Before Show

Truckfighters soundchecking outside with “Desert Cruiser.” There’s a concrete rise in back of the Knockdown Center, up to a train platform presumably leftover from when whatever what manufactured here, and last year it was open for people to go up like a balcony and watch the bands on the outside stage. It would be hot up there today with the sun beating down, but it doesn’t matter since it’s closed off. So it goes.

Today is the last day of Desertfest New York 2024, and it brings that third, outside stage, where yesterday alternated between the two in the building itself. There are picnic tables out here, corners you can put yourself in if you want, and I appreciate that kind of thing, especially on a day with a crunch of bands. The most brutal schedule conflict? High Desert Queen playing in the Texas room during Truckfighters. Hard choices will be made. I don’t know that I’ll get to take pictures of both, but I plan to watch at least part of each set since it’s not like you have to go down the block to see one or the other. We’ll see how it goes.

Got back and crashed out last night around 1AM. It’s the last day here, so of course one’s head drifts to thoughts of returning to real life after this relatively brief but certainly welcome sidestep. I started packing that glut of stuff I brought with me. I was thinking of driving home tonight, maybe splitting out during Russian Circles, throwing my bags in the car and letting out for Jersey, but I don’t actually expect to be in any shape to do such a thing by then, and Saturday night traffic in New York is like Thursday afternoon. By the time I got home, any favors I’d have done myself by leaving early would have evaporated. That’s me, talking myself out of a thing.

Doors are in four minutes, reportedly. People were waiting out in the sun when I got here. I don’t have an AAA pass or anything because I’ve never been cool, ever, but I do like getting j and sitting a bit before the show starts, writing and whatever else. Calm before the storm? Maybe. Some quiet for the subsequent volume to contrast once the day actually starts. Light tension in the air. You know how it goes.

Like this:

Kadabra

There’s a lot to look forward to today, front to back, but Kadabra must definitely aren’t to be left out of that consideration. The Spokane, Washington-based trio played Desertfest London earlier this year as well and are a better band than the general underground consensus seems to know, though they drew a decent crowd for being the first band on, so maybe I’m wrong on the hype level. Fine. They’re here supporting their 2023 album, Umbra (discussed here, review here), and I very clearly was not the only one who thought to get to Knockdown Center early. The groove and sinister vibe came quick like the haze from the fog machine, only not so quickly breezed away. “The Serpent” and “The Devil” from the latest album featured, and if you wanted to call either a highlight, I won’t fight you. The sound came through clear enough to do justice to the vocal melodies, and their swing was the start today needed.

Gozu

I don’t know how long it’s been and I don’t feel like looking, but it’s too long, in any case. Soul and hard-hitting groove, fury (of the markedly impatient) and craft underneath it all. And every now and again, Gaff might do a softshoe. Well earned. I was watching them play and trying to write, but couldn’t get out of my head, and in what might be the best decision I make today, I stopped trying to write. I put my phone in my pocket and let Gozu bowl me over with their particularly classy roll. It was the right choice, and after half a decade — I felt guilty and looked; last time I saw Gozu was before the pandemic; too long — they both played songs I’d never heard live before and, as of course they would, nailed new material and old. Never a doubt in my mind. Honestly, I was just happy to see them, let alone see them kill it. Not going to pretend to be the impartial observer. I missed Gozu.

Spaceslug

You know that feeling when you’ve dug a band for a while and you see them live for the first time and you dig it and it’s a relief? Seeing Spaceslug for the first time was like that for me. Because it was that, exactly. It was also good to finally see for myself how the live show and the sound of their albums — a consistently evolving thing, definitely on a path — intertwine in terms of presenting the material. The division of duties on vocals and the arrangements have gotten more complex with time, and while you might put on their 2016 debut, Lemanis (discussed here), and 2024’s Out of Water (review here) in succession and know it’s the same band, their breath changes what they mean, and on stage, they can lean into different sides at different times, dynamic without being hurried about it. I don’t know that I’d ever get to see Spaceslug if this wasn’t happening — though I’d certainly make it happen if I could — so thank you Desertfest, and thanks Spaceslug for making the trip and for the show.

Hippie Death Cult

Hippie Death Cult and Kadabra have been out on a tour since last week and were in Rhode Island last night. Meanwhile, Boston got a dose of High Desert Queen, Gozu and Dozer. It’s a good weekend to be on the Eastern Seaboard. Last time I saw the band was at Psycho in 2022 (review here), and that was before basisst Laura Phillips took over on lead vocals. Last Fall brought the release of their first album with Harry Silvers on drums and Phillips on vocals, and with a foundation in Eddie Brnabic’s fluid riffing, they were a Hippie Death Cult able to bring more of an aggressive roll to bear with intermittent harsher vocals; something of a sludgier potential that may or may not be explored over time as they continue to grow. But they were rad when they had Ben Jackson singing and they’re rad now. Hypnotic enough that I forgot to be anxious about missing the start of Eagle Twin, which was nice for a couple minutes to get out of my own head. Twice today. I’m coming dangerously close to letting myself enjoy a thing.

Eagle Twin

Doom with antlers, but not literally, because that also exists. They’re not a band who comes to the East Coast every day, or year, and though I imagine a specific ideal is seeing Eagle Twin out in the woods someplace, they brought a more than solid main stage crowd. I was thinking it hadn’t been that long since I saw them but it turns out it was six years ago at Høstsabbat (review here), where they made a specifically bluesy impression. Go figure. Their sound feels no less born of bigger, more ancient forests than one finds here, but on a level even just of performance and the aforementioned tone, they brought it. There’s a lot to dig about them, I’m just out of metaphors. I took a peak in the Texas stage at Trace Amount, then found a spot at a table with some friends and planted there until a bit before Dozer went on. Eagle Twin were cool, but until I looked just a bit ago I thought I’d seen them in the last few years, and I don’t get a lot of nice, human conversation with people I like in my day-to-day.

Dozer

Powerhouse set, and Dozer’s first time in the States in at least two decades. The urgency of last year’s Drifting Through the Endless Void (review here) speaks for itself, and I’m not here to sell records anyway. But I’m lucky enough that this is my third Dozer show in the last three years after seeing them on what was then a one-off at Desertfest London 2013 (review here), and as classic as their early work is, they’re vital, moving forward in sound from where they left off after 2008’s Beyond Colossal (featured here), coming back after a stretch of time that in hindsight they made short. Propulsive unto themselves in the sphere of heavy rock, people clapping along to Sebastian Olsson’s drums. Their show with High Desert Queen and Gozu in Boston last night precedes them much as it did Gozu, put there were clearly people in the crowd who’ve never seen Dozer before, one can only hope they come back again. Bonus, the train platform was open, so I got to watch from there for a minute too. Enough to witness a light mosh taking shape for the last song.

Green Lung

I wouldn’t hazard to predict the future, but Green Lung look like they’re in it for the long haul. Stage presence enough that I don’t feel ridiculous imagining them playing festivals like this 20 years from now. They could probably play “Mountain Throne” then too. Their organic cultistry, nature-worship and on-stage harmonies were on point, and though I knew all of that would be the case going into the set, it was exciting to see them play songs from last Fall’s This Heathen Land (review here) and take advantage of the full breadth of their sound and a reach that only seems to be expanding. Part of the appeal is that they’re over the top, and they are, but there’s so much raw talent on stage when they play, and they’re clearly learning how to wield it. This is their first US tour. I have a hard time imagining it will be their last. “Maxine (Witch Queen),” “Old Gods,” “Hunters in the Sky,” “Graveyard Sun.” Fucking “Let the Devil In.” Everything they played sounded like it could’ve been on a greatest hits collection. Hooks and performance. They made it a show. It was a spectacle, classic metal in many ways, some of them theatrical, but brought to life with its own take on both conceptual and stylistic traditions.

Truckfighters

This was my moment to both have and eat cake. Truckfighters went on five whole minutes before High Desert Queen. The Ruins (outside) stage is about a minute’s walk from the Texas room, so I watched the start of Truckfighters and then went back and forth for the duration. Acid King was getting started soon enough as well, so it’s probably the most ‘go’ moment of the fest, at least for me, but those are three different parties you want to be at. Truckfighters aren’t the only band this weekend whose reputation precedes them, and they had the biggest crowd of the night outside — also at some point it became night; when may or may not be clear in the photos — and another mosh. Surprising amount of mish this year. It’s like New York is extra antsy since the Saint Vitus Bar closed, which is reasonable, frankly. I got to see Truckfighters do “The Chairman,” and that was justification enough for the back and forth, a mellower vibe in the buildup to the payoff, as opposed to some of their stuff, which is more pure shove and roll. A reputation well and continually earned. Weren’t they recording an album? Or is that just me hoping for a thing?

High Desert Queen

Just a blast of a band. For a good time, call. Up from Austin, they’re on the already noted tour with Dozer and Gozu, playing in support of this Spring’s Palm Reader (review here), their second album and first for Magnetic Eye. Those songs rightly featured heavily in the set, which started 30 seconds after I walked into the Texas room like it was on cue. Tight, heavy groove, nothing too fancy stylistically — I always hear some C.O.C. in their sound, one way or the other, and that was true tonight, but not the end of the story as regards their sound either. You can hear the influence of pre- and turn of the century heavy — if I held up Dozer and Acid King as examples, I’m not discounting the relevance of either’s present work in doing that; I’m just thinking of when they got going — and you can tell watching them that they’re into it. Not everybody on stage is dancing around like vocalist Ryan Garney might be to a given riff from guitarist Rusty Miller, but he, bassist Morgan Miller and drummer Phil Hook were right there too in the moment on stage. It was great to see, and even against Truckfighters on the bill, the room filled up.

Acid King

Fair to say Acid King remain at a crucial moment about a year and a half out from Beyond Vision (review here), which was my pick for album of the year last December — not just me, they topped the year-end poll as well. I’m not worried they’re about to immediately do another record right away — you never know, but Beyond Vision was eight years after 2015’s Middle of Nowhere Center of Everywhere (discussed here, review here), and that was down from 10. But the reason I’m saying see Acid King now isn’t just that Lori S. is a hero and bassist/synthesist Bryce Shelton and drummer Jason Willer are so dead on in the nod, but it’s the songs they’re playing from Beyond Vision. The material itself. “Mind’s Eye” and “Destination Psych.” Closing with that insane build from “Color Trails?” Come on. Any chance you’re afforded, see this band.

Russian Circles

Chicago instrumentalist forerunners Russian Circles came out with a burst, hitting hard in the spirit of 2022’s Gnosis (review here) and building outward from there in multiple directions. Post-hardcore is part of it, but so is psychedelic rock and the occasional time-to-crush bit of riffery, and they’ve found a way to keep structured songs from falling into a verse/chorus trap. They genuinely sound like a band who listen to more kinds of music than the kind they make, amd benefit from it in being able not just to pay loud or quiet, but evoke a different feel from song to song. A lot of anything would have been a comedown after Acid King, but Russian Circles in the headlining spot had a level of volume that was their own as much as their sound, and as it had been a while, I was glad to watch them, or at least listen in a spot where the strobe wasn’t quite so fast. Even as Desertfest draws down, it delivers. There were even more bubbles.

—

It was good to see old friends, new friends, and Desertfest friends, since as the years have gone on I’ve found there are people I see here and that’s it. I take that as a good sign — though I suspect I’d see more people if I went out more — since it means people are coming back, which is the ideal. Desertfest delivered a show to New York a show and a lineup worthy of the Desertfest brand, and I hope it continues to bring European acts over each year as it did in 2024 with Dozer, Spaceslug, Green Lung, Domkraft, Truckfighters, Belzebong, even Amenra. They’ve been working to build a sense of community since the inception, and between killer shows and returning patrons, I’d say they’re on their way.

A note about the Texas stage today before I leave off. I only got (some) photos of High Desert Queen, but I did get to pop in for some of Beinn and Trace Amount as well. I’d never seen either, so at least a few songs. Beinn were a pleasant surprise, kind of a heavy-ended post-hardcore thing, I heard some noise rock and some Cave In, and they went for it on stage, as did Brooklyn industrialist Trace Amount, whose studio work I’ve dug in a kind of machine-misanthropic vibe. On stage, it’s just Brandon Gallagher, and he was all-in, pacing back and forth and throwing himself around, screaming and in the crowd headbanging. It was by no means packed, but I respect the one-man show for sure. Not easy to keep up energy when you’re by yourself. Ask a standup comedian. Tower headlined the room and they continue to make a party out of trad metal in a way that is only endearing.

Thank you to Reece, Sarika, and the Desertfest crew. Thank you to Tim Bugbee, Dante Torrieri, the Great Tomoko, and Sean in the photo pit, and I’m sorry for taking up space. Thanks to everybody who said hi or something nice about the site — or both — and I can’t tell you how warm and welcoming it felt to be in a place where I felt like what I do matters to someone, even just a little bit. Thank you. Thank you for reading. And thanks, as always and most of all, to The Patient Mrs., though whom all things are possible.

More pics after the jump. And I’m mostly taking tomorrow (Monday) off to catch up on writing. Back Tuesday. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go take a 90-minute shower.

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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.

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I was lucky enough to witness a few badass CMJ showcases back in the day that are imprinted as fuzzy memories on my frontal cortex, but for the life of me I can’t think of another NYC-based heavy-fest lineup that can step to what Desertfest New York has in store for Queens next month. Look at those day-splits. The outside stage along on that Saturday, with Dozer and Truckfighers, Hippie Death Cult, Gozu and Kadabra, while inside you’ve got Spaceslug, Eagle Twin, Green Lung, Acid King and Russian Circles? God damn. Plus a Texas (the smaller) stage with, suitably, High Desert Queen alongside NYC mainstays Tower, the punishing industrialism of Trace Amount, Benin and The Infinity Ring.

And that’s following up on the brutality the day before that starts with Guhts in the small room and ends with High on Fire trampling the main stage with Domkraft and Deathchant and Primitive Man and Blackwater Holylight and Spirit Mother and Abrams and Belzebong and Amenra between. As one might otherwise say about Desertfest London, bloody hell that’s a good bill.

A big question, of course, around NYC-heavy-anything in 2024 has been what’s happening since the Saint Vitus Bar got shut down. If you had your fingers crossed the city’s most famed metal venue — which has hosted Desertfest New York‘s pre-show as a point of tradition for the last few years — would be open in time to do so again, you can go back to using your hands. With Legions of Doom, Satan’s Satyrs (including Sean Saley on drums; he’s ex-Pentagram and a bunch of others), Mirror Queen and Mustafina will be at The Meadows. I’m sure it’ll still be a good time, if tinged with some bittersweet aspect in light of the context.

But one way or the other, this is nigh on unfuckwithable, and a festival that NYC should consider itself lucky to host. Yeah I fucking said it. I meant it, too.

From social media:

** DESERTFEST NYC ANNOUNCES STAGE SPLITS, ADDITIONAL 3-DAY PASSES AND FINAL 3 ARTISTS. PLUS PRE-PARTY VENUE DETAILS**

Alright Desertfesters, the time has come for our final announcements ahead of the festival – stage splits are here and so are some tasty final additions to our 2024 lineup. Unfortunately, True Widow have had to pull out of the festival due to illness.

HOWEVER, taking their place is none other than Salt Lake City’s duo of doom Eagle Twin !

We also warmly welcome New England drone/dark folk collective THE INFINITY RING and Brooklyn’s own experimental harsh industrialist TRACE AMOUNT to Saturday’s compelling ‘Vitus Presents’ curation on the Texas stage.

::PRE-PARTY UPDATE:: aka, the news you’ve all been waiting for…

We can now confirm our 2024 pre-party will take place at The Meadows in Brooklyn. This means we can release a limited amount of additional 3-day passes thanks to The Meadows’ larger capacity. We know a lot of you were bummed to miss out on the 3-day passes, so we’re stoked that we can now accommodate more of y’all for the full DF experience!

With just over a month to go til the festival, we couldn’t be more excited to start counting down the days til showtime this September.

Day tickets, 3-day & 2-day passes for Desertfest NYC are available at https://link.dice.fm/desertfest2024. JOIN US!

Stage times, info on this year’s vendors and after parties will be released in the coming weeks.

Desertfest NYC ↠ Sep 12th -14th, 2024
The Meadows (Sep 12th)
Knockdown Center (Sep 13th – 14th)

Tickets ↠ https://link.dice.fm/desertfest2024

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

Eagle Twin, The Thundering Heard (Songs of Hoof and Horn) (2018)

The bummer we all knew was coming. I was reading a news story the other day that was a round-table of virologists, epidemiologists and other doctory-types talking about when they would feel comfortable doing certain things in public again. Way down at the bottom of the list, consensus on attending a concert or other performance was at least a year off. Would you ever have imagined a whole year lost? I don’t think that will be the case worldwide, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s the case in the US given the mishandling of the response to the pandemic, and even when things open up again, what’s that going to be like? Will people be comfortable going out? A generation has been traumatized. Will it take another generation before it’s really over?

I don’t think COVID-19 is the end of live music. People have been performing for other people since before homo sapiens evolved. Fish do that shit. It’s how you get laid. But I think we might be in a moment where we see a fundamental shift in how live music happens. Do venues do limited tickets at a higher price? Does scarcity become the commodity? Do you pay $45 to be one 50 people at a social-distance-friendly gig at Saint Vitus Bar? I don’t know where we’re heading.

To the point here, I’m sorry to see Desertfest NYC caught up in this shit. Last year’s inaugural edition was a great time and I was holding out hope that by September things might be back to some semblance of what used to be normal. Twice the bummer here since I didn’t know The Well — the venue that hosted the festival; not to be confused with the band from Austin, Texas — isn’t coming back. That’s a loss too. There are a ton of bars and venues in New York, but not nearly as many can accommodate multiple stages, let alone one outdoors. They’ll have a good search ahead of them, I think. But hell, they’ve probably already got it solved. No one tells me anything.

At least I hope that’s the case.

Here’s their announcement:

Hello all, it is with heavy hearts that we must confirm the cancellation of this year’s Desertfest NYC due to the COVID-19 pandemic. However, there are a few things we need to clear up – firstly, we want to apologise for this information being communicated via Ticketweb, this happened without our consent. Second, we found out our event was being cancelled and not postponed until Sept 2021 (as discussed with the venue) at the same time you did. It seems our main venue, The Well, are sadly shutting their doors. We understand and sympathise with this devastating time for so many businesses, but we were not given a heads-up to be able to come out with concrete next steps.

We had planned to roll over all our bands to Sept 2021 and were set to announce this, with some new names on the bill, next week. We are still firm on moving ahead with this plan, but will now need your patience and understanding as we try to find a new venue that works within our parameters. In regards to options for refunds, the ticketing is being handled by The Well, so we ask for a little more time here as we try to understand what options there are for our customers.

Desertfest NYC is an independent venture run by 4 people, who run the sister events in London, Berlin & Antwerp. This is not the way we operate and we want to sincerely apologise for this situation, we hope you are able stand with us as we work on delivering a second edition of our US festival. We will be back in Fall 2021…

Thank you for your understanding. Stay safe out there.
– DF NYC

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Mirror Queen, “Curse the Night” Live at Desertfest NYC 2019

Desertfest New York 2020 has made its first lineup announcement, with Corrosion of Conformity, Stoned Jesus, Bongzilla, Dead Meadow, Conan, Crypt Trip, Yatra, Toke, Leather Lung, R.I.P., Huntsmen, High Reeper and The Atomic Bitchwax confirmed. That’s a first North American appearance for Stoned Jesus, and I’ll be honest, I was gonna show up anyway after being there for the inaugural Desertfest NYC this past Spring, but even if I wasn’t, that would be enough to get me on board. Throwing in C.O.C., Dead Meadow, Conan and The Atomic Bitchwax, along with Bongzilla and, well, everybody, is a righteous bonus. One way or another, you got me early with this one, Desertfest. The calendar was marked. I’ll mark it again just to be safe.

Early-bird tickets are gone, but regular-type tickets are on sale now.

Just off the PR wire:

DESERTFEST NEW YORK REVEALS FIRST ACTS FOR 2ND EDITION TAKING PLACE SEPTEMBER 2020

DESERTFEST NYC 2020 11th – 13th September 2020 | Brooklyn, NY, USA

– TICKETS NOW ON SALE –
http://www.desertfest.nyc

Desetrfest returns to Brooklyn in September 2020, after a wildly successful first edition in April 2019 the globally renowned stoner and doom event solidifies its position in the U.S.A. Adding an additional day at Bushwick venue, The Well from Friday 11th – Sunday 13th September, whilst moving its already cult status pre-party at Saint Vitus Bar to Thursday night. Early-birds have sold out already, but regular 3-day & 4-day passes are now on sale, as the first 13 bands are announced for the second celebration of underground heavy music.

Desertfest NYC is pleased to welcome genre defining legends CORROSION OF CONFORMITY to proceedings, the masters of Southern boogie will bring their signature stomp and impeccable live show to The Well in September 2020. After the recent loss of founding member Reed Mullin, we can’t wait to show C.O.C some serious Desertfest love.

Joining C.O.C across the weekend will be psychedelic stoners DEAD MEADOW, dreamy trips into a galaxy of guitar laden fuzz and the melodic drawl of frontman Jason Simon puts the band in a league of their own when it comes to genre-bending rock’n’roll.
Making the trip from further afield we are pleased to welcome long-time friends of the Desertfest clan, Liverpool’s most revered doom band of the modern age, the battle-hammer of CONAN will make a mighty blow upon New York with the uttermost ferocity. Britain seems like the town next door compared to the distant lands of Ukraine, where STONED JESUS will make the pilgrimage for their long-awaited American debut at DF NYC. Heavily regarded as one of the leading bands in the stoner/doom scene in Eastern Europe, the bands defiant anthem ‘I’m the Mountain’ is close to perfection in eyes, and ears, across the globe.

After their unfortunate tour cancellation in 2019, we are pleased to welcome back riff-centric power trio THE ATOMIC BITCHWAX for a high octane set of thunder-boogie. Some of our favourite people to get loose with, Wisconsin premier party-starters BONGZILLA will fire off a sativa induced bacchanal of sludge. Street-walkin’ sleaze demons R.I.P have honed a sound, look and attitude that is entirely their own and will make no apologies or explanations for how utterly crushing it is. Whatever’s in the water in North Carolina seems to cultivate some of our favourite sounds and you’re damn right in thinking that includes TOKE, old-school 70’s worship comes in the form of doom metal quartet HIGH REEPER – a band who repeatedly turn our heads with their unique take on breaking new ground. Speaking of new ground, Americana doom pioneers HUNTSMEN have grabbed our attention with their fresh take on metal, an exceptional blend of Springsteen-equse melodies with crushing heaviness makes an otherworldly combo. Finally, to round off this excellent first reveal, we’re pleased to play host to the superb, CRYPT TRIP, YATRA and LEATHER LUNG.

3-day passes (The Well only) and 4-day passes which includes access to the pre-party at Saint Vitus, are on sale NOW via THIS LINK

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The final day of a festival is always bittersweet, in any context. This being the first Desertfest NYC, it was a time to step back and take stock of the event, the crowd, the proceedings, what worked well, what could be tweaked in the future, and in what ways generally it could grow — because if the Desertfests in Berlin, London and Antwerp are any indication of intent, growth is the idea.

So what about it? The venue worked. The Well is a cool spot, and you almost feel like you’re getting away with something out on that back patio. The tent for the main stage worked. The food worked. The free iced coffee cans from Stumptown Roasters certainly worked for me, if we’re defining “worked” as “kept me upright.” The sound worked. The lights worked for the most part. And the location worked. I got street parking both days, no problem. Mark it a win based on that alone.

The second stage room was intentionally smaller and got to be a squeeze, and with the way the door was, you were either in or out — there was no peaking through to see the band onstage. Not that that’s the ideal way of seeing live music, but it’s better than nothing. It was easy enough to get there early, but I heard people noting it just the same. And it was cold. Yesterday more so than the day before. The sun teased a couple times but wasn’t out for more than about 20 minutes at any point, and then it was night, so it got colder. Rain held off, which was a relief, but there was definitely a flux of people going inside for a bit to get warm before going back out to be in front of the main stage. April in New York. That’s a possibility.

But on the whole, given the crowd size and response, the fact that it ran so well from front to back, and the general spirit of those playing and attending comingling and having a good time, I wouldn’t call it anything but a success. Desertfest is a brand, and they were feeling out a new, tough market in New York, but they pulled it off. I was given a t-shirt and I’ll wear it proudly. I hope they do another.

But holy crap was I tired.

Really, just a mess. Doing a festival is one thing. Doing it not completely removed from the rest of one’s life is quite something else, and I could feel myself showing signs of wear and tear especially early in the day before what little adrenaline my deeply flawed body could produce got to work and got me through. That coffee didn’t hurt either. You’ve made a customer for life, Stumptown. I mean that. I don’t usually even drink iced coffee.

Felt like an earlier start than it was at 3:15PM:

Unearthly Trance

As sadly will happen, Fatso Jetson canceled their trip east to open the third and final day of Desertfest NYC 2019, and I guess it was something of a scramble, but the fest kind of wound up with the opposite. If Fatso Jetson are desert rock, Unearthly Trance are dystopian-expanse-of-concrete-under-a-dark-grey-sky metal. Local heroes from Brooklyn, their 2017 comebacker full-length, Stalking the Ghost (review here), was followed last year by a split with Relapse labelmates Primitive Man (review here), and the few years they spent apart clearly did not dull their impact or atmospheric breadth. Playing in the tent with the sun outside, they were still unremitting in their darkness, and their slow, churning sonic gruel was served up cold to the early crowd, which was perhaps still bleary-eyed from the night before but primed to get bleary-eyed all over again, in no small part to keep warm. That’s a thing, right? Whatever. Unearthly Trance were loud as fuck and bleaker than they were loud. They’ve always been more of an export than a NY-scene band, at least since about 15 years ago, but they gave Brooklyn a showing of some of its best homegrown, and so could’ve hardly been more fitting for that spot.

Sun Voyager

That’s a good band. They’ve got their kinks and quirks to work out — don’t we all — but the second they realize how much power they actually command from the stage, it’s all over. They’ve got newly-announced tour dates in June that begin in Denver at Electric Funeral Festival and will see them bum around the Midwest for a while, and that’s only going to help. More of that. But already their presence is significant. I haven’t seen them since they released Seismic Vibes (review here), which was a debut I was anticipating to an almost embarrassing degree, so they were an absolute must for my weekend, and hearing them do “Open Road” and “God is Dead,” two of the most potent hooks from among the many boogie-driven brainmelters on the record was more than welcome. They would close with the Budgie cover they just issued digitally, “Crash Course in Brain Surgery,” but their energy was infectious and as I stood there and watched I imagined what it might’ve been like to see Nebula 20-plus years ago when they were just really starting to hit it. It couldn’t have been much different. Sun Voyager are awash in potential now and starting to put the work in to pay that off. I will continue to hope they get there.

Ruby the Hatchet

Forerunners of Philadelphia’s burgeoning heavy psychedelic movement, Ruby the Hatchet brought presence and the chops to back it up in kind to their set outside on the main stage. The Tee Pee rollers were fresh off Grim Reefer Fest in Baltimore on April 20 and were on the West Coast earlier this year supporting 2017’s Planetary Space Child LP (review here), and I’ve seen them live a few times at this point, so to find them locked in wasn’t really a surprise as such. The difference was just what they were able to do in being so locked in. It was a classic heavy rock show. Frontwoman Jillian Taylor led the way through the show, with Johnny “Scarps” Scarperia setting the foundation in riffs somewhere between psychedelic rock and proto-doom, Lake Muir‘s bass and Owen Stewart’s drums pushing the groove forward and the keys — it was quite a setup — of Sean Hur adding texture beyond what one finds in the standard boogie rock of the heavy ’10s. Their next album will say a lot for what the ultimate story of Ruby the Hatchet will be, but their live show left nothing to question about who they are as a band, and the Uriah Heep cover for a finale was a particularly nice choice. Hail heavy prog.

ASG

I’ve never been a huge fan of North Carolinian four-piece ASG. Not for lack of respect for the work they do, the time they’ve put in touring, the quality of their records, and so on. Sometimes it just doesn’t click, and I’ll readily acknowledge that’s me and not the band, who obviously weren’t hurting for proponents as they packed out the tent outside at The Well, the chilly air getting chillier and the vibe getting its collective buzz on. I grabbed a can of coffee — honestly, if it had been a bucket, I’d have grabbed that — and watched them for a while and tried to figure out the mental block was stopping me from getting on board. Their 2018 album, Survive Sunrise, was a pick in the Year-End Poll, and I’ve been writing about the band on and off since I saw them in 2011, but everybody else had me beat by far in terms of being into it. My loss, I’ve no doubt. It usually is with that kind of thing. Gave me a chance to go inside and get warm.

Duel

Does Duel‘s reputation precede them yet? Maybe, given the fact that the room with the Desertfest NYC second stage was filling up 80 minutes before the Austin, Texas, four-piece were slated to go on. Part of that was wanting to keep warm, but the band were setting up their gear and looked surprised to see the expectant faces staring back at them. Fair enough. Duel have a pair of killer studio records under their collective belt for Heavy Psych Sounds in 2016’s Fears of the Dead (review here) and 2017’s Witchbanger (review here), and they’re about to unleash the third, Valley of Shadows (review here), on a speedy turnaround May 17 and do the bulk of their label’s impending West Coast package tour earlier next month as preparation for heading to Europe for a month on the road there. So yeah, Duel seemed to be in a good place as they came back on stage at their appointed time and destroyed that tiny room in a way that would’ve translated well to the stage outside, playing like a band taking their delivery to the next level and doing their best work to-date on all fronts. They were riotous and a pleasure to watch. It once again got slammed in the small second stage space as they rose to the occasion, and while everyone there may or may not have known what they were in for, they will next time. Duel are very quickly making themselves essential. A do-not-miss reputation won’t, and maybe doesn’t already, hurt.

Monolord

I’m not sure if Monolord‘s new album — which will also mark their jump from RidingEasy Records to Relapse — is done, or if they’re just already touring for it, but the Swedish trio might as well have been flashing a sign from the stage that said, “NOW IS THE HEADLINING PORTION OF THE EVENING.” Indeed, they and Elder who would follow made up the headliner spots and in the case of Monolord, their primeval riffing, ultra-grooving largesse, chemistry boomed like it was in a meth lab and still-just-dudes-who-like-to-play-loud stage presence was already a highlight of the weekend by the time the first song of their set was done. They’re on the road in the US only briefly this time, having done the Psycho Smokeout on the West Coast as well as this, but they’ll be back for sure after a summer spent in Europe. And I don’t know when they’re record’s coming out, but you’d be a fool not to hold a place on your best-of-the-year list for it whenever it actually happens, because if Monolord have proven anything to this point in their career, it’s consistent. Other bands play, Monolord kill. Make the t-shirt with the spoof logo and sell a million of them. You’re welcome.

Green Milk from the Planet Orange

All three members of Tokyo’s Green Milk from the Planet Orange played seated. Or at least for the most part seated, since I don’t think any of them stayed sitting the entire time, up to and including the drummer, but the arrangement gave their set on the second stage a jazzy feel, with their mega-freaked-out astro-prog heavy grind enhancing that mood. A neon green bass was visible even on what all day was the dark side of the stage, and they likewise were a beacon of weirdness in an undulating sea of riffery. A band on their own wavelength aren’t always easy to listen to — and I’d imagine Green Milk from the Planet Orange‘s new record, which they had for sale outside in the merch area, is plenty frenetic — but the trio made the math add up in their sound and were fun even as they dared the crowd to keep up with them. Most couldn’t, frankly, but that’s the nature of the kind of progressivism a band like that taps into. It’s never been and it never will be for everyone. It was awesome to witness, however, and for the technical prowess and the weirdo vibes coming off the stage, they were a highlight unto themselves. You need that sore thumb band sometimes.

Elder

Elder are arguably the most forward-thinking band in the current American heavy rock underground. By starting out young, they’ve become the spearhead of a generation of acts, and the work they’ve done throughout this decade is unmatched in its scope and the sheer will toward exploring new ideas. Plus it’s heavy. And plus, it rocks. I mean, there are a lot of krautrock bands out there. They’re in Europe. And the US has its fair share of heavy in various stripes, whether it’s desert rock or psych or doom metal or whatever the hell else we’re on this week, but what Elder tie together with their sound is a signature blend of influences that no one else can match, and their style of songwriting is inimitable. The way their parts interact with each other like Nick DiSalvo, Michael Risberg, Jack Donovan and Matt Couto have a musical conversation on stage. The way they’re able to build tension subtly and find just the right moment to swap out trajectories and head someplace else. It’s brilliant in the very real sense of luminosity. They are important, yes, because their influence will continue to spread, but they’re also incredible just to stand back and watch play. Every bit the headliner at this stage in their career, and I suspect they will remain that way for as long as they choose to do so. This is a special band doing special work on their own terms. Long may they reign.

Mick’s Jaguar

I’m not going to pretend I had it in me to stand there for the entire Mick’s Jaguar set. I didn’t have it in me to stand there for the entire Elder set — I had to go sit inside for a couple minutes at one point or another — but I’d seen every band on all three days of Desertfest NY, so you’re damn right I stuck around and waited for them to go on. I love how New York’s version of party rock is still just a little mean. It’s the punk lineage, or at least the spirit of that culture, because even when a band like Mick’s Jaguar come out on the second stage and start tearing into songs from 2018’s Fame and Fortune (review here), there’s still a little edge of “fuck you” to the good time they’re having. Like they’re saying, “fuck you we’re fun.” And they were a blast. It was late and dark in the room, but a lot of people had gone home after Elder, so Mick’s Jaguar were kind of the pre-after-party for the after-party happening after the show. I knew vaguely what to expect going into the set, but as tired as I was and as much as I still had that hour drive home ahead of me, I knew staying for one more song was the right way to go, and hey, no regrets.

—

The actual after-party was being held at The Anchored Inn around the corner. I said goodbyes at the venue and farted my way over there for a couple minutes to see how the cool kids live. They live boozy. I tried not to put my backpack in anyone’s face, failed, and then once again took my leave. Maybe I hadn’t been ready after all for Desertfest NY to end. Maybe I was delaying that drive home.

Either way, the toll would be paid this morning. Got to bed before 1AM, but the alarm went off at 5:50AM to get up, pack the car and drive back to Massachusetts so The Patient Mrs. could go to work. It had been traffic all weekend, so I should’ve expected no different. Left at 7:30AM, got in at 1:30PM. Stops for diaper-change, gas, etc., but yeah. Still six hours for a trip that’s ideally not much over four.

That had me pretty much comatose for the afternoon, but I started this review during the baby’s nap and I’m finishing it now after he’s gone to bed. I’m falling asleep while I type and I still need to sort pictures, so I’ll leave it here, but before I go, heartfelt congratulations to Matte Vandeven and Reece Tee on a job well done, and thanks to them, Sarika, Jake and everyone else involved in the festival crew for having me along for it. I felt welcomed in a way that warmed my heart and set the tone for the entire experience. It was much, much appreciated. Here’s to the next one.

More pics after the jump:

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The Well — not to be confused with the Austin, Texas, band of the same name — is around the corner from where The Acheron used to be in Brooklyn and there still stands The Anchored Inn as a congregation point. I was there for not the day’s first cup of coffee before day two of the inaugural Desertfest NYC kicked off back at the venue. It was cloudy and the air was chilled — April in New York — but by the time Electric Citizen were done, the sun was out and would remain so for the bulk of the day. That helped all the more since the main stage was outside.

A large tent was erected on an expansive enclave of a patio space. In back was the merch area, seating at picnic tables and along the other side there was a bar, taco stand, and the raised shipping container up some stairs that had been converted to a backstage lounge, complete with deck. The vibe was immediately relaxed and cool, with another bar inside and the second stage, in a smaller room off to the side of The Well‘s main corridor. My first time in the space, and it seemed ready for the event from its basic structure to the tent outside, though if Desertfest NYC is going to be an annual event, they’ll need a bigger one.

The afternoon kicked off soon enough, but though the venue switched from the Saint Vitus Bar the evening prior, the mood around was much the same. It was something Ron Holzner of The Skull would effectively summarize in saying, “About damn time we had a European festival come to the States. A sign of good things to come.” One hopes he’s correct in the foresight.

It was a packed nine-band day, mostly alternating back and forth between the stages, and it went vaguely like this:

Electric Citizen

It had been a few years since I last caught Ohio heavy rockers Electric Citizen, but their 2018 album, Helltown (review here), was a stripped down and switched on groover that at the same time offered the band’s most developed sense of melody yet, so yes, it was something to look forward to. I don’t think they were helped by the early slot, but with the bill as stacked as it was, there wasn’t really anywhere else to put them. There was, fortunately, a good crowd to start the day off, and that only grew in number as the RidingEasy Records five-piece went on, their sound pulling elements from cult rock, glam, doom and proto-metal in order to create a brew that’s readily familiar and nuanced at the same time. They played as a five-piece, with keys alongside the guitar, bass, drums and vocals, and frontwoman Laura Dolan noted from the stage that this was their sendoff for a European tour. They’ll spend the month of May in the UK and EU, playing Desertfest in London and Berlin as well as other dates before and after. They sounded ready to go, to say the least.

Tower

Immediately after Electric Citizen wrapped on the main stage, the second stage launched with the classic metal stylings of Tower, who continue a tradition of gritty NY homage to the NWOBHM and early thrash that goes back pretty much to when that sound was current. There’s always been a place for that stuff in New York, and Tower represented well what Brooklyn has done in the wake of bands like Early Man in the last decade and Natur and others in this one, two guitars blazing to coincide with the first off-stage frontperson of the weekend — presumably not the last, though one never knows — and a riotous stage presence that all the more justified that spillover onto the floor. They were probably the most metal act of the day, but still well accessible to the Desertfest NYC crowd. I’ve made the argument a thousand times at this point that classic metal is the domain of the heavy underground. Tower were another notch in favor of that position, and they effectively captured the spirit of the metal to which they were paying homage via their material. Not unfamiliar, but that’s the point.

Danava

Back on the main stage, Portland, Oregon, stalwarts Danava answered such metallurgy with a bit of boogie, a bit of NWOBHM dual-guitar action, and a lot of soul. I’ve been fortunate enough to see Danava a couple times over the years, and though my initial impression of them wasn’t positive, they’ve proven consistent in terms of the high-quality of their work on stage and off — my initial impression, in other words, was wrong. The simple fact that they haven’t put a record out in eight years and continue to get booked on shows like Desertfest NYC and Psycho Las Vegas, where they’ll play the pool party in August, should speak volumes to their continued relevance, and though they had the At Midnight You Die single (review here) out through Tee Pee in 2016, you would have to say they’re due for a record. Overdue. But they killed. Founding guitarist/vocalist Gregory Meleney warned the crowd before they played what was presumably a new song, “Nothing but Nothing,” that they might screw it up, but by all appearances they nailed it, which was basically the case for their entire set.

The Skull

Yeah, I know The Skull is Ron Holzner and Eric Wagner from Trouble, and I know they’ve got Rob Wrong from Witch Mountain on guitar alongside Lothar Keller and they’ve got Brian Dixon from Cathedral on drums (though it was Chad Walls for this show). They’ve got all that, and I won’t take away from anyone’s pedigree whatsoever. But you know what else The Skull have? Songs. Songs. Songs. They’ve got songs that are memorable. Songs that stay with you after you put the album down and move onto the next thing. Songs that, when they play them on stage, you go, “Oh shit yeah, this song!” as I did when they launched into “When the Sun Turns Black” from their 2014 debut, For Those Which are Asleep (review here) and the title-track of last year’s follow-up, The Endless Road Tuns Dark (review here). Stage presence is a factor, of course, and if you’re going to call anyone in American doom a supergroup, it’s probably fair to do so for The Skull, but whatever they do, their foundation is there in the songs, and it’s the songs that carry them most of all. They were and are the best example I can think of for a band building something new out of a storied legacy.

Worshipper

Boston’s Worshipper packed the second stage room beyond capacity — there was a line out the door to get in — and played like a band who are about to release one of the best records of the year, which they are in the form of their second album, Light in the Wire (review here). They opened with “Visions from Beyond” and “Coming Through” from that offering and gave a preview of what they’re soon to take on the road in Europe with their Tee Pee labelmates in The Skull — they too will be at Desertfest‘s London and Berlin editions — as guitarist John Brookhouse and bassist Bob Maloney proffered dead-on vocal harmonies on material new and old, guitarist Alejandro Necochea tore into leads and offered more harmony alongside Brookhouse‘s guitar, and drummer Dave Jarvis pushed the entire thing forward, grounding the psychedelic stretches and keeping momentum on their side, which it was for the duration. They were the band I was most looking forward to in the lineup for the day, particularly in light of their new album, and they very clearly played to the momentousness of the occasion at the first American Desertfest. It was the kind of thing I’ll be glad to have seen.

Weedeater

Some technical trouble with the bass amp before Weedeater went on, but plenty of shenanigans to fill the time and bassist/vocalist “Dixie” Dave Colins spat out auctioneer’s chatter and lines like “crack rocks” and “wow, wow, mom” in checking the mic. The North Carolinian trio — Collins, guitarist Dave “Shep” Shepherd, drummer Ramsey Ateyeh (I think; someone please correct me if I’m wrong) — are on a forever-tour, their last record, Goliathan (review here), having come out in 2015, but they absolutely packed that tent and people went apeshit for them to the point that, when I went into the photo pit later for Windhand, the barricade had moved up in front of the stage to the point that there was no more access to the other side. Weedeater do nothing but deliver, and I know Dixie is kind of playing to character, but dude is working from the moment he hits stage to the moment he leaves. He’s the James Brown of sludge, and Weedeater‘s legend has grown all the more over their nearly-25-years because of that. They played the songs they always play, they kicked ass like they always do, and they proved once more that there’s only ever been and there only ever will be one Weedeater. Accept no substitutes.

Mirror Queen

Let’s face it: you’re never going to beat Weedeater at their own game. Luckily for all involved, Mirror Queen were on a different wavelength entirely. Their progressive-tinged classic heavy rock is a staple of New York’s underground, and with guitarist/vocalist Kenny Sehgal‘s dual-role as the head of Tee Pee Records, their inclusion was all the more fitting. The four-piece, with Morgan McDaniel on guitar, James Corallo on bass and Jeremy O’Brien on drums, bounced and careened through a set that acquitted them well with the Desertfest crowd — doubly fortunate since they’ll be in Berlin soon enough — and asked nothing by way of indulgence while bringing to bear material of melody and weight that wanted neither in perspective or delivery. Mirror Queen have been around, and have had their share of lineup turnover, but the band as they are now was only engaging, and to those familiar with them and not in the crowd, they were a return to consciousness after the bash over the head that the main stage had just delivered. Heavy rock and roll is always welcome, and Mirror Queen were a fitting reminder why.

Windhand

Like Weedeater before them, like Black Cobra the night prior and like Monolord and Elder to follow the next day, Windhand were not an unknown quantity, but for a festival brand feeling its way out in a hard city, they made perfect sense for the bill, and their doom was absolutely massive in the tent that held the main stage. I had been thinking after The Skull played that there was no doom left for anyone else — and certainly Windhand‘s 2018 album, Eternal Return (review here), had more going on than just that — but the Richmond, Virginia, four-piece managed to scrape enough together in order to feel like they were burying the crowd alive in low end. I will gladly argue for Windhand as being among the most important bands of their generation, particularly for those who’ve come up since and have taken influence from the sense of atmosphere they bring to their material in the studio and on stage, and though they had a hard act to follow on the main stage, they lived up to even the mighty expectations that are placed on them at this point wherever they go. They are a headlining band, full stop. They’ve worked hard to become one, and they deserve every bit of significant acclaim they’ve garnered over the years, while still sounding like they want nothing more than to move forward.

Steak

Ambassadors from London’s populous heavy underground, Steak were nothing short of a refreshing way to close out the night. They’ve been a staple act of Desertfest London, which guitarist Reece Tee is also involved in organizing via Desertscene, as he was with Desertfest New York, so like Mirror Queen, they also had a family connection to the proceedings, but even their soundcheck drew a crowd keyed in to the fuzz tone and heavy roll they let loose. They were not halfway through the first song before frontman Chris “Kippa” Haley was standing on the front-of-stage riser, and he’d spend a goodly portion of the set up there, toasting the crowd and personifying the entire band’s really-glad-to-be-here mood, which was infectious. They too packed out the second stage room and held the crowd for the duration, begging a revisit for 2017’s No God to Save (review here) and showing off the development in their dynamic since which is set to manifest on their next record, due out before they play Keep it Low in Munich this October. Seeing them live for the first time in I don’t even want to count how many years only made me look forward to that more, whenever and however it might actually show up, and for the first Desertfest New York, they hit stage like a mission statement of what the festival brand is all about, from top to bottom. It was right on and then some.

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It was not a small amount of day. As of now, it’s about two hours until it’s time to get back on the road from New Jersey to Brooklyn for the third and final round with Desertfest New York. The weather thus far seems to be uncooperative, but we’ll see how it all pans out this afternoon. Shower first. Shower first.

That’ll be good.

More pics after the jump. Thanks for reading.

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An unfamiliar context in familiar environs. Desertscene and Sound of Liberation, who together are behind Desertfest in London and Berlin as well as numerous other events, are playing it smart. New York is a hard town to do a festival, and if they’re thinking of making this an annual event, they’re building from the ground up. It’s not about rolling into Brooklyn and trying to nudge arguably the most entitled audience in the US — because fucking everything comes through New York, and is expected to — into embracing your brand, but about introducing what you do in a way that allows that audience to feel like it’s getting in on something on the ground floor.

To that end, the first night of the first Desertfest NYC was held at the Saint Vitus Bar with a welcoming spirit and a due course of volume. To those who’d point out there are no deserts in New York, congratulations on your cleverness. Please send a self-addressed, stamped envelope for your sticker. For those of more discerning cognition, the point was the music, always, and Desertfest NYC 2019 both embraced the space it was in and the audience it drew in delivering an inaugural night that felt like a kickoff as much for the parties behind it as those in attendance.

Four bands would lead in to two days of nine apiece, and the venue for Saturday and Sunday is The Well, but the Saint Vitus Bar is not only pro-shop from top to bottom, but an intimate enough space to still feel like something special might happen. Whatever the future holds for Desertfest in New York City, I’ll gladly argue that something special already did.

Here’s how the night went:

Heavy Temple

Have you told two friends yet about Heavy Temple? I sincerely hope so, and I hope they do likewise. It was my first time seeing the latest incarnation of the Philly purveyors of hard fuzz, who seem to have sacrificed little of their forward momentum for once again swapping out two-thirds of the lineup around founding bassist/vocalist High Priestess Nighthawk. Now in the company of guitarist Lord Paisley — and congratulations to him on the stage name, because that is marvelous — and drummer Baron Lycan (not bad either), Nighthawk remains the commanding presence at the heart of the band. They’re new in this form, but at least some of what they played was readily familiar from 2016’s shorty-long-player Chassit (review here), and with Nighthawk righteously softshoeing her basslines in true “taking them for a walk” fashion” and Paisley and Lyan certainly more than just along for the ride, they showed that the band’s potential has not at all dimmed for the tumult in personnel. They’re recording — guitars next, apparently — and have tour dates lined up with Ecstatic Vision (info here). I’d say by the end of that run they’ll be on fire, but they already were.

High Tone Son of a Bitch

I seem to have a preternatural aversion to bands with two frontmen, which is a terrible generalization to make across the board, but true nonetheless. Some people don’t like two guitars. I tend to feel like if you’re going to have more than one person whose primary function is as a singer, you need to earn that aesthetically, either with some harmonies or arrangement depth, etc. Oakland, CA’s High Tone Son of a Bitch brought some aggro noise spirit to both traditionalist heavy rock and Southern-tinged riffing, and indeed there was some interplay between their two vocalists, which helped. They’re a band requiring context, with members of Noothgrush and Kalas aboard and the fact that they were together in the early part of the century before losing guitarist Andrew Kott to drug addiction, and taking more than a decade off only to recently begin a comeback. Even for those without the background though, they seemed to hold their own. They’ve been touring with Weedeater — always helps — and were still getting their feet (back) under them amid some competing vibes onstage, but they acquitted themselves well and their new material seemed to pick up where they left off 15 years ago, so all the better.

Here Lies Man

There was talk afterward of Black Cobra stealing the show — and fair enough — but I’d never seen Here Lies Man before, and among the entire weekend’s lineup, they were high among my most anticipated sets. Their two full-lengths for RidingEasy Records, 2017’s Here Lies Man (review here) and last year’s You Will Know Nothing (review here), have both garnered significant critical praise, but they have yet to capture the kind of word-of-mouth-holy-crap-you-gotta-see-this-band backing they deserve. With shared vocals among guitarist Marcos Garcia, drummer Geoff Mann and bouncing bassist JP Maramba and keyboardist Will Rast prominent in the front-of-house mix, they showed just how far they’ve taken the central conceit of the group they started with — “what if Black Sabbath played afrobeat” is how it’s been phrased in the press releases — and made something new from it that’s neither entirely one or the other but all the more a defined Here Lies Man sound. They jammed with character and held down air-tight rhythm and melody with a sense of artistry and professionalism, and as they move toward their third full-length, they only seemed to be poised for people to catch on to what they’re doing. They were, in short, really, really good. You like bands? Okay cool. Here’s a band. Fucking dig in.

Black Cobra

Hey, guess what. Black Cobra were completely dominant. Well of course they were — that’s what they do, and they do it remarkably well. There was some trouble early on with Rafa Martinez‘s bass drum trying to run away from him — only reasonable, since he was kicking the shit out of it at the time — but he and guitarist/vocalist Jason Landrian took the Saint Vitus Bar stage and pummeled, pummeled, pummeled their way into a massive oblivion of thrash-infused heft, delivered with the efficiency of a band 15 years removed from their first EP who have long since attained plug-in-and-destroy status via touring that, for years during that stretch at least, was well into what most humans would consider “excessive.” They’re three years out from 2016’s Imperium Simulacra (review here), and I certainly wouldn’t mind if they did a follow-up to that offering, which was their most dynamic to-date, but let’s face it, if Desertfest NYC wanted to be sure everyone stumbled out of the bar feeling like their asses had just been handed to them, they called the right band. I thought maybe I’d try an experiment and try to review their set without once referencing an act of violence — really, I thought of it while they were playing and people were moshing, chuckled out loud to myself at the notion and was interested to try — but obviously such a cause would be hopeless. With the venue duly laid waste, Black Cobra wrapped their set and gave the addled room over to the after-party, every bit in the fashion of the headliners they truly are.

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One thing I wanted to mention that didn’t fit in the review: I got pushed at this show. I was taking pictures of High Tone Son of a Bitch and was up front for it, and I stepped to the other side of the stage, saw the guy I was getting in front of was wearing a SonicBlast Moledo shirt, said “nice shirt,” turned to take a picture of the stage-right guitarist, and the dude pushed me as if to move me out of his way. I don’t imagine this was someone from the area. I spent a decent few minutes afterwards thinking about the ownership of space, personal agency of one’s body, how one responds to being bullied, my own history in this regard, and so on, and landed pretty much on my initial reaction, which was a hearty go fuck yourself. It’s a show, and shit happens, but if you want to be up in front of the stage so bad, get there first. Otherwise, feel free to kiss my ass.

I saw the same guy after the set as he was walking to the back, and as he passed me, I gave him a little shove. Equal and opposite reaction. No words were exchanged — I didn’t think it required verbal follow-up — and that was it. I didn’t see him again and if I did, I don’t think there would’ve been any residual acrimony. But these moments affect one’s evening, if temporarily, and I was glad to be in a place I enjoy so much and surrounded by so many good people — the New York Faithful Family Reunion 2019 in full effect — who helped put me back in the proper mindset without even knowing they were doing it. It was a great night.

Today the show moves to The Well and it starts in a couple hours, so I’ll leave it there and just say I’m looking forward to it. More pics after the jump if you’re interested.

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