It was raining last night when I left the Knockdown Center. Pouring, actually. I had parked in the venue’s lot, which I may or may not be allowed to do, but no one said no, so there it is. Two cars were parked in tight formation behind me and on either side.

Got that picture? Looking at it from above, you had two cards that were like the top of a Y, but straight, and I was the bottom. I walked out behind two dudes and asked them for the massive favor of guiding me out of that spot, which they did, in the rain. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Completely above and beyond. They stood there in the rain and made sure I got out without hitting either of the other cars. If it was you, and you’re reading this, get in touch, because I can’t even tell you how much that meant to me. Nothing says community more than shit like that.

Slept an extra hour or so this morning, though my body still thinks 6:30 is sleeping in even though it was nearly 2AM by the time I went to bed. Coffee, shower, shave the nascent neckbeard, water, protein bar, try to feel human. As refreshing as it’s been to live music for a couple full days, I don’t feel out of line saying I’m exhausted and will appreciate the earlier finish tonight. I finished the macadamia butter yesterday, but ground up a bunch of hazelnuts and brought that in some tupperware for the car, had a few bites on the way in. Life-giving. No salt, no nothing. Just dry roasted nuts, smoother than not — enough to bring out the oil — but still with a bit of natural texture. Beautiful.

It’s summer today. Sun’s out, it’s hot, and I’m sitting outside at the Knockdown Center by the food trucks, kind of half in the shade. I managed yesterday to hydrate really well. Today that will be even more important. I woke up this morning with a sorer throat than I expected, gave myself two covid home tests, both decidedly negative. Nice to know for sure.

Doors in about 20 minutes, first band an hour after that.

Greenbeard

This might be the perfect weather for a Greenbeard show. Sun’s out, it’s warm and humid enough to sweat but not totally overbearing, and up from Austin, the four-piece were an immediate rager. Their new record has a good mix of melodic and harder-driving stuff, riff-led but branching out in the way of desert-style heavy and soul, and they brought some of that to what was a pretty quick set, but along the way had time to list “some of their favorite things” in “Don’t Get Too Desperate,” including queso in a list that would do “Feel Good Hit of the Summer” proud. The party vibe was immediate, really even before they went on, but when they hit it, there was no warmup, no give-it-a-minute-and-see-where-it-goes. Greenbeard play heavy rock and roll like it’s this crazy new thing they just made up and you need to hear it right now. And it felt good to recognize songs from their new album, Variant, even if they were considerably rawer live.

—

Left Lane Cruiser

Other than a few basic factoids like they’re signed to Alive Records and they’re from Indiana and having seen their name around a bunch, I knew very little going into Left Lane Cruiser’s set. I expected bluesy, given the chair on stage and the low drums. Washboard, slide guitar, dude rambling between songs most unintelligible. So yes, bluesy, in a hard-boogie kind of way. Fiery energy, light on frills but with a marked lean into cultural appropriation. Maybe just not my thing, but I felt like guitarist/vocalist Fredrick “Joe” Evans IV laid on the Bayou banter a little thick. Wabba dabba baggle clabby. They hit it though, and I’ll give respect to both the energy and the washboard, which was soon enough used to crash through cymbals on the drum kit. It was what it was, and maybe I’ve got race on my mind because of that terrorist shooting in Buffalo, but for as much as they burned, I was left kind of cold. It’s a packed weekend. They aren’t all going to resonate.

—

Mother Iron Horse

These guys jumped from Electric Valley Records to Ripple Music for last year’s ‘Under the Blood Moon,’ and very much compatriot to Leather Lung in my mind perhaps because I saw the two together in 2019 at the much-missed Ode to Doom in Manhattan. Maybe they’re friends. Maybe they hang out on weekends, I don’t know. Even their soundcheck drew people in though, and that crowd did not dissipate when the actual set started. The band plays both kind of music, sludge and rock, and they’re unrepentant in their aggression. They made it easy though to get down with that in the side room, which grew more and more crowded as the set went on, until, finally, the heat reminded me that I very much needed to refill my water bottle. They introduced themselves though by saying, “We’re Mother Iron Horse and a woman’s body is her own fucking business.” Both true, even if the latter was less immediately relevant to the set. I have to think Samuel Alito probably wouldn’t get it had he shown up for Desertfest, but fuck him anyway. Good to know where Mother Iron Horse stand though, and more heavy bands need to be unafraid to say shit like that.

—

Big Business

On the other hand, Big Business started their set by asking who was ready for a pizza party. Duh, everyone. A very West Coast foreshadow of Red Fang to come. I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw Big Business live, but it was probably a Melvins show, if that gives you a general idea. Jared and Coady — which I call them because they’re buds; we talk sometimes, and no that is not at all true — have their thing, and they’re veterans, and they played like it. I was dragging ass, admittedly, but I don’t think I’ve heard Big Business in the last decade and not felt like I need to listen to them more. Today is no different, and thinking of bands who came up around the same time in the early to mid ’00s, they’ve held up better than many and remained true to their ethic. You got an awesome bassist and an awesome drummer and if the central thesis is that’s all you need, well, there are probably a few two-guitar acts in this lineup who’d argue, but I wouldn’t, especially not after watching them play. Good band. Maybe a bit taken for granted, but they’ve only busted their ass for the last 20 years.

—

Stinking Lizaveta

The band I was most looking forward to today. Knew what I was getting, have seen them on multiple prior occasions, and was still astonished. They played as a four-piece with Paul Webb on second guitar, which let Yanni Papadopoulos shred and bounce and move wherever the very precise plan that’s in a language no one else quite understands called for him to go. They’re instrumental, but he, bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta all got on mic at some point between songs. Beyond that, the only vocals were through Yanni’s pickups and various woops and shouts while they played, and they were unreal. Radiating joy all the while, they proceeded to shred common concepts like what’s a song and which way is up and who’s rock and roll anyhow like they were so much fog from the smoke machine, each of them a genuine hero on their instrument and so tight together and so dynamic that each change brought new wonders. The word is unfuckwithable, and that is what they are. Not a single second was misspent, and they were so fucking good and their energy was so infectious that by the time they were done I wasn’t even tired anymore.

—

Dead Meadow

Feels wrong to think of Dead Meadow as the kings of mellow psych, if only because I doubt mellow psych is a monarchy. Whatever system of government the genre might be and whether you tag them as shoegaze or heavy psych or drift psych or anything else that might apply to a given languid measure, they’re masters of it. They eased their way into the proceedings with a jam and had some sound issues — bass cut out early, was fixed quickly — but they got into it with their trademark style, a kind of fascinated serenity set to groove. It’s still daylight, which feels weird somehow, and the weather remains gorgeous, but the crowd filed in once they got going and it was dead quiet in between the songs (after the applause, etc.) as those in front of the stage eagerly awaited the next dose of sweet fuzz that would emanate from it. Another act who’ve stood time’s test by understanding who they are and what they want to do in stage and in their songwriting. Mostly they want you to chill the hell out. And to aid in that cause, Dead Meadow are totally willing to close with “Sleepy Silver Door,” which is only right and proper. A band you always expect to be kind of a wreck based on how they sound but who are sneaky reliable. And oh, that jam…

—

High Reeper

If the phrase “fucking a” was a band, it’d be High Reeper. My first time seeing them live, and they were nastier than on their records but that’s certainly not a problem at this point in the weekend. A good kick in the ass is certainly justified. Crazy one two three to this part of the day, with Stinking Lizaveta, Dead Meadow and High Reeper, who play heavy rock but have a metal middle finger in the air just the same. Hot and humid in that room even with the door open and that suited High Reeper well, as one of my earplugs came partway out and the result was immediately painful. They’re of a whole cohort on Heavy Psych Sounds — see also: Duel, maybe Hippie Death Cult who signed around the same time — and you can hear their point of view taking shape in their sound. That is to say, it has taken shape and while “refine” isn’t the right word for something so brazen, after seeing them I’m left with no doubt they’ll continue to push themselves deeper into the emergent definition of their approach. If Greenbeard were the party — and they were — then High Reeper were the fight that breaks out after everyone is smashed.

—

Red Fang

Two and a half pandemic years later, you can still set your watch by Red Fang’s ability to kick ass. They launched their set with a barrage from across multiple albums and even when they “settled” into it they were explosive. Like Torche, High on Fire still to come, like Big Business earlier, this is an established act, professional, and they put on a professional show. They played “Number Thirteen,” which even with “Wires” and the requisite closer “Prehistoric Dog” would’ve been enough for me on its own, and the place went off. Of course it did. Not at all a surprise, but a definite reaffirmation of their place, which has always been on a stage. I don’t mind telling you that on an existential level, I am very much feeling the early finish tonight, but even so, having Red Fang on right before High on Fire on the main stage makes sense in a way the world hasn’t made sense in what feels like even longer than it actually has been. They’re a band that indoctrinated people into this sound in the first place, and as veterans, they reminded me at least of what a force they can be at their best.

—

Telekinetic Yeti

Oh my. You like tone? Telekinetic Yeti has some tone, and I’m fairly certain it was coming through three Orange full stacks. Statistically significant weight in those riffs. Obviously that’s the idea, and the Midwestern duo, who had an ugly split after their first record that seems to have abated with the addition of a new drummer, play it chunky style. They’re signed to Tee Pee, so there’s a New York connection, and they brought flood lights to counter the encroaching night. I’ve heard a lot of heavy shit this weekend — a lot — but beyond Torche’s bomb string, I’m not sure there’s much to stand up to Telekinetic Yeti in terms of sheer heft. Gonna need a forklift for those riffs, bro. New album in July will be one to dig into. If they managed to capture half of what they used to fill that side room for their headlining spot, it’ll be the kind of thing that’ll blow your speakers. “Stoned & Feathered,” man. Frickin’ “Abominable.” Goodness.

—

High on Fire

There is likely no hyperbole left that has not been said at some point in their more-than-20-year career. They are a juggernaut, they are marauders, they are both the unstoppable force and the immovable object. They are the single axe swing that takes your head off clean, first time. Speaking of first time, I’d yet to see them with Coady Willis on drums. I was always a Des Kensel fan. Dude had a style of play that was all his own. Willis, though, is a fucking monster. He not only handles the older parts but owns them, makes them his own, and executes the material with a vitality that pushes into aerobics. He and Jeff Matz as a rhythm section are well matched and crushing in kind. And what of Matt “For President” Pike? He is the master of ceremonies at the Red Wedding. High on Fire were so intense they were in a league completely of their own. Genre doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Their volume was consuming — loudest of the day, I think, which may be by design — and their ferocity unmatched. As extreme as Desertfest got with some of the more death metal-style stuff, I feel like High on Fire added extra blast to their attack tonight and it was every bit as glorious as one could hope. The perfect ending in that nothing could hope to follow it.

—

Other Random Observations:

– Good music makes life better. Great music makes life great.

– The Yankees have been away all weekend and I suspect that’s made the drives in from NJ easier. Fortunate.

– Lunar eclipse tonight. Feels about right.

– I think I might end everything I ever write about Dead Meadow from here on out with an ellipses.

– Counted no fewer than four Obelisk shirts today, including one on Yanni from Stinking Lizaveta, which was truly humbling. Sleeveless, no less.

– Thanks for reading.

I did get to watch some of that eclipse on my way home. Imagine that for a second. Incredible. More pics after the jump.

Greenbeard

Left Lane Cruiser

Mother Iron Horse

Big Business

Stinking Lizaveta

Dead Meadow

High Reeper

Red Fang

Telekinetic Yeti

High on Fire

Tags: Big Business, Dead Meadow, Desertfest New York, Desertfest New York 2022, Desertfest NYC 2022, Greenbeard, High on Fire, High Reeper, Left Lane Cruiser, Mother Iron Horse, New York City, Queens, Red Fang, Stinking Lizaveta, Telekinetic Yeti

This entry was posted on Monday, May 16th, 2022 at 9:46 am and is filed under Reviews. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.