Notes From GRIM REEFER FEST 2023 in Baltimore, MD, 04.29.23
Posted in Reviews on May 1st, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Before the show, at The Ottobar
Never been here before, but it’s a spot on the circuit so certainly The Ottobar is a familiar name. I expect that by the time the sun goes down later it’ll be a good deal warmer in here, and fair enough.
My first time in the space, my first time at Grim Reefer Fest. A little anxious as will happen. I ran into Mersch from Sun Voyager on my way in, did dad talk, which is probably what I’m good for these days. The first-face familiarity was a welcome reminder I’m here to enjoy myself. It was to some degree perilous leaving the house, 
and my car slipped on a wet Rt. 202 in the Flemington Circle and nearly ran into the driver’s side of a Toyota SUV — far be it from me to impugn the handling or traction of the Chevy Malibu, a car that’s as comfortable as a couch and gets the same gas milage, but you know — but beyond that, pretty smooth getting here for the three and a half hours of road time. I was in this town a week ago, if not the room.
But the fest is soon to start, and I worked really hard not to get here at like 10AM or otherwise stupid early, such is always an impulse to b fight. Hard to argue with 10 bands, though looking at that schedule above, I’m willing to bet that by the time Bongzilla go on, I’ll be rethinking various life choices, but screw it, it’s been a while since I got out and I need a day of having riff-forward audio dropped on my head. Desperately. These things remind us who were are, and, if we’re lucky, why. Ate half a gummy. Might disappear into a hole of myself for a while later, I don’t know. We’ll see what the afternoon brings.
So let’s see:
Blightbeast
Their first show, and they were likely the most aggressive band of the day, if not the heaviest, whatever that means at this point. They went to it hard, some bass trouble at the start, and tore the early crowd the proverbial new one. Solos were shredded, riffs were bludgeoned, screams were screamed, and a merry air of shenanigans pervaded, even with (because of?) the chicken bone necklace and bulletbelt on vocalist Phil Doccolo, who doubles as part of the team behind Grimoire Records. Blightbeast also share personnel with Haze Mage (playing later; it’s their party as I understand it) and Random Battles, among others. Everybody seemed to know them, but they were a heavy metal meatgrinder sound-wise, blackthrashing here and slinging sludge periodically throughout. I’m not sure they’d be my thing on record, but I don’t regret seeing their first show in the slightest, and if the record follows suit from the set, I retract my earlier supposition.
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Holy Fingers
Meanwhile, on the other end of the spectrum, and from maybe as far afield as across town, Holy Fingers heavy folk-psyched their way into my heart. My admittedly limited experience of their studio work in this incarnation, 2018’s Holy Fingers II (discussed here), was irrelevant to the liquid progressions coming from the stage. With a guitar on either side, bassist/vocalist Tracey Buchanan held down both the brooding low rhythm of “Hunted” and from about there on, everything else today is gravy. That’s a band that needs to do a record. Like, today. Release that set. Anything, just take my fucking money. I don’t generally think of a band’s music itself as inspiring, but Holy Fingers made me want to write. In a field. On another planet. Three-sun day. Space birdsong and shit. Their setlist, which yes, I got, had six songs. I don’t know if they played all six but I lost time in there somewhere maybe. Mesmerized. Hell’s bells.
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Faith in Jane
A resounding argument in favor of live music are Faith in Jane. Band is hot shit. So what, you say? They were hot shit seven years ago, you say? That’s true, and they’ve grown into themselves a little bit since then — they had a single out in March, if you’re up for studio documentation — but they’re still young and they’re more confident on stage. Guitarist/vocalist Dan Mize, bassist Brendan Winston and drummer Alex Llewellyn — I can’t help but feel like if it was 1991 or maybe even 1971 would’ve been scooped up by some major label by now and turned into household names. True, they would not be the first heavy band from Maryland to miss out on the commercial potential of another era, but Faith in Jane are on their way to being on-stage masters — again, a road they’ve been walking for a while now — and they’ve got like 15 records or some such and none of them suck. They picked up on the pastoralia and guitar nuance of Holy Fingers and found the only grunge-blues bar in existence to present them in. And I know Mize is a beast, he is, a genuine talent and a pleasure to watch play since he still puts his soul in it when he’s good enough to probably get away with not, but Winston and Llewellyn too, each one of them locked into being part of the trio. Classic.
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Sun Voyager
Looked up and didn’t recognize Sun Voyager until I looked stage right and saw bassist Stefan Mersch. They’re using a drummer who played or plays in fellow King Pizza Records denizens The Daddies, filling in for Kyle Beach, who had a good excuse. Between that and still-new-to-me guitarist/vocalist Christian Lopez, they were two-thirds a new lineup since I last saw them, which is also since they released their self-titled LP (review here) on Ripple Music. Fill-in drummer and new-ish guitar player, plus the change in dynamic bringing Mersch to a more prominent role vocally, while Lopez’s voice is blown out through effects, it feels almost unfair to point out how much fun the set was since the band’s got so much flux going on and who knows what it’ll be next time. What’s going to happen with Sun Voyager? Forefront of a generation of East Coast heavy psych? Inheritors to Naam? Barely-upstate curio? I feel like it may take the next five years to find out. In the meantime, they’re doing the work, doing everything they need to be doing, including not forcing it, putting out killer records and burning even more barns on stages of rooms like The Ottobar moments ago, and no, I’m not going to fix that metaphor because fuck it biker space rock. Early headliners for me.
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False Gods
They were a big change in vibe coming off Sun Voyager, Faith in Jane, Holy Fingers, but False Gods claimed the stage for their own and smashed it accordingly. The New York outfit are hardcore-rooted, sludge-adjacent, and aggressive enough in presentation to give Blightbeast a challenge in that regard. They bring the styles together though, so it’s not just a hardcore part then a doom riff then the big mosh break, but something of the band’s own made from those parts and impulses. They seemed happy to be here, and their 2022 album, Neurotopia, was no less dense. There are a few different presences within the four-piece, but that came together around some pretty mammoth groove and by the time they were done, they had well established dominance over the room, and by extension, the greater Chesapeake region. Vocalist fell to his knees — which, first of all, man, I don’t know which side of 40 you’re in but having had surgery in November and still wearing a brace here, take it easy on those knees — twice, which was a bold move but earned by the subsequent screams. That shit can make you lightheaded and I’m not even being a smartass. Safety first.
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Wizard Rifle
Well, Nanotear has been right all along about Wizard Rifle. I had the feeling. The rest of us, you, me, we’ve been missing out. Or maybe not you since you’re cooler than I am. Me. I’ve been missing out. Fortunate, then, that the duo are on tour with Bongzilla, who are fellow clients of Nanotear Booking, the aforementioned agency who’ve been so thoroughly correct. Wizard Rifle, whose press shots I know better than their songs, took West Coast quirk riffing to its logical prog extension, and it was impressive energetically as much as technically. I wouldn’t say they laid waste, since they’re not really that kind of band, but in terms of style they’re firecracker heavy rock, bursts and booms set up in contrast to skyward sprints, but they’re dug in too and surprisingly immersive as they seem also to be testing each other and themselves onstage and with the material. I guess it’s time to go back and get with the records — there’s merch upstairs but I don’t want to leave my spot up front — because having seen that in-person, I’m interested to learn how it translates. Nothing says, “this was a very cool and fun rock and roll show” like assigning yourself homework.
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Haze Mage
Well that was a win. Haze Mage didn’t take it easy on themselves, picking their own slot after Wizard Rifle, but they have a deceptive amount going on for a band who are also such a party. They’re metal one minute, weed-worship the next, classic doom, bit of char on the tremolo — it was a blast. Songs brought in some slide guitar, some tambourine, all in the name of differentiating the songs, and they had only the second standalone frontman of the day, and perhaps Matthew Casella was more subdued than he might’ve otherwise been owing to whatever apparatus that was on his leg — I’m telling you, you gotta watch out — it looked significant, but he still delivered in terms of performance, as all five of them did in their own way, guitarists Nick Jewett and Kevin Considine kind of on Planet Guitar together on stage left while bassist Scott Brenner took advantage of the extra space to boogie on his own side, John De Campos behind on drums, occasionally adding vocals. They were a trip, to be sure, and while I dug their March 2020 (oof) split with Tombtoker (review here), the really good news is most of what they played was new, so they should hopefully have some kind of release or another in the works soon.
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Borracho
Could not possibly tell you the last time I saw Borracho, and I tried looking back. It’s been a while since I’ve or another doom fest but definitely it was before the pandemic, so I’ll say it’s been at least half a decade. Long enough, to be sure. The D.C. trio — guitarist/vocalist Steve Fisher, bassist/vocalist Tim Martin, drummer Mario Trubiano, as they’ve been since they first pared down from a four-piece to a trio like 11 years ago now. They posted two new tracks yesterday in kind of a space rocking feel, but they’ve got a new record coming out to follow-up 2021’s Pound of Flesh (review here), and it’s a Borracho record which means it’s the kind of heavy you can rely on. One consequence of my not watching them in however many years, I haven’t gotten to appreciate Fisher’s guitar face. He’s got the best one. It’s as though he’s telling the crowd, “oh gee, these riffs are really heavy I don’t know if I can roll ’em this time,” but then of course he does, with help from Martin and Trubiano. However long it had been, it had been too long. I’ll have more on their new record as we get there — at least I hope; would be some shit if I stopped covering the band after 12 years or some shit — but this was a blast as a herald for that.
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Ilsa
Rumor had it Ilsa were quite, quite loud. Can confirm. Three guitars playing through full stacks, then bass, then shouts and screams, and drums back there giving the marching orders. I don’t know if Ilsa are the most aggressive band of the day or not — they’re more sad and pissed off at themselves about it, it would seem — but they’re both loudest and nastiest thus far, and their crust beneath their dark hardcore sludge metal will be a fitting transition to Bongzilla. They had the first mosh I’ve seen all day, though I’ll grant I haven’t turned around an awful lot to see either way. They were devastatingly heavy, in any case, and that’s clearly what they were going for. I’ve sort of casually followed their trajectory in the way one gets Relapse press releases, but can’t recall ever seeing them live before. And having seen them now, safe to say that’s something I would remember. Now homework? Could be, but that kind of volume push is hard to capture on a full-length and frankly, I’m tired as crap after standing in the same spot for the last eight hours and I finished my water bottle and can’t leave the front because I’ll lose my spot and so there you go. Ilsa punished that, I guess. Reasonable, somehow, and brutal in kind.
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Bongzilla
I remember very clearly the last time I saw Bongzilla. Slushy April day in 2016 (review here), and they were on a bill with Kings Destroy, Black Cobra and Lo-Pan, presented by this very site. Good fun. So it’s been a while. In the interim, the Wisconsin band — who, yes, will absolutely trade merch for THC in any number of incarnations, many of while Muleboy listed from the stage — “anybody else do a dab today? you’re freebasing marijuana.” — have released one album in 2021’s Weedsconsin (review here), and their new one, Dab City, is due June 2. It sounds like fucking Bongzilla. And on stage? They sounded like fucking Bongzilla. Dirt-coated, weed-worshipping, slow, heavy nod. They are largely above reproach in concept or execution; were it not for the fact that they helped create stoner sludge, they might be out of the critical sphere entirely. It doesn’t matter. The day came down to the core message — get high, be loud — and certainly I’m not about to fight them on it. Bongzilla are statesmen of this. Ambassadors from planet Delta 9. Even if I had a complaint about seeing them again as they get ready to release a new album — and mind you, I don’t — no way in hell would I say so. Bongzilla need to make one of those bumper stickers in the ‘Virginia is for lovers’ design except it says ‘Bongzilla are for stoners.’ Yes, I just thought of that right now. Goodnight everybody!
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Thanks to Scott Brenner and whoever was playing Genghis Tron and then Ween’s “Baby Bitch” between the bands. Thanks to the Holy Fingers crew for saying hi. Thanks to Chris and Lew for the crash spot. Thanks to The Patient Mrs., through whom all things are possible.
More pics follow the jump. Thanks for reading.
