Desertfest London 2024 Adds 32 Bands to Lineup & Announces Day Splits

Posted in Whathaveyou on February 1st, 2024 by JJ Koczan

So I guess this is the last announcement for the lineup of Desertfest London 2024, and I’ll just say I kind of love the casual manner in which the festival set for May 17-19 tosses in another 30-plus names for the bill. Oh no big deal but here’s like two more fests we’re just gonna add while we give you the schedule. Badass. There’s a lot to dig here on all levels, from the headliners — that Friday at The Electric Ballroom, also Saturday and Sunday, looks pretty sweet — and while I’d set up camp at The Underworld on Saturday, no question I’d have to abscond from that home base to at least catch a bit of Saint KarloffAcid King, and so on, and, well, on Sunday I’m actually kind of relieved I’m just pretending to have to pick one spot to be in, as each room has a distinctive pull. DVNE and Morag Tong or Borracho and KadabraUfomammut and Monolord or Stinking LizavetaDarsombra and Orme? This shit is hard sometimes.

You could go on here in choose-your-adventure daydreaming, and frankly I’d encourage you to do just that. Worst that happens is you end up listening to good music. Or, you know, going to the fest, which would also be the best thing that could happen. Here’s why:

DESERTFEST LONDON 2024 DAY SPLITS

Desertfest London announces day splits and 32 additional artists

Friday 17th May – Sunday 19th May 2024
Weekend & Day Tickets now on sale

Desertfest London has revealed their day and stage splits for their 13th edition, taking place this May across multiple venues in Camden, London.

The festival proudly welcomes Masters of Reality as Friday’s Electric Ballrooms headliners, with Chris Goss at the helm providing a master-class in desert sounds. Plus, newly announced for this stage are Colour Haze and Frankie and The Witch Fingers who will join Brant Bjork Trio and Mondo Generator to kick off the weekend in true Desertfest style. Mantar and Raging Speedhorn will shake-up the Underworld, whilst Brume and Alber Jupiter psych-out at The Black Heart.

Saturday sees skate-punk legends Suicidal Tendencies back in London for the first time in seven years, as they decimate the equally legendary Roundhouse. Joined by Cancer Bats, Bongripper, Acid King and newest addition to the bill, Pest Control. Saturday’s Roundhouse stage is undeniably a melting pot of genres, but celebrating one common thread – insane live performances. Elsewhere, Maserati, Monkey3, Domkraft, Wet Cactus and many more will level Camden to the ground.

Back at the Ballroom on Sunday night, the festival enters its final day with a dose of experimental heaviness from Godflesh, Ozric Tentacles, Monolord, Ufomammut & Ashenspire. Additionally, Desertfest will be welcoming Bat Sabbath, the Black-Sabbath cover band formed by Cancer Bats to close out the entire weekend at our Underworld Stage after-party. Plus, DVNE, Nightstalker, Astroqueen, Stinking Lizaveta & The Grudge, with a hell of a lot more will be rounding off the weekend’s festivities.

Across the weekend, Desertfest has also newly announced the likes of Morag Tong, Borracho, Noisepicker, Gramma Vedetta, Lodestar, Kulk, Earth Tongue, Skypilot, Wolfshead, Weedsnake, Orsak:Oslo, WAXY, Horndal, Silverburn, Fires In The Distance, Sleemo, Midwich Cuckoos, Akersborg, Grand Atomic, Voidlurker, Under The Ashes and Fuz Caldrin.

Weekend & Day Tickets for the event are on sale now via www.desertfest.co.uk

Full line-up
SUICIDAL TENDENCIES | MASTERS OF REALITY | GODFLESH | OZRIC TENTACLES BONGRIPPER | MONOLORD | ACID KING | UFOMAMMUT | COLOUR HAZE | BRANT BJORK TRIO | MASERATI | MANTAR | MONDO GENERATOR | CLOAKROOM | MONKEY3 | FRANKIE & THE WITCH FINGERS | NIGHTSTALKER | BLANKET | BAT SABBATH | DVNE | PEST CONTROL | RAGING SPEEDHORN | ASHENSPIRE | DOMKRAFT | ASTROQUEEN | PIJN | SUNNATA | BRUM | WAKE | KAL-EL | ALBER JUPITER | SUGAR HORSE | STINKING LIZAVETA | WET CACTUS | PSYCHLONA | MORAG TONG | KADABRA | BORRACHO | THE GRUDGE | DARSOMBRA | SERGEANT THUNDERHOOF | GRAMMA VEDETTA | SAINT KARLOFF | LODESTAR | LORD ELEPHANT | GOZER | ACID THRONE | KULK | EARTH TONGUE | DUSKWOOD| GOBLINSMOKER | SKYPILOT | BOREHEAD | ORME | WOLFSHEAD | CLOUDS TASTE SATANIC | WEEDSNAKE | NOISEPICKER | ORSAK:OSLO | WAXY | HORNDAL | SILVERBURN | FIRES IN THE DISTANCE | SLEEMO | SAGAN | MIDWICH CUCKOOS | AKERSBORG | WARPSTORMER | GRAND ATOMIC | VOID LURKER | UNDER THE ASHES | SONIC TABOO | WIZDOOM | FUZ CALDRIN

DAY / STAGE SPLITS FOR DESERTFEST LONDON 2024

Friday 17th May
Electric Ballroom
MASTERS OF REALITY
COLOUR HAZE
BRANT BJORK
MONDO GENERATOR
FRANKIE & THE WITCH FINGERS

Underworld
MANTAR
RAGING SPEEDHORN
WAKE
WEEDSNAKE
GRAND ATOMIC

Dingwalls
CLOAKROOM
BLANKET
SUGAR HORSE
PIJN
SLEEMO

Black Heart
BRUME
ALBER JUPITER
CLOUDS TASTE SATANIC
ORSAK:OSLO
SAGAN
BOREHEAD

The Dev
GOBLINSMOKER
WARPSTORMER
WOLFSHEAD
VOIDLURKER
AKERSBORG

Saturday May 18th
Roundhouse
SUICIDAL TENDENCIES
CANCER BATS
BONGRIPPER
ACID KING
PEST CONTROL

Underworld
MASERATI
MONKEY3
DOMKRAFT
SUNNATA
SERGEANT THUNDERHOOF
KAL-EL

Black Heart
WET CACTUS
DUSKWOOD
EARTH TONGUE
SAINT KARLOFF
LORD ELEPHANT
SONIC TABOO

The Dev
ACID THRONE
HORNDAL
UNDER THE ASHES
FIRES IN THE DISTANCE
WIZDOOM

Sunday May 19th
Electric Ballroom
GODFLESH
OZRIC TENTACLES
MONOLORD
UFOMAMMUT
ASHENSPHIRE

The Underworld
BAT SABBATH (after-party)
NIGHTSTALKER
ASTROQUEEN
PSYCHLONA
BORRACHO
KADABARA
NOISEPECKER

Dingwalls
DVNE
MORAG TONG
KULK
LODESTAR
SILVERBURN

Black Heart
STINKING LIZAVETA
DARSOMBRA
GOZER
SKYPILOT
ORME
GOAT MAJOR

The Dev
THE GRUDGE
GRAMMA VEDETTA
WAXY
MIDWICH CUCKOOS
FUZ CALDRIN

TICKETS ON SALE – www.desertfest.co.uk

http://www.desertscene.co.uk/support
https://www.facebook.com/DesertfestLondon
https://www.instagram.com/desertfest_london/
https://www.desertfest.co.uk/

Monkey3, “Collision” visualizer

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Desertfest London 2024 Makes First Lineup Announcement

Posted in Whathaveyou on November 8th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

desertfest LONDON 2024 banner

Getting Masters of Reality over has been a project in the works for Desertfest London since before the pandemic, and it looks like 2024 will be the year. The band burned a few bridges over the last couple years when frontman Chris Goss took a hardline right-wing stance on issues surrounding covid and whatever else (that kind of thing will win fans as well in some cases), but their work remains the stuff of legend and any time there’s a connection to OG-era Californian desert rock — as there is with Goss, who was there in his own band and as producer for Kyuss, etc. — that’s a boon and a good get for Desertfest generally, though even if you’re not a Masters of Reality fan owing to politics or just never having gotten on board, the entire line right under them on the poster is unfuckwithable: GodfleshMonolordAcid King and Ufomammut. Goodness gracious. And the next name is Brant Bjork. Gonna be Desertfest, to be sure.

Warms my cold dead ‘eart to see Stinking Lizaveta and Darsombra confirmed — I’ll put Domkraft in that sentimental-favorite category as well, and check out fellow Swedes Astroqueen doing some more traveling — and I look forward to the grandiose plaudits soon to be bestowed on Warpstormer and Goblinsmoker after their respective appearances, which is something Sergeant Thunderhoof should be able to help them through. With Clouds Taste Satanic traversing the Atlantic again, and others like Pijn and DuskwoodMantarMaserati and Monkey3, there’s a three-day fest’s worth of acts already revealed in this first announcement and probably two or three more three-day fests’ worth of names to come. I’ll tell you outright I’d shit a brick to see this. If you’re gonna be there, know how lucky you are.

From the PR wire:

Desertfest London announces 25 bands for 2024 edition including headliners Masters of Reality plus, Godflesh, Monolord, Acid King, Ufomammut & more

Friday 17th May – Sunday 19th May 2024 | Weekend Tickets now on sale

Desertfest London have unveiled 25 bands for their 12th edition, taking place across multiple venues in Camden next May 17th – 19th.

Following their pandemic induced cancellation in 2020, Desertfest is thrilled to announce desert rock pioneers Masters of Reality for the event. It will be the band’s first UK appearance in almost a decade. Masters of Reality is the brainchild of legendary producer Chris Goss (Welcome to Sky Valley, Rated R, Blues for The Red Sun, Dust, Songs for The Deaf). Their combination of hard-rock blues with a progressive tinge makes no apologies for not sticking within the stylised box listeners would expect, yet simultaneously provides the perfect lesson in the musical ethos and story-telling of the Palm Desert scene – all led by the man who laid its foundations.

Following an unforgettable performance at the New York edition of the Desertfest franchise a few months ago, industrial trailblazers Godflesh will return to London for a masterclass in sonic brutality. UK exclusive performances come in the form of Swedish doom masters Monolord, California stoner metal legends Acid King and the long-awaited return of Italian experimentalists Ufomammut.

Further Desert Rock royalty rolls into Camden Town, as Brant Bjork Trio will treat attendees to a back-catalogue few artists can compete with. Instrumental sound shifters Maserati, hard-hitting duo Mantar, introspective visionaries Cloakroom and heavy-psych rockers Monkey3 will take the concept of genres and set them ablaze.

Elsewhere the likes of Blanket, Domkraft, Pijn, Sugar Horse, Stinking Lizaveta and Darsombra will bring a captivating change of pace to the event. Whilst the stoner rock vibes remain alive and well with Astroqueen, Wet Cactus, Sergeant Thunderhoof and Duskwood.

If that wasn’t enough to get your teeth into, Desertfest rounds of its first announcement with Goblinsmoker, Clouds Taste Satanic, Warpstormer, Sonic Taboo & Wizdoom.

Weekend Tickets for the event are on sale now via www.desertfest.co.uk with much more to still be announced!

Full line-up:
MASTERS OF REALITY | GODFLESH | MONOLORD | ACID KING | UFOMAMMUT | BRANT BJORK TRIO | MASERATI | MANTAR | CLOAKROOM | MONKEY3 | BLANKET | ASTROQUEEN | DOMKRAFT | PIJN | SUGAR HORSE | STINKING LIZAVETA | WET CACTUS | DARSOMBRA | SERGEANT THUNDERHOOF | GOBLINSMOKER | DUSKWOOD | CLOUDS TASTE SATANIC | WARPSTORMER | SONIC TABOO | WIZDOOM

TICKETS ON SALE – www.desertfest.co.uk

http://www.desertscene.co.uk/support
https://www.facebook.com/DesertfestLondon
https://www.instagram.com/desertfest_london/
https://www.desertfest.co.uk/

Godflesh, Live in Boston, Massachusetts, Sept. 15, 2023

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Album Review: Stinking Lizaveta, Anthems and Phantoms

Posted in Reviews on June 26th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

stinking lizaveta anthems and phantoms

Recorded in 2020, Anthems and Phantoms is the ninth full-length from Philadelphia committed instrumentalists and doomjazz innovators Stinking Lizaveta. The three-piece of guitarist Yanni Papadopoulos, upright electric bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta were last heard from with 2017’s Journey to the Underworld (review here), and the new album — produced at Permanent Hearing Damage in South Philly by Steve Roche and issued via SRA Records — will carry them past the 30th anniversary of their inception in 2024. If you’ve been fortunate enough to see them in the post-pandemic era — they’ve been at Desertfest NYC (review here), Psycho Las Vegas (review here), and are about to support Telekinetic Yeti on a summer tour of the Western portion of the country — then you’ve already basked in the joy and passion that radiates from Stinking Lizaveta onstage. They shred, they dizzy, they head-down-speed-riff-into-open-groove, all hairpin turns and the underlying technical prowess to pull it off, but they’re not a ‘tech’ band at all.

In tone, the nine songs and 34 minutes of Anthems and Phantoms are organic and warm and fluid enough to make even side B opener “Serpent Underfoot” feel inviting with its initial bursts of crash and howling guitar. Alexi‘s bass work, as ever, is a not-hidden treasure of the low end, even as “Serpent Underfoot” layers a guitar solo over the post-midpoint of the track, which by the way is under three minutes long; the shortest on the record by three seconds at 2:45, as opposed to the earlier “Let Live” at 2:48. But there and in the succession of three four-plus-minute cuts that follow — the sneaker-riff “Blue Skunk” (4:40), the mellow-psych bass-highlight exploration screaming into its payoff “The Heart” (4:56) and closer “Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt” (4:37), which follows suit on the quiet start but makes its ending more wistful with a slower (but for the shred), bluesy spirit — Stinking Lizaveta underscore the love-yes-love in what they do live across these studio pieces. I don’t know and won’t speculate on the recording process, though if you told me basic tracks were live, I’d believe it. But there’s layering as well, so at least some manner of overdubbing happened, and not at all to the detriment either of the material generally or the energy with which it hits the listener. It is a complement to the live experience rather than a recreation, and as a studio outing it works toward its own ends, whether that’s the relative stretchout in the album’s back half after the crunchfest of side A or the beyond-dug-in nature of the songs across the whole.

I’m a fan of this band and I won’t pretend otherwise, but while metal and prog have entire leagues of bands whose focus is solely on look-what-we-can-do-style fret runs and odd time-signatures, etc., heavy rock and roll has Stinking Lizaveta. In the fading-in feedback and subsequent siren-call lead twists of opener “Electric Future,” the constant smoothing-out and brash throwing of sonic elbows — and a bit of Iron Maiden in the ‘verse’ — of “Shock,” and the way “Let Live” seems to roll into its stops as a preface to the midtempo fluidity of “Nomen est Omen” with its nod and ascending movement through the finish, Anthems and Phantoms may be anthems up front, phantoms in the back in terms of the A/B LP divide, or it may just be what came out of the studio that particular day three years ago, but no matter where they go, it is unquestionably Stinking Lizaveta‘s own.

Stinking Lizaveta (Photo by John Singletary)

They are singular, and unique, which is not a word I often use. With the careening guitar, snare-shred and the depth, bounce and heft provided by the bass, “Daily Madness” is only a fitting centerpiece, drawing a line under the fact that Stinking Lizaveta don’t need anything other than themselves. Yeah, there’s another layer of lead guitar (probably not keyboard) tucked into the ending of the song, a little extra twist thrown in for good measure, but even so, Anthems and Phantoms is pure Stinking Lizaveta front to back, and it doesn’t need to be a departure because the band themselves are the departure.

For someone taking them on for the first time — and six years after their last record, that’s entirely possible — Anthems and Phantoms might come across as head-spinning in a way that’s hard to keep up with, but that’s the idea. The righteousness of Stinking Lizaveta stems from the execution of their own approach on their own terms, and from the fact that they so clearly love what they do. Started off with guitar, “Nomen est Omen” is both raw and high-class, elaborate in style and barebones in arrangement, sprawling and unpretentious. And the same is true as “Blue Skunk” Hendrixes toward its finish, serving as a transition to the aforementioned closing pair of “The Heart” and “Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt,” and everywhere else. As comparatively gentle as the ending of the album is compared to “Electric Future” and “Let Live” — triumphant and memorable as they are in leading off the record, and very much intended to be as frenetic as they might feel — it is only through engaging with both that the full scope of Anthems and Phantoms can be internalized. Dense as some of the parts are, don’t be surprised if that takes a few listens.

And don’t be surprised if some never get there. I’m not gatekeeping or talking down to anyone or any of that on-the-internet garbage, but I have to imagine even Stinking Lizaveta would admit their music isn’t composed or played for universal accessibility. They are so much on their own wavelength that it’s inevitable, but much to their credit, the sounds across Anthems and Phantoms — fast, slow(ish), manic, soothing, up, down, left, right, A, B, select, start — are an invitation more than a line in the sand. Stinking Lizaveta are ready to bring their audience with them on this relatively brief outing, just as they do live. If they were gospel, this would be their ‘joyful noise,’ and what they’re worshiping is creativity itself. Open mind, open ears, gird loins, dive in. Whether you’re a longtime fan or you’ve never heard them before, Anthems and Phantoms manifests so much of what has made Stinking Lizaveta so special for so long. It is life-affirming in the truest sense of defining its own purpose.

Stinking Lizaveta, Anthems and Phantoms (2023)

Stinking Lizaveta, “Shock” official video

Stinking Lizaveta on Facebook

Stinking Lizaveta on Bandcamp

Stinking Lizaveta website

SRA Records on Facebook

SRA Records on Instagram

SRA Records on Bandcamp

SRA Records website

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Stinking Lizaveta to Release Anthems and Phantoms June 23; Preorder Available

Posted in Whathaveyou on April 11th, 2023 by JJ Koczan

Pleased as punch to say I’ve heard some (though not all) of these tunes that will feature on Stinking Lizaveta‘s first record in six years, Anthems and Phantoms, and the case with the Philadelphia instrumentalists remains much the same: if you know, you know. One way or another for most of the last 30 years, the band have operated on their own wavelength in bringing together heavy classic rock, jazz and pure metal shred, and while it’s been since 2017’s Journey to the Underworld (review here), the new one finds them having lost none of their edge. Preorders are up, the links are below from the PR wire, and that’s about all you really need.

If you’ve caught Stinking Lizaveta live at any point since shows started happening again, you’ve probably seen some of this material — at least “Electric Future” and “Daily Madness” and “Nomen est Omen,” etc. — on the stage, and if the resonant joy with which the band delivers their goods didn’t grab you, then perhaps the ability to sit and fully take stock of what they’re actually playing on the songs will. To that end there’s no audio from the record posted as yet, but I’ve got my hopes up that there will be soon, and as a fan of the band, I look forward to hearing the finished album as well when the time comes. Also hopefully soon. Anthems and Phantoms releases June 23 on SRA Records.

Note they’re blurbed by other artists. Very much that kind of band:

stinking lizaveta anthems and phantoms

Instrumental doom jazz innovators Stinking Lizaveta announce ANTHEMS AND PHANTOMS, out 6-23-23 on SRA Records

Formats include digital, CD, vinyl LP and are available for pre-sale:

srarecords.com/shop

srarecords.bandcamp.com

Instrumental doom jazz innovators, Stinking Lizaveta, drop their first studio album since 2017 on Friday, June 23, 2023 via SRA Records. “With no shortage of wild rippers, electrifying melodies and pure heavy metal spirit,” says Gina Gleason Baroness guitarist , “Anthems And Phantoms is a rock guitar triumph!” Lamb of God guitarist Mark Morton describes the new album with reverence: “Heavy, hypnotic grooves. Soaring lead guitar. Swaggering riffs that peel away into lurching, angular blasts. Driving flows that feel balanced and cohesive.”

Stinking Lizaveta has spent nearly three decades building an unparalleled catalog of instrumental rock. Brothers Yanni Papadopoulos (guitar) and Alexi Papadopoulos (upright electric bass) were heavily influenced by the sounds and values of their early years in the D.C. area. Drummer Cheshire Agusta hails from West Virginia and started on piano. Regarding her sound she says: “I let other people describe my music. I play it.”

Anthems and Phantoms, is an otherworldly sonic experience. The nine tracks on the album command attention with their fierce guitar tones, rich bass sounds, and robust drumming. When asked about the inspiration behind the record, Yanni Papadopoulos explains, “The title came to me as I was thinking about how to best describe our music. Some of the songs sound like national anthems from imaginary countries. Or perhaps they could describe a certain person, landscape, or terrain. All the tunes are slightly haunted by unexplained spirits.” The band is looking forward to performing their new material on tour. Cheshire Agusta says, “Stinking Lizaveta is saying exactly what I want to say to the world. I know I’m speaking clearly because I love the people who come to see us.”

The band have cut their teeth in the live music arena in America and Europe performing with bands such as Clutch, Mastodon, the Sword, Torche, Weedeater, Fugazi, Dÿse, Rollins Band, Lamb of God, Orange Goblin, Zeni Geva, Hidden Hand, Corrosion of Conformity, and Today’s the Day. Festivals they’ve played in the U.S. and abroad include Desertfests in London, New York and Berlin; Emissions From The Monolith in Ohio; SXSW in Austin; England’s All Tomorrow’s Parties; and Psycho Las Vegas.

The band released their self-titled 1994 EP on Joe Lally’s (The Messthetics, Fugazi) Tolotta Records. Lally describes Stinking Lizaveta as “…Always putting everything they have into their performance. I’ve never seen them just coasting along. It’s downhill at full speed until they’re spent.” Stinking Lizaveta solidified their place in the stoner rock and doom metal scenes with their album Hopelessness and Shame which was recorded by Steve Albini in 1996. Stinking Lizaveta has also been recorded by acclaimed producers Sanford Parker (EyeHateGod, Yob, Pelican, Yakuza) and Steve Berrigan (Down, EyeHateGod, Superjoint).

Anthems and Phantoms features Yanni Papadopoulos on guitar, Alexi Papadopoulos on upright electric bass, and Cheshire Agusta on drums. The album was recorded at Permanent Hearing Damage in South Philadelphia in October of 2020, and produced by Steve Roche (Mischief Brew/Erik Petersen, Witching, Saetia, RAMBO).

Anthems and Phantoms track listing:
-Side A-
Electric Future
Let Live
Shock
Nomen est Omen
Daily Madness
-Side B-
Serpent Underfoot
Blue Skunk
The Heart
Light of Love, Darkness of Doubt

https://www.facebook.com/Stinking-Lizaveta-175571942466657/
http://www.stinkinglizaveta.com/
https://stinkinglizaveta.bandcamp.com

https://www.facebook.com/SRArecords
https://www.instagram.com/srarecords/
https://srarecords.bandcamp.com/
https://srarecords.com/

Stinking Lizaveta, Journey to the Underworld (2017)

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Psycho Las Vegas 2022 – Day 2 Notes

Posted in Features on August 21st, 2022 by JJ Koczan

Belzebong (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Early

It’s a kind of radical self-determinism. There is no rescue or guiding hand coming. The whole time I’ve been in Vegas, and really since Psycho got rolling here in 2016, I think I’m not the only one who’s been trying to understand just what the hell it’s all supposed to be about. I won’t lie, getting my head around it and seeing what Psycho has become as it’s gotten bigger and more encompassing is part of why I’m here. I acknowledge that for a good many people that’s just the wrong approach, but that’s the idea too.

You know how Americans think we don’t have a culture and that’s our culture? Well, consider a festival as a “we” experience. There is a collective of people all in the same place for a similar basic reason — this is the foundation of community. Psycho isn’t about the “we.” Certainly there are people here with fest-friends and all that, but it’s more the individualized experience. The ‘you’ in it is singular. You choose your adventure.

For the most part you can move around freely as you do so — local statutes and constabulary permitting — and what you see, who you’re with and why is up to you. Psycho isn’t about bringing everybody together in a lump and presenting a vision. It’s letting attendees handle their own curation. Between that and the brass-coated male-gaze consumerism happening all around the music, this becomes a distinctly American idea. The narrative becomes one of searching out your own way through the huge tangle of lineups, discovering where you need to be and when as you go. It’s thrilling in a way. Pioneer spirit. You’re here, you figure it out.

That is not an experience for everyone, nor is it everyone’s experience of America, but that too is a part of the culture of this country and a part of the story Psycho Las Vegas is telling about it. I don’t know if I feel like I’ve figured it out, but everybody who for years has been comparing Psycho to other fests, in Europe or not, is doing it wrong. That giant chrome ball in the middle of the mall space at Resorts World? That’s your answer. It doesn’t have to justify itself. You are here. Now go get wrecked. Psycho Las Vegas is a different animal. Use its teeth to carve out your own good time.

For many, I expect the ‘mad musical odyssey’ aspect means last night’s, or Thursday’s, party is still going. So be it. It’s eight in the morning. My alarm was set for this time, but I got up and out early. I might sit outside Starbucks in this chair until someone either shoos me away or I actually finish both these coffees, which are what they are. I imagine there are people’s whose chosen adventures lead to places outside this billions-and-billions-of-dollars hotel complex. I’m not so brave, apart from that one trip the first night to the dispensary.

Later, after coffee

Maybe I got up too early. I feel like there’s a lot of very famous hair around right now. I wonder how many other festivals are going on?

Kings Destroy (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Seeing Kings Destroy was a trip. Every time I’m anywhere those guys are, it’s a good day. A bit sentimental, but let’s be honest, I don’t have a lot of friends. That’s my own fault more than anything. They played “Green Diamonds” though, which is loved, and “Old Yeller.” “I know your people they hang out at this club.”

There is no place to sit in the Dawg House, save for $25-minimum tables. I’ve got a leaning spot and might just have to stay here for the duration, since this is where most of what I want to see is happening. Choose your adventure and I stand still and complain about no chairs. That sounds about right.

But about Kings Destroy. I’ve written a ton of shit on the subject over the last 12 years. A lot. And I feel pretty comfortable in saying that I’ve barely scratched the surface in what’s going on in that band. The two-guitar dynamic, the different personalities of the players coming through on stage. There’s a ton there, influence-wise, pulling from classic rock more than I ever have them credit for, and it’s been a minute since I put on those records, but hearing songs from Fantasma Nera had almost nostalgic vibes, even though they’re not actually that old. Oh yeah, seeing Kings Destroy. That’s a thing I used to do before the world fell apart.

Greenbeard (Photo by JJ Koczan)

And goodness gracious Greenbeard rock. That’s kind of their thing, right? Well it holds up. Even after what I’ll call an excess of coffee, I feel a bit like I’m dragging ass, but neither Kings Destroy — C-wolf and Carl in sunglasses like the Blues Brothers on either side of the stage — nor Greenbeard were in similar straits. For the best. I stayed up front for Kings Destroy, like you do, and moved back for Greenbeard, but man, the groove is statistically significant. I don’t want to say it’s a surprise, since I saw them like two and a half months ago, but it is hitting the spot vibe-wise. Belzebong after this is going to be crusty fun.

Belzebong (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Later again

I feel guilty as shit for being here. You know what my wife did today? She painted the ceiling of our fucking kitchen. After driving back from dropping the kid off in Connecticut to stay with his aunt for an overnight. God damn I’m selfish. Painted the ceiling. And what was I doing? Daring to see Blood Incantation instead of Rifflord, who I saw two days ago? Yes, look at my bold and unpredictable action. Surely worthy of my apparent station in life.

Blood Incantation (Photo by JJ Koczan)

As Tom G. Warrior tells us, “Ough.”

But I did go see Blood Incantation after Belzebong’s ultra-stoner riff onslaught, because sometimes a bit of kicking around is good for the ol’ soul, and I needed it. Nothing against Rifflord, mind you. I just needed to be where I was.

And Blood Incantation provided the shove I needed as well, that ur-groove that only death metal has. Technical but fun to watch in a look-at-what-people-can-do-with-noise kind of way. You’ll pardon me if I try and push back on the imaginary obligations I invent for myself. Occasionally.

Duel (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Duel, Blackwater Holylight, and Stinking Lizaveta (yes, again), in quick succession. It wound up I checked out Duel — ripper, duh — and went up to the Event Center to get in the photo pit for Blackwater Holylight, didn’t get my requisite email out soon enough and so didn’t get in. I took pictures from the crowd. Who cares? Like I gotta make deadline for The Daily Bugle or some shit. Heads up though, Blackwater Holylight are a prog band. And I’m pretty sure they know it. They had a violinist on stage and I guess that’s part of the impression, but what was psych bliss in their sound has evaporated and left behind a much darker exploratory ambience. Don’t let me get all critic, because I’m pretty sure that’s not in the spirit of the thing, but the turn in their sound on their last record isn’t over yet.

Blackwater Holylight (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I left there to get back to Dawg House — the security know me here now and make fun of me because I keep coming and going — and Duel were still on, so I got to watch more of their set as well as their Warriors of the World-worthy big rock finish, which, again, duh.

Stinking Lizaveta as revival music. I don’t know how many people were there to see them because I didn’t turn around but holy crap can that band play. They’re the heavy jazz of everything. Absolutely on fire, yesterday and today, and and suited to the kind of box effect of the Dawg House stage in a way not everyone has been. Interesting to think of both them and Blood Incantation as restorative in a way, but they have been, as kind of mirror set up to the anxiousness, pushing ahead if not breaking through. I don’t know. I had a couple decent conversations today with people who I have no idea why they’d want to talk to me. Amy Johnson brought me presents. Stinking Lizaveta played. Clearly things for a moment were their most perfect selves.

Stinking-Lizaveta-Photo-by-JJ-Koczan-1

I’ve been trying to avoid reviewing. Did you notice? Did you notice me failing? Doesn’t that strike you as kind of sad? Or maybe it’s what I’m here for? A not-really-all-that-druggy journey of self-discovery in the desert? Could even I be so mild and cliché? I mean, yeah, probably. Easily. Twice today, and that’s my review of the review. Shit sandwich.

Later, getting late

Ruby the Hatchet could’ve played any stage of this festival. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them all at this point. And they’d have killed everywhere they went. Just a rock band locked in, that’s all. Seems to happen a lot today.

Ruby the Hatchet (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I hung around for a few songs, lack of water had me feeling kind of stuck; I’d lost my bottle and had yet to replace it. This would be rectified in due time, but I was in no rush whatsoever to leave Ruby the Hatchet’s set, some new, some old, delivered by a band in a continuing process of finding their sound but with veteran confidence and professionalism. It still feels like shows are a thing that used to happen, but last time I saw Ruby the Hatchet was 2019, and on the warped scale of time the last few years have wrought, that’s not all that long ago. It doesn’t make any fucking sense.

Was talking with a friend today (not namedropping) about our children, about trying to raise them to be aware of the world around them, their place in it, the changing planet and all of these generally awful things that human beings have done and continue to do to this world in which right now we’re complicit right here every day all the time, and while I agreed with him that this was the proper course of bringing up a human being to not be a complete tool, there was also a part of me that would be okay if my kid skipped the baggage that seems to come tacked onto consciousness of self, floated through life unconcerned. The trouble is you can’t do it. How’s the kid gonna know who the fascists are if he doesn’t know it used to snow in December? These things are all interconnected, and I want little more out of parenting than to not raise a fucking fascist.

Spaceface-(Photo-by-JJ-Koczan)

But thinking about time up and down had me in a good frame of mind for Ruby the Hatchet, improbably. I walked past Psychlona on my way to get another hamburger salad — no pickle, no onion, no cherry tomatoes — and they were right on, had shenanigans afoot in front of the stage. Spaceface played after them in the same spot and were on when I got back from dinner. I knew nothing about them but sat and watched about half their set ahead of Church of the Cosmic Skull and parts reminded me of spacier, young Ween, but it was the melodies that took me. They had a multicolored parachute out the crowd was playing with when I rolled in, people came and went, dancing all the while. They pre-closed with a cover of “You Sexy Thing” by Hot Chocolate, and they were pretty loyal to the original, which is a song I happen to know fairly well because that’s just who I am. Didn’t see that one coming.

Dinner was eaten, by the way, sitting in a giant egg at the breakfast place and that was a thing I didn’t expect to say when I signed on for this trip. I take back whatever I said before, eating a sans-onion salad in a cracked-egg chair is exactly the kind of adventure I would choose. Have chosen.

Church of the Cosmic Skull have a new record out. I haven’t reviewed it yet, but I will, hopefully before the adjacent-project Dystopian Future Movies put out their next album and I’m even further behind. I’d say it was guilt that kept me watching them in Famous Foods for the entirety of their set, but really it was just another extension of being where I needed to be. The tradeoff was missing Mondo Drag, who are fantastic, but Church of the Cosmic Skull got going late anyway owing to persistent technical issues and what seemed to be a general lack of mics. And when you’re a seven-piece band and just about everybody sings, that really makes a difference.

Church of the Cosmic Skull (Photo by JJ Koczan)

They got it going though. All was well. Couple hiccups, some feedback, but whatever. Even with all that, the room was on their side from before they even started playing, myself included, and once they were able to dig in, it was a perfect end to my night. They played “Everybody’s Going to Die” and the only thing that kept me from singing along was I was so choked up. They didn’t close with that, but they could have. “Evil in Your Eye” did just fine though. I eventually wound up in back with a couple of the Kings Destroy guys — not Aaron, who made his feelings known earlier in the photo above — and that brought the day to reasonable bit of full circle. At least I knew I’d been on the right path.

Tomorrow is the last day of the festival. I know that means I’ll spend at least half of it thinking about getting to the airport on Monday, because that’s my kind of neurotic, but like I’ve been rolling without a real, written-out plan, I’m gonna do my best to live in Psycho Sunday while it’s happening, because airlines permitting I’m going to be back in New Jersey on Monday evening and I’m going to have to stand under that newly painted kitchen ceiling and hold my head up to look at it. I feel like that might be easier if I’ve actually let myself have the good time I came here to have. Crazy, I know.

Thanks for reading.

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Psycho Las Vegas 2022 – Day 1 Notes

Posted in Features on August 20th, 2022 by JJ Koczan

Hippie Death Cult (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Early

You never have to wait long when you’re on the strip to see the next plane fly overhead. That’s part of the image of the whole thing. Movers and shakers, people going places. I don’t see myself that way. I’m more the wiggly type.

The Starbucks — there might be two — wasn’t crowded and tastes a bit like burning but I don’t care. I found some THC tablet things up at the dispensary the other night and because I’m 40 years old and someone who thinks and operates in precisely this manner, I budgeted them out for the next few days and will accordingly be mildly stoned from here on out. My original plan had been to come here, get ahold of a bunch of mushrooms and blow my brains out for the weekend, writing all the while in what I’m sure would be a fit on too-damn-long sentences that I’d think were brilliant until I read them later and realized they were all about dragons and tearing down the capitalist uberstructure that allows shit like this to exist in the first place, let alone me to get away with being here to see it. The singer from Uniform yesterday, between one pissed off song and the next, started talking between songs and then shut it down. “Never mind. You don’t want to hear what I have to say.” I kind of did.

Curious at least where the commentary might start. Making thongs and heels the apparently-mandatory pool attire for waitstaff? The $15 water bottle? This is a party town. Party don’t come cheap, and in terms of vibe I’ve never experienced anything else like where I am now. Divorcing the fest from the inherently predatory aspects of any casino experience for a moment — which I don’t think you’re supposed to do, but I have neither the cash nor inclination to gamble, so there it is; and there goes another airplane — because it’s all a fucking trap and we’re dancing around the edge of it, addled with drink and chemical reactions in reckless checked out bliss. Heard Cancer Christ ripped up a Bible in the Redtail last night after I went to bed. Somebody had to sweep that up.

I think I’d like another tattoo. Any ideas?

Sanguisugabogg (Photo by JJ Koczan)

But again, to remove the fest from its surroundings, to try and separate ‘sub-‘ from culture, is nearly impossible. And the true innovation Psycho had made isn’t so much in getting GZA to come play chess — though that’s awesome too — but in taking the aesthetics of underground culture, mostly based around metal even when it’s not metal specifically, and using them as a means to infiltrate a broader cross-section of institutions. I heard “Lady in Red” on my way to Starbucks to get coffee. In about half an hour, Sanguisugabogg are going to take stage in what I’m pretty sure is a seated ballroom. Guess I’ll find out. That achievement, as well as the procuring of the significant financial backing to make it happen, isn’t to be understated. An accomplishment of scale and scope the results for which will manifest over the next three days.

Thankfully, that will mostly happen inside.

Later

The death growls of Sanguisugabogg are blending with the mall tunes, distortion underlying safe ’80s-ish synthpop, and I almost hate to say it, but it’s kind of working for me, sound-wise. I’m pretty sure this is what my nightmares sound like.

Watched enough of them — the ones with all the esses and gees, please don’t make me type it again — to know that they’re a good time musically. And that there are no seats up there. One way or the other, 11AM death mosh is perfect for Psycho Las Vegas. It should be a tradition if it already isn’t. More coffee called and I made my way out, but no regrets for having seen the Rose Ballroom, which is kind of just up in the corner of the third floor. I’ve come to understand this might just be what casino hotel resorts are, but I promise you I have no idea in that regard. Also watched enough of them to know that every dude in that band could and just might on a given day beat my ass. I’m sure they’re sweethearts though. They had Mike Gitter out at 11AM, which is all the endorsement you’ll ever need as far as I’m concerned.

Dreadnought (Photo by JJ Koczan)

I’ve lost just about all sense of time now. If not for my phone giving me minute-by-minute updates on the matter I’m pretty sure I’d be a goner. There’s a horn being played somewhere. It’s cutting through the echoing distorted noise from Sanguisugabogg and the bassy muzak and goodness gracious maybe I’m a goner anyway. Gotta hydrate.

Sitting outside the pizza place, where I’ve been a good portion of the morning by now. It’s almost a chair and it’s definitely free, so it gets the prize. Festival types are up and about by now, either getting food, outside smoking, whatever it is. I feel like I’m from another planet. Maybe everyone does? I look at people going about their business though, just living, and that’s not how I operate. Even in this weirdo microculture, in my most honest moments I never quite feel like I belong. Anywhere. There goes another plane.

In other words, it’s not the world with the problem, it’s me.

I wish that was new information.

Stinking Lizaveta (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Later again

Dreadnought and Stinking Lizaveta present dueling and likewise accurate visions of what constitutes salvation. Hippie Death Cult back this with unexpectedly metallic progressions; a bit of march from that expansive drum kit. This allows me to rediscover the antidote to that feeling, that so-in-my-own-head isolation, which of course is the fucking music. Granted, being unworthy is kind of my running theme of Psycho so far — underscored by various security personnel who’ve all been polite enough in telling me I can or can’t bring this or that to stages, or go here or there or take pictures or whathaveyou; my ‘I’ve got an email that says I can be here’ is getting a workout — but watching Dreadnought is pretty goddamned special. Even compared to seeing them here in 2018 — well, not here, but at Psycho — they played like a band who know they’re on fire, and they are. Don’t let me get all hyped up, but after missing them in NYC, to see them here is a boon.

Same goes for Hippie Death Cult, and Stinking Lizaveta I’ll watch any day of any week and call it a good day. The music radiates joy.

That one-two-three was my must-stuff for the day, which means that everything else is gravy. I sat for a while after Hippie Death Cult finished, found a chair in back of the Dawg House, then decided I’d pop up to the Event Center and see if I could shoot Wolves in the Throne Room. Somewhere along the way someone sent an edict about backpacks I guess.

Wolves in the Throne Room (Photo by JJ Koczan)

There was some back and forth — got that email out again — and yeah, turns out I could shoot Wolves in the Throne Room, and they went on about 15 minutes late but that was still plenty of time to pretend I was in a forest for the second time of the day, pit stop back in my room, and make it to Great Electric Quest’s party back at at Dawg House. In addition to rocking, they did just about everything possible to engage the crowd short of handing out ice cream. Seemed to work for them though and they absolutely brought it. They played like there were 400 people in the room, which there weren’t, and played one more song when demanded by the crowd to do so. Rock and roll show. Pretty sure it’s my first time seeing them. And they used that space on the stage. Up on amps, waving a big green flag, turning classic heavy vibes into epics. They were easy to dig, so I did.

Great Electric Quest (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Later even than that was

A little disorienting? Good. That’s the idea. Time has passed, that’s all you need to know. If you want to know exactly what time it is, you should probably have a different pass. Or not. I’m not really clear on it.

I’m probably the wrong person to be discussing Emperor’s legacy, influence or anything like that, but hell’s bells, I own those records and I can appreciate it. My final three bands of the day were Sasquatch, Mothership and Emperor. So, you know, another night in Anytown USA. Sasquatch came through New York recently but I couldn’t go because let’s face it, my life is way more set up for leaving for a few days once every couple months than it is for going out on a given Friday night, and that’s just where it’s at right now. But to see them any night, anyplace, is a win. Band would seem to have spent the entirety of lockdown on absolute fire, since the second venues opened back up they hit it.

Sasquatch (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Their US tour is almost done, then Australia/New Zealand, then five weeks in Europe. That’s a working fucking band. They played like one. Keith Gibbs on guitar/vocals, Jason Casanova on bass and backing vocals that every time I hear them live I feel like should be used more, and Craig Goshdarn Riggs on drums and a bit more vocals, and they’re just electric. Even in the years since Riggs joined — what, five years ago now? — they’ve gotten tighter in a way that apparently two years without gigs hasn’t dulled so far as I can tell. Or maybe I’m just saying that because Riggs threw a drum stick and hit me with it and I’m worried if I don’t say nice things about the band he might do it again next show. He’s a madman, you know. They all are, those Sasquatch types.

Both they and Mothership brought people into the Dawg House, and fair enough. Neither is an unknown quantity, here or otherwise, but honestly they both killed it dead. Took Mothership about 30 seconds to warm up and they were gone after that. I’d say good luck keeping up, but their grooves make it easy enough to follow where they’re headed, and Kelley and Kyle Juett out front while Judge Smith holds it all together behind. I suppose the kicker there is there’s no real danger of it coming apart, right? These guys are pro-shop heavy rock and roll. They know their sound and their songs inside out, and for all the fucking around, there’s not much actual fucking around, even in jams and introducing the band, saying hi to the members of Rifflord in the crowd and so on. Fuck else do you want to know? They’re a great live act and they played like one. It was not a surprise, but it was a blast.

Mothership (Photo by JJ Koczan)

That’s it. Put Ihsahn from Emperor looking like a black metal Robert Fripp on top — not intended at all as an insult; Fripp just about anything and you’re doing it right — and that’s my evening. I don’t know when the last time Emperor played in the States was, but I’m reasonably sure it was more than a decade ago. And if you’ve ever seen them, they’re basically the reason why black metal both rips and thinks it’s smarter than you. The Event Center/main stage tent is huge. You go outside and then back inside and there’s like a hangar and a massive thankfully air conditioned space that I’m not sure is permanent and I’m not sure isn’t. But I’d been there for Wolves in the Throne Room so knew at least what to expect in that regard.

I won’t say I stayed the entire time for Emperor; it’s just not where I’m at. But I did stay longer than I intended to, and I probably could’ve stuck around for more, but dinner and sleep and that’s-enough-of-that were calling, and I am nothing if not attuned to all of those things.

Emperor (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Kind of terrifying to think this is just day one. Not only is there a whole other day tomorrow, there’s one after that too. Holy shit. It’s not even really the weekend yet.

Save us.

Thanks for reading.

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Stinking Lizaveta Announce Tour Around Mutants of the Monster Fest

Posted in Whathaveyou on May 23rd, 2022 by JJ Koczan

Stinking Lizaveta 4 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

Behold, another excuse for me to tell you how incredible Stinking Lizaveta were at Desertfest New York (review here) and how very much you should be looking forward to their follow-up to 2017’s Journey to the Underworld (review here). The venerable Philadelphia trio or four-piece will tour around their appearance early in June at Little Rock, Arkansas’ Mutants of the Monster festival, put together with obvious love and care by Christopher “CT” Terry, also of Rwake, and while I wait to find out which record label will step up and have the temerity to put out their upcoming full-length — Translation Loss did Journey and in the past they’ve worked with respected purveyors like Exile on MainstreamAt a Loss and the oh-so-selective Tolotta Records — I can only advise you sincerely to show up to one of these gigs should they happen to be near you or within your capacity for travel.

The core three-piece of the band, guitarist Yanni Papadopoulos (also these days of Wail), bassist Alexi Papadopoulos and drummer Cheshire Agusta have been ripping various genres from heavy rock to punk to jazz to math to instrumentalist shreds for the better part of 30 years, so they need a push from me like they need vocals, but for the week-plus’ worth of shows listed below, I’m glad to put up the Bandcamp stream of Journey to the Underworld, hoist a make-believe beverage in their honor and wish them safe travels. May every audience be so lucky as to take in a fraction of the glee-born-and-glee-inducing wrecking ball of awesome that I witnessed just over a week ago.

Tour’s booked by Tone Deaf, and the following poster and list comes from social media:

Stinking Lizaveta tour

Here comes the tour good people!

05/30 Richmond VA Richmond Music Hall
05/31 Charlottesville VA Champion Brewing
06/01 Memphis TN Hi Tone Café
06/02 Little Rock, AR Mutants of the Monster
06/03 New Orleans LA Santos
06/04 Lafayette LA Freetown Boom Boom Room
06/05 Austin TX Lost Well
06/07 Nashville TN Springwater Social Club
06/08 Johnson City TN Hideaway
06/09 Morgantown WV 123 Pleasant St.

https://www.facebook.com/Stinking-Lizaveta-175571942466657/
http://www.stinkinglizaveta.com/
https://stinkinglizaveta.bandcamp.com

Stinking Lizaveta, Journey to the Underworld (2017)

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Notes From Desertfest New York 2022: Night 3 at the Knockdown Center

Posted in Reviews on May 16th, 2022 by JJ Koczan

desertfest new york 2022 sunday

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

Greenbeard 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Left Lane Cruiser 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Mother Iron Horse 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Big Business 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Stinking Lizaveta 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Dead Meadow 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

High Reeper 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Red Fang 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

Telekinetic Yeti 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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

High on Fire 1 (Photo by JJ Koczan)

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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