Got to the festival grounds early even for the yoga, but it was mellow and fine. You can always find a spot to sit before doors open. I didn’t quite have my whole wardrobe with me — actually I packed one tshirt too few for the trip and needed to buy one to fly home in; mandatory merch; I took care of it early — but I had my raincoat, my hoodie, my warm hat, my brimmed hat for the sun and my sunglasses, all in my camera bag, which with the camera as well made it pretty tight. So it goes. I felt like I was ready for whatever the day was going to bring, at least weather-wise.

Knowing that I’d already be at the airport in 24 hours put the day into a different kind of focus, but there was still a lot of Freak Valley to go and I wanted to take it in as much as possible while I could. You know how it is. Let me get through one thing before I start getting nervous about the next. Rare luxury, I suppose. I was beat, of course, but that didn’t matter yet either listening to the birds and somebody soundchecking drums.

It has to be noted that the Rockfreaks family — the kind, generous and passionate people who put on this festival, call the Vortex Surfer in Siegen home, and so on — lost a member this April with the passing of Ralf Stötzel. Ralf was a steady presence at the check-in counter every year here, and beloved.

In my experience, I never heard an unkind word from or about him, and he was important to this community. There were tributes set up backstage — a shot and a beer out by photos the food tent — in his memory, and prior to the Tranquonauts set, Jens Heide, who runs the thing, and the crew got onstage and paid homage as well, with no less than Bill late of Bushfire on the mic. Ralf is and will continue to be missed.

The yoga was banger and well needed again — thank you, Judith — and that led basically into the start of the day with Upupayāma, and then it was back to it from there.

Here’s what I saw:

Upupayāma

The Italian psychedelic joybringers have a new album out, but I only learned about it like 12 hours before making the trip to Freak Valley — this ain’t Pokémon; you’re never gonna catch ’em all — but while I hadn’t heard Honesty Flowers yet, I very much enjoyed The Golden Pond (review here) in 2022, and I was looking forward to seeing them. First flute and first sitar of the weekend, and those made the band’s loose swinging trippy shuffle even more engaging, alongside the keys, additional drums/percussion, and so on. I think Super Jet Kinoko had more people on the stage, but it was a party anyhow, in that very specific lysergic-jam-nerd kind of way, which I’m almost always down for at this point. I mean, there was literally a child skipping to the flute out in front. That kind of magic. They got it going, built up momentum over their time, but were still mellow-vibes, and I think that resonated well with the hungover contingent as well as those coming in fresh to the day. I’ll do my damnedest to hear that record, but they’re not a band I ever expected to see, and though I’ve said that many times in my life, each one makes me feel the same: lucky to be here. That feeling was a great way to kick off the afternoon, not the least after yoga.

BB BlackDog

Were entirely new to me. Two basses, one four-string, one five, and the four was played high on the neck with a lot of wah for a sound that was full in its fuzz but still gave a character distinct from the other supply of low end running concurrent. Then you get to the drummer, with a setup elaborate and weird enough that I wondered if he did the machining himself. High dose quirk, but the songs were there and as I soon learned in the merch, 2026 marks their 20th anniversary. So maybe I’m late to the party on the self-billed steampunkers from the UK, but it was a learning experience I was glad to receive as they crossed from heavy rock into funk, psych and other dug-in oddness. Maybe this year is more costumes, more willfully individual, though there was certainly that here last year as well. I don’t know, but the day before as well, I had been struck by the minute-ness of it all, how there’s music that makes complete sense to you if you have the background, the context for it, and if not, I’d imagine it leaves you scratching your head. BB BlackDog, which I’m pretty sure is how you write it, were one of those bands. I would say it must be nice for a band to be someplace like this, where they can be understood in a different way even than a regular show, but the truth is I know exactly how it feels because it happens to me too, and it’s fucking awesome.

Sergeant Thunderhoof

They put on a show, do Sergeant Thunderhoof. Their particular take on heavy prog rock, topped with the classically metal soaring vocals of Daniel Flitcroft was known to the Freak Valley crowd, and that in itself was cool to see. I caught Sergeant Thunderhoof in early ’25 at Planet Desert Rock Weekend in Vegas (review here) — they’ll be there again next January — and, well, it’s not like the wheels have come off as they’ve continued to support 2024’s The Ghost of Badon Hill (review here), so it was cool to see them again, even as darker clouds started rolling in and the wind picked up. Foreboding? A bit, but so was Sergeant Thunderhoof’s brooding melodic take, heavy and bleeding a bit where I stood with the second stage soundcheck, but my impression this time only confirms what I thought after the last one: they know what they’re about, they’ve grown consistently and steadily over time, and the songs stay with you. Pro-shop. Classy on sonic terms, but still probably a band who’d pound a beer with you if you hit them up. You should do that, maybe.

Fuzz Sagrado

Obviously it was good to see Christian Peters take the stage and play songs from his time in Samsara Blues Experiment. Of course it was, and I’m not going to pretend to be impartial about something that made me so personally happy. But having dug into his subsequent work under the banner of Fuzz Sagrado, which on record has been almost entirely solo, it was extra cool to hear those songs too with a full band bringing them to life. And the not-exactly-opposing-anyhow sides bled together with a flow that made the two entities make more sense side-by-side, that progressive character in Peters’ songwriting being the tie in terms of sound, with the performance aspect part of that as well as he and the members of Black Box Massacre have gelled as a lineup on their current tour, which as I understand it won’t be their last. So does the full Fuzz Sagrado band do a record? I hope so, but for sure I’d take ‘Live at Freak Valley’ for a start. Fingers crossed on that one. Only candy-striped drumkit of the fest, and put to wondrous use riding out the big groove at the finish, Peters on synth adding texture to the build happening on guitar, bass and drums. This was the last show of their tour, which The Obelisk co-presented, and that was another appeal, but really, I think the last time I saw Peters onstage was 2013 — he and I both had long hair — and it felt really, really good to watch him play. Dude has been on a journey to get to where he’s at, and Fuzz Sagrado onstage felt like a due celebration. Sure enough, someone in the front threw confetti at the end.

Håndgemeng

Hell yes, headbangers. Get it. You just knew listening to Satanic Panic Attack (review here) last year that Norway’s Håndgemeng were going to be a shove onstage, and so they were, running a line between party thrash and heavy rock without being retro either, going hard and giving every impression of not giving the slightest of fucks while also being impeccably tight. The rain had stopped by the time Fuzz Sagrado were done, and so there was little to stop the mosh for Håndgemeng, and that felt right. The kind of band who, if they don’t yet have a beer brewed in their honor surely will sooner or later, and they might have already, now that I think about it. They did slow down some, nestle into a bluesier roll for a bit, but the volatility didn’t just disappear, and their brashness hit at just the right point in the day for me, even as the came back in some force. I missed seeing Håndgemeng at Desertfest Oslo on the outside stage (too crowded for me; I do the best I can) and consoled myself knowing they’d be here. They had new material in the set as well, which was expectedly furious, and if they hit the studio with the same intensity they had onstage, it’ll be one to look for. No bullshit but drunken bullshit. To normies I bet they’d sound angry. Here people crowdsurfed. Do you understand what a precious thing that is?

Tranquonauts

I was there at the airport when Tony Reed and Isaiah Mitchell met, like, for the first time. This was Tranquonauts first gig ever, the band being the two of them and the cats from Seedy Jeezus: Lex Waterreus, Mark Sibson and Paul Crick. They had rehearsal on Thursday and I assume yesterday as well even though Seedy Jeezus played a set, but they’ve made now-three records together working remotely, so it’s as good a time as any for a first gig. They might’ve been nervous, but you’d be hard-pressed to find a more supportive crowd than Freak Valley’s and in addition to the band’s original jams — because again, they have a catalog at this point — they covered UFO’s “Space Child” with Mitchell on vocals. That’s three powerhouse guitarists, so don’t be surprised when I tell you it was heavy on the solos, but they seemed to be having a good time basking in all that shred, and the same was true of the people out front. There were residual big feelings following the tribute to Ralf, but Tranquonauts were so sincere in their revelry, that the emotion kind of fed into it, and at the end, with Reed and Crick leaning back to back on each other and the rampant shred — I think Mitchell would’ve kept going on that last solo — they all stood together on the stage, thanked the crowd, thanked Ralf and still had people cheering as they broke down their gear. I wondered when and where their second show would be.

Kylesa

I saw Kylesa 14 months ago at Roadburn (review here), and this was the second date on a run of summer fests split up between this month and end of July/August, so I was curious to check in with guitarist/vocalists Laura Pleasants and Philip Cope, and their ringer rhythm section of bassist John John Jesse and drummer Roy “Now You Don’t Need Two Drummers Anymore” Mayorga and see where the last year had brought them. Quite literally, to Germany from Barcelona, Spain, the day prior, but it wasn’t like they weren’t going to kill it. It’s Kylesa. There’s never been anyone better at what they do because nobody did what they do before them. And somehow they’re still a punk band. It’s kind of mind-boggling, but just because you see the train coming doesn’t mean it isn’t about to run you over. Watching them, obviously I started to wonder if they’re thinking new album yet, if they’ll take that next reunion-band step, but obviously they have more touring ahead of them and in a genre that needs headliners, they’re ready. With chug, and crush, and Roy fucking Mayorga. Monster band. And the legacy is what it is — that material still slays, speaking from personal been-slayed experience — but I mean Kylesa right now. They pulled what looked to me like the biggest crowd of the weekend, and then flattened it.

Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats

Their new single “Don’t Let it Control You” (posted here) heralds a return to more straightforward Uncle Acid craft after 2024’s cinematic conceptual Nell’ Ora Blu (review here), but I’ll take it however it comes, honestly. The UK garage doom progenitors are more than 15 years tenured at this point, and they’ve offered more than one masterpiece in that time — arguably the last record counts there as well — and since the first time I saw them in 2013, their evolution as a studio and a stage act has fleshed out all that potential their at-that-point-one-of-a-kind eerie melodies, irresistible cultmaking hooks, harsh-produced riffs and grit-tooth vibing had in their earlier days. I don’t know when their album is coming out, whether it’s tomorrow or next month or next year, but I know that when it lands, it will be welcomed far and wide. At Freak Valley, it was all there in that immediately identifiable fuzz. They opened with “Mt. Abraxas,” and if you weren’t headbanging, you were probably already back at the campsite. Special band, and a perfect capper for a weekend of music for, of and by the underground.

—

I leave to go to the airport in about an hour and a half, which should give me time to finish packing and maybe slam some of the scrambled eggs downstairs at the Hotel Ewerts before my ride comes. I think.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you to Jens Heide and the Freak Valley/Rockfreaks family. Thanks Alex, Marcus, Pia, everybody backstage. Thanks Judith for the yoga, and Pete for being my yoga buddy once again. Ralf would’ve been proud. Thanks Bill for making it out on Sunday. Thanks Tim for meeting early for breakfast yesterday so I could stll have time to sort photos.

Thanks to The Patient Mrs. as always, and to my mother and sister. It’s only been a few days, but I look forward to getting back home and seeing my family, even if it means another flight between now and when I can do so.

This is a special fest, in a special place, put together by special people. The crowd is familiar faces, smiling. I was glad to be back. Next year, if I’m so lucky again, a note to myself to bring the big lens.

More pics after the jump.

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I slept every minute that was available for sleep, woke up early for breakfast and photo-sorting, and slept again after that too. When I went to shower, nothing came out of the hot water, and when I went downstairs to report same, I got a cup of coffee that I promptly spilled in its entirety tripping back up the stairs. Because that’s who I am, damnit. If I’m not giving myself a reason to apologize, am I really living? Who would I even be without humiliation?

Freak Yoga before the day started was the right call. Restorative, fun, lighthearted, nonjudgmental and set to heavy music. Basically ideal. If I could bring myself to do it every day, I’m pretty sure I’d live forever. I’m all tight and sore and a bit of stretching and My Sleeping Karma is almost always going to help. The weather again was pretty grim at the start but was forecast to get nicer later on, if cool. I was just happy to not be falling asleep while anyone was playing.

Here’s my day:

Seedy Jeezus

There was a dump of rain a couple minutes before Seedy Jeezus went on, as if to refresh the mud in the photo pit. Ha. It was over by the time the set actually started, and so it was an unmitigated pleasure to see the Australian heavy blues rockers again. Steeped in ’70s, with melancholy in their newer stuff and boogie in the old and kind of both all along, they’re a trio who absolutely bleed the love for what they do on stage, and the smiles and warmth were infectious. Lex Waterreus on guitar and vocals, Paul Crick on bass and Mark Sibson on drums; no pretense, no bullshit, just get up and hit it. Not that I don’t dig elaborate when it’s called for, but Seedy Jeezus’ songs are so human, it would be silly if they played any other way. There was another deluge right about in the middle of their set, rain and wind, and even Waterreus noted being cold as he shook out his arms to loosen up. They mixed it up around stuff from last year’s Damned to the Depths (review here), and the folks in the side tent where I stood were on board for sure, and reasonably so. It wasn’t ideal with the cold and the wet, but it was as close as we were going to get to it, and they kicked ass regardless.

Howling Giant

They brought the sunshine, and their energy was no less life-giving. Was it weird that one of the sets I was most looking forward to this weekend was a band I saw all of three weeks ago? Maybe. I caught the first show of Howling Giant’s Euro tour at Desertfest Oslo (review here), and as this was the last one, the chance to bookend with them — because for some reason no matter how many times I invite myself they never bring me along (I’m kidding) — was something special and so was the set. All smiles, all relief, sun and cool air and harmonies even in the guitar solo of “Sunken City” later on, and you could feel the good time they were having. I stood by the side of the stage up front and was there the whole time after pictures. I didn’t go off to write or get more water or give in to that gotta-move impulse I always seem to feel at these things. I stood, enjoyed it, rocked out a bit, pulled my earplugs out for “Glass Future,” and so on. Somebody in the crowd blew bubbles. Dancing, headbanging, both accommodated by the band’s sound. Barring disaster, this won’t be the last I see of them this year, and I can’t help but look forward to the next one already. A dose of that will keep you going. Safe travels home and thanks to Howling Giant. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. Bonus points to Adrian Zambrano for the ‘fukice’ on his guitar. I’m not sure if that was there in Oslo, but yes.

Super Jet Kinoko

Operating in the finest tradition of dancey weirdo J-psych cosmic throb, Super Jet Kinoko were a left turn from the unabashed hooks of Howling Giant, but the vitality was still there and people were ready for it. I mean, as ready as you could be for the dancing bird, dual vocals, synth and hand-percussion extravaganza they put on. Planet Earth, not ready. Freak Valley though. Pulses from a drum machine added to the physicality, and the costumes even aside from the bird head, were no less on point than the techno aspect. One dude had his hippie sticks out and was going to town in the sunshine as the bassline shifted (dimensions), holding to motion on an ideological level even as they seemed to space out. The most raw-psych band of the fest so far, but clearly over-the-top was what they were going for, so it all made its own kind of sense in its absurdist nonsense. But busy as it was, there was plainly a plan at work, and for being a lot, you never felt like they lost control or didn’t know where they were going next, and that was apparent to me as someone who’d never seen or heard them before. They fit right in — Mr. Mushroomweinerpants jumping into the crowd, etc. — which cannot have been something they were used to doing. But people ate it up, which was really the only way to go.

—

Are you hydrating? What and when did you last eat? Are you taking time to talk to people like a human might? Have you been to the merch yet? How badly do you wish you had your brimmed hat (because you have the beanie The Patient Mrs.’ Mom knit for your giant head) and sunglasses? How about you just find a spot and chill the fuck out? Remember to breathe, you antsy bastard.

—

The Neptune Power Federation

Coming from Sydney, Australia, The Neptune Power Federation were a logical follow-up to Super Jet Kinoko, while bringing a different kind of theatricality to their presentation, at least as far as vocalist Screaming Loz Sutch goes. The songs were straightforward and rooted in classic hard rock, and Sutch was a definite presence on the stage, even beyond the headdress, while the band behind kept things moving with sneaky efficiency. A healthy push kept the crowd going, and I decided I should dig into Mondo Tomorrow, which they released in April and almost immediately followed with a redux of their first record. No, I don’t know the difference between the the original or the new one, but let that be emblematic of an oddball aspect that most definitely came through in the set as well. They covered Ratt’s “Bang Your Head (Metal Health)” — which they also do to close Mondo Tomorrow — and that was fun too, the audience clapping along as the Imperial Priestess Herself soared over one of the catchiest choruses the genre of metal ever produced. Indeed, heads banged. I felt like I needed more coffee to keep up, but no question they were all-in.

The Grand East

Considering their debut EP isn’t out yet, I’m guessing I’m not the only person in the crowd for whom this was a first exposure to The Grand East’s synthy sleaze, but folks have been ready to dance all day and in between their frontman mugging for the Rockpalast cameras, which to be fair were right in his face waiting for it, and the swap between electronic and organic drums, plus keyboards besides, there was plenty enough to help abate even the most persistent cases of the wiggles. Maybe wasn’t my thing, but I’ll check out that EP to confirm that, and I’m no fun anyhow. The assembled masses of Freak Valley, on the other hand, let rip like it was Friday night, which of course it was but you take my point. For being an apparently new band in a killer slot, The Grand East endeared themselves and won people over — helps that everybody loves shorty-shorts, I think, but there were howls — and were by no means dumb musically, careening and boogieing and ’70s here and ’80s there and ’00s garage a bit, taking seemingly disparate ideas and smashing them together like a hadron collider of shove. I went and ate some dinner, which I mention for accountability, and made it back for the finish as they tied it all together and drove the point home. That point? Look out.

Long Distance Calling

Clearly it was time to dig in, and progressive instrumentalists Long Distance Calling were to be the means to that end. The German five-piece celebrate their 20th anniversary this year and have a new album out called The Phantom Void to mark the occasion. Sans-vox prog feels like a setup for a band to be indulgent as hell, but what pulled me in the most was the sense of structure in the material, the fact that they had songs, and in that, I was even a little reminded of Karma to Burn (not a sonic comparison necessarily; more ethical), who of course were also (mostly) steadfast in their instrumental approach. Maybe some of My Sleeping Karma wistfulness in theree too. I guess comparing bands who write songs without singers in mind is pretty weak as regards insight — sorry — but Long Distance Calling were able to immerse their audience without diving headfirst into an effects wash or extended jams. And nothing against a band who does that — I like a lot of heavy instrumental jams — but the tighter rein and steady, methodical builds suited Long Distance Calling, and it wasn’t their fault that after the emergent gorgeousness of the afternoon, the rain started again while they were playing. Not too much, and not nearly enough to stop the people up front from clapping along at all, and fair enough for the reachout in the songs and the impact set alongside some of the float in the guitars. I ended up enjoying it more than I expected to, which sounds like a backhanded compliment but is intended with only the frontest of hands.

—

I was pretty well cooked at this point in the evening. Long day, fair amount of sun, jetlag, old and out of shape; you name it. There was a longer break on the main stage before Messa, which allowed for Darmstadt’s Trails to play a set on the second stage — Greek punkrippers Frenzee did likewise between Messa and Goat — but on the one side of the sky was a gorgeous sunset and it was still raining, so naturally I started looking for the rainbow. It was behind me, of course. Double rainbow at Freak Valley 2026, y’all. Trails were plugging away with riffs and push in ample supply for all, and they pulled a lot of heads over to the corner of the property, but I made my way to a little spot and took the rest where/when I could get it because there was still more night to come, or let’s say the night at all since it was daylight until like 10PM.

We now return to your regularly scheduled review, which you never actually left…

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Messa

The Italian genremelders started out at a slow burn, and to be honest, that wasn’t what I needed at that point in the day, but dang they were immersive and their sway in those quiet moments is essential to who they are. I get it, is what I’m saying, I was just tired as crap, so when the blastbeats or the next bluesroller riff kicked in, it was refreshing. That expansive stylistic mindset has always felt intentional on the part of Messa. They quickly became masters of their approach, and have reaped acclaim accordingly — hyped far and wode, with a touring impulse to match — and by now they’re professionals as well as creative songwriters, so the hype is thoroughly justified. Melodic, dark, dynamic and continually growing, they were a shift from Long Distance Calling and Trails alike, and I guess from the day in general; there was so much dancing when the sun was out in the afternoon. There was still dancing, plus some making out — I don’t know when P.D.A. in my head went from “public display of affection” to “pathological demand avoidance” (look it up), but it did — and that probably wasn’t unreasonable either. Messa are a band heavy metal is lucky to have.

Goat

I was dead on my feet, which I mention not purely to complain — much as I do love that — but to emphasize the allure of Swedish freak-psych troupe Goat for making me stick around as long as I did. The band were in full regalia, costumes, fleshed out percussion arrangements, boogie from capital ‘e’ Elsewhere. Not my first time seeing them play, but I couldn’t tell you how many years it had been. What hit me about it was that for all the oddities, all the intricacies, all the twists and shuffles and changes and melt-your-chemicals that Goat have going on, so much of their sound relies on Rickenbacker bass as its launchpad. Worldly in the musical sense, they were the last party of the night for those still looking to get down, and you’ll get no argument from me if that was you, but my brain and body were destroyed even before Messa went on, so Goat played me out, and if I’m honest even at that point they put a little bounce in my step. When I got back to the hotel, I put on the Rockpalast stream and was glad to have the chance to do so. Talk about your sole-occupant wavelengths.

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The cab on my way out said he didn’t take a card. I don’t know why that’s a thing? Cash only? Does that make it easier to rip me off? I don’t even give a shit. Overcharge me. I’m going like a mile down the road. I will pay you 20 euro to get me there, I couldn’t care less. Just let me go to bed, goddamnit.

My fucking hero Alex Fuchs, who runs the transport here, saw me walking up from the AWO grounds to the road, pulled over, and gave me a lift. That is the tip of the iceberg why the first three words of that sentence were “my fucking hero,” but with no signal to get an Uber and no other prospects than standing there and waiting for someone who might take a card from my cashless ass (tomorrow I will get cash somewhere), holy crap was I grateful. Thank you, Alex. Like, forever.

There are more pics after the jump and day three starts with doom yoga shortly. See you there.

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I slept a bit at the airport, I’m glad to say. I was in the international arrivals area, outside baggage claim, with my head on my luggage and the hoodie I brought as a pillow. Not what you’d call ideal, but better than the plane. I was off and on from about 8AM to noon, then up from then till 2PM, waiting with Tony Reed until Isaiah Mitchell came and said the rest of Seedy Jeezus had already gone to the Vortex Surfer club where they were going to rehearse as Tranquonauts for the first time ahead of their set on Saturday. So, time to go.

Unclear on the way as to whether or not I would make it for the start of the fest, with Sunnata, but I did. Stowed my luggage in back, no time to hit the hotel beforehand. Here’s how the day went from there:

Sunnata

I got to the AWO grounds where the fest is held with about 10 minutes to spare, so didn’t even grab a coffee before Poland’s Sunnata went on to kick the thing off. They’re kind of a darker sound for Freak Valley, meditative and post-metallic as they are, but the weather cooperated — it was raining; I’d bought a raincoat about an hour before going to the airport and had my luggage on hand, so was ready for it — and there was a really good early crowd, so between that and Sunnata’s dual-vocal interplay of loud/quiet trades and righteously heavy ritualizing, the early going had no lack of vibe. I downed a bottle of water that I’d soon refill and watched from the front for a bit before adjourning to the back by the swings, where kids were already playing. They’ve put out two records since the last time I saw them at Høstsabbat 2019 (review here), so while I had a clue of what to expect, they were still a surprise with more complex songs and fluid brooding passages, crying to and from the void to lead into the next explosion.

Child

Rockpalast started filming early, and with good reason. This was my first time seeing Child, and it was among the sets I’d most been looking forward to. I can’t think of many other bands who embody Freak Valley’s love of heavy blues than the Aussie power trio led by gold-mic vocalist/guitarist Matthias Northway. They have a new record out later this month called Rebirth that’s following on from 2023’s Soul Murder (review here), and that’s a thing to celebrate, so they did, but it’s a different kind of party in the pouring rain and quickly it occurred to me that the water falling from the sky and my too-nice-for-my-ass-anyhow camera probably didn’t mix, so I headed for shelter, but even undercover, the richness of Child’s fuzz, the soul in Northway’s vocals and the sleek, slow grooves of their riffs came through. They’re ’70s-rooted, jam-rooted and blues-rooted, and those balances were malleable across the set, but cohesive throughout; as clear a case of band-guides-crowd as you could hope to encounter. Not the last blues of the weekend by any means, but a display of obviously special chemistry. By the time they finished, the sky was turning blue again.

Brown Spirits

Two Australian acts in a row felt — and was — luxurious, especially as Brown Spirits picked up the mantle of jazzy heavy psych and space rock and ran with it straight into a cloud of ether. Rhythmic momentum built up to push forward melodic textures from the guitar and keys, and though there were some shades of Earthless in that gallop, the dimensionality of it and the feeling of improv beneath made them all the more immersive. People danced, people whistled as the band cosmic-shimmied out another post-airlock bassline, and if you caught the theremin sounds from the keyboard as part of the thing, so much the better. They didn’t come across as performative in their progressivism, but that was a factor just the same and I found myself wanting a(nother) coffee just to try to keep up. So I did that, merrily bobbing my way to the back to get some, and then the downpour started, so I figured maybe I’d hang out a minute rather than get soaked with so much night still to go. I was glad to have heard the bounce I did in Brown Spirits though, and for knowing basically nothing about them going in, I feel like getting an early-weekend-takeaway band is a pretty solid outcome.

Ratsalad

Three in a row? Freak Valley was clearly just showing off. Three non-headlining Australian bands back-to-back-to-back, as John Sterling might say, and on the first day of the thing, was remarkable, and it’s not like having bands from Oz is new here. Ratsalad had an energy distinct from Brown Spirits or Child, but if you were inclined, you could make a thread from one to the next based on more than geography. The torrent ended quickly — that cloud passed — but a steady rain continued, and I slammed one of the three pouches of almond butter I brought with me ahead of Ratsalad starting, and that was the right idea. Fortification. All my favorite foods are ingredients. Anyways, I took all of maybe-one photo, as conditions seemed to permit, but the rain lessened over the time they played and my understanding was that was the worst and perhaps last of it, but the band were hitting it from the start, and the heavy punk rock reminded of past Freak Valley editions without being overly derivative. The “can I get a fucking hell yeah?” was met with due uproar. People were ready to let loose, weather be damned, and Ratsalad allowed for just that, and didn’t miss a chance to engage the crowd along the way.

Stoned Jesus

I was dragging copious ass, namely my own, but it would be difficult not to appreciate a band who write such memorable songs as Stoned Jesus do, or maybe I just really dug the last record? Either way, they were a kick in the pants that I very much needed, and hearing them echo around the hillside made it feel all the more like I’d arrived at Freak Valley Festival, though that isn’t to take away from the day to that point. They had the Rockpalast feed going on the two side screens and the back one with colors changing out overlaid; it looked cool and it wasn’t raining anymore, so all the better. They played “Low” from last year’s Songs to Sun (review here) and guitarist/vocalist Igor Sydorenko teased the due-in-October follow-up, Songs to Moon, with a new song called “Under the Skin” that they apparently hadn’t played live before, Sydorenko sharing vocals with bassist Andrew Rodin, whose harsher screams added to the metal emerging in their sound. The US still hasn’t caught on to Stoned Jesus, but this was my second time seeing them and the professionalism of their delivery made them a standout. I will look forward to that record, not that I wasn’t anyhow. One of the cameras shooting popped up with a message on the screen behind them that said it had a low battery and it was time to change it, and I related so hard to it that I’ll say I was emotionally moved, but then they hit into “See You on the Road,” and brought me back to life again. Again. Of course they did “I’m the Mountain,” their signature piece. They knew it was coming, the crowd knew it was coming. It was inevitable and still glorious, and the ability to do that is what makes Stoned Jesus a great band. Everyone in the pit seemed to be having a good time, including when Igor jumped out and crowdsurfed.

Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs

When I saw the UK psychbangers at Bear Stone 2024 (review here), I said I’d never again abbreviate their name, but write it in full every time as a sign of respect. They were similarly inspiring in the headliner role for the first night at Freak Valley, taking immediate and absolute ownership of the stage. They didn’t have an easy act to follow — people were into Stoned Jesus for sure — but cosmic bombast is a house specialty for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, and the onslaught was not long in arriving. With tempo behind them, they’re all the more of a force sound-wise, but I also think they were just plain louder than everybody who played earlier, so that was a factor even in the slower parts. Bass to swallow planets, and a kick drum you could feel in your chest standing near the front; this is normative stuff for Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, but it’s not something I run into every day and they are their fair share of jawdropping, very much in the manner of something to see if you never have, or, frankly if you have as well. Destroy destroy destroy. Shake the plugs right out of your ears.

Coltaine

Mystique born of their sound as much as the rampant fog. Coltaine were among my most anticipated sets of the whole weekend, which In hope tells you I think they’re a band you should check out. Fitting that this was my first time seeing them and it’s Freak Valley, since this is where I found out about them in the first place. They’re less accessible than some bands who might be considered of their slow-churning post-metal ilk, but as far as I’m concerned that only makes them less predictable and better overall, and if you didn’t catch 2025’s Brandung (review here), the songs from it are worlds to lose yourself in. On the big stage, with the lights, the aforementioned fog, the huge sound, their dark scope felt like a bookend to the day with Sunnata way back in the rainy afternoon, but they are their own beast and they’re growing. I’m glad I could see them play Brandung material before their next record outdoes it, and I’m twice as grateful to have seen them in the context I did, after the day I’d had, that sense of intermittent cathartic release was fortifying. You know how some bands have potential and you know exactly for what the potential is, how it will manifest? I don’t have a clue where Coltaine’s against-genre-grain journey will take them, but I’m happy to be on board to find out. Call me a fan.

—

The cab driver told me no at first when I said the name of the hotel. I guess it wasn’t far enough? I don’t know. When my head dropped and I went “ah man,” he said, “fine, get in,” and took off with all good speed to drop my ass. Then I didn’t have cash and that was my next fuckup. I do my best, people. About 20 minutes later, I was asleep. On purpose.

First day was a lot, but a lot of awesome. Day two starts with yoga, thank goodness, unless you want to count sorting photos at breakfast, which was the right choice. More to come, and pics after the jump in the meantime. Thanks for reading.

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Freak Valley 2026 has been sold out for months at this point, but if you think that would prevent the Netphen, Germany-based execution of the heavy-hippie ideal from adding more badassery to its bill, well, you probably haven’t stopped to think about the reason it’s already been sold out for months. Did that make sense? I don’t know, but the point is Freak Valley looks friggin’ awesome, again, still, whatever. From Uncle Acid and Goat at the top of the bill on down, taking in the now-complete lineup gives some sense of the sonic scope of the thing, surely broadened by bringing in the likes of Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, Messa, Goat and Tranquonauts, and yeah. If you’re one of the few who managed to get tickets before they were gone, you don’t need me to tell you.

I’ve been lucky enough to attend Freak Valley four times now, and the atmosphere, the people, the music, the presentation, the location, the setup of merch and distractions, the sprinklers and little corners in the shade to cool off — it’s got everything you could want and more you woudn’t even think of like when they light the trees up at night and for just a moment it’s kind of like what the whole world could be if only it were entirely different than it is. A sanctuary of sound for weirdos, and an incredible time, to say the least.

From social media:

FREAK VALLEY FESTIVAL 2026 – 🔥FINAL ADDITIONS 🔥

The last bands to complete this year’s Freak Valley line-up – and what a way to finish things off.

@pigsx7
Hailing from the UK, they deliver massive riffs, raw energy and pure intensity. One of the most uncompromising heavy bands of the last decade – loud, hypnotic and impossible to ignore.

@seedyjeezus
Coming all the way from Australia, Seedy Jeezus bring raw, expansive psychedelic rock with a love for long jams. Trippy, loud and perfect for getting lost in the moment.

@margaritawitchcult
Straight out of the UK with dark, fuzz-drenched heavy rock and a fierce attitude. Fast, filthy and straight to the point – exactly how we like it.

@sunnataofficial
From Poland, Sunnata combine doom, psych and post-metal into a heavy, ritualistic and deeply atmospheric sound that pulls you in and doesn’t let go.

The Grant East
Originating from the Netherlands, they blend vintage rock vibes with soul, groove and swagger – classic at heart, modern in punch.

@sergeantthunderhoof
This UK-based heavy prog powerhouse brings huge grooves, epic melodies and raw emotion – powerful and tailor-made for an open-air stage.

@frenzee.band
Born in Australia and raised in Greece, Frenzee deliver pure high-energy punk rock. Fast, loud and explosive – no brakes, no compromises.

@fightsoslo
Coming from Norway, Fights deliver intense, emotional hardcore punk with melody and heart. Short, sharp and straight in your face.

ROCKBLOG. BLUESSPOT PRESENTS @trailoffical
Rooted in Darmstadt, Germany, Trail bring heavy psych and desert-soaked grooves – laid-back yet powerful, perfect for drifting away down the Valley.

That’s it.
We’re sold out.
See you in the Valley. 💚🌵

@rockfreaksrec
Artwork: @branca_studio

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

Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs, Death Hilarious (2025)

It hasn’t been that long since the last announcement from the 2026 Freak Valley Festival, which brought the likes of Messa, Child, Longdistancecalling, Howling Giant, Upupayāma and more to join Tranquonauts, Coltaine, Kylesa, Stoned Jesus and Uncle Acid, among others, from the first round. But the message here, clearly delivered, is that Goat stand on their own.

And that’s always kind of been the story for the Swedish cult-psych ritualists. So much the better for them to headline. Their Afrobeat-informed, lysergic, at times vividly funky grooves have always stood them out from the heavy underground enough to enjoy crossover appeal to arthouse indie and the arbiters of cool more broadly speaking, but it’s been well over a decade since their debut album, World Music, and Goat have never really stopped being awesome. Their latest release is a remix of their 2024 self-titled LP done in collaboration with producer The Human Language, and earlier this year they also had a split out with fellow Swedes and Freak Valley veterans, Graveyard.

No coincidence that Goat were added to the bill just as online tickets went on sale over this past weekend. I don’t know that the fest is sold out yet, but usually it’s not too long after the onsale that tickets are gone, and with Goat as added impetus, it’s hard to imagine that not being the case this year too.

From social media:

HEADLINER ANNOUNCEMENT @goatworldmusic live at @freakvalleyfestival 2026

After many, many years of trying… it finally happened:

GOAT will headline FREAK VALLEY FESTIVAL 2026!

The legendary Swedish collective, known for their mind-bending mix of psychedelic rock, tribal grooves & hypnotic rituals, are coming to Freak Valley for the very first time!

We’re beyond proud and still can’t believe it. This one’s truly special.

Online Tickets go on sale this Sunday, 02.11. at 17:00 cet at fvf.ticket.io — don’t sleep on it!

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

Goat, Goat (2024)

A lot of good news in the second lineup announcement from Freak Valley Festival. Beyond the always-significant presence of Messa, who I’m pretty sure will be making their first appearance at the fest (pardon me if I’m wrong on that), and the implication of European returns next summer for both Nashville’s Howling Giant and Australian blues rockers Child — who along with Brown Spirits here and the previously-announced Tranquonauts make it three Aussie/part-Aussie acts on the bill; if there’s a quota, I don’t know about it, so they may not be the last — it’s awesome to see Freak Valley dig deep and bring Italian psych conjurers Upupayāma to the proceedings, while Long Distance Calling highlight the meditative instrumental progressivism that’s long been a staple of the festival’s presentation. It’s a killer batch of names, is I guess the point I’m making, even before you get to Zerre or J-psych rockers Super Jet Kinoko.

I’ve been lucky enough to attend Freak Valley for the last four editions. If that luck holds and I get to be there for number five, there are a few here who’ll be among my most anticipated of the hopefully-sunny June weekend.

The following was posted on socials (hence the atsigns) like half an hour ago:

⚡️2nd Band Wave Announcement🫵🏼

Freaks, the next wave is here and it’s a heavy one! Get ready for a wild mix of doom, psych, and trash metal at Freak Valley Festival 2026!

@messa_band bring their dark, soulful take on doom metal, full of atmosphere and emotion!

@longdistancecalling will take you on a powerful instrumental journey through epic soundscapes and dynamic melodies.

@childtheband from Australia deliver pure heavy blues rock, raw, soulful, and full of fuzzy groove.

@howlinggiant blast off with their cosmic stoner rock — big riffs, big energy, and a lot of heart.

@zerre.thrash hit hard with raw noise and distortion, channeling pure intensity straight to the gut.

@upupayama create dreamy, folk-inspired psych sounds that feel like a trip through the Italian mountains.

@brownspirits bring hypnotic krautrock grooves and vintage tones straight out of Melbourne’s underground scene.

@super_jet_kinoko invite you to explore deep, colorful layers of Japanese psychedelic rock.

And don’t forget: tomorrow night at @vortex_surfer_musikclub, @gyasitheband & @iahbanda &@transonic.science will be playing live. At the show, you’ll also be able to buy up to two Freak Valley 2026 tickets per person!

Design: @branca_studio

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

Upupayāma, Mount Elephant (2024)

Howling Giant, “Beholder I: Downfall” official video

Child, Soul Murder (2023)

Hard not to get excited at the prospect of covering Freak Valley again next year. I’ve been four times now, and at the risk of honesty, I’ll tell you it’s beginning to feel a bit like a home away therefrom. A first lineup announcement for 2026 brings Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, Kylesa, Tranquonauts (that’s Seedy Jeezus with Tony Reed and Isaiah Mitchell), Stoned Jesus, Coltaine, Håndgemeng, The Neptune Power Federation, Ratsalad and BB Blackdog, and if that’s not enough to get you to mark your calendar, it probably should be. If nothing else, Freak Valley has become a regular quick-sellout, so if you’re hemming and hawing, probably best you don’t.

They’ve got local ticket sales starting this weekend and online sales to follow. I could sit here and recommend the experience (which I do, heartily), but if you want to check out the coverage of this year’s Freak Valley, that’s here as well. The following was posted on socials just a bit ago:

FREAK VALLEY FESTIVAL 2026 – FIRST BAND ANNOUNCEMENT!

It’s that time again, Freaks – the first wave of bands for @freakvalleyfestival 2026 is here, and it’s already looking massive!

Leading the charge:

@uncleacidband – the masters of vintage doom and twisted psychedelia are finally coming to Freak Valley! Expect pure darkness, fuzzed-out riffs, and that unmistakable cult vibe.

@kylesa_band – sludge, groove, and heavy energy straight from Savannah! Their return to the stage is something we’ve all been waiting for.

Tranqonauts – a true supergroup featuring @tony_reed2112 , @isaiahmitchellsounds (@earthlessrips ), and members of @seedyjeezus ! You know what that means: cosmic jams, heavy riffs, and deep space energy.

Also joining the Freak Valley family in 2026:
@stonedjesusband , @theneptunepowerfederation , @coltaine , @handgemeng , @we_are_ratsalad & BB Blackdog!

Get ready for another wild ride through the worlds of heavy psych, stoner, doom, and everything in between. 🤘

🎟️ TICKET INFO:

This Sunday at the @vortex_surfer_musikclub in Siegen, everyone attending the @fomiesband show can buy up to 2 Freak Valley 2026 tickets before the online sale starts! So if you’ve got a ticket for Sunday, you’ve got early access – no waiting, no stress. 🤝🏻

See you in the valley, Freaks!

Design: @branca_studio

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

Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, Live in San Francisco, CA, 02.21.25

Newark Airport, Terminal C, Gate 126. Waiting for the flight.

As I will, I got to the airport early. But even by my standards, exceptionally so. To wit, 4PM for an 8PM flight. I would call that early.

Freak Valley Festival 2025 is the destination, and while I’ll confess that I had my weeks all wrong for June and thought until last week that the return call to FVF was happening next week, at least I know that in the end I got here in plenty of time for the flight I’m supposed to be on. There are thunderstorms in the forecast. The sun’s out now, but I’ll be here long enough for the weather pattern to shift.

The reasons for getting here early were likewise complex and mundane. The Patient Mrs. had a meeting. The kid is in a hates-being-in-the-car mode, so this (somewhat) avoided us getting yelled at in the car on the way to drop me off. Today’s her first day of summer. She spent most of it building a rube goldberg machine, continuing her current interest in engineering. She watches James Bruton and Mark Rober on YouTube, and this week I made the unfortunate error of introducing her to Battlebots, which of course she’s on board with because it’s fighting robots shooting fire at each other and she’s seven and very much into that kind of thing.

I’m glad school’s over though. I don’t remember who, but I definitely told somebody at the school yesterday I felt like I’d just finished first grade, and her being done means I won’t miss her last days (her class had half-days till Friday; we made the last full day her last day yesterday) for being gone. Further to the interest of honesty, I’m heading to Freak Valley 2025 with redemption in mind. This is my fourth time traveling to Netphen, near the small city of Siegen, in North Rhine-Westphalia, if that helps. I have been every year since 2022, and the reason I’m calling it a comeback was the headspace I was in last year was so off. My mother had had knee surgery the day I flew out. I left from the hospital after they wheeled her to the back to go get on the plane. It was weird, and it felt not-great to be leaving my family at a time when maybe I might be able to help them out in some way after that surgery.

I had a great time at Freak Valley last year, and I have the coverage to prove it, but as in-the-moment as I might’ve been, I was also distracted, and again, off. I don’t have another word for it.

This year, I feel like I’m carrying less figurative baggage — to be sure, I brought like eight shirts and 75 chargers; I’m not short on the literal kind — and will accordingly be all the more able to be present while I can. Because the thing I know about Freak Valley after being there four times is that the moments I’m about to experience over the next four days are precious and fleeting, and my time in the Valley comes but once a year. The weather’s supposed to be killer the next few days, and I know when I get there I’ll see friends old and new and I’ll even finally get to catch Bill fronting Bushfire this year on the small stage on Saturday, and that’ll be my blowout. Tomorrow I’ll see My Sleeping Karma for the first time after 20 years of being a fan. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous for it. Goes like that sometimes.

So the whole mission — the only mission — is to enjoy myself this weekend, to find restoration in the music while I obliterate myself writing and taking pictures as much as I possibly can. I may or may not be the most uptight dude at Freak Valley, but everybody there is very kind and patient with me. I’ve been looking forward to getting back, and the plan is to take in as much as I can, to internalize all those mellow vibes that will be pervading the AWO grounds in the bright German sunshine that always seems to hold on just until the headliner goes on. Of course the writing is part of the experience for me, and I don’t know that I even could just stand there at this point and not start putting together sentences in my head — nor will I try to; I love the work even if I look like a jerk on my phone all the time — but it’s the whole experience I’m there for, from dousing my head with water in the AWO building to traipsing around the back walking path from one side of the field to the other for whatever reason. Freak Valley excels at having places for you to go and just be. I look forward to being in one of them.

But I probably shouldn’t get ahead of myself. First is boarding, which is still two hours off, and then the flight. But the process has started, and being at Freak Valley 2025 is that much more real in my mind for that.

Thanks in advance if you keep up reading at all over the next few days heading into the weekend. I have premieres slated tomorrow and Friday because, well, remember that part about having the wrong week? Well I wasn’t kidding. Those will happen as well as the fest coverage into and over the weekend. I forgot to bring a hat and may have to buy one as a result, but even so, my expectations are high. I did remember sunglasses. And, you know, underwear and toothpaste and all that stuff.