Desertfest London 2024 – Saturday
The last time I slept in a hostel I was editor of my college newspaper what feels like two lifetimes ago. My partner in crime and I travelled, complete with the prerequisite train issues, from Devon to the Ministry of Sound to cover their 2000 Annual launch party. Returning to the hostel significantly worse for wear at some point in the early hours of the morning, the room we were assigned was complete carnage – pitch black with bodies, bags and clothes spread over an indeterminate number of beds, so we opted to head to the Chillout room for a kip. I believe I used a shoe for a pillow. Different times.
This time being sober, an insomniac and a light sleeper, I can only conclude that hostels are not for me and having endured a much-disrupted night, by 8am I’d had enough. So, after a shower, I decided to wander up to Camden early, grab a much-needed coffee, buy some tourist tat for the kids and locate the Roundhouse which was a fair hike uptown from my location.
The prime mission for today’s Desertfest London, aside from the bands, was to procure a shirt for my missing companion in an act of appeasement (he has made me his best man at his upcoming wedding after all). On arrival, I was happy to be told that my wristband was valid all weekend but was sadly told to return several hours later when the merch stand officially opened.
Still, this early start meant I was able to be at the front of the queue ready for The Underworld to open and in plenty of time for one of my bucket list acts, the awesome Kal-El whose epic Dark Majesty album made my Top Ten in 2021.
After a suitably atmospheric opening, the band launched into their fuzzed-out psychedelic doomy blues. The sound seemed much clearer than the previous day making them seem sonically incredible, particularly vocalist Ståle ‘Captain’ Rodvelt as his melodies captivated the audience in a stunning early set rendition of Universe and its ‘Fly away with me’ refrain.
Over the course of forty-five minutes, they delivered a rockier set than the epic sprawl of their last album would have suggested, throwing out the likes of Moon People, Incubator and Witches Of Mars, bringing the nodding grooves in style backed by some phenomenal drumming from Bjudas Stornes. Finishing with their top-notch cover of Kyuss’ Green Machine they threw down the gauntlet on the opening of another great day.
Staying in The Underworld, it is a testament to the bravery of vocalist Dan Filtcroft and his debilitating battle with plantar fasciitis that he was fit enough to ensure Somerset’s Sergeant Thunderhoof finally made their Desertfest debut after ten long years. Opening with a monstrous rendition of You’ve Stolen The Words, the ‘Hoof was rapturously received by a jam-packed venue as the temperature soared.
Playing as a five-piece with the new addition of second guitarist Josh Gallop allowed the band to flesh out their live sound with studio-quality delivery. Lead guitarist Mark Sayer ripped through solo after solo as the band delivered a set balance between 2022’s This Sceptred Veil and 2018’s Terra Solus, ending with a powerful Avon & Avalon, Pt. 2. If the band felt they had something to prove, they delivered unequivocally and would be duly given their flowers by the baying crowd.
Having mostly avoided painful clashes this weekend, with the schedule piled up for me at this point, I had to hot-foot it back up to the Roundhouse in literally no time to try and squeeze in some of Acid King after falling in love with their Beyond Vision album last year.
As I speed walked through the Camden throng, I got a dread feeling in my foot. Having opted in the heat to sport a pair of metrosexual trainer socks, the ball of my left foot began to form a sizeable blister, which I can only conclude would lead to Minister For Common Sense Esther McVey lecturing me on the properties of good sensible British full lengths (apologies to our international audience unaware of the crumbling dystopian nightmare gripping the UK right now).
I limped into the venue in time for Mind’s Eye (I think) before the bemused and frustrated band promptly finished and left the stage.
Beset by the technical difficulties that had plagued the Roundhouse and in order for them to sort it out, the band’s set was pushed back to 5.30pm, this gave me time to secure my precious items of merch but sadly meant I had to miss the rescheduled return having set my heart on another one of my top acts from last year, Connecticut’s Fires In The Distance.
Briefly stopping at the nearest convenience store for painkillers and blister pads (where else can you get this level of pediatry coverage other than The Sleeping Shaman?) I made it down to the absolutely busting Devonshire Arms for an odyssey into melodic deathly doom metal.
Playing tracks such as Harbingers, Wisdom Of Falling Leaves and Idiopathic Despair from their incredible Air Not Meant For Us as well as offerings from their Echoes In Deep November debut, I could get nowhere near but the complex and highly technical sound was crystal clear. The vocal interplay between Craig Breitsprecher and Kristian Grimaldi was sublime as they held the audience in the palm of their hand. The whole place was head-banging along to the obvious delights of the band who vowed to be back.
Next, I had intended to catch New Zealand’s heavy psych two-piece Earth Tongue at The Black Heart, but upon arrival, I ran into the Sergeant Thunderhoof boys soaking in the festival atmosphere and deserved plaudits meaning I ended up chatting gear, band financing, the logistics of their crowd-funded Vegas show next year and Welsh stoner icons Acrimony.
This meant the next entry in my dance card was fellow Somerset-dwelling ass-kickers Duskwood, who blew me away with 2022’s The Last Voyage on Ripple Music. In what turned out to be the low-key set of the day (if not weekend for me), the four piece slammed through a set that contained heroic vocal reverb, heavy bass rumbling, wah pedal abuse and enough cowbell to please even THE Bruce Dickinson.
Smashing out numbers like Gammon Lord, Deathproof, Space Craft and Nomad, the band turned the small room into a gleeful moshpit with beer flying, punters pogoing and even a dude in a rooster costume crowd surfing. Duskwood were a pure and unadulterated joy from start to finish.
Absolutely buzzing from that I schlepped back up to the Roundhouse for the third and final time to see Mike Muir’s Suicidal Tendencies. Knackered and sporting an increasingly dodgy wheel, I opted for a seat on the balcony to watch the global premiere of the first-ever official music video of Thin Lizzy’s Whiskey In The Jar. Not learning this snippet of information until the following day, I will say I was a little confused thinking it was the intro for the California crossover band’s set, but no matter, it was a nice interlude.
When Suicidal Tendencies did hit the stage there was an immediate moshpit. The sound wasn’t perfect but given the technical difficulties earlier in the day it didn’t matter to the excited, rabid crowd who had been patiently waiting for the band’s UK return.
In a set packed with frenzied chaos and crowd-pleasing hits such as War Inside My Head, Freedumb, Alone and Possessed To Skate, Muir played the part of ringmaster; a constantly moving (and talking) ball of energy with messages of positive reinforcement, humour (I’m the Gallagher brother they don’t admit to) he encouraged the fervent crowd to join in at every opportunity.
Opening the biggest cyco pit I’ve possibly seen and watching bodies smash headlong into each other was a spectacular sight before the band concluded with a quality 1-2 knockout of How Will I Laugh Tomorrow and Where’s The Truth?
Judging by the talk on Sunday, I should have tried to catch the tail end of Wet Cactus at The Black Heart on the way back to the hostel, but after another long happy and busy day, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak and my bed was calling as I limped home, inexplicably humming Masters Of Reality’s Third Man On The Moon over and over again.
Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden
