It’s officially Primus day, folks! And, oh what a shame, I have to sit (well, stand) through eleven other amazing bands before we get there. The first of those, as has become customary now, is a highly emotive experience with Wildernesses from London, UK. “Good music to bleed out to on the American frontier,” as my friend observes, and I can’t put it much better than that. Not that they play Neo-Americana, you understand, but simply that their gentle, sincere, and shimmering alt-rock evokes cinematic images in the mind, as frontman/guitarist Philip seems to reach into his beautiful green Jaguar to find the prettiest and most moving chords from deep inside.
Blessings from Gothenburg, Sweden, quickly pick up the pace with their experimental sludge, low guitars chugging along like Melvins, forming a noisy bed on which fat bass grooves slither and slide, and cowbell chimes. Mainman Frederik has a voice like granite, growling like John from Obituary at his finest as he twirls his guitar around his head. Judging by those around me—heads-down, eyes-closed, seriously nodding—I’m sure I’m not the only person to rush out to hear their records following the set.
“Rise! Rise! Rise!” shout Zatokrev, windmilling their hair and brandishing their guitars to the sky. Things just got even heavier. Hailing from Switzerland, Zatokrev performs an especially monumental combination of post-metal, doom, and sludge which, while relatively clean and processed compared to most, somehow only sounds heavier for it. The key moment from their set, for me, is when huge staccato chords lacerate the crowd, the perfect, grace-note silences in between only emphasising the overall weight of the riffs.
Having almost missed them in lieu of seeking out a falafel-based lunch, ZAHN from Berlin, Germany, are utterly hypnotic, providing a more linear affair as hard, tight, kraut-rock rhythms drive powerfully forwards. I watch the entirety of their set spellbound—falafel deficit long forgotten— as style upon style, genre upon genre, are seamlessly added and developed over that relentless kosmische highway. There’s fantastical synth-scapes, jazz harmonies, post-rock textures, and all manner of scrongly noise dialogues. Just as one vibe threatens to outstay its welcome, the beat drops hard and the crowd is awoken from reverie and starts to groove in unison. One of the most interesting, and the very best, sets of the festival that inspires an immediate vinyl purchase.
You may well know Conjurer, whose steady incline over the last few years seems set to make them one of the UK’s hottest metal bands. Here black metal intensity, dirty sludgy groove, death metal brutality combine, yet allowing space for huge, melodic choruses such as that of ‘Let Us Live’, which is dedicated to the trans community.
And also melody takes centre stage as Mass of the Fermenting Dregs (Kobe, Japan)bring their hefty yet thoroughly joyful sound to the main stage, where scrabbly noise guitar, hard punk, and smooth doom intersect like a pop-infused, Pink-era Boris. Seeing a few worrying drops of much-needed rain fall from the main stage roof, the heavens open, albeit very briefly, as Mass launch into a hard psych jam. And I’m struck by the genuinely warm sense of fun and silliness between guitarist and bass player, who blow kisses for all as the feedback fades.
Lili Refrain also takes to the stage with a gleeful grin. Hailing from Rome, Italy, Lili is not so mucha solo artist as a sonic witch conjuring hypnotic, droning spells from guitars, thudding toms, and looping pedals. The stage is Lili’s playground, her excitement palpable, even as she clearly needs to concentrate to align all those loops, and she’s such a pleasure to watch at work.
I’ll admit that I’ve slept on Arcane Roots, so had to check them out based on the hype I hear all over the festival – and I’m immediately blown away by their huge, soaring Radiohead-tinged vocals, and angular prog-core. With two drummers trading fills and overlapping rhythms, and two vocalists who don’t miss an opportunity to dance and spin wildly when they’re free from the mic, Arcane Roots win the ATG 26 Most Energetic Band award, delivering a non-stop set of fiercely intelligent and perfectly eclectic bangers. Oh, and they’re promising new music soon.
All that energy spills out into French musician Perturbator’s set, although James Kent needs no help in pumping up a crowd, such is the force of his club-friendly, cyber-synth set. Accompanied by a live drummer, they play in near darkness, a far cry from the neon-laced urban dystopias they’ve had projected behind them for previous sets. Starting with ‘Apocalypse Now’, their perfect collab with Ulver, Kent takes us through choice cuts like Terminator II-sampling ‘Humans Are Such Easy Prey’ and ‘Neo Tokyo’, and he’s turned the main stage’s Big Top into a straight-up pumping rave…
…which could not be more different from French post-rock/modern classical quartet BRUIT≤ whose set I’m genuinely struggling to do justice to in words. Beautiful, tear-jerking, and intense are three appropriate adjectives. They move from pin-drop softness and silence to huge gargantuan flurries of sound, drawn from frantically-bowed cello, tremolo-attacked guitar, and moody melodic bass. I think they have to be the most effective post-rock band I have seen, tying only with Japan’s MONO, and I’m struggling to recall a live experience that drew as much emotion from me as this one for a long while. Please do not miss an opportunity to experience BRUIT≤ live.
From the sublime to the ridiculous. I confess to feeling very excited as the first clanking bass notes of ‘Those Damned Blue-Collar Tweakers’, Primus’s obvious hommage to the Jaws theme, emerges over the PA. Love them or hate them, Primus are surely one of the most distinctive bands of all time, and the ATG sound system is doing them justice in a glorious manner that that of the Brixton Academy did not, when I caught them there a few years ago. I’m in utter, ludicrous, bass-nerd heaven when Claypool starts slapping the intro to ‘American Life’, withholding something akin to a squeal of joy. Because while Primus are obviously, deliberately, utterly ridiculous in many ways—with Claypool noting wryly how many songs they have about weird food—they’re serious too. It’s a song about US migrants struggling with discrimination and inequality, you see, just as it is a majestic extended jam, showcasing the incredible musicianship of the mightiest of three-pieces. Similarly, ‘Last Salmon Man’ wears its political message on its briny sleeve, and features a middle eight that burrows into your ears for days. Closing on ‘Jerry was a Race Car Driver’, by way of other classics like ‘Shake Hands with Beef’ and ‘My Name is Mud’, Primus prove that they’re so much more than their often silly lyrics and Claypool’s absurd bass investigations: they are a prog power trio par excellence.
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Barrens
