“Rock and roll don’t come from your brain, it comes from your crotch.” Thus spake James Franco’s Daniel Desario on Freaks and Geeks, and though I might disagree with the universality of that sentiment, there’s no denying that rock and roll emanates from a primitive place deep inside of us (how else do you explain the success of Limp Bizkit?).
While there’s no shortage of subgenres taking themselves too seriously, perhaps the biggest offender is black metal. Through all the corpse paint, church burning, and inter-band homicide, it often seems like there’s no room for levity in the scene. Even in the less purist offshoots like blackgaze, everything is delivered with complete sincerity.
Then there’s Kvelertak. Dubbing themselves “black ‘n’ roll,” the Norwegian sextet takes the blistering sonic assault of black metal and injects it with a heaping dose of crotch-thrusting rock and roll.
You might as well call it Blue Öyster Kvlt. And if there’s any question, it rules.
In the late 1980s, a young group of musicians in Palm Desert, California cut their teeth playing “generator parties.” Small crowds would gather in the desert with gasoline generators and copious amounts of beer and cannabis. And into these sparse, potsmoke filled wastelands, stonerrock pioneers Kyuss would play directly to the crowds, free of the politics of club owners and venue promoters.
I started 2020 with the realization that 
My love affair with Baroness wasn’t an immediate one. Even after becoming a fan, it took me a while to be fully convinced.