Damnation Festival is upon us, returning tomorrow, 2 November for that is extreme, unholy, and revolutionary in music. The festival is Sold out completely. Among the bands on the stacked bill are Opeth, Mayhem, The Vintage Caravan, Alcest, Venom Prison, Birds in Row, Dawn Ray’d, Imperial Triumphant, Lord Dying, Inter Arma, Primordial, Dragged Into Sunlight, Gaahl’s Wyrd, Gost, Voices, Blood Red Throne, Jo Quail and Carnation, and more.Continue reading
Ihsahn, who will see the release of his new album this week, has been announced as the first headliner for Damnation Festival 2018, set to take place this November in Leeds, UK. Batushka, The Ocean, and Fukpig has also been named with twenty-three more bands to be added in the coming months. The festival has sold out four years in a row, and tickets are on sale now for this years’ edition. More details and a link to ticket options can be found below.
After bumping into three-quarters of Undersmile who by their own admission were now “on a band outing”, it was time for tea, and also to enjoy half an hour with our “Pressed out” esteemed UK Editor. As Diego Costa massacred a defender’s facial features (odd that…) on the big screen, the magnificent Old Bar provided wondrous sustenance in the form of a chilli dog, death burger and storming IPAs for just around £15.00.
This was all damaged in time to witness one of the final showings of the majestic Altar of Plagues, a band still vital, still relevant, always adored and fully compelling. The Blackened Industrial outfit caused the first real queue into Eyesore, testament to the appeal of the Irishmen who showed with mind-blowing creativity and a little more action (plus a real drummer) what C.R.O.W.N. could have achieved. It was almost impossible to see through the – yes, you guessed it – ridiculous light display, but the drama that the Boys infused into all by the inflections of their riffs was impossible to ignore. Leaning on the cabs of the mixing desk it’s staggering to see the calm yet assured way mixers Johnny and Harry help to make this all sound so dynamic: indeed, as the impossibly youthful James Kelly issues a subtle “cheers Leeds”, you’re nevertheless almost unsure who to watch next. Especially as there were no flashing lights emanating from the lesser-known duo…the swell of the closing coda was a fitting climax to a blinding set in more ways than one.
The second journalist to take the stage today, Nick Ruskell’s Witchsorrow plied forth their Electric Wizard-esque Doom which, though musically strong and ripping through the packed room, is not augmented by Ruskell’s limited vocal and rather unimaginative stage banter [PQ].
Last year, Icelandic post-rockers Solstafir walked away with all the (non-Bolt Thrower) plaudits, with the second stage unable to contain their emotive, powerful epics, punters locked out and the room filled to bursting. Invited back to sprinkle their magic dust over the main stage, once again Aðalbjörn Tryggvason holds Leeds University effortlessly in the palm of his hands, their beautiful, lapping, and pervasive striking hymns swirling and rapturously received [ST]
Listening to Colin van Eeckhout, however, is like listening to a tormented angel. First harmonising in Benedictine style, then screaming in twisted agony. Barefoot and in shorts, he sprang as the incredible Amenra reduced the hall violently to tears in an instant; Eeckhout facing backwards, bounding and screaming maniacally whilst vast swathes of post-Black Metal crashed about him. There were few flashing lights here: just a black-and-white backdrop flickering between speeding clouds, rippling water and Flanders fields-style explosions. The drama, the mysticism, was as potent as the sparing chords shimmering from the guitars of the frankly alarming Levy Seynaeve: van Eeckhout’s head bowed, the aching wounds apparent in the ensuing screams. Halfway through ‘Nowena 9|10’, he spun and faced us ever so briefly, and the image was complete. Subsequently removing his t-shirt as he knelt toward the drums for the unnerving ‘Boden’, the tension and empathy could be touched. Shattered, spent bodies were somehow stood absorbing every last increase of sound. All bar the knelt, bowed body of the greatest living ball of intensity I’ve ever encountered.
Amenra were beyond moving and I’m unashamed to say that I was violently sobbing as I rocked back and forth with the troubling yet transcendent experience.
Robbie is in his fifties, and took his security role seriously yet with a degree of deadpan which endears him to the punter. “There’s never any bother here. Well, apart from it killing mi legs” he reflected with a cheeky yet droll sarcasm. Directing entry to both the Terrorizer and ‘Mine areas, it was an intense yet obviously enjoyable role for him.
Meanwhile, at ‘Mine, it was hard misfortune that saw arguably the UK’s best Occult Doom band slotted in between two of the best live draws in World metal, and clashing with High On Fire. As a result, the dungeon was half-full for a crushing set from The Wounded Kings. An atmospheric experimentalism married with a pulverising groove, Steve Mills’ solos were a real breath of air whilst George Birch’s oscillating vocal is almost unique, Pete Steele-like; his guitar squealing, his shapes mesmeric, the man has grown into a consummate frontman. It was great to see the two old friends duelling together in what is now a real unit, with closing track ‘The Message’ a whirling mass of pulsating noise.
Primordial at Damnation Festival 2015. Photo Credit: Rich Price
And so to the Greatest Band in the World™. Certainly, surely, the greatest frontman. It’s staggering that there’s room at all to get in to see Primordial, but thank the Heavy Metal Gods that there were a few slivers for a chubby dude to slip in to. “We meet again!” hollers Nemtheanga after a rapturously received ‘Where Greater Men Have Fallen’, and once more a rapt throng is in the palm of his hand – if there was ever any doubt. ‘Babel’s Tower’ saw a worshipping collective almost motionless as they dropped on every word, every dramatic itonation, every plaintive act of defiance, every indelible scream. “Everywhere I look I see old friends” uttered a typically effusive Alan Averill, subsequently leading the audience participation of ‘As Rome Burns’, a powerhouse which grabbed all in roared intonations. The euphoric yet moving ‘Wield Lightning to Split the Sun’ had Averill beckoning and clawing his belly with wrought passion, asking the usual question: “Are You With Us?!”
As ever, as One, we were.
As is always the case, the closing band on the ‘Mine stage was half-attended. As always it was a big miss for the ovine hordes. Tonight 40 Watt Sun were minimalist, light yet crushing, and utterly heartbreaking. This band transcends Doom heaviness, Post musicality, Shoegaze emotion, and Folk personification, to create a chilled yet pained entity which simultaneously relaxed and tweaked every synapse and demanded to be heard and enjoyed. Patrick Walker delicately strummed his guitar, whilst his edgy Folk voice shattered the soul with its poignancy. And still, people didn’t shut the fuck up. The delight is that new songs were being played, the second of which – if Walker’s hushed whisper is to be correctly interpreted – was called ‘Beyond You’. It’s arguable whether such pared-back, Funereal balladry belongs at such an event, but not for the lachrymose souls like myself and what seems like most of the Belgian contingent, one of whom tells me to ‘Ssh’ quite vehemently as I’m instructing a fellow watcher to do the same; go figure… ‘Carry Me Home’ was received like a long lost friend and intoned lovingly and emotionally; there was a growing fear that the early finish was permanent before the trio returned to deliver a hackle-raising ‘Restless’ which, in true ’Queen in Rio’ fashion, was sung emotionally and lustily to Walker for the most poignant, tear-inducing end to a night I’ve ever been a part of [PQ].
The reason for the thinner crowd than deserved for 40 Watt Sun? A triumphant conquering from Swedish legends, and festival headliners, At The Gates; a barnstorming non-stop roil of jagged riffs and powerhouse anthems spilling forth in a slew of genuine metal classics. Liberally sprinkling the set with visits to last years At War With Reality (Century Media) showed the newest addition to their canon more than holds its own in the presence of greatness.
And if you wanted extreme metal greatness, you got it. ‘Death And The Labyrinth’ begat ‘Slaughter Of The Soul’ running headlong into ‘Cold’ in a set opening par excellence and par violence, matched only when ‘Under A Serpent Sun’ vomited into ‘Windows’ into a vitriolic ‘Suicide Nation’. Elsewhere ‘Nausea’ brought the sickness, and ‘The Book Of Sand’, amongst others, crushed as ATG delivered their strongest live performance on these sceptre isles since reforming.
As the beers (by now the in-venue piss of Red Stripe) flowed as quickly as the riffs, an encore of ‘Blinded By Fear’ and an unbelievably scything ‘Kingdom “Fucking” Gone’ devastated, before the fuck you of ‘The Night Eternal’ sent the throng home sated in HEAVY metal brilliance. [ST]
Damnation is always one big rush: for fan, organiser, band member, reviewer, and every one of those wonderful unsung heroes that help to run the day. That situation is made worthy by the realisation of the anticipation: all of the friendships forged throughout the day; the fan rubbing shoulders and glasses with the performer; the scribe meeting old friends in the form of fellow scribes, interviewees and Legends. For all of the magical days on a Metal fan’s calendar, there aren’t many to compare with the sheer enjoyment and camaraderie of this first Saturday in November. Amenra didn’t so much steal this one as clutch it to their fractured breasts for all eternity, but there were many more acts making this one so special. This has to be the greatest value-for-money exercise around right now, and the small but heroically dedicated band of organisers has left itself one massive, collective headache to work out how to match this for next year [PQ].
WORDS BY PAUL QUINN
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICH PRICE
Half an hour after doors opened to the latest instalment of what is surely one of Europe’s premier indoor Metal festivals, my gig buddies and I witnessed a spotty oik giving lip to a (albeit somewhat intolerant) doorman; meanwhile, one or two of said security bod’s less experienced colleagues were being unnecessarily stringent in barring perfectly acceptable entries to the Leeds university Old Bar. Youth, it would seem, is not always the desirable status us old’uns seem hell-bent on recreating…
As if to prove a point, the experienced boys of Colchester’s The King Is Blind ripped the Terrorizer stage a new one with their Blackened Death Doom hybrid and, in doing so, gave Damnation 2015 a fiery opening. The initial crowd had bred tenfold by the end of opener ‘Devoured’, and it was obvious from frontman Stephen John Tovey’s grinning visage that this was as enjoyable for the protagonists. Tovey threw horns with gay abandon and the band produced drops with the weight of a crash of rhino. New track ‘Genesis Refracted’ was lapped up by a crowd which needed a little time to get going, but eventually whipped up a small but vicious ‘pit’.
Undersmile had the crowd to themselves in the day’s only ‘non-clash’ slot on the Electric Amphetamine (referred to as the ‘Mine), third, stage, and every note of their shuddering Grunge Drone splintered bone. The screamed “Swim on” refrain of set opener ‘Atacama Sunburn’ disembowelled, the bewitching defiled dolls Hel Sterne and Taz Corona-Brown holding court whilst rhythm partners Olly Corona-Brown and Tom McKibbin waited to deliver the crush. A snaking, pulverising ‘Sky Burial’ concluded a hypnotising yet visceral set and surely gained this prepossessing quartet more fans in the process.
The first offering of three from the Belgian ‘Church of Ra’, Wiegedood’s blackened assault packed out the second stage, no doubt partly due to the Amenra connection, but that doesn’t take away from the deeply meaningful assault; whereas our first visit to the Eyesore saw the fiddle-graced Post-Rock of Talons compel a sizeable throng, and my first encounter with the dreadfully affecting, strobing lights.
Beer was flowing freely in the University’s Terrace bar so it was somewhat surprising to see ‘Jack and Alice’s storming burger joint doing less well. Guys, the cheese and bacon special was to die for…!
Positively shocking was the crush to get to see relatively unknown Kent outfit Ohhms at ‘Mine: two minutes into their set showed the reason. Their bluesy, low-end Reef-esque workout was injected with added spice by vocalist Paul Waller whose mad barefoot ‘surfing’ was the Heavy world’s Bez / Ian Brown hybrid. Captivating, dangerous, infectiously active, the whole band created one of the festival’s most talked-about sets.
French duo C.R.O.W.N. sought to wrest that mantle but their nevertheless atmospheric, Industrial post-Sludge was lacking in movement. Their hypnotic beats graced by static imagery it was a creative and sonically violent set, lazy yet striking, and musically brilliant which almost switched attention from the lack of stage presence – and those fucking lights that also plagued a dramatic set from Voices, for whom the Akercocke spin-off tag was firmly banished by the incredible London (Candlelight); their technical darkness holding the room in its thrall despite missing a certain mobility. Over at Jӓgermeister the Church of Ra’s second offering was laying waste: Oathbreaker’s Blackened Hardcore onslaught drew a huge crowd; vocalist Caro Tanghe leading a frantic, animated delivery.
It would have been interesting to see if Sea Bastard would have filled the main room, as ‘Mine was utterly rammed for the eleventh-hour replacement for Black Tusk. This is a band of implosive power, Oli Irongiant’s lofty stature possibly the only thing to dwarf the power of The Riff, and let rip with the set of the day to this point. Oppressive, the shudders displaced vertebrae along with Monty’s coruscating rasp, while Steve Patton and George Leaver based rhythms that would have crushed Everest. Never has the world seen a guitarist who feels every chord like Oli: grimacing, building the riff with sways of his giant body, his roars needed no microphone. Monty’s dreadlocks hung from his face like the monstrous sea creature they portray during forthcoming track ‘The Hermit’, the rare faster sections still trampling most other acts to dust.
In complete contrast to Vreid’s vicious yet occasionally inventive Black assault over at Terrorizer, Maybeshewill have decided they’ve been peddling their melodic heaviness for long enough and that’s a great shame. With more than a nod to the likes of Sigur Ros they packed out the notorious left upper room and left few dry eyes in the process: their sound icicle-cold yet sweet, nostalgic and heavy, their effusive thanks incredibly moving. Closing one’s eyes and allowing the pulses of light and utterly heart-breaking sound to wash over the head, it was easy to underestimate the fact that 40 Watt Sun was still to come.
The brittle beauty of the outgoing quintet’s melodic sweep seems apt for the story of Jim Willumsen, once of The Wounded Kings and the late, great Ishmael, now doing his fifth festival of the year as a fan. A protagonist of my favourite-ever gig, he is nevertheless happy with his lack of band involvement for now. “It gives me a chance to see loads of different stuff” said this quiet legend of the low-end. It’s also a fitting soundtrack for a meeting with Ian Davis, as former drummer of Grimpen Mire another crucial ingredient of that night and still mourning his former bandmate Paul van Linden, outside the room.
The Ocean came complete with cellist and a whole host of atmospherics, aided by my Bee 17 hybrid lager which, at £4:00 for a coke-sized can, seemed steep but it was a very pleasant change from the swill usually found at such events. This all embellished the German ensemble’s largely Prog effect but also contrasted superbly with the harsher elements of their sound. Jӓgermeister’s main stage was suitably packed, making it hard to believe there was a capacity cut for this year, but their set in 2013 benefited more from the vantage points of this year’s Terrorizer room. Ghold’s appearance at ‘Mine didn’t attract the numbers that previous bands had brought to that area but their darkened doom, like a Death-riddled Conan, rattled already battered heads. The inclusion of a guitarist gave their live presence another, more beneficial dimension to that on record.
WORDS BY PAUL QUINN
PHOTOGRAPHY BY RICH PRICE
In October 2005 a young Glaswegian, sick of the direction metal festivals were heading, realised a crazy notion and months of insane work with a raucous expression of rebellion in a dark, cavernous club in Manchester. Celebrating its tenth anniversary this November 1st, Gavin McInally still talks of Damnation Festival, now based at Leeds university, with infectious enthusiasm and pride.
I first asked the reasons behind picking Manchester for that first Damnation festival in 2005: “It was purely logistical. We had to face facts: in Glasgow, we’d possibly have struggled to get the numbers we were after. In London, we wouldn’t have had the following from Scotland or Wales. So we tried places like Sheffield, Bradford, and Nottingham, but Manchester had what we wanted at the time.”
So how did the idea became reality? “I knew nothing about the industry then. I was a fan who followed Download and Ozzfest, but I felt they were becoming tired. We had some great bands on our own doorstep – the likes of Charger and Sikth – and I thought ‘How hard can it be to find a pub to put half a dozen bands on?’. So a dozen of us set out on a bit of a crash course! I was a journalist by trade, so found it quite easy to contact the bands. Once they realised we weren’t offering a bag of peanuts to play, it soon became much bigger than the pub gig I’d envisaged! My lack of experience a challenge though. There was a lot behind the scenes I didn’t know, like any of the technical aspects required for a gig. We’ve got stage managers now so in comparison to then, it’s like night and day! We’d booked fourteen bands of a high calibre, and the guy at Jilly’s Rock World was pivotal in helping things run smoothly.”
“I almost puked!”, he replies to my asking how he felt that morning. “Despite seeing the ticket sales; the message boards buzzing; and the bill fully realised: it doesn’t hit home until you see the people queuing outside. It’s then you think, ‘Shit! This isn’t a joke!’ By that point there was nothing I could do if something went wrong: it was all in the lap of the Gods. Last year, bizarrely, I could’ve left the venue and had a sleep. Everything was running so perfectly!”
There’s a small team involved in bringing this extreme extravaganza to us, helping Gavin at various stages of the process: “One by one over the years the original team fell away, but we’ve picked up some vital people. Our graphic designer, Bri, is responsible for all the posters you see, and for the way Damnation looks online: and Becky of course, our press officer, who deals with you guys! The core is me and Paul, based in Nottingham, and we deal with all the bookings, Facebook postings and correspondence, all the day to day stuff. Then of course we have freelance stage managers, engineers and venue staff who deal with stuff on the day.”
Damnation is renowned for staging some lesser-known acts, but it’s a situation Gavin is torn over. “It’s frustrating. We’d love to fill a venue with these guys, but we have to think realistically. Fans wouldn’t come to see 27 bands of that calibre. Putting a local band on a headline stage in a 1,000 capacity room, with 25 people watching, does nothing for the band, the festival or the fan. You need a Carcass or a My Dying Bride to make it worth the ticket money. It’s great to give that chance though: Iron Witch opened the fourth stage last year, and there was no room at the back. If 600 people watch and 500 of them stick a ‘like’ next to that band’s Facebook page after seeing them, fantastic. That’s why Damnation started in the first place. We’ve only around four slots to give to that level of band so we sit around and filter through to pick the best ones. Evile, who opened a stage in 2006, are probably the biggest example we’ve had. They were unsigned when we put them on, and we can’t take the credit for their success but to see them supporting the likes of Megadeth now is a great feeling.”
For this November, Raging Speedhorn and Bolt Thrower were the first to be confirmed. I felt that the former were core to the festival itself, having brought home the first event. “It’s a personal thing. The first metal gig I ever went to was Charger, Speedhorn and Amen, and I’m a massive fan. We don’t have a big habit of rebooking bands – nobody else has played more than twice – so it’s testament to how fondly they’re thought of here. They went out with a bit of a whimper but they’ve tried other things and come back. They’ve never had Frank at Damnation before, so to be doing their first two albums also, it’s going to be an unbelieveable show. Bolt Thrower? That in itself is incredible as they only play festival or two per year across the world, so to even be considered is unbelieveable. Tickets began to fly as soon as they were announced.. Some crazy bugger from Australia’s booked flights on the strength of that alone! We’ve also got Saint Vitus and Cannibal Corpse, so that’s some opening salvo! There are four or five others lined up for announcements soon (Anaal Nathrakh, Revocation and Corrupt Moral Altar were announced after the interview), & they’ll be fantastic. It’s the tenth anniversary and we want people to say, ‘That’s the best bill of this year.”
The festival, of course, continues to grow: too big for some, who complained of time clashes last year. “It’s frustrating for us too. We’d love to ensure everyone gets to see all the acts but, you know, it’s the same at every festival, some of the biggest in the world. The only way you’re going to avoid it is to book shit bands. The only advice I can give is, if you really want to see a particular band, get there early. When Vallenfyre played the rectangular-shaped Terrorizer room last year (a big bottleneck resulting in a queue outside the doors), there was enough space for another two hundred people in the wings. It was really annoying for us, and for the fans who couldn’t get in. So nearer the time we’ll have plenty of notices saying ‘Please don’t stand at the entrance’.”
We agree on how irritating this was, particularly at the aforementioned stage at regular intervals last year. So, given this, are there any changes planned for this year?
“We did consider going to two days but, surprisingly, the feedback has been a resounding ‘no’. We’ve generally a slightly older fan base, many with kids, who don’t want to have time away from home or spend two nights’ hotel fees, they’ve got work Monday morning…I think our average punter is 33 and maybe we can’t survive for two days at that age! Why mess with what’s working and try to make it into something else?”
I asked if Gavin felt he’d opened doors for the indoor festivals in this country, the ‘Punter’s Festival’. “Well, in 2004 when I first got the idea, there was only really Download and Bloodstock as far as I’m aware. There have been so many since and whether Damnation played a part I don’t know as I’ve never asked any of the organisers. If it did, great. It’s not rocket science. It’s just getting the investment, showing a bit of commitment, doing it right, and putting on a product for fans that’s worth it: offer them something different from the usual tour that’s going through town, and see if you succeed.”
Upon being asked if he is proud to be the curator of one of the greatest indoor festivals in Europe, Gavin’s down-to-earth nature resulted in a ‘wow’ before his considered response: “Obviously I love Damnation to bits. The line-up for me is the best as it’s my taste in music, they’re bands that I want to see. So yes, proud of what it’s become, delighted that so many fans share the same taste.’ And as for the future? ‘If I had a really bad year where I was shat upon from all sides, that could break my spirit: but at the moment there’s absolutely no reason why Damnation couldn’t go for another decade. I’d rather be optimistic: let’s look at the twentieth anniversary in ten years time eh?!”
Gavin is an affable, ebullient ball of energy who talks fast about his creation as if it were one of his children. The love displayed is evident in the product thousands of fans have witnessed over the last nine years, and whenever the name is mentioned it’s with deep reverence by all who’ve attended. Make sure you don’t miss out on this year’s festivities – just don’t stand in any bloody doorways, right?…