Posted in Whathaveyou on April 25th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
This tour marks the second time in the last year that South African heavy rockers Ruff Majik have hit Europe for shows. I was lucky enough to see them at SonicBlast Fest 2023 (review here) in Portugal last August, and they were set to be back on the continent for a Fall run alongside heavy riffing Israeli party-in-a-can trio The Great Machine before war — as it apparently will unceasingly until we’ve finally eradicated our own species, no doubt to the planet’s general benefit — broke out. Thus ‘the second coming’ on the poster below, which also serves as a lyrical reference to the moment where the title-track of their 2023 album, Elektrik Ram (review here), turns downerism into a willful triumph.
I was doing a bit of travel myself last week and as I have everywhere I’ve gone for well over a year now — admittedly easier to do in the digital age — I brought that record along for the journey. No, I’m still not quite over it, even as the four-piece have threatened multiple outings to follow this and perhaps more realistically next year. As Elektrik Ram so deftly paired stylistic scope with pinpoint efficiency in its songwriting across a succession of memorable, varied tracks, I’ll go ahead and count their next anything among my most anticipated whatevers of whenever. Screw you, I’m allowed to have favorites.
The tour below finds them meeting up with desert rock pioneer/ambassador Brant Bjork, as well as Monkey3, Siena Root and others, along with appearances at Esbjerg Fuzztival in Denmark, Desertfest Berlin 2024 and, the first of them, Gockelscream in Dresden, which as I understand it is somewhere between a heavyfest and a birthday party. Either way, sounds like a rad time.
From socials:
Here it is folks, our wildest tour announcement to date!
We’re hitting Gockelscream, Desertfest Berlin and Esbjerg Fuzztival!
More surprises in store too, with four more dates left to fill up!
All this brought to you by the good folks at @soundofliberation !
When Los Angeles-based ’90s-style stoner grit rockers Max Boogie Overdrivepremiered their video here for the catchy single “Suffer Sister,” their debut album, Stoned Again, was a ‘coming soon’ kind of affair. That was a full year ago as of this week — fun coincidence — and indeed, the shove-prone 38-minute eight-track groover had a 2023 soft-launch, but the official release was at the end of March, and it remains firm in its declaration of purpose regardless of the timing.
The four-piece of guitarists Jim “Max Boogie” Bacchi and Richard “RC” Clark, vocalist/bassist Daren “Drop Dee” Ford and drummer Tom “Knuckles” Hernandez dig into older-school heavy riffing throughout, touch on a bit of metal gallop behind the solo, as in “Freakazoid,” for an example, and offer hooks a-plenty across the span, riding choice grooves on the C.O.C.-style “Van Boogie” and finding a space for an almost garage-style feel on “Demonaire” before the penultimate “King of Fire” lands with one of the record’s heaviest thuds, moving all the more effectively for the push-pull and subtle shifts in style around its central dirty-fuzz revelry.
Stoned Again caps with its title-track (video premiering below), which starts with a sample of former US president Barack Obama saying that, yes, he did inhale, and as regards mission statements, they’re not trying to hide what they’re all about. It’s right there in the first verse, “High like a mountain/I’m cool like the sea,” and the nigh-on-hypnotic chorus that follows to deliver the title line before they take off on a coursing lead-topped bridge, take another hit off that hook and slow it down.
Of course the cowbell comes out, and as with a lot of Stoned Again, “Stoned Again” is rife with if-you-know-you-know lyrical references — one might shout out a Monster Magnet influence for that alone, never mind the infinity-bound dope nod of “Freakazoid” — but namedropping Rainbow Rising over the steady nod that serves as the launch point for the record’s noisy finish is a hint at some of the ’70s-whatnottery also present in the hard-footed strut of “Bomb Incoming,” but despite the striking statistic that the album was recorded in five separate studios with five separate engineers, it never seems to be headed somewhere without an idea of the destination and path being taken. Songwriting, in other words, as well as a goodly dose of stonerly charm.
And I’m on record multiple times over as being a sucker for both. I don’t think Max Boogie Overdrive are out to rewrite the tenets of heavy rock on Stoned Again so much as to celebrate them and remind any and all within earshot that the whole point of the thing in the first place was to have a good time. They veer hither and yon, desert-bound in “Demonaire,” jammy in the rush later in “Freakazoid,” leaning into psych in that wash of “Stoned Again” and elsewhere, but like a West Coast Geezer, they know what they’re about and offer it without pretense otherwise.
If you see any of that and think maybe you can get down, the full album is streaming after the PR wire info, and if you want a quicker sampling, the title-track clip is nothing if not representative. It’s okay to have fun with it. They sure seem to be.
Enjoy:
Max Boogie Overdrive, “Stoned Again” video premiere
Max Boogie Overdrive was originally conceived in 2022, as a recording project between guitarist Max Boogie a.k.a. Jim Bacchi (Hittman, Fuzzbubble, The Tikiyaki Orchestra) and Drop Dee a.k.a. Daren Ford (Red Square Black, Ravine and the Generals) as a way to pursue their passion for all things Stoner and Boogie… mammoth guitar riffs, bellowing vocals, and the swagger of early 70’s Detroit rock n’ roll — dirty, fuzzy, with just a dusting of doom, and whole lotta Boogie (not Disco; Heavy Boogie Rock).
The debut album ‘Stoned Again’ includes the first single “Suffer Sister,” which offers up a dirty Motörhead vibe. Other songs “The Devil Knows my Name” and “Van Boogie” conjure the spirit of the more current Sabbath-influenced desert rock scene. And then there is the KISS thing — you know, those early records, when they were heavy. “Demonaire” and “Bomb Incoming” bring the Demon to mind (when Gene Simmons was still cool).
The cyclonic drumming of Tom ‘Knuckles’ Hernandez (Lords of Altamont, Superbeez) propels the band past the sludge and doom pace, and guitarist Richard ‘RC’ Clark’s guitar adds the necessary beef to the mix, fattening up the tone, and added vocal duties.
Produced by : Jim Bacchi and Daren Ford Mixed by Jim Bacchi, except “Suffer Sister” mixed by Bob St John
Recorded at : Kingsize Sound Labs – Los Angeles, CA Unison Sound – Northridge, CA Le Studio – Huntington Beach, CA Highland Studios, LaSalle, Ontario PDQ – Ft Lauderdale FL. Cover art – Big Toe
Engineers : David Dominguez, Bruce Witkin, Jim Bacchi, Bob St John, Mike Christie, Luc Michaud
Mastered at : Surfside Sound – Huntington Beach, CA
MAX BOOGIE OVERDRIVE LIVE 2024: 05/04 Las Vegas, NV – Red Dwarf 05/17 Costa Mesa, CA – Wayfarer (w/ Hippie Death Cult, Hashtronaut) 06/20 Palmdale, CA – Transplant Brewery
Max Boogie Overdrive are: Lead/Rhythm Guitar: Max Boogie (aka Jim Bacchi) Vocals and Bass: Daren (Drop Dee) Ford Drums: Tom (Knuckles) Hernandez Rhythm/Lead Guitar: Richard Clark
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 24th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Fresh off their month-long stint in March and April supporting The Obsessed, Boston heavy soul pushers Gozu last week unveiled the thus-far confirmed European dates leading up to their appearance at Hellfest in France this June, and wouldn’t you know, before I even managed to get that posted here, they followed up this week by announcing they’ll join Baroness and Poison Ruin for the East Coast and Midwestern portion of their own summer tour before they go abroad. Hot damn, is the bottom line.
Gozu are no strangers to time on the road — they were last in Europe in 2022 by my count, but don’t quote me on that — but they do seem to have hit it with marked purpose since releasing their stunner of a fifth long-player, Remedy (review here) last Spring, and with no shortage of cause to do so in the intensity of that collection. So much the better for them to head over again, and of course, if you’re in a position to help them with the open slots listed below, I encourage you do do so both as part of a general ethic of supporting underground bands on the tour, and because it’s the kind of gig you’ll be proud to have been a part of afterward.
And as a word to the wise, they’re very likely not done. They’ve already been confirmed for Desertfest New York (Sept. 12-14) and Ripplefest Texas (Sept. 19-22), Louder Than Life in Kentucky (Sept. 26-29) and Aftershock in Sacramento, CA (Oct. 10-13). Don’t be surprised if and when a tour comes to cover at least part of the travel in that stretch. Did I already mention “hot damn?”
I may not get to a ton of shows these days, and I had pangs missing the NYC date that capped the tour they just ended, but it warms my heart to see these guys getting out and putting their music in people’s faces where it belongs.
The below is cobbled together from Heavy Psych Sounds (their Euro booker) on the PR wire, Gozu‘s social media, and Baroness‘ website:
Hey all, we are stoked to announce that our US heavy rockers GOZU will tour Europe this Summer !!!
STILL FEW OPEN SLOTS
BOOK YOUR SHOW – WRITE TO: info@heavypsychsounds.com
GOZU Euro Tour 2024 TU. 18.06.24 IT BOLOGNA FREAKOUT WE. 19.06.24 IT VERONA FINE DI MONDO TH. 20.06.24 AT KUFSTEIN KULTURFABRIK FR. 21.06.24 DE MÜNSTER RARE GUITAR SA. 22.06.24 ***OPEN SLOT*** SU. 23.06.24 ***OPEN SLOT*** MO. 24.06.24 ***OPEN SLOT*** TU. 25.06.24 FR CHAMBERY BRIN DE ZINC WE. 26.06.24 FR ***OPEN SLOT*** TH. 27.06.24 FR ***OPEN SLOT*** FR. 28.06.24 FR CLISSON HELLFEST
Something wicked this way comes!!
GOZU w/ BARONESS & POISON RUIN: May 31 | Portland, ME | State Theatre Jun 01 | Norwalk, CT | District Music Hall Jun 02 | Rochester, NY | Essex Jun 04 | Grand Rapids, MI | Pyramid Scheme Jun 05 | Indianapolis, IN | The Vogue Jun 07 | Madison, WI | Majestic Theatre Jun 08 | Palatine, IL | Durty Nellie’s Jun 09 | Chicago, IL | House of Blues Jun 10 | Des Moines, IA | Wooly’s
GOZU is: Marc Gaffney – guitar and vocals Joe Grotto – bass Doug Sherman – lead guitar Seth Botos – drums
New York’s Geezer and Genoa, Italy’s Isaak are set to issue their split LP, Interstellar Cosmic Blues & The Riffalicious Stoner Dudes, on May 17. As labelmates on Heavy Psych Sounds, they are united in dedication to groove and weighted tones, and they’re certainly both acts you’d call ‘heavy,’ but from one side of the platter to the other, there’s no question they each stand on their own as well.
Geezer open side A with “Acid Veins” (lyric video premiering below) as one the first of four characteristically grooving inclusions. It and the capping “Oneirophrenia” were recorded with David Andersen at The Artfarm, while the middle two, “Little Voices” and “Mercury Rising,” were tracked during the sessions for the band’s most recent album, 2022’s Stoned Blues Machine (review here), which were helmed by Chris Bittner at Applehead Recording in Woodstock, NY, near the band’s hometown of Kingston. I’m not sure when “Acid Veins” and “Oneirophrenia” were tracked, but they fit well in bookending the Interstellar Cosmic Blues portion of this split, with “Acid Veins” sweeping in on a quick rush of noise and digging almost immediately into its verse riff in an easy nod and swing from guitarist/vocalist Pat Harrington, bassist Richie Touseull and drummer Steve Markota that holds for the duration through the first of their four choice hooks and into the fuzz-drenched twister solo section that carries them out in classic stoner rock style.
Perhaps in comparison to Isaak, whose stated purpose here is to branch out in sound and personnel alike (give me a minute, we’ll get there), Geezer‘s four cuts might not come off as outwardly pushing boundaries in the same way, but in “Acid Veins,” “Little Voices,” which might be about depression or might be about having kids — take your pick; either way, “sometimes it gets dark” — and “Mercury Rising” they bring to emphasis the more straight-ahead songwriting that on their albums has done so much to complement and sometimes ground their jammier and more psychedelic material.
“Mercury Rising” is a little longer and starts out with a mellow jam for its first minute-plus, but picks up from there around a rolling riff and verse/chorus trades. It’s a hook I remembered instantly from being in the studio when Stoned Blues Machine‘s basic tracks were put down, and it’s a highlight here as well. Rounding out, “Oneirophrenia” — the title in reference to the semi-hallucinatory dream-state between being awake and asleep; you know, brain stuff — grows insistent in its shove as it moves through its halfway point, but closes Geezer‘s stretch with a condensed exploration of low-key spacey vibing, giving some representation to the reach that might show up near the end of an LP. Hypnotic by the end of its six minutes, it’s the proverbial ‘big finish’ perfectly scaled-down to suit the context in which it arrives. Sometimes a song just finds its place. That happens four times on the first half of Interstellar Cosmic Blues & The Riffalicious Stoner Dudes.
The plot thickens with the start of Isaak‘s “The Whale,” as the core four-piece of the band — vocalist Giacomo Boeddu, guitarist Francesco Raimondi, bassist Gabriele Carta and drummer Davide Foccis — waste not a second of their circa-15-minutes and transfigure the crunch of a song like “OBG” from last year’s Hey (review here) long-player onto a careening gallop that, particularly with the bellow that tops it, feels more born of the Baroness school of riffing. Welcoming the first of three guests in Fabio Cuomo (Gotho, Liquido di Morte), they calm it down somewhat momentarily in the bridge before building up to a charged finish, but are very obviously working to expand the perception of the band as The Riffalicious Stoner Dudes, and both “Crisis” and “Flat Earth” follow suit in methodology and the shirking of expectation.
As to how recent Isaak‘s tracks are, I don’t know that either, but as vocalist Fabio Palombi (Burn the Ocean, Nerve) joins in for “Crisis” and Ufomammut drummer Alessandro “Levre” Levrero guests on “Flat Earth,” they both help the cause. “Crisis” sets out on an initially angular course of riffing before settling into the verse with Foccis on the bell of the ride, Mastodonic in thickness of tone in a way that feels not so far removed from what Hey wrought and daring a bit of shuffle in its chorus. The twist comes with the departure first into acoustic-inclusive heavy, almost-folkish push before they surge forward with the post-hardcore shouts of Palombi overtop, which give an intensity that Isaak answer by shifting back to the verse and chorus to round out. The sense of their trying new ideas, branching out in terms of sound, is palpable, but they’ve neither dropped their lead-with-riffs modus or the momentum of “The Whale” just before, and as Boeddu‘s own vocals have always had a bit of burl to them and certainly do here as well, it’s not too much of a leap to Palombi‘s part that it derails the song. It works, in other words.
They crash into the start of “Flat Earth” and set out across the split’s final track with a marked tension in the guitar. The pace isn’t quite as thrust-minded as “The Whale,” but the first of Isaak‘s three songs still affects the momentum of the last, and while they’re a bit more in line with what they’ve done before, when the chorus hits, what in many contexts would be a desert rock riff takes on a new persona and energy. It is both a blast and wall-‘o-tone heavy; the snare punctuating turns in the guitar and bass at the end of bellowing measures. Right at three minutes in, the guitar solo starts and the rhythmic pattern follows, but they’re back in the chorus soon enough and build from there into the ending section — which I’m pretty sure is where Levrero joins Boeddu — which both answers back to Geezer‘s ceremonious closeout and underscores the vibrancy behind the surprises from The Riffalicious Stoner Dudes, who just might need to add a ‘+’ to their side B descriptor.
The bottom line for Interstellar Cosmic Blues & The Riffalicious Stoner Dudesas a whole is quality work from established acts each with their own chemistry and intent for the release. They are nowhere near close enough in style to be competing with each other, but if you put one on loud, certainly the next will benefit from that same volume. Kind of a no-brainer for those who know the bands, maybe, and for those who don’t — that’s not a judgment on my part, ever; I’m not talking down to anyone — in Geezer‘s display of craft and Isaak‘s willful progression of style, they both play to strengths in an engaging summary of what they do. Yeah, the split’s got a long title, but hell, it also covers a lot of ground.
Enjoy “Acid Veins” below, followed by more info from the PR wire:
ACID VEINS is the third GEEZER single taken from the split album Interstellar Cosmic Blues & The Riffalicious Stoner Dudes. The release features Geezer and Isaak and will see the light on May 17th via Heavy Psych Sounds.
SAYS THE BAND: “Acid Veins is about life on the road. The good, the bad and the ugly side of touring in an underground rock band. While it is (in many ways) the best experience in the world, it ain’t for the faint of heart and it sure as hell ain’t always fun and games. We love what we do and we don’t take anything for granted. This one’s for the road dogs, for the lifers. Much love and safe travels!”
TRACKLIST SIDE A Acid Veins (Geezer) Little Voices (Geezer) Mercury Rising (Geezer) Oneirophrenia (Geezer)
SIDE B The Whale (Isaak feat Fabio Cuomo from Gotho & Liquido di Morte) Crisis (Isaak feat. Fabio Palombi from Nerve & Burn the Ocean) Flat Earth (Isaak feat. Levre from Ufomammut)
GEEZER are: Pat Harrington – vocals/guitar Richie Touseull – bass Steve Markota – drums
ISAAK is Giacomo Boeddu – vocals Francesco Raimondi – guitars Gabriele Carta – bass Davide Foccis – drums
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 24th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Not the kind of announcement you expect to see on a given morning, but founding drummer Robby Staebler has announced his departure from Nashville’s All Them Witches. What you see in blue text below was sent out in an update to Bandcamp followers, and it comes as the four-piece are (were?) set to begin a tour through the southeastern US following their appearance this weekend at Austin Psych Fest. Comprised until today of Staebler, bassist/vocalist Charles Michael Parks, Jr., guitarist Ben McLeod and Rhodes pianist/violinist/keyboardist Allan Van Cleave, the band also have European shows ahead of them this summer, including a stop at Hellfest in France and other festivals besides. I have no idea what the status is of any of those shows, and the best I can tell you is to keep an eye on the band’s social media, which is where any further update is likely to come from.
Staebler, with a restless energy on stage that gave movement to even the band’s most minimalist moments, brought fluid energy and expansive creativity to All Them Witches across their six to-date full-lengths — the latest, 2020’s Nothing as the Ideal (review here), featured drones and tape loops that as I understood it were in no small part his contribution — and non-LP releases like the Baker’s Dozen singles series (posted here) that carried them through the end of the pandemic on 2022 en route to a 2023 spent mostly on the road for whole-album performances and other shows. Since Van Cleave rejoined in 2021 after quitting the band following 2017’s Sleeping Through the War (review here), they’ve wanted nothing for momentum. I guess maybe when you’re done you’re done.
But in addition to drumming and other sundry noisemaking, Staebler has also served as the primary visual artist for All Them Witches since their inception. And like his playing, his painting style is not something that will be easily replaced. I have no info on what his departure means for All Them Witches as regards the dates in the two posters below — maybe he’ll play them and leave after, for all I know — but Staebler will continue with the experimental audio/visual project Uvways, as he says below, and if All Them Witches do keep going, there’s no question any new player brought in will be a marked change in dynamic.
My best to Staebler and to Parks, McLeod and Van Cleave, whatever the future brings. If I hear more I’ll post it:
[UPDATE April 24: Guitarist Ben McCleod posted the following in the band’s Facebook group a short time ago:
Hello everyone. ATW will be making an official post later today, however I wanted everyone to know the shows are not canceled. We have a replacement drummer for the time being and will be fulfilling all these shows.
Thank you for your patience and understanding. We will see you soon.
Best of luck to Robby and his future endeavors. He has been an asset to this band and he will be missed.
-Ben
The band followed up with a collective statement, specifically addressing the coming shows and their plans going forward:
So there you go. Staebler‘s original announcement and All Them Witches‘ tour dates still follow below, but it’s encouraging to have some clarity and to know that the band will keep going.]
ALL THEM WITCHES FANS All good things must come to an end. At this time I’ve decided to step back from ATW and put my energy into other music and projects that I love. Thanks to everyone who has supported me and the band I created and labored over. The fans have made my dreams comes true in every way and I’m extremely grateful for you all. I put every ounce of energy and resources I had towards building something truly unique and honest that I could stand behind. Moving forward I feel it’s important to follow my intuition and inspiration. I’ll be releasing two new albums this year under UVWAYS with faces you know and some you don’t. If you want to follow what I’m doing I set up a Patreon where I’ll be doing everything from drum videos to live chats as well as monthly art and merch deliveries. Check out patreon.com/UVWAYS, visit www.uvways.com for paintings and prints. Follow @uultrasoundss for new music and @ultraafree for my merch company that promotes unity and freedom in the tune of rock and roll. The world is a vampire. Stay awake.
Posted in Features, Reviews on April 22nd, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Before any of the actual sets, today started with the annual tradition of a sit-down audience with Roadburn’s Artistic Director, Walter Hoeijmakers, hosted by Becky Laverty, who not only puts the side-programme together, but has been a crucial part of pushing the festival forward stylistically and defining its ongoing mission. Mostly a Q&A from the people who crammed into the V39, where merch used to be, they covered a range of topics from the logistics of setting up the time table to why they’ve moved away from having curators like in years past. No, they didn’t say anything about who will play in 2025, but one assumes that will come in time.
I had a question I wanted to ask about the next generation of Roadburn taking shape in the last few years of lineups and where they see it all leading, but they sort of touched on it and since there was only an hour, I was in the back, etc., etc., I just let it go. But, a casual chat, and always interesting to get their insights on this weirdo behemoth that Roadburn has become.
Once upon a however many years ago, the last day of Roadburn was known as the Afterburner. They’ve dropped the branding — fair enough — but there are still fewer active stages today, some longer changeovers between acts on the main stage, and so on. A mellower vibe, perhaps, was taking hold, but plenty of anticipation in the air around the 013, that electric undercurrent running through. My trajectory was loose but there was plenty I knew I wanted to see, and felt a little less in-my-own-head than the day before. Hard not to be inspired though coming out of hearing Walter and Becky chat about the passion and care that goes into making Roadburn, top to bottom.
—
Secret shows announced for The Keening (at Little Devil, won’t make it; sadder because they’re playing a new song), Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers (skate park, 19.00, hope to make it) and Torpor (skate park, 21.40, would be awesome), but to start out, I headed into Next Stage to watch a few minutes of Belgian trio Use Knife. I’d been tasked with writing a small blurb about them previously and after taking a listen decided it was something I was interested in seeing myself. I guess I sold myself on it. Happens sometimes.
They touched on old-school industrial and techno throb, put together around Middle Eastern melodies and instrumentation and of course mountains of keyboards and programmed whathaveyou. They played behind three white sheets onto which varyingly manic projections were cast. I had sat on the floor to start writing and ask my wife for a picture of our daughter — got one, it was nice — and when I looked up, the room was full. It was somewhat of a later start today on the main stage with the Die Wilde Jagd & Metropole Orkest commissioned piece ‘Lux Tenera: A Rite to Joy,’ perhaps because of the need to set up a full 50-piece orchestra on the stage. Either way, Use Knife didn’t seem displeased from what I could see behind the sheets.
Metropole Orkest has had representation at Roadburn before — alongside Tom G. Warrior and Triptykon in 2019 (review here) — but the collaboration with Sebastian Lee Philipp of Die Wilde Jagd brought a full 50 players to the stage, so it was both bigger and presented in a different context. Ambitious, to say the least of it. Over the course of an hour, the piece evolved over several sections or movements, with conductor/arranger Simon Dobson leading as Philipp worked various synthesizer elements seated at a table or stood for a bit of ‘more traditional’ — which is only in quotes because classical music is actually more traditional — guitar and vocals.
Aside from the stunning visual impact of so many players on the stage and the huge drums flanking each side, the tiers for the chaired strings, brass, winds, and such, getting the notice to check in for my flight home tomorrow helped me put a few things into perspective, most specifically how fortunate I am to be here in the first place. Yeah, you might just see a thing that happens once, never again, and which is so fulfilling to the creator that the first thing he says on mic is that he can die happy having been a part of it. Could happen.
But even that’s only just a fraction of the thing, and true to the cliché, Roadburn is more than the sum of the sets that comprise it. They didn’t have to invite me. They don’t need me here now, and the truth is they never did, even in 2009 the first year I came. It wasn’t the first time this (long-) weekend that such a thing occurred to me, and I doubt it will be the last, but ‘Lux Tenera,’ in its subdued contemplations and moments of legit bombast, made me glad to feel alive. The value of that, I cannot hope to tell you. All I can do is to try to hold onto it for as long as possible, because I know in my heart that being here to experience it might not come again.
Dinner! I had dinner! The changeover between the commissioned piece and Grails afforded me time to go downstairs and have some food, sit down like the people do. There was cauliflower, even. I had that and greens and a bit of beef rendang for protein. When I’m not too dead on my feet to hold my head up at the end of the night, I have no doubt that will have been a factor in it.
Eating didn’t keep me from Grails, but I knew I wasn’t going to be staying all that long. Not lacking appreciation for the vast expanses of Emil Amos’ consistently-pushed creative reach, but there was that Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers secret show happening and I didn’t want to miss getting in to the skate park for it. About the decision, I’ll say this: ‘who haven’t I seen?’ has always been my first question for Roadburn time clashes. In this case, that meant heading up the street early. The doors weren’t open yet when I got there, and it’s been chilly in Tilburg, but I was toward the front of a line that grew exponentially shortly after I joined, and a not-freezing wind was a small thing next to the fiery heavy boogie wrought by the Belgian six-piece. The second two-drummer outfit I’ve seen this weekend — bonus points on whatever imaginary score is being kept for one of Mojo’s singing — along with three guitars and a bass warm enough that it didn’t need more low end to keep it company.
They started about two minutes after people started to be let in, and what a blast. And like Heath, who I mention not as a sonic comparison — though if the 1970s are a genre, you could argue they’re both at least somewhat on branches of it — but just because they’re the other secret show I’ve seen, they were young. A clear look at the next generation’s take on the heavy of yore, but with a modern dynamic that didn’t ignore the five decades between then and now. With a bit of riff worship, an insistent shuffle, and an energy in their delivery that could not be faked, they swept up the skate park crowd and had people dancing on the ramps. It was fun, and as Roadburn has continued to grow beyond its foundations and, as the tagline says, ‘Redefine Heaviness,’ it’s encouraging to see them make room for a band like Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers too. I knew I was making a bet leaving Grails, but the payoff was easy justification. They can redefine heaviness all they want, Roadburn will always mean hard choices.
I took some pictures, but mostly just let myself hang around and enjoy it, which was why I was there. I had moved up to the balcony by the end — I’m iffy in crowds, and couldn’t see from anywhere else, really — but I watched the whole set and left the building a fan of the band, which for the first time seeing a group play is the ideal as far as I’m concerned.
The Jesus and Mary Chain‘s headlining set has been a ‘well duh’ kind of answer to the question of who people are looking forward to seeing since Wednesday, or to be more accurate, since they were announced. I was in high school when they were big in the ’90s, and while I could probably retire on the Gen-X cred that having seen them live afforded me and everybody in the room — that’s how retirement happens, right? — I was in no way rad enough to have been into them at the time. But aside from being Important in the capital-‘i’ critical sense and an obvious influence on any number of the acts on this bill, including Cloakroom, who were tasked with closing the main stage after them, they had more going on than established stage presence, colored strobes and a back catalog, and the room was accordingly full.
The reason I didn’t get (more) pictures was because they had a rule where you could only stand in a taped-off rectangle to shoot the set. It was my first time encountering such a thing since Queens of the Stone Age in Boston in 2013, and I wasn’t a fan of it then either, but it’s their show so fair enough. Compare that to the guitarist from Mojo and the Kitchen Brothers climbing up on the barrier — which I think is usually a grind rail but served well to separate band and audience for the secret shows — about three feet in front of my face to tear into an early solo, or, say, everyone else playing this weekend. Just two experiences to put side by side.
My original plan had been to watch as much of The Jesus and Mary Chain as possible before The Bevis Frond went on the Next Stage. I think they’re the only band here who can say they played the first Roadburn in 2006, which isn’t nothing, and their sometimes heavy, sometimes spacy, sometimes jammy, sometimes poppy, sometimes psychedelic rock has always held an interest, so given the chance, it seemed like an logical place to end my Roadburn. They went on at 21.20 and were given a 70-minute set, so plenty of time to dig in, but they were already on when I got there, as Freeburn-wheeled up to the skate park to see what the deal was for Torpor. The deal was a line out the door (not open yet) that wrapped around the building and I knew that what I’d first intended had been the thing all along. The Bevis Frond welcomed me — no, not personally; existentially — with friendly vibes and a spirit of fun that went beyond the tunes they played, “Stoned Train Driver” among them.
There was room to breathe on the balcony, and so that’s where I stayed for the duration. I’d missed maybe the first 20 minutes, but they made it a pleasure to stick around until the end, and it felt in watching them like the show meant something special to them, particularly to founding guitarist/vocalist Nick Saloman. Even after being told they only had six minutes — it turned out to be 15 — his response was “Let’s make the most of it.”
And they did, covering The Open Mind’s 1969 single “Magic Potion” with due garage-psych flair and shouting “I’ve Got Eyes in the Back of My Head” from 1987’s Inner Marshland out to Rolf and Jeanette from Stickman Records. It was right on, a happening to-do. The guys from Full Earth/Kanaan were there, as was Stephen Smith from Virginia and a host of other recognizable faces, including the dude with the soul patch I know only as Capt. Stoner Rock, to whom I’ve never spoken but have seen at every loosely-riff-following set I’ve ever been to at this festival — he had a Hippie Death Cult shirt on the other night and I almost snuck a picture to send to their guitarist Eddie Brnabic with an explanation of why he should be so honored; nothing but sincere respect for Capt. Stoner Rock — and people danced and smiled and the band seemed to have a good time and so did everyone in the crowd, myself included.
That was the note on which I wanted to end my Roadburn, so I did’ No disrespect to Cloakroom, who certainly gave me no reason not to show up when I saw them in 2022, but after The Bevis Frond, I knew I was done. A scheduled 9AM departure for Schiphol ahead of me, it was time, which I realized with no shortage of wistfulness as I walked back to the hotel.
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I’ll hope to have more tomorrow from the airport, but in case for some reason I don’t end up with time or, more likely, energy, I want to express my thanks to Roadburn Festival for having me over, for making me feel welcome. Thank you Walter & Esther, Becky, Jaimy, Renske, Koos, Rian, Miranda at 013 and the multitudes of Roadburn crew whose professionalism continually astonishes. Thanks to Lee Edwards for putting up with me in sharing a room, Dante, Niels, Paul, Marco and all in the photo pit, and to everyone I talked to over the last few days. Thank you to The Patient Mrs., who made this entire trip possible the same way she makes everything possible, by being the least-fathomable human being I’ve ever met, and to my mother, who took The Patient Mrs. and The Pecan out for ice cream while I was gone, which I have no doubt was a welcome diversion, and whose support I treasure to the core of my being every single day of my life.
Madness ensued and I am grateful to have been able to find a path through it. Thank you, Roadburn, and thank you for reading. I’m fully Roadburnt at this point, but this has been amazing.
Posted in Features, Reviews on April 21st, 2024 by JJ Koczan
In what I hope will be a defining moment of my day if not the rest of my year, I was sitting with Lee downstairs at the 013 for lunch — some greens and cheese; likewise simple and necessary — and I could feel my brain start to move to what I needed to be doing, some quick writing, starting this post, whatever. But I stopped. I reminded myself, out fucking loud, that I had the time to stay. And so I stayed.
That sounds like an small thing, and maybe it was when set against what the day would bring front to back. And I’m not gonna sit here and try to do some middle-aged-dude wellness philosophy here — neither the place nor the time, and frankly I can’t stand that shit you see on social media, vacuous endorsement of a capitalist idea of how to live; fodder for the tshirts they sell at Target — but as this homecoming has been emotional for me, I’m working not to run away from that.
I got through the writing, the minimal actual amount there was, and got to where I wanted to be well in time for when I wanted to be there. Go figure. Place in time.
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Roadburn Saturday. Couch Slut on first at The Terminal, diving deep into avant sludge, noise, hardcore, grindcore and some spoken word over piano — Steve Blanco from Imperial Triumphant guesting — and trumpet, no less purposeful in the light jazz than the most slaughtering parts as they brought the released-yesterday You Could Do it Tonight album to life.
It was my first time seeing them — they’re from Brooklyn, so my only real excuse is I’ve never been cool — and there were times where it felt a bit like gazing at someone’s trauma through the sad and poetic storytelling of their songs, but Couch Slut’s aggressive confrontationalism was inner and outer, and they didn’t so much put these narratives on display as they did shove them up your nose like a covid test made of concrete.
The last song they played was longer — I hear that’ll happen with records — but I stuck it out through the intended challenge before stopping in at Hall of Fame to see the band put together by students from the Metal Factory music school. This is their second year featuring a group here, and, well, you want to support the kids. I very clearly was not alone in this thinking, as the room was wall-to-wall. The press of the crowd got to me quickly and I ducked out and back down to the 013 in plenty of time to stop in for a few minutes of Annelies Monseré as she opened the Next Stage with a pastoralia that felt folkish but experimental in its use of drone as more than just a backdrop to the four-part harmonies coming from the stage with the ‘band’ she led. Second flute of the weekend behind Tusmørke last night. Same room. Different context.
My next stop was the main stage for Kavus Torabi‘s commissioned piece, ‘Lion of the Lord’s Elect.’ I had no idea whatsoever what to expect from the set and won’t feign expertise on Torabi’s work through The Utopia Strong, Gong, The Holy Family, and so forth, but from melodic drone to two-drummer cacophony, with sax, bagpipes, synth, guitar, it felt like the construction of a psychedelic temple in that vast hall space. Never quite entirely still, never just about the wash, building up and receding back into its meditations — it was far removed from Couch Slut’s raw hurt and reality in general, a cosmic offering rife with float despite the double dose of kit percussion.
Like a lot of this Roadburn has been for me so far, ‘Lion of the Lord’s Elect’ was a chance to step outside of what I know or might chase down on my own. I’ll stop short of saying you have to step outside your comfort zone — remind yourself you don’t ‘have’ to do anything — but a willingness to take on something unknown is a big part of a commissioned project like this, which only happened because Roadburn made it happen. In its intricacies and overarching flow, proggy noodling and heavier push, it tugged at the limits of where space rock can generally go, and hell’s bells I’m glad I saw it. That hour went fast, and down to the last chime that finished, it was a master’s work. I watched the whole thing.
Feeling antsier today, which might just be fatigue, but still. After Kavus Torabi and co. ended, I moved downstairs to get water and then back up and around 013, looked in on Next Stage, nobody on, and decided to run back to the hotel for a few minutes, take a pill, brush my teeth — the salad/cheese combo had my mouth feeling fuzzy — and take my shoes off for a few minutes. Some of that was nerves for seeing The Keening, the Portland, Oregon, outfit led by Rebecca Vernon (ex-SubRosa) who would shortly perform their 2023 debut, Little Bird (review here) in full on the main stage. The lineup she’s assembled for the tour the band are about to undertake with Bell Witch — they’ll pick up in Spain on a couple days — includes Billy Anderson (too many to list for his production background, all the names tried to escape my brain at once, but he’s handled low end for Blessing the Hogs, High Tone Son of a Bitch and a slew of others) on bass and Nathan Carson of Witch Mountain on drums, as well as Andrea Morgan (Exulansis) on violin and vocals and Christy Cather (Ails, Ludicra) on guitar and some vocals, and if all that pedigree doesn’t do it for you, fine, the band stand on their own anyway.
The main stage has a lot to offer in terms of a flow from one act to the next, and reminds me a bit of years past in how a linear progression is set up throughout the day. That applies less to Kavus Torabi than to The Keening and the three acts that will follow them, but you can still find threads from one to the other, The Keening into Lankum, into Khanate and Blood Incantation. Or at least you can put a story to it that makes sense in sound. It’s not just one band piled on another. There’s thought, and heart, put into it.
I took pictures for two songs of The Keening and went up to the balcony for “Little Bird,” which Vernon dedicated to the people of Palestine, and the rest of the set. After a couple minutes I had to sort of force myself to put the camera down, put my phone away, repeat my various mantras about Freeburn this and that, living the thing instead of just covering it, etc., and I think I was probably better off for that. Little Bird, which has only grown on me since last year — and I liked it plenty when it was reviewed — culminates with “The Truth,” the studio version of which is 17 minutes long. No, I didn’t time it from the stage, but it was no less expansive in-person in its multi-movement unfolding and almost chaptered feel. Vernon’s voice is seething at times, the patterns of her lyrics rooted in ’90s post-hardcore emphatic repetition but so far removed from that thing as to be her own. I’d been looking forward to seeing them since I found out I’d be at Roadburn, and I’m not saying I wasn’t going to check out Khanate in a couple hours, but in many respects they were my priority of today and the fest overall. They did not disappoint, and Morgan nailed the operatics later in “The Truth,” making it all the more gorgeous and stirring. I hope the tour goes well, hope they do more.
Back and forth a bit in the break, but the truth is I was tired, found a corner, and stayed there, so it wasn’t much more than getting water. I ate a pack of almonds I brought from home and had tucked in my camera bag. I did a couple Hungarian lessons on my phone. I did not socialize. I waited until about 15 minutes before Lankum went on, then went to the photo pit to do the thing. There’s always one lonely day at Roadburn. Should’ve been yesterday, was today.
Even Lankum’s line check was heavy, though, and it was mostly the four of them singing. That was a thing to dig, even if Irish folk ‘n’ drone isn’t exactly going to pull you out of your own head most of the time. I recognized “Go Dig My Grave” from last year’s False Lankum later in their set and I very obviously wasn’t alone in that. The main stage room was as full as I’d yet seen it — true I wasn’t in it at all on Thursday, when Chelsea Wolfe played, so if you want to just take that to mean “quite crowded indeed,” go ahead — and with arrangement dynamics that came through in vocals that moved into and out of four-part harmonies, found instruments swapped out between songs and persistent low end hum that I think came off the big drum in back that threatened to swallow melody and audience alike and I’m pretty sure was on purpose, Lankum harnessed traditionalism to suit the purposes of their craft, whether it was an original piece or not. When they left, the P.A. played Cinder Well’s “No Summer,” and that felt right.
Khanate were next.
It would not be my first time seeing Alan Dubin (O.L.D., Gnaw, etc.), Stephen O’Malley (SunnO))), Burning Witch, etc.), James Plotkin (O.L.D., Lotus Eaters, Atomsmasher, etc.) and Tim Wyskida (Blind Idiot God, Insect Ark, etc.) together on stage. One dark, deeply inebriated night two decades ago, I was in their presence as they played a Southern Lord showcase at SXSW that also featured Outlaw Order, Earthride (RIP Sherman), Place of Skulls and Graves at Sea. Yes, I had to look up when it was. And no, I’m not telling you that to be cool. I’m not cool. I’m just old. But Khanate were my prevailing memory of that evening, the singular bleakness and scathe that they wrought, and while I’ve seen the component members of the band in other projects since, there was no question that their performing together under the Khanate banner for the first time in reportedly 19 years was one of the most crucial opportunities Roadburn 2024 provided. There’s a reason they were the first band announced for the fest. It was a big fucking deal.
Their surprise 2023 album, To Be Cruel (review here), underscored the aural black hole they’ve always been. It wasn’t about reinventing their approach so much as about being brave enough to try to make those awful sounds again. Understand: Khanate stand at the end point of music, extreme enough in their mission and end result that nothing but hyperbole can rightly apply. Save for O’Malley tuning between songs, they offered no moments of respite or safe pockets in which to dwell. No cathartic release. They stood close together on stage under stark spotlights. No video screen. Nothing to distract you from the punishment on offer. The only flourish around O’Malley’s glacial riffs and Plotkin’s coinciding rumble was the caustic feedback either of their own or of Dubin’s making with his sampler, noisebox, or whatever the fuck it was. No rescue came. No melody. No letup. “Kick a helpless thing,” and the crowd was the helpless thing. If it was arthouse, it was the moldy basement underneath that smells like rotting meat and no one knows why.
At the Hall of Fame, Full Earth would play nearly the entirety of their own set during Khanate’s. Not a conflict of note for most here, I would think. I did abscond up there to try to see them at least for a few minutes, but the line was out the door — classic Roadburn indication that you’re not getting in — and yeah, I’ve got a pass, but I figured all was well, I was glad a whole bunch of other people would get to the show even if I didn’t, and hightailed it back to the 013. Gotta get your steps in. I’m pretty sure Khanate were still playing the same song when I got back. No summer here either. Lonely day at Roadburn? Fuck you, here’s shit-coated obliteration instead.
And maybe I was done when they were. A long, long time ago and talking about another band, I told a guy I knew that it wasn’t about the notes they were playing, or the notes they were not playing, but about the spaces in between. That’s truer of Khanate than it was of that other band, and with Khanate, even those tense, empty spaces feel like fingernails on the eyeballs. Thusly bled, I walked back down the row of bars around the corner from the 013 — it has a name, who can remember? — and watched humans having dance parties, talking with friends, drinking, laughing, living. Cognitive dissonance to the fact that the world just ended.
Or didn’t, since there’s still another day of Roadburn tomorrow. See you then, and thanks for reading in the meantime. More pics after the jump.
Posted in Features, Reviews on April 20th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
About a 1PM start writing. I lasted even less time at the Roadburn networking meeting than I expected to. Got my nametag for a souvenir, found Lee, said hi to like two people and split. Not that anyone was unfriendly or anything like that — I wasn’t in the room long enough for something like that to happen — I just couldn’t hack it.
I’ve never been able to conjure a decent performance of self in that kind of setting, and I’m even less able to handle crowds generally than I used to be. To be clear: I’m not saying a bad word about people who work in the same field meeting each other — it both makes sense professionally and can be a way to connect likeminded humans — but I just can’t do it. It’s on me, completely. I’d always been invited but shy about checking it out, said this was the year. Okay.
A quick run — well, mid-paced plod, really — back to the hotel to reorient, take Advil, drink water, have a bit of a cry, etc., and try to call my wife. No answer, and if she’s sleeping past what’s 7AM at home, that’s unquestionably to the benefit of her day. I was at the 013 office before the networking meeting doing a quick blurb or two while pounding espressos, so have been up for a while, but the day doesn’t ‘start’ for another hour, so I’ll breathe a minute, get my head right and head up to Hall of Fame in a few with my even-weird-among-weirdos self. Oof.
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Light rain in Tilburg, off and on. It could be far worse. I bumped into Darsombra on my way to their show. They were on their way to lunch, which is how I knew I was early for their 2:30 start. I went to the Hall of Fame, completely empty. I’ll admit that in my head they were going at 2, but when the dude working the board said the room wasn’t opened yet, I said, “please, I’m just looking for a quiet place to sit. I’m sorry. I have a pass if that helps,” and I guess it helped because when he left the room a minute later he didn’t come back with security to kick my ass out. Thank you to him.
Turned out a few quiet-ish moments would be crucial to getting in the right frame of mind for Darsombra, who exuded joy from the moment they got on stage to explain that this was the first show on their European tour, then left and came back out with the backdrop of the video premiered here Monday for “Shelter in Place” to start their set with “Call the Doctor,” glee abounding in the prog rock vocal melodies and total other-planetary reach of their sound. Sharing vocals with themselves and everyone else in the room who knew the song, Ann Everton shifted from synth to gong to bells and clacky-clackies while Brian Daniloski reveled in tonal presence and shred, the two of them moving in their own kind of dance that was the best argument I’ve seen in a while for a vigorous stretching regimen, not that I needed convincing in that regard. Where’s Roadburn Yoga in the mornings? Completely serious about that, by the way.
Smiles on stage and off, it was a celebration of the noise itself and the ability to find one’s place in it. I dig their records and could easily provide (more) links to prove that, but it had been too long since I last bathed in their live sound. Refreshing, they were. Precisely the redirect I needed, and at just the right time. And speaking of time seeing how full the room got, I was glad to have been early, even with the more laid back Freeburn ethic I’m trying to abide by while I’m here. Once they started, time was irrelevant anyhow.
Most of my day today was at the 013 for the main stage, and that started with Mat McNerney’s commissioned project, ‘Music for Gloaming: A Nocturne by the Hexvessel Folk Assembly.’ Following on from yesterday’s full-album performance, I had been expecting a more folkish offering this time, perhaps in part because it was called a Folk Assembly, but I should’ve known better than to expect any single thing. Blackened tones and push, throaty screams and room-shaking low end pervaded amid doomly nod, quiet, ambient stretches of acoustic guitar, piano, softly intertwining dual vocal arrangements. I don’t know if it was being recorded, but it was expansive in a way that accounted for a lot of what Hexvessel have done as a band, and brought it together thoughtfully and with purpose. I’ll keep my fingers crossed it surfaces at some point as a live release, or that they decide to take it into a studio.
The room cleared a bit when they were done — there was nearly an hour before Blood Incantation were going on with the first of their two sets this weekend, this one focused on their ambient Timewave Zero LP that they’ve never played in Europe and have only done I think one or two other times live. Sounds like something perfect for Roadburn, right? How about that.
The long break post-Nocturne afforded me a chance to pop into Next Stage for a few minutes for Miaux’s standalone cinemascocpic synthery. It was low-key enough to suit my brain but I opted for a refresh of coffee and water downstairs and would not regret it as the afternoon turned to evening. I sat for a bit outside the main stage on one of the benched in the hallway — if I’m talking a lot about sitting, understand that I’m also doing plenty of standing and moving about from here to there, but that not-that is a novelty and something I consider part of finding a place for myself during these days; not actively trying to break myself is new — and ended up chatting with Timothy from Supersonic Blues, who are apparently back to being a trio and have plans to record this summer. Good news.
By the time Blood Incantation actually went on, the main stage was jammed. I’ve seen them in their more pummel-prone death metal form, but was curious to watch them explore this more ambient side. I can’t recall ever seeing a band with salt lamps on stage before, so that ticks the box of another Roadburn first for me, and in the wash of synth, loops and effects, the fog, lasers and mostly dim lights, there was no want for mood. Sitar, acoustic guitar, a gong, quiet-then-not vocals, an Attila Csihar guest spot, sampled birdsong, even a trombone that seemed to feedback a couple times became part of the procession along with a defined, slow beat and more persistent percussiveness that emerged after 40-someodd minutes to give shape later on, but the central drone never left and they never lost track of what they were building on top of as it all oozed out from the stage, not so much overwhelming, but growing into its shape in its own time. World creation, and exploratory to be sure, but even at the peak, never too kitchen-sinked or doing anything to pull you out of the hypnotic state. I was left wondering what the inevitable sequel — maybe Timewave One? — might bring. Keyboards and sonics, likewise sprawling. I watched the full set.
They said a subdued thanks and the lights came up to dissolve that reality and let the crowd make its shuffling way to wherever was next. For me that was Dool — a band I first heard and saw at Roadburn eight years ago — doing their third album, The Shape of Fluidity, in its entirety. It’s release day, so all the more a special occasion, but again there was a long break, so I hopped — note: definitely did not hop, just trying to counteract the sitting narrative above — into the Next Stage to soak in a few minutes of Forest Swords. And soaking was about it, since where I stood — look at me go! — could see little more than the flashing lights and a corner of the video screen on the stage.
I stayed long enough to appreciate what I was hearing, but my trajectory had been a repeat of between Hexvessel and Blood Incantation — water refill and then on to the next main stage set, allowing for whatever socializing between might crop up, as some did — so I left the left Next Stage to what seemed like its post-industrial vibes and did the thing. The endgame of the break was Dool (which I’ve been pronouncing wrong all this time; it’s like “dole”), who were the imperative around which I’d made the loose structure of my Roadburn Friday.
The album was fresh in my mind. I listened to it twice after getting back to the hotel the night before, and it’s been getting regular spins at home. It’s plenty heavy, but produced for more than just that, and hearing a song like “Hermagorgon” or the duly scorching opener “Venus in Flames” come through full blast from the main stage, both while I was up front taking photos and after moving up to the balcony to see the rest, was more affecting than I had anticipated.
I don’t talk about it a lot on this site because of what might happen if the wrong person read it, but as a parent trying to help guide a trans kid growing up in the United States — where it is terrifying to think that someday my child might be beaten to death for nothing more than being who she is, or might be driven to hurt herself by just moving through a world that gets off on the cruelty of its rhetoric and culture — to watch Dool guitarist/vocalist Raven van Dorst, whose experience of gender informs the theme of the lyrics throughout The Shape of Fluidity, who has grappled and maybe continues to grapple with that kind of complexity in their daily life, get on the biggest stage here and absolutely own it, own themselves, own that complexity, was powerful and moving well beyond what raw volume could hope to encompass, though there was plenty of that too. To bask in the triumph of Dool’s moment struck me hard, and it’s something I’m so, so incredibly grateful to have witnessed. To imagine along with all the horror in my mind, that kind of possibility exists, even for just a few minutes, was beautiful. I hope sometime in the future to be able to share with my daughter what it meant to me, if she still talks to me by then.
So yeah, it’s a really good record. They did it justice. Big feelings. I guess that’s what it comes down to. I watched the full set.
I missed Inter Arma’s secret show, but fair enough for them to do one after doing their own new record in full. L.A.’s Health — who are most assuredly not to be confused with Heath, who played the skate park last night and will be at Hall of Fame tomorrow — were next on the main stage. Water and a quick hey to Oeds from Iron Jinn and Timothy from Supersonic Blues as they were chatting on the main stage floor level, then to the front for that part of the thing. Am I shirking the Freeburn ideology with a routine today and similar pattern for tomorrow? Maybe on some level, but if it’s about doing what I want to do and feeling good about it — and it is — then I’ll say I’ve yet to regret any of the choices I’ve made or refused to make thus far into Roadburn. Catching Health, about whom I know precious little being simple genre categorization, would be no different.
Making a visual impact in their light and video show to go with their industrial metal — guitar, bass and drums alongside the digitized aspect — Health were loud the way you think of mountains as big. I’d heard some stuff going into the set but would in no way claim to be an expert, but there wasn’t one song they played the crowd didn’t go off for, and reasonably so with the body-volume, intensity of strobe and the breaks that let you go just long enough before the next pulse of bass frequency slammed you into the ground. The flashing lights got to be a lot after not really all that long, and since I knew I wanted my evening to end with Tusmørke in the Next Stage room following the recommendation of a good friend who’d probably rather not have his name dropped, I hit up the balcony in time to get a spot where I could both see and breathe. Not a luxury to be taken for granted.
The thoroughly Norwegian proggers assured my night finished with a smile no less wide than it started however many centuries ago this afternoon with Darsombra at Hall of Fame. Where guitar might be early on was organ and flute along with the bass and drums, and in addition to being tight enough to pull that off as a take on ’70s prog, their between-song banter was hilarious, making fun of Norway with dry humor and talking about Lord of the Rings, Norwegian children being sacrificed to elk, the proliferation of medieval reading material about how to avoid hornets, and so on. To say the room was on board would be putting it mildly. People danced to the warm groove underscoring all the wilfully-odd quirk, and the lighthearted mood on stage set the tone for their entire set, up to and including when they traded keys for guitar, having already jumped between English and Norwegian lyrics.
I hadn’t planned on staying the whole time — tomorrow is another day — and it wasn’t just the tossoff line about witches wanting to control the means of production that held me in place, but it definitely didn’t hurt the cause. I saw a dude playing air-flute. It was that kind of party.
The guitar/keyboard issue was settled when they moved the synth over to the other side of the stage — took a minute, as that kind of thing would — for the last song, but they were fluid jamming whatever anyone on stage was actually doing as part of that, funky like classic prog always wanted to be and delightfully nerdy, toying with effects and getting fuzzy or a little spacier for it, sneaking a reference to the Beverly Hills Cop soundtrack into the first song and ending as a guitar/bass/drums/flute-and-keys four-piece after what felt like a genuine adventure getting there. I was glad to have gotten that recommendation, and yes, I watched the whole set. That’s how I know they finished late, which is something I’ve rarely seen a band do at Roadburn. When they neared 10 minutes over, I thought the house lights would come up, but it didn’t come to that.
Roadburn 2024 continues tomorrow and I’ll have more then. Until then, if you’re here, I hope your Roadburn has been as uplifting as mine has so far, and if not, I hope some sense of that comes through in reading. And thank you for reading.
