Posted in Features on August 20th, 2024 by JJ Koczan
I remember standing in the room some years after the Saint Vitus Bar’s reputation had been established, talking with somebody from out of town who’d heard that Black Sabbath played there in the ’70s. That wasn’t true, but it was emblematic of the kind of place Saint Vitus Bar was. New York has had probably more than its fair share of legendary clubs — from Studio 54 to C.B.G.B.’s to The Continental, which I still miss — but as it was tucked away in Brooklyn’s then-decisively-less-cool-than-Williamsburg Greenpoint neighborhood, and as it spoke and catered specifically to an underground audience in metal and all things heavy, it became more than just the place where the stoner rock shows went. It was a home.
Earlier this year, Saint Vitus Bar was shut down mid-show by the city of New York on account of some violation or other. The story emerged that some conservative headbanger with an axe to grind because Vitus had a rainbow somewhere or something decided to assassinate the gift horse by reporting whatever it was. By then, Saint Vitus Bar was nearing 13 full years of operation, having opened in August 2011 — the first show I saw there was Totimoshi and Pigs on Aug. 20 (review here) — which is more lifetime than many clubs and venues get before being eaten up by New York’s ever-present drive toward renewal.
Greenpoint had changed since 2011, too. Yeah, the bodega across the way still looked run-down, but just down the way from that is a luxury grocery store underneath about four floors of also-luxury condos, and there’s a wine store right next to where the venue (now) was. When I went there to see YOB in Feb. 2022 (review here) as my first show “back” from the pandemic — one of six times I saw the band there — I imagined the bottles rumbling off the shelves as the riffs shook the walls. Gentrification might not have actually killed Saint Vitus Bar, but only because some other asshole got in there first. This past weekend, after months of behind-the-scenes wrangling, the bar finally announced they were closed for good.
I have amazing memories of time and people there. Meeting friends. The way the sound in the room swallowed you. All the times I saw Kings Destroy. That release show they did with Apostle of Solitude. That time I got on stage to do vocals with Clamfight. Hell, in 2014 when I started kicking around the idea of The Obelisk All-Dayer, there was nowhere else I even thought of doing it. If I couldn’t have the date at Saint Vitus Bar, well, I’d find a different date. In the end, having Mars Red Sky, Death Alley, King Buffalo, Snail, Eye, Heavy Temple and the aforementioned Kings Destroy play, having Walter from Roadburn come just to hang out, was a landmark in my life, and I’ll never forget that Vitus hosted.
T-shirts in the back or the corridor right across from the bathrooms, between the barroom and the venue space. The booth seating they eventually had to take out so people could use that room to stand. The way they redid the front. It still felt like home the last time I was there. You’d see Frank Huang setting up a camera — a polite nod to the man responsible for filming so much of what went on; documentation that will prove all the more essential in the years to come in separating between the true and apocryphal — or maybe George Souleidis would be behind the bar or David Castillo would be in the crowd. You could say hi. Sure, they hosted the closest thing to a Nirvana reunion that’s ever happened, but, still, they weren’t jerks or anything. A lot of people would’ve been.
Saint Vitus Bar became New York’s “of course” venue. Of course that tour was going to hit Vitus. Acid King coming east for like two shows? Of course it’s at Vitus. Saint Vitus at Saint Vitus? Of course. I could go on here, but what it boils down to is that Souleidis, Castillo, Arty Shepherd and the myriad others behind the scenes in ownership and operation cared about what they were doing, about the music and the audience they were catering to. It wasn’t just a box with a P.A. It was the kind of place you tell stories about. The kind of place where you buy the shirt. An icon.
Thank you for everything, Saint Vitus Bar. You were bottled lightning. Something special. And of all the rooms I’ve stood in and watched bands — more than I can or have any interest in counting — you were far and away the most welcoming. I might miss that feeling most of all.
There’s talk of reopening in another space (move to Jersey!), and that worked well enough for Knitting Factory going from Manhattan to Brooklyn, so it’s not impossible that the brand could live on and a win could be pulled from the rubble of this loss. I don’t know the future, but if there’s a spark of hope in that regard I’ll hold onto it just to make the loss easier.
Is it real? Doesn’t feel yet like it could be. I was at Desertfest New York in 2019, and it was a blast while obviously shooting as well to be a proof of concept in terms of whether or not a DF-branded thing could work here. It was also 10 lifetimes ago.
And before we go any further, I propose the official game of Desertfest NYC 2022 is that, whoever feels so clever as to point out that Brooklyn is indeed not a desert ecosystem gets punched in the arm. “Ah you said it!” Punch. Doesn’t have to be a hard punch.
This is the pre-show, which makes the coffee I pounded at the shop down the way as the pre-pre-show. It’s been the better part of three years since I was last at a festival like this, and with coordination by the powers that be at Desertfests London and Berlin, this second DFNY has significantly upped the scale from its lone predecessor. Friday, Saturday and Sunday, packed. Tonight is “just” four bands. An easing in, if you will.
I don’t have a coverage plan for the next few days. I’m going to write when I can, take pictures when I can, do my best to stay hydrated and unconcerned about shit like catching the plague or where to stand so I don’t feel like an asshole. That’s gonna be a big one in terms of difficulty.
But I got to the Vitus Bar early, which is fine because I’d rather sit in a coffee shop than traffic, and apart from needing to use the restroom [I did avail myself of the W.C., labeled as such], I was reasonably comfortable if restless. I took a Xanax before I left the house but am otherwise lucid. I made and brought pecan butter to eat in the car, because that’s who I am. And I have to feed the meter sometime between 5 and 5:30 so I don’t blow it on parking. All of this felt very urgent, because I was nervous about the show.
—
Druids
Their new album is about to come out on Pelagic. They have it for sale in the back, reportedly, which I may have to investigate for myself. The Des Moines trio were supposed to be touring with Planet of Zeus, but so it goes. They did well in the opening spot, had a good and celebratory crowd on their side from the start. Some sludge, some more modern progressive heavy, and they carried it across well in a short set. I could tell you how long it’s been since I’ve seen a band for the first time, but frankly it’s embarrassing. Druids made it easy to remember why I enjoy that kind of thing. Circumstances permitting, they should tour as much as possible. And for having had their tour essentially pulled out from under their feet, they were putting in admirable work on stage and making the most of what they had. For being unfamiliar, I was impressed by their range.
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Freedom Hawk
Freedom Hawk are one of at least two bands on this bill about to put out their best album to-date. They played two new songs in “Take All You Can” and “” and their older stuff was a joy to revisit. Doesn’t seem like that long ago since the last time I saw them here, but turns out it’s been a few years. Live there’s always extra heart in their stuff and the fun they’re having comes across more when you can see them having it, even though Mark Cave’s bass had to be turned down because it was “insane.” And so it was. While I’m thinking of the rhythm section, watching the drums during “Blood Red Sky,” which might need to be moved to a set closer position, have me a whole new appreciation for the snare work in that song and elsewhere throughout Freedom Hawk’s oeuvre. Mostly they were a blast though, whatever you were paying attention to, and they must certainly found welcome in the increasingly packed out room.
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Valley of the Sun
I didn’t drive 11 hours to be here tonight, but Valley of the Sun did, and I don’t know about for them, but it was certainly worth the trip for me. It’s been a decade easy since I last saw them and they too are about to put out the best record they’ve ever made. They had the songs in their set to prove it. “The Chariot,” “Devil I’ve Become.” And I won’t say a bad word, ever, about “Riding the Dunes,” but with so much good new stuff around it, it was just one of a number of highlights even if the last one. They tore it up, and Ryan Ferrier has assembled a lineup for the band that feels built for the stage. They were a joy enough that my neck will be sore tomorrow and I feel lucky to have seen them right now. I asked immediately when they were going on tour and the answer was soon. I’ll be keeping an eye out for that announcement, and if you’re reading this sentence, you should too. What a night this is.
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The Atomic Bitchwax
Fuck, I think I got motion sickness from The Atomic Bitchwax’s riffs. No, really. From the stage, Chris Kosnik, “You wanna hear a fast one or a slow one? Trick question, they’re all fast ones.” I mean, it’s been years since I’ve seen just about anybody, but I feel like it’s even more too long when it comes to these guys. To wit, this is my first time since Garrett Sweeny joined on guitar, and it just works. I’ve seen him play with Monster Magnet — same goes for all of them, I guess — but this band is all about letting loose and ripping it up. And especially in a style where so much is about slow groove and nodding out, here come the Bitchwax just daring you, the other bands they’re playing with on any given night and humanity in general to keep up if you, they, all can. As a band, their oneupsmanship is unreal. It is right that they are headlining. And they did “Kiss the Sun,” and “Birth to the Earth” and “Hope You Die,” and oh, the years since the last time I saw them just melted. T-t-t-total. Freedom. To think a few hours ago I was sitting at the bar reading a book and the place was dead. Now this. How is it not magic? I guess it is. I think I’m gonna throw up though. Still dizzy. Might die. But I’ll die with “So Come On” stuck in my head, so mark that a win.
Posted in Reviews on February 24th, 2022 by JJ Koczan
I was sitting by the side of the bathtub, giving my kid a bath. My head was between my knees and I just decided I couldn’t live like this. I was out the door half a xanax and 10 minutes later, headed to Brooklyn. Yes, I told my wife I was going first.
Yesterday was a misery. Weeks, really. It feels like years since I’ve properly slept and maybe it has been. I don’t know. I’d had tickets for the third night of the four, last night, but I just couldn’t do it. Couldn’t get out the door. And I’d been wretched all day. Mad at myself for missing it, mad at the bullshit, all the last two years, this endless feeling of being right on the edge of something terrible. Fucking hell, at some point you have to live. Was I really going to let this go?
The Saint Vitus Bar has changed. There’s a door in now that bypasses the front barroom if you just want to go to the back, and a corresponding wall on the side of the back bar that I imagine makes it even more compressed between sets but maybe that’s just me protecting my terror at being out among humans. They’ve redone the bathrooms. There’s a wine store next door. Luxury apartment buildings are going up in this neighborhood by the dozen.
In the end, it was the last-chance factor that got me. Four shows. I didn’t need to see all of them. But one didn’t seem like too much to ask for. I’ve been inside for so long. I’ve been good. I got all my shots. I thought less of those who didn’t. Can’t I get a little something for all that comfortable moral superiority?
Remind me sometime and I’ll tell you (again) about the first time I almost saw YOB. Let me tell you from experience: almost seeing YOB is no way to go through life.
So here I am. At soundcheck. They’re playing “Adrift in the Ocean,” which they’ve done for the last three nights, and fair enough since Atma is being reissued. Got to talk to the band for a minute, and the Ecstatic Vision guys are kicking around somewhere. I don’t know when doors are and I don’t care. I made it. I’m doing this.
They follow “Adrift in the Ocean” with “Prepare the Ground.”
—
Next week, Ecstatic Vision will announce the name of their new album and the release date, as well as post the first single. They got to soundcheck after YOB. They even nailed that, but if there was any thought that their mojo might prove elusive for all their time away from a stage, it was dispelled almost immediately once their set started. Covered “TV Eye.” Place went off.
Do you understand? I mean, communal energy. Not just some throw-your-hands-in-the-air hackneyed shit, but the real deal; an honest to goodness vibe. Energy sent on an electric wave through the room, Ecstatic Vision pummeling asteroids careening through space like they’re totally out of control but playing off that tension and release the whole time. Magic. Or at very least, technology my brain will never be able to understand. They just finished. I feel alive.
I have a memory of seeing them in Jersey that feels recent despite being 10 lifetimes ago. They played with Brant Bjork that night. And no one was there. I tried to be kind about it at the time, but the truth is I was maybe one of 30 in the room. But tonight, this place. Shit. They killed then, don’t get me wrong. They were fucking awesome that night. Tonight there were witnesses. I was up front, didn’t move. Almost took a guitar string to the eye. Who cares? Element of danger was sick. Cables coming unplugged before the riff hits. My man swapping between sax and guitar and flute, pounding a Bud Light the whole time. Ecstatic Vision’s psychedelia is beautiful the way you think of lions chasing down and devouring zebras. I feel like I could nap for a week and I feel like I just woke up.
—
“Prepare the Ground.” Awaken. Awaken. I want to say all the weirdness went away immediately. Like it was pushed out of the room by the amps moving air. Even at its most ideal, life doesn’t work like that. But headbanging to YOB on a Wednesday night in Brooklyn is probably the closest I’m ever going to get.
It was beautiful. What a beautiful moment to exist.
Mike Scheidt, Aaron Rieseberg, Dave French, the latter new on drums. Last time I saw him was playing with Brothers of the Sonic Cloth at Roadburn. Or maybe something else. I don’t know. The room was full by the time they went on. It was easier for me to look forward at the stage than to look back at the humans assembled, so that’s what I did. I stayed up front for the duration. Where was I gonna go?
They played the chug ‘n’ lurcher from the last album, “The Screen.” And they played “The Lie That is Sin,” and “Upon the Sight of the Other Shore” and” Adrift in the Ocean” back to back. Broken string? Whatever. Next guitar. Fucking a. Roll on. And they finished with “Burning the Altar.” And that’s when everything was obliterated. You. Me. The whole place. The toxic air. The time. The shitty condos. Just gone.
What do you do with that? This was the last of four nights of YOB at Saint Vitus Bar. I’m so, so glad I saw it. Heard it. Felt it vibrating in my chest, the pain in my neck that I expect will only get worse tomorrow and the next day before it gets better. It doesn’t even matter. Just the sound. That rumble, that ring out. That scream. Fuck. If the altar didn’t burn from that, I don’t think it ever will. I gave Mike and Aaron hugs. I saw friends when it was done. Real friends. Real life. Amazing. Love.
—
Bought a shirt, said goodbye on the quick, mask on, and left. Nothing against anybody’s anything but it was time to go. Flat tire when I got back to the car a bit ago. Called AAA like you do. Box Street and McGuiness. They’re gonna film Blue Bloods there on Friday. Cops and such. Dude put the donut on. I got out in time for the headache to kick in. That’s where I’m at now. Home. Tired. After 1AM. I’ll be up around 7 if there’s mercy to be had. Maybe there is, maybe not. Can’t say I earned it.
I feel like I’ve been hibernating a piece of myself and it just got up and got a first drink of cold water. I don’t know what’s next. Neither do you. But holy shit I’m glad I was born so that I could live tonight.
Posted in Reviews on November 2nd, 2019 by JJ Koczan
Before the Show
Well, don’t tell anybody, but the dude sitting at the end of the bar DJ’ing is me. Actually, come to think of it, I’m pretty sure I don’t care if you tell anybody. At this point, I know most of the seven or eight people in this room right now. But I made a playlist, edited it together so it all plays as one track, and it’s three hours long — like the old podcasts, including a really long song or two along the way — but that’s going, so as far as I’m concerned, sitting here on my laptop is why they asked me to come early. The rest is kind of just waiting around, so at least this way I can look like I’m doing something.
I’ve been kicking around the idea of writing the review while the show is happening — I’m not committing to posting any of it live, since I’ve never done photos on this machine before when I’m actually in a hurry — but it’s 15-minute breaks between bands, so it’s going to depend on how I can time it either way. The important thing? That I stress out about it. Obviously.
And oh yeah, I included Earthride on my playlist specifically with the Saint Vitus Bar in mind, because they often play them between bands. My nod to the room. No one cares, but I wouldn’t expect otherwise, so there it is.
This is the Magnetic Eye Records Day of Doom, a nine-band label showcase that will go from at least now — coming on 1:30 — to 10:30 tonight, so yes, a full day of doom, as it were. At very least, if today had a quota of heavy, I suspect it’ll be filled by the end of it and then some.
But we enter now the sit-tight portion of the afternoon, so that’s my plan. Will check in with more either during or after it’s all over.
During the Show
These Beasts
One would not accuse Magnetic Eye Records of easing into the day with These Beasts. Rather, the Chicago three-piece are at this very moment bludgeoning a Vitus Bar live room with an ultra-aggro, thickened noise rock that’s only sense of letting up is in letting up on the letup. By which I mean there is none. It’s somewhat awkward to be sitting here while they’re playing and admit I don’t know their self-titled LP, released earlier this year, but they’re showing me the error of my ways in pummeling fashion. Can hear punk roots coming through amid the intertwining screams and shouts, but there’s a definite heft to the tone and some vocal echo adds atmosphere to go with all that heads-down force. But there’s plenty of that too and it’s the sheer physicality of what they’re playing that’s letting them pull in such an early crowd. To wit, I’m one of like three people in the back bar right now and I’m about to head back in. Clearly they’re doing something right in there.
Leather Lung
It’s been weeks, not months, not years — more than days, though — since I last saw Boston’s Leather Lung. Last time? Dudes brought stoner-sludge chicanery to Ode to Doom in Manhattan (review here). This time? The location has changed, but the mission not so much. Vocalist Mike Vickers has had the cast taken off his arm and judging by his onstage mosh-shuffle, all seems to be in good working order, so that’s my official medical checkup, but beyond that, they’re bringing a groove that’s plenty fresh in my memory; sludge played from the heart via the crotch that makes no bones about where it’s coming from — Boston — and no bones about its affection for all manner of inebriating. Their groove has this toughguy edge to it that I can’t quite put my finger on and couldn’t last time either, but I don’t think these dudes want to fight so much as they want to get fucked up and play riffs. Like I said, the mission hasn’t changed much since I last saw them. I’ll check back on them in a bit and hope for no more busted limbs from them or anyone else in attendance, for that matter. “It’s all fun and games, until,” and so on.
High Priest
Chicago’s High Priest issued their Sanctum EP (review here) earlier this year and it was kind of a sleeper, but they were high (pun like 25 percent intended) among my list of anticipated acts for the day. Nothing too complex, but they roll out big-time riffs and dig into some hazy vibes and especially after the nasty nasty nastiness that was These Beasts and Leather Lung back to back, they’re a chance to show off some of the stylistic breadth on Magnetic Eye‘s roster. The kind of label as likely to redux Pink Floyd as Helmet, you know. They’d be a fitting complement to a tour with Elephant Tree, if we’re doing label pairings, but I guess probably there needs to be an album out before one starts nailing down dates. We’re in November now, so kind of fair to look back on some of the year’s highlights, and seeing High Priest live for the first time is a reminder of just how much I dug those tunes this past Spring. I’m apparently learning stuff all over the place today. Fun and educational! They also finished by dissolving into a total wash of noise that was affecting and psychedelic in kind. A pleasure to watch. Can’t say it plainer than that.
Caustic Casanova
Of the nine bands on this bill, I’m pretty sure Caustic Casanova win the prize for having the most recent release. Their new record, God How I Envy the Deaf, came out on Oct. 18 as their first through Magnetic Eye and they’re playing Vitus Bar as a precursor to hitting the road on the next of their seemingly endless string of tours. This is also the first time I’m seeing them as the four-piece of drummer/vocalist Stefanie Zaenker, bassist/vocalist Francis Beringer, and guitarists Andrew Yonki and Jake Kimberley, the last of whom is a new recruit. For a band on the road as much as they are, I have to imagine finding someone to mesh with wasn’t easy — Caustic Casanova‘s particular take on melodic heavy rock is a big-time beneficiary of the chemistry they’ve built through touring — but they did it, and the match extends to onstage energy, to be sure. How many bands could cover “Wicked World” and make it sound believable? Caustic Casanova played it like they wrote it, and their original material was no less vital. I’ll make it easy: this is a band you should see. They make it even easier by touring their collective ass off, but even if they didn’t, they’d be worth the effort of showing up when possible. Magnetic Eye made a good-ass pickup when they signed them.
Ghastly Sound
Rivaling Caustic Casanova in the running for most-recent-outing is Vermont trio Ghastly Sound, whose debut full-length, Have a Nice Day, dropped like a sarcastic anvil in September. This was my first time seeing the three-piece, but it’s worth noting they primo position on the bill they’ve received, and I’ll admit that because of that alone, my expectations were high before they went on. Is this the part where I say the band slaughtered those expectations outright, blah blah blah dominance, blah blah blah heavy band destroys minds reaps souls and all the rest? Well, my mind feels pretty destroyed and if I ever had a soul — nope — it’s long gone, but yeah, they delivered in a big spot, taking crossover-style hardcore and leaving the guitar at home, adding melody through vocal effects and reviving a bit of the aggression from earlier in the day. The way they were set up on the Saint Vitus Bar stage made me think there was a guitarist somewhere missing in the building, but nope, and it turned out they didn’t need one, though one hesitates to say such things on a day that has featured thus far and will continue to feature so much choice riffing. A little — or a lot, as in this case — of rumble goes a long way. Also with the shouting and the being really loud. No question the pressure was on, and I know their record was a while in coming, but if I didn’t know they’d just released their debut, I’d say they’d been around much longer.
Horsehunter
Okay. Putting together a nine-band bill? Pretty impressive. Doing so and bringing in bands from the UK and Europe? Even more impressive. Doing so and bringing a band from Australia? And that band is Horsehunter? Who I don’t think are really even together at this point? Yeah, that’s some next level shit. The Aus megasludge four-piece put out their self-titled second album (discussed here) and swansong earlier this year — like, earlier than September — and had already been busted up for two years. Should they be broken up? No, they should not. Even if one could manage to put aside the context of seeing them play even just for 45 minutes as being a total once-in-a-lifetime experience, a group of the Melbourne four-piece’s destructive potential should continue to exist. If they were the only band playing today, it would still be a Day of Doom, and in volume and viscosity alike, they’re on a plane of their own amid this lineup. I don’t know what the future might hold for them, as members have already moved onto different projects, but I have to think that if a band is willing to get together and travel to the other side of the planet to play essentially a one-off gig, they’d have to feel motivated to maybe follow that up with something? Or maybe this would be a pinnacle anyway? I don’t know. Either way, it’s clearly a special moment for all involved parties — those in attendance, those playing, and the Magnetic Eye crew, who believed in them enough to release the record even though they were done — and I’m lucky to have been here for it. Biggest big rock finish of the day as well, so bonus points there, as if they needed them.
Domkraft
This is my second time seeing Sweden’s Domkraft after being fortunate enough to catch them about 13 months ago in Oslo, Norway, at Høstsabbat (review here). They were at that point heralding the release of their second album, Flood (review here), and as they got ready to go on just now I thought back fondly to the positive impression they made that day, blending noise rock, sludge and an almost post-metallic kind of ambience. That’s a fun little narrative, right? Sure it is. Lost in that, however, is the rhythmic undulation of that nod, but man, when they decide to lock that in — and they don’t always, because they’re not a do-one-thing kind of band — they are hypnotic. They had their work cut out for them in following Horsehunter, as anyone would, but guitarist Martin Widholm, bassist/vocalist Martin Wegeland and drummer Anders Dahlgren captured a feeling of spaciousness that seemed to take all the crush of the mighty performance before them and taffy-pull it into a headier, spacier reach, still deeply weighted, still giving that feeling of surrounding you while you’re standing there in front of it, but at the same time extending outward beyond you, beyond the room — maybe just beyond, period. They’ve been to the States before, having played Psycho Las Vegas, and I guess you could count the show they did last night in Jersey with Solace too, but they feel like a band who are really stepping into themselves, and the identity they’re finding as a part of that process suits them. I’m already looking forward to their next record, and far be it from me to tell you how to live your life, but you probably should be too.
Summoner
If you know anything about Magnetic Eye Records, or label founder Mike Vitali (also Black Electric, Ironweed, ex-Greatdayforup, etc.), it’s probably that the label frickin’ loves Boston’s Summoner. I’ve seen them live a handful of times over the years, certainly dug the crap out of 2017’s Beyond the Realms of Light (review here) as I have their material since their days a decade ago operating as Riff Cannon — a name they quickly outgrew and were smart enough to realize it, even though it was a cool moniker to have — and it’s hard to argue. I knew accordingly what to expect going into their set, at least to a degree, but with the recent change that brought Worshipper‘s Dave Jarvis to the lineup on drums — I’m not sure if it’s a permanent or temporary thing; dude was sitting next to me like 15 minutes ago, I should’ve asked — there was an added sense of intrigue to seeing them for what was the first time in a while anyway. However, part of knowing what Summoner do is knowing they do it pro-shop, and as their slot found them positioned right before Elephant Tree at the end of the show, they had an occasion to rise to and they rose to it accordingly, Jarvis sliding right in alongside bassist/vocalist Chris Johnson and guitarists A.J. Peters and Joe Richner, on familiar material while still bringing some of his own swing to it. You won’t hear me disparage the work of Summoner as they were, but if they’re indeed pressing on in this configuration, they’ll be just fine. When Johnson stops smiling on stage, I’ll worry. Didn’t happen at Day of Doom, even after the strap of his bass broke and he had to finish the song with it resting on his knee. That was like two songs in, maybe? No loss of momentum. Pro-shop, front to back.
Elephant Tree
Elephant Tree‘s second full-length, which will actually be released by Holy Roar Records at least in the UK — I admit there might be some regional deal worked out with Magnetic Eye that I don’t know about — is reportedly in the mastering stage. At least, that’s what they told me and I’m not sure what would be their motive for lying about it. Last I heard were a couple rough mixes, but that was a while ago, and I’m all-the-way-serious when I tell you that I can’t think of another record that’s been announced for 2020 that I’m anticipating more. The Londoners’ 2016 self-titled debut (review here) has lost none of its appeal for the subsequent three years — just ask Sister Rainbow, who flew from the UK for this show basically just to see them for what I understand is at least the 48th time — and with the progression I heard evident in their performance (again) at Høstsabbat 2018 (review here) and those rough versions, yeah, I feel justified in my high hopes. It wouldn’t have made sense for them to come to Brooklyn and play only new stuff, but as noted, even the cuts from their self-titled were welcome. The fact that even after such a full show they were given a complete hour for their set should tell you something, and basically it should tell you they’re a band just waiting for your loyalty. See them 49 times? Well, I’m up to at least three now and I feel like that’s barely worth calling a start. Also of note, they’re a four-piece now, with John Slattery on guitar and keys and vocals joining the trio of guitarist/vocalist Jack Townley, bassist/vocalist Peter Holland (of the green strings) and drummer Sam Hart, so that’s all the more of an occasion for their primo stage banter. They’ve just hit into “Aphotic Blues,” if you’ll excuse me… Yeah, that’s an earplugs-out moment not to be missed. And to have them then follow it by bringing album-engineer/multi-instrumentalist/vocalist/he’s-kinda-in-the-band-but-not-really-anymore-except-I-guess-sometimes-like-tonight Riley “The Wizard” MacIntyre on stage first to scream like mad, then to take over Townley‘s guitar for “Wither” only highlighted how incredible this day has been. What a trip. It’s not over. I mean, it’s mostly over, but they’ve got about 10 minutes left, so I’m going to stow the computer and get back to what’s important and get up front for the end, which is where it feels like I should be.
—
After the Show
Just past 12:30AM. I left the Saint Vitus Bar at I guess around 10:45PM and got back here a little bit ago, cursing the name of the tech giant whose mappery failed yet again to take into account Lincoln Tunnel traffic in its calculations. Next time, I take the FDR unless it’s visibly on fire.
Elephant Tree finished with their slowed-down take on Black Sabbath’s “Paranoid,” which given the Brooklyn setting found Holland’s gruffer vocal reminding all the more of Peter Steele from Type O Negative (green strings may have been a factor there as well), and followed that with a new song called “Bird,” the harmonies of which are particularly gorgeous and lush seeming. I can’t wait to hear that album.
Basically I’m keying down from the show, and there was a lot of show to key up. Kind of striking how even the bands whose sounds had common elements were able to stand themselves apart. That was true the whole time. And I stayed the whole time. And I wound up running the playlist the whole time as well, at least until Elephant Tree were done. So I guess that’s a thing. I DJed the show. Wasn’t planned, but I was plugged in and using my laptop anyway, so there you have it. I dug the tunes, anyway. Hopefully I wasn’t the only one.
Thanks to Mike Vitali and to Jadd Shickler for having me on board for that and for putting the thing together generally. This was a pretty astounding feat when it comes to coordination, and those efforts on their behalf were deeply appreciated. Vitali got on stage before Horsehunter went on to thank everybody and it was plain to see it was an emotional night for him as well. It would have to be, frankly.
Thanks to the bands, to everyone who said hi and/or nice things, and thanks to you for reading. Most of all, thanks to The Patient Mrs., who made my being there possible, and who makes pretty much everything that’s possible possible.
Alright, let’s face facts. Nov. 17, you weren’t going to be anywhere other than the Saint Vitus Bar. That’s the night Monolord and Blackwater Holylight are playing. Obviously you’re going. Obviously I’m going. Obviously we’re all going and we’re all looking very much forward to that.
What I’m saying to you is, get there early. Super-early. 2PM early. Because there’s an opportunity here to turn a pretty heavy night into an all-day extravaganza, and there’s even a convenient break in between for you to, I don’t know, get some food or coffee-up or do whatever you need to do.
In conjunction with Ode to Doom, The Obelisk (you are here) is presenting Godmaker with (Kenny Appell of Cleanteeth, Goes Cube, etc., filling in on drums), Hyborian and Migrator on Sunday afternoon, Nov. 17, ahead of the evening’s festivities. Is it going to be absolutely insane? Yes. Should you take Monday off from school, work, or whatever of life’s duties might otherwise occupy your time? Totally. Why? Because chances like this don’t come along every day, and years from now, you’re still going to remember that time you told the rest of the universe to buzz off and did it up proper in Brooklyn, whereas otherwise, it’s just gonna be another Monday of the same old crap that, barring disaster, will be another in a series of forgettable such Mondays. Even if you have a good day doing whatever it is you do, I submit it won’t compete with plowing your brains into oblivion with riffs by hitting these two shows back-to-back.
And hey, if you need to, need to, need to go to work or whatever on Monday, a Sunday matinee still gives you plenty of time to get home and get yourself ready for the morning. Either way, you don’t lose.
Brought to you by our friends at Ode to Doom and The Obelisk.
Godmaker (Brooklyn, Aqualamb / The Company / godmaker.bandcamp.com) returns to bringing the loud, for one last 2019 show, with their midwestern brothers in:
Hyborian (Kansas City, MO / Season of Mist / Company Crüe alumni / hyborianrock.bandcamp.com), and your soon to be favorite Heavy / Sad / Crushing thing from Lawrence, KS —
Posted in Whathaveyou on May 8th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
I don’t at all think you need me to tell you to go see Conan whenever the opportunity should happen to present itself. With the brand-newly-announced secret show with Yatra and False Gods at the Saint Vitus Bar as an offshoot from their tour with Black Label Society and The Atomic Bitchwax, that’s one more chance to do so. The UK three-piece have made a couple stops at the venerable Brooklyn institution at this point — I saw them there in 2015 (review here) — but it’s a sight to behold and sound to… well, have your ears blown out by. Their volume, in that room. Safe to say you’ll be hitting the water cooler in back by the bar once or twice during the set. Or, you know, just drinking more generally.
Conan continue to support their 2018 album, Existential Void Guardian (review here), and are working toward the release of yet another new record this year, all the while coming back to the States in June around an appearance at Maryland Doom Fest 2019 where, as one would expect, they’ll be headlining. Hard to argue with the logic there, and whenever I hear something about the next Conan LP showing up, I’ll let you know. Unless it’s a secret. I can keep secrets.
Not this one though:
CONAN – Semi-Secret Show at Saint Vitus Bar
CONAN Live: May 09 Hampton Beach, NH – Hampton Beach Casino # May 10 Brooklyn NY – Saint Vitus Bar May 12 Richmond, VA – The National # May 13 Baltimore, MD – Ram’s Head Live # May 14 Toronto, ON – Opera House # May 15 Toronto, ON – Opera House # May 22 Los Angeles, CA – El Rey Theater # May 23 Los Angeles, CA – El Rey Theater # # = w/Black Label Society * = w/Atomic Bitchwax
June 23 Frederick, MD – Maryland Doom Fest ^ June 26 Boston, MA – Great Scott ^ June 27 Portland, ME – Geno’s ^ June 28 Montreal, QC – Turbo Haus ^ June 30 Cleveland, OH – Now That’s Class ^ July 01 Columbus, OH – Ace of Cups ^ July 02 Indianapolis, IN – Black Circle ^ July 03 Chicago, IL – Reggies ^ July 04 Rock Island, IL – RIBCO July 05 Omaha, NE – Slowdown July 06 Rapid City, SD – Haycamp Brewery July 07 Denver, CO – Hi-Dive ^ = w/Witchkiss
Lineup: Jon Davis – vocals, guitar (2006-present) Chris Fielding – bass (2013-present) Johnny King – drums (2017-present)
Posted in Reviews on April 27th, 2019 by JJ Koczan
An unfamiliar context in familiar environs. Desertscene and Sound of Liberation, who together are behind Desertfest in London and Berlin as well as numerous other events, are playing it smart. New York is a hard town to do a festival, and if they’re thinking of making this an annual event, they’re building from the ground up. It’s not about rolling into Brooklyn and trying to nudge arguably the most entitled audience in the US — because fucking everything comes through New York, and is expected to — into embracing your brand, but about introducing what you do in a way that allows that audience to feel like it’s getting in on something on the ground floor.
To that end, the first night of the first Desertfest NYC was held at the Saint Vitus Bar with a welcoming spirit and a due course of volume. To those who’d point out there are no deserts in New York, congratulations on your cleverness. Please send a self-addressed, stamped envelope for your sticker. For those of more discerning cognition, the point was the music, always, and Desertfest NYC 2019 both embraced the space it was in and the audience it drew in delivering an inaugural night that felt like a kickoff as much for the parties behind it as those in attendance.
Four bands would lead in to two days of nine apiece, and the venue for Saturday and Sunday is The Well, but the Saint Vitus Bar is not only pro-shop from top to bottom, but an intimate enough space to still feel like something special might happen. Whatever the future holds for Desertfest in New York City, I’ll gladly argue that something special already did.
Here’s how the night went:
Heavy Temple
Have you told two friends yet about Heavy Temple? I sincerely hope so, and I hope they do likewise. It was my first time seeing the latest incarnation of the Philly purveyors of hard fuzz, who seem to have sacrificed little of their forward momentum for once again swapping out two-thirds of the lineup around founding bassist/vocalist High Priestess Nighthawk. Now in the company of guitarist Lord Paisley — and congratulations to him on the stage name, because that is marvelous — and drummer Baron Lycan (not bad either), Nighthawk remains the commanding presence at the heart of the band. They’re new in this form, but at least some of what they played was readily familiar from 2016’s shorty-long-player Chassit (review here), and with Nighthawk righteously softshoeing her basslines in true “taking them for a walk” fashion” and Paisley and Lyan certainly more than just along for the ride, they showed that the band’s potential has not at all dimmed for the tumult in personnel. They’re recording — guitars next, apparently — and have tour dates lined up with Ecstatic Vision (info here). I’d say by the end of that run they’ll be on fire, but they already were.
High Tone Son of a Bitch
I seem to have a preternatural aversion to bands with two frontmen, which is a terrible generalization to make across the board, but true nonetheless. Some people don’t like two guitars. I tend to feel like if you’re going to have more than one person whose primary function is as a singer, you need to earn that aesthetically, either with some harmonies or arrangement depth, etc. Oakland, CA’s High Tone Son of a Bitch brought some aggro noise spirit to both traditionalist heavy rock and Southern-tinged riffing, and indeed there was some interplay between their two vocalists, which helped. They’re a band requiring context, with members of Noothgrush and Kalas aboard and the fact that they were together in the early part of the century before losing guitarist Andrew Kott to drug addiction, and taking more than a decade off only to recently begin a comeback. Even for those without the background though, they seemed to hold their own. They’ve been touring with Weedeater — always helps — and were still getting their feet (back) under them amid some competing vibes onstage, but they acquitted themselves well and their new material seemed to pick up where they left off 15 years ago, so all the better.
Here Lies Man
There was talk afterward of Black Cobra stealing the show — and fair enough — but I’d never seen Here Lies Man before, and among the entire weekend’s lineup, they were high among my most anticipated sets. Their two full-lengths for RidingEasy Records, 2017’s Here Lies Man (review here) and last year’s You Will Know Nothing (review here), have both garnered significant critical praise, but they have yet to capture the kind of word-of-mouth-holy-crap-you-gotta-see-this-band backing they deserve. With shared vocals among guitarist Marcos Garcia, drummer Geoff Mann and bouncing bassist JP Maramba and keyboardist Will Rast prominent in the front-of-house mix, they showed just how far they’ve taken the central conceit of the group they started with — “what if Black Sabbath played afrobeat” is how it’s been phrased in the press releases — and made something new from it that’s neither entirely one or the other but all the more a defined Here Lies Man sound. They jammed with character and held down air-tight rhythm and melody with a sense of artistry and professionalism, and as they move toward their third full-length, they only seemed to be poised for people to catch on to what they’re doing. They were, in short, really, really good. You like bands? Okay cool. Here’s a band. Fucking dig in.
Black Cobra
Hey, guess what. Black Cobra were completely dominant. Well of course they were — that’s what they do, and they do it remarkably well. There was some trouble early on with Rafa Martinez‘s bass drum trying to run away from him — only reasonable, since he was kicking the shit out of it at the time — but he and guitarist/vocalist Jason Landrian took the Saint Vitus Bar stage and pummeled, pummeled, pummeled their way into a massive oblivion of thrash-infused heft, delivered with the efficiency of a band 15 years removed from their first EP who have long since attained plug-in-and-destroy status via touring that, for years during that stretch at least, was well into what most humans would consider “excessive.” They’re three years out from 2016’s Imperium Simulacra (review here), and I certainly wouldn’t mind if they did a follow-up to that offering, which was their most dynamic to-date, but let’s face it, if Desertfest NYC wanted to be sure everyone stumbled out of the bar feeling like their asses had just been handed to them, they called the right band. I thought maybe I’d try an experiment and try to review their set without once referencing an act of violence — really, I thought of it while they were playing and people were moshing, chuckled out loud to myself at the notion and was interested to try — but obviously such a cause would be hopeless. With the venue duly laid waste, Black Cobra wrapped their set and gave the addled room over to the after-party, every bit in the fashion of the headliners they truly are.
—
One thing I wanted to mention that didn’t fit in the review: I got pushed at this show. I was taking pictures of High Tone Son of a Bitch and was up front for it, and I stepped to the other side of the stage, saw the guy I was getting in front of was wearing a SonicBlast Moledo shirt, said “nice shirt,” turned to take a picture of the stage-right guitarist, and the dude pushed me as if to move me out of his way. I don’t imagine this was someone from the area. I spent a decent few minutes afterwards thinking about the ownership of space, personal agency of one’s body, how one responds to being bullied, my own history in this regard, and so on, and landed pretty much on my initial reaction, which was a hearty go fuck yourself. It’s a show, and shit happens, but if you want to be up in front of the stage so bad, get there first. Otherwise, feel free to kiss my ass.
I saw the same guy after the set as he was walking to the back, and as he passed me, I gave him a little shove. Equal and opposite reaction. No words were exchanged — I didn’t think it required verbal follow-up — and that was it. I didn’t see him again and if I did, I don’t think there would’ve been any residual acrimony. But these moments affect one’s evening, if temporarily, and I was glad to be in a place I enjoy so much and surrounded by so many good people — the New York Faithful Family Reunion 2019 in full effect — who helped put me back in the proper mindset without even knowing they were doing it. It was a great night.
Today the show moves to The Well and it starts in a couple hours, so I’ll leave it there and just say I’m looking forward to it. More pics after the jump if you’re interested.
Half a decade ago, I tagged along with Kings Destroy on a West Coast tour that took us, among other places, through a snowstorm in Wyoming. It was late at night, and cars were sliding off the road and pulled over with their flashers on, plows nowhere to be seen. A general wreck. I took over driving that night — hi, I’m sober — and we just went to where we were staying very, very slowly. One does not want to flip the Sprinter van with all the gear in it when one is not even in the band.
I thought about that snowstorm at seven in the morning on Saturday to go south from Massachusetts to see Kings Destroy‘s record release show at the Saint Vitus Bar in the Lost City of Brooklyn after seeing them the night before in Boston, with Gozu and Forming the Void, who’d also be playing again, while Philly’s Clamfight stepped into the opening spot. It’s not every band on the planet I’d leave the house for, let alone take six hours to make a four-hour trip. It all worked out, though, and nobody flipped any vehicles. A win, even before the night started.
It was an early show, which is fine by me forever. There was an NYC Beer Week event with metal breweries at the Vitus Bar before the show kicked off, and Alewife Brewing had a special beer for Gozu — a Gozu Gose — and so it was a double release gig, with Kings Destroy marking the arrival this week of their fourth album, Fantasma Nera, and Gozu having a few cans of their own special brew on hand. There was no way it wasn’t going to be a party.
The beer thing was basically irrelevant to me other than the Gozu cans were cool looking, but it made sure the crowd had gotten plenty of “tasting” done by the time Clamfight went on. Here’s how it all went from there:
Clamfight
Hugs all around. I’ve known Clamfight for well over a decade at this point, and they played three songs at the Saint Vitus Bar, but honestly, apart from being happy to see them and the fact that in the time since I last did — in the same place, no less — they released last year’s III (review here), which was by any measure a huge leap forward in sound and approach, I spent the bulk of their set feeling cripplingly nervous. I had put out on social media a post with their track “Echoes in Stone” that said how I daydreamed about singing the song on stage with them, and they invited me to do it. When I was in a band a decade ago, we used to do shows together a lot and it was how we got to be friends. They invited me to do the song, and, after much hemming and hawing, I actually did it. I sang backups to drummer Andy Martin and was up on the Vitus Bar stage with him, bassist Louis Koble and guitarists Joel “Papa” Harris and guitarist Sean McKee and I did the song. The last time I was on a stage was eight years before, and I thought I’d never do it again, but in the end, the situation felt right and when it was done, I was glad I did it. Sore, and glad. And sore. But also glad. And sweaty. Before I got up, they also killed and the metal-breweries crowd left over from the beer event earlier were right on board with their more aggressive side. It had been too long since I saw them, and I’m glad to know I’ll catch them again at New England Stoner & Doom Fest this Spring.
Forming the Void
It was really, really easy to watch Forming the Void play two nights in a row. They seemed comfortable on a bigger stage, and were able to spread out a bit more in their setup, but the huge tones and progressive melodies came through no less effectively for the larger space they occupied in Brooklyn than they had in Boston. And it’s interesting to see that people are clearly onto them. They brought out a good, growing-band crowd both nights, and what they brought to the bill was to be the one on the lineup that people hadn’t seen yet on the tour. The seeing-them-for-the-first-time band, because of course neither Gozu nor Kings Destroy — nor Clamfight, for that matter — were strangers to the venue, but you could see in the crowd people being engaged by the Louisiana natives, and that initial curiosity turning into fandom in real-time. Touring suits them. They’re building a stage presence and as they become more confident in their approach, that will become all the more a factor, but they’re already able to take a room and bring the people in it onto their side, and that is a massive step. Good band. Good band. Go see Forming the Void. Their next album or two — they work quickly — will tell the tale, but already, good band. They’ll be at Maryland Doom Fest in June, I’m hoping with new material in tow.
Gozu
Appropriately enough, Gozu and Kings Destroy switched up the order from the night before in Boston, giving the New York band the play-last spot in their hometown, but Gozu still tore through Saint Vitus Bar like headliners. This was their last night of the three on the road with Kings Destroy and Forming the Void — Portland, Boston, Brooklyn — and they railed into their set in absolute blowout fashion. If I didn’t know they were playing with a new drummer in Alex Fewell, I wouldn’t have thought twice about it, and it was clear they were getting it together as they were going. No flubs that I heard, and frankly, I was paying pretty close attention. If he’s permanent, Fewell (also of thrashers Black Mass) would be the third drummer in Gozu, and though he’s playing established material with parts originally written by someone else — either Mike Hubbard or Barry Spillberg — he brings his own sensibility to it. I was glad to see him a second night with the band, because that came through all the more. He’s not a pure tech drummer, but he’s able to carry the sharp-edged “Nature Boy” without trouble and still swing when called upon to do so. By the time guitarist/vocalist Marc Gaffney was shaking his hips later into the set in the middle of the stage with guitarist Doug Sherman and bassist Joe Grotto headbanging on either side, Gozu seemed fully locked in and sustainable as they are now. I don’t know how fluid their situation is, but their intent to keep moving forward was plain to see, and it’s worth being thankful for that.
Kings Destroy
I was at the record release show at Saint Vitus Bar in 2015 for Kings Destroy‘s self-titled third LP (review here). I got to do a track premiere for that one. This time, I wasn’t cool enough, but as they move toward the release of their fourth album, Fantasma Nera, this week as their offering under the banner of Svart Records, I couldn’t help but think back to that show and the massive difference in sound between that material and the newer stuff. They liken it to grunge, which is fair in a sense, but New York — and really, East Coast — grunge was always a bit meaner, and that holds true for Kings Destroy as well. What they’ve ended up with is a kind of heavy rock that in some ways communes with their hardcore past, but is much more melodically present and more than ever sure of its songwriting approach. I said of the Boston show they were still feeling out how to present the new songs live — once again, they played all Fantasma Nera material except for “Mr. O” from the last album — but being on their home turf definitely helped. This was their 25th show at the Saint Vitus Bar. I haven’t been at every one of those shows, but I’m happy to have seen as many as I have, and I know full well this won’t be the last one I catch. They are the masters of that domain, new songs or old, and owned the show the way you own your living room. I stood in the middle of the crowd — something I rarely do — and however many times I’ve seen them later, still felt lucky to be there.
—
Sometimes it’s easy to lose sight of yourself and your place. Some people come to underground music with an endgame in mind. They have a goal and are working toward that goal. That’s not always the wrong call, but if you’re looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of underground heavy, you’re doing it wrong. It’s not about the gold, it’s about the rainbow. It’s not what you get from the work, it’s the work itself. The work is the reward. People can support each other and help out and whatever else, but at the end of the night when you’re driving home from the show, if you’re not happy with the work, there’s no point to any of it. Because that gold? It’s bullshit. You’re never going to get it. But rainbows really do exist and they’re fucking awesome. Live for the work or live wrong. Nights like this, they help you align your perspective and inspire you to keep it right.