Posted in Questionnaire on August 5th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
The Obelisk Questionnaire is a series of open questions intended to give the answerer an opportunity to explore these ideas and stories from their life as deeply as they choose. Answers can be short or long, and that reveals something in itself, but the most important factor is honesty.
Based on the Proust Questionnaire, the goal over time is to show a diverse range of perspectives as those who take part bring their own points of view to answering the same questions. To see all The Obelisk Questionnaire posts, click here.
Thank you for reading and thanks to all who participate.
The Obelisk Questionnaire: Ivan Skvortsov of Sacred Buzz
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How do you define what you do and how did you come to do it?
I’m the voice and guitar of Sacred Buzz. It’s a four-piece band based in Berlin and psychedelic rock would be the closest genre you could hang on it. We use drone, reverb, fuzz, surreal lyrics, kraut-rock beat, and many other colors in our sound palette.
How did I come to do it? It all started with realising how magical the music is and wanting to make some of it myself.
Describe your first musical memory.
My parents and I used to go to distant areas of Russia with kayaks and tents. My father had a battery-powered cassette player with cassettes of underground post-soviet folk and rock music. I still remember one of the nights vividly: the soft crackle of the fire among age-old pine trees, beautiful stars above, and the gentle humming of folky music with cello, guitar and flute from the cassette player.
Describe your best musical memory to date.
It might not have been the best but very magical and memorable.
2018, sunny day. Me and my good friends being late to King Gizzard & The Lizard Wizard show in Moscow. Arriving when they started playing The Lord of Lightning. In the same moment huge clouds form and a thunderstorm starts. Thick riffs and the smell of ozone in the wet air.
When was a time when a firmly held belief was tested?
The first experience with mind-altering substances definitely shook my world.
Where do you feel artistic progression leads?
For me it leads to the most accurate realization of one’s ideas and more colors to imagine and draw them.
How do you define success?
Success can be bitter when reached. Those who have no definition of it cannot experience failure. The key is to enjoy the ride and not set goalposts – only direction.
What is something you have seen that you wish you hadn’t?
Life shows you what you need to see. It’s part of what makes us ourselves.
Describe something you haven’t created yet that you’d like to create.
There’s a lot more music waiting to be created.
What do you believe is the most essential function of art?
Art is the way of the Universe to learn itself. We are the tools.
Say something positive about yourself.
I’m very patient but also impulsive. I don’t really like to talk about myself. I’d leave it to others to say something about me.
Something non-musical that you’re looking forward to?
I’m longing for lasting world peace… On another scale, I’m looking forward to spending the winter somewhere with a warm climate.
Posted in Features on August 3rd, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Sad news out of the Maryland doom underground as John Brenner, founding guitarist/vocalist of Revelation and Against Nature, has passed away at the age of 59. John began Revelation in 1985 under the moniker of Panic, and helped shape the Chesapeake doom underground with album’s like 1991’s Salvation’s Answer and 1995’s …Yet So Far before returning with Release in 2008 alongside bassist Bert Hall, Jr., and drummer Steve Branagan, while at the same time developing a mellow progressive rock sound on an incredibly prolific run as Against Nature with the same three-piece configuration, issuing no fewer than 17 full-lengths between 2005 and 2012.
And whatever Brenner accomplished in the 1990s as a songwriter, that years-long splurge — Revelation also had four albums between 2008 and 2012, which isn’t nothing, if sparse in comparison — was something magic, but even more than a gifted player and writer, I will remember Brenner as a sweet, humble guy. I feel lucky to have seen him play, and more fortunate to have interviewed him the couple times I did.
He was never high on his own legacy when he had every right to be, and had such a deep love and appreciation for creating that it informed the listening experience of his records. By the time the Bandcamp era really took hold, he was mostly done and onto what seems to have been a pretty successful professional career, but the low-key heft and emotional resonance of his work remains vibrant in that material, and if you can find it, it is worth the time and effort to do so.
Bert Hall posted the following remembrance on social media:
John Joseph Brenner, February 18, 1967 – July 31, 2026
In the last hour, some of the worst news imaginable was shared with me. John Brenner passed away tonight.. John quietly fought a diagnosis of stage 4 stomach cancer he received earlier this year.
John was a very private man. The irony in that is that John was a man whose work was known and appreciated here and in far away places where cultural and day to day life sometimes looked very different than where he called home. Many of us knew him as an immensely creative and inspired musician and songwriter. John was all of that and much more.
Online articles telling John’s story of having been a high school dropout that rose, through his own personal drive, to get a GED, graduate from college and earn two Masters degrees, teach at university and go on to spearhead a program whose goal was to engage youth and provide a pathway into higher education are easily found. I hope you take a moment and have a look at the amazing things John accomplished in the years that many of us missed his presence in the music world. These articles provide an amazing counterpoint to the man we all admired for writing classics like Never Comes Silence, Salvation’s answer and For the Sake of no one along with 19 Against Nature releases.
John and I had been friends since we were 14 years old in the 9th grade at Baltimore Polytechnic. Neither of us stayed beyond that year and BOTH of us ended up in summer school for the first time! I remember when John dropped out, he used to talk about reading the dictionary all the time! All of the steps in his academic life were quietly executed and laid out the road he eventually embraced as his passion and life’s work.
Many of us will miss his dry humor, his personality, his intelligence and his contributions to the academic AND musical worlds, but the largest vacuum he leaves behind is his presence as a friend, brother, mentor and inspiration.
I have so much gratitude for the time spent laughing, creating, driving each other nuts while traveling the world together and living the dream of our youth!! Time makes us temporary to this existence but the light we share of ourselves in the memories we build together makes us immortal.
Until we meet again in the next world… I’ll be sure to bring a bass.
Posted in Features on June 10th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Douglas Sherman — one of the two founding guitarists of Gozu, bar/restauranteur and co-owner of The Hollows in Boston (if you go, make sure you order a The Obelisk Dark & Stormy), horror aficionado and all around wonderful guy — is currently on tour supporting his band’s new album, VI (review here). Their third full-length to see issue through Metal Blade Records imprint Blacklight Media, it is also their first LP in 13 years to be helmed by producer Benny Grotto at Mad Oak Studios.
I don’t know if ‘Gozu x Mad Oak‘ counts as a reunion, or a reboot or what, but their return to those hallowed halls of Boston underground rock comes after a succession of three albums — 2016’s Revival (review here), 2018’s Equilibrium (review here) and 2023’s Remedy (review here) — with Dean Baltulonis at Wild Arctic Studio in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, who helped them bring out the sense of charge that typified their work during that time. Sherman, guitarist/vocalist/bringer-of-the-funk Marc Gaffney, bassist/roller-of-groove Joe Grotto and now-former drummer Seth Botos hitting Mad Oak is a noteworthy return, and the breadth of tone and overarching warmth throughout VI is a perfect demonstration of why the pairing worked so well on Gozu‘s first two LPs, 2010’s Locust Season (review here) and 2013’s The Fury of a Patient Man (review here).
Listening to the record, I was curious as to what prompted the return — spoiler alert: the operational convenience of not taking the band from Boston to Portsmouth was a factor — and as it had been a while, wanted to chat with Doug about its making and the band’s latest doings in general. Last year you might’ve seen them supporting Baroness or touring with The Obsessed and Howling Giant. In addition to the touring they’ll do throughout the second half of 2026, you might catch them next January at Planet Desert Rock Weekend VII in Las Vegas, as I also hope very much to do.
What follows was recorded just as the band was making ready to head out on the current run. Thanks for reading.
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Gozu Interview with Douglas Sherman – May 22, 2026
How are you feeling about starting the work again of supporting a new record?
I feel great. I love the video. I love the new album. I’m pretty psyched about it. I think this is definitely, for me personally, one of my faves in terms of how it came about, in terms of what was going on in our lives to actually crank this out. It’s just a little bit more raw and aggressive, you know. Let’s say it again.
Tell me about that. What was going on?
Well, I think there’s a lot. Bands are are funny, funny organisms, and depending on what’s going on in everyone’s life is depends on what kind of album comes out. Nowadays, especially with everything outside of of our personal lives, how insane the world is, and just how everyone’s tried to navigate life in general, to try to find like little seeds of positivity to get through the day. At least on my end, it’s hard to get four people nowadays together — since Covid into this administration — to do something positive together, and those forces that are outside affect people that are in the band, and that affects what happens, when you try to write, or you try to do something creative, and we were just fortunate enough to kind of crank through all that.
We didn’t really overthink it too much, so I feel like it was a little bit easier than past, but also we just had a good, good crop of tunes, and I’m always writing, and Gaff is always writing, and so it wasn’t anything short of material, it was just what was, what was going to make sense for the, for this album in particular, to to showcase what was exactly going on, and then at that, at one point, while we were writing, I decided to, in this, in this economy, decided to become a partner in a restaurant, in a bar, and, and so, as I, yeah, so not only am I in a band that’s, not making money, I have a restaurant that’s, trying to make money right now, so it’s like two…
A litany of terrible fiscal decisions.
Yeah, so it’s it’s fun. So my whole life is pretty much I wake up and everything’s on fire and I’m trying to trying to figure out how to navigate it. But it is fun. I love jumping into this venture of owning a restaurant, but also it’s geared towards a lot of like stuff that we’re all into, like music, and so kind of like it coincides with everything, so just getting that rolling, and then getting the album together, was a lot of pressure. And then we, we went with Benny Grotto, who did, Locust Season, the first one, and I think half the second one, of Fury, and we wanted to get back to those roots, and to something familiar.
We weren’t going to something that was unknown. We just wanted everything to be comfortable when we went in there to record, and I think the product was good, also Seth, at that point, decided he was leaving the band on good terms. Everything was fine. It was personal stuff, and it’s tough being in a band. You know, it’s not easy. And so he was on his way out, but he wanted to do the album, which was awesome. And we love him to death. And it’s very commendable and honorable that, he did that and killed it. We had this limited timeline, a person leaving, personal stuff going on in my life, and Gaff’s life, and everyone else’s life, like anything.
And so, long story short, this is what came out of it, and I think it kind of represents everything. We still have those kind of like roots in desert rock/stoner rock stuff, but also we have a little bit more of a, I don’t know if it’s a harder edge, but just more, more aggressive, but also, focusing on melody, which is number one with us in choruses, and how to create courses, and like how to actually do that, because it’s hard, you know. We could sit around, just do whatever, and just kind of like come up with anything, but we’re still trying to figure out how to actually write a good pop tune, and it’s hard.
You mentioned starting being partner in a restaurant, starting The Hollows. I was going to ask if that’s going to change the being on tour for you, waking up and still having to put out those fires every day.
No, because I’m going partnered with my girlfriend and another partner, and so I’ll be connected to all of them, and plus I have security cameras where I can be yelling at bartenders over text: put that money back, stop drinking on the job, that kind of thing. But yeah, no, it’ll be the same. It’s a lot, and it’s a lot of work, that’s all I can say, and I have a lot of respect for people who do that kind of stuff, and now more than ever, but yeah, no, it’d be the same, and the beauty of technology is you can tour and work from the van, which is pretty much what everybody does right now. A lot of jobs are so easy, to have that luxury of getting in the van and during the day, do work, and then at night play and that’s kind of how it is.
What new songs are in the set?
Good question. We have six off the new one, so that “Corinthian Leatherface,” “They Did Know Karate,” “Midnight Express.” Fuck. The name situation is still — we’re still trying to remember the names, because they’ve changed so many times, and they’re all fucking all over the place. So, six of the newest ones, and then we have a bunch of old stuff, and it’s kind of cool, because I’m not used to at this point being like, oh shit, we’ve been doing this for a while now, but we have these kind of tunes that we haven’t played before that are cool but we’re not doing this time. I think the next run we’ll do a lot of like older stuff, and it’s kind of getting that weird point where it’s like, pull up the hits, or like, do stuff we haven’t done before and that kind of thing. So it’s kind of weird, but it’s an hour set we have geared for, so it kind of runs the gamut of everything, plus these new six songs. This will be the first time we’re touring and playing like the majority of the new album, so I’m really, really psyched about that, just to push it and stuff.
How did co-headlining with Restless Spirit come about?
I love them. I think this is a good pairing. When I was working at the Middle East bartending, I saw them play a bunch of times, and I’ve always talked to a them about potentially doing a tour, and like that kind of thing. It’s always been, yeah, we’ll get together, but their manager, if I remember correctly, is our manager as well. So it kind of lined up that they were putting out an album, and we were putting out an album literally at the same time. So I was like, hey, let’s do this, and it kind of worked out, and it’s a good fit, I think, and a good package, to run around the States, and make something happen.
Last year you were supporting The Obsessed. Is it a different mindset for you starting something like this than that? Do you think about these shows differently, as your shows?
Yeah, I mean, those tours are awesome. Every time we’ve headlined, it’s always been kind of weird, because we never really matched up too well with like an actual huge package tour, and so I think this one lines up well in terms of styles, and so it’s a lot easier. It also puts a lot of pressure on the band to do a lot of shit to make stuff happen, because when you’re supporting a band that’s legendary like The Obsessed or Baroness, it’s just easy to be like, yeah, we’ll run a set, and whatever happens, happens. Subconsciously it’s not on us. But when you’re in charge of it, or it falls on you, how the show goes, it puts a different mindset to it, and when you have a good band like Restless Spirit co-headlining, it makes it that much more stronger, and you feel confident about it. So, I feel confident about it, going into it. Whereas before, I would definitely be afraid, like, “Oh, is this going to happen?” Like, “How’s this going to end up?” and that kind of thing.
I was okay looking at the back of the record. What is “Holla if You Hear Me Records?”
Okay, it’s weird. Yeah, so this album, so confusing. The album’s out on Metal Blade/BlackLight Media, but we’re licensing it for the first time from Metal Blade, so we’re licensing the album from them.
What does that mean?
You’re paying for them to put it out. They’re letting us use the songs and we’re responsible for putting it out ourselves. That is the nutshell of it, and so, in order to do that, you have to kind of form your own little corporation to do it. That’s what that is. It’s weird. It was kind of thrown upon us. We didn’t really know how to navigate that. I’m still trying to figure it out, too. I’m not extremely well-versed in this area, but the short of it is, they’re still putting out the album and doing the big machine, press, and backing us on that end, but in terms of putting it out, they’re going to do digital, but we’re responsible for everything else, and if we wanted to do anything else, it’s on us. We’d have to buy it from them. So we buy the song, buy the licensing from them to do it.
That’s why we don’t have CDs right now, because, quite frankly, it’s fucking expensive. And so we choose between CDs and vinyl, you know? I just chose vinyl because I think vinyl is the way to go. It’s just more tangible, it has more of an appeal factor, and people that even don’t listen to vinyl will buy it. But also, a lot of people in our genre buy vinyl. That’s what they do. But a lot of people hit me up now for CDs, so it’s just this weird thing again, where I’m just trying to figure out, like, what a lot of people – it’s not even just like a couple people, it’s been a lot — and so we’re going to be doing that as well, just not right now. So it’s kind of.. it’s kind of piecemealing this out.
What that also means is distribution is kind of rough too, because now that we have the vinyl out, it’s like we’re our own company. Now we’re looking for distribution in Europe, right now, and some other places to get it out there, because right now we’re just primarily using Bandcamp to put the vinyl out, which has been fine. It’s been very interesting on that, and using Bandcamp is kind of our stable to put it out. It’s kind of a weird thing. It’s almost like we’re back to square one with a huge, company pushing the PR and everything else, behind us with full support.
From here, will you guys put out your own records? Is that the way you’re going?
I don’t know, I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. When it comes time, yeah, I’m definitely ready. We have to figure out what that’s going to look like. I mean, we could. It’s hard because the thing is, right now, what pushes albums, unfortunately, is the PR machine, the algorithm machine, getting it. How you get seen by a lot of people is word of mouth, and that word of mouth has to come from social media, and how do you make that happen? You know, and it’s just what it is. It’s like chasing the dragon to kind of push this out. So, yeah, we’ll figure it out, you know. We’ve done this for a while, so hopefully, I think we can navigate this one. And I mean, couple years from now, who the hell knows what the situation is going to be? You could literally — and I think I’ve seen other bands do this too — they just form their own record labels, and they just put them out themselves. You can do it, it’s easy. It’s just more about, do you have the time to put the back end together to do that work.
In addition to all the other work.
Exactly, exactly. I think that’s part of it too. Technology, as much as it is good, it can be hard, but for the positive end it can make musicians independent and successful at the same time.
Talk to me about being at Mad Oak. How much was that a homecoming for you?
Yeah, it’s great. And they just moved that studio to another right across the street into an awesome, awesome room the across the way. That we were one of the last bands to record at the previous one was awesome. It was good being there. It was just good vibes, and Benny’s super-talented, and he delivered. It just felt easy. You know, we went in there, we did our thing, we gave him the songs beforehand, and hearing, he knew what he was going to do, and so it was seamless at that point. But it’s just good vibes in general. We did record the basics at the new one, the new Mad Oak, and it’s awesome, super-sleek, homey, and super-fun, and got to see [Craig] Riggs [owner of Mad Oak, vocalist in Kind, Sasquatch drummer, etc.], of course, and just it was good to hang with homies and make it happen. Yeah, good mojo.
Was there was there something about the songs that made you want to do that, take that route with them?
No, I think was that thing where we were talking about before, about just everything kind of being hectic in life, and just the way everything is, and we just didn’t want to think too much in terms of traveling somewhere or doing something with somebody. We wanted something that was like a short hit and a sure thing, and just to be familiar in the family end of having Benny there, and being comfortable, making this happen without thinking about, is this guy going to get it right, what’s this guy’s work ethic, and that kind of thing.
He knocked it out of the park, and he was great, which psyched for him, he’s got amazing ears for that kind of stuff, and he’s also grown when we worked with him in 2009 or ’10. I mean, we’re in ’26 right now, so he’s also come into his own as an amazing engineer and super-talented. As we all know, and he’s done awesome albums for everybody in bands that we know in our genre. It just became a thing where it was just easy to make it all happen, and but also make it happen in a way that was super-fast and not laborious, so low drama. Yeah, no drama at all. So it was great.
What are your plans for the rest of the year? When are you going to Europe?
Yeah, it’s a good question. We’re looking for Europe right now, so hopefully we can, make that happen this year. I don’t know what the plans are for that yet, but hopefully something soon. If not the fall, hopefully the winter, we can make something happen, but no plans right now. I know we have this tour, and we have something coming up in January, and other than that, nothing yet after this on the books yet. I’m sure something will come up.
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GOZU remaining tour dates w/ Restless Spirit: 6/11/2026 Knucklehead – Los Angeles, CA 6/16/2026 The Lost Well – Austin, TX 6/17/2026 Siberia – New Orleans, LA 6/18/2026 Eastside Bowl – Nashville, TN 6/19/2026 Bogg’s Social & Supply – Atlanta, GA 6/20/2026 New Brookland Tavern – West Columbia, SC 6/21/2026 Chapel Of Bones – Raleigh, NC 6/23/2026 The Camel – Richmond, VA 6/24/2026 Metro Gallery – Baltimore, MD 6/25/2026 Gold Sounds – Brooklyn, NY 6/26/2026 Nikki Lopez – Philadelphia, PA 6/27/2026 Middle East Upstairs – Cambridge, MA
In all the time I’ve done the travel-and-write thing for this site, I don’t think I’ve ever done an arrival post, only departures. I now remember why that is, because I’m sleepless, utterly shitkicked, and I have precious little to say about anything other than how much I hate flying.
And, understand, I hate flying. So much more than I’ve ever said, and I know I’ve said it before. But I’ve never actually put down on the record my heartfelt, deep-vein disdain for the process, the procedures, security, the nickel and diming, no fucking room and some old apparently Albanian lady’s elbow in my side the whole flight and the special kind of asshole sat in front of me who not only put his seat back in coach — which already makes you a total dick in my estimation; I don’t care if it’s an overnight trip — but left it that way when he stood up for like an hour before landing. From waiting on line to pack into some deathtrap that’s probably as old as I am despite the (crappy) touchscreens in the backs of the seats to the stench of the food, such as it is, to what the hell was that shaking during takeoff to feeling every little wiggle of turbulence and having nowhere to go, nothing to do, and only the Jack Black remake of Anaconda for comfort (which actually wasn’t terrible), I hate it all so, so much.
But the thing is, you’re never thinking about that at departure. Sure, by the time I get on a plane, I’ve already participated in a slew of hated rituals, between feeling anxious all day about getting to the airport, wondering what it is I’ve forgotten to pack — because invariably it’s something — checking my bag, going through security, all of that bullshit. Then you get into the airport and it’s like, “Hey go get drunk and spend money,” neither of which I want to do, as if underscoring just how much this entire thing isn’t for me. With every fiber of my being, I hate flying. But departure, you can put yourself in a more hopeful mode, and I suppose I could now too if I had slept more than about five minutes total in 30-second increments, or if I’d eaten anything, or or or or.
I’ll get my perspective back. Probably after coffee. Yesterday I shed real tears talking with my wife about how lucky I am to do this shit. And I’m not short on anticipation for what this weekend will bring at Freak Valley Festival, which I’m attending this year for the fifth time in a row — an astonishing thought in itself — and it’s not that I don’t understand the privilege I have even to fly here, because it one. I just wish there was a better way. Isn’t it time to draw down the curtain on the jet age? Let’s drop the internal combustion engine while we’re at it.
Somebody’s dog barking. I’ll be here for a few hours yet as that’s when my ride gets here. The esteemed Alex Fuchs, head of transport for the festival, called me yesterday shortly after four in the morning (my time) to ask where I was. Great question. I was in bed. I felt bad for the mixup. I still do. I should’ve made sure he knew it was Thursday. I should’ve checked in with him Monday. I should’ve flown in a day early so I could hang around the festival grounds and wax poetic about the killer weekend to follow, rather than get to the hotel maybe at 1PM and then need to be over to the fest grounds at like three ahead of a four o’clock start. I’m so stupid with this stuff.
So I guess that’s why I generally do departure posts. Live and maybe learn. By this afternoon I’ll be gushing despite the jetlag, and by tonight I’ll be absolutely wrecked, brutally tired. It doesn’t matter. I’m here and I’m fortunate for that. Thanks if you keep up at all this weekend with the coverage, or if you catch it later or never see this sentence at all, that’s fine too I guess. Thank you anyhow, is the point I’m making.
Monolord release their new album, Neverending, today, May 29, through Relapse Records. It’s the busiest release day of the year so far, with albums also arriving from Elder and All Them Witches, and I mention both of them because I believe it’s to this class of acts that Monolord belongs, even if the Gothenburg trio have little in common sound-wise with either of the other two, apart from some blanket categorization like “heavy” or “loud most of the time,” etc.
That is to say, I put the ascent of Monolord to the forefront of the underground among the most fortunate things to happen to said underground in the last 15 years. They have modeled for an entire generation a style of riffing that knows where it comes from and celebrates it in unabashed style. “You Bastard,” “Inside a Collider” and the concluding “It’s Neverending” with harsh guest vocals from Jörgen Sandström (ex-Entombed, The Project Hate MCMXCIX) all demonstrate this in one way or another as the three-piece of guitarist/vocalist Thomas V. Jäger, bassist Mika Häkki and drummer Esben Willems — each of whom now has an ongoing solo-project — reaffirm some of what have always been the band’s strengths in groove and melody while branching out in meaningful ways therefrom, including in the process of recording itself.
As you’ve probably seen if you’ve seen anything about the record, Neverending was recorded with producer Sylvia Massy (Exodus, Life of Agony, etc.) in Ashland (I said Portland in the interview because I’m an idiot), Oregon, and that in itself is a shift in how Monolord make records. Less of a change is how much they’ll tour, which is plenty. West Coast and East Coast US, plus a Fall European run to hit festivals like Høstsabbat and Desertfest Belgium, for which they’ve already been confirmed.
The first of those tours starts June 11. I’ve included all the dates at the very bottom of this post, in blue. Before you get there, what follows is a partial transcript (yes, I took out the part where I said Portland) of a chat I was fortunate enough to have with Esben Willems last week, catching up on all things Monolord before Neverending sets them once again to work for the next few years.
Please enjoy and thanks for reading.
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Monolord Interview with Esben Willems – May 20, 2026
How are you?
Well, I’m everything at once, but that’s kind of life at the moment. Everything happening at once, and the world is a shit show at the same time, which is spicing everything up in a very bad way, but also in a very good way in some sense. The important stuff shines even brighter, if that makes sense. My family, my friends, music, everything that really matters has a big shiny spotlight on all of that, and has for the past year plus, for obvious reasons, for all of us. That’s kind of okay. Are we gonna die now? So, let’s make the most of it, for real.
I’m joking about it, but then again, my 11-year-old kid is also joking about the same thing, like the third world war jokes they joke about in school, because that’s the topic they frequently discuss, which is fucking insane. So, hey, I’m not bleak.
You’re coming to the States next month, right? West Coast run?
Yeah.
And then I think it’s East Coast in September, and then Europe in October for festivals? I saw you’re on Høstsabbat and Desertfest Belgium, so far.
Yeah, almost. We’re doing the West Coast run, and then back to Europe for two festival summer dates, then back to the US for the East Coast, and then two European tours. And then the Høstsabbat in Oslo, yeah.
Not that you’re not busy all the time anyway, and not that you’re not keeping yourself busy when you’re not busy with Monolord, but looking down the barrel of a new album cycle, how are you feeling about the work?
It’s a very good question that I don’t know the answer to. Recording an album is a clusterfuck. It’s kind of a controlled trainwreck. Everything happening at once, and it feels like chaos, and you do the creativity curve where at the bottom you just want to quit everything. I’m never gonna fucking play drums ever again. Then toward the end it’s like, this is all right, this is okay, this is passable, and then all of a sudden there’s an album in your hand on physical vinyl. Like, whoa, oh yeah, that’s right, it’s done now.
My experience with recording albums has been kind of the same every time. It’s a really weird process, not in a bad way necessarily. This was a very inspiring experience working with Sylvia. That was incredible, and it was cozy and inspiring all the way. It was just getting up, getting good coffee, going to the studio, making music, rinse and repeat for four weeks, and then all of a sudden there was an album.
It’s kind of weird going from being in that bubble of creating something and then all of a sudden you’re planning to tour that album. Maybe it doesn’t sound that weird, but it feels kind of weird. But I don’t mean weird in a bad sense. It feels great. I’m excited. I’m excited about the tours. We haven’t toured for quite some time now. We’ve played some festival shows, but proper tours we haven’t done in a couple years, so that’s going to be interesting in all the good ways, I hope. It feels good.
How much of the album was made in that four weeks? Obviously it was all recorded in that four weeks, but I mean in the sense of writing.
Oh, it was all made before the actual recording. Two-plus weeks of recording, and then almost two weeks of mixing.
How does that compare to Your Time to Shine?
Yeah, there was more time than we’re used to, but on Your Time to Shine we also had quite some time. It was during the pandemic. I had just taken over the studio, so we had kind of free studio time, so to speak. I think we scheduled three weeks of recording for that, and then I don’t remember what it took me to mix it after that, but yeah, kind of the same timeframe.
Time flies. Ask anyone being in the studio. You arrive in the morning and all of a sudden you’ve recorded two hits on the drum and it’s like, oh, it’s 5PM. Wild. So time flies by really quick recording.
What was staying in Oregon like?
It was Ashland, a small town, which was perfect for this. Just a cozy, slow, very chill town where basically nothing much happened, which was excellent. Cozy and beautiful, and the best cafe on the way to the studio. We lived about a two-minute walk from her studio. So no, it was great. No distractions.
How did you end up with Sylvia Massy to start with?
Thanks to our manager, Daniel Hall. We brainstormed working with a producer, and we were kind of like, no, don’t touch our circles. Three geezers knowing exactly what we want to do and having done that forever. But then we brainstormed: if we could work with anyone, who would that be? Sylvia’s name was basically the first name that came up that all three of us agreed on. We all liked her previous work and her mindset and her way of working and creating.
Our manager was like, let me look into that. All of a sudden he’d been in contact with her, and she’d been listening to our music, and came back like, I like this a lot. I’d love to work with the band. And then all of a sudden, again, we were just in Ashland with Sylvia Massy recording like nothing happened. Crazy. But it was amazing. It was a great experience, really.
Was it different in terms of her process versus what you guys had done before?
Well, the obvious biggest thing is having someone else from the outside listening to our music and working with our music and having opinions on what we do, which is not the easiest thing for us. But that was the big difference. Then again, working with someone like her, with her ears and her experience, was — I mentioned cozy before — very comfortable. I’ve never felt that in the studio before, ever. So that was incredible.
Just the feeling of going to the studio and actually feeling relaxed and feeling safe, which might sound like a weird word in this context, but it felt like home going into her studio and just making music. Playful. That was thanks to her, I think, because she really had a way to encapsulate what we are and what we wanted to do, and being a master at making all those thousands of micro-decisions. Some of them you notice, and some you don’t notice until after the fact.
It felt really good just to be able to lean on that, if that makes sense. Like, this feels amazing. I’m just gonna lean back and play. I’ve never felt like that in the studio. I’ve always felt like there’s an actual gun to my head right now. I have to perform the best I’ve ever performed before, and I fucking hate this, and I hate myself, and I suck.
It’s great. It is inspiring. It’s amazing.
Is there a moment on the record, stands out to you as an example of what she brought to the production, to the songs, having opinions on the songs? Was there something she suggested that you were like that turned out to be fucking incredible? Is there, or is there something that just in your mind says that’s Sylvia on the record?
Nothing like super obvious specific details, more like the vibe of it when I listened back to the album, was like, oh yeah, that thing, and oh yeah, that thing, and that mood, and that vibe, and oh, we did that. There’s a million small details again, all the small, small choices that that build an album you really like, or hopefully really like.
The single we just released, “It’s Neverending” with Jörgen Sandström on guest vocals. Yep, what she made of that was incredible to me, and what he made of the guest vocals was incredible, but she really, her mix of that album and her production of how to, how to sculpt that song was is amazing to me. It’s, it’s incredible. I think that one, for one, for one song, that song stands out to me.
One thing I wanted to ask you about specifically is the the drum line in “Iodine,” the way the thread throughout is the your snare onto the toms and back up, that sort of cyclical pattern back and forth, because the first time I put the record on, I sort of queued in on that immediately, and I was like, oh shit, this is hypnotic. It just goes back and forth throughout the whole song, so I was kind of curious, where that part came from, where I feel like you probably could have done a [more conventional beat], or you know, whatever, something more straightforward, but, but what’s there really stands that song out, and, and at least in my head, I was like, oh, that’s why that’s the opener.
I think it came from I wanted to find something that elevated what I felt that or those parts are, so tried a few things out, and they all sounded generic. Then I just played the most basic beginner drum fill backwards. Oh, there’s something here. Play it backwards from the darkest to the brightest tom, and then ending with the snare, and it was built on that, that vibe. Just playing that super basic thing backwards was like, oh, there’s something here that would sound nice to be repetitive, and I built on that, so it’s it’s built on a really, really simple idea, which I also kind of like. I always search for those really simple ideas. I’ve always been really impressed by musicians that find brilliance in the small detail, the simple details.
In moving on from Your Time to Shine, was there something specific you didn’t want or that you did want from this album?
It’s also a good question. I don’t know, probably, but we always… The ongoing discussion in the band is we try to evolve within what we are, within what is Monolord to us, which is very wide and which has also meant that some fans sometimes, with the release of an album, are thinking, what is this? This is not Monolord, this is not the band that I like, and that’s okay.
Do people say that?
Ever since Rust. Like, no, that’s wrong, or it’s too fast, or it’s too whatever. Whatever doom-stoner-sludge rule we broke, but I also don’t care, because we make music we like, and we make music that we feel sounds like Monolord, and it’s been the same through everything we’ve done. So, yes and no with this one, because it’s, it’s kind of been the similar process to the other albums I feel, in the way that we felt like we don’t want to repeat it ourselves. We don’t want to make music that sounds like just a repetition or a rehashing of an old riff or something like that, but there wasn’t anything specific with this album, other than working with the producer, that was the big one for us, and also going away from home, recording that, staying somewhere else, which we did for a month, recording it, and try what that would be like.
So, I think a lot of things happened in that process that I’m not really fully aware of right now, but I will be. Things will fall into place when I think back on it, and, oh yeah, that happened, and that happened, and that happened again, because recording is that controlled trainwreck, and you just like, whoa, okay. And there’s the album. I think it was really good for us to do the do it the way we did, being forced to be staying in the same apartment, working in the same studio at the same place in a really cozy but very chill, non-distracting place, that was great for the process, even though the material was written and rehearsed, and all that pre-produced in before we came there, but yeah, it helped the production, I think, a lot. That was a non-reply to what you asked, but sorry.
All three of you guys, you and Thomas and Mikka, all have solo-projects now. In light of this, how has your perspective on Monolord, what the band does and is, changed over time, and especially over the last five years?
You mean with those projects, with life, with the way Monolord is, as received by fans, just in general. Yeah, I think for me it’s been since the pandemic, which obviously turned the world upside down for all of us. That was the pandemic when that hit. That was the first time we’ve talked about this in the band, that was the first time we kind of woke up and reflected on what we were with the band, what we had accomplished up until then.
It’s like, whoa, wild, we’ve done all of this, we, we just worked, worked, worked up until then, and then the pandemic hit, and was like looking back and realizing that, oh, we’ve, we’ve done something here. This is amazing. It felt really good, and it felt for me kind of overwhelming. It hit me then and there what the band had become.
Also, at the same time, with the pandemic, and the time after that, I finally got some time to get back to side-projects and my solo album, and all of that, because that’s always been really important to me. I think it’s for me, it fuels the main project, it’s super-important, because you become blind to your own thing after a while if you don’t do anything else, and I know that varies wildly. I mean, there are people that would never play outside the main band and nothing else, and that’s fine, but for me it’s really important. It makes the creativity in the main band, in this case, clearer, more emphasized. It’s easier to understand what the band is.
For me, I feel with doing all of the other projects, playing with other people, playing in other contexts, playing other styles of music. I’m singing in a project, which is the most scary thing I’ve ever done, and that’s also why I said yes when asked, which is amazing. It puts a different perspective on what the main project is every time I do something else, in a very good way for me, I feel, and it keeps it inspiring.
Because doing the same thing in the same project with the same people over and over and again is amazing in one way, but also you start repeating yourself. You start doing the same things over and over again, and in the worst case, you get bored, and you make boring music, and you perform boring shows, and none of us want that. That’s kind of how the perspective has changed or shifted for me, I’ve kind of gone back to what I did before Monolord, so doing more, more of the side-projects along the main band.
And as someone who’s also a producer, aside from making people comfortable, what lessons did you take from Sylvia Massy?
I mean, that was the big one, that really was the big one, because all the amazing gear, and all the super expensive mics, and all the very vintage, very rare stuff is amazing. Of course, it is, but the craft is in the execution of it, I feel, and one big part of that is making people feel comfortable, feel safe, and not feel pushed, or feel, yeah, creating a good vibe.
It sounds so incredibly generic, saying that, but that really is the biggest thing. I mean, there’s been so many great albums recorded with that being the biggest factor in the weirdest places with subpar gear and all that, but the vibe has been perfect, and hence the album became perfect because of it.
There was one thing she did I have never done before, which I really enjoyed, that was jumping back and forth a lot, and at first I really wasn’t, that was kind of, whoa, okay, but I got used to it really quick, and I really enjoyed it.
From song to song, you mean?
Oh yeah, that too. Usually when you record, it’s kind of very linear. Not always, but usually you record drums, bass, lay guitars on top of that, then vocals, and after that it’s the mix. But she kind of jumped back and forth in between songs, and the mixing process started before the last things were recorded, so everything overlapped all the way through.
I felt it was amazing because it kept it inspiring all the way through. At least it did for me. It was never fatiguing, which is a big issue when you record. It’s like, okay, take 1004. To keep away from that, this was the perfect method — just jumping back and forth between things.
She often was like, let’s stop there, let’s go for this song or this part, and then go back to this tomorrow or another day. She was really great at keeping track of where everything was, what was finished and what wasn’t, and the priority of everything. I think that was the big thing, kind of managing the process.
I would imagine that kind of puts you in a different frame. I know when you’re in the studio tracking something, you can kind of get in your own head and get stuck on that one part or that one song. I would imagine jumping around like that gives you more of a big-picture perspective. All of a sudden you’re thinking about the whole album again.
It does, yeah, and it tricks you into feeling that everything is kind of new all the time. It’s like, oh yeah, that part, that’s right, this is fun, and then going back to the other part, oh yeah, this part. So absolutely, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, on all of the above.
When I’m sitting here recording Slower drums, which I absolutely love, I think it’s amazing, it’s so much fun, yes, but there’s a lot of screaming and a lot of “what the fuck” moments when I record stuff, because it’s kind of like, oh, come on, and then I repeat the same thing again and again and again.
So I need to learn from that, being better at jumping back and forth and being better at keeping track of where I am in the process. She had a gigantic whiteboard beside her.
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Monolord U.S. tour dates: Mizmor opens on all Western U.S. dates June 11 San Diego, CA Casbah June 12 Santa Cruz, CA The Catalyst June 13 San Francisco, CA Great American Music Hall June 14 Sacramento, CA Harlow’s June 16 Eugene, OR John Henry’s June 17 Portland, OR Nova PDX June 18 Seattle, WA Substation June 19 Bellingham, WA Structures Brewing June 20 Tacoma, WA Airport Tavern Music Hall June 23 Denver, CO Marquis Theater June 24 Salt Lake City, UT Urban Lounge June 25 Las Vegas, NV Bizarre Bar June 26 Pioneertown, CA Pappy & Harriet’s June 27 Los Angeles, CA The Regent Theater
Khemmis opens on all Eastern U.S. dates August 27 Chicago, IL Thalia Hall August 28 Louisville, KY Portal August 29 Atlanta, GA Garden Club August 30 Asheville, NC Eulogy August 31 Columbia, SC New Brookland Tavern September 2 Philadelphia, PA Underground Arts September 3 Brooklyn, NY Elsewhere September 5 Baltimore, MD Labor Daze September 6 Cookeville, TN Muddy Roots Festival September 8 Columbus, OH Ace of Cups September 9 Detroit, MI Sanctuary September 10 Indianapolis, IN Black Circle
European tour dates: May 28 Malmö, SE Plan B May 29 Stockholm, SE Slaktkyrkan May 30 Gothenburg, SE Monument July 30 Ghimbav, RO Rockstadt Extreme Festival August 7 Kortrijk, BE Alcatraz Festival October 6 Hamburg, DE Bahnhof Pauli October 7 Haarlem, NL Patronaat October 8 Eindhoven, NL Effenaar October 9 Sint-Niklaas, BE De Casino October 10 Paris, FR La Maroquinerie October 11 Nantes, FR Le Ferrailleur October 12 Toulouse, FR Le Rex October 13 Lyon, FR Jack Jack October 14 Aarau, CH KIFF October 15 Munich, DE Backstage October 16 Osnabrück, DE Bastard Club October 17 Cologne, DE Gebäude 9 November 4 Copenhagen, DK Stengade November 5 Berlin, DE Columbia Theater November 6 Dresden, DE Beatpol November 7 Warsaw, PL Hydrozagadka November 8 Krakow, PL Hype Park November 9 Brno, CZ Kabinet Múz November 10 Budapest, HU Dürer Kert November 11 Vienna, AT Arena November 12 Zagreb, HR Vintage Industrial Bar November 13 Milan, IT Legend November 14 Bologna, IT FreakOut November 15 Karlsruhe, DE P8
When I got back to the room after night one, I found that I’d left my SD card reader at home (it’s on the table next to my side of the couch; I saw it there before I left) and so had no way to transfer the day’s photos from my camera to my laptop. Fuckbuckets. I panic-texted The Patient Mrs., who generally speaking is magic, even across continents, but there wasn’t much she could do from New Jersey. My next panic text went to Matt Bacon, who came back with a camera store recommendation about five blocks down from the hotel. They opened at 10 on Saturday morning. It was very clearly as good as I was going to get, and I decided to sleep as much as I could if I wasn’t going to spend the next three hours sorting pics.
So I did. I had made plans for morning coffee with Howling Giant, and it turned out Tom Polzine had a reader he let me borrow so I could post the first day review, as well as this. I’m in debt to his generosity, and the coffee at that place around the corner from the hotel, the name of which I’ve already forgotten (again, because I was there in 2025 as well), but to which I’ll return if I’m fortunate enough to be here again next year, is pretty killer. I had to stop myself from buying a bag of beans, but I could eat about half a caesar salad and that felt like a godsend.
Went back to the room and finished the post, crashed a bit more but didn’t really sleep again from the morning, which I guess was fine since I survived. Called home to check in, always in a somewhat apologetic tone because I’m not there, but they of course were thriving as could only ever happen in my absence, so that’s fine. The Patient Mrs. had already checked me in for my flight at 10AM tomorrow, and of course that was on my mind all day. My night would end during The Sword for a Sunday 6AM wakeup, shower and go. Madness does not end.
Howling Giant’s soundcheck was quick and straightforward and among the more polite in terms of conversation that I’ve witnessed, though The Sword at Rockefeller a bit later you would never call rude either. They hit into a couple songs, which I was glad to see as I already knew I’d need to be out early, and was more than a bit dragging if you want honesty at the expense of cool. But they were one of the principal acts who taught the Millennials how to riff, and they’ve gotten due acclaim over the years — the hype when they came out was thick enough to stand on — but 20-odd years after the fact, the material holds up. It would be fun to see them later, even just for a little while. Earthless soundchecked next, which just felt like (and kinda was) me getting away with something.
Some more coffee and chat later, it was time for the actual show to start. Howling Giant were first at John Dee, and people were already waiting when I walked back in about 20 minutes before they went on. Their 2025 album, Crucible & Ruin (review here), remains fresh in mind, and though if I’m lucky I’ll see them at least three times this year, Desertfest Oslo being the first, it was also my first time seeing them as a four-piece with Adrian Zambrano on guitar, my first time seeing them since the record, and perhaps most crucially, my first time seeing them since bassist Sebastian Baltes reined in his formerly glorious locks for a shorter and doubtless lower maintenance look.
Opening night of their tour, opening the day to a crowded room — there was some unintentional feedback coming through from Zambrano’s guitar in the P.A. They’ll be at Desertfest Berlin on this run, and they finish at Freak Valley, which will likely also be a celebration but even though they didn’t cover “Song of Storms,” it was a set of banger after banger as their catalog has grown in he last decade since the first EP. The guitar thing stuck around and Polzine, Baltes and reminder-of-the-difference-a-great-creative-drummer-can-make drummer Zach Wheeler jammed slick while Zambrano got sorted, which took a couple minutes and some light electrical work, then a new head. The Marshall did the trick.
In absolute professional fashion, Zambrano entered the jam and wrapped it with a solo, then they were on to the next song with all the space of a beat, like nothing had happened. A blip at best in the momentum of their set. The place went off first when the guitar clicked on and then again when the song started. It was a rad move, smooth and no less confident in execution than the vocal harmonies been Wheeler and Polzine. In the end it was a monster set and it felt like the technical trouble only endeared them more to the room, as well as how they handled it. Must of what they played was Crucible & Ruin stuff, but the title-track of 2023’s clarion Glass Future (review here), and “Tempest and the Liar’s Gateway” slower but a definite highlight regardless. Even with Earthless getting ready to go on upstairs, I watched the whole set. My neck would be sore getting on the plane, but seriously, who cares about that when they’re closing with “Sunken City?” Fire emojis from here to Nashville.
I’m not sure what you’re supposed to say to an Earthless set other than “hey yes please.” The long-running Californian mostly-instrumental trio playing first assured Rockefeller would be packed early, and they dug in with about a 10-minute buildup and were onward from there with their signature immersive shred, guitarist Isaiah Mitchell, bassist Mike Eginton and drummer Mario Rubalcaba like a machine that gets on stage and does that thing, casting expanses of psychedelic rock, melting your brain and mine and everyone else’s like they do. You expect that from Earthless, and they delivered all the headspinning, all the twist and all the longform fluidity that’s promised when they’re on a bill. And also as one has come to expect over the years, they’re on plenty of bills over here between this, Desertfest in London and Berlin, Mitchell’s slated Tranquonauts appearance at Freak Valley in Germany, and so on.
Adjusting one’s perception of time, a half-hour was fine before you knew it and it felt like they had barely stopped to take a breath, because they hadn’t. I found a spot to sit and let the sound wash over for a bit and that’s always a good choice as regards the experience. The last time I saw them was SonicBlast 2023 (review here) in Portugal, and though the form of what they do never really changes unless it’s one of those times they do a tune or two with vocals or cover whichever heavy ’70s act it might be, every show is different and I was lucky to catch this one, even if I was so worn out my eyes were closing. It was a good thing I wasn’t stoned or I’d have been screwed. More water, more coffee like I was trying to burn a hole in the lining of my stomach, then back downstairs for Blackwater Holylight.
Granted I’m not chasing down all their press or anything, but I don’t see nearly enough people giving credit to Blackwater Holylight as heavygaze pioneers, and I assume that’s a sexism thing. Set to a kick you could feel in your chest and feet both because the floor was shaking, they had all the mist one would hope for in their sound — this would make them a fitting one-two with the grungeier Daevar a short time later — but I’d never seen them play as a trio before and it let their moments of push come through a little more directly, and that suited them as well. They packed the place out, as one would expect, and churned through enough brown-note tone that I thought I might need to go back to the hotel room, but were methodical enough in their delivery that the coolness in their sound became its own presence on stage. They’ve been at this a while now, so fair enough, but the last time I saw them was four years ago and their metallic delve is all the more refined now.
Maybe most prevalent of all was a sense of flow, and that made them kin to Earthless too, but on a much different path in terms of aesthetic. The sampled strings were welcome when they kicked in, but the band hardly stopped once they got going, and having momentum behind a sound so outwardly languid felt like a win in and of itself. They’ve been a vibe all along — even before everything was vibes — but the complexity that maturity has brought to their dynamic, as well as the continued prevalence of melody, made the corresponding crush even more theirs.
They brought out a second full stack for Conan at Rockefeller, and that was probably a reasonable thing to do. The UK omnidestroyers were on tour in the US recently, and did a show in Kingston, New York, with Geezer that I very much wanted to see but couldn’t as it conflicted with life, so catching them here was a bit of bruising reconciliation. They are who they are stylistically, and aggression has remained central, but they’ve gotten noisier along the way while holding firm to the tonal extremity of their earlier days. If I said they killed, I wouldn’t do so expecting anyone to be surprised, but it was so satisfying just the same to be flattened by their riffs and cathartic pummel.
I don’t know what movies were splicing together on the screen behind them while they played, but it was practical effects and violent wizardry just the same — could’ve been classics and I wouldn’t know because I’m a poseur philistine — but the visuals were an added atmospheric element to run alongside all that warhammering and punishment. I’m pretty sure somebody’s face fell off, so about as fitting as it gets. It would’ve been nice to see them without having to drive to NYC last month, but I’ll take hoping on a plane to Oslo and witnessing them at Desertfest Oslo for consolation anytime. I didn’t know it, but as exhausted as I was after Howling Giant finished, the much-bleaker gallop of “Battle in the Swamp” and “Levitation Hoax” was precisely what I needed to pick me up for the rest of the night ahead. Deathly, and even more brutal than the fart cloud I passed through getting photos on the balcony. Oh, humans.
Daevar were on soon — train don’t stop — and John Dee was ready. Their 2025 Sub Rosa LP (review here) was a deeper dive into slow-nod ’90s riffing, and it felt good to see them and recognize songs from the album, as they’ve continued to grow as songwriters over the last few years and fleshed out the murk of their beginnings. I heard a little Type O Negative even, which is something just about bound to land with me. And they’ve progressed quickly. To wit, I enjoyed seeing them for the first time at Freak Valley 2024 (review here), but the Sub Rosa material has a richness that stands out. They felt in conversation with Blackwater Holylight, as anticipated, but diverged as well into their own roll, and that was dense and engrossing.
They spoke out against injustices against women in Iran, which was the only political sentiment I’d heard from the stage in the two days of Desertfest. I’m all for escapism, don’t get me wrong — just as an example, I’m in Norway this weekend — but I respect having something to say and saying it and, frankly, doom needs more of that and less “I’m not political,” though if you think human rights are a political issue, that’s part of the problem too. It was refreshing to hear, despite the fact that every time I think about the situation in my home country I want to cry as much as rage against it. I could go on here, and probably should, though it feels a bit like voidward screaming. Either way, it has been encouraging to see (also hear) Daevar come into their own, and a pleasure to watch them on stage again.
I did some socializing — it recently occurred to me most of my interpersonal communicating not with my family or at concerned meetings at my daughter’s school happens at shows, and that that’s a thing worth investing in — ahead of Dozer, but there was no, no, no fucking way I was missing their set. Not even for pleasant conversation. Every time I’ve seen Dozer they’ve leveled the place, and every time I have seen them has felt like a gift, and this was the same. Fredrik Nordin led the crowd in singing happy birthday to Tommi Holappa, as if the songs weren’t sweet enough, and the band ran through a succession of inimitable grooves like the masters they are. Similar to King Buffalo last night, they weren’t the headliner but they were my headliner, if you know what I mean.
There was a point in my life when I thought I’d never see Dozer. That seems so sad now, on the occasion of my fifth time doing so, and they are a reminder of how fortunate I am to have the life I do, here and at home. I don’t believe in a soul, but mine felt awfully good watching Dozer anyhow, and standing over by Johan Rockner’s side of the stage with Sebastian Olsson’s snare cutting through the low end was a gorgeous experience. I didn’t understand most of what Nordin said from the stage between songs, but even in the photo pit as they were starting, you had to be into it. Electric in the figurative and literal sense. I know I’m not here to pick favorites. It’s not what I do and not who I want to be, but I was a Dozer fan before I ever wrote about them and the ensuing two decades-plus has only endeared them further. One of the best heavy rock bands of all time — all. time. — and an onstage force unto themselves. Highlight of the weekend, highlight of the year. My only complaint is the hour went too quick. A singular tumult.
Where do you go from there? The answer was to extremity, and fair enough for the superlative aural weight of Primitive Man, legit giving Conan a run for their money in tone while embracing a nastiness born from sludge but that has mutated into something next-stage that I don’t have a name for other than monstrous. A huge consuming thing, built to tear flesh from bone, stylistically speaking. I had gotten to chat with their tour manager early in the day, and I wasn’t aware that this show closes out a 35-date tour for Primitive Man, but they were hardly limping to the finish. Lumbering, yes, but strident in existential victory. They are a challenging band, and always have been, but if you can hang in with them, all that onslaught has a reward beyond simply making it through, and they capture something inhuman about the world that has a value bordering on the literary. They’ve pushed themselves as artists all the while, and while there’s rampant disdain in their music, the sheer physical presence of their sound is undeniable.
I did my best, but it was getting late and my head was half out the door, at the risk of honesty. The Sword would be on soon, but with Primitive Man still bashing away to headline the night at John Dee, I said a round of preemptive goodbyes to a few of the incredible people here and reiterated how fortunate I felt to have been at Desertfest Oslo again, which is really the only way I have of putting it. The next morning I’d fly back to Jersey and be glad to get there, but this was a special couple days and as much for the community as the acts on the bill, though, Dozer.
Some day I’ll watch a full The Sword set again. This wasn’t that day and I knew that coming in, but that doesn’t mean they made it easy to go. I found myself hanging in the back of the room trying to convince myself to stay put, but the go impulse almost always wins. I don’t know what The Sword’s plan is as they make the inevitable transition from reunion-band to working-band, but riffs have always been on their side and 20 years after people used to complain about “hipster metal,” they stand tall having proved themselves right over and over and over. If you need a convenient metaphor for the history of heavy rock more broadly, there you go.
I thank you for reading.
Thank you to Ole, Preben, Dan, and everyone at Desertfest Oslo for having me back. Thanks to Tom from Howling Giant for the SD reader when I needed it (and have a great tour; see you at Freak Valley). Thank you Matt Bacon and Kaia.
Thank you to The Patient Mrs. for the time and the support from home. I can’t even begin to tell you how tired I’m going to be when I get home, but hell, I needed this. Really. From Thulsa Doom to Russian Circles and Earthless to The Sword, there wasn’t one single minute I regretted coming here, and if I’m so lucky as to be invited back, I’ll be here in a fucking minute so long as that minute is also an eight-hour flight from Newark. Thanks to The Patient Mrs. for booking my flight.
The lesson of the weekend is the heavy underground is a treasure and a sanctuary. It was a pleasure to come here and be obliterated by it. To break myself on it like a rock tossed off a bridge onto more rocks. Like I said, I needed this.
More pics after the jump. No posts tomorrow, May 11.
Okay, here we go. Sorry in advance for the typos. I’ll do my best to correct as I see them.
No sleep on the plane overnight meant that by the time I flopped through the entrance of the hotel, I was exhausted to a point of emotional fragility. No, I wasn’t actually crying, but it wasn’t far off as I begged at the counter for an early check-in. I had to wait a bit, so I sat in the lobby, said hi to Tor-Erik from Slomosa and three-fourths of Howling Giant, who were passing through for coffee — oh shit I need coffee — and whathaveyou. About an hour and an early-check-in fee later, I happily galavanted, flailing from joy, to pick up my bags and head upstairs.
In the end, I slept about three hours, which isn’t enough, but so it goes. Nobody comes to a music festival to be well rested. I checked in, got my credentials and made my way to the outside stage at Revolver, where Håndgemeng were soon to repeat the madness of last year’s outdoor appearance. It was packed by the time I got there. I probably should’ve slept less, but my consolation was going down the way to Rockefeller for Thulsa Doom’s soundcheck. They brought all the drums. I tried for coffee but couldn’t find any — I was gonna get one at the hotel but there was a line and I wanted to get moving. John Dee was still closed but was playing Sabbath when I walked through, so good things happening one way or the other. The day would ultimately start with High Desert Queen down there, and of course that’s a riot.
The Austin outfit were starting their ‘Riffs as Big as Texas’ tour with this slot, and I’m not sure who’d do better getting an early crowd on board for a busy weekend, though Håndgemeng might have a thing to say about that up at Revolver. Or they might not, because fuckall. But the point is High Desert Queen are a high-energy band, and that’s what you want in that spot. They brought it certainly when I saw them in January at Planet Desert Rock Weekend (review here), and apart from (my) jetlag in the other direction, Oslo was no different.
A hard snare hit snapped through the P.A., and they were off. Of course, frontman Ryan Garney was all over the place — Garney gonna Garney — and people were moving out front as there was little choice in the matter amid such infectious riffery. They noted from the stage it was their first time in Oslo and ran through a succession from their two to-date LPs with not a bummer in the bunch and no real drop in vitality, despite the fact that the songs do more than just shove. “Head Honcho” is always fun. People clapping along to “Ancient Aliens” and such. If all goes to plan, this won’t be the last time I see them this year, and they held that room captivated. I never found coffee and High Desert Queen made that hurt a little less at the start of my day.
The bar upstairs was open when I went up ahead of Thulsa Doom, so I got a pair of espressos — is that self-care? — and had to be told to take my card out of the machine because I was so out of it. It was beeping, not without volume. I told myself last year I wasn’t going to play it so tight on 2026, but here we are. I said a quick hi to Cas from Sasquatch, who’s here playing bass in Nebula, and went up to the Rockefeller balcony to drink my coffee. Already it was filling up for Thulsa Doom, and reasonably so. I don’t know when their last record was, and so far as I know they’re not out touring like High Desert Queen and some of the others on this bill, going from Desertfest to Desertfest to Desertfest in the ecosystem of Spring festivals in Europe — living the dream, as it were — but the long-running countrymen heroes absolutely owned the big stage and the big room and I’d have expected no less. It made me wish Ron was here to see it. You know Ron.
They seemed to be enjoying it as much as the crowd as well, and that made the set even better, seeming as they did to screw around until it was suddenly time for a three-part harmony. Their singer’s arm was in a sling, and maybe he was more subdued than usual on stage, I haven’t seen them before so I don’t know, but he and the whole band nailed it either way, and having seen the soundcheck, the actual performance was a thrill on a different level. Better band than anybody outside Norway knows, it would appear.
They were doing tattoos in the art room. I was thinking about getting a little Triforce on my hand, but probably not. Pretty sure I don’t have enough power, wisdom, or courage to justify that, but it would be a fun moment to show up at home with it and show The Pecan. I went and got some water instead. Gotta hydrate. So important.
In doing so I left my phone where I had been sitting on the side. I retraced my steps and asked the guy in the Turbojugend jacket presently occupying that spot of he had found it and dude very smoothly pulled it from his pocket. I gave him a big hug, said thank you, and went to watch the rest of the set. Spelljammer were doing a line check downstairs at John Dee for their set, but the photo pit there meant I and my b recently recovered technology could enjoy more of Thulsa Doom, so that’s what I did. Not a band I ever imagined seeing, honestly. I’ll be surprised if Garney doesn’t bring them over to the States for Ripplefest Texas next year, or at least try.
They broke it down and got bluesy (-er) with about 10 minutes left, but built a nod back up from there — the stuff of classic stoner rock. After a little while, it was time to get downstairs for Spelljammer, but the end of Thulsa Doom was immense and I’m glad to have caught it. If you’ve ever found yourself curious though as to the difference between stoner rock and stoner metal, the Toner Low-worthy nod-worship enacted by Spelljammer, immediately after Thulsa Doom, offered convenient distinction.
I’d had another espresso by then and so was close enough to consciousness that there was something there in my mind for the Swedish trio to steamroll, and that they must certainly did. The green lights (and no, they didn’t stay green the whole set) could hardly have been more suitable to the floorshaking tonality, a thickened lurch that, while invariably influenced by Sleep, maintained its own riff structure and slow crawl. I love seeing a room get flattened, and that’s exactly what Spelljammer were doing to John Dee.
It was such a hyper-specific, dug-in thing. I mean, think about the normies you know. Your friends, coworkers/classmates, maybe even your family if you don’t all have the right kind of sauce on your neurology for this kind of thing to speak to you. I would love to see someone walk into the middle of a Spelljammer set by accident and have no idea or context for what’s happening. Oh that racket? That’s decades of Sabbath riffing exponentially built upon by decades of international underground experimentation and progression. What’s that? Why’s it so loud? Because you can’t feel the kickdrum in your stomach otherwise, that’s why.
Peaceful drone in Rockefeller ahead of Pelican. The Chicago outfit, who it turns out are my favorite emo band — being instrumental helps their cause in that regard; also the chugg, which is chug enough to warrant a second ‘g’ — took the stage with momentum at their back from the last few years of touring and their LP Flickering Resonance (review here) that came out a year ago next week, with the original lineup reclaiming its sound as they did. It was a raw joy to see them again. Last time, somehow, was Freak Valley 2022 (review here), so of course I was looking forward to the newer material in the set. They did not disappoint in that regard or any other, and that they were sharing the main stage with fellow Chicagoan sans-vocal heavies Russian Circles — with King Buffalo between, no less — felt like something special to see, and so it was.
Moving through the crowd was swimming through the sea of nodding heads. The band hit it on pro-shop style, got on stage, railed into “Cascading Crescent,” saying not a word but waving to the crowd for a reciprocated hello beforehand. What a band, and what a time to be a Pelican fan. Any “all cylinders” cliché you want to throw their way, they’re ready for it, and they were just so fucking good and so goddamn heavy that I put my phone down and stopped writing for a minute to just listen and watch the show as it unfolded. The place went off between every song, including when the band apologized for not having been to Oslo since 2007 ahead of “Ascending” from the 2026 EP (review here) of the same name. “Ascending” is a little slower, so the effect after the opening salvo was of the band getting deeper into it, and it was just a pleasure to see and hear. I don’t know if a live record could do justice to Pelican on stage, but I’d take one anyhow in the Flickering Resonance cycle.
In perhaps the weekend’s most brutal clash, Nebula were about to go on outside at Revolver in what I had no doubt would be a set epic enough to became part of Desertfest Olso lore — yo, did you see when Nebula played Revolver? — but I knew there was no way in hell I was going to be able to get in, and Pelican for sure made it less of a challenge than it would otherwise have been to stay put. I closed my eyes for a bit, became part of that sea, and while this day hasn’t been easy necessarily after not sleeping, everything else kind of evaporated and I just spent some time in the music, receiving a dose of the rejuvenation that’s why I still do this in defiance of logic, good decision-making, time and money. I don’t want to oversell it by calling it spiritual, but guitarist Trevor Shelley DeBrauw said on stage they were a band who loved each other and that’s what the band was to them, and it made perfect sense.
The poster I’d been using to guide myself through the day because I’m old had Blackwater Holylight next on the John Dee stage, but when I went down there and was talking to a dude also there a couple minutes early, he said the Broadcast app had Astralplane next. And so it was. Cool by me, as Blackwater Holylight were playing Saturday instead and I got to see another band I’d probably never see if I wasn’t here. Astralplane have their cosmic elements, and sometimes they have a singing drummer, but the heart of their sound is in the riffs and tone and that’s just fine. They came out in nothing-too-fancy style and immediately locked in. I don’t know what they were saying from the stage because I’m an ignorant American, but people applauded and seemed stoked, so I’ll just assume it was something about a new record because watching them play live for the first time, I also would be stoked on more Astralplane.
Some continuity from Pelican in camaraderie and warmth of sound, naturally, but Astralplane were mellower by a margin, and in pursuit of a different kind of groove accordingly. I was lucky to be there for the set, and glad for that switch since it would’ve been less likely that I could’ve caught them at Revolver anyhow. Cool to see the room fill up as the set went on as well. I guess some of that was people coming over from The end of Nebula but rad just the same.
I had watched a bit of King Buffalo’s check upstairs at Rockefeller and they weren’t through “Silverfish” at the start of their set before they demonstrated plainly that guitarist/vocalist Sean McVay doesn’t even need to stand up to kick ass. He played started due to a recent injury — pretty sure it was an ankle, which hurts like hell for a long time in my experience — though of course with Scott Donaldson drumming and Dan Reynolds on bass, he was hardly acting alone toward the cause. I’m ready for a new King Buffalo album at this point, which is something I probably wouldn’t have said even this time last year, but I’m excited for what they still have to offer in songwriting. They’re touring here in Europe and just announced a couple Midwest US shows, and if you’ve never seen them, I’m not sure what urging I could give you would be enough. I wound up on Reynolds’ side of the room, and I call it his because the bass was so thick that it shook the wall I was leaning on because I’m so frickin” tired.
They had the standalone single “Balrog” (posted here), but I thought I heard some newer sounds in the set as well, though I wouldn’t swear to it, but their digging back for “Drinking From the River Rising” was appreciated as well. Really you could just extrapolate that across the board to the whole time they were on stage. I don’t know how many times I’ve seen King Buffalo at this point — less than some, surely, but more than a few — and they’re never exactly the same. The setlist is different, or the room is different, or it’s just a mood thing, but one way or the other, there aren’t a ton of bands I’d rather behold in a stage on a given evening than King Buffalo. It felt like the lineup was doing you favors all night.
Because basically it was, and the thread continued into Dopelord back downstairs. Singing along to “The Chosen One,” “Evil Spell,” “Addicted to Black Magic,” and so on was apparently my pull-out-the-earplugs moment for the day, and it was like I’d waited until I could do absolutely max damage for it, but I guess that’s how it goes sometimes. The Warsaw stoner-doom four-piece toy with occult themes and yes, they brought enough satan for the whole class in “Hail Satan” alone, never mind the rest of it. What a blast. This was my second time seeing them after Budapest in 2024 (review here), and between signing to Season of Mist, celebrating 15 years as a band and opening for Napalm Death on tour earlier this year, they’ve been busy in the interim.
Their 2023 album, Songs for Satan was packed with memorable tunes like some of the aforementioned, but new or old, the worship of riff and dark gods remains. They’re another one who, if you’re not already into this music and the deviant subculture that values it, they probably make no sense or come off angry or whatever, but in the genre they’re just so, so much fun. They asked the crowd when they got up today and said they were so tired from the travel that they were going to die in 40 minutes when the set was over, and got a laugh, but while their tempos are mostly pretty languid, there was no discernible fatigue in their performance. Instead, the roll was palpable in the room and they basked in it, speaking of celebrations. The room was with them all the way.
It was getting late, but Russian Circles promised more chug to come and there you go. The evening’s headliner have always had a lot in common with Pelican, but more influenced by post-rock, and while on paper it’s instrumental heavy from Chicago, there’s never been any trouble distinguishing between the two parties, and both are readily identifiable when listening. Dopelord induced an oblivion of nod, and Russian Circles were a turn in another direction, less gleeful in their delivery, for sure, but with texture and atmosphere as primary elements of their sound. My favorite memory will always be seeing them in 2013 in New York at Radio City Music Hall (review here) and then skipping out to get Mexican food with my wife before Coheed and Cambria went on, but that doesn’t mean I want glad to see them. The weight and intensity of 2022’s Gnosis (review here) made that record a bit of an outlier for them, but in a most welcome way, and at a welcome point in the evening.
Even though I would credit the hotel shower I’d taken before heading over to the fest with getting me through the day, I stank by the end of it and was fairly rundown. With Saturday still to go, I made my way with deliberate pauses toward the back and out of the venue. My own afterparty of sorting photos and falling asleep at the keyboard awaited, plus somewhere right around their third song, my keep-going chemicals shorted and I realized the only thing I’d eaten all day was a protein bar, also before I left the hotel room. I’ve never been especially good at being a person. Would you believe I give my kid shit for being a picky eater? Ridiculous, the level of hypocrisy.
So, food, work, and rest were the order of it, but what a day this turned out to be. Not that I wasn’t looking forward to a bunch of the bands, but I was coming back no matter who was playing, so that it worked out so righteously was a boon. Saturday last year was hard for me to keep my head in, already anxious about the travel home as I was. How it would play out this year I guess I’d have to live through it to find out, and I was definitely looking forward to that.
More pics after the jump, with special thanks to Tom Polzine for letting me borrow his SD card reader. More later. Thanks for reading.
This morning, before class, I looked up how to say “I’m a nervous flier” in Hungarian. Has more to do with class than the trip to Oslo I’m to undertake in a couple hours, but it’s ‘ideges repülő vagyok.’ I’m not sure I’m not calling myself a pilot there. “Egy ideges utas a repülőgépen.” I’m a nervous person on the plane, or something close to that, I think.
When the plane that isn’t actually here yet lands tomorrow morning, I’ll be in Oslo for the two days of Desertfest Oslo 2026. Starts Friday afternoon, runs through Saturday and I’m out Sunday. Quick trip, but that’s what it needs to be so that’s what it is. On the app it looks like a full flight, which sucks because I often have an open seat next to me on this trip. Not this time, apparently.
Glad (?) to report that the ass-end of Terminal B at Newark Airport hasn’t changed its squalorous vibes since last I was in it. The carpet, ’00s industrial. The lighting, a shade of dull one might call ‘Walmart sad.’ You are a chicken being loaded on a truck to slaughter or otherwise you’d already be in one of the lounges. I hear the SAS lounge comes with free healthcare.
Security was dirt-easy, though. I didn’t have to take my shoes off, or take my laptop out of my bag. They found a water bottle I didn’t know was in the back of my camera bag, but it was empty so I didn’t even need to throw it out. I think it had more to do with the hours I’m traveling than anything else, but I’ll take it however it comes. I’ve waited an hour and a half on that line before. In summer.
My flight takes off in three hours, which gives me plenty of time to sit and wax poetic about that smell, or the copious advertainment on the tvs, or the warning on repeat that it’s your fault if you get into a fake Uber and get raped or murdered. This is America. We take care of ourselves. Except we don’t. And also nobody else does it either. So we die.
You can see the Desertfest schedule above, and golly it’s nice to look at. The only snag is that last year, Revolver was super-difficult to get into because it’s teeny-tiny and a basement under the bar proper, adjacent to the outside stage. That’s going to make 16 a challenge tomorrow night, let alone Bottenhavet or MR.BISON on Saturday. Nebula outside will be legendary, and thus probably packed out into the alley that runs between the streets on either side of the venue. John Dee and Rockefeller had photo pits last year, and so that was doable. Fingers crossed for no changes there.
I think this will be my sixth time in Norway, which means I know to turn right when I get out of international arrivals and get an espresso as I make my way over to the train into town. Before that, of course, I need to get through the unpleasantness of the flight. I have never enjoyed flying, or any part of the process of commercial air travel, but I do these things because — contrary to what the new agers said — it’s not the journey, it’s the destination. I am excited for what this weekend will bring, will be glad to see friends and hear and see killer performances.
If you’re going to be in town, please say hi. I’m awkward as shit if you couldn’t tell, so heads up on that, but it’s nice to talk to people anyhow. And at this point a lot of my with-friends socializing happens at these things, so my impulse is to make the most of it. Anybody wanna grab a cup of coffee?
Alright. On that note of what might possibly be perceived as vulnerability, I’m cutting myself off. I need to find water before boarding starts and, well, that’s only two and a half hours from now, barring delay. In truth, I’m gonna sit for a while, charge my phone, and veg out as much as my anxiousness to get this flight over with will allow.
I’ll be posting over the weekend (no posts next Monday), and thanks if you keep up with the fest coverage at all.
