LIVE FROM THE PIT: Desertfest 2025

Kiarash Golshani
May 28
7 min read

The sun is out. Greenland Place is rammed with people quaffing band-themed lagers, the vendors are out in full force, band shirts line the walls outside the Black Heart, vegan burgers and kegs are ferried back and forth, and there’s a familiar smell in the air. The music is slow. The beers are amber. The T-shirts are black. Yep, you bet your ass it’s DESERTFEST time.

For the uninitiated, Desertfest is the home of Stoner/Doom/Psych metal. Formerly of Great Britain, but now the world thanks to the advent of Desertfest New York and Desertfest Berlin. Set in the heart of Camden Town in London, multiple venues, both large and small, cater to bands under the ‘doom’ banner. That generally means slow riffs, pounding drums, agonisingly long spaces between notes, and general heaviness. But recently, the fest is stretching at the seams, letting in bands that don’t quite fit the mould. Last year, both Cancer Bats and Suicidal Tendencies headlined, leading to an influx of hardcore punkers and the launching of a thousand takes: Is doom stagnating? What is a Desertfest band, anyway? Is ‘Volume 4’ better than ‘Master of Reality’? The doomers have a lot on their mind. But Out Of Rage is here to find out the truth. We’re on a mission from god. Here are some of the highlights from some of what the weekend had to offer.

SEABASTARD

They came from the south coast and straight into your bowels, SEABASTARD open the festival like a wild haymaker. The walls flake off, and scaffolding outside threatens to give under the sheer trepidation of these riffs. Complimented with a harsh vocal attack from Ian 'Monty' Montgomery (who is absolutely rocking a dreadlocked skullet), The Underworld is blessed with real meat-and-potatoes doom metal without any frills. The performance is festooned by melodic guitar stylings from shirtless wonder Oliver ‘Irongiant’ who leans over and roars at the crowd, grabbing at him hungrily. It’s a glorious romp, and a hell of a way to start off the weekend.

LOWRIDER

Heading to the Electric Ballroom, Swedish stoner rockers LOWRIDER gallop away upon the hallowed stage. Their story is intrinsically tied to the festival, breaking up in 2003, having a short reunion at Desertfest 2013, until finally reforming in 2017, and now has a full-blown second life. Launching into their song, “Fuck you and the horse you rode in on” you can tell they’re a different breed from the rest. Peder Bergstrand’s vocals soar in equal parts gravel and grandeur, capturing the ever-present dichotomy that’s present within this festival, you’ve gotta’ love it.

STONED JESUS

A lot has happened since Ukrainians STONED JESUS first came to Britain; the war still rages on, and the group is as defiant as ever. They thoroughly rocked the ballroom with technical jams performed with pinpoint precision. You can hear their eclectic influences throughout, leaping from genre to genre like a coked-up monkey through trees. There’s a touching political message at the centre of it all, with frontman Igor Sydorenko stating their donations will go directly to civilians with “no organisation involved.” The room erupts in applause and soon he dives headfirst into the crowd like the lead in a grunge band, stretching his arms out like, well, a stoned Jesus. They tear through an unbelievably energetic set, and the Ballroom burns electric. Righteous.

ELDER

Entering to a Yes song, Elder graces the ballroom to perform their 2015 masterpiece ‘Lore’ in its entirety. They’re on a European tour and have come by train, leaving most of their equipment back in Belgium. But even so, they tear the house down. It is an inspiring watch; three guys jamming out to their heart's content, each one laser-focused on getting the most out of their instrument. It’s proggy-spacey-cosmic metal mastery. Reminding us why prog and doom aren’t mutually exclusive, just two heads of the same dragon. Elder have once again shown that they are the formidable force in the stoner rock world, as they leave the crowd hypnotised once more.

CONAN

Between the time when the oceans drank Atlantis, there was a band undreamed of. And unto this, CONAN, destined to wield the crown of doom upon a troubled brow. These guys do not mess around, having just released an album, changed their long-time bassist, and switched metal labels, it’s still the same old Conan. Through the ‘Caveman battle doom’ riffs, Fire & Ice and Excalibur clips play behind while the pit erupts into full-blown neolithic violence. The tone is overcoming and the riffs might have actually triggered a mild earthquake in Chalk Farm, but the Desertfest crowd knows what is best in life: to crush your enemies, see them driven before you, and that… last part.

AMENRA

Cinematic, awe-inspiring, clean-as-a-whistle. These could describe the best glass of water you’ve ever had, but they also perfectly describe when Flemish post-metallers AMENRA came to the Roundhouse. The sound quality is crisper than permafrost, and the lighting is dim and moody. The gothic backdrop portrays images of desolate churches and hooded figures. The so-called “free thinkers” in the crowd are so enthralled by the riffs that they all begin to headbang in unison. There’s a moment where frontman Colin H. van Eeckhout emerges from the smoke to reveal his gigantic St. Peter’s cross back-tattoo exactly like Ralph Fiennes in ‘Red Dragon.’ They may not be doom, but they sure know how to let a note resonate in your chest. Pleasant surprise of the weekend? No contest.

ZEAL & ARDOR

The cinematic awe only continues from there as ZEAL & ARDOR take the stage. There’s a hell of a lot of them on stage, but they all work together to create wonderful bluesy-death metal par excellence. Musically, they’re near-perfect: scorching guitar blasts tangled with work songs that sound like poor Ritchie Havens got possessed by Lucifer. But then you turn around and wonder, “Where the heck is everybody?” A Saturday headliner with space to sit down? It begs the question: “Is this a Desertfest band?” The band themselves mention it, saying booking them was a “wild decision.” Desertfest is pushing the envelope again, and yet again has gone without the success that they anticipated. Regardless, they are a superb band with the energy to match and a brilliant end to a Roundhouse-heavy Saturday, even if the purists were elsewhere.

OLDBLOOD

Security’s got the doors barred shut like it’s the last chopper out of Saigon, but Out Of Rage gets in. Just don’t ask how. Inside, it’s packed. Taller-than-average homo sapiens form a sweaty wall of denim and B.O. that obscures the band completely. You may not see North Londoners OLDBLOOD, but you feel them. They are hosting their own Sunday mass, complete with riffs that sound like they crawled up from the depths of the earth. Brendan Coles screeches and bellows over darkly methodical instrumentals, waking anybody that may have been in a stupor from revelry the night before. If they continue on like this, the future is bright.

BOBBIE DAZZLE

And now for something completely different. It’s the band that melted the stone hearts of even the most serious doomer, BOBBIE DAZZLE. The Brummie glam band busts out a set of 70s goodness that is altogether novel and familiar. The tunes are catchy, with a few battle-jacket clad pit-warriors unable to resist busting out a move. Bobbie herself, Siân Greenway, plays a flute like Jethro in her snake-skin catsuit. She makes a comment that it’s weird to be at Desertfest, “as it’s glam rock.” But honestly, as much as people at this festival worship them, this is the most Sabbath thing all weekend. People forget Sabbath wasn’t just doom; they were blues, glam, proto-punk, and whatever the hell ‘FX’ is. Bobbie Dazzle isn’t out of place, she’s a sparkling reminder of where all this started. Though this will all be on her periphery soon, mark my words: she’s going to be selling out arenas.

DIVIDE & DISSOLVE

Divide and Dissolve is Takiaya Reed’s band. Using guitar, saxophone, and live effects, the goal is to create music to destroy white supremacy. “Takiaya is Black and Cherokee and is seeking to pay respect to her ancestors.” They are also, without a doubt, the heaviest band at the festival by a country mile. Her loop pedal is a weapon of spiritual warfare. Anything that wasn’t screwed down in the ballroom begins to shake violently, even down the busy high street the tourists peer in with looks of terror. Harrowing, awe-inspiring, and filled with the sorrow of generations, doom metal may never be the same.

Divide and Dissolve - Credit: Jessy Lotti

CASTLE RAT

It is difficult to describe just how incredible American fantasy doomers CASTLE RAT were on Sunday night. They’ve got everything. And they have it in truckloads. The look is down to perfection, frontwoman Riley Pinkerton is utterly arresting in her full garb, flanked by a blood-guzzling vampire, a jacked witch doctor, and a crazed druid. There is a narrative that runs throughout the show, and every few songs, the story progresses. At one point, Riley transforms into a vampire (don’t ask), spits out a mouthful of fresh blood, and rides the crest of a righteous riff straight into madness. The audience lose their collective shit. With their already large following growing every day, Doom hasn’t felt so alive, so weird, and so damn fun in actual years. If Castle Rat doesn’t headline in two years, something is broken in the world.

EARTH

Washington legends EARTH were one of the bands that closed out the festival. The legends surrounding this band precede their expectations, people marvelling at the fact that Dylan Carlson was the one who gave Kurt Cobain his fateful shotgun, and other such folklores. The reality is a tenured band with some fantastic drone that had the entire ballroom under a spell. The Judge from Blood Meridian himself could have walked out, and nobody would have batted an eyelid. Their cowboy-centric set conjured images of filibusters in the west and Cormac McCarthey-esque vistas of mesas rising out of the desert. Performing mostly from ‘Hex: Or Printing In The Infernal Method,’ ends with a solid “yee-haw.”

So that’s it. Desertfest 2025 sadly comes to an end once again. And as the Orange amps go silent once more, and the vendors pack up their wares, these truths we hold to be self-evident: this scene is far from stagnant, it’s evolving, mutating, feeding on wider influences and coming back sharper. Doom is a living thing. This year alone, we’ve had vampire stage blood, flute solos in snakeskin, post-metal sermons, and saxophone-driven anti-colonial dirges. Desertfest doesn’t need saving. It’s doing just fine. If the doom scene feels too stagnant to you, there are many places you can look and see evidence to the contrary. The scene’s blood is still hot, still boiling, ever waiting for the next sound to arise. This isn’t the end. It’s the ball rolling ever onward towards the horizon, and where it’ll end up, nobody knows.

See you in the pit next year.

Words: Kiarash Golshani

Photos: Jessy Lotti