Notes From Freak Valley 2023 – Day 3
Posted in Features, Reviews on June 11th, 2023 by JJ Koczan
Freak Valley Festival 2023 – Day 3
Sat. – 12:34PM – Same tent as yesterday
Feeling moderately asskicked when I woke up, I headed to the hotel breakfast quickly to grab coffee. They had scrambled eggs and I didn’t have any, which was the wrong choice. My stomach was a little iffy. So maybe pounding seven espressos out of the machine wasn’t a hot idea either. I’d call these rookie mistakes, but I’m no rookie. Just a dumbass who can’t handle basic nourishment when left to his own devices.
Some light nausea and a not-nap later, it was back to the festival grounds for me. Today is supposed to be hotter than yesterday, so I’ll keep to my routine of refilling the water bottle at least once per band. I am a firm believer in the power of hydration, which is good because I think that’s what’s going to get me through the day. You can’t always count on stumbling into a yoga class at just the right time, sadly.
Before I go up to take pics of the start of the 10-act final day here, I would like to reiterate my thanks to Freak Valley for having me back. The vibe here is intimate and friendly and there are still however many thousand people, so that’s saying something. I am honored to be here, to have been here, to have met people and made friends here and seen and heard things I never knew I would. If you told me 15 years ago that I’d be living this life, even on intermittent weekends spread throughout the year, I’d probably have been like, “Wow that sounds exhausting, sure hope I don’t blow out a knee or some shit,” but underneath I’d be flabbergasted. I remain so, loving it.
My phone autocorrected “living” at the end of that last sentence. I’m leaving it as is. Some mistakes are on purpose.
Thank you again. Here we go. Day three of three:
Reverend Beat-Man
Before the show actually started, the good Reverend was to be found one-man parading around the merch/food area with a mini amp and bullhorn, hand-delivering scummer blues as he went. I didn’t even have the battery in my camera yet, so the above pic is from my phone. I don’t know what car battery he was huffing before going onstage, but I’d gladly take a hit off it. Dude was full-on, exclusively, there on his own doing weirdo blower blues, put his clergy collar on during his purposefully laughably long intro. Distorted vocals, some looped cello for good measure, a real performance piece, complete with sleaze, “Jesus Christ Twist,” boogie like he was born to do it, merch sold on the honor system, and a fest-day’s worth of shenanigans packed into a set that had the early crowd shouting for one more song when it was over. A hoot in the grand tradition of hoots.
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Ritual King
Proper English heavy rock. You can hear aspects of original-era desert riffing, some Truckfighters as well in that rolling bass, but Ritual King’s 2020 self-titled debut (review here), issued through Ripple, had more progressive stretches too and that came through a bit in the shuffle jam amidst all the roll and richness of fuzz, the bass holding down the groove while the guitar trips out ever so slightly. It was almost like you could hear them growing as they played, and their first record was already a call to the converted. I’ll not go around making predictions, but they were tight, seemed to be just the right amount of not-sober to represent the UK ahead of Orange Goblin later, and made it clear that the next generation of heavy knows from whence it comes and is ready to make its own statement in the genre. That’s the hope, anyhow. They could break up tomorrow, you never know. If that happened, I’d be glad to have seen them today. Second record later this year. Don’t tell anybody. It’s a secret.
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Food: With about 10 minutes before Gaupa went on, I very quickly inhaled the meat out of a sans-rice goulash, leaving most of the sauce, veggies, etc. Burned tongue for the effort. My self-imposed dietary restrictions at this point are laughable — I brought three (small, plastic) jars of almond butter with me, left the one I wanted to bring at the hotel, hence the improv. What my feelings on this matter tell me is I’m channeling other shit into disordered eating because it’s a way to exert control over some aspect of my life. Take care of your brain, kids.
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Gaupa
Burner. If I hadn’t seen them in December in their native Sweden, I’d likely be blown away both by the band’s performance and the response from the crowd, but while I knew what to expect, Gaupa still set a high standard on the stage. Hair flying all over the place, and vocalist Emma Näslund’s sort of hard-hippie dance moves putting emphasis on the band’s psychedelic side even as the actual tones are doomly thick and their riffs are high-class Euro stoner. They’re on their way, and the only question is how far they’ll push it. And they’re young, which is crucial. Last year’s Myriad (review here) featured heavily and it was immediately apparent that those assembled were familiar. They were an early pull for the crowd — all of a sudden, the grass was packed — and their delivery more than justified that.
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Tabernacle
All the way over from San Francisco, Tabernacle are a conceptual four-piece who make a point of only playing original arrangements of traditional English folk songs. And I guess on paper that kind of says covers, but that’s not quite the end of it. Technically, they’re songs that have been around and performed by many people — it’s fucking folk music; it’s for and of the folk — but the way they interpret the root material is their own, pairing ancient melodies with heavy warmth, languid, fluid nod. I guess the difference between Tabernacle and what I would generally think of as covers is the possibility of progressing in terms of sound. Their approach is open to growing, and between lead vocalist/synthesist Caira Paravel, bechapeaued guitarist/vocalist Walker Phillips, who are solo filk players as well, bassist Camilla Saufley (ex-Golden Void, The Assemble Head in Sunburst Sound, and a Freak Valley veteran) and drummer Adam Weaver (The Asteroid No. 4), they clearly have the range and reach to make that happen if they choose. They don’t have much out, just a few songs streaming, and so I think people didn’t know them that well — writing the announcement that they were playing here was how I learned about them too — but for a band writing around established foundations, they wanted nothing for originality. I’d listen to a record of this, happily.
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Hypnos 69
Hard for me to say enough how much I was looking forward to Hypnos 69. Not something I ever dreamed could happen, even before the band broke up like a decade ago. They’re a band whose music I’ve listened to for 20 years — and that by no means makes me groundfloor, so please don’t think I’m saying it does — and when I was first learning about underground rock, my initial immersion in different styles and bands from all over, they taught me so much about what heavy music could do, about what ‘progressive’ meant in terms of influence and presence, about atmosphere and about how music can seem to chase itself in circles forever and have fun doing it. I was nervous before they went on. What if they didn’t live up to the expectation in my head? What if they were jerks on stage? What if what if what if a piano fell out of the sky on my head two minutes before they went on? They were better than I could have hoped. I guess the phrase “bucket list band” applies, but really it was just something I’d reconciled myself to missing and never being able to see. I’ve lived with those records for so long, to hear and at them brought to life in front of me — along with new material, no less — felt like a landmark. I am so grateful. Thank you Hypnos 69, thank you Freak Valley. And please, if you’re seeing these words and you’ve never heard this band, I implore you to listen. Start with 2010’s Legacy (review here), and work back through 2006’s The Eclectic Measure (discussed here), 2004’s The Intrigue of Perception (discussed here) and 2002’s Timeline Traveller (rules but hasn’t closed a week yet; keeping it in my back pocket; it’s on their Bandcamp with all the rest). At least check it out if you haven’t. Please.
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The Obsessed
Dudes sounded great. More than 40 years on, The Obsessed came across with new life and brought the doom of the Chesapeake to this little alcove in Netphen with fervency and groove alike. Founding guitarist/vocalist Scott “Wino” Weinrich and drummer Brian Costantino have been playing together for about a decade straight at this point, and with Chris Angleberger on bass and Jason Taylor on guitar/backing vocals — last I saw them was 2019 in Boston with Reid Raley still on bass and just Wino on guitar; the more standard configuration as a trio through their history — they sounded more than ready to follow-up 2017’s Sacred (review here) and were locked in all the way with a trademark groove that has helped forge trad doom. There was a short rant between songs about biometric scans and money on bracelets and freedoms being taken away, but that’s who Wino is and is nothing new, even if the discourse around and promulgation of conspiracy theories has changed in the last 10 years. In any case, the songs sounded like I can only imagine riding a motorcycle feels, and that’s the idea when it comes to The Obsessed, so I’m calling it a win outright. New record later this year on Ripple, from which they aired “It’s Not Okay,” which was shouted out to “all these fucking keyboard warriors” typing all their words and something about showing up at their house with a baseball bat on a Sunday and having them run away. Fair enough.
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The Great Machine
Somehow they played fast even when they were playing slow, but either way, Israeli trio The Great Machine ran circles around the stage, and out in front for a bit too, and were a sight to behold as they made sure to get their cardio in while playing. Good fun, great energy, and their new album, Funrider (review here), while aptly named, is just a whiff of what they do live in terms of forward charge. But in addition to running around stage, the sound was also right on, roll and shove and even the odd quiet moment playing off each other with killer stoner roll and density that they made move almost as much as they did while playing. And even more, their set happened to coincide with the first break in the heat of this very, very sunny day, so all the conditions seemed to apply for them to kick ass, which they did with marked thoroughness. They’ve been here before, in 2017 (I looked it up; I know a good place for that kind of thing), and I have a hard time imagining they wouldn’t be invited back again. Rarely in my experience is heavy rock so much fun and still has so much to offer musically. They brought out a guest screamer toward the end of the set and continued to lap the vast majority of everything as they pummeled riff after riff. Hypnos 69 were the band I knew I was waiting for. The Great Machine were the band I didn’t know I was waiting for.
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Hällas
This wasn’t my first time encountering Swedish cosmic strutters Hällas — who rock proto-metallic ’70s space riffs and their capes with equal aplomb; not being sarcastic — but it was the melodies that got me this time. Such a smooth, classy style, between the up-to-three vocalists and the organ and guitars, giving them a sense of out-thereness in alignment with their stage presence. I don’t mind telling you I am beat. Truly. But the sun is on its way down as we head toward 21:30, and I’m happy to let “Star Rider” take me into the home stretch of Freak Valley 2023. Much like hope The Great Machine were more than just somebody’s ecercise video, so too were Hällas more than the sum of their stage costumes. I guess in terms of sound they’re vintage, but it’s retrofuturism if anything, and they’re masters of it at this point and reliable in that regard. And even if I was dragging ass — no yoga today, sadly, though I’ve done some stretching throughout and basic sustenance helped — they most certainly were not and they had people singing along, dancing, spontaneous clapping along, the whole thing. I found a not-quiet but also not-crowded spot to sit and watch, trying to soak in as much as I can of this festival because I know it’s going to be over soon. What a party it’s been. No wonder tickets sell out in like a day every year.
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Orange Goblin
On a planet marked by its paucity of guarantees, you can know in your heart that when Orange Goblin show up, it’s to destroy. Their second album, Time Travelling Blues (discussed here), was released in 1998 on Rise Above Records, which makes its 25th anniversary the occasion for playing it in full for the first time ever here, at Freak Valley, but I ask you in a spirit of friendship, would they really need an excuse? From fucking “Blue Snow” through the fucking title-track — god damn, that groove, and that ending — and fucking “Nuclear Guru,” that’s one of the best fucking sabbath rock records ever made to not actually be by Black Sabbath. The set was a celebration that felt like it applied to the whole weekend, and Orange Goblin absolutely hit that mark. Chris Turner on drums propulsive or swinging or both, Joe Hoare on guitar with blues shred, Harry Armstrong — the only member of the band now who wasn’t in it a quarter-century ago — with a stark reminder that ‘heavy’ lives in the bottom end, and Ben Ward jumping up and down and running point like the frontman he is, like a walking advertisement for his own sobriety and healthy living. Full of life. The night isn’t over yet, but this was a special set in more than just the songs being played. A highlight? Shit. These guys — and in no small part, this record — have inspired a generation and counting of English heavy. It is, and they are, a classic. And being here, with the trees lit up in back and the hey-hey-heys from the crowd almost as loud as the band itself, the band throwing in “Red Tide Rising” as a bonus track at the end. I hope I never forget it. Thank you.
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Slift
Do we need to talk about Ummon? That record (review here) carried entire legions of weirdos through the pandemic, and I felt like I was overdue for seeing Slift live. Not in a the-moment-has-passed way, because it hasn’t, but just in that way I’m perpetually late to any and all parties. They brought the drums down front and set up in a line, had a video protection behind, and you could feel the bass in your chest on that side of the stage even when they were warming up, speaking from personal experience. They lit the galaxy on fire. They blew up the fucking Death Star. Slayer meet Hawkwind. Didn’t know space thrash was a thing? It was tonight for sure, but that’s really just the launch point for the Andromeda-bound FTL groove that Slift emit. People were saying their goodnights, me too, but after a long and busy few days since I took off from Newark an entire dimension ago, I was only too happy to be disintegrated by the pulsations of their cosmic noise. I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t believe it’s ending. I can’t believe how ineffective my earplugs were in the face of their dizzying assault. I could go on, easily, about them ripping holes in space-time, or I could start using treknobabble, which might be fun, but I’m not sure that would capture the overwhelming physical presence of Slift at Freak Valley. I can’t remember the last time I so badly wanted a band to not be a fluke. They’ve got nearly impossible expectations to meet. But, that tension, you can feel in your blood. This band might be the real deal, and I know I’m not the first to say so. At least some of what they played was new, so that bodes well. I’m keeping my fingers crossed. I’m hopeful. Do you know how good that feels?
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Thank you again for reading. Thank you Freak Valley. Thank you Jens, Alex, Marcus, Felli, Roman, Juan, Pete Holland. I met friggin’ Komet Lulu! I was so nervous and awkward; totally embarrassed myself. Everybody who approached me to introduce themselves and say some words about this site or what I do. People are so impossibly kind. Friends I met last year and saw again. Sister Rainbow! I don’t think I knew how badly I needed this, but I bet The Patient Mrs. knew, and thanks to her most of all. Thank you, Wendy. I love you.
I wrote too much today. I took too many pictures. I guess some part of me was trying to cram in as much as I could while I could. No regrets. For mostly my own future reference, here’s the running order of the entire festival. I saw all of it.
More pics after the jump. You know the deal. Cheers from Freak Valley 2023, and all the love in the universe. I fly home tomorrow.
