Live Review : Arctangent Festival on August 20th 2022
The level of respect and admiration within our world for cellist Jo Quail is frankly quite astonishing. Her midday appearance on main stage attracts a larger audience than any of the three headliners. The atmosphere is one of silent reverence, interspersed by an almost fanatical outburst of appreciation when she reaches the end of each of her three pieces. The way that she has been accepted into the metal fraternity like some long-lost brethren shouldn't come as a surprise by now, but there is still such a genuine humility to the way that Jo reacts to the veneration she receives. I've witnessed her unique approach on numerous occasions, but it still never fails to take my breath away. She creates a single sound on her high-tech deconstructed minimal cello (frankly it's more air than an instrument) and then she loops those back to gradually build her backing track. Simplistic but highly effective. The DNA shared with metal can be found in both the emotion and the heaviness. It's experimental and it's thought-provoking. Half an hour is way way too short. But once again Jo has proved that she is as vital part of our constructed reality as any bunch of shouty teenagers.
There isn't just a buzz about Ithaca, there's a bloody great swarm. With "They Fear Us" they have dropped not just one of the albums of the year but perhaps the album of the year. It's an absolutely astonishing treaty on loss, trauma and recovery. Positivity filtered through a prism of swirling noise. As the band on everybody's lips they have a lot to live up to the live arena. Thankfully they are absolutely stunning. In Djamila Azzouz, they have one of the most unorthodox but utterly compelling frontperson to emerge in the last few years. She is a ball of dynamic energy, switching from guttural screams to lush melodic lilt's within a heartbeat.
She manages to combine sincerity with the commanding stage presence of a grizzled veteran. With so many expectations on their young shoulders, you would expect some level of nerves, but they treat this early afternoon set with a level of breezy irreverence. They come across as incredibly comfortable both in themselves and with the message that they are portraying. Sam Chetan-Welsh takes the opportunity to talk passionately and articulately about owning your own trauma and there is something wonderfully refreshing about the emotional maturity with which they treat their own vulnerability. Very much a future headliner in the making.
Heriot are all about impassioned noise. They are a Hurricane of discombobulated riffs and harsh screaming vocals. There is beauty to be found in a deconstructed form and that is what is so enticing about this rapidly ascending four-piece. Everything feels improvised and unconnected with everything else, yet in the middle of that chaotic maelstrom, there is still a semblance of melody and harmony. To come across as this unsystematic you need to have a huge amount of dedication and discipline. Heriot seem to perfectly articulate 2022 in musical form, namely harsh and abrasive but with flashes of beauty.
I'm not quite sure where Conjurer is heading but I do know that it is proving to be a fascinating journey getting there. Quite simply they defy any attempt to pigeonhole or define themselves. There are chunks of monolithic doom at play here, but there are also points where they are distinctly nihilistically Black. Then there are junctures where the harshness lifts and there is a real fragility to what they're doing. Simultaneously they managed to be heavy as fuck but also quintessentially life-affirming. There is a spiralling intensity at play here but it is offset by a lightness of touch. They are not being heavy for heavies’ sake, instead, they are using it as one weapon in their arsenal in which to build a thoroughly unique and textured musical ecosystem.
Some dive into the pit and get consumed by the pulsating riffs (mentioning no names, Gavin McInally), however, I choose to stand back open-mouthed and watch it all unfold. Yes, this is metal but it is something unique and uncategorizable within metal. It might be the start of something distinctly new or it might be the point where all genres mould in together, frankly, I can't tell. What I do know is that this is utterly fantastic, utterly immersive and unlike anything else out there. Whilst I have in the past really enjoyed Famyne’s brand of Sabbath/Candlemass esque doom, coming after the majestic wonder of Conjurer they feel ordinary and to be honest rather bland. It's not really their fault and in another slot, I suspect they would go down a storm, the point is after you have had caviar is quite hard to go back to pie and chips.
The main stage is distinctly empty for ambient metalcore survivors Devil Sold His Soul, which is rather a shame as they are less of a sore thumb here than some people would imagine. As ever they produce a very slick and emotionally charged set. They interestingly choose to only play tracks from last year's "Loss". Whilst this could alienate long-standing fans, it does allow them to effectively showcase the band that they have become. The juxtaposition between their dual vocalists (triumphant returnee Ed Gibbs and his initial standing but now co-screamer Paul Green) feels like an essential part of their DNA even if it is a relatively new innovation. While some Arctangent veterans may see them as a bit safe and mainstream, their ability and aptitude to experiment and push their envelopes mean that they actually seem right at home here.
Emma Ruth Rundle has made a career as being understated. In fact, she's so understated here that she is almost invisible, hidden behind the imposing pillar that divides the Yokhai stage into two. She jokes that she's been booked for her commanding stage presence and then proceeds to bewitch everybody within the tent. This is one of those slow-burning sets, minimal, unassuming but also utterly entrancing. For all her jokes about stage presence, she possesses an inconspicuous but enticing charisma. Her voice is slight and unobtrusive, but you are compelled to listen.
I feel almost treacherous leaving halfway, but the gods of unavoidable clashes compel me to cross the site to catch a bit of Elephant Tree. This is Stoner metal with an intelligent sheen. Like the bastard child of Hawkwind and Dream Theater. There are plenty of scuzzy riffs but they are presented in a progressive and almost mathematical manner. Really interesting but not quite sure whether it was worth leaving Emma Ruth Rundle for.
With all doom and emotional resonance flying around the place, there seems to be a distinct lack of fun this afternoon. Which, of course, is where Mass of the Fermenting Dregs come in. Whilst the name would conjure up in most people's heads a spiky extreme metal act, in reality, they are a pithy and bouncy Japanese shoegaze outfit. Basically, My Bloody Valentine on a sugar rush. Their Day-Glo vibrancy is exactly what is called for on a sunny Saturday afternoon and they bring huge rays of sunshine and happiness into the hearts of everybody congregated in PX3. I may be metal through and through but there are times when only pop will do.
However, no sooner have I said that than it's back to the doom. But this is no ordinary doom, this is Pallbearer doom. An altogether more emotionally literate and heart-breaking iteration of metal’s most Neanderthal genre. Yes, they are following a path that was well-trodden before them by Warning (if you have never heard "Watching from a Distance" then frankly there's something missing from your life. Stop reading this review and go and Spotify it now. That’s an order). But if you are going to plagiarise you might as well plagiarise from the best. Slow, mournful but full of passion and pathos, their set is essentially a beautifully fragile thing to behold. Devin Holt’s guitar doesn't just weep, it is practically bawling its eyes out. They may just about reside within the brackets of metal but this is the most delicate and emotive metal that you will come across. Designed to make grown men cry and believe me many of us do.
Wheel are a pound shop Tool. That is meant very much as a compliment as opposed to an insult. They replicate the mathematical gymnastics of the Los Angelian Goliath so well, that they act as well-needed methadone for those of us unwilling to pay the extortionate prices that Maynard and his chums now command. They start tonight's performance with a bit of a humble apology as their atmospheric intro music has gone AWOL and rather than creep on stage shrouded in smoke and digital sounds they begin from the altogether more humble position of simply standing there in their offstage clothes. To be honest, we don't care, with the Lazarus-like return of This Will Destroy You happening concurrently on the main stage, Wheel’s audience is made up solely of their dedicated fan base. Everyone in PX3 knows every word to every song and to be honest wouldn't have cared if they are turned up in Bermuda shorts and comedy T-shirts. Precise riffs and glacial time changes rain down upon us and it is utterly glorious. Some may see this type of maths rock as being very cold and clinical but underneath the well-defined exterior beats an emotional heart. Exact and specific but still utterly glorious.
From my vantage point watching Wheel, I could see Yokhai rapidly fill for Leprous. It sort of goes without saying that if you like the sort of bands who play Arctangent then you are more than likely to already be rather obsessive about this bunch of Norwegians. It's quite hard to pin down exactly what they do nowadays, but essentially imagine if you took the metal as a progressive metal then you are more or less in the right ballpark. Their’s is a wonderful amalgamation of art rock, classic prog and issue great sugary dollop of pop. When you boil it down actually they are a pop band but a pop band with huge pretensions. Einar Solberg’s vocals soar off the stage and into our hearts. His range is simply quite stunning, he surges from falsetto to guttural growls and essentially every other stopping between. It's that oral dexterity that makes leprous’s sounds so unique.
There is a warmth to both their approach and the material that feels to be at a complete juxtaposition to other bands playing in the same toybox. They feel organic and even improvised tonight as opposed to being precise and over-rehearsed. It might be a dirty word in the circles they move in, but they look like they are having fun, loads and loads of fun. That feeling of merriment and exuberance boils over into the audience and even the most post-faced maths rock fanatic cannot help but end up with a huge grin on her face. Essentially Leprous prove that lush instrumentation doesn't need to be straight or serious.
Talking about straight and serious, if Opeth ever call it a day then Mikael Åkerfeldt has an illustrious carreer awaiting as a stand-up comedian. He is charming, self-deprecating and very very funny. He feels like an affable mate as opposed to an aloof rock star and it is his cordial and genial mannerism that makes Opeth so easily accessible. They produce music you can become lost in. Commercial enough to allow entry by the uninitiated but ornate enough to keep your interest. They seem to move beyond all the hoopla about whether they were a death metal band anymore and seem to have reached a plateau where they are a progressive rock band who sometimes play death metal, a subtle but important shift in persona.
Tonight set showcases both their personas as they take us on a whistle-stop tour through nine of their albums (never stopping for more than one track from each). That line I mentioned between Opeth the death metal band and Opeth the prog rock band becomes more and more blurred, to the point where really only the most diehard fans can sit there and reiterate which songs come from which era. What they all share is sumptuous organ-driven sound, luxurious and enveloping. In fact, we become so immersed that there are plenty of gasps of surprise when Mikael calls ‘Deliverance’ their ‘Paranoid ‘and declares as it will be the last song of the night.
Because he's been so jokey and light-hearted we frankly don't believe him. It is only when (a full half an hour before they were meant to finish) they bow and exit that we start to realise that this might actually all be over. The crew start to diligently deconstruct the drum kit but the whole tent howls for more, in complete disbelief that they are not coming back for "one more song". The catcalls and desperate shouts for an encore carry on for a good ten minutes but that indeed is it. No matter how brilliant Opeth was (and they were utterly spectacular), the abrupt end takes a bit of the sheen off the whole thing.
However, it shouldn't spoil what has been an astounding and almost miraculous return for Arctangent. Whereas many many smaller bespoke festivals catering for those who like their metal to be a bit "different" have fallen by the wayside, Arctangent seem to have emerged from the "blip" with actually far more buoyancy and street cred. They seem to have achieved the impossible and grown (and embraced a new audience) without losing any of their authenticity. A wonderful wonderful weekend but proved there is very much an audience for those who like their metal on the weird side.
I just love Metal. I love it all. The bombastity of symphonic, the brutality of death, the rousing choruses of power, the nihilistic evil of black, the pounding atmospherics of doom, the whirling time changes of prog, the faithful familiarity of trad, the other worldlyness of post, the sheer unrefined power of thrash. I love it all!