The best thing about Charlottesville’s Üga Büga is that it’s hard to describe. I’ve seen it called “Southern sludge beard metal” and “hog rock” (likely in reference to its debut, 2024’s Year of the Hog), but neither seems entirely fair. It’s sludge-ish, but not like those who plunder the slo-mo riffery of early Black Sabbath with a detuned, lowest-note goal.
Going by the photo, every member of the band’s got some kind of beard, but they’re not into over-the-top ’80s-era, ZZ Top-length territory. Üga Büga’s sound is undeniably metal with bouts of kick drum-driven guitar runs, at times harkening back to early ’90s grunge with slight strains of Alice In Chains and Nirvana among other Seattle disciples. There are also fleeting moments of prog in the layered chords that mercifully excuse themselves before they overstay their welcome. But what struck me most when I listened to Year of the Hog is how Üga Büga has developed and deviated from a performance I saw some time ago in the back room of Rapture.
I came away from that show feeling like the band had a unique sound—as if it was making up every song as it went along, a manic improv with each unison note or chord happening as if by lucky accident. This album is a markedly different listening experience.
While Year of the Hog maintains Üga Büga’s best elements of surprise—a disco beat out of left field here, a soulful breakdown there—the band has given this batch of tracks the time and attention to mature. Vocalist/guitarist Calloway Jones may not be every metal fan’s cup of tea as he isn’t a toneless screamer, but someone who’s got his own voice—and you can’t say that too often these days, especially when you’re talking about metal. If this record translates live and the band builds on it in its next collection of tracks, Üga Büga may be on to something.
Stoner doom D.C. trio Greenhead just released a new song, “All-Seeing Eye,” that features bottom-heavy chord chugging that lands close to the aforementioned early Ozzy/Iommi style in its chorus. But it’s one that’s catchy enough to think that a full set has the potential to keep everyone listening satisfied.
Opener Diseased Earth from Staunton has been at it since 2014 and its latest EP …And We Shall Seek Oblivion serves more sludge, but it’s the kind that picks up often enough to force uptempo head-bobbing with a barked-out misanthropy of guttural vocals.
