And so onwards to day three, nursing killer hangovers, aching necks and tired feet, today is probably one of the best offerings of bands with the most intense, dynamic, blood sweat and tears generally very abrasive and cathartic energy. An unravelling and piecing back together in the form of beauty in brutality. Inspiring a sense of community in hatred of oppression, celebration of expression, and of queer pride – so strap yourselves in because first up is the absolute carnage of Couch slu*t.
Day Three – Saturday
In their European debut and showcasing of the boisterous ‘You Could Do it Tonight’ – Brooklyn’s Couch slu*t whips up a raging storm as vocalist Megan Osztrosits howls, mumbles, sobs and laughs through an extremely visceral but freeing set. A viscous blend of sickening sludge, hardcore and noise punk, a perfect start to the day!
Admitting to getting barely a couple of hours of sleep she regales The Terminal with deranged and harrowing personal stories of murderous boys and awkward love confessions- covered in blood from hitting her own head with the mic while sleep deprived and unhinged. Terrifying and disturbing, but powerfully exhilarating with the sheer heft of the riffs (played by Amy Rose Mills on a hello kitty guitar). The depraved imagery on screen is as controversial as the music and is the best expression of disgust at the world, for both audience and band member alike.
A swirling miasma of intense rage emanates from the instruments that morph into a great lumbering beast with sharpened claws, wretched spitting and snarling vocals. Lurching, growling bass and viciously dissonant and dizzying guitar lines, with a hurricane of slow punky and manic blast beat attacks. It is so intense that the crowd reflects back the clamourous chaos with manic grins, flailing limbs and crowd surfing with wild abandon, an assault of every sense – f*ckING YESSSS!
Next up, another exorcism for the broken, pissed off soul from Sunrot who decimate the Engine Hall next door with fuzzy, brutal blackened drawn out and sped up sludge, with punk hardcore elements and experimental noise that is overflowing with emotional depth. This time with a much more cheerful stage presence from front person Lex with life affirming messages of f*ck the police, f*ck oppression, LQBTQIA+ rights and free Palestine and ending with song about healing, which broke me, and several others. They are just as jaw dropping in the utter disgust and rage but beam with joy at the crowd, embracing each other in between the brutal onslaughts of anguished screeches that make you want to claw your face off in despair, and purge all your demons. Drawn out guitar with droning feedback akin to Primitive Man and dynamic fast and slow drums spiced up with intricate rolls and basslines that could take your head off – the whole band speed up to a frantic pace and back down to crawl through the mire. Low and slow thick and fast, and quite frankly, f*cking epic in the ferociousness with a subtle pyschedelic and bluesy driving groove. An absolute stoic and vigilant tour de force which will be on repeat for weeks to come.
Another take on discordancy comes in the form of the self described ‘ecstatic black metal’ act from L.A – Agriculture, and their vibrant frantic bursts of shimmering tremolos with searing howls from bassist Leah Levinson that could scorch the earth, and sweetly soaring interludes from vocals that ascend to the heavens in the calming eye of the storm are exactly that. Another band on absolute fire with a raucous display of tightly controlled mania from every member gets their chance to shine with a joyous letting loose of expression. Furious spasms of vibrant oscillating energy, served up in the form of frenetic blast beats, complex drum rolls, frantic, shimmering tremolos and playful heavy metal solos. Driving bass lines and those eviscerating vocals that lead to a maddening euphoria seamlessly transitioning, crashing and colliding with the brutal heaviness. Having only released their debut in 2022, and this year the majestic Living Is Easy, they have without a doubt earned a place performing amongst Roadburn’s cream of the crop newcomers. Psychedelic schizophrenia with the changing of moods – an enthralling and exceptionally innovative experience that leaves our minds collectively blown, hearts beating much faster but also a little lighter.
From chaotic clamour to subdued gothic folk doom from Subrosa’s Rebecca Vernon in her solo project, The Keening, over on the main stage to the performing the stunning Little Bird, released last year. It is sadly surprisingly empty, the emptiest I have seen the main stage at Roadburn and the beautiful performance makes it hard to understand why. Starting off with the folkier ‘Autumn’ which is reminiscent of Wishbone Ash with dual vocals, wailing guitar, throbbing bass and swells of emotive strings and piano. The organ in Eden builds on the dark vibes and as ‘Little Bird’ (which Vernon dedicates to Palestine) starts to play – opening with haunting piano and violin refrains, the emotions really start to flow. A stunning and bewitching set of dark lullabies with gothic and doom tendencies – gentle, but haunting enough to creep like vines into one’s soul and really take hold of the heart, especially when the beauty morphs with an unexpected turn into vengeful bitter hatred in ‘The Hunter II’ and closer ‘The Truth’ – showcasing the raw vocals found in the heavier Subrosa moments clashing with violinist Andrea Morgan’s operatic backing vocals. All in all it is simply spellbinding, with the most wondrous display of a different form of catharsis, dynamism and musicianship.
Matching the pouring rain outside, it would seem today the storms are all inside and indeed rage on as the tsunami of Torpors crushing soundscapes obliterate the Hall of Fame. The queue to see the Bristolian trio is huge, and it is a blessing to jump it and squeeze my way to the front, no photo pit here! They are here to play the whole of the phenomenal Abscission and it is an absolute treat to behold in such an intimate way, though they definitely deserve a far bigger venue. Another sludge emotion laden journey begins, and the first few notes of the opening track bring shivers to the spine causing the jaw to drop from the first bludgeoning, disgustingly sludgy beats and pounding drums before tortured drawn out howls from Jon Taylor kick in. This album is about loss and the tone of it hits like a hammer to the heart, it is viscerally purgative and even more heart wrenchingly intense live in all its sonic splendour. The dynamic drumming from Simon Mason that could take your head off. Bass lines from Lauren Mason’s casually low hung bass that dredge the depths Marianas trench and the most stunning intricate experimental textured shimmering riffs that rise above the clamour. Offering reprieve from the tempest are passages of Lauren’s spoken word layered over an ethereal instrumental background that pulses with distorted droning, but unfortunately the dialogue is barely audible. Either way, the crowd are utterly enamoured and hypnotised, headbanging in unison, all of us so hard that our necks might break, breaking the spell to burst into wild applause between each track. A tribute to all those suffering, whether from a brain trying to destroy them, grief from tragic loss, frustration at the state of the world we live in, politically and environmentally, or existential dread – this is a wonderful offering of a chance of cathartic cleansing, the bands ethos is that of kintsugi, creating beauty out of something that has been broken – and the perfect channel for the expression of any range of negative emotions.
Roadburn are known for throwing a few wild cards into the mix and, while I admit I’m not the best for checking them all out, it was an absolute must to witness the esteemed Dublin drone folk act Lankum on the main stage. Crying out “This is our first metal festival” with a display of staunch solidarity with Palestine and of heartwarming gratitude and excitement to grace the Roadburn main stage. The Irish multi instrumental quartet play a rousing and anarchic set of emotive and dirgey Irish folk with soaring solos and stirring four part harmonies. Using a wide range of instruments including the penny whistle, hurdy gurdy, guitar and drums driven forward with the constant background drone. The songs are full of horror and sorrow – heartfelt, but also funny. Harrowing but community driven with a riotous display of calls for revolution. From their charismaticcheeky glints in the eye when telling comedic tales of drunken revelry to evoking tears in the eyes. I leave with regret as they are playing the gut wrenching ‘Go Dig My Grave’ and with Radie Peat’s gorgeous vocals ringing in my ears and eyes welling up because… what’s this…
ANOTHER secret Inter Arma set!? Wahoo to the skate park we go/race! Once again the Virginians do not disappoint and play a raucous kick ass set of their unhinged rock n metal meets metal take on Neil Young covers. I can not say I recognise any of it, but it is a damn rollicking good time, also reflected on the faces of the gleeful crowd who rock out with their proverbial co*cks out to the gallopinggroovy yet gasoline drenched riffs, dynamic tone, pace and rhythm changes and Paparo’s impressive vocal range.
I am ashamed to admit that while being incredibly excited, if apprehensive, to see Khanate, if most of today has been stormy weather Khanate is the f*cking end of the world or the aftermath of it – the claustrophobic acerbic vapours engulf the earth holding you by the throat in a vice like grip. I had to tap out, the overwhelming all encompassing sheer misery was of epic proportions and too much for an alone and frail brain. Navigating a packed crowd after a packed photo pit and the feeling of my ear plugs melting, plus the fact Cult Leader is about to start meant a quick escape. To have been able to sit back and be immersed and moved by their ferocity might have made it less of an endurance test and given the chance I would have another go.
So to Cult Leader I go and get there just in time to shoot a couple tracks in the pit and then lose my proverbial sh*t with the camera firmly away, focussing on letting all the raw emotion and brutality sink in. Though gutted to have skipped out on Khanate, the sludgy, grindyhardcore outfit Cult Leader are a typhoon of intensity. The already powerful ‘A Patient Man’ is amped to eleven in every way, coupled with his wild eyed stare, the anguished and visceral howls of miasmic ‘I am Healed’ and Nick Cave – esque vocals in ‘To Achlys’ and ‘A World of Joy’ and ‘A Patient Man’ are dripping with emotion from every pore. It cuts like a knife but is also a moment of reprieve before being plunged back into the relentless onslaught.The chugging bassline and pummelling drums are bludgeoning, and the viciously dissonant riffs are gleefully disorientating and corrosive. Just, WOW, another sure highlight.The intense energy is reflected in the audience who throw themselves around as if possessed, or purging darkened souls. Another example of the most brutal music inspiring perseverance through healing and suffering. Moshpits and crowd surfing are not all that common at Roadburn but with the ever heavier, faster bands gracing their stages it is starting to be a more common sight, and this crowd goes nuts. Reacting to this crazed enthusiasm results in a rebellious encore of new, even more brutal tracks ‘Ataraxis’ and Learn to Love it after singer Anthony Lucerodeclare’s ‘f*ck it’ – f*cking mind blowing in every way.
The final band of the night sees the return of the captivating space death metallers Blood Incantation, returning with their otherworld ambiance but this time playing “a career spanning set of their metal catalogue”. Kicking off with ‘Inner Paths to Outer Space’ they blast off into the stratosphere on a psychedelic trip of layered kaleidoscopic face shredding and meandering dissonant riffs backed by Paul Reidl’s guttural bellows. The irregular time signatures, which are damn hard to head bang to, are expertly crafted in a kind of magnificent organised chaos performed at full pelt with joyous and frenetic energy. The insanity on stage is reflected in the crowd who take off crowd surfing with wild abandon and after shooting I decide to head to the stairs to take in the whole spectacle. To have seen them grow from a diy floor show to this is really quite a privilege but that is just what Roadburn is about, and of course it is evidently well deserved. When every band is just jaw dropping it is hard to not get repetitive but the cosmic overlords truly are another force to be reckoned with. Another highlight which is just breathtaking in its journey of cacophonic brutal and complex beauty, with droney interludes – is the eighteen minute opus ‘Awakening From the Dream of Existence to the Multidimensional Nature of Our Reality (Mirror of the Soul)’. The triumphant finale ‘Obliquity of the Ecliptic’ is an enthrallingly climactic and the subsequent atmosphere is just electric and buzzing with excitement.
Day Four – Sunday
On to Sunday, the final day of Roadburn and a quieter one at that, with a less than impressive start (on a personal level), sans camera at Neptunian Maximalism late afternoon on the Next Stage. A serpentine psychedelic experience that snakes its way down a darkened path, peppered with drum rolls and cymbal crashes. Subtly groovy and moody with plenty of trippy pedal effects and reverb building in intensity Neptunian Maximalism carry the small crowd awayto another plane.
Sometimes last minute decisions happen at Roadburn and instead of skipping off to headbang to Devil Master I opt to chill out on the stairs to Grails, and it proves to be a wise decision. The psyche trip continues with their meandering, lackadaisical and disorientating cinematic soundscape. Progressive shoe gaze and noise rock with intricate layered textures of delicate guitar, and touches of jazz that flits between an ebb and flow of foreboding and uplifting sounds. The collage of artsy hallucinogenic, sometimes eyebrow raising, softcore p*rn visuals adds to the heady atmosphere.
It is too packed in The Next stage to catch the end of Hilary Woods (but that’s Roadburn) and so a good time for a much needed snack and beer on the way to catch the esteemed and elusive NL act Fluisteraars back at The Terminal. Wow, just wow – as a studio band only (so far) they are here to perform for the second time ever, and it is the first time on Dutch soil. It is safe to say Fluisteraars are flawless, a rousing and heavy blend of atmospheric and immersive corrosive and experimental black metal with flourishes of psychedelia.
Swirling interludes of magnificent distorted waltzing and sprawling ambient soundscapes spiral into torrents of frost bitten mania with deranged vocals and frantic tremolos punctuated by clashing cymbals and heavy hitting drums. Mixing the old with the new, blending brutality and beauty to result in an enthralling, chaotic, and majestic performance.
Word is… Torpor are doing a secret set over at skate park in a ‘if you thought yesterday was heavy you ain’t seen nothing yet’ statement of earth shattering atmosphere akin to the shifting of tectonic plates. They lay waste to the sprawling skate park. Yours truly might have sampled a little too much of local delicacies in the queue and so sits back looking over the crowd gathered at the stage, enthralled by their spell, slowly head banging in unison, and collectively losing minds between each track. To take it all in and let the avalanche come crashing down, while sat at the top of a skate ramp – feeling the rumbling bass reverberate through my bones is a wonderfully different experience. It is an absolute privilege to see these titans really take off after being blown away following their shift in lineup and release of Rhetoric of the Image. In the skate park they were louder than Sunn 0))), their most recent show anyway. And I wouldn’t be surprised if they are the next Primitive Man because they f*cking deserve it and many, myself included deemed them to be a highlight of the festival.
Gros Couer is the final act of the festival, and what a party vibe, an unlikely but delightful fruit co*cktail of funky, tropical sounding psychedelic rock that gets the last few Roadburners moving and pulling their last few best shapes. Despite being utterly exhausted, it is impossible to not get swept away with the infectious groove. Resonating guitars, trippy electronic effects and experimental textures funky layered with subtly whispering ghostly choir like vocals, and java drums with a haunting but playful driving force urgently pushing the rhythm on with a relentless Slift like energy. A great way to close the festival – on the highest of notes, after a turbulent journey of a rollercoaster of emotions, spanning the wide array of genres. There is no doubt so many moments will stick in so many minds and hopefully this recap of a festival like no other other will bring even more flooding back. f*ck, I’m crying, again!
Words and images- Abi Coulson // Darktones Photography
Day Four images: Dante Torrieri // Useless Rebel
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