NOTES FROM DESERTFEST NEW YORK 2024: Night One

Notes From Desertfest New York 2024: Night One

Before Show

Doors aren’t for a while yet, and I’m sitting out the back of the Knockdown Center as far out of the way as I can put myself and still be here. It’s good to be here. I crashed hard after the pre-show last night, and it wasn’t painful when the alarm went off at 8AM, unless of course you count the various old-rocker ailments that hit me alongside consciousness. There’s a reason I bring ibuprofen to these things.

I’m staying with Tim Bugbee — a photographer and one of those people who proves you can be both insanely talented and kind — in an AirBNB down the way, and it was about five minutes by car from a to b. Coming into town, I did not travel light. Big suitcase, laptop bag, camera bag; I felt as though all my belongings were compressed to a maximum extent coming back from Budapest last month. This is hardly the same kind of trip, but I wanted to spread out a little. I brought a pack of seltzer, some leftover chicken. I can be comfortable while doing a thing. It’s allowed. I stopped short of bringing a coffee pot, but should have. I’m not usually much for Keurigs, but it was functional. My grinds can come home with me.

This was basically the mellow morning before two days of go. Fine. I sat in my car for an hour and a half from 11:30AM-1:00PM so it didn’t get ticketed or towed because alternate side parking — it didn’t — and hung around in air conditioning because it’s hot in the sun. The whole weekend is supposed to be gorgeous weather, warm and sunny, but the light is Fall. Can’t climate change the Earth’s orbit, I guess. Angles of the light and all that.

Seemingly random, but sitting off to the side in the main venue space, I just saw Amy Tung Barrysmith from Year of the Cobra checking bass and vocals with Amenra. It was a surprise; wouldn’t have been if I kept up with the band’s social media. No drama. Their bassist couldn’t make the trip, so she’s filling in. They announced it a few days ago. I wonder what the connection is there, but I’ll take it either way. I’ve never been huge on Amenra on a personal-listening level, but I’ve yet to hear Amy Tung Barrysmith play on a thing and not like it more for her involvement. Should be an interesting set. Cool. It will be the eighth one of the total 10 sets played today. I hope to see at least part of everybody. Will keep you posted how it goes.

To that end:

Guhts

My first time seeing Guhts, which is a thing worth remembering. Their first album, Regeneration (review here), is my one to beat for best debut of 2024, if that matters. More to the point, they were fucking great. Obviously I dig the record too, but at full volume and assault, it was just the right combination of expansive and oppressive. They had the laptop going the whole time with keyboard parts and various electronic atmospherics, and with the four of them up there, it was pretty clear ever were giving 100 percent of everything to the performance. The passion came through raw, and actually, having the backdrop and transitional drones happening apart from the band, emphasizing the ferocity of the delivery when they let loose. As they did. Righteously. If that had been the end of the night, the day would be a win.

Blackwater Holylight

It had been a couple years and, admittedly, there was the contextual weirdness of it being Psycho Las Vegas — that’s not a dig; their whole thing was absurdity — last time I saw Blackwater Holylight, but the sinister sound of 2021’s Silence/Motion (review here) came to life as part of an ambient pastiche. It was more immersive than a lot of heavy bands are willing to be, and I guess you could call that ‘gaze of some variety or other, but that almost implied a kind of laziness and Blackwater Holylight were as much fuzzy progressive grunge metal as they were languid nod, with keyboards adding to the texture of the melodies, some toward psychedelic but clearly mindful of place and time. And maybe they riff out for a while too. How is that anything but awesome?

Abrams

Among the bands I haven’t seen before, I was most curious and what Abrams would bring. The Denver heavy rockers are ultra-reliable somgwriters, and they’ve always had a clarity of purpose in their arrangements and structures that is underrated by exponents, but in the Texas room it was more about hitting hard and representing the scope of their craft. Some emo in there, or at least the punk of the aughts. In any case, they were dynamic and leaned into the impact of their heavier stretches. At the same time, they weren’t void of mood at all, and guitarist/vocalist Zach Amster is the charismatic frontman he has always seemed to be. Dude can sing. I stood in the back for most of the set, and I could feel my earplugs shaking in my ears. People had their fists up. I’m not shitting you. And seeing them live, maybe part of why they’re undervalued is they’re a bit between styles. They’re a heavy rock band, but that’s not it. They’re metal, prog, punk and a few besides. Practiced but not at all dry in their delivery, I have to wonder if Abrams ever plays a show without making a new fan.

Primitive Man

Brutal turn of vibe. You know on paper what you’re getting with also-Danver’s Primitive Man — punishment; sounds no less likely to consume you having just bludgeoned you into oblivion — but the reality of the thing is even more destructive. Caustic doom as a genre? Crushing doom? Those sound like words that could be things. Doesn’t matter. Also from Denver, the trio were a vision of aural misanthropy, extremist in purpose and volume. There have only been like three bands today, so it doesn’t mean a ton to call them the heaviest as even their quiet parts had a rumble beneath that you could feel in your chest, but they were the heaviest of the fest so far and it would take a lot of noise to beat. Frequencies as weapons. Malevolence and probably a truckload of dry ice. I wouldn’t call myself well adjusted by any measure — if I was, I’d have stopped doing this years ago — but even on a level of catharsis, Primitive Man are a lot to take. Which, wait for it, is the point of the thing. If dystopia’s coming, they’re ready. And brutally sad. I didn’t know any of the songs. Mostly they were terrifying. And it was astonishing that it could still be daylight while they played. If Khanate are hacking you to pieces, Primitive Man are pulling concrete blocks on your chest until you can’t breathe anymore.

Spirit Mother

About as fresh in my mind as they possibly could be since the album they put out today was streamed here yesterday. They played a good deal of Trails, and brought a heap of noise to the prior single “Locust,” and were thick in vibe while still keeping the songs moving. A fill-in violinist/vocalist held down that role without question, and Armand Lance pushed his vocals into screams and was still able to carry the melody alongside said violinist when the guitar and bass dropped out and it was vocals and ride cymbal only for a few measures in “Wolves.” Some aspects of Young Hunter, All Them Witches, but Spirit Mother are very much their own thing on the balance, and their songs are getting darker, more expansive, and better. My second time seeing them, and I’m extra glad to have seen them play the Trails material. I’ll look forward to the next one.

Belzebong

Riff-forward instrumental stoner sludge metallers Belzebong came all the way from Poland to elicit crusty vibes in fog that I couldn’t tell if it was theirs or leftover from Primitive Man. Surely they’re used to haze, one way or the other. Big nod, ‘Bong Fire Death’ — because Bathory, god damnit! — in the backs of the bass and guitars, amd an absolute lock on tone, there was precious little to not like. You would not call them subtle and neither are they trying to be. Doom. Fucking. Riffs. Black. Fucking. Sabbath. You get the idea. Like their countrymen worshipers in Dopelord, they wear their love of weed on their collective sleeve, and I get it. And “it” in this circumstance means stoned. But the reason it works is because the music and their performance of it is as much a celebration as anything else, and they’re not trying to convince anyone they invented Sleep riffs. They’re the kind of band that, if you’re in this thing, make complete sense, and would confuse the shit out of normal people. It’s a very specific idea of fun. Always a pleasure to see them.

Deathchant

I crossed paths with Deathchant in June at Freak Valley (review here), so not quite topping Spirit Mother for being in my head, but not terribly far off either. They were going to be a ripper on stage and they were. Thin Lizzy and Motörhead and Sabbath and DRI or whoever; they own records. But volume and energy and shove were the order of things, however much the two guitars might veer into NWOBHM-type harmony on the way. I was late getting in to take pictures, but that’s okay. I don’t really like taking pictures most of the time, and I do like talking to friends, so if I’m not in front of the stage for everything, fine. I was on the side. Still enough perspective to know Deathchant were the start of the party for a lot of the heads in the room, which was later-in-evening crowded, and fair enough. The West Coast skate thing doesn’t always translate in New York, but some things hit just right. I’d never seen them before last August at SonicBlast (review here) — to which they returned this year — now it’s three times in 13 months. Maybe I’m a fan.

Amenra

Sure enough, Amy Tung Barrysmith on bass. They’re not a casual band, Amenra. They’re not the kind of thing one might put on in the background of an otherwise quiet afternoon. And it’s all so very important-feeling, very solemn, whether a given part is loud and screamy or subdued and melodic. It’s a genre trope — partly in Amenra’s wake, I think — for pprt-metal to take itself seriously. So they do the thing where Colin H. Van Eeckhout bangs the sticks together while kneeling at the start, and there’s the strobe matching the heft of tone and emotional immediacy with its own kind of sensory overload. They have a lurch and an undulating waves of distortion that’s their own, and it’s not a hot take they’re incredible at what they do, but I’ve never managed to get fully on board. My loss. It was a blast to watch Amy from Year of the Cobra playing with them, though, and just because they may not be a band I put on all the time doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what they do and the influence they’ve had. It just means I’m probably going to be early for Domkraft.

Domkraft

And so I was. A band worth being early for. I spent most of the set right in the front, obnoxiously so, I’m sure, and kind of let go and nodded out for a bit. I didn’t fall asleep while Domkraft were playing or anything close to it. But it’s not a conscious thing when that riff hits you just right anyhow. I have to think the moshers know what I’m talking about. Starting out on a nine-day US run, the Swedish three-piece indeed were a culminating force from the Texas Stage, riffs bouncing off concrete walls and back again, creating that much more presence in the sound. There was a technical issue with the guitar, but it wasn’t actually that long in fixing, and they were right to restart “Whispers.” They’re are a lesson in the difference a great drummer can make, but they’re also a lesson in the difference a great everything can make. The lesson I learned was that I don’t appreciate their guitar solos enough, and the way I learned it was by being fortunate enough to be on the planet at the same time as the band.

High on Fire

The band who taught the world to shred riffs. Last met at the beginning of July in Croatia for Bear Stone (review here), though certainly they’ve been elsewhere since then, and they continue to hold their own standard. There was some not-fun-kind feedback intermittent early on, but it was a High on Fire set, like they wouldn’t deliver? They’re returning headliners at Desertfest New York, having played in 2022 (review here), and I don’t have a ton to say about them that didn’t apply two months ago, but to sum up they’re one of the best heavy-anything bands of their generation. I continue to dig the way they’re able to vary tempo in the live show while keeping the balance toward intensity on an LP. Of course they’re headlining. Hopefully it won’t be the last time they do. This forever will be the time that somebody was blowing bubbles during “Rumors of War,” however.

Unless they want to make it tradition or something. Which would be okay too, for sure. Hashtag Bubbles of War.

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On that happy note, good night. I’ve been writing all day at the fest, and I’m ready to call it an evening. Tomorrow brings Dozer, Spaceslug and sundry other delights. There are more pics after the jump, and as always, thank you for reading.