Cosmik Debris July 2001 Issue by DJ Johnson www.cosmik.com

I've come to the conclusion that Detroit, Michigan is so haunted that the general population walks around with a spooky aura without even knowing it. Put guitars in their hands and prepare for chills. (I figure Bob Seger must wear a protective helmet when nobody's looking.) Well, here's where you're expecting me to say The Witches fall somewhere 'tween Iggy and Alice in the Detroit spookathon, but that ain't so. The Witches are off in the shadows cast only by their own imaginations, radiating a sound that begins as nearly standard garage, probably just to get you to walk far enough in that you can't get back out before all hell breaks loose. I'm not talking about tight, power chording rock and roll here; I'm talking about acoustic guitars played in minor keys of sadness while a gothic bass line and persistent drum keep them moving along, and the melancholy voice of Troy Gregory telling what would be cautionary tales if only it weren't too late. I'm talking about PSYCHO-delic sounds that build and evolve and dissolve and eventually break apart with pieces of you strapped to it. All the instruments come back together for the next tune, a beautiful bit of darkness that reminds us in no uncertain terms that beauty doesn't have to be sweet. Then it's back to the mind games, this time music that conjures visions of some dangerous kind of middle eastern travel, presumably clutched in the talons of vampires. With Halloween still a ways off, this is just the spike in the vein I've craved. The song that's playing right now is phasing so badly it's turning inside out. Or is it me? I happily crank The Witches even louder and willingly roll under the pendulum. Let 'er rip!

November 2001 by Claudio Sossi

Now here's something different!

Combining a mix of retro/psych-pop with themes of all things spooky, The Witches' Universal Mall is at once an ethereal sonic feast and a melodic garagey trip. Along the way are preaching testimonials (People What's Wrong With You), Cramps-like workouts (The Robot Family), and slithery rockers (She Got Some Kinda Thing).

Fronting all of this is the enigmatic vocalist Troy Gregory - who has such a feel for this stuff that I'm sure little kids avoid his house on Halloween ("Be good, or Troy Gregory will get you!"). Gregory delivers with a great rock and roll swagger, often with more than a little haunting (of course) reverb on his vocal, while the band often lock into the most hypnotic grooves. One listen to Demons All Around Her and you're hooked, pal. Possessed even.

Given Up Girls is perfect Nuggets-like pop with its roundabout guitar and stomping rhythm while Devil Made 'Em Run sounds like a spaghetti western theme by way of The Stooges. That's what makes Universal Mall so memorable - this clash of musical and cultural references all appearing under the thematic umbrella of things that go "bump" in the night. But it's not just a dependency on "style" that moves Universal Mall along. The musical chops are there throughout the thirteen tracks here. I can't help but think that this is what Glen Danzig was hoping to accomplish with the failed Samhain.

So, there you have it - a multitude of points for originality, but also for the talent to just make great music. Great stuff.

Oct/Nov 2001

Pop Matters

Nov 2001 by Patrick Schabe

I hate to say it, but the most interesting thing about The Witches might be group leader Troy Gregory's history compared to his current band's music. Gregory should be one of those famous footnotes that makes music encyclopedias continually cross-reference. If you don't know his name, that's because he's one of those behind-the-scenes types who just happens to have had his finger in a lot of pies.

Troy Gregory replaced Jason Newstead as bassist for Flotsam and Jetsam when Newstead left that band to join Metallica. Then he left Flotsam and Jetsam to hook up with Prong for a while. That gig was short-lived as well, and he went on to work at various times with a multitude of groups that included Killing Joke and Swans. It would be only the strangest of ironies if Gregory were to join up with Metallica to replace the recently retired Jason Newstead.

But if the direction of his latest, and most permanent, endeavor, The Witches, is any indication, then Gregory probably wouldn't be interested. With such a hard-rock pedigree behind him, The Witches come as sort of a surprise. Infused with blues-rock chords, psychedelic-collage sound structuring, crashing percussion, and hollow, echoing vocals, The Witches sound like every period of the Rolling Stones up to the mid-'80s smashed together into one claustrophobic sound, and then distilled into the most pure Detroit garage elements. It is chaotic music, to be sure, and maybe that comes from the diverse background that Gregory brings with him from acts like Killing Joke and Swans, but somehow in the crazy, hyperkinetic atmosphere, some sense of traditional rock and roll is maintained.

Actually, The Witches are probably more interesting than anything Metallica has done lately anyway, even if the lack of commercial success won't buy mansions. There's a real sense of variety in the music on Universal Mall, even though the tone seems to be more or less steadily dark. Certain songs, like "Given Up Girls" and "What It Really?," stick to a more or less acoustic (yet still bass-heavy) format, while others, like "People What's Wrong with You?" and "(She Got Some Kinda) Thing", sound more less like straight-up garage rock. But at this album's most brilliant -- and confusing -- moments, The Witches let the chaos loose.

Possibly my favorite track on the album, "The Robot Family", begins with some simple guitar-bass chord thumping, then peppers the tune with some baritone sax, as well as featuring the most melodic singing on the record. Then all hell breaks loose: the guitars become a wall of noise, the bari sax becomes a blaring horn of madness -- with either some double-recorded sax or another alto sax thrown in under the mix -- the bass becomes a rumbling miasma, and the drums lose all sense of consistent rhythm. And yet it sounds like a glorious rebellion of atonality, something like the live chaos of a Crash Worship show.

Gregory and company pull out all the bells and whistles (and organs and synths and everything in between) to be a part of the mix. The end result is an album that is difficult to pin down beyond its emotional reaction. The lyrics are dense, and often beyond interpretation, so it's mostly the affect of sound that becomes Universal Mall's real communication. That sound's one downside is that it's soupy, thick, and somewhat sluggish, but at its calmest and wildest moments, it envelops the listener like a cloud. The Witches' music might slip past many listeners' radars because of either its oddly retro feel or its often anti-melodic complexity, but those who take the time to listen will find a dense, dark world within this deceptive garage-rock sound.

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