It’s another beautiful day on Fernhill Farm and time seems a more arbitrary concept than ever, determined only according to the law of The Clashfinder. In typical ATG fashion, my schedule feels wild and all over the place genre wise, yet somehow in practice actually makes a lot of sense. It begins with the huge, swelling, post-rock of Halifax’s Last of Eden (LOE), complimented by side screens showing a montage of images about time, memory, and decay, and synchronised moves from their guitar players, which prickles tears in my eyes. And it’s not even noon.
Danish solo artist Iskandr may stem from the black metal world but his layered sonic atmospheres, crafted by accordion, trumpet, synth, guitar, and voice, fit right in with the soundscapes of post-rock. This is music with a soaring, liturgical, and melancholy feel that wouldn’t feel out of place in Kubrick’s Eyes Wide Shut—until he kicks in deep, deep synth notes and booming drums, filling the main stage tent with an immense swelling warmth. I feel a bit sorry that it’s not a fuller attendance, but it’s respectable, I guess, for something with few beats or guitars.
Fear ye not though as local band HAAL have brought their Big Beats with them, picking up the pace with their warped robotic synth rock that draws on Nine Inch Nails’s jagged rhythms as much as it does Dinosaur Jr’s clanky, exploratory guitar (the latter influence proudly displayed on the guitarist’s shirt). Tonally HAAL are a little lighter than most, bringing their dancefloor energy and Massive Attack vibes and their Deftones-esque vocals to an audience that’s pumped for a boogie, which a slight technical hitch cannot derail.
OTAY:ONII, aka Lane Shi, never does anything safe, predictable, or by the book – and she’s here to derail every single one of us. Performing solo draped in a red robe like a fashionable fisherman’s net, Lane uses a keytar and a Britney-style mic to bring an immense Harsh Noise Wall and pounding gabba beats, occasionally broken up by warped, jazz torch songs recalling the evil blues of Diamanda Galás. When Lane clicks on the distortion pedal for her keytar, we suddenly enter the deep synth sea, with waves of low pulse throbbing in our bones. Performing behind projections of American dollars and passports, Lane provides a target for her anger, and runs out into the crowd, still playing, whipping up audience eddies in her wake. It’s a set filled with harrowing pain yet also devastating beauty, and there’s little time for applause here—even if we knew where the song ends—until the final notes cease.
Superlative Belgian power-trio Psychonaut arehere to remind us about form and melody again. Combining the best parts of post-, stoner, and prog rock, their beautifully-constructed looping basslines, versatile vocal harmonies, and majestic guitar work make them an exceptionally strong festival band, which perfectly preempts Alcest later on the bill. Presenting their new album World Maker today, vocalist/guitarist Stefan explains that they were inspired by tragedy following the death of bass-player Thomas’s father following ATG last year. And you can feel how cathartic this set is for them.
Belgium is well represented this year. I didn’t have Ronker on my schedule (as apparently it’s sensible to eat during a festival) but here I am – and these guys clearly also have something to get off their chest. When each of the five bandmembers has a moustache and a mullet, you know you’re in for something special, and something hardcore; and maybe that they brew great coffee. They also brew up the most wildly energetic set of the day, with not a musician stationary for the entirety of the set, and I’m left with the chorus to ‘Snuff’ in my head for the rest of the festival.
Floating from Sweden, however, were very much on my timetable, because who else combines post-punk with death metal in a straight mash up? While they seem a little restrained on-stage and I suspect they haven’t played live for a while, I’m utterly immersed in this grotty, violence, which weaves aggression and brutality with driving rhythms and gloomy emotivity. Go check out set highlight ‘Grave dog’!
Alcest are much more familiar to most here, of course, so it’s a shame that issues with their tour bus delay the start of their set, with the crowd that throngs in the main stage tent looking visibly disappointed. There’s a sense that many feel they could have prioritised playing songs over setting up their elaboratestage decor, although clearly things may not be that clear cut. Anyway, we get about 20 minutes of music from this most distinctive and glorious of bands, including one of my favourites, ‘Sapphire’, which is just enough time to get into their beautiful elfland hymns before they have to finish. Travel issues aside, Alcest have headliner energy and I, for one, would put them a lot higher up the bill next time.
I’m not too familiar with The Tony Danza Tapdance extravaganza so frankly this whole set is a bewildering whirlwind of virtuoso guitar prowess, jagged dissonance, and lacerating riffs so technical you can practically see the algebra popping out of the musicians’ hands. “Whoever crowd surfs the most amount of times,” shouts their singer, “gets a free t-shirt – and next show gets a guest list!”. Well, good luck making that call, guys, because it’s frankly easier spotting someone not at least trying to crowd surf.
Shearling, from California, with their painfully loud, feedback symphonies and endless, shimmering Groundhog Day drone pieces, are a million miles away from Tony Danza in almost every respect. This became a highlight set for me immediately, captivated as I was by the band’s incredible seamless shifting between styles, their intense coordination, and their singer’s grinding bootie. The Swans comparisons are obvious and valid, and like that loudest of bands, it was a real struggle to stay for the whole of Shearling’s set—in the best way possible. Absolutely phenomenal.
Møl, a blackgaze band from Denmark, take to a dimly-lit stage when the sun has set, which accurately reflects the dark black metal half of their music. But it’s the light that prevails this time, with the band continually lifting the mood with major-key shifts and allowing sparkle to glimmer through Kim’s perfect fry-screams. This is a band utterly locked in together, with total command of mood and atmosphere, and mixing joy and sorrow in glorious and overwhelming fashion.
The clash of Chelsea Wolfe and Zu as headliners also combines joy and sorrow for me, and I’m not entirely sure that my decision to see half of the former and the end of the latter was the best one. Fresh from a relatively intimate warm-up show in London that I was lucky to attend, Chelsea and her band are on their very best form, bringing a perfect set-list of their moodiest and heaviest songs, including classics like ‘16 Psyche’ and ‘Feral Love’, early cuts like ‘Pale on Pale’, and new songs like ‘The Dark’. The sound is dirty, deep, and loud, and Chelsea’s voice is perfection, showcasing her talent for projecting far and wide, seemingly with little effort, in true Goth Queen style.
Chelsea Wolfe is one my absolute favourite artists, so it was very special for me to see them headline ATG, although I must admit that—while they’re clearly popular and good enough for the job—I was a little surprised when it was announced: this is music to become immersed in with closed eyes rather than jump around and go wild. But they soon earn that top spot; this crowd is theirs make no mistake, and it feels like tearing myself away from my daemon in Pullman’s His Dark Materials universe when I leave to join the back of Zu’s crowd. I conclude a wonderful day with the controlled chaos of a deep baritone saxophone, locked in with beautiful lead basslines, squawking, squealing, and overwhelming me with white noise of the grooviest order.
No single person can cover a festival properly, and two people covering it together doesn’t necessarily make it easier, just differently difficult. Joe and Diana’s tastes overlap more than not, but nobody can be everywhere at once (as much as Joe tried to convince you otherwise). So consider this the gap-filler: a couple of galleries of acts Joe missed out on writing up, seen instead through Diana’s eyes.
Maruja
Agent Fresco
