce that could be the distant cousin of T-Rex or Bowie in their pomp heyday. Heavy and mesmerising, this is Lord Buffalo at their drugged-out, haunting best as they toy with your emotions, teasing and making you crave the moment they let loose and go for the big swinging climax.
In keeping with the format, Cracks In The Vermeer slows things to a crawl despite the bombastic-sounding strikes, and echoing stateliness of the opening. As the shuffling drums perk up the drifting musings, they never quite get going, instead opting for a dazed and introspective crawl before fading on an unsettling echo.
The lingering Rowing In Eden closes the album with the thrumming of violins and cavernous drones that have run throughout Holus Bolus. Largely voiceless, save the choral hum toward the second half, this is the sort of ambient mediation that harks back to the likes of Harvestman from earlier. The nagging violin stabs that punctuate the growing sense of unease make this a story soundtrack in its own right, connected and yet almost incidental like the casual ending to an Edgar Allen Poe piece, full of beauty and yet a sense of danger as it grows to a towering cacophony of violence.
In truth, I may have wanted more of the band at the full tilt of their power, the brash confidence of the more bullish and driven tracks sucked me in, but at times felt a little derailed by drawing back and tempering these moments, especially ending on a sombre, slower notes. That said, Holus Bolus is entirely consistent with what the band are trying to achieve, and these small grumbles are exactly that, small. Ultimately this is a highly entertaining listen.
Label: Blues Funeral Recording
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden
