Desertfest, London 2023

Cross too big?

Friday

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did venture to the Desertfest in Camden on Coronation weekend, 2023. Beginning at the Black Heart, as I am fussy where I spend my beer money, Gnob sounded like drum and bass sped up a little with some guitar and vocals to make it more interesting. Listened to few tracks. Spaceslug provided a diligent 4/4 grind (without any blues feel), some of the rather formless songs more successful than others. Valley of the Sun added to this some more riffs and even occasional tunes. Church of Misery provided some sludgy, doomed themes, miserable indeed. Now, Vinum Sabbathi were rather odd sounding, as though sequenced with whistling synth effects and tape of  someone resembling an astronaut playing throughout, apparently from Mexico, where astronauts are otherwise rare, I imagine; I may need to look further into this band. I decided to have a healthy dinner and ventured to the nearby Subway

Sun, somewhere.

, where I found a seat outside and a six inch meal was kindly only charged at £5. This was followed by Damage playing standard thrash with added mosh at the Underworld. Ecstatic Vision from Philadelphia sounded like a confused version of The White Stripes. I could not quite get into them. Graveyard played a bluesy rock a bit sped up. Unremarkable, thought I.

Electric Funeral finished with Black Sabbath covers quite well, at least the guitars sounded the same as Black Sabbath last time I saw them. There was a bit of a buzz when he sang 'My name is Lucifer, please take my hand', which to be honest we did not feel much earlier in the day. But generally not too bad, though it is strange how quickly one becomes accustomed to paying £6.40 for pint of Camden Pale Ale. 

Saturday

Dressed in white, honestly.

After contemplating the anointment, I began the afternoon with Our Man in the Bronze Age at the Black Heart. This band had a very loud bass guitar and some songs that included actual singing, quite unusual for this fest. One or two of the tracks I thought might benefit from a relisten. Weedeater I was thinking were loud but rather vague to start with, but then I got into their groove some more. Very much like Bongzilla, maybe they are Bongzilla. I last saw Crowbar at Wacken in 2017, here they were a bit less memorable, maybe because previously they had made such a shocking change from the preceding band (Bob Geldof). A few were lacking sufficient beards, but they certainly like their stoners solid and heavy down in NOLA. Slomatics contributed slower riffs from Ireland, joined by a cat from Elephant Tree at the end. We then dined at Camden's new Wendy's, well it was not as good as last time either, which would have been the Wendy's in UV, Los Angeles, in 1996, where I distinctly remember much greater lashings of various spicy sauces. About the same as Burger King but the burger not as juicy, nevertheless I would remark on the free tomato ketchup squeezer, being a rare thing nowadays. I finished at Powerhaus, aka Dingwalls by the lock, where I have never previously heard a rock band, to see the Church of the Cosmic Skull. They were all dressed in white and sounded like a throwback to the new 60s Ghost, but with two girls singing at the back, easy on the eye, but unfortunately on the ear too as I could not hear either of them. Maybe they were holograms. Vocals were actually provided by a gruff long hair at the front. I liked the idea of this band more than the execution, and thought the song writing could have been stepped up. Though "All going to die" was fun, and will look out for them again.

Sunday

Short Ceremony.

Starting Sunday in the Roundhouse, Blood Ceremony played a few new songs which I do not feel I need to hear again, and seemed to finish a bit early, so I was a little disappointed. The three piece Nebula were probably the most similar to a straight up (though loud) rock and roll band, despite the name. 

Zetra with Headlights.

After dinner at the King of Falafel by the Underworld, where the grease poured from the bottom of the wrap (which is actually not what you usually get a kebab in, we noticed too late), and what grease remained disturbed my swallowing for some time (indeed, I do not think I will be returning to this kebab house though the owner was quite friendly), on the way back I had a pint at the Wetherspoon's on the lock (£2.39) and dropped into see Zetra at the Powerhaus, unexpectedly discovering embarrassingly enjoyable gothic 80s synth rock and a couple of very good tunes. 

Boris didn't bang the big gong.

Now, a lot of people had been talking about Boris, and I was wondering what he had done now. But this was, in fact, a band, called 'Boris', playing at the Roundhouse. I could not hear them very well as shortly after they started I thought I had better wear earplugs. There seemed to be some interpretive dance going on, some atmospheric songs, and some crushing ones. I fear one would be better off comprehending the concept more before experiencing this in the flesh. 

Lacking only crown.

The festival finished with Uncle Acid and the Deadbeats, who are badly in need of a double live album to better express the Mighty Splendour of their rhythmic drive, the records being a bit weedy. It was a fine finish, and in time we will no doubt be acclaiming them as royalty, of rock, not least. 
 
    

 

Eleanor of Aquitaine by Alison Weir (1999)

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Alison Weir's biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine, wife of King Henry II and mother of Kings Richard and John, finishing it in June 2020. This took a while, as it is rather long, but more particularly because the cast is quite extensive and they often have very similar names, suggesting some Equity card system would be useful for French dukes and the like, as each paragraph needs to be read slowly to get them straight. The author follows the sources so closely she starts to think like them: unless she is being tongue in cheek when she writes, for example "the fact was that Geoffrey [of Brittany] was dangerous, slippery, treacherous and grasping" (p. 207). No  insight into Eleanor as the feminine aspect of medieval life will be found here. Most of the book is a gruesome rendition of leaders resembling mafia barons, avenging perceived slights. In fact, I am not convinced anyone really knows much about Eleanor other than on which date she happened to be somewhere, and not always even that, either. Nevertheless, this is a thorough account of the bloodletting around her. 

Churchill: Walking with Destiny

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read Andrew Roberts' biography of Churchill "Walking with Destiny" (2018), mainly in Agios Gordios. It is very heavy, as I became particularly aware while walking there over the hills from the airport. But perhaps not quite heavy enough - as a drama it is not easy to follow clearly what the other leading politicians of the period of the age were up to: Asquith, Lloyd George, Attlee flit in and out of the narrative like butterflies, pretty things visible only when entangled in the web. Also some important elements remain mysterious, at least to me, such as the gold standard controversy, the fall of Singapore, and if I am not mistaken we last hear of the Chindits deep in the jungle, where they may still be, like those Japanese on the bypassed islands, for all I know. The style is workmanlike, infelicities are rare - the repetition of 're-election campaign' on p 955, the occasional injudicious outbursts against fellow-travellers or other critics - particularly the leaders of India (apparently contributing nothing to the defence of the subcontinent against Japan, maladministering the relief of famine, and advising Britain to surrender to the mercies of Hitler); an odd list of internet rumours (p981f) that no-one who reads this sort of tome will have (previously) heard of; and the captioning of a photo (no. 67) of Kay Summersby. As for WSC himself, the book is a little tiresome as it runs through the early period pointing out how episodes of his early life pointed to his 'destiny'. Indeed in whole it is not far from hagiography - a typical section goes: 1. Churchill says or does something dubious; 2. people criticise him for it; 3. the author points out that Churchill in fact turned out to be right in the end, or if not, just reflected the attitudes of his time.  This would be comical, with any other subject. Though for this subject I am not sure the author is not right. There are several cats in the book, though unlike Nelson and the Munich mouser, Jock (p.991) is not indexed. 

Sleep at the Forum, 4 October 2019

Topless in Orange.

The only effects were lights, usually green, occasionally purple, offset by the insistent orange power dots of the amplifiers, and this time we were blessed with no projections. The rhythm progresses at what might politely be termed a steady pace, but this did not deter a desperately manic moshing front and centre; though Melachi reflects that moshing to Sleep resembles moshing to Gregorian chant, for sure it can be done, but why would one want to?

The Black Death by John Hatcher

I, Melachi ibn Amillar, being of unsound mind and body, did read The Black Death by John Hatcher (2008), in 2020, for contemporary reasons. It is an imagination of life in an English village, Walsham, during the plague, though sticks very close to records from the time. Unfortunately these records are mainly texts of ideal liturgical practice and rolls from the local court, dealing with successions and straying livestock. The latter are used nicely to demonstrate  the changes in prices and demographics, though one does wonder whether the locals were quite as religious as the other sources make them appear. Although this must be the most interesting time in the life of the village, the mysteries of life and death remain, and there is nothing else, so it is all quite sad, as with most things.

Uncle Acid, Electric Brixton, 26 January 2019

Acid moon.

Catsuit and flute.

I had not previously visited the Electric Brixton, and it seemed to have a very odd door policy, involving not letting anyone through the door. However, then they said the times had been wrongly advertised and in fact they had never planned to let anyone in until 7pm, even if it was pouring with rain. Inside there was nothing drinkable for a man but Kronenbourg in cans (poured into plastic cups) at great expense. Otherwise this it is a pleasant little place, even with balconies. Blood Ceremony gave a pleasant set which could have been rather louder, and included a new though not immediately remarkable single. Uncle Acid produce lo-fi albums but here we had excellent crunching sound and even a level of the sort of aural distortion you can get with valves played at the top of their output. The projections were  pointless most of the time but with some nice effects at the end. Audience was enthusiastic at the front, tiring towards the finish, and less keen on the material from the new album, with which judgement I concur. Notable also was that I do not ever previously recall a metal concert ending with a mellow guitar duet.

Sleep at the Shepherd's Bush Empire, 28 May 2018

Al, Bass Lord.

First 'Black Moth' were I thought rather good, and in excellent sound, particularly the song about the Blackbird. The crowd though largely present on time, were strangely quiet. But they were indeed dwarfed by mighty bass rites of the Reptile Masters themselves, much more lively than last year at the Roundhouse. To tell the songs apart you would have to be a bit of a specialist, for instead of riffs they play repeated chords, with monotone chants as vocals. Though would benefit from some psychedelic back projections, methinks. Although most of the stuff is fairly slow we saw some energetic crowd movement and even a brown-robed, diving-cylinder-wearing crowd-surfer, which was extremely cool.

Katchikally Crocodile Pool, Bakau, Gambia

I walked over to the Katchikally Crocodile Pool, in Bakau, which is in the middle of the town and not easy to find. There is first a pleasant museum with some masks and information about Gambia in the war. The pool itself is small and has many crocodiles, none doing very much. I stroked one on the back and it didn't seem to mind.

La Cabane du Surfer, Almadies, Dakar

Surfers, surfing.

I visited several times the "Surfer Shack" which is a slightly upscale beach bar on the rocks by the Atlantic waves in Almadies, Dakar; where, as the name suggests, one can have a beer (about 1500 CFA) and watch the surfers. It is quite big and very tidy with a large clean bathroom block. The pizza (4500CFA) was fine and the cocktail (4000CFA) quite strong. Service was not very visible which at least means you can stay the afternoon without people forcing drinks on you. Though the Frenchies do not seem to drink much anyway. There are not many sun loungers, for which I think they charge 2000FCA. Be warned, on some the back does not adjust!