https://www.high-endrolex.com/18

SonicBlast Fest 2024 Adds High on Fire, Slift and More to Lineup

Posted in Whathaveyou on February 19th, 2024 by JJ Koczan

Last year, at what was my first time attending SonicBlast Fest in Âncora, Portugal, where it’s been held the last several years since moving from Moledo, I had a great, great time. Really. When I think every single day in multiple contexts about how I never seem to let myself enjoy anything — a perspective to which this blog stands as ready testament against, what with all the salivating and hyperbole — my time at SonicBlast is among the first counterpoints that comes to mind. I met new friends, I met old friends, I hung out with Dr. Space for like three days, and that dude’s the best. I stood on stage and watched Dozer, singing along and rocking out alongside friendly, welcoming faces. A rare moment overcoming insecurity. The place, the weather, the beach, the people are beautiful. And the music is very loud. For the rest of my life, I get to say I saw Ruff Majik supporting Elektrik Ram. For this I am deeply lucky.

The shape of my 2024 is such that when SonicBlast happens this year –Aug. 8-10, with the pre-show Aug. 7 set to feature Saint Karloff from Norway among others still TBA — I’ll be traveling with family elsewhere. That’s kind of a result of there only being so much summer between school years and my wife’s teaching semesters, so I’m rolling with it. I wouldn’t be so arrogant as to assume I’d be invited back to SonicBlast anyhow, but if the weekend comes and you don’t see me covering the likes of High on FireMargarita Witch Cult (who I think I might need to see), The ObsessedTonsSlift, and so on, it’s not because I didn’t have a good time there last year or wouldn’t be interested in watching Brant BjorkGraveyardColour Haze and/or 1000mods (who ruled at Desertfest NYC and are maybe recording?), Truckfighters and probably four or five surprisingly hardcore-influenced acts on that huge stage, when in fact I very much would. Last year’s edition was unrealistically good. The photo pit was big enough to dance in. They even had chairs. I’d be back there in a second if I could. Maybe 2025 if I’m lucky and the world doesn’t end (again).

Poster by Branca — to whom I wasn’t brave enough to say hi last year, sorry — and the announcement from the festival’s socials follow in blue, as well as links and the High on Fire single in case you don’t want to just scroll down the site to find it in its own post:

SonicBlast Fest 2024

We’re so proud to announce 13 more bands that’ll burn down SonicBlast Fest’s 12th edition!

Welcome the great @highonfireband, who will release the first single from their upcoming album today, @gayesuakyol @sliftrock @thenightbeats @theobsessedofficial @coffin_aus @jjuujjuu @margaritawitchcult @skemer_official @tonsofweed666 @cobrafuma and @silvershark_boogie 🔥🔥🔥

We’re also so glad to announce the first name to our warm-up party, at the 7th august, @saintkarloff ⚡️

Unfortunately Sunami won’t be able to make it to SonicBlast Fest 2024.

*** more to be announced soon ***

🔥 Full festival tickets are already on sale at BOL (Fnac, Worten, Ctt…), at https://garboyl.bol.pt/ and at https://www.masqueticket.com/entradas/sonicblast-fest-2024

Check all the news at www.sonicblastfestival.com
Artwork by @branca_studio

https://www.facebook.com/sonicblastmoledo/
https://www.instagram.com/sonicblast_fest
https://sonicblastfestival.com/

High on Fire, “Burning Down”

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Album Review: Grace and Space, Floatospherofonica

Posted in Reviews on December 27th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Grace and Space Floatospherofonica

Headphones on, folkz — that was a typo but I’m leaving it — because we’re diving in. Or out. Up? Or some fifth dimensional combination of them all plus time, gravity and consciousness? And if we begin with the central question, “What is float?” — in my head that’s very much asked in the vein of Funkadelic’s “What is Soul,” but you may or may not hear it that way and that’s fine — then Grace and Space‘s wildly syllabic Floatospherofonica is both instructive and cosmically worldmaking. Because without float there can be no ‘floatosphere’ from which the properties might be derived to define something as ‘floatospherophonic,’ probably something related to sound, therefore giving rise to an oeuvre or genre of ‘floatospherofonica,’ as the thing representative of the place.

Certainly the 19-minute title-track is a place to start, but it’s not actually where this collaboration between members of California-based acid experimentalists 3rd Ear ExperienceRobbi Robb, credited here with guitar, bass and production, Sam Wilmore on drums and, crucially, Amritakripa on synth, what minimal vocals there are, as well as percussion and banjo — and the galaxy’s own Scott “Dr. Space” Heller, known for his synth wizarding in Øresund Space Collective, Black Moon Circle, Doctors of Space and others, as well as past teamups live and/or in-studio with the likes of JOY and Carlton Melton and KG West and on and on.

For Heller, Floatospherofonica arrives as part of an ongoing creative supernova. I asked him to send me his full discography which, thankfully, he kept and was kind enough to lend for my personal reference. A couple stats from it: First, the last time he had fewer than 10 releases out in a single year was 2018. In 2023, Heller contributed to or spearheaded 17 albums with various outfits, among them Albinö Rhino, the aforementioned Øresund Space Collective, Doctors of Space and Black Moon Circle, and extensive solo work as Dr. Space. And that’s actually down from 18 in 2022. It would be an impressively broad catalog for a lifetime. It’s more than most ever do. I am fortunate to call this man a friend.

Grace and Space isn’t the first time Robb — whose history goes back 40-plus years to South Africa’s punk underground and includes Tribe After Tribe and sundry other much-respect-to-you-sir-type collabs; which is to say I’m not trying to shine a light on Dr. Space‘s level of output in the paragraph above and discount what Robb, Amritakripa or Wilmore bring to Floatospherofonica, at all, because the truth is it’s probably the bulk of it — and Heller and Amritakripa have worked together. All three were on 2019’s Ear to Space (review here) by a unit listed as 3rd Ear Experience with Dr. Space, as well as 2021’s Danny Frankel’s 3rd Ear Experience (review here), and their shared openness to improvisation resonates through each of the album’s six pieces spread across a hypnotically-broad soundscape anchored but not defined in its 61 minutes by its two longest inclusions: “Floatospherofonica” (19:19) and “Rabjut” (13:17).

Grace and Space Floatospherofonica CD

These two don’t necessarily define the rest of what surrounds. “Time Disappear” leads off, is six minutes of minimalist acid wash guitar and proggy keyboardery with the most discernably-human vocals, and the title-track follows, with “Not Ever Nowhere” offering a nine-minute meditation set to a casually kosmiche throb of a groove before the shimmer takes it to an ice planet, “Rabjut” perhaps embodying it at some point in the distant future before the more grounded feeling “Hydro Blap” gives brief repositioning ahead of the sprawling krauty drones of “Overture” at the finish. Everything is in conversation here with itself, occupying its corner of a fluid universe and letting it make sense in its own way.

Which is far enough out to circle back around to the original question at the start: What defines ‘float’ as the root of Floatospherofinica? I use the term pretty commonly in reviews, and I know when I say something floats, it’s usually referring to a feeling of something being unlatched to a clear rhythm; in the context of pieces like “Rabjut” and “Not Ever Nowhere” and the synth layers of “Overture” put as the apparent foundation of the project from Amritakripa, there is plenty throughout that meets any standard of ‘float’ I can think of to apply, but that’s not necessarily all that’s happening in its ambience, despite being a prevalent enough notion for the album to work around, maybe willfully contradict in a couple spots.

But even underneath that is the already-noted shared affinity between the two parties involved here — that’s Amritakripa and Robb and Wilmore as a group in 3rd Ear Experience in California, and Heller working in his studio in Portugal — for improvisation and for letting the music wander into its own moment of discovery as much as one can. The cinematic way “Floatospherofonica” brings in its initial keyboard line atop the windy drone behind and unfolds in movements makes me think there was some measure of plan at work, somewhere along the line, even if that’s one layer of synthesizer playing off the layer before just recorded, or Heller answering something Amritakripa is doing, maybe vice versa (I don’t know how much back and forth there was), and so on, but I assure you I don’t know that this wasn’t all just made up as it was tracked and if you told me it was, I can’t really see myself offering much of a fight either way.

The inclusion of vocals at all gives Grace and Space an identity separate from most of what Heller does, and the focus on synth pulls to the side of some of the more guitar-led output of 3rd Ear Experience, though if you’d take any of it on between that band, Grace and Space, or pretty much anything any of these cats are involved in, you should be aware you’re headed into the farther reaches of far out. I’ve said on multiple occasions — usually Friday Full-Lengths and the like — that I consider writing about Dr. Space‘s stuff a favor to myself and that’s the case here too, precisely because this project is so able to find its place as distinct from the rest of it. I don’t know that it will be an ongoing thing and I don’t know that it won’t, and while it’s playing out, I’m perfectly willing to accept the fact that some things you don’t always get to know completely and maybe that’s okay.

Also the universe is a hologram and whales are sentient. Happy trails!

Grace and Space, Floatospherofonica (2023)

3rd Ear Experience on Facebook

3rd Ear Experience on Bandcamp

Øresund Space Collective on Facebook

Øresund Space Collective on Bandcamp

Space Rock Productions website

Space Rock Productions on Facebook

Tags: , , , , ,

SonicBlast Fest 2024 Makes First Lineup Announcement

Posted in Whathaveyou on December 20th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Man, you ever feel like you’re crawling to the finish line? I’m doing news catchup the next couple days, and this announcement from SonicBlast Fest came out like last weekend or some such with a first round of lineup adds for the Aug. 2024 edition of the Portuguese heavy festival — it’s the 12th one — and as I sit here with my e’er expanding ass sinking e’er deeper into the couch I feel about as far removed as I could from, let’s say, the glorious nighttime walk across the beach in Âncora that I was lucky enough to be born to eventually undertake after a night at SonicBlast earlier this year.

Not only was it my first time in Portugal and Iberia, period, but I met people I never thought I’d get to meet, saw old friends and made new ones, and for a few days pretty much lived the festival ideal. You get there, see sets, go back, write, drink all the coffee, take pictures, write more, write more, eventually collapse from fatigue, then go home with a rejuvenated spirit. You know, fest life.

Submitted for your daydreams is the initial billing for SonicBlast Fest 2024, with the heavy, stoner, psych and punk and hardcore sides of the festival represented and a solid punch of names with Graveyard, Brant Bjork Trio, 1000mods and Truckfighters. Think this means Deathchant and Sacri Monti will tour Europe together? I do. Think it means Sacri Monti‘s album will be out by then? I hope so. Deathchant, who also played this year, are awesome, by the way.

Here’s news. Tickets are on sale already:

sonicblast fest 2024 first poster

SONICBLAST FEST ’24 – Aug. 8-10

It’s getting hard to breathe… We’re so proud to announce the first bands for SonicBlast Fest’s 12th edition!! Viagra Boys, Graveyard, Wine Lips, Brant Bjork Trio, Sunami, Colour Haze, Home Front, Truckfighters, Poison Ruin, 1000mods, Sacri Monti, Maruja, Deathchant and Máquina will join us at the craziest heavy psychedelic weekend by the ocean ⚡🌊☀️

*** more to be announced soon ***

🔥 Full festival tickets are already on sale at BOL (Fnac, Worten, Ctt…), at https://garboyl.bol.pt/ and at https://www.masqueticket.com/entradas/sonicblast-fest-2024

Artwork by Branca Studio

https://www.facebook.com/sonicblastmoledo/
https://www.instagram.com/sonicblast_fest
https://sonicblastfestival.com/

Colour Haze, Sacred (2022)

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Travo Stream Astromorph God in Full; out Friday

Posted in audiObelisk, Reviews on November 15th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

travo astromorph god

Portuguese heavy psychblasters Travo will release their second full-length, Astromorph God, this Friday through gig.rocks! and Spinda Records, furthering a regional/generational sonic emergence on the Iberian Peninsula that you neglect at your peril. Marked early by synthesizer sci-fi grandiosity, it is a cosmos-revelry vision of psychedelia that proliferates from post-intro opener “You Won’t See Me,” which picks up from the minute-long “Omens” and shreds, shreds, shreds the skies above it over the course of its five-minute run, a steady push of bass and some Roky Erickson/George Harrison stuff happening there too amid the frenetic kosmiche rock that will come even more forward in the howls and twists and thrust of “Arrow of Motion,” a far-out space boogie that’s as much now as then between Slift and Hawkwind but thankfully has plenty enough shine to realize the track’s supernova payoff. Taking that arrow, aiming it at the center of the universe, letting fly.

What could be better for a scorched earth than barnburner psych? “Arrow of Motion” boasts ‘go’ worthy of comparison to Ecstatic Vision and I’m sure if you’re on the whole King Gizzard/Pigsx7 end of modern psychedelia there’s a lot here for you as well. “Faceless Ghoul” shoves open the doors of perception with broad leads and echoing, chant-ish vocals calling to mind some of Iberia’s melodic proggers, shades of the recently disbanded Atavismo or Viaje a 800 at their weirdest, but has both structure and direction, so is not a hodgepodge or any sloppier sounding than it should be — I mean, it’s a star-forming nebula of hydrogen and helium coming together with enough gravity to ignite nuclear fusion; you’re gonna break a few eggs — however unhinged its jam sounds before they Sabbath crash shortly before six minutes in and spend the remainder of the song’s total 7:31 in a drone before “Turn to the Sun” restarts the dance-to-this-you-freaks physical urging of “Arrow of Motion” with perhaps more lean into the chorus and a shred seems toTravo (Photo by Francisco Gaspar) melt the track after about a minute and a half, and it’s nearly another minute before they’re back in the verse, undaunted.

Backed by the 15-minute closing title-cut, “Turn to the Sun” is penultimate on Astromorph God and it straddles the line between psychedelic shove and harsh noise, with the guitar meting out furious pulsations of noise as Travo propel themselves toward its finish. And as regards “Astromorph God,” buckle up. The four-piece seem to know at the outset they’re in for a longer ride, and while I wouldn’t call it patient exactly, like Sun Voyager on their most recent outing, Travo find a pocket in the verse in which to catch their breath before the next wormhole opens and sucks band and listener alike through to another change. To the band’s credit, they use nearly every second of “Astromorph God”‘s 15:16, and they don’t depart from the intensity — even the jammier end is dizzying — but they do account for the sprawl of longform work in repetitions and the exploration of the parts of the song itself, breaking to quiet after 10 minutes to start the last build in making the garage rock of an alternate dimension.

Euphoric and lysergic, Astromorph God positions Travo within the sphere of modern heavy underground psychedelia, and while Europe has always been somewhat tribalist in its designation of hotspots — Germany, Sweden, UK — it would be interesting to see Portugal and Spain force their way onto the map this decade as Greece did the last with a variety of acts and corresponding swath of sounds. I’m not saying Travo are leading that charge, but someone would need to and they certainly seem to have the energy for it if the music is anything to go by. A lot will come down to how much they tour, where and when, festivals, blah blah, but the spirit of victory resounds through this second Travo full-length, and it’s hard to imagine it not being embraced readily by those among the converted who take it on and maybe even a few heads out there who didn’t know they were weirdos to start with. Yeah, think of Astromorph God like a litmus test. “Must be this out of place on Earth to relate.” Little cardboard hand like you’re trying to get on the roller coaster.

Enjoy your ride. More info follows, including the preorder link, as per the PR wire:

It’s said that Travo is one of Portugal’s best kept secrets and it’s looks like it’s true. They’re young; they’ve already published two albums and one EP (and a the new one ‘Astromorph God’ which is on its way); and their live shows a real joy of head-banging, crowd-surfing and mosh pits. In their music you can find a fusion of heavy psych, progressive rock and trash-metal, with a significant garage attitude, without any type of filter. Yes, Europe is about to explode, with bands such as Slift, Maragda, Gator The Alligator, Kamggarn and, of course, Travo. It’s clear that on this side of the Atlantic Ocean there are thousands of fans of bands such as King Gizzard And The Lizard Wizard, Osees, Psychedelic Porn Crumpets, Elder, Wine Lips and Frankie And The Witch Fingers.

And although this new album by David Ferreira (bass, guitar), Gonçalo Carneiro (guitars, synths, percussion), Nuno Gonçalves (drums, percussion) y Gonçalo Ferreira (vocals, guitars, percussion, piano) won’t see the light until 17 November, it can be pre-ordered on both compact disc and vinyl editions through Spinda Records and gig.Rocks!, Spanish-Portuguese alliance under which this album will be out.

‘Astromorph God’ will be available on November 17 on digital, compact disc and on a double edition on vinyl, limited to 150 copies in turquoise color and 150 copies in standard black color, both with gatefold cover.

PRE-ORDER ‘ASTROMORPH GOD’: https://spindarecords.com/product/travo-astromorph-god/

On October 4 ‘Astromorph God’ Iberian tour kicks off. So far gigs at Uma Noite Irreversível, Festival NOVO and Sevilla Monkey Week have been announced already.

Travo live:
Nov 18 | Évora (PT) @ Black Bass Festival
Nov 25 | Seville (SP) @ Monkey Week
Dec 02 | Porto (PT) @ Woodstock 69

MORE ABOUT ‘ASTROMORPH GOD’
Track-list:
1. Omen
2. You won’t see me
3. Arrow of motion
4. Faceless ghoul
5. Turn to the sun
6. Astromorph God

Credits:
Produced by Travo and Budda Guedes
Recorded and mixed by Budda Guedes at Moby Dick Studios (Portugal)
Mastered by Clara Araujo at Arda Recorders (Portugal)
Artwork and layout by IMUNE
Published and distributed by Spinda Records and gig.Rocks!

Travo on Facebook

Travo on Instagram

Travo on Bandcamp

Spinda Records on Facebook

Spinda Records on Instagram

Spinda Records on Bandcamp

Spinda Records website

Tags: , , , , , ,

Dispatch from SonicBlast 2023: Day Three

Posted in Features, Reviews on August 13th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

SonicBlast Fest 2023 day 3 sq

08.12.23 – Sat. – Fest site

Before show

Found a shady spot and got here in time to catch some of Earthless’ soundcheck. The haze of yesterday and mist/rain of last night have been replaced by a bit of wind and blue skies clear enough to see neighborhoods on Mars. It is a little cooler than yesterday, about which I will not complain. If it holds till tonight, I’ll be glad I have my wizard flannel.

To get here today I took the beach route, rather than going by the river as Church of the Cosmic Skull once advised, and the waves looked like something off a wall calendar. They sell shirts here that say “beach and riffs,” and I’ll tip myThe beach in Portugal goofy wide-brimmed hat to whoever decided to roll that out. Marketing making the world go around.

I’ve done a fair amount of writing the last couple days, which has felt good, seen wonderful people and heard great music at consuming volumes, which as far as I’m concerned is the stuff of life. Traveling alone can feel weird sometimes — like anything — but the truth is that once I get where I’m going, I’m never alone except when I want to be, to work or sleep, and so on. It’s been busy, and I think it’ll be a few days home before I really process any of it beyond the initial impressions conveyed in the notes I’ve been taking as it’s taken place — check in Friday — but I feel good about the work and the experience, and I’m glad I came.

This is the last day, and I expect by six or The main stages at SonicBlast 2023seven this evening my head will start to move back into travel-mode thinking about getting on the plane tomorrow — the airport in Porto is beautiful, as it would invariably be — and I don’t know if I’ll get to write again before I’m back in the US. Accordingly, thank you again to Ricardo, Thelma and all here at SonicBlast. I have been treated better than I probably needed to be, and am on awe of the passion and drive that has built this festival up to what it is over the last 11 years. As I listen to Kanaan line-checking before they open the day on the third stage — that’s four-for-four on kickoffs, if you’re keeping score — and look over the now-empty-but-soon-to-be-slammed main stage(s) area, it’s a little surreal, but as realities go, I’m happy to dwell in it while I can. Thank you for reading. Thanks to the bands and everyone I’ve spoken to or hung out with. Thanks to my family and obviously, thanks to Wendy, through whom all things are possible.

Getting close now. I can feel it. Here’s the day:

Kanaan

Kanaan (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Noting from the stage that it was their first time in Portugal, Norwegian instrumentalist trio Kanaan did not look back after a 15-or-so-minute delayed start owing to a fence blowing over outside as doors were supposed to open. So yes, the wind is a factor. Or at least it was until they put the fence back up and Kanaan came out to lock into the hypnojazz of “Downpour” from the 2022 album of the same name (review here), bass, guitar and drums coming together, seeming to each split its own direction, meeting up later on as one might with friends, only with riffs instead. This was my second time seeing them. The first was Høstsabbat last Fall in Oslo, which is about as different a setting as you can get from SonicBlast, and it’s to the band’s credit that their sound holds up to either context. Maybe it was the sun, or the wind, or the last-day blues, but the spacey, patient unfolding of “Pink Riff” felt extra resonant, as did the synth-laced fuzz that followed to underscore the upward launch in progress. Working against gravity, they rode that groove for a while and did a few orbital laps in circles and twists of rhythm, and resolved in a noisy freakout before coalescing again around the guitar, but the message was clear and the controls were set to ‘far out.’ If they were bummed at cutting their set short, they didn’t show it as they finished with “Return to the Tundrasphere,” having saved the thickest nod for last. Right on. I’ll take seeing them at any opportunity. Wound up chatting with them later on and let it spill that I thought they were onto something really special and they talked about some of their plans for future records. This is a band with the potential to be very good for a long time. A band that can grow with its players. Fingers crossed.

Black Rainbows

Black Rainbows (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Space hippies of the world, unite! You have nothing to lose but your dayjobs! I’d been looking forward to Black Rainbows, as they always seem to find a line between more straightforward heavy rock, classic cosmodelia, and hooks, hooks, hooks, and wouldn’t you know, that’s precisely what they delivered to open the main stage. They covered MC5’s “Black to Comm” and gave it due urgency, and with their new album, Superskull (review here), relatively fresh in mind, I dug the crap out of it. I think they get overshadowed in a weird way by the work founding guitarist/vocalist Gabriele Fiori does in running the Heavy Psych Sounds label/booking company, but god damn, if you actually listen to their records, they’re spot on heavy psych rock, taking some of the energy and enthusiasm that I forever associate with the Italian underground and making it theirs through performance and a strong stylistic foundation. I dig this band, is what I’m saying. If you haven’t been introduced, hit up the latest album and work your way back to the desert idolatry of their earliest stuff and I sincerely doubt you’ll regret it. They’re like a one-stop shop for everything you could ask modern stoner rock to be, while also being able to occasionally blow it out or loose a riff like “Grindstone,” and hold another level of thrust in reserve for a multi-tiered finish. First band on the big stage and people were already dancing. This place is amazing, this band way undervalued.

Spirit Mother

Spirit Mother (Photo by JJ Koczan)

The only reason I wasn’t absolutely blindsided by how heavy Sprit Mother’s thud landed in-person was because of being fortunate enough to premiere their “Dead Cells/Locust” two-songer last month. Both those songs were aired, and it was likewise a pleasure to hear their rawer, more all-in sensibility extended to tracks from their 2020 debut, Cadets (review here). They played as a double-guitar, double-violin five-piece. One violin? Well that’s interesting. Outside the heavy norm. Respect to that, especially since the songs are good. Two? That’s downright individual. Maybe by their fourth record they’ll be doling out fuzz accompanied by a string quartet — and I’m not trying to be a smartass; I think that’d rule — but the takeaway is that the Los Angeles band are growing. Growing heavier, growing in depth and texture, and looking for ways to distinguish themselves. They’re on their way. This tour and the upcoming US run with Hippie Death Cult will help, but there’s nothing they should be doing that they’re not already doing. I’ll look forward to remembering seeing them here for the first time, including that laugh shared by the band and the front row when guitarist/vocalist Armand Lance attempted to throw his bandana out to the crowd but it hit a wall of wind and didn’t travel more than a meter before landing unceremoniously in the photo pit. Sometimes it’s the little things.

Earthless

Earthless (Photo by JJ Koczan)

It’s safe by now to call Earthless legends, right? A fully-earned reputation two decades running that precedes them by miles, the quintessential heavy trio released Night Parade of 100 Demons (review here) in January, and even though I knew what was coming, it was hard not to feel physically overwhelmed as they built up the characteristically extended, vinyl-side-consuming title-track to its full breadth. And I saw them like a month and a half ago. Shit, I heard their soundcheck today! Nonetheless, when guitarist/sometimes-vocalist Isaiah Mitchell, bassist Mike Eginton and drummer Mario Rubalcaba dug in, you had no real choice but to bodily sense it. Sure, it’s been loud all weekend, but with Earthless it’s never quite just about any one thing — even Mitchell’s guitar, which feels like sacrilege to say somehow — but about the full combination of all of it working at a scale that belongs solely to the band. Maybe that’s how you get to be legendary to start with. There’s just something intangible there, and as much as it feels like they’re plunging headfirst into the unknown, you always know that they’re in control, hand-on-the-wheel, and so forth. As spacey as they got at SonicBlast, that was still true, and while I’m not so far removed from my last exposure, it’s a testament to the power of what they do that they could be so affecting. Rest assured, I went back after refilling my water bottle and taking a minute to write this, in more than enough time to catch the burner ending, the next outbound excursion, and the staple cover of The Groundhogs’ “Cherry Red” that capped the set.

A Place to Bury Strangers

A Place to Bury Strangers (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Today I learned that the dude from A Place to Bury Strangers — multi-instrumentalist/live guitarist and vocalist Oliver Ackermann — really hates his guitar. Before the first song was done, he’d launched it in the air multiple times and let it hit the stage, swung it over his shoulder like he was trying to split wood, and run the strings along the front edge of the stage. Then he tuned up, which I think might’ve been my favorite part. I haven’t seen them before, but by all accounts that’s kind of how it goes. Not arguing. True to their New York roots, their sound is a kind of no-wave indie noise punk, but without atmosphere, but trying to crawl out of its own skin anyhow. Restless movement in the bass of John Fedowitz and drummer Sandra Fedowitz was fitting company for all that fucked up amp-noise wash, and I don’t know if Thurston Moore is still hanging around today — let’s figure probably not, but you never know — but it’s easy to imagine him smiling, wherever he may be. Intermittently caustic, light on accessibility and thick on fuckall, they sounded the way my brain feels when I think about the climate crisis, and soon enough, Ackermann left the stage to bring the shenanigans directly to the people out front, but he and maybe Sandra (?) got back up eventually and hit it on the next song, leaving half the crowd slackjawed and a whole other portion smiling knowingly. I guess they’re not really my thing sound-wise, otherwise I might have driven into NYC from Jersey to see them at some point in the last 20 years, but you have to appreciate the expression and the sheer physical effort in it. And the fact that they played after Earthless. I’m glad nobody got hurt, with the exception of that guitar, which, admirably, somehow made it through the whole set, Ackermann handing it behind the drum kit to free his hands so he could swing one of the stage strobes around by the cable — you know, like you do — before taking it back to finish the song, getting a couple more high-arc tosses in in the meantime. There was more as Fedowitz came out from the kit to the front of the stage for vocal duties, bringing the floor tom and snare along and playing while standing up. I have to think you get the point. A spectacle.

Eyehategod

Eyehategod (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I don’t know how long it’s been since I saw Eyehategod, and in the spirit of the band, I don’t really give a shit. The New Orleans sludge originators — they didn’t do it on their own, but there’s sludgers the world over who should be calling them Uncle — came out and jammed for a couple minutes before the set actually started, and from there it was feedback abrasion, raw-throated gnash from vocalist Mike IX Williams, the somehow-bouncing riffs of Jimmy Bower and bassist Gary Mader’s tonal density like the dirt from which their mud is made, while drummer Aaron Hill — who’s been in the band a decade now — managed to make it go. I was off them for a few years, but they’ve stood up to the years with middle fingers ever raised, and I can’t think of another band who can come across as both completely professional and unhinged at the same time, as when Williams started the faux-prayer “dear god, please forgive us,” before seeming to think better of the whole idea and end with a quick “fuck you” as the next song slammed in. In a crowd with this many people, it was most likely somebody’s first Eyehategod show, and while I’m no expert on the subject, when I think of Eyehategod, I think of precisely the kind of omnidirectional aggro disaffection they tore into. “How many people have to go to work tomorrow?” Some hands. I have to think more would be up if tomorrow was Monday. Right into “Every Thing, Every Day.” They’re a band who’ve been underestimated for over 30 years, and much more than most, they make it believable that they don’t care. And probably by now they don’t, if they ever did. That, plus riffs.

Imarhan

Imarhan (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Today’s Tuareg contingent, Imarhan come from Algeria and followed suit in rhythmic style and resultant danceability from Bombino and Etran de L’Aïr, both of whom also had the crowd moving yesterday and the day before, which is starting to feel like a very, very long time ago. Whatever focus might be on the guitar, Imarhan kept the theme running of bass I could happily spend an evening listening to, as well as clearing the slate after the aural violence of Eyehategod and the actual violence of A Place to Bury Strangers to transition into the evening ahead. I know little about Tuareg culture or the plight of the people who are part of it, but the music as an outlet for that reinforces the communicative nature of art, and the more Imarhan jammed, the more they got their point across. Their latest album is called Aboogi, and the connection between desert rock and, well, desert rock, should be plain to anyone who encounters it. Mellow, warm boogie gave over to sweet psych instrumental melody, spirals of engaging guitar noodling, vocals and hand-percussion going right along, as if they wouldn’t, and the flow held. In America, everything is political and everything is race, and I’d be more than happy to go on about the long history of white producers “discovering” and recording music from around the world, from Lead Belly to Bombino — aesthetic colonialism — and I noted in reading up that Aboogi was recorded by Gruff Rhys of Super Furry Animals, but this isn’t the time or place for that rant. I’m not looking to be misunderstood, and frankly, the music felt more about erasing lines than drawing them. Probably that makes me chickenshit. A privilege afforded by my own culture. As the sundown act for the final day of SonicBlast 2023, Imarhan invited all to dance, and many took them up on it.

The Black Angels

The Black Angels (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I’ve dabbled in the work of Austin psych rockers The Black Angels, but not much more than that. Most of what I know is people like them and they’re well regarded critically. Big mags that go to SXSW write about them, though that’s hardly their fault. There were times when it seemed like the kick drum was the only thing keeping the whole set from turning into a puddle of goo, but obviously that’s on purpose, and with the keys and the two guitars, bass, more keys, multiple vocalists, one drummer — more two-drummer psych bands now! — all seeming to go at once, they were full in sound and heavier live than I would have expected them to be, which I guess is a compliment since they also had that languid sway speaking to some notion of coolness that is timeless if you believe the Baby Boomers invented time or that anyone in mainstream culture knows psych rock still exists, or cares, for that matter. You could call it indie crossover if you want — it’s the internet; the stakes couldn’t be lower — but they were plenty lysergic, and parts felt like a grown-up version of what Spirit Mother were up to this afternoon, rockin’ out in Reverb City. But the crowd knew them more than I did and they put out a record last year called Wilderness of Mirrors that was probably genius and if I bothered to listen would change my life, so there you go. I guess they left me a little cold, but I’ll take that on myself since I’m both waiting for Dozer and half thinking about packing and flying out tomorrow. Did I say “last day blues” yet? Fair enough. Throbbing, they were.

Church of Misery

Church of Misery (Photo by JJ Koczan)

It would be fun to put together a list of the best riff writers of all time — I’m not going to; no fun — but any such endeavor would be bullshit without the inclusion of Tatsu Mikami from Church of Misery. The low-slung founding bassist of Japan’s leading doom rock export has been through entire lineups of singers, guitarists and drummers, but the guitar of Yukito Okazaki, the drums of Toshiaki Umemura and returning vocalist Kazuhiro Asaeda marked themselves out as a version of Church of Misery to see, making the case strongly on this year’s Born Under a Mad Sign (review here) for showing up. Certainly Church of Misery fucking did. And oh, when that bass tone hit, I could feel it like a rumbly in my tumbly and all of a sudden I didn’t care if the lyrics were about the dude feeding his cat, it was that groove that had me. They were on fire. Kazuhiro waving his hands around swimming through the fog of the riffs — also the actual fog — absolutely nailing “Born to Raise Hell,” and Yukito might be a generation younger but he also might be the best guitarist I’ve seen with this band, and by this time in my life I’ve seen a few. For a new incarnation of the band, everybody owned the material, Toshiaki with the oh-so-essential swing to make that doom boogie, and Tatsu on the far side of the stage, an absolute master at this thing he does. As the photographers were getting kicked out of the pit — not complaining; that time/song limit is useful every now and again to keep you in check and handling your shit — I put my body in front of the P.A., just for a second, so I could feel it in my bones. Incredible how a band so obsessed with mass murder can be so life-affirming. I’m glad they’re back, and I’m lucky to have seen this version of the band. They finished with “Beltway Sniper” and “Freeway Madness Boogie,” both from the new record, and the place went off like the songs were 20 years old. It was a celebration.

Dozer

Dozer (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Life affords you very few — none to date, in my case — to get on stage and watch while Dozer are playing. Did I dare? It was now or never. And as experience-making as that was, I’m glad I went out front again in time to see Arvid from Greenleaf come out for a guest spot on “Rings of Saturn.” I’d heard before they went on that was going to happen, and it was quick but great, no less because they followed it with “Supersoul” and man, I just went nuts. It was so great. So great. Chills the entire time, not even exaggerating. Well maybe a little bit fucking hell give me a break Dozer were so god damned amazing I was headbanging in the photo pit. Maybe the pics will suck. Who cares? Arvid back out: “this is Monster Truck. That big thing that pushes stuff.” A bit of standup “Always eat spinach.” My friend, I have been trying for three days to find some to no avail. If you got the hookup don’t hold out. Yes, I saw Dozer last December. Again, who cares? If I saw them yesterday this would’ve still been incredible. Shit, I DID see Greenleaf yesterday. Unreal. Culmination of the weekend. “Born a Legend.” Existential high point I feel like I’ve been chasing for the last two and a half years. The payoff for my pandemic. Sebastian Olsson on drums. Holy shit. Fredrik Nordin’s vocals coming through those giant speakers. That shout. Those riffs. Johan Rockner’s bass not only keeping up with Tommi Holappa’s twists and punches and shred but doing so with a singular immediacy. Dozer is the band who taught me heavy rock could be explosive, propulsive, volcanic, and still beautiful. They went to their first album in 15 years, Drifting in the Endless Void (review here), to close out with “Missing 13,” Olsson knocking over a cymbal and Arvid picking it up en route to Dozer riding that riff and Holappa soloing away. There was some mic feedback toward the end, but it didn’t matter. I stopped writing. I stopped worrying. I put my phone down and banged my fucking head and threw my fist in the air, and for a few gorgeous minutes I hope I never forget that’s what life was.

Lunavieja

Lunavieja (Photo by JJ Koczan)

An occult epilogue to my evening and my SonicBlast, Lunavieja had skulls, reeds, incense and centuries of Iberian heathenism to draw from, and with a sound that was vibrant and a theatricality unlike anything else I’ve seen this weekend, they built an atmosphere of malevolent, writhing doom, psychedelic post-metal, some rock, and meditative, dark folk. I said a few goodbyes and made my way out during their set, stopped up on the boardwalk to sit on a little bench there in the mostly dark — the town is right there, so there is ambient light — and look at the stars and listen to the music and the waves together. “Beach and riffs,” right? It wasn’t planned, and it was only a few minutes, maybe five, but just stopping, sitting for a breath, it was like taking a huge drink of water. I was already on my way out mentally and physicality — got my ride to the airport tomorrow confirmed and everything — so this was just about being there, putting myself in that moment, to be, just to be, in that place one more time. Lunavieja’s grim mass behind, the anticipation of returning to my family ahead, I allowed for the appreciation of being in the middle, not existing in either world yet. Not thinking about the travel, the writing, the to-do list that awaits. I doubt Lunavieja will ever know they were a part of that, that they helped make it happen in a weird kind of way — ‘weird’ suiting them quite well, generally — but they were. It meant something to me. I learned a lot here. They were a part of that, too.

Thank you. If your eyes are on these words, thank you. The list of names is so long. Everybody I spoke to, everyone who came up and said hi, the fucking Sasquatch guys shouting me out, being onstage while Dozer are playing. Meeting Berto, seeing Claire after a decade, hanging out with Dr. Space, chatting music with Daniel and Bruno in the photo pit, taking pictures of bands, pictures with people, trying to cram as many memories into my head as I possibly could because I’m just so god damned lucky to be here. The flight, the nerves. It was all worth it, easily. For Dozer alone, never mind Acid King, Ruff Majik, Greenleaf, Kanaan, Church of Misery, Spirit Mother, Temple Fang, Naxatras (now I get to say I’ve seen Naxatras forever!), Weedpecker, Kadavar, all the way back to Plastic Woods, the first band at the pre-show, absolutely schooling me on where I was and what it meant to be here. Thank you. Thank you for reading. Thank you Ricardo and Telma. Thank you for inviting me, for welcoming me, for the music and the place. The reality of what you’ve built is so much more than just the beach and riffs. Thank you.

I fly out tomorrow evening, 6PM-ish. I don’t know that I will or won’t write again before then, so one more time, thank you for reading, thanks to Wendy, The Pecan, my mother, my sister. I don’t know that I’ll be invited back to SonicBlast again, and that’s not what matters. What matters is how fortunate I was to be here at all. Thank you. Thank you.

More photos after the ‘read more’ jump.

Read more »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from SonicBlast 2023: Day Two

Posted in Features, Reviews on August 12th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

SonicBlast Fest 2023 day 2

08.11.23 – Fri. – Press trailer

Before show

Hot one in Âncora today. I walked over via the beach, crossing from one boardwalk to the other on the sand instead of going by the river as I did yesterday. No regrets. Waves crashing in, a humid haze in the air reminding of home, summer, that feeling where you want to swim instead of walk. Swimming sounds pretty good, actually. I may have to settle for soaking myself in one of the sinks I’ve been using to refill my water bottle.

Rolled in like I knew where I was going. Day one down, I’m an expert now. Ha. I ran into the Temple Fang dudes and Jack from Elder, saw Weedpecker setting up to open the day on the third stage, said a quick hi to Ricardo. It’s that kind of thing. See people, say hi, and then I usually feel that pull to go sit by myself somewhere and write. The press shack is air conditioned. It is a mercy. Actually cooler here than in New Jersey, where I live, but I’ve got more resources at home to stay cool, and I’m not running back and forth all day taking pictures and writing. Not usually, anyhow. Sometimes we all have those days.

Got to bed a little after three, woke up at 9AM, showered first, coffee second. Sorted pictures to go with the review of day one, which considering how much I saw took some time, quick check-in with the family — everybody’s fine; they said don’t come home (no, not really) — and had an hour left over to sneak in a nap before getting heading over here from the crash spot.

By the course of my history with festivals today will be the hardest day. Tired from a late night last night with the prospect of another full day tomorrow, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. I’m doing a lot of slow breathing. Too bad I haven’t run into anyone running an impromptu yoga class. Maybe I’ll start one later if I have 10 minutes to spare and am feeling like making a spectacle of myself, which is how you know it won’t happen.

A lot of water, coffee until I get the jitters, which I’m approaching with the usual lack of caution like I’m trying to burn a hole in my stomach, and food somehow some way. The latter is my only real goal today beyond survival. And a big part of that, I suppose. It’s gonna be a good one. You can see the lineup above. I don’t need to tell you.

I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up or what — that review of day one was a beast; I don’t imagine anyone reading it front to back, and if they do, I’m sorry about the typos; more to come! — but what a time this is, and what a place. Maybe I’ll be invited back and maybe not — not sure what I add except jamming the backstage espresso maker — but if this is actually a once-in-a-lifetime experience, I’m lucky it’s my life it’s happening in.

Conan, Clutch and Stoned Jesus over the P.A. Thinking of you, Igor, and the war on the other side of this continent. Stay safe.

Here’s the day:

Weedpecker

Weedpecker (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Clearly SonicBlast knows how to pick its leadoff acts. The fest is three-for-three with Plastic Woods, Desert’Smoke and now Weedpecker coming all the way from Poland. Stratospheric in lush and proggy three-part harmonies at the start, a calming entry to the day that will unfold in its wake, and solidified from there around a few more terrestrial riffs and big finishes. Immediate vibe, well received. The growth this band has undertaken throughout the last 10-plus years shouldn’t be discounted, and if I was going to see them at any point, I’m glad to do so after their late-late 2021 album, IV: The Stream of Forgotten Thoughts (review here), which as you might expect is the pinnacle of their evolution to-date. But the thing about the trajectory they’ve had that I want necessarily expecting was how fluidly their heavier rock stuff fit with the ’70s melodies and the echo in the guitar that it’s hard to imagine can’t be heard in Spain from here. Not a band I expected to see, but they packed the third stage like it was much later in the day and closed with “Nothingness” from their second LP, II (review here) with one more engaging mellow-heavy flow that I watched from a little spot on a bench in the shade. That was pretty much perfect.

Monarch

Monarch (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Heavy, progressive, and not laid back but not forced in its push, Monarch were more rooted in original-era heavy than Weedpecker just prior, but on a different wavelength. Big early ’70s vibes, but modernized, and they’ve been through a few lineup changes, but if there were hiccups, I didn’t hear them, and I watched the full set while writing, which I also take as a sign of genuinely enjoying a thing as well as appreciating where it’s coming from. I’d love a new record from these guys, after 2019’s Beyond the Blue Sky (review here) — issued through no less than Causa Sui’s label, El Paraiso Records — and I have to feel like if Mondo Drag can do it, so can they. Keyboards complementing a bassline that had the earplugs vibrating in my head, they were remarkably well suited to the atmosphere here, with the beach over that way, sometimes languid but not lazy, melodic and drifty but filled out with a heft and the keyboards that make them even more their own thing. SoCal and Portugal seem to mesh well. Sun and breeze, beach and the ocean. Complementary West Coast vibes. Hey man, it doesn’t even snow anymore where I live. I can get down.

Naxatras

Naxatras (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Speaking of bands I never thought I’d see who’ve made strikingly proggy turns, here come Naxatras heralding 2022’s modus redirect, IV (review here). The Greek outfit made an impact in Europe almost from their very beginning, or so it seemed to me across an ocean, and the chemistry of their jammier early work provides an easy explanation why. They mixed instrumentals and vocalized pieces, and were serene in a manner that was their own, creating the space while also inhabiting it. Like I said, this is my first time watching them play, so I can’t speak to how the presence of the keyboard on stage has affected their live show one way or the other, but they were hypnotic, and I found myself standing out front in the crowd for a few minutes, near the sound booth, just kind of drinking it in, because that’s what Naxatras’ music does to me. Those times when you feel like your blood is moving too fast — that’s what they’re there for, to put you back in a place that feels less combustible. It wasn’t a surprise that their sound was so gracefully enveloping, but it was a pleasure to experience in-person, and their subdued space ambience and subtle push of bass were more than I might reasonably have asked for. Bonus extra trippy, lightly funked, smoothly grooved.

Temple Fang

Temple Fang (Photo by JJ Koczan)

You never quite know what’s coming with Temple Fang, and they seem to like it that way. They’ve replaced their drummer I think since I saw them at Freak Valley last year (review here), and the single-song set they played there was put together as a last-minute change from their original plan that worked so well they ended up releasing it as a live record (review here). The kind of band who don’t think twice about playing a full show comprised solely of new material, and a treasure for that as well as for the soul they bring to their expansive heavy psychedelia. They opened with “Gemini” and set themselves on a course of ultra-patient ebbs and flows, proffering the kind of cosmic rock that reminds you that the universe is so big human brains lack the capacity to fathom it. Guitarist/vocalist Jevin de Groot and bassist/vocalist Dennis Duijnhouwer have a creative partnership that goes back more than a decade, and Temple Fang is more its own thing with time. I couldn’t find a shady spot anywhere, so meandered a bit, digging the jam as it unfolded. Whatever these guys do next — live-recorded studio LP with a solidified lineup? — just count me in already. Their songs build worlds. Vast, heavy, soulful, spontaneous, immersive, always with the chance of a freakout looming. They’ve got a thing, to be sure, but the thing is everything.

Greenleaf

Greenleaf (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Fuuuuuuuuck. Greeeeeeeeenleaf. They light fires, fortunately not literally, with the sheer physicality of their delivery. And I’m dying to hear what they do after 2021’s Echoes From a Mass (review here), since the longer they proceed with the current lineup of founding guitarist Tommi Holappa (also Dozer), vocalist Arvid Hällagård, bassist Hans Frölich (“everybody say hi to Hans, it’s his first time here”) and drummer Sebastian Olsson becomes more established with each passing LP and subsequent touring cycle, the latest album rife with emotive heavy blues that was neither culturally appropriated from Black American culture nor masculine caricature. As someone who’s heard a decent amount of heavy blues, this is a feat to be appreciated. They played “Bury Me My Son,” which made me feel ways, and hard-boogied from there into the stomp of “Good Ol’ Goat” followed by “Needle in My Eye,” also from the latest record and one I had kind of forgotten about. “Bound to Be Machines” from 2014’s Trails and Passes (review here), ignited a sing-along, and they jammed on it a bit, emphasizing how very badly they need to put out a live record. I stood up front for their whole set, planted my feet and ignored my aging back (I tried to write ‘aching’ there, but my phone autocorrected, and really, that’s more honest, so I’m leaving it) as they built up the start of “Tides” — Arvid noting that he’s an astronaut in the video; dude’s between-song banter was on point in a sarcasm that might’ve been too dry for some of the crowd but was twice as hilarious for that — playing that song through like the condensed epic it is and then pushing right into the finale, which was “Let it Out” from 2018’s Hear the Rivers (review here). I’d been trying not to get my hopes up for a new song in the set. That didn’t happen, but if you think I’m sad about it, you severely underestimate how much of a dork I am for this band. Hands in the air, the day’s first crowd surfer that I saw — hold onto that phone, guy — and the convincing shove from the band that made it all happen. Great fucking band.

Mondo Generator

Mondo Generator (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I haven’t heard their new record yet — it’s out in Oct. 13 and called We Stand Against You — but they played some stuff from it, and it sure does have that brain-collapsing punk-born intensity one should expect from the Nick Oliveri-fronted three-piece, with Mike Pygmie on guitar and Mike Amster (who wore a Saint Vitus Bar shirt) drumming. I saw them last summer, so knew to expect selections from the Oliveri back catalog — “13th Floor” by Queens of the Stone Age, Kyuss’ “Green Machine,” and so on — and there’s little debating he’s contributed to, not just played on, some of the most crucial heavy albums of all-time. More than two, which is not something a lot of people can say. I paused to grab a quick bite to eat — meat and cheese as I’m in survival mode and they didn’t have any spinach or other salad stuff that I saw — and to do battle once more with one of the backstage coffee makers, which I’ve now jammed twice. Because incompetence. So Oliveri, Pygmie and Amster are on stage tearing whatever track from the new record a second (or first, as it were) asshole, and I’m trying to pick which button to push and trying not to be in the way, not really successful at either. By the time that coffee was gone, I realized just how much my ears were ringing despite the plugs, so clearly SonicBlast meets whatever ‘loud enough’ quota you’ve got. “Allen’s Wrench” led into Queens’ “Millionaire,” and that was it. Where the hell would you go after that anyway?

Bombino

Bombino (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Led by the group’s namesake, Nigerian guitarist and songwriter Omara “Bombino” Moctar, they might not have been the first Tuareg jammers on the SonicBlast bill this year, but they were perhaps even more danceable, and the crowd was ready for it. Onstage as a three-piece, guitar, bass, drums, they took that nothing-too-fancy approach and unfurled sweet desert grooves without a care in the world for what heavy means or to whom. But coming through the SonicBlast P.A., the bass couldn’t help but add weight, smooth as those lines were, and when Moctar took a solo, well, you knew it. He’s had Hendrix comparisons, which is a very nice thing to say about somebody who plays guitar, and I guess in some of the held-out solo notes and brash sweeps it’s there, but the namedrop isn’t really adequate to describe what Bombino does or how it relates to the musical and political history of Niger and the rock and roll therefrom, never mind the West African roots of rock music more broadly, or reggae, jazz, blues, etc. Bombino put out a record earlier this year called Nomad that was produced by Dan Auerbach from The Black Keys, so I guess that’s something. He could shred or bounce or vibe out make the guitar run in dizzying circles, sometimes in succession, and was clearly a master of his craft. There was one sing-along early in the set that didn’t take I think mostly because of the language barrier, but they did try it twice, and they got a better result the second time, as well as again later on. I think maybe I missed it happening, but when they were done it was nighttime.

Scowl

Scowl (Photo by JJ Koczan)

A few firsts here. First Negative Approach hat I’ve seen. First cover of “99 Red Ballons.” First bit of onstage skanking. Second blacklight-responsive hair, as it happens. Scowl, from Santa Cruz, California, did OFF! proud in terms of hardcore punk, but would occasionally break into cleaner, more rock-based parts too, making them unpredictable as well as sonically volatile. I won’t pretend to be familiar, but they’ve got one record that came out before the end of the world and they accomplished the energy-change that the punkier side of SonicBlast has pulled off a couple times in the last two days, and vocalist Kat Moss shouted out Bombino from stage, which was cool, but from the noise assault before they even started, it was clear that Scowl’s would be an entirely different kind of dance party. A very fast, very angry, stomping and gnashing song was dedicated to those who feel like they don’t fit in, so while I didn’t come into their set knowing much about them, I got to learn a bit, including that stuff about their album, the singer’s name, and that they seem like nice kids who mean well. Go get ’em, you wholesome hardcore slaughterers.

Thurston Moore Group

Thurston Moore Group (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I saw Sonic Youth I’m pretty sure on the Sonic Nurse tour, and duh, they were Sonic Youth. And when it comes to Thurston Moore solo, I still have my Psychic Hearts CD from 1995 or whenever it was, and so yeah, I’m down for Thurston Moore Group’s lightly noisy, floating cosmic shoegaze exploding into blastbeats from its otherwise peaceful beginnings in “Hashish” from his 2020 album By the Fire and the subsequent “Hypno Brain.” I’m not sure what else one might expect. Between the two guitars, bass and keys, that assault was significant, but “Siren,” the 12-minute By the Fire track from whence that blast comes, has a sweet comedown on the other side of that, a subdued indie sway no more afraid to be pretty than caustic. Feedback and noise rang out as it started misting, and Moore and company dropped hints of space rock and psych fuzz along with all that ready scorch, and it seemed like by that point the band was warmed up, drumstick at the ready for guitar manipulation shenanigans that helped make Moore the kind of figure who might headline a festival like this, creating a kind of wave of noise and riding its crest to see where they might end up. The answer there os more noise, and that’s just fine. They were in and out of it for the duration, and the mist held too, never really becoming rain, thankfully, but ambient droplets on the breeze were refreshing as evening became night and the Thurston Moore Group wrapped with one more dive into noise and feedback, no less at home there than the verse they left behind. Fun moment: when I was getting food in back, I went to sit down at a table outside the trailer where you get the food and when I asked, “mind if I sit here?,” I looked up and sure enough, Thurston Moore Group band meal. I can’t confirm or deny, but the words “ah shit you’re Thurston Moore” may have left my mouth.

Frankie and the Witch Fingers

Frankie and the Witch Fingers (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Okay, so it turns out that the bassist of L.A.’s Frankie and the Witch Fingers, Nikki Pickle, was sitting in last night with Death Valley Girls, whose singer was stuck in California, and of whom she is a former member. Learning new things every day here. With guitarist/vocalists — Josh Menashe and Dylan Sizemore — flanking either side of the stage and an urgency born of mathier punk but which is most definitely not that thing, Frankie and the Witch Fingers translated some of the intensity of the hardcore acts who’ve played this far into a heavy rock context. They had some keyboard going, the occasional slowdown into a funkier groove, and they were loved by the SonicBlast crowd (it’s not their first time here), but by and large their trade was forward thrust, and while it may have appeared otherwise, they weren’t screwing around. I’ve had no fewer than eight espressos today. The one I had after dinner could’ve been nine. At their fastest, in the frenetic first part of their set, I felt like maybe that wasn’t enough. So I grabbed another and went back out front. By then the mist was becoming genuine rain. Less convenient. Frankie and the Witch Fingers shuffled back into speedier fare and I started thinking about my camera getting wet, or my phone, even, which I’ve been writing on all weekend. Might end up leaving earlier than planned, which, since it’s 12:30, is still not actually all that early, at least for me. Portugal goes late. Rock and roll. I still got to see Frankie and the Witch Fingers close with a cover of “Now I Wanna Be Your Dog,” which was fun and made sense in a mathematically extracted way.

Elder

Elder (Photo by JJ Koczan)

This is the first time I’m seeing them since they put out Innate Passage (review here) late last year, so it was a particular joy when they followed “Compendium” from 2015’s Lore (review here) with “Merged in Dreams/Ne Plus Ultra” from the new album. The space in front of both stages was full, and even though it was raining, it didn’t look like folks were in a hurry to seek shelter. Thousands of people. Jack doing backing vocals with Nick on the new stuff, Mike swapping guitar for keys, then back, that kind of groove that so much of progressive heavy has tried to emulate in the last 10 years or so but that no one’s gotten quite right or at least not at the level Elder to it. Maybe the rain lightened up. Maybe it didn’t, but standing there watching perhaps the foremost heavy band of their generation still exploring after 15 years and continuing to outdo themselves; it wasn’t the kind of thing you easily walk away from. Or walk away at all. They are exceptional. Another level. And then another. And another. And everything they do has heart, sincerity and a sense of evolution from where they’ve been in the past. It was humbling to witness. This is the biggest crowd I’ve seen them play for, and there’s not a doubt in my mind they can still push further, grow broader in sound, keep chasing whatever ideal version of their approach they’re after. At least I hope they do. I don’t have enough hyperbole for it. Closing out as they will with “Gemini,” it’s like they were up there inventing colors.

After show/next morning

I had already apologized to one of the dudes from Acid Mammoth for not seeing his set, and I’ll extend those apologies to Black Bombaim, who at least I’ve seen before. I guess next time I’m buying a camera bag it’ll be made of rubber? I don’t know. I felt bad leaving, but it was coming on 2AM and I had no trouble hearing Black Bombaim jam from my room, so at least there was that. Sounded cool from a distance.

For what I expected to be a rough day — the middle of three days is always a little adrenaline comedown as compared to the first or last — it wasn’t. I put my head down, worked, and pushed ahead, which is what you do. I was haggard by the end, but a video chat with The Patient Mrs., some sleep, a shower, some more coffee and almond butter for breakfast and I feel like a new person… who’s spent 24 of the last 48 hours having his ears blown out by the coast in Portugal. Sometimes it’s weird to realize these things.

One more day to go, and it’s a big one, as I might be prone to say about Jupiter or this or that blue supergiant star (the scale of those being completely different, both are nonetheless unfathomably huge). I’ll be ready. Thank you for reading.

Click ‘read more’ for pics, and thanks again.

Read more »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from SonicBlast 2023: Day One

Posted in Features, Reviews on August 11th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

SonicBlast Fest 2023 day 1 sq

08.10.23 – Thu. – Festival grounds

Before show

Day one. Also night one. There’s about two hours until Desert’smoke kick things off on Stage 3, but I got here early I guess basically to start writing and scope out where shade could be found. It’s not egregiously hot — I suspect the fact that the ocean is just over the large sand dune behind me has something to do with that, and the breeze is pleasant. I got a water bottle that I’ll keep all weekend barring disaster and sat down under an umbrella by one of the row of food trucks off to the side of the grounds, adjacent to the third stage.

I’ve had four espressos in about the last three hours, and so count myself as awake. There is a little cafe next to where I’m staying that has been very kind, though I think the guy running the hotel suspects I’m hiding more than one person in the room and walking back in with two tiny paper cups, which he definitely noticed, probably didn’t help my case. Nobody else, dude. Just trying to pry my eyes open.

Slept about six hours and got up, showered, grabbed coffee, finished the review of last night correcting a bunch of typos resulting from writing on my phone and no doubt missing many others. For some reason every time I try to swipe the word ‘album’ it thinks I’m talking about someone named Alvin. As you might imagine, it comes up regularly. These are the crosses to bear on a long rock and roll weekend in coastal Europe with the sun shining and the breeze blowing. To be sure, I’ve had it far worse.

Checked in on The Patient Mrs. and The Pecan to see how they were getting on, and of course they were doing just fine in the early morning at home. Today is long — I’ll still be here 12 hours from now, again barring disaster — and a quick video chat felt good to touch ground before spending the rest of the day in an ether cloud of riffs and volume. I’m curious to see how I hold up, but right now I feel pretty okay, if I can dare to say so. I’m here, which is amazing in itself.

Here’s the day:

Desert’smoke

Desert'smoke (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Groovy and spacious, Lisbon instrumental four-piece Desert’smoke eased the afternoon open with warm heavy psychedelic meandering offset by moments of heavier, riff-led roll and a bit of noisier slide guitar in the end. I wouldn’t call the sound groundbreaking, but I don’t think they’re trying to be. The material they played had character though in how smoothly it shifted from one stretch to the next, solos traded between the two guitars reaping applause along the way, and the crowd in front of the third stage was into it for more than just the shade under the tent where all sets to this point have taken place. An easy nod to get lost in, which means they’re doing it right, as 2019’s Karakum (discussed here) will attest, with some lighter touches of prog to complement the trippier aspects and the grounded riffs. If you’re the type to close your eyes at a show and figure out where the music takes you, they’d be a perfect candidate for that.

Etran de L’Aïr

Etran de L'Air (Photo by JJ Koczan)

First band on the main stage — Stage 2, as it happens, which is on the left as you walk into the festival site — and they had the crowd dancing, mixing West African and rock musics together with an emphasis in rhythmic fluidity and extra-tasteful bass working in kind with the twisting guitar and the uptempo drums. Their home country of Niger recently saw its government overthrown, which is a hell of a thing to happen while you’re on tour in Europe. But as the soon-to-be 5,000-someodd people attending SonicBlast this weekend continued to trickle in, they were greeted by an engaging presence and a reminder of the often overlooked history of African rock, and psych rock particularly. You could find room to move up front, maybe even a bit of shade if you were lucky — I have a spot near a shaded fance and even a chair to sit in while writing this, so feel like I’m risking almost too much luxury, but it’s still early in the day. And by the time they were finishing up, the place was packed. Good. I hope they get home safe.

Mythic Sunship

Mythic Sunship (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Coming from Copenhagen, instrumentalists Mythic Sunship played in the likely-coveted 4:20 slot, swapping with Death Valley Girls for some yet-unknown reason. Their 2022 LP, Light/Flux (review here), was released through Tee Pee Records, and they brought a similar purposeful-in-the-jam sensibility to the live set. Humble heavy-prog? I guess that was a thing bound to happen. After Etran de L’Aïr, they came across thicker in tone as they would, but the guitar was able to float above the sharp turns of bass and drums beneath, the two sides coming together for well-placed peaks and valleys. It was fun to watch the audience shift over to the other main stage. “Okay, everybody take 35 steps to your right!” But while they were a surprise in that timeslot, Mythic Sunship by daylight was an unabashed joy and heavy to boot — though they had me wondering if it’s weird to play in front of a giant photo of yourself projected onto a screen — with runs of less guitar woven through the songs and a sensibility able to burst into a rock riff and drive that point home, not quite shape-shifting but making transitions that not every band could while sounding sure-footed and explorational at the same time, tipping into psych here and there but with clear direction in mind. I should probably buy that CD. Maybe a couple of them. Their last song was a particular burner and you could hear cheering before they were even done.

Sasquatch

Sasquatch (Photo by JJ Koczan)

That finish was as much a lead-in as L.A.’s Sasquatch could ever hope for, and 10-minute changeovers between bands — which you can do when you have the entire set on the stage next door to load out and in and get everything set up — assures forward momentum. I had been saying hi to the Sasquatch guys earlier, and seeing guitarist/vocalist Keith Gibbs writing out the setlist, took my phone out and snapped a picture as a goof. Bad call. He got mad, grabbed his Sharpie and pieces of paper, and was gone before I could even apologize. I felt pretty bad about it, despite the assurances of bassist Jason “Cas” Casanova and drummer Craig Riggs that it was fine, he was pissed about other stuff, etc. So yeah, stupid for even adding to whatever frustration existed prior. I was just kidding around. That photo got deleted off my phone and I’m never looking to invade privacy. One more reason I’m best sitting in front of a laptop. Lesson learned. Again.

They had some technical issues that caused them to begin upwards of two minutes late, but once they started, they were every bit the force they’ve come. I don’t know how you leave a Sasquatch set not thinking of them as one of the best currently active pure heavy rock bands from America, Gibbs paying homage to guitar gods of yore and belting out new and old material with a delivery the reach of which has only grown over the 20-ish years of the band, Cas and/or Riggs backing at various points, all three locked in solid for the duration. There were not a lot of people milling around while they played. Dinner could wait, and so it did. Crowd surfing out front as they chugged Jack Daniels. A new album next year, maybe, would be a thing to look forward to. They did have new stuff in the set, a song called “This Heart is So Lonely,” and that’s always a good sign; you might recall when they were interviewed here earlier this year, they said they were recording in May. They’re the kind of band that gets people into this music in the first place. And then they (completely unnecessarily) shouted me out before “Destroyer,” said a few very nice things, which just about obliterated me, never mind floored. Thanks guys. And sorry again. We’re all heart emojis forever as far as I’m concerned. I went to the merch tent after they played and many sweaty hugs were exchanged. It’s a high bar to set but I’m gonna see if I can go the second half-plus of this day without making an ass of myself.

Crippled Black Phoenix

Crippled Black Phoenix (Photo by JJ Koczan)

It’s been so long since the last time I saw Crippled Black Phoenix, I had to stop what I was doing and look it up. You know when it was? 2019, at Roadburn (review here). So not actually terrible unless you count the fact that the span of 2020-’21 was eight years long. Still, that’s two Crippled Black Phoenix records ago; their latest is Banefyre (review here), the bleak brilliance of which made hearing it an act of emotional labor. They’re a challenging band anyway, expansive goth metal that’s all of those things and not really any of them. For an intro to one of their songs they had the same tune the ice cream truck by my house does, and there was definitely a part of me that perked up because I knew if my kid heard it she’d be chasing it down running in the middle of the street. Nope, just Crippled Black Phoenix adding atmosphere to atmosphere, as they will. I didn’t see any sad shuffle-dancing, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, and it continues to be incredible how much this band exist in their own world in terms of style, and how that manages to be true even though they have a different lineup every time I see them, this one with two keyboardists, two lead singers, three guitars, one bass, one drums, and to their credit, they were nowhere near too much, and the rhythm section stood up to the task of pushing all that weight. Tonal and existential. And I would say it was weird seeing them by daylight, but the truth is it didn’t matter. They bring their own clouds.

Spy

Spy (Photo by JJ Koczan)

A not-insignificant landing to stick, going from Crippled Black Phoenix’s ultra-brood to the darkly thrashy hardcore metal of Spy, who are the most outwardly aggressive act thus far into the fest, and who plied their wares with persistent intensity. They had a circle pit going, were nastier than Scatterbrainiac last night for residing on the same genre spectrum, and actually, the more I think about it, the more sense their place on the bill makes, and the more every band today has been up to something of their own. They finished 15 minutes early, as a hardcore band might do here, but figure if you slowed their songs down to the average speed around here, they might’ve hit the mark, temporal mechanics notwithstanding. For sure they got their point across. I don’t think anyone was arguing with the chance to grab a bite to eat, a beer and so forth, but they did well with a crowd that’s at least somewhat not their own. Sometimes you want that kind of catharsis. I ain’t arguing.

Acid King

Acid King (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Ah, Acid King. A balm for my sunburnt skin. “Mind’s Eye” from this year’s stellar Beyond Vision (review here) followed by “Coming Down From Outer Space” from 2015’s Middle of Nowhere, Center of Everywhere (discussed herereview here) and “2 Wheel Nation” from III (discussed here) a decade prior. What a starting three to leave you on the doorstep of “Electric Machine” from the stoner rock omega that is 1999’s Busse Woods (featured herediscussed here) tone dense enough that you could feel the ground shake. Founding guitarist/vocalist Lori S. is joined by the ace-in-sleeve rhythm section of bassist/synthesist Bryce Shelton and drummer Jason Willer, who also played on the latest record, and it was my first time seeing this lineup but they sounded incredible. And as much as Acid King are considered a legendary band in underground heavy, I don’t think they get nearly enough credit for the lessons in grooves, riffs and the ability of a song to be outrageously heavy and still laid back, mellow. “Destination Psych” into “Beyond Vision” into “Color Trails.” That’s a fucking jam. Look. If you wanna pick favorites, Acid King are high on my list and as far as I’m concerned, stoner rock doesn’t exist without them. AND they’re growing as a band after three decades since starting out. There’s not a lot of bands I could listen to any time, regardless of mood or circumstance, but Acid King are always more than welcome in my ears. And with the kind of volume they had at SonicBlast, only more so. It was full across both stages, and they brought the sun down. Glorious.

Death Valley Girls

Death Valley Girls (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Second band of the day from Los Angeles. Planet Earth is weird. Death Valley Girls took off running at the outset and only really stopped to say thanks and how strange it was for them since their normal singer was stuck in L.A. unless I completely misinterpreted what they were saying between songs, which is possible because I’m old and have hearing damage. I’m not sure the crowd knew the difference. I wouldn’t have if they’d said anything. Nothing seemed missing from their arrangements, with vocals handled by their bassist and another singer with a floor tom — which I wholly support; more floor toms, and I’m not being sarcastic — and they weren’t any looser than their heavy garage psych meets ’90s alt rock vibe warranted. Mostly uptempo but not rushed sounding, they seemed to dare toward fun in a made it almost too perfect they were playing the same day as Crippled Black Phoenix — one of whose six-stringers had an explicit ‘no fun’ sticker on the body of his guitar — and that went over well. I don’t know how familiar the crowd was generally, but I didn’t know them and whatever their situation was lineup-wise that perhaps was the reason why they switched slots with Mythic Sunship, they acquitted themselves well. I’d check out a record, gladly.

OFF!

OFF (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I was neither cool enough nor the right kind of uncool enough to be a punker, but even I know who the fuck Keith Morris is, and he’s my favorite of the various singers Black Flag had during their original run. The First Four Years, man. Their moniker taken from yet another brand of bug repellant, OFF! is Morris (lest we forget to mention Circle Jerks), guitarist Dimitri Coats, bassist Autry Fulbright II and drummer Justin Brown, and the crowd was packed in front of the stage 20 minutes before they went on, buzzing. I had gone to get coffee, and that turned out to be well timed ahead of their set, which made traditionalist hardcore punk sound new in a seemingly impossible way. They put out their first record in eight years (their fourth overall), Free LSD, in 2022, and they’re at the top of the bill tonight to support it, though not playing last by any stretch. They were unipolar in their manic push and gallop, and Morris was very much at the center of the circus. I don’t own an OFF! record and I’m not sure I’ve ever written about them since their inception in 2010 (I checked that and it’s true save for the announcement they were playing here), but having now seen them, I’m glad I did, which puts me in decent company I think with just about everyone here. Stripped down as it would have to be, but holy shit that’s loud.

Hällas

Hällas (Photo by JJ Koczan)

This was my second time seeing Hällas in about two months, so safe to say their futurist space progressive rock was fresh in mind. They had been warmly welcomed at Freak Valley (review here) and were perhaps more so here, with the crowd at the front of the barricade singing along, fist-pumping and so on. Riffs a-blazin’, keyboard with that gorgeous proggy krautrock sound that’s 50 years old and still ‘The Sound of Tomorrow!’ (to be read in a big booming voice), they were on, though to be honest, this is the third time I’ve caught them live and I’ve never come away disappointed. Are they likely to take over the world with their theatrical heavy space whatnot? Probably no. But in another abrupt aesthetic shift, they followed OFF!’s set with textures and a presence that was no less their own. I think I might like this band. Anything but that! Not another band! Nonetheless, they’ve been at this for at least 12 years now, so while they’re a young band in my head, they’re ab established band, and it seems like maybe it’s time for me to dig into their records for really real and see where I finally stand. 2022’s Isle of Wisdom a good place to start? Guess I’ll find out. I remembered “Star Rider,” which is on their first LP, so that’s something. I’ll figure it out. Party like it’s 1975. I swear I saw meteors steak the sky when they were done. Conjure the perseids.

Kadavar

Kadavar (Photo by JJ Koczan)

It’s been a very long tone (really) since I saw Kadavar last. Three or four records, like. The Berlin-based classic heavy rockers — who in the interim have put themselves on the path to become a classic band as well — added second guitarist and backing vocalist Jascha Kreft to become a four-piece, and hearing them play older songs like “All Our Thoughts” or even “Die, Baby, Die” from 2017’s For the Dead Travel Fast (review here) — I guess it’s all pre-lineup change since it’s not like they’ve done a record since March when Kreft’s joining was announced — but you could hear the difference this six added strings were making in the fullness of their sound, Kreft on a long riser with drummer Tiger while guitarist/vocalist Lupus Lindemann and bassist Simon “Dragon” Bouteloup held it down on the stage, swing and strut to spare. What songwriters they are. Here’s a Kadavar track you haven’t heard in about six years. No worries, you’ll remember it. Their sound has expanded since their early days of vintage worship, but no matter where they go, they bring the songs with them. And with Kreft serving keyboard/synth and backing vocal duties as well, they’ll likely keep growing. That ethic, the memorable craft, the not-tired-of-it-yet performance from all of them; it makes it easy to see them as one of the best heavy rock bands of their generation, with a legacy carved in stone and a refusal to stagnate that exists alongside an ability to blast out “Doomsday Machine” near the end of the set like they just wrote it. Bands like this don’t happen all the time. I already knew I let it go too long without catching a show, so that wasn’t news, but I’m glad as hell not to have missed this one.

Deathchant

Deathchant (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Amp blew in the first song. Maybe second. Early, either way, but they kept it going, got a new head and before much real-time had passed, Deathchant (the day’s third and final L.A. band) were ripping anew with their gritted-up dual-guitar/dual-vocal NWOBHM proselytizing. I won’t lie to you and say I stayed the whole time. It was getting on 2AM and I still had work to do writing and sorting photos, but rest assured they were loud enough that as I walked up toward the beach and off the fest grounds to make my way back to the hotel, I had the urge to put my earplugs back in. I probably should have, but was distracted as I walked out of the light and realized the sky I was standing beneath. To look up and see the Milky Way bifurcating a night’s stars that I don’t know, with the resonant low frequency wub of Deathchant behind me and the illusion of privacy in that very dark little stretch of beach between one boardwalk and the next, separated from everything I might’ve screwed up today and everything I didn’t. Me, neck craned to the cosmos above, riffs echoing in the distance. The only part that was weird was that it was real and I was living it. While Deathchant were kicking plenty of ass and leaving a mark in that regard, I think I’ll probably always associate them with that minute, maybe two, of my existence. Something they were part of that they’ll probably never know about. It’s quite a galaxy.

Back to the day’s various successes and failures. I failed at food. Had like three forks of the almond butter I brought from home (not mine; store bought; still good) before going to the fest and more when I got back to the room and that was it. On every level, the wrong choice, and it didn’t really feel like it was one. I’m doing my best.

Success? The day, really. I met more super-nice people, and apart from the misunderstanding with Gibbs from Sasquatch, I think I managed to go the entire 12-hour shift without directly alienating anybody. Maybe. And even that got worked out. I had my sunglasses on. He didn’t know it was me. Indeed, other shit going on. Sometimes you get wound tight and it doesn’t take much to set you off. I felt bad. I still do, but that’s how I roll. But it was a great day. I even saw the Ruff Majik guys again for a bit. They’re staying in the same place I am.

I also took over 1,300 pictures today, which I have to think I might not do if I was a better photographer. Ha. Anyhow, some of those will end up at the bottom here, but I’m not even going to start sorting them tonight because I’m so god damned tired. Good night, thanks for reading and, I promise before this is posted there will be more pics after the jump.

Read more »

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Dispatch from SonicBlast 2023: The Pre-Show

Posted in Features, Reviews on August 10th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

SonicBlast Fest 2023 preshow

08.09.23 – Wed. – Festival site

Before show

Good to know I started this coverage off yesterday by getting the day wrong in the header. It’s Wednesday now. That was Tuesday. Like a fine-toothed comb, my editorial eye.

Shade is at a premium in Âncora as Ruff Majik soundcheck. “All You Need is Speed,” “Mourning Wood,” and so on. I was hoping to get here to see that, and I trekked from the hotel where I’m staying across the beach with the Atlantic Ocean on what felt to me like the wrong side to get here. It’s beautiful. Sand in the sneakers. Families playing in tide pools. The odd tom check ringing out into the ether. I’m on a bench by a couple of the food stalls. Still need to go backstage if I can and get a bottle of water since the one I had from the airport was too big to fit in my new bag. I already met Mariana from High Priestess. And I took a nap before I came, so I was almost coherent, if it of breath from the walk up and over the dunes to the grounds here. Mariana said she followed the river. Might try giving that a shot on the way back.

It’s calm here, which beats pacing back and forth in the room being anxious for the show to start. Tonight is the pre-show, with four bands and a DJ set from the poster/cover artist Branca Studio. I don’t know how long for it I am, as it goes to almost half-past 3AM and I feel like I got hit by a truck, but fun will be had or the beatings will continue. Or something like that.

Doors aren’t open yet, but sooner or later. Nonetheless, here’s how the evening unfolded in front of the smaller Stage 3 while the two main stages loomed off to the left like giant sleeping tortoises:

Plastic Woods

Plastic Woods (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Plastic Woods asked before I think the third song, “Who wants some fucking doom?” And then they delivered on that promise with a stonerly roll duly thick and at a slower tempo than the frenetic boogie of their opening (the fest) salvo. Andalusion power trio (with an asterisk), and a powerful sound. I knew next to nothing about them before they went on — to wit, I knew they were playing — but you go into these things with a certain sense of adventure and finding a band you didn’t know about and want to hear more from is the best-case outcome from that. Then they broke out the flute, and grooved Tull-y for a bit before launching into the next largesse-bent riffer plod and then breaking out an acoustic to add shuffle to a classic rocker. A lot there to like — a lot there period; one might call them stylistically restless, in and out of the bounds of heavy — and they’re young, so they played like it even when they threw in a handful of sudden-stop jazz skronk chops, giving SonicBlast a surprising, eclectic and energetic launch from which the entire weekend can only benefit. All over the place but cohesive, plus flamenco vocals, guitar and even a bit of dancing. Will not be the opener forever. I bought 2021’s Dragonfruit on CD, will probably close a week with it at some point. I can’t wait to dig in and to follow them and see the band they become, because at least based on this first impression, they could grow into something very special.

Ruff Majik

Ruff Majik (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Easily one of my most anticipated bands of the entire weekend, and this year’s Elektrik Ram (review here) — which I put on during the flight over here because, well, it had been a couple days — is a huge part of why. “Rave to the Grave,” “She’s Still a Goth,” “Delirium Tremors” and “Hillbilly Fight Song” mixed in among “All You Need is Speed,” “Jolly Rodger,” “Gregory,” “Lead Pills and Thrills” and “Swine Tooth Grin” from 2020’s The Devil’s Cattle (review here) and the deep cut “Wax Wizard” from their 2016 EP, The Fox, for a more rolling, jammier vibe. Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded if they did the new record in full, but the older grooves were a treat and a reminder to my brain very much consumed by their latest work — Elektrik Ram is my most listened to album of the year so far, no question — that their other stuff is righteous as all hell too. I tried to stay up front after taking pictures but there wasn’t even room to get into the crowd, which is fair because people have been telling me all day about their show at SonicBlast 2018. I ran into Johni Holiday and Jimmy Glass earlier and got to hang out a bit. They drove 27 hours to be here, after a 12-hour flight from South Africa to wherever they played first in Germany. Marauders, they are. They had strobes going hard for most of their set, completing the multi-sensory blowout. I’m willing to admit it probably would’ve taken some effort on their part for me to be left cold, but that they actually killed was a bonus. Some of the best 45 minutes I’ve spent in 2023. I’d say they should come play the States, but outside the odd festival — lookin’ hard at you, Monolith on the Mesa and/or Desertfest NYC 2024 — I’d have to wonder if my home country is ready for that. West Coast, probably. Their time finished with a sing-along to the slower riff at the end of “Delirium Tremors,” which the crowd kept going after they stopped. They earned that.

Scatterbrainiac

Scatterbrainiac (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Classic-style heavy hardcore punk, which is reasonable ground for a fest to cover that counts OFF! among its headliners. Not my thing, but they’re local-ish being from Porto — I fell asleep on the ride from the airport, but it wasn’t so far; I was basically falling asleep anyway by noon — and had the crowd that was hanging out igniting a circle mosh near the front of the stage. They tore it up, but I find I don’t have much more than that kind of generic praise, as I lack the background to know which specific root influences they’re working from — though the singer has a Black Flag tattoo on his wrist, and that’s definitely relevant to the discussion — but tonight seems to be all about having a good time, lineup-wise, and Scatterbrainiac delivered hard without taking away from that. I probably won’t buy the record, but they were up there putting the work in to do it right, and I can respect that in just about any situation, regardless of style.

After show/next morning

Nagasaki Sunrise were closing out with the aforementioned Branca Studio DJ set after, but headed toward 1AM, my ability to withstand WWII-themed d-beat declines sharply, plus I had the walk back to the hotel ahead of me, so I chickened out. Lame, I know, but Deathchant are slated for 1:35AM tomorrow and if I want to see any of it, that means planning ahead. I’ll take being lame now as a trade for being cool later.

It ended up not really mattering, since I could hear the band just fine on my excursion back across the boardwalk and on the beach at night, phone flashlight shining, and from my room I got to listen to the Branca DJ set which started off with Witchcraft and plunged from there into heavy ’70s and stoner glories of various stripes. “Sunrise (Come My Way)” by Buffalo, always a standout, and no less so circa 3AM bleeding through the window as I crawled into bed as one lost in the desert might crawl toward water. Also water. Need more water.

Because apparently I made it a thing — whoops; thanks for nothing, honesty — I’ll note that I did so, so, so much socializing today, and it was alright. Enjoyable even. I met people I’ve known on social media and various characters from the Euro underground — Stoner Johnny, Roberto Lucas of Denpa Fuzz, Tom Van de Sande who was keeping calm during Ruff Majik’s set and who DJ’ed at Freak Valley this year, Claire from Purple Sage PR whom I’ve not seen in an actual decade but to whom I speak at least three times a week, Berto from Spinda Records, Ricardo who runs the fest, the one and only Scott “Dr. Space” Heller, plus Johni and Jimmy from Ruff Majik whose friendship and ease in each other’s presence transcends the band and is indicative of a lifelong partnership, Diogo Miguel who has sent me awesome music, a couple dudes from Monarch (who play Friday), a photog named Daniel who said very nice things about the site in the photo pit, Mariana from High Priestess and fuggin’ Vape Warlök both of whom should have new music manifest soon, on and on. The proverbial butterfly, me.

And that was exhausting as only that kind of thing can be when you’re as out of practice as I am — most of the talking I do in a day is to my kid — everybody has been kind and generous and in addition to the perfect weather, the warmth of the welcome I’ve received has only underscored how fortunate I am to be here.

Thanks for reading. The fest-proper begins in a few hours and today, tomorrow and Saturday are a full-on assault. I’ll spend a lot of time writing on my phone and taking pictures, and the resulting posts will hopefully look like this in their basic structure. Stay tuned for more to come, I suppose. And thanks again.

More pics after the jump.

Read more »

Tags: , , , , , , ,