Notes From Desertfest New York 2022: Night 2 at the Knockdown Center
Posted in Reviews on May 15th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
When it comes to festival survival, the value of being able to take a shower in your own shower is not to be understated. I wanted to scrub myself with dish detergent just to cut through all that rock and roll greasiness. Alas, resisted the impulse. Still, your own water, soap, toothpaste, towel? These are luxuries not everyone gets to enjoy at an event like this, and which, most of the time, I don’t either.
The tradeoff is commuting to NYC four days in a row, but whatever. The ride today was easy enough, and the ride home last night was bearable even with traffic because the lower level of the GW was closed. There need to be at least three more Hudson River crossings from the Jersey side, though I think you’d have to level Weehawken to make that happen. Eminent domain.
Second day of the fest proper. I’m hanging in. Ground myself macadamia nut butter for the car ride, had a protein bar this morning. Saw a wonderful bunch of people yesterday and expect the same tonight; such are the comings and goings. A boost of energy from that. I was beat to crap by the time C.O.C. went on though, and managed about five decent hours of sleep once I got home, a little after 1AM. You get what you can get when you can get it. Showing up early today, I got to watch WarHorse soundcheck, and that was a win, as I expect much of the day will be. Doors are in an hour.
Green Druid
A fresh take on atmospheric sludge that, when they decide it’s time to slow it down, is god damned brutal. It’s easier to get a handle on where they’re coming from live than on record, big crash, big lurch, plenty of creeper vibes, but delivered with an element of rawest-style post-metal. Low end is ferocious with bass and two guitars and the vocals swapping between cleaner singing and harsher screams is arranged more creatively to suit the mood. Quick set, but they made a positive impression on an already-warm room and for a day that’s more about weight and extremity at least in parts than was yesterday, they seemed to be just right in terms of bridging worlds. If you need me I’ll be at the merch stand. So long as there’s no cartoon boobs, I’m all over it. [Actually, turned out I barely looked at the shirt before I bought it. It’s got a big ol’ bong on it. Probably won’t wear it much, but screw it, gave the band some money. Gas ain’t cheap.]
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WarHorse
I like to think of WarHorse playing 20 years ago and clearing out rooms of people who just don’t get it. As they are now, they manage to be both devastatingly heavy and a good time. You can tell watching them that they’re having fun playing the songs, and while their sound remains utterly miserable and Jerry Orne’s gurgle is as guttural as ever, he and Terry Savastano are into it immediately while Mike Hubbard lays suitable waste behind them. For a reunion that started kind of casually, not a ton of hype around it, WarHorse have become a force. They were one before, obviously, but the appetite for such things has clearly changed in the last two-plus decades. I don’t know what label I’d put them on — Profound Lore? Season of Mist? — but they sound like a band too dead on in their game not to put out new material. I love watching wretched sounding metal played with a smile. Also with a grimace.
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Somnuri
Nothing follows slow-brutal-fun like periodically-thrashz-fast-brutal-fun, and I’ll tell you, that thrash with a ‘z’ was a typo but I’m leaving it because fuck it, it works. Like Green Druid, they change it up arrangement-wise, but their take is more directly lethal, and they manage the balance between heavy tones and rip-face thrust well on stage. Justin Sherrell is stupid talented. They got a new bassist since the last time I saw them, but so it goes. Last summer’s Nefarious Wave full-length has held up, and frankly it deserves every airing it gets. I seem to recall they did a tour for it earlier this year, and they opened one of the YOB shows at the Saint Vitus Bar — not the one I saw, but still — their stuff is a rager unto itself and the latest incarnation of the regional penchant for creative confrontationalism that once birthed Hull. That’s good company to keep as far as I’m concerned. The fog machine was rolling and the riffs were bludgeoning breakdown-style and offset by ambient stretches like a seething just waiting to explode. Like me on the George Washington Bridge last night at 12:30. Their version of that feeling is better.
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Cloakroom
Not a band I knew a ton about prior to their taking the stage, but they were a big swap-out in mood from Somnuri and the fact that they carried their shoegaze-informed take on heavy across so well and so immediately transformed the spirit of the big room after WarHorse is much to their credit. I’ll admit that I didn’t stay probably as long as I should have because I knew I wanted to be up front for Brume, but their roll was like a deep, fresh, cool breath and watching them I got shades of early Jesu and newer Elephant Tree both — neither of whom I imagine they sound like on record, but that’s where my brain went; I heard tell later that the guitarist is a big Weezer fan, which makes as much sense as anything — and there’s nothing but to dig about that. True to their style, they were pretty subdued on stage for the most part, but their combination of depth of tone, volume and melody made them immersive in a way that no one else up to this point has been. Five years from now, when I’m probably sweating everything they do like the Johnny Comelately poseur I am, I’ll probably brag about having seen them at Desertfest.
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Brume
There have been and still are a lot of bands I want to see this weekend, but Brume were my most eagerly anticipated. They offer something that nobody else on this bill does in the same way, and the spaces they create with their material are incredible. I was right to look forward to it. I ended up taking pictures blah blah and then just stayed up front for all but about the last two minutes of the set, and goodness gracious I’m glad I did. The addition of Jackie Perez-Gratz on cello and a couple backing vocal spots puts them in another echelon. Put out another record already. [Edit: I talked to them later in the night and told them I wanted to hear it finished by Tuesday; they said they needed a deadline.] The stage energy was surreal and I did, I just planted myself up front and that was it. Every bit what I hoped their set would be and when I went over to the main room for the start of Inter Arma, I was annoyed with myself for not seeing the last 30 seconds or whatever it was of Brume. Yeah, I know how the song ends, but still. At least I can take comfort in knowing what’s in store for next time. Back to Rabbits I go until then.
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Inter Arma
Like, six dudes? Yeah, I think six. Could’ve been 40, they were so intense. Fucking death metal. Inter Arma’s Sulphur English was so widely hailed it actually got annoying, but they brought that chug and death stomp to the stage with all due brutality and then just a little extra on top. First theremin of the weekend, which is always a good sighting, but the core of the band is the fact that they’re punishingly extreme and still manage to evoke some presence beyond that in their sound. I was more into it than I expected to be, especially coming off Brume, but there was no real question about their intention from the start, and it was a reminder that I actually enjoy death metal even if it’s not what I always write about. But even in that sphere they’re a legit creative band with less genre-strictness than many, and that’s a thing to be respected. I don’t reach for their stuff all the time, and I don’t think I’ve seen them since their first record, but they were killer.
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Yatra
Yatra are a death metal band. They started out as kind of a deathly sludge act and have leaned decidedly into the more teeth-gnashing side of their approach. Their new album is their first for Prosthetic, which is a good fit for them label-wise since that’s where metal bands go who do more than one thing, and they played the title-track “Born Into Chaos.” I’ll confess I haven’t really dug into the record yet — I think the promo came in my email on Thursday? — but their last one wasn’t exactly subtle about the course they were setting and that’s just fine. They can play here, they can play Maryland Deathfest, they can play a kid’s backyard birthday party and get arrested, whatever. Let them be the death metal band who heavy rockers are into, or at least one of a very select few. It’s gotta be somebody, and the more direct route to aural decapitation suits them. Only surprised there was no mosh, even when the blastbeats started.
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King Buffalo
What catharsis. I feel like I’ve been waiting the whole pandemic to see King Buffalo again. Admittedly, there have been opportunities in the last year as they’ve gotten back out, so it’s me, but to finally be in the same space as these songs. They opened with “Silverfish.” That’s the whole story. What more do you need than that? This trilogy of albums, The Burden of Restlessness, Acheron, and the third to come, are a fucking document of this era and if you don’t realize how fortunate you are that this band is doing this work right now, you’re missing it. You’re fucking up. It’s not too late. I was all set to go watch Silvertomb, who I hear do Type O Negative songs too and that’s great, but King Buffalo started to play “Orion” and I knew that if I moved I’d regret it no matter what. Then they break out “Loam?” Come on. Where in earth could you possibly need to be more than you need to be here? Huh? King Buffalo stand among the best and most forward thinking heavy psych bands of their generation and there’s nothing to make me think their best work isn’t ahead of them. Bands like this don’t happen all the time. This. Is. A. Special. Band. Tell your friends. Shit, tell your mom. She’ll be into it. You know how good it was? It was so good that I just stood there and enjoyed it.
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Silvertomb
Somebody’s going home with covid tonight. Kenny Hickey. He called it a rite of passage. Maybe it is. He also called the crowd a bunch of potheads, which is fair considering the smell in the room right now. I was late to the start of the set, but managed to finagle my way around the side to catch what remained. Of course the relation to Type O Negative gives a nostalgic feel. Hearing Kenny Hickey sing brings back fond memories, but also in reminded of a time when no less than 80 percent of the metal bands in Brooklyn sounded like this, about 20 years ago. Getting to see a guy who was in no small part responsible for that — especially on the last two Type O records, both of which I continue to love — is probably enough of an appeal to earn Silvertomb the spot on the bill, honestly, but they also rocked. I whiffed completely on their last album, but had checked out the one before. Kenny teased an “Oh Darling” cover on acoustic guitar, which might’ve been fun, but no dice.
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Torche
Impossible to watch them play and remove it from the context of Steve Brooks announcing on Thursday that he’s done in the band after their Fall tour with Meshuggah. Still don’t know if that means the band are done, but they played as trio, owing to Jon Nunez getting covid. So it goes. They did “Mentor,” and they did Floor’s “Iron Girl,” and they closed with “Tarpit Carnivore,” is if this is the last time I ever see them play, I can’t possibly feel like Torche owe me anything. For them, there was a pit. And yeah, that makes sense. I put myself in the crowd to watch, and there were some laughs, some fuckups, and so on. It was not the tightest Torche set I’ve ever witnessed — have I ever told you about the time I saw Torche and Black Cobra circa ’06 in a shoe museum in Los Angeles? yes? well anyway they rocked the shit out of that footwear and the lucky several individuals who happened to be in attendance — but it’s hard not to be in a good mood when they play regardless of the circumstance. Bomb string, man. Maybe they’ll get back together at some point in some incarnation. Isn’t that what bands do at this point? A six-week hiatus? That’d be fine. Not that they owe it or anything.
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Baroness
I’ve never successfully managed to get on board with Baroness. I’ve tried — I promise, I have — but it just hasn’t happened. Even knowing this, and knowing there’s a good lot of modern heavy that has operated and continues to operate under their direct influence, I did my best to keep an open mind and try to catch the vibe. And I think I succeeded in that at least to some extent. They’re like Rush. You listen to Rush, and a whole lot of other bands across a bunch of different styles start to make sense. Baroness engage with a lot of different forms of rock and heavy music, metal, punk, prog and so on, and they’ve turned it into their own thing. I might not dig it, but I’m not going to rag on them either because what they’ve accomplished is significant even before you get to what they sound like, their massive, won-the-hard-way chemistry as players, their attention to presentation (a setlist with lighting instructions being just one example), or their stage presence. In many respects, they are the quintessential headliner. So, they headlined.
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Other Random Observations:
– I don’t think I’d be a very good bartender, and for someone who’s spent so much of his life daydreaming about opening a venue, I’ve considered it a fair amount.
– On the other hand, someone drove through with a forklift before doors and that looked like good fun.
– Tried not to be starstruck when Jackie Perez-Gratz walked past me wheeling her cello in its case. Did it work? Maybe. Still gonna put on Grayceon’s All We Destroy on the way home.
– Can hear the Morbid Angel influence both in Yatra and Inter Arma. Ties them together in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
– Wow.
– Slower start to the day in terms of crowd, but it filled up. The party must’ve gone late last night.
– Again, folks be inebriated. Guess it’s Saturday. Get home safe.
– That macadamia nut butter may have saved my life.
More pics after the jump.
