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The Final Six Things We Learned At Desertfest 2018

From the pits of Hell to the outer-reaches of space, here's what happened on the final day of the Camden riff-extravaganza…

The Final Six Things We Learned At Desertfest 2018

After the Napalm Death and High On Fire-led madness of its first two days, Desertfest draws to a close in a state of bruised, drained shell-shock after the storm. Outright indulgence of the laid-back stoner vibes this festival was founded on are the order of the day. As with any good trip, here’re some valuable lessons we picked up along the way…

THE FUTURE OF THE BRITISH UNDERGROUND LOOKS BRIGHT (WELL, CATACLYSMICALLY DARK REALLY, BUT YOU GET THE IDEA) THANKS TO BANDS LIKE BISMUTH AND PIST

Tempting as it was to stay outside and soak up the sunshine on one of the finest days of 2018 thus far, punters who stepped into the darkness of The Black Heart and The Underworld early on Sunday were richly rewarded with a look at two of the finest young extreme acts rising through the UK underground right now. Manchester aggro-sludge nutcases Pist opened the former with a gloriously drunk ‘n’ disorderly blast that doesn’t so much blow away the hangover as leave us in a state to expect another even-worse one tomorrow morning. Unstoppable doom duo Bismuth hit the stage atthe latter shortly after, their incredible monolithian sounds drawing us along a downward spiral with touches of beautiful poignancy flickering through the maelstrom. Stunning stuff.

CHRCH PROVE THAT TIME IS ELASTIC WITH LEVELS OF HEAVINESS THAT DISRUPT THE SPACE-TIME CONTINUUM

It takes something special to make 15-minute dirges in the packed-out upper room at The Black Heart seem appealing, even as our bangover reaches its peak. Thankfully, Californian quintet CHRCH have spark in spades. Dropping cuts from 2015 debut Unanswered Hymns and hinting at the harrowing darkness to follow on sophomore release Light Will Consume Us All, they deliver with a quality that makes quarter-hour cuts pass in an instant. “This is our last song!” grins vocalist Eva Rose as things tumble towards their conclusion. A punter turns to us and smiles, “Don’t worry, they’re not nearly done yet...” Quite.

SILLY NAMES DO NOT NECESSARILY EQUATE TO SILLY SOUNDS, AS EVIDENCED BY FISTER

“Jeez guys, you’re rattling the whiskey out of my shot glass!” comes a protest from somewhere behind the pit as St Louis’ heaviest unleash their unstoppable artillery-blast attack. He’s not lying. The bass running through The Underworld’s dancefloor is enough to vibrate glasses off every table within listening distance and dislodge the fillings from your teeth. “I’d never heard of these guys before and just came in because of that ridiculous band-name,” said punter explains to us later on. “But I won’t forget them after that!”

NEBULA’S BRAND OF TIMELESS DESERT ROCK SITS RIGHT AT HOME – EVEN IN THE ORNATE SURROUNDS OF THE ROUNDHOUSE

There’s a sort of tumbledown psychedelia to Nebula’s sound that feels so at home in spit ‘n’ sawdust back-bars that you have to wonder whether it’ll really feel at home in the grand, gaping confines of The Roundhouse, and there is a moment of incongruity as the scruffy Californians step onto the stage. It’s soon forgotten, though, as To The Center and Perfect Rapture trip into life. And by the time we get to Full Throttle and All The Way, the band and audience are in such synchronised swing that we may as well be tucked into some red-rock cavern on America’s wild west coast.

HAWKWIND’S SPACE-ROCK WILL STILL SEND YOU TO ANOTHER PLANET AFTER ALL THESE YEARS

For a band fast-approaching their fiftieth anniversary, legendary space-rock kings Hawkwind are still full of rocket fuel that will effortlessly blow your mind. Taking the stage with an enormous psychedelic video display and sporadic onstage dancers, the raft of classics are brought to life with a transcendent sense of agelessness. Brilliantly, it feels that that time-travelling sensibility was likely one of the ambitions when they were penned so many years ago. Equally brilliantly, the bass-heavy rhythms and swirling noises they put out, not to mention Dave Brock's riffs, stand like a colossus next to even the weekend's hardest hitters. All hail the machine!

MONSTER MAGNET ARE STILL THE UNDISPUTED SPACE-LORDS OF STONER-ROCK

Can The Roundhouse get any closer to the sense of stoned perfection? Are there better closing-night nuggets than When The Hammer Comes Down, Negasonic Teenage Warhead and Space Lord? Can Dave Wyndorf’s guitar get any more low-slung?!?! Honestly, we’re having too much fun to answer those questions as New Jersey stoner overlords Monster Magnet bring the festival to a close. What is blatantly obvious – particularly as the encore of Ejection, End Of Time and Powertrip drops – is that, even at Desertfest’s bountiful buffet of the best of all things stoner, you’d be hard-pushed to find rockers with more enduring, infectious vitality than these.

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