Live Review: Freak Valley Festival 2025 Night Three
Posted in Features, Reviews on June 22nd, 2025 by JJ Koczan
Before show
Slept as best I could and took a long shower, but stopped short of blowdrying my beard, which for some reason feels like apex self-indulgence. It was the last day of Freak Valley 2025, and that’s always bittersweet. This place and these people are so special, and I’ve made really good memories here the last four years that I’ve been lucky enough to take part in FVF. It is an honor, and I do not take it for granted.
Made it to the AWO grounds well in time for yoga. That was probably the most direct sunlight I was in on Friday (my days and dates are so screwed up), but the last day of Freak Valley was the solstice too, and for sure there would be sun. The kind of heat that kills old people. A father and his 12-year-old played frisbee on the grass. A small street sweeper went by on the back walking path. The drum riser came out on stage. Sitting in the no-smokers-yet smoking tent for the shade, it was idyllic.
The yoga session was once again fantastic — I even got to sneak in a little boat pose, and you know I’m on board for some shavasana — even without snaily taking part. It finished a couple minutes earlier than the day before, so I didn’t have to run over after hearing Volker Fröhmer’s standard band-intro beginning, a hearty and voluminous “liebe freunde” that is as much a staple of this festival as the word “freak.” I played for a minute in the sprinkler accordingly.
But soon enough, the concluding day of Freak Valley Festival was underway, and I seem to recall it went something like this:
Lurch
The straight-up riff rock aspect of Lurch’s sound took me back to turn-of-the-century European heavy rock, instrumental and otherwise. Thinking ’99-’03 or thereabouts, and all those bands who weren’t shy about having numbers in their monikers. Part of what they did was jam, or at least jam-based — at one point, the bassist threw in the theme from Super Mario Bros., which I’ve had steadily on repeat in my head for the last 40-ish years; if we’ve met and I’ve invariably forgotten your name, it’s because my brain is occupied with doo doo doo do-do doot on an endless loop; I’m not kidding, sometimes it’s torture, but it was cool in the mid-song context — but there was structure there even apart from the one or two songs that had vocals. From Austria, Lurch were unknown to me previously, but they’re playing Hoflärm as well in August and they’ve got a slew of releases that seem pretty dug in and exploratory — and by that I mean you might get a five-minute song or a 39-minute song, depending on the record. Some of that variety made its way into the set as well, and the lesson was quickly learned as they went, pushing into psych with grounded, terrestrial riffing at the forefront. Not the first time I’m writing a note to myself this weekend about a good band. I cannot begin to tell you the value that has for me, though I’ve been trying for a few years now, I guess.
Bushfire
Schedule change! Scott Hepple and the Sun Band were supposed to play second, and Bushfire were to do two mini-sets on the small stage later on, but there was van trouble, so the Darmstadters took the slot and, as frontman Bill Brown told the crowd, “once again Bushfire are the heroes of the universe.” They were playing their new album, Snakes Bites Tales, for its release, and the gritty riffing hit just right. I’m not going to feign impartiality on this one. I consider Bill not just a friend, but a good friend who I’ve known over a decade, and whenever in the day it was happening, I was excited to see his band for the first time. The burl of their records was in full effect, but came through with a fragility live, and as Bill told his tales from the stage between songs, whether it was about drinking and drugs, writing the lyrics on the backs of posters backstage 45 minutes earlier when they were informed of the switch, or it being the end of side A before they turned to “Die Trying” (they would do side B on the small stage later), the crowd filled in on the sun-beat grass and groove was had in abundance. No question dude is a presence on stage, but the two guitars stood up to the throaty vocals and the solos came through with due punch before the drums and bass turned out around back to the verse again. Bushfire have never been about reinventing the wheel of heavy rock, but they roll that wheel in a way that’s expressive and their own, and I didn’t even realize how much I needed that kick in the ass, so thanks. Don’t look for it tomorrow, but I’ll have a review of the album here sooner or later. Honestly, this was more about appreciating the chance to witness a friend kill it in the band’s native habitat, which I was fortunate to do.
Kombynat Robotron
I hit the spritzcannon hard before their set. Had to happen. You could see a rainbow in the spray. I wasn’t quite soaked, but it was worth putting my bag down and standing there for an earth-minute or two, though soon enough it was back at it for Kombynat Robotron. The ascendant heavy space/cosmic rockers are set to issue their new album, AANK, next month — more homework to put in my notes file; not complaining — and if they wanted to put this set out too, that’d be just fine by me. They got the combination of push and swing just right in terms of pace, where you could feel the physical urging of the music within the abiding nod, coming through in a wash of wah with miraculous clarity of intent for something that was so noisy and open-feeling. They had some bliss on offer as well, but once the forward momentum was locked in, so pretty much immediately, it held for the duration. I’d been too in my own head the day before. Getting lost in Kombynat Robotron for a while was refreshing in a different way than having droplets of water launched at my person, but refreshing just the same to stop measuring time in planetary terms. I’m not sure if I enjoyed more the raw moments in Kombynat Robotron — because for sure there are riffs in there — or the tonal wash into which they sometimes veered during the set, but fortunately, there’s zero need for me to choose between them. They were dead on, and I came away with a better understanding of how they work as a group. Total win of a bend for reality.
Highway Child
The heavy underground has a long memory, and though Denmark’s Highway Child broke up 14 years ago in 2011 after the release of their self-titled third album, the heavy underground also loves a redemption story, so Highway Child were here and are at a couple other spots this summer. It’s not the five-week comeback tour or anything, but though there’s been a generational turnover since, they would play to an audience who knew and appreciated their work. So far as I know, that’s is the ideal when you’re doing something like this. They put out two records on Elektrohasch, 2008’s On the Old Kings Road (review here, discussed here) and 2009’s Sanctuary Come (review here), right as the label was starting to hit its arguable peak, so yes, I remembered them too, though I’d never seen them before. Rooted in heavy blues, with a swagger that’s apparently been lying in wait for the better part of a decade and a half, they had folks dancing in the sun out front and were a party all on their own on stage as well. Not a band I ever thought I’d see, and not one I’d be likely to catch otherwise. Figures I’d get all emotional on the last day of the fest. Hard not to.
Travo
Let the party continue. From Portugal, Travo turned heads with late-2023’s Astromorph God (review here) and have been spreading the word live since. The KEXP session earlier this year probably helped in that regard too, feather in their collective cap as it was. Even the line check was brash, but that was nothing compared to once they got going. Leaning more into space rock — I’d say neospace, as I do sometimes, but it didn’t feel quite right, despite all the rampant modernity of the wash they set above the classic pulsations of the drums — they had a solid foundation of heavy tone on which to dance, and set themselves to doing exactly that. If you’ve been reading this site for a while, or even a day, you probably already know there’s little I enjoy more than agreeing with myself. Also disagreeing! But man, I was so right to be excited to see Travo. I may not have been able to hang in the sun, but I found a spot for the whole set after taking pictures and set up camp by which I mean put my bag down, for the duration and they hit hard, digging in with all-go energy and a succession of rad effects-topped builds, voice intermittently punching its way through all the shove surrounding. They made me want me coffee, dared to mellow a bit, and ended with the biggest big-rock-finish I’ve caught here so far.
Wucan
With a new album due in August titled Axioms — it’ll be the Dresden four-piece’s fifth LP — Wucan took the stage to herald the release with due veteranly confidence, and held off breaking out either the flute or the theremin (both firsts) until after the first song, which seems classy somehow. A strong thread of heavy ’10s boogie running through their songwriting, but like many who took that path, Wucan are less about vintageism than broadening a palette of classic, heavy and progressive rock. I’ll admit it’s been a while since I last heard them, but the vibe was sleek and the crowd ate it up as perhaps they inevitably would. The longest day of the year still had plenty of sunshine left in it, but the lawn was packed, somebody had an inflatable flying V, which was fun, and Wucan made sticking it out worthwhile, strut or shuffle or twist. The political complexities of stage outfits notwithstanding, Wucan were an unmitigated good time, with melodies and groove they reached out directly to the crowd and hooked people in. I was curious how much of what they played was new as they touched on space rock about halfway through the set, but this too was fair game for the expanded reach of their sound. I’ll be interested to hear where the album goes.
The Devil and the Almighty Blues
This was my third time seeing Norway’s The Devil and the Almighty Blues, after Høstsabbat in Oslo in 2019 (the before-time) and in 2017 at Roadburn in the Netherlands. In January, if all goes according to my evil plans, I’ll see them again at Planet Desert Rock Weekend in Las Vegas. Good thing they rule. The 2019 show was in support of what’s still their most recent record, Tre (review here), and to their credit, vocalist Arnt O. Andersen still came out fully robed like a misfit drunkard priest, even in the heat of the lingering day. Much respect for that, never mind that they opened with “Salt the Earth.” While I might’ve known what to expect going in, unlike with so many of the bands this weekend who’ve been new to me (life bonus to learn), that didn’t make the going any less satisfying. Their self-titled debut (review here) turns 10 this year, but they wear the years easily in the fluidity of their groove, the way they’re both reverent and transgressive of the (almighty) blues, as well as classic heavy rock and probably three or four other microgenres. I could go on about that characteristic nuance — might be fun — but was content to bask in the comedowns and the pickups and follow where they led. To bottom-line it for you, if you’re somewhere this band is, ever, you want to see them. It’s as simple as that, and I’m grateful for the chances I’ve had (and will have) to do so. They capped with a crescendo of dually shredding guitar solos from Peter Svee and Torgeir Waldemar Engen, then still turned it back to the verse to get a couple last lines in. See them.
Scott Hepple and the Sun Band
Their name started appearing in fest announcements last Fall, and not that I’ve heard of every band who plays a given festival — obviously; seeing new bands was the thing all weekend — but there was definitely a curiosity there. They put out two self-released LPs before getting picked up by Rise Above/Popclaw, and if there’s ever been an ear you could trust, it’s Lee Dorrian’s. They’re young, steeped in garage rock and some sweet proto-heavy shuffle. Thick enough in tone to call heavy, but fleet in being able to keep things moving. The fact that the van has broken down, delaying their arrival here and relocating their set from the main stage to the smaller one earned them some sympathy points, but the truth is they didn’t need them. They pulled the crowd over from the (other) lawn and packed the small stage area where I’ve been hiding in the shade the whole day. I’m sure they sold some records after the set, and hopefully they can keep momentum on their side.
Dead Meadow
When you absolutely need to mellow the vibe, accept no substitutes. Dead Meadow, also fresh off releasing Voyager to Voyager (review here) this Spring on Heavy Psych Sounds, lost bassist Steve Kille to cancer last year. With founding principle Jason Simon on guitar/vocals and I’m pretty sure Mark Laughlin on drums, they did indeed have bass, but I don’t know who was providing it. The sound was there though, that warmth of bottom end that puts your brain in a bathtub. And Simon’s strum, fuzz, quiet-voiced delivery were as immersive as one would hope, so although Kille contributed to the new record, and regularly recorded the band as well, they sound like they’ll continue, which I take as good news. There’s still more day to go, but the chill was infectious, even at their most active. They’re not the inventors of heavygaze, but they might as well be, and frankly, the world needs the kind of drift they bring. So much of this era is intensity, furious, raging. Algorithms. Fascism. Dead Meadow fit just right by going the other way completely, and with Lance Gordon of Mad Alchemy’s oil lightshow, the psychedelia in their sound came through as a multi-sensory experience. They’re still a thrill to watch live, but it’s a quiet thrill. I was quietly thrilled accordingly.
Bushfire
Look, I already reviewed Bushfire once, but having seen and heard half the new record earlier in the day, I wasn’t about to miss the other half, not the least as it includes “Valley of the Freak,” which is about this fest and the people here. Bushfire played the first however-many years of Freak Valley, were a staple of those lineups, but kind of stepped back. Having them present their new full-length, even in two halves, felt fitting. They had a screen in front of the stage before they went on with an animated ouroboros, but took the screen away before they actually started. The projection stayed on and the effect worked. I assume some of those standing by me over by the craftbierhaus and the stage had seen Bushfire before, but I hadn’t until today.
The Sword
I could not tell you when the last time I saw The Sword was, but the prevailing memory I have of them live is wandering into a Relapse Records showcase at SXSW in their hometown of Austin, Texas, and watching a demo riff band lay waste to a show that I’m pretty sure featured Cephalic Carnage later on, but don’t quote me on that, because I was drunk and the only thing I remember for sure was The Sword throwing down a gauntlet for what was then the next generation of heavy rock. The ensuing 21 years and a breakup later (hooray for me, being old), The Sword have returned and claimed their place once again among headlining acts. Their evolution can be charted across their records, but on stage it was more about them being back, good times, and so on. Again, I didn’t stick around (I fly out early tomorrow afternoon and it’s two hours to Frankfurt airport), but I got to hear “Freya,” and that’s always a blast, and I put on the Rockpalast stream when I got back to the room to watch the end, and zero regrets. They seemed to be picking up where they left off, maybe a little more into it for the time away — to wit, they didn’t sound like they were about to break up — and definitely appreciative of the crowd. The Sword are among the most revered US heavy rock bands of the last 25 years, easily, and it’s a boon to the genre that they’re back at it.
—
I can’t believe how fucking ridiculously fortunate I am. It is beyond silly. Like I said once already, or like 10 times, I don’t know, it was an early flight in the morning, so I crashed out as quick as I could in order to be up at seven to shower, finish packing, etc. I may or may not have time for a full wrap-up post, but if I end up saying thanks to Jens, Alex, Marcus, Jara, Basti, Volker, Pete, Bill, Judith, Ralf, and all in the backstage for making me feel so welcome.
It’s a long year till FVF 2026 and one never knows what the future will bring, but if you take anything away from the glut of words that have shown up in this space over the previous three days, take that Freak Valley is something very, very special, and it’s not at all a coincidence that it sells out every year as soon as tickets go on sale. And it’s the people that make it. I’m pretty sure Bill said that in “Valley of the Freak.”
So, if I do or don’t have time for a proper epilogue, we’ll see, but as always, thank you to my wife, The Patient Mrs., for making this and everything else possible for me. Thank you to my mother, and to my sister, as always, for their unending, unconditional support.
And thank you for reading. Won’t be the last time this week I say it.
More pics after the jump.
