Psycho Las Vegas 2022 – Day 3 Notes
Posted in Features on August 22nd, 2022 by JJ Koczan
Early
Ah, the last day. If last night had been the end, I wouldn’t have been able to complain, but if you’re going to do a thing, do it, so Psycho ends on Sunday. And tonight is Mercyful Fate after High on Fire and Paradise Lost, then Monolord closing out the proceedings. And Witch Mountain with Uta Plotkin and Billy Anderson before that. That would be enough, but that’s not it either. Mothership play Famous Foods later. And I can’t help but imagine them leading the entire room in an Animal House-style food fight. Not saying I think it will happen — they’re a smarter band than that — but it would make sense.
This fest is social-ready in a way that things weren’t a few years ago. There’s stuff just strewn about to take your picture next for TikTok or Instagramming, and from the pool mosh to the black metal up in that airplane hangar of an Event Center, the crowd participation in hype before and during and after is very much factored in. Various algorithms will bring up these pictures in ‘memories’ for years to come. I know this because all my old memories are band photos. Kid stuff too now, which I’ll admit gets me sometimes.
But it goes to show the depth of consideration put into something like this. Someone had to design, render and manufacture that big playing card cartoon character by the Poker Tournament, and it’s not a cheap cardboard cutout, either. Shit lights up. Where’s it gonna go until next year? Would they even reuse it, or is it one and done because next year will need a new design?
A video chat with the kid proves restorative. His grandmother brought him home from Connecticut and he looked pretty wiped out from his weekend. I get that. I won’t see him tomorrow, but will be there Tuesday when he wakes up at some maddeningly early time. My flight leaves Vegas at noon tomorrow, gets into Newark at 8:30. Remember I said I’d get through half the day today without fretting about getting to the airport? Seems that was a bit of wishful thinking. So it goes.
Head upstairs as I finish coffee, just to sit in quiet for a minute. I could go back to bed. Don’t. Instead go back downstairs to where Famous Foods is doing Chessboxing with the Gza. No sign of the Genius, but it’s Mike from Elder and Buddy from Greenbeard right now and it seems like a good game, at least going by the overhead camera on the side. This is one of those things that makes sense because it’s Psycho.
I’m sorry, I think that picture is the funniest shit I’ve seen since I got here. Crazy rock and roll bacchanal, right? And I find the chess tournament. Welcome to the story of me at a party.
Not so terribly later
Man, Psychlona know how to ride a groove. This was the last show of their West Coast tour. Gotta be an interesting thing, coming over to play this fest for multiple sets in the heels of your best album yet. Tomorrow they fly back to the UK. That’s gotta feel like an accomplishment, right?
They finished their set with “Warped” from that new album, one more all-lined-up-and-go outbound groove, not just tight but all even in a way that makes it that much easier to get on board whenever. Like they took off a long time ago and you just walked in but it’s still cool and no worries on catching up, they’re still ready for you. I feel like I saw that happen a couple times during their set, folks wandering in and whatnot, though Psychlona, first band of the day in here, noon start, pulled a good crowd. They’re heavy rock for heavy rockers but I feel like there’s more identity starting to come out in their sound over the last two albums. I’ve seen them twice this summer now, here and Germany, so I’m a total fucking expert, mind you. Totally have every clue what I’m talking about.
Does it count as a confession or complaint that I’m exhausted? Either way, I know it’s not rock and roll. But I got chased off the floor spot I was sitting at in Dawg House, and that felt like a spiritual wound I didn’t need, so I apologize.
I saw the tail end of Mint Field’s set, kind of mellow atmospheric indie but they had a little space-kraut psych thing going at the end, a little bit of fuzz worked in with the programmed backbeat and fluid instrumentation between the duo. Lots of melody, kind of breezy but not checked out mentally. Vibe, in other words. Lord Buffalo are also a vibe band, spacious, heavy Americana, brooding rock and an underlying swell of blues doom — not doom the genre, but more like the apocalypse. I’d never seen them before, and I hope to again. Heavy Western is a hard sell at a Vegas sports bar, but the sound in Dawg House has been really good, and that goes for Lord Buffalo as well.
Today isn’t quite the same crunch for me as yesterday.
This is a good thing, however you want to look at it. More time to appreciate a set, offset by that last-day restlessness, knowing that each show is another step back toward real life. Tonight’s sleep is going to be the worst, because in my heart of hearts I’m ready to be home. That’s nothing against Psycho Las Vegas or any of the bands I’ve seen or will see before my night is up, I’m just good to go. I was tired when I came here. So yeah, give me a relaxed Psycho adventure. In a bit I’ll watch Witch Mountain and then head to the Event Center for Paradise Lost. Won’t be iced tea on the patio, but it’s not three bands in an hour either.
Not that I would expect any of them to ever see it, but shout to the door crew at Dawg House anyway, who’ve been nothing but kind and welcoming in a way that has been appreciated. I told them as much before I came in for what I think will be this last time.
Later. Who cares?
We have perhaps arrived at a moment of spiritual rejuvenation sought. I find myself low stress, sitting in back, not in VIP but around there, having just watched Witch Mountain and Katatonia in succession, a one-two brought on more by happenstance than anything. Witch Mountain finished on time, but Katatonia had started late and went late, so for leaving Dawg House on the quick after Witch Mountain were done, I got to catch at least a decent enough portion of Katatonia’s set to make me feel like I saw them.
That’s a win, damnit.
Not the least because Witch Mountain were incredible. I took pictures, very grateful to have the little barricade there for a photo pit, then moved to a good spot in the middle and just kind of dug in. I have fond memories of seeing Witch Mountain live. Having Uta Plotkin on vocals, who shouted out current singer Kayla Dixon, and Billy Anderson on bass didn’t hurt — it was a 25th bandiversary special celebration; and it indeed was pretty fucking special. Save perhaps for the universal exception that is Stinking Lizaveta, I’d say it was my set of the trip at least to this point. Kings Destroy doing “Smokey Robinson” belongs on that list too, if we’re making a list. But Rob Wrong is an unsung hero of doom riffs, and Nate Carson revels in the plod of his drums with an enjoyment that’s infectious. This was clearly something that meant more to the band than just being on stage in front of people at a cool festival, though sometimes that works too, I guess.
Alas, my magic email’s magic would seem to have worn out; I was denied access to the photo pit for the main stage. Said to the guy I wasn’t trying to make his day harder, I was just there to do what the fest brought me here to do, dude went back and checked and that was that. Okay. I took some pictures from the crowd then went up to sit on a real chair in the VIP section and soothe my unduly battered ego.
For what it’s worth, and I know it’s not much, I’ve shot Paradise Lost before. And High on Fire twice this summer on soil foreign and domestic, not to mention last time I was at this fest and shot them. Mercyful Fate I’ll probably never get the chance to shoot again, but I’ve lived this long without I’m sure I can keep going. The world has enough mediocre photos of King Diamond that I do not worry about mine being missed. I know I’m not like a pro photographer out there taking pictures of bands for the festival and I’m not trying to tell anyone otherwise. But I thought this was what I was brought here to do.
The fleeing nature of joy is what makes it worth trying to hold onto. That’s my last word on it. I’ll try again for Monolord at Rose Ballroom.
Earth spins.
It’s 8:34PM. Bet you thought I was going to say “later.”
Paradise Lost got cut short, maybe, but they played a Paradise Lost show before that, so fair enough. I spent most of their set up and in the back and that was fine if for some weird vocal echoey stuff, but if I’d wanted perfect sound I’d have stood by the soundboard. Most of all I wanted a chair.
I have consistently dug Paradise Lost’s work over the last 15 years solid, minimum, and had an appreciation for their early stuff before that, so I am not about to complain about watching them play. They and Katatonia both put in what seemed like a festival set by practitioners of the form. It’s engaging the room for its size, meeting the whole crowd and not just the people 10 feet in front of the stage. Pro shop, in other words.
High on Fire, on the other hand, do not care where you stand. They are happy to run you over regardless. Kind of surprised they’ve never done a live album here, since they’re pretty much the house band. And they’re playing right before Mercyful Fate, so clearly there’s love there in both sides. High on Fire Live at Psycho Las Vegas would make sense. I mean, it does, pretty much every year.
This was my third time seeing them this summer. Coady Willis wasn’t even a question in drums. Completely took for granted that all parts were going to be well and thoroughly nailed, and they were. I know High on Fire has had a few thinkpieces written about them because, whoa-oa, Nutty Matt Pike is nutty!, but this band dominates heavy like no one else I’ve ever seen. And that’s nothing against the thinkpieces, either. Those are conversations that need to be happening if heavy music is ever going to grow outside its very white, very dude optics. I’m sure Matt Pike reads some fucked up shit. Fine. I’m not cold-calling voters for a senate campaign. I’m trying to enjoy being pummeled by riffs. If I thought dude was a nazi I’d say so.
Later
High on Fire delivered what was promised, and there was an hour break before Mercyful Fate at the Event Center. I didn’t move. I had a chair, a little table, up in back. I put my head down, didn’t quite sleep, but rested my eyes for a while. When I looked back up, the room was fuller than I’ve seen it, though admittedly I haven’t spent a ton of time in there. And the King held court, first wearing a kind of ram’s horns headress to climb up the stairs to his own riser on the bi-level stage, topped as it was by a neon upside down cross. You would not call it subtle. Classic, yes. They played a new song too.
I knew I wanted the closing chapter of my adventure to be Monolord at the Rose Ballroom. I left myself enough time en route for a pitstop upstairs — bathroom, drink water, eat bar, shoes back on, go — on the way, and it occurred to me that I was actually sure of where I was going for perhaps the first time in the last four days. I finally got it. I turned left coming out of the hotel hallway into the casino, then hung a right into the not-mall, and made my way down to the end then up the elevator to the third floor. Monolord were pretty much set up by the time I got there.
And you know, in the end, I’m a simple creature. I’ve never been a huge Mercyful Fate fan — nothing against them; that’s an important band I’m lucky to have seen — but I sure was happy to hear Monolord break into “I’ll Be Damned.” The crowd got a big boost I guess as Mercyful Fate wrapped up, but I was largely oblivious, completely exhausted, taking lousy pictures with the wrong ISO and getting ready to call it a night. No, I didn’t stay the whole time. I’m only one person. But I was glad to have gone, and as I look around the hotel room at all the shit I need to throw in my suitcase upon waking up in about six hours, showering and getting the hell out of town (hopefully; I feel like you never know with flying these days), I’m glad I came. Psycho very obviously didn’t need to let me be here, but I appreciate that they did anyway.
And again, thank you for reading. I’m going to bed.
