Posted in Whathaveyou on August 7th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Seeing Deathchant live is always a pleasure, and I’m sure the Los Angeles four-piece will be out again in celebration of their upcoming fourth full-length, Kova. The newly-announced album is titled in honor of a friend of the band who passed away, and is heralded by the single/opening track “Enemy,” which is out today, while the album has a Sept. 25 release through RidingEasy Records.
Below, the PR wire tells a tale of purpose and sonic expansion that’s intriguing around a band who’ve always been more about impact in my mind, bridging thrashing aggression and heavy rock groove and tonal presence, but they’ve been at it for at least the better part of a decade by now, so branching out in sound makes sense as well. I haven’t heard the record yet or I’d probably have some opinion or other, but presumably I’ll get there.
Here’s hoping I remember to embed the single before this post goes live. Anyone wanna take a bet on that? I sure don’t:
We are all at the unforgiving whim of life’s extremes. For every moment of overwhelming sorrow, there’s another of indescribable bliss. For every death, there’s a birth. For all of the darkness, there’s just as much light.
Deathchant have never shied away from extremes. Their sound seamlessly oscillates from high-octane rubber-burning riffs and gravelly chants to purring feedback and melodies as expansive as the desert at night. After gathering millions of streams, earning enthusiastic acclaim, and an endless string of packed shows, the Los Angeles, CA quartet—Thomas J Lemieux a.k.a. TJ [guitar, vocals, keys, bass], Doug Stuckey [guitar, vocals], Quinn-George Camacho [bass], and Nick “Joose” Mcdonnell [drums]—explore life’s highs, lows, and everything in between on their fourth full-length LP, KOVA [RidingEasy Records].
Named after their late friend Davey Kova, it’s simultaneously a raucous send-off worthy of a Viking, an introspective look at manhood, and a dyed-in-the-wool badass barnstorming hard rock record.
“To me, Deathchant means very intense brotherhood and friendship,” observes TJ. “I have a truly safe place to express every facet of myself. Even though we’re really heavy, this is also a vehicle for me to explore softer sides of music and wear my heart on my sleeve. For the last nine years, it’s allowed me to be a raw nerve. It was often brutal, because we lived our lives in the world of motorcycle culture, drugs, and partying. At the same time, I always had space for reflection. We implicitly trust one another. It’s rare for a friendship—let alone a four-way working relationship. I recently became a new dad, went through a divorce, and experienced serious loss. All of these massive shifts fed into the music, making it angrier, but more revealing and intimate.”
Back in 2018, Deathchant began to make noise on the West Coast. The group captivated a cult-like audience with the self-titled Deathchant [2019], Waste [2021], and Thrones [2023]. They canvased the globe on tour, playing at festivals such as Psycho Las Vegas, Desertfest Belgium, Keep It Low Festival, and SonicBlast Festival.
While writing KOVA, they said goodbye to its namesake. “My best friend Davey Kova was a dude who white-knuckled life, treated each day like it was his last, took chances, rode fast, and partied hard, but he was the sweetest guy you could ever meet,” sighs TJ. “It’s a weird way to live, yet it’s beautiful. He passed away during the writing process. The record seemed to finish itself after that. The album is a eulogy to not just Davey, but countless friends we’ve lost in the last couple of years.”
TJ helmed the album as producer and sent it off to Kurt Ballou’s legendary God City Studio in Salem, MA where Zach Weeks mixed it. Sonically, it maintained the edge that fans have come to know and expect with some slight tweaks.
“KOVA is different,” affirms the frontman. “I expounded on the lyrics more than I usually would’ve, because the subject matter is so personal. The vocals are also bit dryer and more intentional. You really feel it.”
The opener and first single “Enemy” definitely sets the tone. Feedback groans until a melodic lick pushes the song into overdrive. It culminates on an ominous refrain, “You’re the enemy…Keep the enemy close.” Fret-burning leads entwine at a breakneck pace, bleeding into a screeching solo drenched in wah and echo.
“It’s lyrically related to ‘Mirror’ from Thrones,” he reveals. “You’re ultimately realizing that you are your own worst enemy. So, you’re drowning the ego and being real with yourself about who you are. It’s aligned with the overall concept.”
Then, there’s the two-part title track “Kova (Crawl) Intro” and “Kova (Crawl).” On “Crawl,” acoustic strumming creaks beneath a soulful tear-soaked verse as he laments, “I heard that little boy go quiet, with heavy hearts we said goodbye.” Its heavier companion stomps forward on a swinging rhythm and chugging groove. Offering up a coronation over power chords, the hook booms with bravado, “Call him the king of wild hearts.”
“I was initially writing the song with a vague character in mind,” TJ goes on. “Davey died, and it became clear that the song was fully about him. That’s really when the chorus came to fruition. You’re watching someone slowly kill themselves in a tragic way. The acoustic and heavy versions are equally important. The two parts resemble the ripple effect Davey’s two sides had on people—the dark and the light sides.”
Then, there’s “Worshipper.” A fiery riff smolders in the foreground, giving way to a sample of Shannon Lay above distant gothic strings. “It’s dark as fuck,” he sighs. “I was dwelling in a really pessimistic place with a negative world view. I was depressed and drinking a lot. I had a few people around me who were leaning into Narcotics Anonymous, Alcoholics Anonymous, religion, and therapy. All of those things may be wonderful. However, they can also give a narcissist an artillery of weapons to use against others. ‘Worshipper’ embodies the weaponization of spirituality by a fake person on a soapbox. You’re worshipping a false prophet.”
“Forgiveness” hinges on bluesy guitar transmissions and a dusty vocal. TJ muses, “Truth is a chamber of bullets and echoes of friends.” Flanked by wailing six-string cries, he accepts, “The curtain keeps closing, but it’s too late to leave now. Goddamn.”
“The lyrics lined up with everything else,” he says. “It’s the human existence of battling addiction and living life to the fullest.”
Ultimately, this is the soundtrack for waking up and going full throttle in pursuit of whatever drives you.
“We’re lucky to be able to tell stories of a legend who’s not with us anymore,” TJ leaves off. “When you have good friends and bandmates around you though, the phoenix rises, and something beautiful comes out of that loss. Life is tough, incredible, and gnarly. Go ahead, embrace who you are, and keep going.”
KOVA is out WorldWide September 25, 2026 on RidingEasy Records
Posted in Whathaveyou on July 28th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Two more killer acts for the Mojave Experience 2027 lineup, which is the same story it’s been for the last however many weeks. But with Deathchant, next year’s edition of the Joshua Tree-based festival (it’s the second one) hits a new level of aggression in sound, as the Los Angeles outfit are wont to thrash and a force onstage. This while Baltimore’s Magick Potion highlight a vintage ’70s-heavy style to bring no less of an individualized perspective to the lineup. This is how it’s gone the whole time. You can see the full lineup below.
I looked at the calendar with The Patient Mrs. for next March and she was like, “well as long as it’s not the weekend that it is, you’re fine to go,” which means that, unless her thing doesn’t come together — a trip taking students to Greece over her Spring Break; I can’t even begrudge something so rad — I won’t be able to be there for this. That’s a huge bummer, regardless of the validity of the circumstances. I’m keeping my fingers crossed something changes between now and then, not the lead as the bill gets radder and radder.
From socials:
Mojave Experience – March 19–21, 2027 Joshua Tree Lake, California
Deathchant
Somewhere between the endless highways, worn amplifiers, and the wide-open spaces of the Southwest, Deathchant found its voice. Their music carries the swagger of classic heavy rock, the hypnotic pull of psychedelia, and the weight of doom without leaning too far into any one corner.
Since forming in Southern California, the band has earned a reputation for live shows that feel as loose as they are precise. Twin guitars weave together over driving rhythms, stretching songs into something that feels alive from one night to the next. Albums like Deathchant, Waste, and Thrones have made them a favorite among listeners who appreciate heavy music with depth and atmosphere.
Deathchant joins the Mojave Experience lineup with the kind of set that was made for the desert. Expect towering riffs, winding solos, and the feeling that, for a little while, the outside world has fallen away.
Magick Potion
The road from Maryland to the Mojave isn’t a short one, but some music seems destined to find its way to the desert.
From the outskirts of Baltimore, Maryland, Magick Potion channels the raw spirit of late ‘60s and early ‘70s heavy rock into something unmistakably their own. Inspired by bands like Blue Cheer, Budgie, and The Amboy Dukes, the trio leans into towering riffs, thick grooves, and flashes of psychedelia without sounding like a nostalgia act. Their self-titled debut, released through RidingEasy Records, put that approach on full display and introduced the band to a much wider audience.
On stage, the songs stretch out and breathe, fueled by roaring guitars, relentless rhythm, and the kind of chemistry that only comes from a three-piece locked into the same current. It’s heavy rock with dirt under its fingernails and enough swing to keep the whole thing moving.
From Baltimore to the Mojave, Magick Potion adds another layer to the landscape at Mojave Experience 2027. When those first notes roll across the desert, the distance between the two won’t seem very far.
Artists Playing: Red Fang Fatso Jetson Sasquatch Brant Bjork Trio Big Scenic Nowhere Mondo Generator High Desert Queen Heavy Temple Deathchant Yawning Balch Unida Sons of Arrakis Magick Potion 20 Watt Tombstone
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 12th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
Two days ago, bright and early as the time approached 7AM in Oslo, I was in a cab headed to the city’s central train station. I’d hop on the Flytoget Express and go to the airport momentarily to go home, but on the way I looked out the left window and saw as we passed by the Kulturkirken Jakob, where in October, the annual Høstsabbat is held. I’ve had the pleasure several times over of hearing bands fill the massive space in that converted church while playing on the altar stage, or crushing with outright glee in its crypt basement, and, well, it was nice to see the place again after a few years, even in passing.
The first announcement came out this past weekend while I was at Desertfest Oslo. There were posters up and I wound up chatting with some of my fellow attendees about the badassery of Domkraft, Earthbong, Old Horn Tooth and so on, the appeal of both the circumstance of the setting and of the initial lineup itself. There’s a lot to like, and a couple bands I don’t know toward the bottom of the list, but that’s just a little homework to do and I’m apparently into that as well. There’s a tertiary venue change, but Høstsabbat will be incredible either way for those who are there to see it — I’d have said the same before a lineup announcement; they’ve more than earned that trust to deliver — and if that’s you, consider yourself lucky.
Ticket link and such hoisted from socials:
Høstsabbat once again returns to the Church of Riffs the 23rd and 24th of October!
The Oslo boutique festival which mixes the best of every crushing genre.
This year we’ve changed our smallest venue to Kafé Hærverk, located 2 minutes from the church. The Church of Riffs and the Crypt is of course back this year.
Kicking of with the first band announcement, with this killer mix:
DOMKRAFT DEATHCHANT CULT OF OCCULT OLD HORN TOOTH EARTHBONG HENCHLOCK VOIDSPIRE THE APE GLOOMBOUND
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 5th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
My only question here is if Greenleaf‘s new album is coming out in September. In my mind, I had it as a 2027 possibility, but the Swedish stalwarts are traveling to the US for Ripplefest Texas and …In the Key of Doom (they’ll be in Las Vegas next January for Planet Desert Rock Weekend as well), are already touring this Spring, and will likely be out again in Fall around this and other appearances TBA. I feel like that’s an awful lot of groundwork for not actually being when the record arrives. I mean, we’ll see, and sometimes a band tours before the album is out — it’s by no means unheard of, especially for a touring band — but it’s hard not to get my hopes up the more I see their name banied about for 2026 doings.
They’re joined in this second lineup announcement by 1000mods, Krallice, Khemmis, Ahab, Daily Thompson, Deathchant and Eyes, so indeed, Desertfest Belgium 2026 is bringing a notion of stylistic variety as close to the outset as it possibly could, last week’s lone reveal being Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats. No doubt the expansion will continue across geographies actual and aesthetic, and as Desertfest takes place for the first time in Liège, it’s encouraging to see a continuity of banger lineups.
The following comes from social media. I go there so you don’t have to. Ha.
Also you should watch the video at the bottom of this post because it rules:
Hi Desertheads
Thrilled to be back with some more names for Desertfest Belgium 2026.
We’re talking about the speed of 1000mods, the doom of Khemmis, the tides of AHAB, the stoners in Greenleaf, the blackness of Krallice, the hooks of Daily Thompson, the vision of EYES, and the rattle of Deathchant !
And let’s not forget last week’s announcement: Uncle Acid and the deadbeats!
Sometimes you wish you could skip summer and dive right into Desertfest’s autumn bliss!
Grab your weekend tickets for the best show in town right here on our website.
Posted in Whathaveyou on April 14th, 2026 by JJ Koczan
The lineup for SonicBlast Fest 2026 was already killer. The story here is of it becoming more so. Voivod will have that effect on a bill, never mind 1000mods or Elephant Tree or Deathchant or Madmess, Mephistofeles, Teen Mortgage or Trash Talk. There was a lot to like before. Now there’s more to like.
I could go on and on, but that’s pretty much the story of it, and among the various assemblages around Europe this summer — June brings Freak Valley, July brings Stoned From the Underground, and there are multitudes more — SonicBlast continues to distinguish itself in quality, quantity and in the variety around the central capital-‘h’ Heaviness of its purposes. You see N8noface, Necrot, Snapped Ankles, Trash Talk and so on and know what I’m talking about.
Of all the adds this time around, Madmess stand out because they’re Portuguese natives and no doubt that’ll add an extra layer of fun, though seeing Conan or Elephant Tree or Kylesa lay waste would for sure be a treat as well. I’ve made no secret through the years of posting about fests as daydream-fodder. I’ve been to SonicBlast, and it very much remains a daydream.
The following came through social media:
The next swell arrives:
Welcome the fast, wild and unpredictable TEEN MORTGAGE and TRASH TALK, the greek stoner rockers 1000MODS, the metal legends VOIVOD, get lost in the dark occult doom of MEPHISTOFELES, embrace the psych haze with ELEPHANT TREE and MADMESS and welcome back the inflammable heavy rollers DEATHCHANT 🔥🔥
Prepare yourself for pure wildness. Beach. Riffs. Repeat
We’re not done yet. More to announced soon 🔥
SonicBlast Fest 6-8th August 2026 Warm-up party at the 5th Free camping Praia da Duna dos Caldeirões Âncora, Portugal
Tickets are on sale at BOL and Masqueticket (links in bio)
Posted in Whathaveyou on December 9th, 2025 by JJ Koczan
You’ll pardon me if I spare myself looking back to see I’ve probably said the same thing every year for the last decade or so, but Keep it Low is always a very particular kind of daydream. First of all, it’s the kind that usually includes Colour Haze, and that’s an autowin as the Munich-based heavy psych progenitors have a tendency to do the hometown party. But second, among all the busy times happening around Europe each and every October, Keep it Low has always stood out to me in having vibe as part of the mission from the go. Like it’s not just about you and the bands in the room, but how that space is being shared.
I’ve never been, which is kind of a bummer, and I’m not expecting to go anytime soon, but it’s a pleasure to see who’s going to be there and wonder at the implications for who might be on the road next Fall between the likes of 1000mods and Spirit Mother, etc. I’m pretty sure this is the first October-weekend fest announcement I’ve seen — you have to admit, it’s early — but the low-key-killer first announcement below is part and parcel to why I’ve lost so many minutes over the years wondering what it would be like to actually be at this thing.
From social media:
KEEP IT LOW #12 – ⚡️FIRST ANNOUNCEMENT IS HERE⚡️
Keep It Low Festival returns to Munich in 2026 — heavier, louder and fuzzier than ever.
📍 Backstage München 🗓️ 09 – 10 October 2026
We’re kicking things off with a massive first wave of bands:
1000MODS THE DEVIL AND THE ALMIGHTY BLUES DEATHCHANT SPIRIT MOTHER FOMIES SUCK SKYJOGGERS KOMBYNAT ROBOTRON LEBER & MANY MORE TO COME!
Two full days of heavy rock, doom, sludge & psych. Two stages, an outdoor beergarden, and all the vibes you need to get lost in the low end.
Posted in Reviews on September 14th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
Before Show
Doors aren’t for a while yet, and I’m sitting out the back of the Knockdown Center as far out of the way as I can put myself and still be here. It’s good to be here. I crashed hard after the pre-show last night, and it wasn’t painful when the alarm went off at 8AM, unless of course you count the various old-rocker ailments that hit me alongside consciousness. There’s a reason I bring ibuprofen to these things.
I’m staying with Tim Bugbee — a photographer and one of those people who proves you can be both insanely talented and kind — in an AirBNB down the way, and it was about five minutes by car from a to b. Coming into town, I did not travel light. Big suitcase, laptop bag, camera bag; I felt as though all my belongings were compressed to a maximum extent coming back from Budapest last month. This is hardly the same kind of trip, but I wanted to spread out a little. I brought a pack of seltzer, some leftover chicken. I can be comfortable while doing a thing. It’s allowed. I stopped short of bringing a coffee pot, but should have. I’m not usually much for Keurigs, but it was functional. My grinds can come home with me.
This was basically the mellow morning before two days of go. Fine. I sat in my car for an hour and a half from 11:30AM-1:00PM so it didn’t get ticketed or towed because alternate side parking — it didn’t — and hung around in air conditioning because it’s hot in the sun. The whole weekend is supposed to be gorgeous weather, warm and sunny, but the light is Fall. Can’t climate change the Earth’s orbit, I guess. Angles of the light and all that.
Seemingly random, but sitting off to the side in the main venue space, I just saw Amy Tung Barrysmith from Year of the Cobra checking bass and vocals with Amenra. It was a surprise; wouldn’t have been if I kept up with the band’s social media. No drama. Their bassist couldn’t make the trip, so she’s filling in. They announced it a few days ago. I wonder what the connection is there, but I’ll take it either way. I’ve never been huge on Amenra on a personal-listening level, but I’ve yet to hear Amy Tung Barrysmith play on a thing and not like it more for her involvement. Should be an interesting set. Cool. It will be the eighth one of the total 10 sets played today. I hope to see at least part of everybody. Will keep you posted how it goes.
To that end:
Guhts
My first time seeing Guhts, which is a thing worth remembering. Their first album, Regeneration (review here), is my one to beat for best debut of 2024, if that matters. More to the point, they were fucking great. Obviously I dig the record too, but at full volume and assault, it was just the right combination of expansive and oppressive. They had the laptop going the whole time with keyboard parts and various electronic atmospherics, and with the four of them up there, it was pretty clear ever were giving 100 percent of everything to the performance. The passion came through raw, and actually, having the backdrop and transitional drones happening apart from the band, emphasizing the ferocity of the delivery when they let loose. As they did. Righteously. If that had been the end of the night, the day would be a win.
Blackwater Holylight
It had been a couple years and, admittedly, there was the contextual weirdness of it being Psycho Las Vegas — that’s not a dig; their whole thing was absurdity — last time I saw Blackwater Holylight, but the sinister sound of 2021’s Silence/Motion (review here) came to life as part of an ambient pastiche. It was more immersive than a lot of heavy bands are willing to be, and I guess you could call that ‘gaze of some variety or other, but that almost implied a kind of laziness and Blackwater Holylight were as much fuzzy progressive grunge metal as they were languid nod, with keyboards adding to the texture of the melodies, some toward psychedelic but clearly mindful of place and time. And maybe they riff out for a while too. How is that anything but awesome?
Abrams
Among the bands I haven’t seen before, I was most curious and what Abrams would bring. The Denver heavy rockers are ultra-reliable somgwriters, and they’ve always had a clarity of purpose in their arrangements and structures that is underrated by exponents, but in the Texas room it was more about hitting hard and representing the scope of their craft. Some emo in there, or at least the punk of the aughts. In any case, they were dynamic and leaned into the impact of their heavier stretches. At the same time, they weren’t void of mood at all, and guitarist/vocalist Zach Amster is the charismatic frontman he has always seemed to be. Dude can sing. I stood in the back for most of the set, and I could feel my earplugs shaking in my ears. People had their fists up. I’m not shitting you. And seeing them live, maybe part of why they’re undervalued is they’re a bit between styles. They’re a heavy rock band, but that’s not it. They’re metal, prog, punk and a few besides. Practiced but not at all dry in their delivery, I have to wonder if Abrams ever plays a show without making a new fan.
Primitive Man
Brutal turn of vibe. You know on paper what you’re getting with also-Danver’s Primitive Man — punishment; sounds no less likely to consume you having just bludgeoned you into oblivion — but the reality of the thing is even more destructive. Caustic doom as a genre? Crushing doom? Those sound like words that could be things. Doesn’t matter. Also from Denver, the trio were a vision of aural misanthropy, extremist in purpose and volume. There have only been like three bands today, so it doesn’t mean a ton to call them the heaviest as even their quiet parts had a rumble beneath that you could feel in your chest, but they were the heaviest of the fest so far and it would take a lot of noise to beat. Frequencies as weapons. Malevolence and probably a truckload of dry ice. I wouldn’t call myself well adjusted by any measure — if I was, I’d have stopped doing this years ago — but even on a level of catharsis, Primitive Man are a lot to take. Which, wait for it, is the point of the thing. If dystopia’s coming, they’re ready. And brutally sad. I didn’t know any of the songs. Mostly they were terrifying. And it was astonishing that it could still be daylight while they played. If Khanate are hacking you to pieces, Primitive Man are pulling concrete blocks on your chest until you can’t breathe anymore.
Spirit Mother
About as fresh in my mind as they possibly could be since the album they put out today was streamed here yesterday. They played a good deal of Trails, and brought a heap of noise to the prior single “Locust,” and were thick in vibe while still keeping the songs moving. A fill-in violinist/vocalist held down that role without question, and Armand Lance pushed his vocals into screams and was still able to carry the melody alongside said violinist when the guitar and bass dropped out and it was vocals and ride cymbal only for a few measures in “Wolves.” Some aspects of Young Hunter, All Them Witches, but Spirit Mother are very much their own thing on the balance, and their songs are getting darker, more expansive, and better. My second time seeing them, and I’m extra glad to have seen them play the Trails material. I’ll look forward to the next one.
Belzebong
Riff-forward instrumental stoner sludge metallers Belzebong came all the way from Poland to elicit crusty vibes in fog that I couldn’t tell if it was theirs or leftover from Primitive Man. Surely they’re used to haze, one way or the other. Big nod, ‘Bong Fire Death’ — because Bathory, god damnit! — in the backs of the bass and guitars, amd an absolute lock on tone, there was precious little to not like. You would not call them subtle and neither are they trying to be. Doom. Fucking. Riffs. Black. Fucking. Sabbath. You get the idea. Like their countrymen worshipers in Dopelord, they wear their love of weed on their collective sleeve, and I get it. And “it” in this circumstance means stoned. But the reason it works is because the music and their performance of it is as much a celebration as anything else, and they’re not trying to convince anyone they invented Sleep riffs. They’re the kind of band that, if you’re in this thing, make complete sense, and would confuse the shit out of normal people. It’s a very specific idea of fun. Always a pleasure to see them.
Deathchant
I crossed paths with Deathchant in June at Freak Valley (review here), so not quite topping Spirit Mother for being in my head, but not terribly far off either. They were going to be a ripper on stage and they were. Thin Lizzy and Motörhead and Sabbath and DRI or whoever; they own records. But volume and energy and shove were the order of things, however much the two guitars might veer into NWOBHM-type harmony on the way. I was late getting in to take pictures, but that’s okay. I don’t really like taking pictures most of the time, and I do like talking to friends, so if I’m not in front of the stage for everything, fine. I was on the side. Still enough perspective to know Deathchant were the start of the party for a lot of the heads in the room, which was later-in-evening crowded, and fair enough. The West Coast skate thing doesn’t always translate in New York, but some things hit just right. I’d never seen them before last August at SonicBlast (review here) — to which they returned this year — now it’s three times in 13 months. Maybe I’m a fan.
Amenra
Sure enough, Amy Tung Barrysmith on bass. They’re not a casual band, Amenra. They’re not the kind of thing one might put on in the background of an otherwise quiet afternoon. And it’s all so very important-feeling, very solemn, whether a given part is loud and screamy or subdued and melodic. It’s a genre trope — partly in Amenra’s wake, I think — for pprt-metal to take itself seriously. So they do the thing where Colin H. Van Eeckhout bangs the sticks together while kneeling at the start, and there’s the strobe matching the heft of tone and emotional immediacy with its own kind of sensory overload. They have a lurch and an undulating waves of distortion that’s their own, and it’s not a hot take they’re incredible at what they do, but I’ve never managed to get fully on board. My loss. It was a blast to watch Amy from Year of the Cobra playing with them, though, and just because they may not be a band I put on all the time doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate what they do and the influence they’ve had. It just means I’m probably going to be early for Domkraft.
Domkraft
And so I was. A band worth being early for. I spent most of the set right in the front, obnoxiously so, I’m sure, and kind of let go and nodded out for a bit. I didn’t fall asleep while Domkraft were playing or anything close to it. But it’s not a conscious thing when that riff hits you just right anyhow. I have to think the moshers know what I’m talking about. Starting out on a nine-day US run, the Swedish three-piece indeed were a culminating force from the Texas Stage, riffs bouncing off concrete walls and back again, creating that much more presence in the sound. There was a technical issue with the guitar, but it wasn’t actually that long in fixing, and they were right to restart “Whispers.” They’re are a lesson in the difference a great drummer can make, but they’re also a lesson in the difference a great everything can make. The lesson I learned was that I don’t appreciate their guitar solos enough, and the way I learned it was by being fortunate enough to be on the planet at the same time as the band.
High on Fire
The band who taught the world to shred riffs. Last met at the beginning of July in Croatia for Bear Stone (review here), though certainly they’ve been elsewhere since then, and they continue to hold their own standard. There was some not-fun-kind feedback intermittent early on, but it was a High on Fire set, like they wouldn’t deliver? They’re returning headliners at Desertfest New York, having played in 2022 (review here), and I don’t have a ton to say about them that didn’t apply two months ago, but to sum up they’re one of the best heavy-anything bands of their generation. I continue to dig the way they’re able to vary tempo in the live show while keeping the balance toward intensity on an LP. Of course they’re headlining. Hopefully it won’t be the last time they do. This forever will be the time that somebody was blowing bubbles during “Rumors of War,” however.
Unless they want to make it tradition or something. Which would be okay too, for sure. Hashtag Bubbles of War.
—
On that happy note, good night. I’ve been writing all day at the fest, and I’m ready to call it an evening. Tomorrow brings Dozer, Spaceslug and sundry other delights. There are more pics after the jump, and as always, thank you for reading.
Rain’s back on early in the day. I forewent Doom Yoga and hotel breakfast in favor of sleeping an extra hour. Time will tell on that choice. My head is swimming in last-day logistics; how I’m getting back to the hotel tonight, how and when I’m getting to Frankfurt Airport tomorrow, on and on. So yes, wet and scatterbrained. One or the other would be enough on its own. Poncho may yet make an appearance.
A few people have asked how my mother is doing. First, thank you for reading. I feel like I’ve transposed the haphazardly way this trip ended up being undertaken onto a kind of overarching mania of the experience, but one way or the other, it’s still restorative. She’s recovering from having her knee replaced on Wednesday, is walking, had started physical therapy. These things are months in the healing, but she’s strong and inspiring.
Though it shows little sign of it at the moment, the rain is supposed to stop this afternoon. We’ll see. I was sitting before the start of the show in the smoking tent; the wafting of joint smoke inexplicably cut with tobacco as is the method. Not my thing. I barely had the batteries in the camera when Volker took the stage and it was time to roll, so take that, last-day blues. Good thing my new Freak Valley hoodie is warm.
Sorry in advance for the typos.
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Splinter
Thank you to Splinter for being the day’s reminder that everything’s okay when the music starts. The Netherlands based classic-heavy four-piece fronted by Douwe Truijens had the Hammond, the boogie, enough sleaze in some of their lyrics to feel like a #metoo waiting to happen (looking at you, “Soviet Schoolgirl,” et al), but there’s no denying the life in their performance. Rain pouring down on the early crowd, Truijens was nonetheless on fire strutting and dancing around the stage with moves drawn from an arena-ready playbook, plus shorty-shorts for the last song because when you’re doing a thing, you go for it. They were tight in addition to putting on a show, and “Every Circus Needs a Clown” from last year’s Role Models (review here) was a highlight in presentation and from-speaker force to go with the conceptual foundation of what they do. That is to say, they’re a band with a plan. And that’s not a negative at all. The songs are catchy and uptempo, fun if you can get on board with euphemism, and it’s over-the-top in just the way it’s supposed to be. Echoing the energetic start of yesterday, pushing it further, Splinter made a field on a cold, rainy afternoon feel like a sweaty nightclub, and for that, one can only be grateful.
Gravy Jones
Uh oh, I think I might dig this band. Another full-size Hammond on stage, cult-ish, classic-ish riffy vibe. I recall digging the Norwegian four-piece’s 2018 debut, Funeral Pyre (review here), for the quirk it brought to genre tropes, but the apparently-don’t-do-this-all-the-time outfit were more cohesive on stage, solid in groove, hinting or maybe more with that organ toward retroist dark-boogie, and on point in the interplay of the keys and guitar. The bluesy but not caricature vocals specifically reminded me of Buffalo, but if Gravy Jones only want you for your body, they’re almost certainly nefarious in that intent. At least some of what they played was taken from an impending follow-up to Funeral Pyre, as was announced from the stage, and wherever/whenever, I take that as good news in terms of such a thing existing at all. Because I just might end up a fan of this band. You know how that happens? Hear a thing. “Oh that’s cool.” Six years pass. You see them. “Oh shit that’s cool.” It was kind of like that watching them close out with “Mountains of Madness.” If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got anything going at the merch.
Deathchant
My prevailing impression of L.A.’s Deathchant holds firm from seeing them last August at SonicBlast in Portugal (review here), and to save you the time following that link, I’ll just say it’s thar they kick ass. Two guitars that can lean into Thin Lizzy harmonies or thrash out at will, doomly in the title-track of Thrones, which they released last Fall, but gnarly and ripping at any speed, it’s like they play both the Heavy and the Metal sides of heavy metal, but they’re not doing some bullshit disaffected-white-dude aggro thing either. They get on stage, hit it, and groove with tonal presence regardless of a given part’s intensity, drawing from metal and rock on the way, charged and precise, but not so clear in sound as to lose their edge. Perhaps they’re subject to the perils of the band in-between, when it comes to style: too metal for some rockers, too rock for some metallers, but shit, I like bands who don’t fit (also bands who do; in no way does it have to be one or the other, remember), and they played a yet-untitled shouty new song and decided on the spot to call it “Freak Valley.” It ruled and I hope they keep the name. They should probably also have six or seven live records out by now, by rights. I’ll hope to see them again at Desertfest New York later this year.
Mouth
It didn’t take Mouth long to reroute the momentum from Deathchant’s raw Motõrheaded thrust to suit their proggier psychedelic purposes, and the sun came out for them, which can only be called appropriate. I did some liner notes recently for their Vortex Redux semi-reissue LP, and well, I’ll tell you truly, they’re not a band I ever really expected to see live. I mean, it’s a universe of infinite possibility, right? So a thing always could happen, but that doesn’t mean it will. And they were so much fun. Into the music, not trying to convince you that being on stage and playing their songs isn’t the most fun thing in the world. A positive vibe, energy front to back. There was one point where guitarist/vocalist Christian Koller went on his back on the stage while playing a solo and all I could think about was how much of John Dwyer’s dried-up spit from last night must be on there, but beyond that, not a worry in the world while watching them, and their affinities for ’60s psych, ’70s prog and multiple eras of heavy rock came through with poise and passion alike. The keyboard and snare jabs in “Into the Lines” and the slew of builds throughout were exciting and well crafted, and they put everything they had into the show. They weren’t a surprise for me, but it’s kind of a relief sometimes when you see a band you’ve followed for a while and they validate the reasons you liked them in the first place. Mouth did that and improved the weather. That’s a high point in any day.
Black River Delta
Swedish mellow heavy blues rock. Oldschool in ideology, modern in tone. It always takes me a second to stop listening for the stoner to show up when Freak Valley breaks out the bluesier stuff, but Black River Delta did well in the dinnertime slot. And immediately upon thinking of it as that, I realized I was starving. No goulash, but a vegan curry — no I’m not vegan, but probably should be, not the least because it would allow me to subsist exclusively on a variety of homeground nut butters — was the thing. Green beans, carrots, broccoli, onions and peppers of course, but most crucially there were four — yes, I counted, it was four — bites of cauliflower. Cauliflower! For upwards of six minutes while Black River Delta nestled into one comfortable flow after another, I found paradise. By the time another 15 minutes had passed, they’d be finished with their sharply composed and executed fare, delivered smoothly and suited to the style bringing together contemporary and classic as so many here have, but in their own way. And soon after that, the rain would start again, but since it was between bands and Black River Delta were so classy anyhow, I won’t hold it against them. It poured for a minute there, though.
Godsleep
And stopped doing so about 35 seconds after I ran away from the photo pit to get away from the deluge coming down from the roof overhang in front of the stage while Greece’s Godsleep were getting going. I was curious what series of circumstances brought a Rutgers football t-shirt into vocalist Amie Makris’ life — I got a MFA from Rutgers Newark, and my wife did her Ph.D. in New Brunswick; you don’t see a lot of Newjerseynalia in other countries [edit: I asked her later at the merch area and she said she got it from her sister] — but the shirt didn’t last much longer than the rain, and Godsleep’s material had so much push and sweep that the thought was in and out of my head like some kind of asshole who just flies in for the festival and then is gone. They slowed down a bit for the delightfully ’90s-reminiscent “Saturday,” which was a highlight of last Spring’s all-over-the-place-and-only-more-rad-for-it Lies to Survive (review here), but as that record will demonstrate, there’s no lack of variety in what they do regardless of tempo. Not being exclusively sad, slow and miserable, there are aspects of Godsleep’s aesthetic I can relate to more than others, but almost any in-genre boundary pushing is good news as far as I’m concerned, “Permanent Vacation” sort of bridges worlds between explosion-happens-now and more methodical whathaveyou. I found that their harsher moments were complement rather than contrast to the odd bit of desert riffing and sundry other lessons in kicking ass on display. Split LP with Ruff Majik post-haste, please. Both with some screaming, while I’m making requests. Dizzying but undizzied, intermittently furious, deceptively intricate, and rad. They finished by bringing it all back around to the riffs and were better than the veggie curry. Yup. That’s the review.
Speck
Mellow molten instrumentalism from Vienna trio Speck, whose expanses soothed with considerably more cosmic warmth than is offered by, say, actual space. It was my first time seeing the band, whose second album, Eine Gute Reise, came out last Fall, and it took them a while to get going, sure enough, but more, it took me a couple minutes to warm up to it, but all of a sudden I looked up and they were killing it. They’d continue to do so even as a torrential, bucket-style downpour took hold, adding another layer of soak to the already saturated everything and causing a scramble for shelter for some and a very pointed not-scramble from others, which I can respect. Rockpalast has a small tent set up outside the production truck backstage with a tv showing the livestream feed, right next to Lulu’s Garden, and I took advantage of that to wait out the deluge. It didn’t last — it couldn’t or it’d be Freak Lake Festival — but it was harder even than the rain before, and if you were caught in it, you know that’s saying something. I eventually made my way further back to sit someplace drier, but listened as Speck brought their set-long build to its payoff, and I couldn’t help but wonder if the livestream mics picked up the sound of the rain pounding down. If so, all the more reason they should make it into a live record. People mud-moshing like a hippie version of whatever Woodstock that was.
Amyl and the Sniffers
Thrills and such from brash, hard-hitting Aussie punk rockers Amyl and the Sniffers. When they were announced as a headliner, it kind of had me scratching my head, but obviously seeing them you get it in a different way. Their frontwoman, Amyl, came out in an overcoat and stripped it off to reveal her undies while singing a line I interpreted as “I like power,” so yes, if that’s what it was, then clearly. Not gonna take away from the statement or the volume that coincided, but on my coolest day I was never cool enough to be a punker, and today’s certainly not my coolest day. Still, can’t really argue with the ass kicking meted out, and after a certain point, loud groove is loud groove. They shouted out countrymen outfit C.O.F.F.I.N., who played the other day, which was nice, en route to the next onslaught. Rain stopped and started, as it has for most of the day.
I just kind of hung around and let both the noise and the water falling from the sky — because this planet is incredible and to our present knowledge completely unique in the universe in being able to support life and water is why and we treat it like shit; by the way I’m getting on a plane tomorrow morning, so I’m not indemnifying myself, rest assured; if you’re alive to read this you’re complicit there — wash over me while making the rounds saying a few quick goodbyes/hope-to-see-you-next-years. The harsh reality of needing to head to the airport early tomorrow has set in, so better to take care of that earlier than to feel bad about it later. There are a lot of very nice people here, and they are kind to me, and talk to me. I don’t have the kind of brain that always translates being happy to see someone into a smile on my face, but even if you just said hi this weekend, please know it was appreciated. I guess I’m saying goodnight there, too. Guess I got sidetracked talking about Amyl and the Sniffers. Okay.
Kadavar
The one and only. Because as many imitators as they’ve spawned, Kadavar on a level of their own. I knew to expect good things from their still-relatively-recent four-piece incarnation from seeing them play last summer at the aforementioned SonicBlast (review here), and god damn, they’re about as headliner as you get when they take the stage at something like this. They’ve been recording — for what, I don’t know, but I’ve got my hopes — rather than the old tour-tour-tour thing, while it was killer to hear Lupus Lindemann up on stage speak to the crowd in his (and most of their, I assume) native language. He, Tiger, Dragon and Jascha Kreft — last I checked, the ‘new guy’ hadn’t chosen a spirit animal — took the stage to defy the supposition that rock and roll has no more heroes, and while they’re a professional band putting on a show for an audience, on doing so, they throw down like no one else in this thing. “Doomsday Machine” into “Come Back Life” at the start? Come on. I hung around for a few songs, which was a choice facilitated by either the rain mostly stopping or my new Freak Valley hoodie just being soaked enough that I didn’t notice, then made my way out with more than a tinge of sadness at it being over, but secure in the knowledge I’ll see Kadavar again this summer, barring disaster, and as I arrived at the hotel after hailing a cab like the New York metro, throw-your-arm-out-just-at-the-right-time-to-catch-the-driver, it occurred to me to put on the Rockpalast stream. So I got to watch “I Fly Among the Stars” and so on that way. Scrolling back told me I missed “Black Sun” and the clap-along to “Die Baby Die” while in transit, which is a little sad, but I’m grateful for what I got.
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The same applies to the festival as a whole. I’m grateful for everything I saw and heard — whether it was in accord with my everyday listening habits or not — over the last three days, grateful to Jens for having me over, for Falk watching out for me in the photo pit, to Alex, Marcus, Jamie, and Basti for the rides, and to you for reading any of it if you did. As she often is concerning a wide variety of subjects, The Patient Mrs. was right to give me the push out the door I needed. Such as I’m a duck, I’m a lucky one.
If I have time, I’ll do kind of an epilogue tomorrow, if not, probably Friday, which is probably what I’d prefer to allow for a little actual-processing/distance. We’ll see. Either way, thank you again. More pics after the jump.
