Desertfest London 2025 – Saturday
This year, Saturday was THE day of Desertfest London 2025 for me for the simple reason that Kent’s Sons Of Alpha Centauri were playing. Having sung their praises for my entire tenure at The Sleeping Shaman, I had never had the opportunity to see them live, that is, until today.
After a reasonably uneventful night in the hostel, where being on the top bunk was like being in a cabin at sea due to the bed shifting disconcertingly when the dude below me turned over, I headed up to Camden for a decent coffee in formerly bustling streets that resembled 28 Days Later at 9am.
Having set the precedent for buying rubbish for the kids last year, I couldn’t return empty handed so following a trip to the market, I headed back, pausing to admire the urban development in the artificial park near the hostel. It appeared to consist of erecting some sort of diving/lifeguard tower monstrosity, flowerbeds and the least ergonomically sympathetic bench imaginable, which seemed to give the mixed signal of ‘stop and rest – BUT DON’T GET COMFORTABLE!’.
However, business called and it was off to The Black Heart for Oxford’s Indica Blues. Despite being the first band of the day, the room was full as the band brought the ringing, fuzz-drenched blues of Inhale from their APF Records debut album We Are Doomed. Their southern style, grungy riffing filled the room as Tom Pilsworth’s vocal tones translated well in the depth of the environment.
The band were on imperious form as they peeled off solos and gave off a pomp and ceremony to the marching pace. Following up with a pair of new tracks, The Raven and Bloodsands respectively (thank you Matthew for the setlist assists), which continued the languid, NOLA vibes with a faltering pace that opens up like your eyes after a bong hit. The throaty melodies seamlessly transitioned into tightly constructed, but loose feeling jams before the throbbing plod of Ruins On The Shore from their 2016 EP.
Pausing to credit ex-six stringer John Slaymaker (Caravan of Whores) for the lumbering, Cro-Magnon riff that underpins Demagogue, I should point out, there were certain partisan claims being (jokingly) bandied around in my vicinity the previous night about that phase of the band. However, this reviewer saw little wrong with the set as they ended a great start to the day with a bruising The Air Is Still.
My next stop was going to be The Devonshire Arms for Verminthrone to spice up the day with some battering filth. However, I got a text from Sons Of Alpha Centauri bassist Nick Hannon saying they were in the famous World’s End pub. Stopping by to introduce myself in person to Nick and guitarist Marlon King for a catch up, I was let in on the secret that the SOAC were not going to play any of their released material, but were in fact, going to be playing a one off special collaboration with none other than one of the godfathers of desert rock, Alfredo Hernandez. As I was desperately trying to gather my cool at the thought, they introduced to the legendary stickman himself, who would be pulling double duty with Avon, a band also featuring British singer guitarist James Childs and Japanese bass player June Kato.
Pulling myself away to do some ‘work’, I made my way to The Dev to try and catch the end of Verminthrone. Due to the queue and the volume of people, I only caught a few numbers from outside the jammed back pub, which sounded suitably ferocious, and then made my first trip of the long weekend to The Underworld for Maha Sohona, the three-piece stoner, space rock and heavy psych band from Umeå, Sweden. Having only snatched a few listens on YouTube before heading to the festival, I knew the band would bring solid, mid-paced riffing, deep grooves and a heady mix of stoner and trance like psych that had drawn comparisons to Tool, Kyuss and Alice In Chains.
Playing tracks like A Black Star and Luftslott from their latest Endless Searcher album, as well as choice cuts from earlier releases, I was impressed with the experimental feel and the ever-changing combinations of huge riffs and smoky psychedelic feel as they flitted between quiet and loud dynamics, drawing the audience in and then heading for the release. I particularly like it when a band says they have one more song and there’s ten minutes left on their set as it has the potential to be epic – and it was! Slow burning effects teased out and built towards a big finish.
Having planted myself at the front of the stage ready for Sons Of Alpha Centauri, it was great to see the trio take to the stage in fetching black shirts with the band logo on the left breast. Get these available on your Bandcamp page lads, I feel this is something I am sorely missing from my life.
With no mics and the briefest of nods to the crowd, they simply sloughed straight into a number called 150 – Well In It. Marlon’s tone, long one of my favourites, blended with the cavernous bass as Nick rocked out to his right, all whilst being driven by the king of cool himself.
Over the hard rock crunch of the set there were moment of delicate melodies, technical complexity and meaty stomping. As the time flew by, SOAC showed how they craft musical journeys, forming progression from moments of almost ethereal tenderness to full on head banging bullishly aggressive moments that showcases their almost instinctual chemistry. The fact that they were doing it this so naturally with Alfredo Hernandez highlighted that this kind of organic celebration of music is what Desertfest is built for.
The band didn’t acknowledge the audience during the performance, except Marlon’s wry smiles when whoops and applause went up at the end of each bespoke track, as they lead venue from dancing leads to pulsing bass; and is there a finer example of a desert rock drummer than a man’s who pedigree boasts Yawning Man, Kyuss and QOTSA? The break fills along magical and the whole set was filled with moments where music transcends to the religious.
And for the record, apologies to the dude who thought I was the drummer from The Rusty Nuts for the appalling drummer related dad joke, the only thing worse would have been if I had actually been the drummer from that band. What a come down that would have been.
Last year I ended up slogging my way to The Roundhouse at the top of Camden three times, which was how I ended up with a golf ball sized blister; this time, my one and only trip was to catch the end of Pallbearer’s set. Two albums had passed since I last crossed paths with them, and incidentally, the only band playing today that I’ve seen live before. Making it just in time to hook up with Matthew, I got to witness the Arkansas quartet deliver their final track, a stately Worlds Apart. Brett Campbell’s plaintive vocals and expansive guitar sound has only increased in assuredness and command since I saw them back when he and I both had hair, and they sounded incredible.
I was tempted to watch a bit of Amenra, dash back to The Underworld to catch Greek metal leaning stoners Planet Of Zeus, before coming back up for the end of Zeal & Ardor, but once the mesmerising set from the Belgian post-metal titans began, it was impossible to tear myself away.
From the mellow intro with building smoke and blinking lights, they cranked the tension until they exploded with dense pummelling, Colin H Eeckhout screaming his lungs out and shredding his vocal cords, shrouded in fog as the video backdrop played out in black and white behind the band.
Throughout the hour long set that featured highlights such as Razoreater, A Solitary Reign and Am Kreuz, the band writhed with fury and boiling, droning intensity. Even when they allowed the audience relief in tender, quiet moments of almost cloistered ambiance, it only served to drive the nails in further when the vicious battering returned and distressing, decaying images crawled across the screen.
For all their ugly, raw power, somewhere in the snarling, rabid venting, there is finality and a stark beauty that leads to euphoria, locking into grooves that deliver blistering catharsis, they turn the screw until you feel that you are going to break under the tension, then they release you. The wall of sound was not for the feint hearted, but Amenra delivered a flawless, harrowing masterclass.
So, Zeal & Ardor… for transparency, I hadn’t done much research on them and whilst I had tried to give their last album Grief a listen, it somehow never stuck so when the Swiss avant-garde metal band started, I was in a bit of a shock as they threw out gospel, African-American spirituality, black metal, jazz and electronics at me.
I saw Heilung at Download last year and dragged my mate, out of context, to see them which freaked him out slightly, so I felt this was the universe recreating that for me as Matthew and his companion went nuts to the likes of Ship On Fire, Gravedigger’s Chant, Row Row and Blood In The River.
After settling into it, I was absolutely captivated by Manuel Gagneux and crew as they walked a tightrope of constantly evolving sounds with reggae like cadence, flamenco guitar and absolutely hammering, discordant metal and buzzing tremolo. The last night of the tour was capped off in style and eaten up by a devoted crowd who whooped and hollered like the congregation at an old-time revival.
Finishing with Clawing Out they sent the crowd back out into the Camden air still caught up in the energy and spectacle and I haven’t stop listening to them since.
Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden
