Live Review : Damnation Festival 2022 - Part I

So, this is it. Damnation Festival’s grand step up into the big league. And if you are going to move home then do it in style. Whilst we were in the end sixty-six sales shy of the blazing “sold out as fuck” sign, shifting 5,934 tickets (double the capacity for even the busiest previous Damnation) is phenomenal. And then there is the bill. A smorgasbord of special sets, UK exclusives, and representatives from every corner of the extreme metal world. The fact that the absence of billed headliner Ministry was a complete non-event, is kudos to the strength of the bill as a whole. In many ways (in terms of performance, crowd size and participation, and general buzz in the room) it felt distinctly like Pig Destroyer were headlining and everything else was building up to and away from them. But more about that later. 

Yes, there were teething problems and we would be amiss not to mention them. The food queues at points were in danger of melding together and becoming a self-compelling infinite loop doomed to encircle the venue’s car park forever. Someone had also clearly underestimated the capacity of six thousand metalheads to drink and the refinement of their tastes. By 6 pm only one of the myriad of on-site bars had anything bar Stella and Strongbow left on tap. And for a venue that hosts a myriad of conferences, there was a distinct lack of chairs available on all three of the accessibility ramps. 

BUT and this is a caps lock bold type BUT if there ever there was one, all that pales into insignificance with the fact that there was no point where anyone had to queue to see a band (Potato spirals yes, bands no) and that hair on the back of the neck feeling when you entered the main room to witness Pig Destroyer bossing an arena-sized crowd. Just Wow. Wow. But we are getting ahead of ourselves, Scooby Doo swirling visuals as we shift back to the start of the day….

American doom-mongers Frayle have the honour of being one of the festival’s two opening acts. Their brand of doom oozes with sensuality and whilst they may be in danger of being lumped in with the New Year’s Day and In this Moment fraternity, there is a lingering auspice of delicious malevolent intent that makes them stand out from the crowd. Gwyn Strang may be softly spoken (her between-song banter is barely audible) but she still manages to cut a mesmerizing presence on stage. This is slow-burning doom, with a sound that slowly creeps around the room. It’s highly melodic but has enough ethereality to stop it from sounding safe and derivative. They also successfully manage to reinvent Johnny Cash’s Ring of Fire as a malicious lo-fi masterpiece. The sign of an effective cover is when it is altered beyond recognition and morphed into another shape entirely. It is only as Gwen wickedly utters the lines “and it burns, burns burns” that I twig what they are doing. A highly effective start to the day.

Over on the second stage Distant are bludgeoning the early eager crowds with their Dutch deathcore. They are brutal in the most delightful way, and combine the nastiest parts of Lorna Shore and Thy Art is Murder with the hardcore undercurrents of Malevolence. Viciously jagged guitars and thundering bass tones lay next to drum beats I can feel through my chest. Alan Grnja has the full range of evil death vocals that scratch away at your soul in all the right ways. The scrawled band name and little angry face on their backdrop only serves to complement the horror film vibe. They own the stage, obviously having a great time, and do the job of waking us up a treat. 

An ongoing subject of discussion during the day is how you remain original in today’s overcrowded musical world. There is a finite number of notes to use and a finite number of ways that they can be organized together. As Chumbawamba once crooned “There’s not a song that hasn’t been sung”. Musical evolution now seems to be derived from layering different styles and musical aesthetics together. Irist are intent on mixing together as many influences as possible. The initial opinion of my companion for the day is that they sound like Gojria fronted by a hardcore vocalist. 

But that doesn't even touch the surface in terms of their twisting and turning journey through metal's many varied forms. They are heavy and pulsating but there is a nuanced fragility to that, and they manage to give their sound (whatever it actually is) a real depth. The riffs never grate, instead, they are smooth and slide over the listener like elegant ballet dancers. The coarseness comes from Rodrigo’s vocals, and it causes a fascinating juxtaposition with the elegant complexity of what his bandmates are creating behind him. Vibrant, diverse, and eclectic, this is heavy music but without the acidity. Their voluminous feel settles well in the vast confines of the venue's largest room, and you get a distinct feeling that this won't be the last time that they are bothering arenas.

Bruit< are late. I don't know much French, but I can tell from the concerned conversations that issue forth through the PA that a myriad of things are not working as they should. The heightened chatter from the stage continues for a good 15 minutes before an apologetic accented tone blames that age-old gremlin of technical problems and states that they are going to give it a go. This isn’t just string-laden post-rock. Clément Libes’ violin and Luc Blanchot’s cello are the driving forces here and the rest of the music is built around them as opposed to being augmented by them. 

Whatever technical issues had blighted them; it certainly isn’t evident from the crystal-clear nature of the sound. You can hear every pluck and every vibration as the ghostly reverberations swirl around you. It is slight, beautiful, and utterly absorbing. The pre-gig faffing might have eaten into their stage time, but they still manage to be utterly revelational. The cello’s mournful refrains lead the handful of tracks that we get. Its soporific tones leading us towards an eventual cacophonic finale. Just incredible.

Over on second Oceano bring us some more delicious deathcore. Similar in offering to Distant, they seem to meld more groove and bite into their sound. They’re clearly making their play to move fully into the heavyweight leagues of the genre with a slick and cohesive look and sound. Sometimes death and deathcore can come across as abrasive and unnecessarily stuttering but, much like Thy Art is Murder, the American crew have honed their product into evolving and engaging songs. There’s also good variety in the tracks, with light and shade throughout the music, especially regarding the new stuff. In Adam Warren they have a vocalist that pitches in the mid-ranges more than high screaming or guttural bellows, and sets them distinctive amongst their peers.

Damnation festival has in the past taken itself too seriously for fancy dress. It has spurned Bloodstock and Download’s obsession with dressing up in colourful onesies and it has stuck with the regulation black hoodie and combat pants. However, the expansion into new premises seems to have changed that and the star of Insanity Alert’s chaotic set is a pit-ruling Pikachu. He spins, he glides, he scissor-kicks and he utterly owns the place.  Yes, they borrow heavily from early Anthrax, Municipal Waste, and even our very own Lawnmower Deth, but that doesn't stop Insanity Alert from being utterly awesome. 

They bring self-deprecation, stupidity, and mindless nonsense and in doing so they make the cavernous environment of the main stage come to life. Heavy Kevy (not his real name) acts like a possessed ringmaster.  He goads the crowd, teaches them various rude words in German, and chucks rudimental signs at poor unsuspecting sods. It’s un-kept, puerile, and just what the doctor ordered. In a sea of bearded men taking themselves very seriously, Insanity Alert’s irreverent charm feels like a beacon of multi-coloured madness

Stygian Bough is essentially a collaboration between various members of Bell Witch and Aerial Ruin. They have concocted an atmospheric cocktail of emotive funeral doom. There are obvious nods to the Warning, Paradise Lost and My Dying Bride, but there is still enough originality for this to feel like a hidden gem. Everything is unhurried and measured and the music unfurls at almost a glacial pace. This is not music to move to, instead, the pleasure comes from watching it be created in front of your very eyes. Complex and highly textured but also brim-full of fragile beauty, this is doom for the broken-hearted. Passionate but also full of despondent pain, it is in the soundtrack of loss and there isn't a dry eye in the house. I certainly found the music to accompany my next messy breakup.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos and and the IRIST interview here!

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