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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This is some of the biggest news of my year, right here, and precisely some of what I’ve been hoping for since the advent of Desertfest New York in 2019. The NYC branch of Europe’s foremost heavy festival brand is slates do the seemingly impossible this Fall and bring German heavy psychedelic rock progenitors Colour Haze to the States for the second time as well as Greek heavy rock forerunners 1000mods, overcoming the pandemic-interrupted growth after a successful 2022 edition to realize a genuinely world-class event already just with the first reveal. And that’s before you get to the badassery of Lo-Pan, Heavy Temple, bringing Duel back, Boris, and so on.

I mean that. This puts Desertfest New York on a level of scope and reach with Psycho Las Vegas, Monolith on the Mesa or Fire in the Mountains or whoever else you want to namedrop, while maintaining club-show roots in its pre-party and secondary stages. I also wouldn’t surprised if a third stage isn’t added to the fest proper, as Knockdown Center certainly has that space available.

Either way, this is a big fucking deal and I’m excited at the prospect of what’s still to come. Will Steak return? My Sleeping Karma? Perhaps even a Green Lung US debut? The doors are thrown wide here as Desertfest New York 2023 takes it to that next level. The possibilities are that much closer to endless.

From the PR wire:

Desertfest New York returns for 3rd edition this September announcing
Melvins, Boris, Colour Haze, Truckfighters & more

TICKETS ON SALE NOW VIA WWW.DESERTFESTNEWYORK.COM

Leading independent stoner rock, doom, psych & heavy rock festival Desertfest returns to
New York this September. Hot off the heels of their largest US event to date in May ‘22, the
globally renowned festival will return to the unique space of the Knockdown Center in
Queens, alongside an exclusive pre-party at heavy metal institution, Saint Vitus Bar from 14th to 16th September 2023.

Headlining the 3rd edition of the festival will be genre-defining trailblazers the MELVINS.
With King Buzzo & Dale Crover at the helm ensuring their 40-year status as icons of the
underground, Desertfest attendees can expect a MELVINS performance unlike any other, as
they are treated to the bands’ expansive & iconic back catalogue.

Joining them on the Knockdown Center main-stage, with a rare New York performance, will
be Japan’s own BORIS. An exercise in auditory marksmanship for any whom are lucky
enough to bear witness, BORIS continue to redefine heavy on their own terms.

German psychedelic trio COLOUR HAZE will join the festival for a US exclusive,
headlining Thursday’s pre-party at Saint Vitus Bar. A band who move beyond a space of
labels, their continued evolution propels them out of any current galaxy recognised as ‘stoner
rock’. Thursday night will also welcome the infectiously groovy sounds of LO-PAN &
Texan goodtimers DUEL to help warm up the gears.

Long-time friends in the Desertfest-sphere, high-octane Swedish rockers
TRUCKFIGHTERS join proceedings for their first New York performance in three years.

Greece’s stoner rock heroes 1000MODS also make the jump overseas, ready to bring their
ear-worm worthy riffs to revellers. Local legends WHITE HILLS, raucous street doom
reapers R.I.P & ‘heavy primal psych’ outfit ECSTASTIC VISION all join the bill.

Elsewhere Desertfest NYC also welcomes HEAVY TEMPLE, CLOUDS TASTE SATANIC, MICK’S JAGUAR, CASTLE RAT, GRAVE BATHERS & SPELLBOOK, with more still to be announced…

3-day passes (incl. access to Saint Vitus Pre-Party) & 2-day passes (Knockdown Center
only) are on sale NOW via the following link – https://link.dice.fm/Desertfest_NewYork

Day Tickets will be released in April. There are no individual Day Tickets for Thursday’s
Pre-Party.

Full Line-Up
Saint Vitus – Sept 14th | Knockdown Center Sept 15th & 16th 2023
Melvins | Boris | Colour Haze | Truckfighters | 1000Mods | White Hills | Lo-Pan | Duel |
R.I.P | Ecstatic Vision | Heavy Temple | Clouds Taste Satanic | Mick’s Jaguar | Castle
Rat | Grave Bathers | Spellbook

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

Colour Haze, Sacred (2022)

It was raining last night when I left the Knockdown Center. Pouring, actually. I had parked in the venue’s lot, which I may or may not be allowed to do, but no one said no, so there it is. Two cars were parked in tight formation behind me and on either side.

Got that picture? Looking at it from above, you had two cards that were like the top of a Y, but straight, and I was the bottom. I walked out behind two dudes and asked them for the massive favor of guiding me out of that spot, which they did, in the rain. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Completely above and beyond. They stood there in the rain and made sure I got out without hitting either of the other cars. If it was you, and you’re reading this, get in touch, because I can’t even tell you how much that meant to me. Nothing says community more than shit like that.

Slept an extra hour or so this morning, though my body still thinks 6:30 is sleeping in even though it was nearly 2AM by the time I went to bed. Coffee, shower, shave the nascent neckbeard, water, protein bar, try to feel human. As refreshing as it’s been to live music for a couple full days, I don’t feel out of line saying I’m exhausted and will appreciate the earlier finish tonight. I finished the macadamia butter yesterday, but ground up a bunch of hazelnuts and brought that in some tupperware for the car, had a few bites on the way in. Life-giving. No salt, no nothing. Just dry roasted nuts, smoother than not — enough to bring out the oil — but still with a bit of natural texture. Beautiful.

It’s summer today. Sun’s out, it’s hot, and I’m sitting outside at the Knockdown Center by the food trucks, kind of half in the shade. I managed yesterday to hydrate really well. Today that will be even more important. I woke up this morning with a sorer throat than I expected, gave myself two covid home tests, both decidedly negative. Nice to know for sure.

Doors in about 20 minutes, first band an hour after that.

Greenbeard

This might be the perfect weather for a Greenbeard show. Sun’s out, it’s warm and humid enough to sweat but not totally overbearing, and up from Austin, the four-piece were an immediate rager. Their new record has a good mix of melodic and harder-driving stuff, riff-led but branching out in the way of desert-style heavy and soul, and they brought some of that to what was a pretty quick set, but along the way had time to list “some of their favorite things” in “Don’t Get Too Desperate,” including queso in a list that would do “Feel Good Hit of the Summer” proud. The party vibe was immediate, really even before they went on, but when they hit it, there was no warmup, no give-it-a-minute-and-see-where-it-goes. Greenbeard play heavy rock and roll like it’s this crazy new thing they just made up and you need to hear it right now. And it felt good to recognize songs from their new album, Variant, even if they were considerably rawer live.

—

Left Lane Cruiser

Other than a few basic factoids like they’re signed to Alive Records and they’re from Indiana and having seen their name around a bunch, I knew very little going into Left Lane Cruiser’s set. I expected bluesy, given the chair on stage and the low drums. Washboard, slide guitar, dude rambling between songs most unintelligible. So yes, bluesy, in a hard-boogie kind of way. Fiery energy, light on frills but with a marked lean into cultural appropriation. Maybe just not my thing, but I felt like guitarist/vocalist Fredrick “Joe” Evans IV laid on the Bayou banter a little thick. Wabba dabba baggle clabby. They hit it though, and I’ll give respect to both the energy and the washboard, which was soon enough used to crash through cymbals on the drum kit. It was what it was, and maybe I’ve got race on my mind because of that terrorist shooting in Buffalo, but for as much as they burned, I was left kind of cold. It’s a packed weekend. They aren’t all going to resonate.

—

Mother Iron Horse

These guys jumped from Electric Valley Records to Ripple Music for last year’s ‘Under the Blood Moon,’ and very much compatriot to Leather Lung in my mind perhaps because I saw the two together in 2019 at the much-missed Ode to Doom in Manhattan. Maybe they’re friends. Maybe they hang out on weekends, I don’t know. Even their soundcheck drew people in though, and that crowd did not dissipate when the actual set started. The band plays both kind of music, sludge and rock, and they’re unrepentant in their aggression. They made it easy though to get down with that in the side room, which grew more and more crowded as the set went on, until, finally, the heat reminded me that I very much needed to refill my water bottle. They introduced themselves though by saying, “We’re Mother Iron Horse and a woman’s body is her own fucking business.” Both true, even if the latter was less immediately relevant to the set. I have to think Samuel Alito probably wouldn’t get it had he shown up for Desertfest, but fuck him anyway. Good to know where Mother Iron Horse stand though, and more heavy bands need to be unafraid to say shit like that.

—

Big Business

On the other hand, Big Business started their set by asking who was ready for a pizza party. Duh, everyone. A very West Coast foreshadow of Red Fang to come. I couldn’t tell you the last time I saw Big Business live, but it was probably a Melvins show, if that gives you a general idea. Jared and Coady — which I call them because they’re buds; we talk sometimes, and no that is not at all true — have their thing, and they’re veterans, and they played like it. I was dragging ass, admittedly, but I don’t think I’ve heard Big Business in the last decade and not felt like I need to listen to them more. Today is no different, and thinking of bands who came up around the same time in the early to mid ’00s, they’ve held up better than many and remained true to their ethic. You got an awesome bassist and an awesome drummer and if the central thesis is that’s all you need, well, there are probably a few two-guitar acts in this lineup who’d argue, but I wouldn’t, especially not after watching them play. Good band. Maybe a bit taken for granted, but they’ve only busted their ass for the last 20 years.

—

Stinking Lizaveta

The band I was most looking forward to today. Knew what I was getting, have seen them on multiple prior occasions, and was still astonished. They played as a four-piece with Paul Webb on second guitar, which let Yanni Papadopoulos shred and bounce and move wherever the very precise plan that’s in a language no one else quite understands called for him to go. They’re instrumental, but he, bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta all got on mic at some point between songs. Beyond that, the only vocals were through Yanni’s pickups and various woops and shouts while they played, and they were unreal. Radiating joy all the while, they proceeded to shred common concepts like what’s a song and which way is up and who’s rock and roll anyhow like they were so much fog from the smoke machine, each of them a genuine hero on their instrument and so tight together and so dynamic that each change brought new wonders. The word is unfuckwithable, and that is what they are. Not a single second was misspent, and they were so fucking good and their energy was so infectious that by the time they were done I wasn’t even tired anymore.

—

Dead Meadow

Feels wrong to think of Dead Meadow as the kings of mellow psych, if only because I doubt mellow psych is a monarchy. Whatever system of government the genre might be and whether you tag them as shoegaze or heavy psych or drift psych or anything else that might apply to a given languid measure, they’re masters of it. They eased their way into the proceedings with a jam and had some sound issues — bass cut out early, was fixed quickly — but they got into it with their trademark style, a kind of fascinated serenity set to groove. It’s still daylight, which feels weird somehow, and the weather remains gorgeous, but the crowd filed in once they got going and it was dead quiet in between the songs (after the applause, etc.) as those in front of the stage eagerly awaited the next dose of sweet fuzz that would emanate from it. Another act who’ve stood time’s test by understanding who they are and what they want to do in stage and in their songwriting. Mostly they want you to chill the hell out. And to aid in that cause, Dead Meadow are totally willing to close with “Sleepy Silver Door,” which is only right and proper. A band you always expect to be kind of a wreck based on how they sound but who are sneaky reliable. And oh, that jam…

—

High Reeper

If the phrase “fucking a” was a band, it’d be High Reeper. My first time seeing them live, and they were nastier than on their records but that’s certainly not a problem at this point in the weekend. A good kick in the ass is certainly justified. Crazy one two three to this part of the day, with Stinking Lizaveta, Dead Meadow and High Reeper, who play heavy rock but have a metal middle finger in the air just the same. Hot and humid in that room even with the door open and that suited High Reeper well, as one of my earplugs came partway out and the result was immediately painful. They’re of a whole cohort on Heavy Psych Sounds — see also: Duel, maybe Hippie Death Cult who signed around the same time — and you can hear their point of view taking shape in their sound. That is to say, it has taken shape and while “refine” isn’t the right word for something so brazen, after seeing them I’m left with no doubt they’ll continue to push themselves deeper into the emergent definition of their approach. If Greenbeard were the party — and they were — then High Reeper were the fight that breaks out after everyone is smashed.

—

Red Fang

Two and a half pandemic years later, you can still set your watch by Red Fang’s ability to kick ass. They launched their set with a barrage from across multiple albums and even when they “settled” into it they were explosive. Like Torche, High on Fire still to come, like Big Business earlier, this is an established act, professional, and they put on a professional show. They played “Number Thirteen,” which even with “Wires” and the requisite closer “Prehistoric Dog” would’ve been enough for me on its own, and the place went off. Of course it did. Not at all a surprise, but a definite reaffirmation of their place, which has always been on a stage. I don’t mind telling you that on an existential level, I am very much feeling the early finish tonight, but even so, having Red Fang on right before High on Fire on the main stage makes sense in a way the world hasn’t made sense in what feels like even longer than it actually has been. They’re a band that indoctrinated people into this sound in the first place, and as veterans, they reminded me at least of what a force they can be at their best.

—

Telekinetic Yeti

Oh my. You like tone? Telekinetic Yeti has some tone, and I’m fairly certain it was coming through three Orange full stacks. Statistically significant weight in those riffs. Obviously that’s the idea, and the Midwestern duo, who had an ugly split after their first record that seems to have abated with the addition of a new drummer, play it chunky style. They’re signed to Tee Pee, so there’s a New York connection, and they brought flood lights to counter the encroaching night. I’ve heard a lot of heavy shit this weekend — a lot — but beyond Torche’s bomb string, I’m not sure there’s much to stand up to Telekinetic Yeti in terms of sheer heft. Gonna need a forklift for those riffs, bro. New album in July will be one to dig into. If they managed to capture half of what they used to fill that side room for their headlining spot, it’ll be the kind of thing that’ll blow your speakers. “Stoned & Feathered,” man. Frickin’ “Abominable.” Goodness.

—

High on Fire

There is likely no hyperbole left that has not been said at some point in their more-than-20-year career. They are a juggernaut, they are marauders, they are both the unstoppable force and the immovable object. They are the single axe swing that takes your head off clean, first time. Speaking of first time, I’d yet to see them with Coady Willis on drums. I was always a Des Kensel fan. Dude had a style of play that was all his own. Willis, though, is a fucking monster. He not only handles the older parts but owns them, makes them his own, and executes the material with a vitality that pushes into aerobics. He and Jeff Matz as a rhythm section are well matched and crushing in kind. And what of Matt “For President” Pike? He is the master of ceremonies at the Red Wedding. High on Fire were so intense they were in a league completely of their own. Genre doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Their volume was consuming — loudest of the day, I think, which may be by design — and their ferocity unmatched. As extreme as Desertfest got with some of the more death metal-style stuff, I feel like High on Fire added extra blast to their attack tonight and it was every bit as glorious as one could hope. The perfect ending in that nothing could hope to follow it.

—

Other Random Observations:

– Good music makes life better. Great music makes life great.

– The Yankees have been away all weekend and I suspect that’s made the drives in from NJ easier. Fortunate.

– Lunar eclipse tonight. Feels about right.

– I think I might end everything I ever write about Dead Meadow from here on out with an ellipses.

– Counted no fewer than four Obelisk shirts today, including one on Yanni from Stinking Lizaveta, which was truly humbling. Sleeveless, no less.

– Thanks for reading.

I did get to watch some of that eclipse on my way home. Imagine that for a second. Incredible. More pics after the jump.

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New York City’s In This House of Mourning today self-release their debut album, Penance. The record’s arrival — digital first — comes just a short couple weeks after the record was announced and the first song premiered, so yes, it is very much a DIY, this-is-a-thing-and-here-it-is kind of affair. If there’s to be hype, it will come after the fact, and though Penance is short at just 21 minutes and will probably be regarded as an EP when In This House of Mourning‘s spearhead and former member of atmosludgers Mountain God, Ben Ianuzzi (guitar, bass, synth and so on) moves on toward an inevitable next release, its impact is still noteworthy for the grim ambience it creates as well as its willingness to wholly engage the stench of NY-style death metal.

To wit, the chug that emerges in the second half of opening track “The Path Worn Down,” also the aforementioned lead single. At 9:53, it’s the longest of the three inclusions (immediate points), and with grunts and growls over slow-motion, high-density distortion, the vibe is pure death-doom. But that chug, which returns again at the end met by squiggly guitar sounds overlaid, feels like a dogwhistle to those who know from whence that rawness springs. It’s a long regional history of death metal that has refused frills or, for the most part, the prog bent that has consumed much of extreme metal’s fare over the course of the current generation of acts. Ianuzzi, with that simple chug, calls out that influence even as In This House of Mourning‘s sound grows more expansive, pulling from doomed tempos and an insular darkness that goes beyond simply playing slow.

Keyboards and various synth bring depth to the procession and are by and large responsible for the melodies, as the three-minute “Judgement” confirms in its quiet stretch of grieving. This in turn gives way to the crashing introduction of “Cruel Death,” which moves further along all lines, more fluidly shifting between the various sides, from its initial heft and keyboard-inclusive crawl to the subdued guitar that patiently leads to reinvigorated lurch before, just after four minutes in, the vocals grow somehow harsher and the pace kicks up for a time, laying a claim early in the project’s tenure to bursts of pure death that may or may not be fleshed out on subsequent outings. Before the song is done, Ianuzzi brings it back around to the melodic keys and the grueling dirge nod, but having gone there invariably casts an effect on the mood with which “Cruel Death” closes Penance, and most importantly, that seems to be a purposeful choice.

Where Penance might lead, or when, it beats me, but for In This House of Mourning, it’s clear this first offering is an exploration of sound and style on the part of Ianuzzi and a few select initials-only compatriots, and the results are morose in a way that brings to mind classic ’90s death-doom while still ready to gnash its teeth on something more distinctly brutal. For Ianuzzi, who was kind enough to give some words to the motivations behind the songs, the difference seems to be one of introspection.

Below, you can stream the premiere of Penance by In This House of Mourning in its entirety, and read more from Ianuzzi, find the order link, and all that good stuff. It’s down there in the blue. You know how this goes.

Enjoy:

Ben Ianuzzi on Penance:

I guess I’ll say this. Given the order of the songs- PWD, J, CD — it’ll be obvious in the lyrics that its kind of an attack on the kinds of people that say lovely things about someone once they die. How people sort of glorify people at the end, as if it’s somehow honorable. Death is cruel, and sometimes people live out their miserable lives and are just as miserable at the end.

They may pretend that they aren’t — and others say kind words about them to make it seem like the end was peaceful — but a lot of that is just to make the survivors feel better.

And while I wrote the music before (which I more or less played every instrument on, and wrote the lyrics) I wrote the lyrics, everything just fit. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I didn’t write about such a morose topic because I wrote funeral doom songs — it was very genuine.

Whereas Mountain God was very impersonal, and was very outward in its anger, this band is much more personal. It’s much more inward-facing.

So while everything I said in the press release was true, deeper below the surface, these songs are pretty much my innermost feelings. Less driven by exterior issues and more personal thoughts.

Order: https://inthishouseofmourning.bandcamp.com/releases

Recorded by Aady Pandit
The Underground Lair
Queens, NY, 2021

Music, arrangements, and lyrics by B.I.

Musicians:
B.I.- guitars, bass, synths/organs
V.C- guitar
G.D- drums
J.A- vocals
A.P- synths, production

In This House of Mourning on Facebook

In This House of Mourning on Instagram

In This House of Mourning on Bandcamp

In This House of Mourning on Soundcloud

There’s so much death-doom out there right now, it can be hard to remember how completely oppressive the sound can be when intentionally pushed in that direction. On that happy note, big welcome to In This House of Mourning — also stylized all-lowercase: in this house of mourning — who will mark their first release with the three-song offering Penance on Feb. 28. I’m not sure if you’d call it an EP or an LP, but I’m more certain that it doesn’t matter nearly as much as the grueling affect of opening cut “The Path Worn Down,” which you can hear premiering below.

Some out there might recall Ben Ianuzzi‘s work in the plenty-o’-noise sludgemakers Mountain God. If not, uh, they were killer, you should see if you can track it down. Anyhow, In This House of Mourning is Ianuzzi‘s new vehicle for plunging into aural melancholia/miseries, and you’ll find that the comparisons tossed out with the early-’90s Peacevilleian vibe isn’t misplaced. Also nice to see Evoken get a little love, always.

You’ll find more on the themes and ideas behind Penance in the background info under the player below, from which you can immerse yourself in “The Path Worn Down.” Take a deep breath before you go.

And please enjoy:

In This House of Mourning – Penance

New York based extreme metal band, in this house of mourning, is proud to announce its debut release, penance, recorded with engineer Aady Pandit at the Underground Lair in Queens, NY.

The brainchild of Ben Ianuzzi, formerly of doom/sludge act Mountain God, “in this house of mourning” is a band devoted to the polar fringes of metal, embracing a dynamic of paying homage to the early 90’s, and pushing the envelope of what heavy music can be within the modern scene. Over the course of 24 intense minutes, songs “The Path Worn Down”, “Judgement”, and album closer, “Cruel Death”, foster an atmosphere that will draw listeners in, pummeling them with downtuned, full sounding chord progressions, short, intense moments of furious riffing, and ambiance provided by synths, organs, and melodic guitars. Listeners will recognize that penance is rooted in a foundation of funeral doom, death/doom, and even shoegaze. Artists such as My Dying Bride, Paradise Lost, Celtic Frost, Shape of Despair, Evoken, and My Bloody Valentine, served as influences and an inspiration for the band. That said, “in this house of mourning” is unique in its own right, pushing the boundaries of extreme music through textural layering and dynamic playing.

In an artistic sense, penance is focused on the hidden pain and suffering we deal with day in, and day out. So many fears and terrors have been exposed over the last few decades that it is hard to keep up with the trauma. Collectively, we have inherited a world in which political and cultural forces regularly tear at the fabric of what it means to be a united people. We’re weighed down and suffocated by the dirge of social media, and as a means of coping, people often, and willingly, expose an unreal version of themselves for all the world to see. For better or worse, people have learned to hide who they really are deep within the confines of our digital universe. penance is a reaction to this reality, and is meant to be a cathartic experience, with each listener provided the opportunity to release, let go, and immerse themselves in heaviness. Each track cuts directly to the point, unapologetically being as direct and confrontational as possible.

With future releases already in the works, “in this house of mourning” will continue to explore the different elements of heavy music, complete with undefined boundaries and a willingness to travel to wherever the music decides to go. There are no expectations beyond putting out music that is individualistic and a genuine representation of the band in that moment. Be on the lookout for news regarding the band!

Track Listing:
1) The Path Worn Down
2) Judgement
3) Cruel Death

Recorded by Aady Pandit
The Underground Lair
Queens, NY, 2021

Music, arrangements, and lyrics by B.I.

Musicians:
B.I.- guitars, bass, synths/organs
V.C- guitar
G.D- drums
J.A- vocals
A.P- synths, production

https://www.facebook.com/In-this-house-of-mourning-113629311239039
https://www.instagram.com/inthishouseofmourning/
https://soundcloud.com/ben-ianuzzi