Astra Kulturhaus, Berlin

Now in its fourth year, the Berlin edition of Desertfest describes itself as “the ultimate heavyrock-doom festival.” Well, we’ll be the judge of that.

Despite its gruff exterior, one of the most striking things about Desertfest Berlin is just how, well, nice it is here. Located within Friedrichshain’s Astra Kulturhaus, it offers three days of music across two neighbouring indoor stages, with a lively outdoor courtyard area abundant in seating, beer, bratwurst and burly, excitable dudes. And what is it about heavy music bringing out the nicest people? The enthusiasts gathered at Desertfest are the most chilled out and jovial lot you could hope to meet, a typically cool and peaceable bunch, who just love heavy shit. 

With this in mind, Copenhagen’s Baby Woodrose are something of a curveball to start us off, immediately dispelling any notion that this is solely a festival for bros to bang heads at with a delicate mix of delicate choruses and heady wig outs. Black Pyramid definitely fit the Desertfest template, and they are fucking great. The Massachusetts power-trio deliver big hit of thick, downtuned filth which at times toys with classic metal. There’s ample time to get the beers in before Thursday’s main event, Orange Goblin. The outrageously hirsute Londoners mark their 20th anniversary with their classic third album The Big Black in its entirety, heralding a stone cold riot.

Returning to the depths on Friday, lots of people seem very excited about Acid King, but the San Francisco stalwarts seem to us to be perennially stuck in the same dreary, cyclical doom riff. However, they’re followed by Brooklyn quartet Dirty Fences, who are a breath of fresh air. Their leopard print ’n’ handlebars aesthetic may seem at odds with the Desertfest vibe, but their fast-paced, glammy garage is one of the most well received sets of the weekend. It’s just the injection of pace we needed before Italian sludge peddlers Ufomammut, who pack the main room out with giddying riffs.

Atop Friday’s bill, Brant Bjork and his Low Desert Punk Band are a surprising disappointment. Brant will always hold a place in stoner folklore for his work as drummer of Kyuss, playing on Fu Manchu’s best records, and then releasing some excellent solo albums. But part of the charm of his solo work of old was the quiet precision of both guitars and drums, a lazy drawling drag. With his Low Desert Punk Band now playing it predictably loud, his set becomes sadly generic.

The classic grooves of Hamburg’s Mountainwitch jolt Saturday into life, before another German band, My Sleeping Karma, deliver something to really get lost in: vast instrumental soundscapes in front of visuals of an evolving clay sculpture, coming on like a doom-metal Mogwai and enveloping groggy, last-day heads. And so it’s left to Red Fang to provide the final big party of the festival. The Portland quartet succeed with their accessible, tight prog-metal bringing the room to raptures. “The ultimate heavyrock-doom festival”? Yeah, alright then.