LIVE REVIEW: Freak Valley Festival 2025 Night One

Live Review: Freak Valley Festival 2025 Night One

Before Show

We sat on the plane for more than an hour before taking off, and sat for another hour before going to the gate after landing. Nine hours on a seven-hour flight. In between, a shitty, shake-you-awake ocean-crossing, with the elbow of the woman sitting next to me rubbing into my lovehandle the entire time. God I hate flying.

I managed to sleep some, and that’s fortunate since with the extra delay I missed my first ride to the festival and needed to wait for the next one, about two hours later by the time I got through customs and got my bag. I was already falling asleep sitting there. Slept in the car too on the way to Netphen.

Pickup was a bit before 2PM, I think? Somewhere in there. I had time to go to the hotel to drop my stuff off before the first band would start — I also snuck in brushing my teeth — but that was it, the day was starting. Some day I will come to Freak Valley a day early, to rest and relax and check out the setup process before it all starts. Not 2025.

So I’d be a wreck by the end of it, but the first day of Freak Valley was set to roll, and it was time to roll with it. Here’s how that went:

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Sarkh

I made it. It was like five minutes before Sarkh went on, my credentials weren’t where they were supposed to be, but Ralf in back handed me a pass and told me to go and I did. Saying hi to the folks in the photo pit and others walking around. It was Freak Valley pretty much from the moment I walked in, and since I was late, probably well before that too, but solidified as same when fest-mainstay and all around nice guy Volker Fröhmer picked up the mic to introduce the instrumental trio Sarkh as he’ll introduce every band that plays this weekend, and the trio got underway with their black-metal-tinged take on heavygaze or heavy post-rock, whatever you want to call it when the guitar floats and the groove is pummeling you. Sarkh took part in last year’s International Space Station Vol. 2 four-way split (review here), which was on Worst Bassist Records (that’s Komet Lulu’s label; she’s a regular here), and starting off the day, they were immersive in a way you would want. They brought people to the front, and in the true spirit of this thing, were dug in from the outset. I count myself lucky to have seen them, and that’s a welcome beginning point for any weekend of rock and roll.

The Polvos!

Each day of Freak Valley 2025 has at least five acts I’ve never seen before, and The Polvos! followed on in that regard from Sarkh, coming from Chile to play to the early-assembled and waiting Freaks. I don’t know how long a flight that is, but I have to think the crowd made it worth the trip, packed as the grass was. Flowing cosmic heavy pervaded, not as metallic in the underpinning as was Sarkh, but certainly not lacking presence with three guitars. They were never quite out of control, but were jam-based, for sure, and the midtempo push helped put the crowd where the band wanted them to be, not quite lulled, but not far off, families with babies and kids, Deutschebros and loner weirdos and so on were all subject to The Polvos!’ creeper grooves, which got a little more forceful as they went on, unless that was me dreaming, but stayed vibrant all the while, mellowed again and blew it out again. They brought records to sell and said as much from the stage. I reviewed last year’s Floating (review here), and wouldn’t at all mind a revisit, especially after the show.

The Thing

This was about the time I remembered coffee exists, and that’s fortunate, because dragging ass as I was, I’d never have made it up for The Thing, who are from New York and were an entirely unknown quantity to me, despite my relative proximity to their hometown as compared to say, Siegen. They were young and rocked on stage in such a way as to make ke think they’ll take good stories home from this tour, and with the US connection and some psych-blues in their sound, I couldn’t help but recall how much this festival supported Baltimore’s The Flying Eyes when they were going, not to mention The Midnight Ghost Train. Not as madcap as the latter or as blues-specific as the former, The Thing were indeed their own Thing, and with a backstage coffee and a double-espresso from the booth out front, I felt like I was able to dig all the more into what they were doing — a bit of All Them Witches’ loose genre-awareness, but not necessarily adherence — and a party aspect that came through alongside some neospace swing. Thoroughly modern, and I’m not complaining about that. Also the weekend’s first drum solo. I think I wasn’t the only one in the crowd who didn’t know them — that’s a lie; I’m the most ignorant — but they had people moving up front and that energy was infectious… now that I’d had some goddamn coffee and wasn’t falling asleep sitting on the ground. Note to self on these dudes. Further investigation required.

The Dead Reds

English rockers The Dead Reds did an acoustic set for Rockpalast — who are here filming select sets, as always — earlier, and I saw them setting up for it. I guess from their retroist look, I was expecting hard ’70s boogie, but they turned out to be moodier and more flow-minded than all-swing-all-the-time; not that groove was lacking, but it came in a different context than my judging-a-book-by-its-cover, know-nothing ass anticipated, and the real fun was in finding that out. Some post-Janis blues twang on the vocals, but they were vibes for the era thereof, and noted from the stage it was their first time in Germany. Freak Valley has been sold out pretty much since it was announced as taking place — there’s a steady crew of regulars, others come and go each year, but generally speaking, if you come here, you want to come back, and I guess you get enough of those year after year and a band like The Dead Reds — like, communists? — have a full lawn to play to as the centerpiece band of the day. The mood was set enough that my man with the hippie-sticks busted ’em out by stage right. Others sat on blankets, stood in the sun, drank in the back, or wandered. I decided it was time for another coffee. Just one more for the night to come.

Jools

Brash, dually-fronted UK hard-punkers Jools released their new album, Violent Delights, at the beginning of this month. They’re not a band I know — told you I was the most ignorant — and probably not in my wheelhouse sound-wise, what with all the punk rock and the stage outfits and such. Nothing against young, in-shape people getting naked — that’s what being young and in-shape is for — but yeah. Certainly the crowd was into it, and the band were tight and energetic and everything they needed to be to sell it from the stage, including some between-song banter. They perhaps were picking up with some of what Amyl and the Sniffers brought last year in terms of intensity, showcasing punchy material with due verve and push, flexible enough to bring on hints of more metallic tones and to bask in that next-generation take on heavy whatever that is flourishing across the globe in this otherwise dumbest decade in the history of decades, but mostly in it for the charge, and bearing songs suited to that. I don’t know that I’ll dive into the record, but Jools were a sight to behold.

Windhand

Even my most known quantity for the day, Richmond, Virginia, murkmakers Windhand, had something new on offer in their return as a five-piece with Leanne Martz — who’s also playing alongside vocalist Dorothia Cottrell for solo sets, also ex-Heavy Temple, in Darling, etc. — on second guitar. This lineup of the band — there’s a new bassist as well, and it’s Tommy Hamilton from Druglord — is about a month out from playing their first show together, but I’ll be damned if they didn’t sound like Windhand. Guitarist Garrett Morris, drummer Ryan Wolfe and Cottrell could hardly do otherwise, and with a liquid light show from Mad Alchemy, they tied together the threads of doom, grey-toned psychedelia and grunge in their songs as one would expect a veteran band to do, and though I’m pretty sure I said as much last time I saw them, which was Fall 2023, nearly two years ago, I’ll double down on taking a new Windhand LP whenever one was ready to go. They’ve got a defined sound, to be sure, but you can’t listen to their records and accuse them of only doing one thing. They’ve evolved organically over the last 15 years, and I’ll put them up there with anyone of their generation in doom, and yes, that includes Pallbearer and YOB.

My Sleeping Karma

Finally. Genuinely one I’m crossing off my list. I’ve been a fan of My Sleeping Karma since their first album, now 19 years old, and had never seen the band before. I suspect that put me in the minority of the crowd, who no doubt were far more expert in what was coming, but while bittersweet in light of drummer Steffen Weigand passing away two years ago, the band’s moving forward felt naturally in homage to their drummer, and the music retains his spirit as André Stein, who was close to the band even before joining, has taken up the drummer role. He joins guitarist Seppi, bassist Matte and synthesist Norman in the lineup, and at the risk of honesty, they were my most anticipated band of the festival. So how was it, at last, after so long? Well, they pretty much had me at the line check. From there, they did the hug that I’ve seen photos and videos of however many times and gradually hit it in a way that was laid back but not lacking energy in André’s drumming, and Seppi’s guitar lines and Matte’s bass sort of wove around each other with the synth tying them together; the stuff of classic My Sleeping Karma to my mind. The tonal depth of their records and the space in their sound were accordingly on display, and though I don’t think they were a loud as Windhand, neither were they trying to be. People went off for them, dancing and such even as midnight came and went, and perhaps the highest compliment I can give the set is it lived up to my hopes, which were unreasonable, to be sure. The sound was spot on. They were hypnotic, no less with Mad Alchemy still on the oils, but had a presence on stage, and while they’ve always been instrumental, their songs are memorable for the varying paths they take, their riffy divergences, and the blend of elements that’s so much their own. I’m so glad I got to see them. It was a long time coming.

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Next Morning

The hotel coffee is so good I could melt into it. I’m at the Ewerts this year, where I’ve never stayed before. It’s smaller, seems family-owned, which is cool, has a small and gorgeous bar (where I got the coffee; the breakfast room is around the bend the other way). I was so tired last night as My Sleeping Karma were wrapping up that I decided to hoof it the 2.25 km (1.4 mi) from the AWO grounds. I got about a third of the way in the pitch black of night alongside what seems to be the main road of Netphen, at least that I’ve seen, and a cab came into view. I was asleep not terribly long thereafter. That too was a long time coming.

It’s gorgeous again today, supposed to be spectacular all the way through, so I’m looking forward to getting back out, but first shower and some of that hotel breakfast for cheese and eggs, what with the life force and such. Thanks for reading. More pics after the jump.