Some time ago, over the Halloween weekend, amid the amok of buzzing Hackney, a select few revellers chose to spend their spooky weekend listening to an incredible roster of bands put together by Heavy Psych Sounds Records and Stoomfest. The label previously showcased some of its signed talent across European cities such as Berlin and Dresden, and this time, it was London’s turn. Tucked behind Hackney Bridge’s food courts, on a temporary yet vibrant stage, the show came to life.
Friday
Running through central London on THAT Friday night was almost impossible. The streets were packed with devils, witches, or nuns, faces painted black or simply bearing the heavy weight of the work week reaching its end. I was one of those tired, headless chickens, running late and gutted for missing out on a couple of the opening acts. I said goodbye to hearing the funky mix of Black Sabbath-like riffs and fiery punkish attitude from the Italian band Fvzz Popvli, on their only UK date of their three-part European tour. My second miss was also from Italy, the only act featuring a female musician, Giöbia, who crafted neo-psychedelia and space rock.
Hackney Bridge was an unfamiliar venue, so much so that finding it proved difficult as it was hidden away at the far back of the site. This made it feel almost as if it was a secret only known to the select few who had the purchasing power of the weekend ticket. I finally arrived, just before the third act was about to come on. The fog was settling comfortably amongst the crowd. The space felt fuzzy, much like the sounds we were just about to experience. The French stoner doom band Witchthroat Serpent fit the Halloween festivities, with music heavily inspired by horror movies and the occult. I can attest there was a devil present in the crowd, and yes, she was enjoying their riffs. On stage, they delivered a highly expressive performance, with their bassist falling to his knees a lot, as if crushed under the sheer weight of the sound.
Walking through the crowd, I had to pause; the English started to sound like Polish to me. When you’re a foreigner, hearing your mother tongue does feel like a mirage sometimes. I realised I was surrounded by a copious amount of fellow expats. Heavy Psych Sounds Fest might have had the highest concentration of Poles per square meter that evening thanks to the three closing bands from my homeland. Weedpecker were simply stunning, their psychedelic stoner rock breathing a kaleidoscope’s vibrant colours into the air, grungy in feel yet spaced out in their long, jam-like songs that captured the crowd. Everyone waited for the hit of endorphins their music summoned through meticulous instrumental build-up, teasing our emotions and ears, which took us to the cosmic highs.
Then came Belzebong, sweeping us away not only with their wild riff tempos but also with their hair, whipped in every direction for the duration of their entire set. Another heavy Polish gem blasting thick bass and creating a hazy, groovy atmosphere without the need of vocals; their sound alone was a storyteller, swaddling people like a weighted blanket. Song after song bounced off the venue’s walls, attacking us again and again even as the next riff took over. A multi-layered, wild ride, they are an essential listen for anyone wanting to dive deep into the Polish sonic sphere of madness.
Friday’s celebrations ended with London’s stoner doom scene favourites, Dopelord. We all saw them and we all loved them. With horns up in the air, we all hailed Satan once again, which is a risky business on a night when the veil between the living and the dead grows thin. Their satanic message resonated through the speakers, competing with their low-tuned fuzz that stirred the crowd into a frenzy, sealing off day one of the festivities.
Saturday
Saturday carried the slight tinge of a hangover cutting through the day’s grey slumber. The music matched the heavy heads, who were much happier the night before, hammering away at headaches. The bill hit just as hard as on Friday. I was failed by TFL again, a nightmare all weekend, arriving late and missing yet another opening act: the lovely Death Wvrm, whose blend of myth and folklore infuses their psychedelic underground sound. Once again, streaming their songs on the way to the venue was my only option to appreciate their music.
I landed straight into the sticky sludge arms of the second act – Komatsu, who got here from the Netherlands. The shyness of the early crowd was evident, but the band wasn’t frazzled, delivering rocky Americana-like grooves that coaxed even the shyest listeners into subtle headbangs. The nap time was definitely over. Ananda Mida, who was next, transported us to a ’70s desert, dripping with psychedelic grooves and flirtatious vocals. Their vintage, confident, and oh so captivating stage presence was a welcome break from the loud noise. It was a relaxing, trippy detour, immersive enough to make you forget your worries. Tons kicked things up again by a notch, or ten. This Italian group draws from their hardcore roots, reinvigorating the doom and sludge. Many call their sound a good old weed metal, and that’s the exact vibe: paired with edgy, croaky vocals over a rhythmic manifestation of pure chill yet clunky riffs, they led us toward a two-step groove. The urge to move was irresistible.
The room was buzzing in anticipation for 1782, another occult-laden Italian act, thick as swamp sludge. Their merch stand swarmed with fans snapping up patches, LPs, and apparel. Inspired by the witch trials and the misogyny locked away in history, their music felt like a rebellion, a modern crusade against old bigotry. I spotted many female fans absolutely enthralled, swaying through the heaviest moments of the night.
Next up, thematically juxtaposing the previous act, were Satanic Panic-triggering Mephistofeles, a band surrounded by lore and gossip. Truly inhabiting the vintage rockstar lifestyle, they have built a mythology that fits their aesthetic perfectly. Before their set, I overheard all sorts of stories, some true, some not, some both. They only emerged after loud applause; we practically had to summon them out from the backstage. Their set was thunderous, with riffs heavy enough to burst eardrums if not for earplugs. The Argentine trio brought sleazy, occult-infused oldies energy, dripping with horror and charisma. Heavy Psych Sounds’ newest acquisition will tour European stages more frequently.
Brant Bjork closed the whole weekend. People dub him as one of the founding father of desert and stoner rock. In his early career days, he was a drummer in the highly influential Kyuss. That name really says it all, as their songs inspired a plethora of musicians performing today, which is no small legacy. In his own creative projects, he embarked on sound explorations true to his own afflictions, embracing complete creative freedom. His performance was the perfect ending to this fun weekend.
The London doom community, ever-present and unmistakable, serves as a seal of quality for nights like this in the capital. Seeing those familiar faces and grassroots connections is proof enough that the show was worth every moment. Anyone putting on a night in London should know they’re catering to a hidden community, one as beautiful and welcoming as the bands themselves. For anyone performing here, know this: you’re playing in front of a true family, and that weekend we had a reunion.