This was the day. After four years of attending Desertfest, this year I felt what everyone reports: the warmth of community. I wasn’t just coming for a day to liberate some stress, I wasn’t there even remotely just for myself. This Desertfest edition, I had friends making their Desertfest debut on stage, I had the MJB team, I had people who I’ve come to know through countless gigs across genres across London. This was a family affair and I’m sure I wasn’t the only one feeling it. Green Lung, whose story was born in the balcony of the Roundhouse 10 years ago, is testament to that. So let’s jump right into some memory-making moments. Rux
Okay You Win
Packed to bursting and not giving an inch for the whole set, London’s Okay You Win win from the get-go. They are recognisable figures of the local heavy scene, not only as musicians, but especially as team players. Vocalist Dave, when not hitting tenor notes, puts on countless shows with local and under-represented bands under the Civil War banner and even during the set shouts out the Desertfest Loners group (for people who wanna make friends at the festival!), and so the room is full of friends and bands, come to support those who supported them before. That feeling of camaraderie is warm and fuzzy, and the music too is searing hot and fuzzed out plenty. A song as caffeinated as ‘Red Flag’ just about kicked off a circle pit. I particularly loved that they let it breathe with ‘The Greatest Lie’, which only made the fretwork of Ryan on guitar on ‘End of Days’ stand out even more. And while I couldn’t really see the band from where I was, I sure as hell could always see Dave, climbing on whatever amp was available nearby. Theirs is stadium-level anthemic music, distilled and made even more resonant in the small confines of the Black Heart.
Their debut album is out June 26th from Blues Funeral; get ready for it, it’s gonna be epic. Rux
Molten Slag
An axe-wielding heavy metal rock band from South London created quite a stir on a Saturday afternoon. True to the event’s tradition, you have to queue at least once at the Black Heart’s stairs, fighting for breath and space, and this is a massive compliment to whomever is performing there. People were drawn to their heavy metal, which is mixed with a thick sludge that made the floor feel like lava. In keeping with a theme that draws straight from the ’70s, looking over the stage had you questioning which era we were in. Just before the festival, the band released their debut album, Hot Metal, which carries that authentic sound of the past, like a cassette tape that sat around in a drawer for a long time, giving it a classic vintage feel. Nat
Wytch Hazel
Keeping in theme with the main act of the day, Wytch Hazel (not to be confused with the shoegaze pop artist Witch Hazel) showcase their aesthetic sensibility as one also derived from history, namely crusaders. Over five albums, they take Christian concepts and the rhythm of epic poetry to create a 21st century answer to the odes and psalms of early heroic cosmology. It’s incredibly confident music and undeniably rousing, especially ‘The Citadel’, with its awesome bass groove and the yearning chorus of “I will never belong”. Paired with their outfits and soft fluffy gorgeous hair, the effect is nothing short of ethereal. I walked in as a stranger and walked out humming like a bird. Rux
Inhuman Nature
These guys kicked things up a notch or ten as an opening act at the Roundhouse. For anyone who needed a bit of a pick-me-up, they came at just the right time. With their fast-paced thrash rhythms and heavy breakdowns, Inhuman Nature was a bit of a rogue act that weekend. Last year, they dropped their sophomore album, Greater Than Death, which was a superb addition to the genre’s countless crushing discogs and surely a future classic, because let’s face it, the days of them lurking in the underground are almost over. They can easily shake everyone’s boots from larger stages. The intense guitar solos sprinkled throughout quite a few songs created tasty metallic and melodic moments, played out with such ease and flair that they really captivated the audience’s attention, pulling fists up into the air in an expression of pure joy. Saturday was quite politically charged in the capital, with countless protests happening in the city centre. It was great to hear some words of support and empathy toward people suffering in war-torn regions of the world like Palestine. Nat
Elephant Tree
Despite historically not touring a great deal, Elephant Tree has become a bit of a cult hit in the Desertfest circles over the years – proven by the large lively audience that fills up the Roundhouse, despite the band not having played a show outside of Desertfest London since 2019 (!) – it’s clear the momentum is building for them inside this niche but dedicated festival audience. They certainly don’t shy away from a big riff, and the audience don’t shy away from it either with a sea of headbangers ebbing and flowing through the music. Grace
Khost
Every Desertfest I end up at an industrial metal gig and every time I note the same oxymoron: how relaxing it feels. The pounding rhythmic patterns register as lulling, the wall of noise slowly filters out into white noise and, in the heat of the Underworld that for once feels like cozy respite from the rain, I sink into an armchair and let the Khost chaos waves wash over me, one wall tremor at a time. By the end of the set, the slow whispered chant feels like a mother’s kiss before restful sleep. Maybe not how the Birmingham natives would expect to be described, but it’s how it landed in my synapses. More, please. Rux
Dromos
The Dev on Saturday, just like the day before, looked almost as if the clouds for the never-ending overcast were made there. Dromos brought a deep thunder, making the space feel like you were in the middle of a giant storm up in the high mountains. It felt extreme and powerful, a true force of despair. From where I was standing, I could see a shining gauntlet from a knight’s armor, glistening in the faint light of the overhead lamps. It was raised at times, commanding respect. The distorted, deep sounds shook the walls, with the vocals sounding as if they were emerging straight from hell. Don’t miss them next time. Nat
Abrams
Denver representing again! God, they make ’em strong out there. Today it’s Abrams, the stuff of loud rock dreams. Just like Hashtronaut on Friday, their opening songs make me think I’m in for a noise band playing with atonal composition, but from that flash flood of heavy metal double bass drums, maxed out distortion and awe emerges the steadier rhythm of sludgey doom (is it hardcore? Grunge? Does it matter when it sends you headbanging anyway?). I can’t help hearing early Chester Bennington in Zachary Amster, the raw edge of his voice shredding without losing an ounce of honesty or intensity. It took me by surprise. Between myself and the bar staff at the back of the Black Heart, I don’t know who has having a greater time, barely containing our delight at the onslaught of sound. Come back soon, guys! Rux
Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs Pigs
I want to scream their name out in full whenever anyone asks me what my favorite act of the day was. Pigs x7 is something else. Listening to their set live for the first time hooked me in so much that I never wanted it to end. This was pure, raging power beaming off that stage. Emotion was pouring out of every single pore, and every drop of sweat carried the insanity of their tracks. This is the kind of band that doesn’t need too many gimmicks; their sound can comfortably fill any space. I felt the same things I did when I saw Chat Pile live last year over at Hellfest. Perhaps my memory was triggered by the frontman rocking short shorts and running around barefoot across the stage, or perhaps it was simply admiring that absolute “not giving a fuck” energy. What they managed to do on the big stage was ditch the polished headline-act attitude and fill the Roundhouse with so much fuzz that it started to get to everyone’s heads. The crowd was mincing, mixing, and churning. I saw many take their tees off, with sweaty bodies sliding off each other in the pit. Nobody cared; it was the music and them against the world. Their fifth studio album, Death Hilarious, had the most airtime during their hour set, for which I was grateful, as this was one of the best albums the doom metal scene produced last year, and hearing it blasting in such a massive space was a real treat. If you haven’t jumped on Pigs x7 yet, this is your sign. Nat
You know, if hell was Matthew Baty yelling at me at the top of his lungs as I pull and drag myself over the churning bodies of a roaring pit, it wouldn’t be half that bad. In the flashing red and blue lights, to a long unending scream fed by my feverish half-delusional imagination, the bodies of the crowdsurfers emerge from a sea of uplifted hands like it’s a scene from a shipwreck, like some extreme interpretation of Stravinsky’s Rites of Spring. It’s so aesthetically horrifying, I don’t think I’ll ever forget that. Rux
Green Lung
This Desertfest edition was Green Lung’s, no questions asked. From the hundreds of people sporting their shirts to the sneaky preview poster glued next to the Underworld announcing their autumn tour, the tension in the air building up to their set was thick and made only thicker by Pigs x7. You could barely move sideways in the Roundhouse, the whole festival had descended upon it to watch maybe the greatest success story in DSF London’s history.
Since 2017, Green Lung have been building their lore and cult-like following through four acclaimed albums (This Heathen Land being hailed as one of the best metal albums of the decade by MetalHammer). Folklore, animism, witchcraft and the occult all come together in the proverbial pot with such delicious riffage and pounding drumbeats as to become something quite irresistible for such a lover of all things symbolic as I am. And it’s a delight to watch a band that not only is mixed to perfection, but also looks good (yes please, more men looking this snatched on stage, thank you) and clearly feels so good to be writing this chapter to their story.
In a set full of heavy classics, sung along to by three thousand people, I didn’t really know what else they could have done to up the ante for this show, when Tom Templar invites the band’s original bassist (and co-founder) Andrew Cave to play their hit song ‘Let The Devil In’ together, in the place where it had all began. You couldn’t have staged it better, you couldn’t have made a better moment of heartwarming victory, of both closure and rebirth. Then Joseph Ghast (their current bassist) brings out a saxophone to grace the chorus and reader, I am ready to leave my body. On the elevator down to Chalk Farm station, all of us strangers giggle, like “damn. That was epic.” Rux
We’re almost at the end of our festival coverage. Stay tuned for Sunday’s review with a few MJB favourites making a return, as well as some new discoveries that got us all hyped up!