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.

Read more »

At the Fest Grounds

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.

—

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.

—

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.

Read more »

The message here is clear: Desertfest is all-in on New York. Begun in 2019 and resurfacing in 2022 at a new venue, The Knockdown Center, somewhere in the nebulous border region between Brooklyn and Queens, and a corresponding pre-show at the Saint Vitus Bar, which one hopes will reopen well in advance of this September, Desertfest New York 2024 is vivid in taking it to the next level.

It’s nothing less than a generational event to bring Dozer from Sweden to NYC (they toured the US circa 2000, I’m pretty sure), and for that alone, Desertfest earns your weekend ticket price today. Never mind that at the same time they’re celebrating legends like Dozer and Acid King, they’re also extending their reach to up and coming bands. Green Lung will play — gotta be the main stage, right? isn’t their sound too big for anything else? maybe outside at night? — coming over from the UK to do so, and West Coast outfits Kadabra, Abrams, Deathchant (who at this point I count as a secret being a little too well kept) and Hippie Death Cult complement well Acid King near the top of the bill, where you’ll also find instrumentalists Russian Circles, presumably a headliner, and fair enough. Oh yeah, and Truckfighters just in case anyone gets tired and needs a bit of a cardio pick-me-up.

Guhts from New York, Domkraft from Sweden, Belzebong from Poland and an awaited appearance from Boston’s Gozu round out this initial announcement, with more to come. It’s on my calendar. You might think about putting it on yours as well:

Desertfest NYC announces Russian Circles, Acid King, Green Lung, Truckfighters, Dozer & more for its 2024 lineup.

For their return to the Knockdown Center this September, Desertfest NYC has unveiled its first artists set to take the stage for their fourth edition, announcing post-metal giants RUSSIAN CIRCLES as their first headliner. Joining them will be California stoner metal legends ACID KING and London occult metal sensations GREEN LUNG, making their US debut. After they were unable to perform at DF 2022, the festival is thrilled to finally be hosting them stateside.

Swedish rockers and long-time Desertfest friends TRUCKFIGHTERS will return for their first New York performance in four years, along with fellow countrymen and stoner devotees DOZER.

Joining the party will be Poland’s instrumental ‘dudes’ BELZEBONG, Swedish psychedelic hypnotizers DOMKRAFT, and a healthy dose of rock n roll arrives courtesy of Los Angeles quartet, DEATHCHANT and Boston mainstays GOZU.

Elsewhere we’ll be treated to some psychedelic swagger from Pacific Northwesterners KADABRA and HIPPE DEATH CULT, and some heavy gazin’ with Denver’s ABRAMS and NY locals GUHTS.

Desertfest New York 2024 will take place September 12th – 14th. 3-Day Festival Passes (incl. pre-party access) and 2-Day Festival passes are available now via https://www.desertfestnewyork.com & https://link.dice.fm/desertfest2024

https://facebook.com/Desertfestnyc/
https://www.instagram.com/desertfest_nyc/
http://www.desertfestnewyork.com

Dozer, “Big Sky Theory” live in Adelaide, Australia, Nov. 2023

I’ve been trying to post this for like a week. This happens to me now. I’ll be sitting on the couch at like 7PM or some such — well past what I consider ‘Obelisk time’ in my feeble brainclock — and see some relevant item on my phone. I haven’t covered Krach am Bach much in years past, so I probably said something like, “Oh shit right on, I can post about something new,” and started to put the thing together. I don’t remember if I squared the poster image or the fest did — probably them. But then I get in the actual back end of the site and there are like 50 other things and then I’m already late and blah blah fucking blah here I am with another festival lineup post. I’m sure by now the lineup has been completed and the festival — which is set for Aug. 2-3 — has already taken place. Because time would bend over backwards just to screw me up, and I say that as the voice of experience.

But the lineup. Seems likely The Devil and the Almighty Blues will be out on tour, ditto A Place to Bury Strangers, Wine Lips, Deathchant, El Perro. You’ll notice Elder-offshoot Delving among the confirmations, which might mean another studio offering from that project is on the way, and I’ll go to bat for each of Karkara, Humulus, Travo and Black Helium being worth your time based solely on my experience with their recorded output. There’s more to come here, but I’m not sure how much more you really need.

Check it:

+++ First announcements || Tickets available +++

In case you’re wondering about some news for the 29. Krach am Bach Festival, we’ve got the finest selection for a ride through heavy, fuzz-drowned and hypnotic space trips.

Orange Goblin |UK
A Place To Bury Strangers |US
The Devil And The Almighty Blues |Norway
Wine Lips |Canada
Tuber |Greece
Deathchant |US
El Perro |US
Madmess |Portugal
delving |US
Verstärker |US
KARKARA |France
Humulus |Italy
TRAVO |Portugal
Black Helium |UK
ᴉGeRaldᴉ |France

More bands to be announced soon!
+++
Get your tickets here: https://shop.paylogic.com/604ee181fd7d4834aa24ee0a0c0c10a6

https://www.facebook.com/krachambach
https://www.instagram.com/krachambachfestival
https://linktr.ee/krachambachfestival
https://krachambach.de/

Orange Goblin, Live at Freak Valley 2023

Man, you ever feel like you’re crawling to the finish line? I’m doing news catchup the next couple days, and this announcement from SonicBlast Fest came out like last weekend or some such with a first round of lineup adds for the Aug. 2024 edition of the Portuguese heavy festival — it’s the 12th one — and as I sit here with my e’er expanding ass sinking e’er deeper into the couch I feel about as far removed as I could from, let’s say, the glorious nighttime walk across the beach in Âncora that I was lucky enough to be born to eventually undertake after a night at SonicBlast earlier this year.

Not only was it my first time in Portugal and Iberia, period, but I met people I never thought I’d get to meet, saw old friends and made new ones, and for a few days pretty much lived the festival ideal. You get there, see sets, go back, write, drink all the coffee, take pictures, write more, write more, eventually collapse from fatigue, then go home with a rejuvenated spirit. You know, fest life.

Submitted for your daydreams is the initial billing for SonicBlast Fest 2024, with the heavy, stoner, psych and punk and hardcore sides of the festival represented and a solid punch of names with Graveyard, Brant Bjork Trio, 1000mods and Truckfighters. Think this means Deathchant and Sacri Monti will tour Europe together? I do. Think it means Sacri Monti‘s album will be out by then? I hope so. Deathchant, who also played this year, are awesome, by the way.

Here’s news. Tickets are on sale already:

SONICBLAST FEST ’24 – Aug. 8-10

It’s getting hard to breathe… We’re so proud to announce the first bands for SonicBlast Fest’s 12th edition!! Viagra Boys, Graveyard, Wine Lips, Brant Bjork Trio, Sunami, Colour Haze, Home Front, Truckfighters, Poison Ruin, 1000mods, Sacri Monti, Maruja, Deathchant and Máquina will join us at the craziest heavy psychedelic weekend by the ocean ⚡🌊☀️

*** more to be announced soon ***

🔥 Full festival tickets are already on sale at BOL (Fnac, Worten, Ctt…), at https://garboyl.bol.pt/ and at https://www.masqueticket.com/entradas/sonicblast-fest-2024

Artwork by Branca Studio

https://www.facebook.com/sonicblastmoledo/
https://www.instagram.com/sonicblast_fest
https://sonicblastfestival.com/

Colour Haze, Sacred (2022)

I wrote part of the second announcement from Freak Valley Festival 2024 just yesterday, as it was a surprise that the batch of bands being added were all ready to go at some late notice. Not to say I mind, just that this is all pretty fresh in my head. Apparently Amyl and the Sniffers are big enough to come from Australia and headline in Germany, which is news to me, but that’s cool and something different is welcome alongside such familiar entities as Monolord and Kadavar and 1000mods.

There’s a lot here I’m looking forward to seeing, even just having caught Kadavar in August. With Douwe from Splinter having been in Death Alley, it’ll be great to see him again, and to witness bands like Slomosa, Godsleep, Daevar and Fuzzy Grass is to look at where European heavy rock is headed. The answer to that question, incidentally, is “everywhere.” With riffs.

The sentences with the bands are mine, and I did a little work on the second paragraph with the memories and all that. And you know the only reason I mention it is because I’m trying to keep track for myself however many years from now.

Dig:

(#127928#) Freak Valley Festival 2024 Lineup Announcement (#127928#)

Freak Valley 2024 is set for May 30 – June 1.

Get ready to rock your world at Freak Valley Festival 2024! We’re thrilled to announce an epic lineup featuring some of the hottest acts in the international underground. Join us for a weekend of nonstop music, unforgettable vibe, and memories waiting to be made.

(#129304#) Bands you can’t miss:

(#127908#) Amyl and The Sniffers: Coming all the way from Melbourne, Australia, these raucous punkers will shake things up for sure. What, you thought it was all going to be meditative heavy prog-psych?

(#128293#) Kadavar: They’re only one of the best bands of their generation. No introduction needed. Welcome back Kadavar!

(#128165#) Godsleep: These Athenian aural adventurers release ‘Lies to Survive’ earlier this year and absolutely blew us away with their scope and songwriting. Up next: see how they do it in-person! Can’t wait.

(#127775#) Deathchant: Shredding at the place where classic rock and heavy metal meet, Deathchant are a well kept secret until you see them and can’t shut up about how good they are.

(#127926#) Splinter: Hot on the heels of their second album ‘Role Models,’ Splinter foster roughed-up vintage glam heavy and from “Velvet Scam” to “Forbidden Kicks,” it’ll be a party second to none when they hit the FVF stage for the first time.

(#128266#) Here’s the star-studded lineup:

Monolord – 1000mods – Dÿse – Slomosa – Alex Henry Foster – Mouth – Speck – Demonauta – Full Earth – Fuzzy Grass – Daevar

All killers, no fillers. That’s how we do it, freaks. Get your tickets now because they’ll be gone before you know it.

Don’t miss the chance to be part of the ultimate music experience. Mark your calendars for Freak Valley Festival 2024 – it’s going to be legendary!

Stay tuned for more updates. Let’s rock!

https://www.facebook.com/freakvalley
https://www.instagram.com/freakvalleyfestival/
https://twitter.com/FreakValley
http://www.rockfreaks.de/
http://www.freakvalley.de/

Kadavar, “Die Baby Die” live at Sonic Blast Fest 2023

08.10.23 – Thu. – Festival grounds

Before show

Day one. Also night one. There’s about two hours until Desert’smoke kick things off on Stage 3, but I got here early I guess basically to start writing and scope out where shade could be found. It’s not egregiously hot — I suspect the fact that the ocean is just over the large sand dune behind me has something to do with that, and the breeze is pleasant. I got a water bottle that I’ll keep all weekend barring disaster and sat down under an umbrella by one of the row of food trucks off to the side of the grounds, adjacent to the third stage.

I’ve had four espressos in about the last three hours, and so count myself as awake. There is a little cafe next to where I’m staying that has been very kind, though I think the guy running the hotel suspects I’m hiding more than one person in the room and walking back in with two tiny paper cups, which he definitely noticed, probably didn’t help my case. Nobody else, dude. Just trying to pry my eyes open.

Slept about six hours and got up, showered, grabbed coffee, finished the review of last night correcting a bunch of typos resulting from writing on my phone and no doubt missing many others. For some reason every time I try to swipe the word ‘album’ it thinks I’m talking about someone named Alvin. As you might imagine, it comes up regularly. These are the crosses to bear on a long rock and roll weekend in coastal Europe with the sun shining and the breeze blowing. To be sure, I’ve had it far worse.

Checked in on The Patient Mrs. and The Pecan to see how they were getting on, and of course they were doing just fine in the early morning at home. Today is long — I’ll still be here 12 hours from now, again barring disaster — and a quick video chat felt good to touch ground before spending the rest of the day in an ether cloud of riffs and volume. I’m curious to see how I hold up, but right now I feel pretty okay, if I can dare to say so. I’m here, which is amazing in itself.

Here’s the day:

Desert’smoke

Groovy and spacious, Lisbon instrumental four-piece Desert’smoke eased the afternoon open with warm heavy psychedelic meandering offset by moments of heavier, riff-led roll and a bit of noisier slide guitar in the end. I wouldn’t call the sound groundbreaking, but I don’t think they’re trying to be. The material they played had character though in how smoothly it shifted from one stretch to the next, solos traded between the two guitars reaping applause along the way, and the crowd in front of the third stage was into it for more than just the shade under the tent where all sets to this point have taken place. An easy nod to get lost in, which means they’re doing it right, as 2019’s Karakum (discussed here) will attest, with some lighter touches of prog to complement the trippier aspects and the grounded riffs. If you’re the type to close your eyes at a show and figure out where the music takes you, they’d be a perfect candidate for that.

—

Etran de L’Aïr

First band on the main stage — Stage 2, as it happens, which is on the left as you walk into the festival site — and they had the crowd dancing, mixing West African and rock musics together with an emphasis in rhythmic fluidity and extra-tasteful bass working in kind with the twisting guitar and the uptempo drums. Their home country of Niger recently saw its government overthrown, which is a hell of a thing to happen while you’re on tour in Europe. But as the soon-to-be 5,000-someodd people attending SonicBlast this weekend continued to trickle in, they were greeted by an engaging presence and a reminder of the often overlooked history of African rock, and psych rock particularly. You could find room to move up front, maybe even a bit of shade if you were lucky — I have a spot near a shaded fance and even a chair to sit in while writing this, so feel like I’m risking almost too much luxury, but it’s still early in the day. And by the time they were finishing up, the place was packed. Good. I hope they get home safe.

—

Mythic Sunship

Coming from Copenhagen, instrumentalists Mythic Sunship played in the likely-coveted 4:20 slot, swapping with Death Valley Girls for some yet-unknown reason. Their 2022 LP, Light/Flux (review here), was released through Tee Pee Records, and they brought a similar purposeful-in-the-jam sensibility to the live set. Humble heavy-prog? I guess that was a thing bound to happen. After Etran de L’Aïr, they came across thicker in tone as they would, but the guitar was able to float above the sharp turns of bass and drums beneath, the two sides coming together for well-placed peaks and valleys. It was fun to watch the audience shift over to the other main stage. “Okay, everybody take 35 steps to your right!” But while they were a surprise in that timeslot, Mythic Sunship by daylight was an unabashed joy and heavy to boot — though they had me wondering if it’s weird to play in front of a giant photo of yourself projected onto a screen — with runs of less guitar woven through the songs and a sensibility able to burst into a rock riff and drive that point home, not quite shape-shifting but making transitions that not every band could while sounding sure-footed and explorational at the same time, tipping into psych here and there but with clear direction in mind. I should probably buy that CD. Maybe a couple of them. Their last song was a particular burner and you could hear cheering before they were even done.

—

Sasquatch

That finish was as much a lead-in as L.A.’s Sasquatch could ever hope for, and 10-minute changeovers between bands — which you can do when you have the entire set on the stage next door to load out and in and get everything set up — assures forward momentum. I had been saying hi to the Sasquatch guys earlier, and seeing guitarist/vocalist Keith Gibbs writing out the setlist, took my phone out and snapped a picture as a goof. Bad call. He got mad, grabbed his Sharpie and pieces of paper, and was gone before I could even apologize. I felt pretty bad about it, despite the assurances of bassist Jason “Cas” Casanova and drummer Craig Riggs that it was fine, he was pissed about other stuff, etc. So yeah, stupid for even adding to whatever frustration existed prior. I was just kidding around. That photo got deleted off my phone and I’m never looking to invade privacy. One more reason I’m best sitting in front of a laptop. Lesson learned. Again.

They had some technical issues that caused them to begin upwards of two minutes late, but once they started, they were every bit the force they’ve come to be. I don’t know how you leave a Sasquatch set not thinking of them as one of the best currently active pure heavy rock bands from America, Gibbs paying homage to guitar gods of yore and belting out new and old material with a delivery the reach of which has only grown over the 20-ish years of the band, Cas and/or Riggs backing at various points, all three locked in solid for the duration. There were not a lot of people milling around while they played. Dinner could wait, and so it did. Crowd surfing out front as they chugged Jack Daniels. A new album next year, maybe, would be a thing to look forward to. They did have new stuff in the set, a song called “This Heart is So Lonely,” and that’s always a good sign; you might recall when they were interviewed here earlier this year, they said they were recording in May. They’re the kind of band that gets people into this music in the first place. And then they (completely unnecessarily) shouted me out before “Destroyer,” said a few very nice things, which just about obliterated me, never mind floored. Thanks guys. And sorry again. We’re all heart emojis forever as far as I’m concerned. I went to the merch tent after they played and many sweaty hugs were exchanged. It’s a high bar to set but I’m gonna see if I can go the second half-plus of this day without making an ass of myself.

—

Crippled Black Phoenix

It’s been so long since the last time I saw Crippled Black Phoenix, I had to stop what I was doing and look it up. You know when it was? 2019, at Roadburn (review here). So not actually terrible unless you count the fact that the span of 2020-’21 was eight years long. Still, that’s two Crippled Black Phoenix records ago; their latest is Banefyre (review here), the bleak brilliance of which made hearing it an act of emotional labor. They’re a challenging band anyway, expansive goth metal that’s all of those things and not really any of them. For an intro to one of their songs they had the same tune the ice cream truck by my house does, and there was definitely a part of me that perked up because I knew if my kid heard it she’d be chasing it down running in the middle of the street. Nope, just Crippled Black Phoenix adding atmosphere to atmosphere, as they will. I didn’t see any sad shuffle-dancing, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen, and it continues to be incredible how much this band exist in their own world in terms of style, and how that manages to be true even though they have a different lineup every time I see them, this one with two keyboardists, two lead singers, three guitars, one bass, one drums, and to their credit, they were nowhere near too much, and the rhythm section stood up to the task of pushing all that weight. Tonal and existential. And I would say it was weird seeing them by daylight, but the truth is it didn’t matter. They bring their own clouds.

—

Spy

A not-insignificant landing to stick, going from Crippled Black Phoenix’s ultra-brood to the darkly thrashy hardcore metal of Spy, who are the most outwardly aggressive act thus far into the fest, and who plied their wares with persistent intensity. They had a circle pit going, were nastier than Scatterbrainiac last night for residing on the same genre spectrum, and actually, the more I think about it, the more sense their place on the bill makes, and the more every band today has been up to something of their own. They finished 15 minutes early, as a hardcore band might do here, but figure if you slowed their songs down to the average speed around here, they might’ve hit the mark, temporal mechanics notwithstanding. For sure they got their point across. I don’t think anyone was arguing with the chance to grab a bite to eat, a beer and so forth, but they did well with a crowd that’s at least somewhat not their own. Sometimes you want that kind of catharsis. I ain’t arguing.

—

Acid King

Ah, Acid King. A balm for my sunburnt skin. “Mind’s Eye” from this year’s stellar Beyond Vision (review here) followed by “Coming Down From Outer Space” from 2015’s Middle of Nowhere, Center of Everywhere (discussed here, review here) and “2 Wheel Nation” from III (discussed here) a decade prior. What a starting three to leave you on the doorstep of “Electric Machine” from the stoner rock omega that is 1999’s Busse Woods (featured here, discussed here) tone dense enough that you could feel the ground shake. Founding guitarist/vocalist Lori S. is joined by the ace-in-sleeve rhythm section of bassist/synthesist Bryce Shelton and drummer Jason Willer, who also played on the latest record, and it was my first time seeing this lineup but they sounded incredible. And as much as Acid King are considered a legendary band in underground heavy, I don’t think they get nearly enough credit for the lessons in grooves, riffs and the ability of a song to be outrageously heavy and still laid back, mellow. “Destination Psych” into “Beyond Vision” into “Color Trails.” That’s a fucking jam. Look. If you wanna pick favorites, Acid King are high on my list and as far as I’m concerned, stoner rock doesn’t exist without them. AND they’re growing as a band after three decades since starting out. There’s not a lot of bands I could listen to any time, regardless of mood or circumstance, but Acid King are always more than welcome in my ears. And with the kind of volume they had at SonicBlast, only more so. It was full across both stages, and they brought the sun down. Glorious.

—

Death Valley Girls

Second band of the day from Los Angeles. Planet Earth is weird. Death Valley Girls took off running at the outset and only really stopped to say thanks and how strange it was for them since their normal singer was stuck in L.A. unless I completely misinterpreted what they were saying between songs, which is possible because I’m old and have hearing damage. I’m not sure the crowd knew the difference. I wouldn’t have if they’d said anything. Nothing seemed missing from their arrangements, with vocals handled by their bassist and another singer with a floor tom — which I wholly support; more floor toms, and I’m not being sarcastic — and they weren’t any looser than their heavy garage psych meets ’90s alt rock vibe warranted. Mostly uptempo but not rushed sounding, they seemed to dare toward fun in a made it almost too perfect they were playing the same day as Crippled Black Phoenix — one of whose six-stringers had an explicit ‘no fun’ sticker on the body of his guitar — and that went over well. I don’t know how familiar the crowd was generally, but I didn’t know them and whatever their situation was lineup-wise that perhaps was the reason why they switched slots with Mythic Sunship, they acquitted themselves well. I’d check out a record, gladly.

—

OFF!

I was neither cool enough nor the right kind of uncool enough to be a punker, but even I know who the fuck Keith Morris is, and he’s my favorite of the various singers Black Flag had during their original run. The First Four Years, man. Their moniker taken from yet another brand of bug repellant, OFF! is Morris (lest we forget to mention Circle Jerks), guitarist Dimitri Coats, bassist Autry Fulbright II and drummer Justin Brown, and the crowd was packed in front of the stage 20 minutes before they went on, buzzing. I had gone to get coffee, and that turned out to be well timed ahead of their set, which made traditionalist hardcore punk sound new in a seemingly impossible way. They put out their first record in eight years (their fourth overall), Free LSD, in 2022, and they’re at the top of the bill tonight to support it, though not playing last by any stretch. They were unipolar in their manic push and gallop, and Morris was very much at the center of the circus. I don’t own an OFF! record and I’m not sure I’ve ever written about them since their inception in 2010 (I checked that and it’s true save for the announcement they were playing here), but having now seen them, I’m glad I did, which puts me in decent company I think with just about everyone here. Stripped down as it would have to be, but holy shit that’s loud.

—

Hällas

This was my second time seeing Hällas in about two months, so safe to say their futurist space progressive rock was fresh in mind. They had been warmly welcomed at Freak Valley (review here) and were perhaps more so here, with the crowd at the front of the barricade singing along, fist-pumping and so on. Riffs a-blazin’, keyboard with that gorgeous proggy krautrock sound that’s 50 years old and still ‘The Sound of Tomorrow!’ (to be read in a big booming voice), they were on, though to be honest, this is the third time I’ve caught them live and I’ve never come away disappointed. Are they likely to take over the world with their theatrical heavy space whatnot? Probably no. But in another abrupt aesthetic shift, they followed OFF!’s set with textures and a presence that was no less their own. I think I might like this band. Anything but that! Not another band! Nonetheless, they’ve been at this for at least 12 years now, so while they’re a young band in my head, they’re ab established band, and it seems like maybe it’s time for me to dig into their records for really real and see where I finally stand. 2022’s Isle of Wisdom a good place to start? Guess I’ll find out. I remembered “Star Rider,” which is on their first LP, so that’s something. I’ll figure it out. Party like it’s 1975. I swear I saw meteors steak the sky when they were done. Conjure the perseids.

—

Kadavar

It’s been a very long tone (really) since I saw Kadavar last. Three or four records, like. The Berlin-based classic heavy rockers — who in the interim have put themselves on the path to become a classic band as well — added second guitarist and backing vocalist Jascha Kreft to become a four-piece, and hearing them play older songs like “All Our Thoughts” or even “Die, Baby, Die” from 2017’s For the Dead Travel Fast (review here) — I guess it’s all pre-lineup change since it’s not like they’ve done a record since March when Kreft’s joining was announced — but you could hear the difference this six added strings were making in the fullness of their sound, Kreft on a long riser with drummer Tiger while guitarist/vocalist Lupus Lindemann and bassist Simon “Dragon” Bouteloup held it down on the stage, swing and strut to spare. What songwriters they are. Here’s a Kadavar track you haven’t heard in about six years. No worries, you’ll remember it. Their sound has expanded since their early days of vintage worship, but no matter where they go, they bring the songs with them. And with Kreft serving keyboard/synth and backing vocal duties as well, they’ll likely keep growing. That ethic, the memorable craft, the not-tired-of-it-yet performance from all of them; it makes it easy to see them as one of the best heavy rock bands of their generation, with a legacy carved in stone and a refusal to stagnate that exists alongside an ability to blast out “Doomsday Machine” near the end of the set like they just wrote it. Bands like this don’t happen all the time. I already knew I let it go too long without catching a show, so that wasn’t news, but I’m glad as hell not to have missed this one.

—

Deathchant

Amp blew in the first song. Maybe second. Early, either way, but they kept it going, got a new head and before much real-time had passed, Deathchant (the day’s third and final L.A. band) were ripping anew with their gritted-up dual-guitar/dual-vocal NWOBHM proselytizing. I won’t lie to you and say I stayed the whole time. It was getting on 2AM and I still had work to do writing and sorting photos, but rest assured they were loud enough that as I walked up toward the beach and off the fest grounds to make my way back to the hotel, I had the urge to put my earplugs back in. I probably should have, but was distracted as I walked out of the light and realized the sky I was standing beneath. To look up and see the Milky Way bifurcating a night’s stars that I don’t know, with the resonant low frequency wub of Deathchant behind me and the illusion of privacy in that very dark little stretch of beach between one boardwalk and the next, separated from everything I might’ve screwed up today and everything I didn’t. Me, neck craned to the cosmos above, riffs echoing in the distance. The only part that was weird was that it was real and I was living it. While Deathchant were kicking plenty of ass and leaving a mark in that regard, I think I’ll probably always associate them with that minute, maybe two, of my existence. Something they were part of that they’ll probably never know about. It’s quite a galaxy.

—

Back to the day’s various successes and failures. I failed at food. Had like three forks of the almond butter I brought from home (not mine; store bought; still good) before going to the fest and more when I got back to the room and that was it. On every level, the wrong choice, and it didn’t really feel like it was one. I’m doing my best.

Success? The day, really. I met more super-nice people, and apart from the misunderstanding with Gibbs from Sasquatch, I think I managed to go the entire 12-hour shift without directly alienating anybody. Maybe. And even that got worked out. I had my sunglasses on. He didn’t know it was me. Indeed, other shit going on. Sometimes you get wound tight and it doesn’t take much to set you off. I felt bad. I still do, but that’s how I roll. But it was a great day. I even saw the Ruff Majik guys again for a bit. They’re staying in the same place I am.

I also took over 1,300 pictures today, which I have to think I might not do if I was a better photographer. Ha. Anyhow, some of those will end up at the bottom here, but I’m not even going to start sorting them tonight because I’m so god damned tired. Good night, thanks for reading and, I promise before this is posted there will be more pics after the jump.

Read more »

It was covered here last year as well, but just as a refresher: GockelScream is a private festival — if you want to go, you need to write for tickets — put together at the behest of ElbSludgeBooking and held in a secret location in Dürrröhrsdorf-Dittersbach, Germany. And why would such a thing be covered? Well first, because I think it’s awesome and if the notion of attending a private fest with however few other people fortunate enough to do so doesn’t pique your imagination, then the international reach of the lineup hopefully will. Take a look at the day splits below. You’ve got bands from Germany and Austria, of course, but also Israel, the US, Sweden, Poland, France and the Netherlands. For what’s basically a birthday party, that’s some significant reach.

Details, if you want ’em, are available by emailing ElbSludgeBooking, and while no, I don’t think this is going to be the hugest event of the year, I also don’t think it’s trying to be. This is something for friends or those willing to be friends, and if that’s you, then I hope you go and make friends and have a great time watching killer bands. You got Temple Fang and Bees Made Honey in the Vein Tree (among others) playing on the same day. Ecstatic Vision and Clouds Taste Satanic meeting up (maybe touring together?), and Deathchant, Karkara, Moonstone and DUNDDW on the last day with a slot still open. Got until May to fill it and there are a ton of acts on the road then around Desertfest and the rest of the Spring festival season. Seems to me there probably won’t be a problem finding someone, it’s just a question of waiting to see who it is.

This is the kind of thing that, if I had all the money in the universe, I’d both host and attend on the regular. Maybe with a different poster, but you get the idea.

From the PR wire:

Gockelscream #4.0

May 26-29 – Dürrröhrsdorf-Dittersbach

Gockelscream #4 will go down in Dürrröhrsdorf-Dittersbach from 26. to 29.05.2023.

So here are the day splits:

Friday: Ecstatic Vision (USA), Clouds taste satanic (USA), Black Smoke (PL), Hypnotic floor (A)

Saturday: The Great Machine (ISR), Temple Fang (NL), Stew (SWE), Bees made honey in the vein tree (GER), Love your witch (ISR)

Sunday: Deathchant (USA), Karkara (FR), Moonstone (PL), DUNDDW (NL)+ slot open still

Line up:

Our goal for GockelScream is always to make it just like a big party with great music. We try to come up with a one-of-a-kind line-up with bands that are not in the normal concert circuit.. Some of the bands play for the first time in our area or even in Germany. This year we wanted to get some more heaviness into the mix too because we are Elb”SLUDGE”booking, okay?

The location:

Last year we had to move the location for the fest and quickly found the perfect match for our purposes. The place in Dürrröhrsdorf-Dittersbach lies in a small valley, next to a small river. It’s a private property and the people there are just super supportive and share our DIY-attitude. We have plenty of space there for lotsa people, camping, 2 stages and the infamous Rattenbar. We couldn’t be more happy.

How to get in:

Write a mail to gockelscream (at) elbsludge.de and you will get all the information you need.

Event page: https://facebook.com/events/1338937726922664/

https://www.facebook.com/Elbsludgebooking/
https://www.instagram.com/elbsludgebooking/

Ecstatic Vision, “You Got it or You Don’t” live at Duna Jam 2022