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Live Review: Roadburn 2018 Hardrock Hideout, 04.18.18

Posted in Features, Reviews on April 18th, 2018 by JJ Koczan

butcher on stage photo jj koczan

04.19.18 – 12:11AM CET – Wednesday night – Hotel Mercure Rm. 224

The Hardrock Hideout is Roadburn‘s annual way of bringing fest-goers into the world of the happening itself. I’d say it eases them in, but there’s usually very little easing happening at all. This year? Three Belgian acts — one multi-genre noise assault and two thrashing speed-rippers each more metal than the last. It was a bill organized in conjunction with Babylon Doom Cult Records and booked in honor of Bidi van Drongelen, who worked at the fest, was close with Walter, and passed away last year. Thrash with a purpose, then. So be it.

One consistent theme for Roadburn each year is growth and I look at how the personality of the Hardrock Hideout has changed even over the last couple years as an example of that. There’s still space for the occasional bit of doom — Atala played, as did The Skull maybe two years back — but the dominant persona of the evening is way more metal than it once was; a capsule analog for how the festival itself has redefined and expanded its scope.

It was an 8:30PM start for a bill with Witch TrailSpeed Queen and Bütcher, in that order, and after a nap that I was going to take whether I wanted to or not, I made it down to Cul de Sac well in advance of the start time.

Here’s how it went from there:

Witch Trail

witch-trail-photo-jj-koczan

I already wish I’d bought a copy of their 2017 album, Thole, which doesn’t bode well for the weekend to come in terms of pulling the trigger on merch-regrets, but so it goes. The three-piece were easily the odd-men-out on the bill and that seemed like a position they should be well used to considering the complexity of the stylistic blend they play, running anywhere from alt-noise riffing in the ’90s style to doomed crash and plod to blackened blastbeating and screams. Based in Ghent, they impressed on cuts like “Splendour” and “Unnatural Caresses,” which took their time unfolding the aesthetic gamut, but never seemed more patient than was warranted or failed to justify one turn into the other. They were right on, in short, and it’s a good thing Thole is up as a name-your-price download so at least I can mitigate my not-CD-buying woes. It’s not the same of course, but it’s hard to argue with, anyhow. They had a couple hiccups during their set but were my pick for the night, hands down, with a sound that seemed as likely to pique the interest of Fenriz as that of Thurston Moore. Not an easy bridge to cross for most bands.

Speed Queen

speed-queen-photo-jj-koczan

High tops, studded belts, two guitars speed-picking, fists raised, beer downed, Speed Queen had the thing nailed, and the thing was classic thrash. For their traditionalist West Coast presentation — see above re: high tops, etc. — they were notably tight, which was doubly remarkable considering the liberal amount of beer pounded while on stage. Frontman Thomas Kenis, with “1992” tattooed on one wrist and an infinity symbol tattooed on the other — it’s good to have goals — didn’t even lose his balance in all that windmill headbanging during songs like “Speed Queen,” “Midnight Murder” and “Live Hard” early in the set. “King of the Road,” somewhat sadly, was not a cover (in fact it’s the title-track of their 2017 debut EP), but “Nice Boys Don’t Play Rock ‘n’ Roll” was, and they gave the Rose Tattoo track a thrashing sneaker to the ass no less fervent than that delivered to their originals. By the time they were deeper into their set, the shouts of “Hey! Hey! Hey!” were coming from more than just their road crew, and it was plain to see Speed Queen‘s classic style had won the hearts and increasingly addled minds of the assembled.

Bütcher

butcher (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Their setlist promised a “Speed Metal Attakk,” and that’s precisely what Antwerp-based five-piece Bütcher delivered as they supported last year’s debut album, Bestial Fükkin’ Warmachine. Need I say more? Probably not, but I will. A rare moshpit was formed at the Cul de Sac, which generally I wouldn’t think has the size to support such a thing, let alone the festival temperament, and yours truly got shoved around a bit as I watched the band deliver their oldskööl metal onslaught, one slicing, punishing cut into the next. Frontman R. Hellshrieker was quick to throw a spiked-armband claw when not holding onto his upside-down-spiked-cross mic stand, and guitarists KK Rippeand DB Deströyer tore into classic-style everything while bassist JA Pulsatör and drummer PB Tormentor pummeled ahead into the forward-thrust grooves. It was heavy, duh, and while I could say I was tired, jetlagged, needed to go back to the hotel and write, and so on, the truth is that Hellshrieker and his elaborately named companions gave oldschool metal a culminating representation worthy of being called true homage, and still managed to find space to inject a personality of their own into the proceedings. I’m telling you, I’ve seen a lot of bands play the Cul de Sac. I can’t recall any of them inducing a mosh. Clearly that takes something special in intent and execution, and Bütcher‘s unabashed metal-for-the-love-of-metal was exactly that.

I’m at least several things, if not many. Two or three. One thing I’m not is the “partying kind.” Socialization? Good times? Sounds utterly horrifying, and I don’t care what anti-anxiety meds you put me on, it won’t be enough for me to not notice how much that party isn’t me-in-front-of-laptop. Weirdo Canyon was jumping off for a Wednesday night — a whole other level on which Roadburn 2018 was being launched, and as I walked out of Cul de Sac, I not only saw Walter and Becky, but Lee from The Sleeping Shaman — with whom I’m once again sharing a hotel room and considering myself fortunate to be in his company — and the artist Cavum, Yvonne, the photographer Dante Torrieri, the dudes from Mirror Queen and a goodly portion of the San Diego Takeover guys with whom I’d rode into town this morning. Strange sometimes to feel like you don’t belong in the one place you belong. That’s all I’ll say about it.

Tomorrow’s a busy day. First day of the fest, sure, but also the first day Lee and I will be finalizing the Weirdo Canyon Dispatch and, for the first time, sending it off to a professional press to be done ahead of doors opening. That makes me less guaranteed to get a copy, but I’m going to try anyhow, of course. This is our fifth year of the WCD daily festival fanzine. It’s hard to imagine how stupid lucky I am to be able to be here and to work on that as a part of my trip every year. I’ve been looking forward to sitting in the office for months. Really.

Lots more to come. Thanks for reading in the meantime. Some extra pics after the jump if you’re up for such things.

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Roadburn 2018 Trip Pt. 2: Hello Again, Tilburg

Posted in Features on April 18th, 2018 by JJ Koczan

san diego takeover dudes at roadburn 2018

04.18.18 – 1:26PM CET – Wednesday afternoon – Hotel Mercure, Room 200-something

The flight was a flight. I had my middle seat, someone on either side of me. Full plane. I availed myself of the entertainment package and watched that inexplicable but not necessarily awful Blade Runner sequel. That ate up a decent chunk of time. Then I slept for about the last two and a half hours. As well as one does on a plane, and by that I mean my eyes are closing as I type this. Ker-plunk.

I was supposed to share a car with Stephen Brodsky from Mutoid Man — or, you know, the dude who sang “Jupiter” when Cave In were the shit — but I waited for like an hour at the shuttle place at Schiphol Airport and he never showed up, so Dave Sweetapple, who helped organized the San Diego Takeover, plays in Witch and Sweet Apple, and is responsible fora lot of the awesome shit that Tee Pee has put out over the last however long and his very kind wife Robin were generous enough to offer me a spot in their van. Actually they were two vans.

And I don’t know who else might’ve been riding around, but these might’ve been the two gnarliest vans on the road in the country at that given moment. Dudes blasted tunes, dudes shouted random stuff about Dutch cows as we passed farmlands. Dudes laughed it up with enough inside jokes that I felt like I’d been invited to sit at some other clique’s lunch table. They tried twice to stop for beer atweirdo canyon in progress gas stations — to no avail either time. Drugs were discussed. A can of beer was thrown.

Rowdy only begins to cover it. It was high-performance shenanigans and though I was falling asleep by the end of the ride — much as I am now — it was still a good time. Got to the venue, my bag was unloaded with the rest of the gear, and I grabbed it and made my way back here, walking down the street of an in-progress Weirdo Canyon, which gven how nice the weather is here, should be packed for the next few days.

Roadburn 2018 starts in a few hours with the Hardrock Hideout. I’m going to crash and see if I can buy some fruit or yogurt beforehand. Fingers crossed and more to come.

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Roadburn 2018 Trip Pt. 1: Departure, Terminal A, Gate 14, Boston

Posted in Features on April 17th, 2018 by JJ Koczan

the airplane

04.17.18 – 4:54PM Eastern – Tuesday evening – Boston Logan Airport, Terminal A

The Patient Mrs. heartily recommended an airport egg salad sandwich. I think she’s out of her mind. So it goes.

They were boarding an earlier flight to Amsterdam when I walked up to the gate, and I thought maybe if I asked nicely enough they’d let me change — anything to avoid a middle seat — but no dice. They were polite enough at the info counter but I was shot down more or less immediately all the same. Blamo. Full flight departs in about two hours, gets in early morning CET. I expect it will be a much less pleasant kind of red eye than the one (or three) I made this morning when I poured espresso in my coffee. No worries. I’m hearty.

A little too hearty for the middle seat, these days.

I don’t eat plane food as a general rule. I was on an Air India flight once, and that was okay, but beyond that I generally think of it as microwaved poison. I brought ana apple, an orange and some protein bars. They’re trying to kill you, the airlines. Fortunately I was born with a special brain and can see through all the friendly smiles in the safety videos. Did I mention I’m flying Delta? This is going to be amazing.

I’m actually not being sarcastic about that last part. This is going to be amazing. 2018 will mark my 10th year attending the Roadburn Festival in Tilburg, the Netherlands. I’ve been fortunate enough in my time to come to know the city the pecanreasonably well — at very least the area by the venue and train station and record shops, etc. — and I’ve never managed to feel so at home that at a place that wasn’t actually my home.

This year will be different from last year or any other year before, since in addition to leaving The Patient Mrs. behind I’m also leaving The Pecan behind. He turns six months old in about a week. I’ll be back in time for that, but he’s proto-crawling at this point and I expect he’ll be on the move at least in some capacity by the time I return. I got video of him the other day rolling over back to front for the first time. Dad stuff.

A bunch of people waiting for the flight in Boston Marathon jackets. That’s a thing that apparently happened this week. I’d be as likely to run to the Netherlands as I’d be to make it 26 miles, so yeah. Way to get a bright orange windbreaker.

I’m excited to see what the next few days bring. Each Roadburn is a different experience seeing it, being there writing about it, the whole thing. I don’t know yet what Roadburn 2018 will be like, and I’ve got a while to go before I get there and actually find out, but it gives me something to look forward to while I’m in that middle seat inevitably taking up more room than I want to be.

Thanks in advance for reading this year’s Roadburn coverage if you do. Off I go.

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