“We do a three-or-four-minute drone before we start this one song, so we’re building up to come in on this thunderous chord. Right when we hit the chord, though, the power goes out,” he explains through a laugh, adding that the act caused a second brown-out just moments later … with the very same song. “Somebody probably should have drawn straws and left the stage, taking a few pedals with them. But no, that wouldn’t happen. We can’t part with our pedals, can we?”

When all goes according to plan, Witch’s Familiar songs like “Prism of the Night” torrent through lavender peels of tape echo and overdrive, sinewave-splitting synth drones, and hypnotically-hammered drum work. It’s a different vibe than Rogers’ previous output as a solo performer, a more folk-centred approach dating back to the early ‘00s. He explains that Ghostmeat materialized as he was writing new music in the wake of his 2019 solo release, Wildfire. When the tunes became jammier in nature, he ended up rebuilding a band for a show on his friend’s farm, this including his brother Luke Rogers on synths. Impressed by the heady experiment, and following a few lineup tweaks, Ghostmeat now finds the Rogers brothers joined by lead guitarist David Rogers (no relation), vocalist-guitarist Tome Jozic, bassist Pete Schmidt, and drummer Aaron Klassen.

While there’s an inherent brotherly bond between Ben and Luke, the former was keenly aware of the deep, decades-long kinship the latter also had with Jozic and David Rogers, the trio having previously worked together in projects including high-wire post-hardcore experimentalists Raking Bombs and globalist beat-scapers Basketball. “I came in almost as an outsider, even though Luke is my brother and they’re all my best friends,” Ben says of the dynamic. “I’m the younger brother. I was always going to shows with them when I was still too young to really be there. So, they really nurtured me in that realm of music.”

Within the collaborative framework of Ghostmeat, Ben not only broadened his sonic horizons but his way of singing. Sometimes he harmonizes seamlessly with the ethereal lilt of co-vocalist Jozic. But on spiritual EP centrepiece “Kisse Manitou Mayo,” a newly ragged, raspy magnetism rattles from his vocal cords, a physical feat that pushed Rogers well past his usual breaking point. “Going through the folk thing and really admiring singers like Dylan — people who aren’t pitch perfect — maybe I refined it a little too much [for the solo records],” he suggests, adding of his wilder cries, “It was time to throw it in the garburator and see what came out.”