Sleep’s Dopesmoker — A Sober (and Not-So Sober) Analysis: ’99 Rewind

Jonah Krueger
·11 min read

The post Sleep’s Dopesmoker — A Sober (and Not-So Sober) Analysis: ’99 Rewind appeared first on Consequence.

Join Consequence for ’99 Rewind, a weekly celebration of the 25th anniversaries of the films, TV, and music from 1999. Today, we’re approaching Sleep’s monstrous, smokey, zooted Dopesmoker (also known as Jerusalem) on its own terms.

Sometimes, an album is excellent in a manner that warrants multi-chapter dissertations. Other times, an album’s greatness merely asks for us to tell its story before getting the fuck out of its way. Sleep’s Dopesmoker firmly falls in the latter.

The band’s magnum opus turns 25 this year (kind of, it’s complicated, we’ll get into it), and its reputation of “essential weed music” has only grown more and more prevalent. So prevalent, in fact, that newer fans (or older fans who might have a hard time remembering the 2000s for… reasons) might not realize that for years the “official, band-sanctioned” version of the album was considered lost to time. It’s a story shrouded in mythology, hard-ass riffs, and, yes, marijuana smoke.

To celebrate the hour-long stoner metal odyssey that is Dopesmoker, we’ve come prepared. We’ll start with old reliable: a sober, analytical look at the album’s history, content, and legacy. Then, armed with certain leafy green nugs and enough GWAR Bud of Gods gummies to kill a horse, we’re going to take our own advice and get out of its way. Let’s enter Jerusalem with Sleep as our guide.

Big Brain Sober Take

Like all great albums, Sleep’s record label famously hated Dopesmoker when the San Jose trio finally turned in the recording. The label, London Records, had won the band over other competing parties (mainly, Elektra) not just by fronting the bill for what would become Dopesmoker, but by promising to give Sleep full creative control over the project. They were apparently so excited about the band’s knack for bluesy, riff-heavy hard rock that they helped free them from their previous contract early. So, when the band wrapped recording in 1995 and plopped one 63-minute long song on whatever nameless executive’s desk was unlucky enough to receive it, they started second guessing their decisions.

Although, to say “their decisions” would be inaccurate. As the legend goes, the A&R reps that had championed the band were long gone by the time the Dopesmoker was ready for post-production. Those who inherited these strong-willed stoners attempted several rounds of mixing and editing to reign in the monstrous Dopesmoker. All the while, they pleaded with the band to consider something, anything, that would be a little more commercially accessible. But Sleep didn’t budge, and, at a standstill, the record was shelved, never to be officially released by London Records.

But what was on those master tapes that scared those label heads so? One hour of slow, methodical, ethereal, transcendental, smoky, progressive, aggressive, spacey, Sabbath-worshiping, indulgent, religiously weed-obsessed sonic doom.

The length of the project, of course, is its most eye-catching attribute, but the band uses the runtime to push their Master of Reality-nodding take on heavy rock to its absolute limit. Previous efforts, most notably Sleep’s Holy Mountain, were already filled with massive fuzz tones and sludgy tempos, but the riffs and song structures retained a surprising amount of energy. Dopesmoker, on the other hand, slows the tempos down even further, adds even more filth to their production, and forgoes punk/heavy metal vocals for half-chanted sorcery. From the opening stabs of distortion to the extended solos to the Pink Floyd-esque cooldown in the back half, the record is the sonic equivalent to a concrete mixer: methodically and endlessly churning away it’s sludgy contents.

Over the repetitious, slowly evolving backdrop, bassist/vocalist Al Cisneros abrasively moans of dropping “out of life with bong in hand.” Once sufficiently dropped, Cisneros, guitarist Matt Pike, and drummer Chris Hakius make their way across the desert in search of the promised land. They take the form of a mysterious “stoner caravan,” all the while worshiping the sweet leaf like a powerful ancient god. It’s stoner metal obsessed with stoner metal for the sake of stoner metal.

“Drop out of life with bong in hand/ Follow the smoke toward the riff-filled land,” Cisneros repeats. “Drop out of life with bong in hand/ Follow the smoke, Jerusalem.”

From a sober perspective, it’s verging on silly. The religious allusions, the dramatics, the time commitment — it can all seem a bit ridiculous. Drift into its world with a mellow mind and a body ready to shake from the subwoofer’s vibrations, though, and you might just ascend as the riffs take hold of your mortal senses.

Unfortunately, London Records decided against doing such a thing. But the project’s might was far too great for the structural integrity of whatever warehouse shelf it sat upon. The album was indeed eventually released.

As it stands today, there are several slightly different versions of the project. The earliest available copies, outside of a few rare London Record promotional CDs, came in the form of bootlegs (some authorized, some not) released from 1998-1999 under the name Jerusalem, as the band had begun calling it at the time. These copies feature a 57-minute runtime and break the composition into six untitled tracks. Then came Tee Pee Records’ 2003 edition, which reverted back to using the original title of Dopesmoker and restored the track to its full uninterrupted 63 minutes. Finally, there is Southern Lord’s now-ubiquitous 2012 edition of Dopesmoker, which brought with it the album’s now iconic cover art and reigns supreme as canon both within the pantheon of Sleep and the wider world of stoner/doom metal.

So, yeah, it’s an incredible feat of metal music… yada yada yada… has great story behind it… yada yada yada… important to its subculture… yada yada yada… members went on to be in Om and High on Fire… yada yada yada… Dopesmoker. Now, without further ado, let’s go to Jerusalem.

Entering Jerusalem (or, Dropping Out of Life with Bong in Hand: an Annotated Listen)

00:00 — Fuck yeah.

00:00 — Had to restart it because the intro is so good.

00:37 — UNNGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

01:36 — Yeah, I could probably listen to this riff forever.

3:55 — It is physically impossible for me to not air drum at the moment.

06:16 — I feel like I could break solid stone listening to this, and I’m not kidding.

07:40 — I’ll miss you, initial riff, like an old friend from school. Our time together was always destined to be limited, but how truly special it was. I look forward to seeing you again. Yours forever, J.

08:24 — DROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOPPPPPPPPPPP.

08:38 — Fuck yeah, man. Just… fuck yeah.

10:15 — I have dropped out of life, bong in hand. Where are we on this journey to Jerusalem? I almost don’t care. I’ll live in this windy desert for just a little longer.

12:10 — If my subwoofer was any bigger, I might throw up. I can feel my bones shaking.

12:47 — I, too, like Tony Iommi.

13:33 — It’s just so visceral, passes right through my ears and lands in my gut. It really sounds like being stoned. Or maybe the physicality of the distorted tones and pummeling drums just feels good to the high mind and body, like a sonic massage. Oh no, is this my version of ASMR?

14:32 — I wonder if this is how Deadheads feel when Jerry would rip a solo, just pure excitement. Except Garcia wasn’t fucking SPLITTING EARDRUMS AND SUMMONING HOLY SPIRITS THROUGH SMOKE. (Sorry, Deadheads, I respect you. I’m just excited about Dopesmoker at the moment.)

15:44 — Can’t tell if time is moving slower or faster. It simultaneously feels like I’ve always been listening to this song, but also like it just started. When I look at the clock, it laughs back in my face, or whatever Billie Joe Armstrong said.

16:32 — Man, these transitions are dope.

17:52 — I should get like six Marshall stacks. Maybe seven. Hey, Marshall, send me some stacks so I can be as loud as Pike!

18:39 — You see things listening to this record. You really do.

19:00 — If anything, I wish they left the feedback going even longer. Let me bathe in overtones and the sounds we aren’t supposed to like.

19:40 — I bet I could yell loud enough to be heard by someone. Nobody’s home, but if I let out the guttural scream this awakens in me, someone would hear it.

23:59 — This is the dopest shit of all time. Every time this dude comes back in, it’s just the dopest shit I’ve ever heard in my life. I want to high five somebody.

24:37 — Y’all ever just write a riff that literally doesn’t get old after 25 minutes?

26:36 — The dropping out of the drums and bass, only for them to return, shouldn’t keep working on me — but it really does. It’s exciting every time.

27:49 — LET’S FUCKING GOOOO.

30:50 — Sorry, kind of zoned out there for a second. No analysis, just vibes. Sitting here, mouth open, no thoughts (or maybe all thoughts, I can’t tell), feeling the smoke of dope and the dopeness of smoke.

32:02 — I wonder if I could get my voice to do that.

33:40 — Man, I hope this ‘get high and listen’ thing was a good idea.

34:30 — It’s just that it lulls you in doesn’t let go once you’re there. I referenced a concrete mixer earlier, and not to pat myself on the back, but it’s pretty apt.

*We interrupt this note to commend the awesome fucking drum beat going on at the moment. It churns and churns and churns.

34:30 — I am that thick, goopy, grey sludge getting endlessly mixed by Sleep’s riffage.

36:07 — Bass solo, and for once that’s a good thing! (Bassist, I kid, I love you.)

36:52 — Isn’t it cute that musicians “trade” solos? Like, good for you, you learned how to share. Nice job, pookie.

39:34 — This solo would probably kill a Victorian child if such a person was exposed to it. Thank god we don’t have to worry about that.

40:55 — I get that the length is daunting, but you don’t get the utter satisfaction of building up to moments like this any other way. This part rocks even harder because of the path it took to get here. I don’t know man, if you get it you get it.

42:26 — The room tone and reverb they threw on the shuffling drum beat here is so cool. Googling how to get that tone as soon as this is over.

45:20 — It’s dizzying. It’s epic. You feel the odyssey they’re on, the scope of the journey they’ve undertaken. The cover art for the Southern Lord edition is spot on. The other two are cool, but the desert landscape and “weedians” are translated 1:1 from the song. Makes me want to join them.

46:23 — Holy shit, these Sour Patch Kids are fucking awesome.

47:11 — Every time the bass does a little melodic lick, I get so excited.

50:17 — Something is buried in the mix. Clashing? Clinging? Maybe the reverb from the cymbals? Currently hyper-fixating on it.

52:26 — The whole London Records thing sucks, of course, but it is kinda cool that this thing rocked so hard those nerds couldn’t handle it. Yeah, I said it, Y’ALL WERE NERDS.

54:52 — I’m almost getting anxious for it to end. I like living in this space. My head feels remarkably clear. There’s also something admittedly nice about having one thing on for so long. It’s a constant that becomes familiar and comfortable, especially since it’s never boring. No more decisions needed for 1/24 of your day.

56:49 — I know the religious aspect of it all is a little silly, but when you’re high and in this world, it just kinda makes sense. The physical reaction that I’ve referenced feels spiritual. It’s just music and some grass, but it’s so deep inside my chest that it feels like more. And I’m sure I’ll read this back when I’m sober and laugh at myself, but for now, here I am.

59:16 — I wonder if there is a scientific reason I instinctively touch my face when I’m high?

1:00:00 — Hour mark, there it is.

1:01:13 — I should do this again in a group setting.

1:03:25 — And just like that, it fades away… Anyone else want Wendy’s?

Sleep’s Dopesmoker — A Sober (and Not-So Sober) Analysis: ’99 Rewind
Jonah Krueger

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