Arctangent Festival @ Bristol Fernhill Farm, UK, 21-22/08/26

For the greek version, click here.

Cover Photo: Abbi Drapper - Scott, Cult Of Luna & Julie Christmas

Day 3

After a rather cold night by our standards, but with our hearts full, the coming Friday looked on paper like the busiest day of the festival, yet it was also destined to be the most fun. The packed schedule came both from the many interesting sets we had marked down to see and from three different interviews that had to fit into the day - you will hear much more about those very soon! Coffee in hand was essential, then, so we could savour this beautiful day to the fullest. The icing on the cake (or rather, many pieces of yellow icing on a pink cake) is the now-established habit of the Solo Arctangent Group to turn up at the festival on Friday in themed fancy dress, and this year the theme revolved around Mr Blobby. If you are reading this report from Greece, you probably have no idea what I am talking about, but you can read up here and on YouTube. The main thing you need to know is that many people wandered around the festival in shades of pink with yellow spots and smiles straight out of nightmares. Fortunately, I knew enough beforehand not to be frightened; unfortunately, not early enough to have time to join in.

Photo: Jez Pennington, Senor Pink

The morning rounds begin with Worn Out at PX3 and an essential dose of adrenaline and hardcore to get the day off to a good start. Admittedly, though, your capacity to absorb alcohol at eleven in the morning probably needs to be considerable if you are to become fully attuned to Irish hardcore, so we would like to renew our appointment for a later slot in the day. The performance that unexpectedly won my attention that day, however, was that of Señor Pink, the blistering six-piece from Leeds who genuinely play a bit of everything without sounding confused. Superb sound and spirit, which I personally cannot wait to hear captured on a full-length record. Besides, rocking.gr always develops a soft spot at the sight of a bass saxophone.

Photo: Derek Bremner, moksha

Wrapping up our visits to the unknown around here, we head to the main stage for a performance that drew us in, even though we had never had the chance to hear it beforehand. What do I mean? Arctangent Festival hosted one of Ithaca’s final shows before they went on hiatus. In the wake of their intense run, the first member to emerge with a new musical proposal is Sam Chetan-Welsh, with moksha. Showing complete faith in them, Arctangent invited moksha for what was essentially their first live appearance (barring a small warm-up show in London) and they left us with the best possible impressions. With a dramatic sonic turn toward indie prog reminiscent of Black Country, New Road’s more recent direction, plus two covers, moksha seized the opportunity and put themselves on the musical map. If all this sounds interesting, be patient: we discussed it in detail! We briefly stopped by Ringlets for a little dancing, then I disappeared to conduct a few interviews, because a concrete-heavy performance I had personally been waiting for was next.

Photo: Abbi Draper - Scott, Zatokrev

Zatokrev are a band that caught my curiosity much later than they should have, as it happened with last year’s "…Brings Mirrors To The Surface", even though they have been active for many years. Better late than never, though, since this not only led me to appreciate their entire crushing discography, but also to this live moment. Have you ever mixed cement on a building site, or at least watched someone else do it? The result is probably equivalent to Zatokrev’s stage presence: sinking into the depths of their latest record and even further back, they shook everything still standing at the Main Stage. A commanding performance with flawless sound that undoubtedly won the band new fans.

Photo: Abbi Draper - Scott, Conjurer

Another interview takes me backstage, where I could hear You Win Again Gravity creating impressive soundscapes in the distance. I leave as quickly as possible, though, because the Main Stage is ready to receive an even bigger blow of a similar musical identity. Conjurer have been one of my great musical loves of recent years, and there is probably no better contemporary act currently working at the crossroads of post-metal and sludge. Although I knew what to expect after meeting them again at last year’s Damnation Festival, dives into "Mire" and, even more so, the masterpiece "Unself" are never enough. The introduction to "Let Us Live" was a powerful political statement for all people, regardless of identity. See Conjurer at every opportunity if this music is to your taste. It should also be noted that, in an unfair clash for our tastes, the new shoegaze favorites Night Swimming were playing at the same time, and we definitely want to catch them someday too.

Photo: Abi Draper - Scott, Barrens

A quick move to the neighbouring Bixler stage for another set we had eagerly anticipated. Barrens proved to be some of the sweetest people, with punk concerns despite their post character (it is always a joy to end up fangirling over Fall of Efrafa with bands you admire) and the significance of this performance clearly weighed on them, though in a productive way. Onstage, it did not take them long to prove why their name is listed among the most promising in the genre. With a stage presence that suggests far heavier sounds, the atmosphere Barrens build can bend iron and gladden hearts with equal ease.

Photo: Jez Pennington, Mass Of The Fermenting Dreggs

Back to the main stage, where the band whose name alone wins you over if you do not already know them is playing. Mass Of The Fermenting Dreggs travelled from Japan. A historic band with a long career in their homeland, Mass Of The Fermenting Dreggs have begun to become better known in Europe after restarting their activity. Memories and the musical cultural legacy of Boris, in dialogue with pop and alt-rock instincts, breathe together in Mass’s sonic world. Their presence is so sweet and approachable, especially in the blend of Japanese and English in their between-song thanks.

Midway through their set, as if we were taking part in some sacred ritual, the heavens burst open. For about ten minutes, a heavy downpour swept everything in its path, while anxiety about our temporary homes appeared on the horizon. Unable, practically speaking, to move (the raincoats were not enough) we waited for the storm to subside before checking. And so it did, at the cost of sacrificing almost all of HECK’s final show before they too hung up their boots, for survival’s sake. We made it for the last ten minutes. They show was wild, included climbing, and carried intense emotion.

Photo: Abi Draper - Scott, Kulk

After those farewells, and after confirming that our tent was somehow still standing, I think it is time for a brief discussion of the fully academically recognised term "FOMO" (fear of missing out). It applies in many situations, but here I will use it for those times when we know something huge is happening beside us at a festival, something with which we have no real connection, yet we do not want to miss it because we understand its historical importance. I should add that, yes, if it does not clash with something else we want, we lose nothing by going; but sometimes it is worth following the heart and choosing our own small favorite over the act beloved by everyone else.

That happened to me twice that day. The first was the choice between the widely loved British band Arcane Roots and the newly formed duo Kulk. Since my heart had been touched by the Kulk tracks I had heard (give the girl sludge and she will be happy) I left Arcane Roots in the hands of the hundreds of fans moved to tears by their music and chose Kulk. I lost nothing. Jade and Thom from Norwich need only drums and guitar respectively to produce a sonic construction you would never expect from their youthful, likeable faces. With much of their set accompanied by IAN’s cello, Kulk simply turned every gaze toward their debut release, "Choosing To Die", which came out a few days later - and, well, shall we not talk about that soon too?

Photo: Abi Draper - Scott, Perturbator

Thanks to a welcome break created by Kulk’s slightly shorter set, we dash over to enjoy Nothing, always excellent at what they do. I would have been far more excited for this performance if I had not already seen them earlier this year and if I had not been saving my energy for what was coming. Even so, Nothing carried us through their inexhaustible, dirty shoegaze soundscapes and cleared every anxiety from the mind; beautifully, the weather also decided to leave us without further surprises for the rest of the festival. We leave a little early to secure a place at the Main Stage because, well, we do have our weaknesses.

Our god and saviour — as I arbitrarily call him — Perturbator is known for sweeping concerts and an undiluted musical identity. Now seeing him live for the seventh time, I knew what to expect and knew there was no chance of disappointment. As a few lovable pink creatures resembling Mr Blobby gathered around me, I noticed the mood was beginning to shift. The concert became a rave party. Neon colors moved through the crowd. Disco-ball helmets. Kermit the puppet, of course. The lights went down, and the introduction to "Apocalypse Now", with Garm’s angelic voice, threw us crumbs and made us want more. This "more", arrived quickly. Lost in time, several thousand people danced until they dropped; people walked over people being held aloft, from "Humans Are Such Easy Prey" to "Neo Tokyo" and "Future Club". I think this set filled me with all the endurance I need for the worst month of the year, September. Dance, because without dance we are dead.

Photo: Jez Pennington, BRUIT

For the next clash, I had the luxury of having one band in my sights for a full five years, while the other will soon visit Athens. So, despite the wonderfully warm presence of Napalm Death’s Barney Greenway strolling around the festival like the proper English gentleman he is and speaking to everyone with the passion and soul of a child, our hearts and bodies were led to the Bixler stage and the French BRUIT ≤. A band zealously continuing the militant, cinematic post-rock legacy of GYBE, BRUIT≤ shook me profoundly on record, and I had heard so much about their live presence that I could hardly wait. It is a vital experience to feel ecstasy twice in a row in such different ways: first the dancing that came before, then the soul leaving the chest at the sound of instruments struggling against one another. Cello, guitar, keyboards and drums all conspire in a musical journey that is heavy and difficult. You have to close your eyes to understand it fully. We did, and we will remember it forever. Besides, if we opened the political conversation with them, it would take an eternity and a day. Or perhaps we intend to do that soon?

Photo: Joe Singh, Primus

Faced once again with the difficulty of catching the major headliner with whom I have only a superficial relationship or going to the smaller stage, I split the difference. I needed a few minutes to reconnect with reality after everything that had come before this. That happened through Scaler’s pleasant electronic music, which brought me down from sonic transcendence. Next door, however, a very important dialogue was taking place:
"- Primus sucks!
- I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about!"

Referring, of course, to the viral quote that Primus are not very good of a band, the crowd cheered one of the most recognizable bass sounds in rock history while Les Claypool feigned ignorance with a broad smile. Primus onstage are a historic occasion you cannot disregard if you love music, or South America Park, or both. Not knowing that such violence could erupt over such technical music, I watched Primus’s thankfully hit-based set with great admiration. "Winona’s Big Brown Beaver" and "Jerry Was A Racecar Driver" were definite peaks, but my personal favorite moment was their cover of "Hello Skinny" by The Residents, for whom I have an enormous soft spot.

Photo: Joe Singh, Amplifier Silent Disco

Nevertheless, the night had a serious continuation: according to my schedule, this was my only real opportunity to experience the Silent Disco fully. "I’ll stay for an hour or so" naturally became going to bed at around four, and here is why. We put on our headphones to connect with Amplifier’s live performance. I think I like this condition of "one more set" after the headliner, helping you decide whether to rest or stay for the party. Amplifier filled that role extremely well.

The true Arctangent Silent Disco experience, however, put everything in place. Four channels: two with DJs playing live, one with electronic music, and one that played almost exclusively Mars Volta - I am not joking; it is a festival inside joke. Your headphones glowed in a different colour depending on your channel, so you could recognise and be recognised by your people. Take them off briefly and there was absolute chaos: hoarse shouts, voices good and less good, people dancing everything from breakdance to tsifteteli. In someone’s mind this may sound chaotic, but in reality it was a crowd having a wonderful time with friends and strangers, and an unshakable safe space created by the solo community, which had set up its own little corner within the party, naturally open to anyone. I bitterly regret not doing it all four nights, but what better excuse to return? After by far the festival’s most dance-filled day, I went to sleep smiling, preparing myself emotionally both for the weight of the day to come and for the fact that it would be the last.

Day 4

Photo: Joe Singh, 2 Promoters, 1 Pod

Now certain that I was the only Greek around, I adopted ancient Ikarian camping techniques and rose after a barely five hours of sleep, armed with a three spoon shaken frozen coffee (or as you may have probably heard it being called, "frappe coffee"), for the first major event of the day, almost in my pajamas, since I could really not miss this. In the first half of this live report, and in the festival articles, I mentioned the podcast "2 Promoters, 1 Pod", where Arctangent and 2000 Trees organizer James Scarlett, together with his close friend Gavin McInally, organizer of Damnation Festival, talk about music and what else? Festivals. At all three festivals, the weekly podcast episode is recorded live, often with guests who this time were none other than Johannes Persson of Cult Of Luna and Julie Christmas. The episode is available and can be found here, though it contains plenty of inside jokes — I invite you to follow it, and its Facebook group, to get to know them better.

Photo: Jez Pennington, Erotic Secrets Of Pompeii

For the first concert slot of the day, I went back to get properly dressed, though unfortunately I realized that Sara Zozaya, who was playing, was the same Sara who appeared on Viva Belgrado’s beloved album "Cancionero De Los Cielos". I took a deep breath and headed to the Bixler stage to meet the new love I had discovered through the festival lineup, Erotic Secrets Of Pompeii. The groove of this band’s alternative noise rock and its theatricality are unprecedented on record and, as it turned out, live. Their new album will be released later this year and I am certain that, if it finds the right audience, it will attract attention. With songs like "Crowstepper", it cannot fail to. Out of curiosity and feminist solidarity, without having delved too deeply, I also stopped by Meatdripper at PX3 for some traditional doom with a witch’s touch, and it was definitely the right choice.

Photo: Derek Bremner, Reclusé

My first encounter with Reclusé came only a few months earlier at Outbreak Festival, where they suddenly appeared to fill a gap. The band itself has not existed much longer than that. To cut a long story short, I was blown away the first time and desperately wanted a repeat. Reclusé bring together Daniel Carter of Hexes and Bloodhound Gang, and Soren Bryce, known both for her solo work and Tummyache. On Reclusé’s plate you will find indie pop, alt-rock, screamo and post-hardcore coexisting harmoniously, with Soren’s voice blending them as though they had always belonged together. These remarkable performances point toward a debut we cannot wait to hear.

The next few hours passed somewhat strangely, but wisely and restfully, because the festival’s final run promised to be demanding. It began with a stop at Forlorn, where darkness intertwined with melody and summoned something otherworldly to the planet’s surface. There was a quick visit to the Yohkai to see a little of Din Of Celestial Birds, whom ideally we would have enjoyed for longer, but a prearranged conversation with Pupil Slicer led to a joyful midday moment full of gaming references with Kate Davies. The afternoon ended with a brief stop at Leeched, because we must support the noisy outsider — especially if it has been years since they stepped onstage. And, of course, food.

Photo: Derek Bremner, Oathbreaker

I will admit that, if my personal reunion with Oathbreaker after ten years had not already happened at this year’s Roadburn, the festival’s final day and the names gathered in its second half might have been emotionally excessive for me. Having already endured the first chill and shiver of experiencing "Rheia" from the beginning, I was a little more prepared this time. There was a slight delay, but the feeling of a bomb ready to explode returned, identical to a few months earlier. Caro, this time in white, tears through the syllables of "Second Son Of R" like photographs reopening painful memories. The sound spreads across the Main Stage like disease: harsh, impenetrable. Where we did not expect "Rheia" to come alive once more, it ultimately dominated the performance, which was even cut short just before the end because time ran out. How many times become too many before an album stops offering the same catharsis? A question that would be asked again that day.

Photo: Carl Battams, Chat Pile

Like a lost soul, I moved to the adjacent Bixler stage and collapsed. Darkher was fighting folklore monsters onstage; forgive me if I did her an injustice, but I was dazed and preparing for where the remaining three performances I had anticipated most would take me mentally. I left early, because some American country boys had managed in six years to prove that, although perhaps more of a film lover than a music lover, you can write the most accessible yet savage music. My love for Chat Pile dates from their first musical minute. I saw their star, bet on it, and every year they vindicate me more. With the advantage of already loving the new album "Who Loves The Sun", released only days earlier, I was ready for another Chat Pile experience. The chemistry among the four is monstrous. Raygun Bush’s performances are torrential, almost primal, in contrast with his deeply knowledgeable jokes and references to some of the strangest films ever released. "Pen Is Small" is built for the stage. This rendition of "Why" may have been one of the best I have been lucky enough to see. Chat Pile are today’s savage band, born from a divided America that needs them like cool water. I sacrificed the final two songs to be somewhere else, and only a handful of active bands could have made me do that…

Photo: Joe Singh, TTNG

I want to say thirteen years ago; I want to say after that The Ocean concert at Fuzz Club in Athens, although perhaps my details are not entirely exact. What is certain is that, returning from Fuzz more than ten years ago, I found myself in a car with people who shared my musical tastes but held very different ideas about communication and honesty. Yet even in strange memories, music always reigns and overcomes circumstance. Among many things I knew and loved and singed passionately to, I remember as if it were yesterday the guitar of "Gibbon" ringing out, time briefly freezing, and me asking, caring about nothing else, what I was hearing. That was my introduction to TTNG. Ever since, there have been moments when their "Animals" sounds, in my mind, a little bigger than Floyd’s. A heavy statement, I know, but we will always obey what the heart asks for.

After ten years of intermittent presence - though not a breakup - TTNG became active again not only for concerts, but also with their new EP "Juggling Moves (Beginner)", so the timing could not have been better. Math rock experienced one of its greatest moments on the Yohkai stage, and the sun, as though it knew, decided to set at that exact hour, leaving a gilded outline around tearful heads gazing with religious devotion at the Collis brothers, Henry Tremain and Stuart Smith. Four boys (only in spirit now, since we all grow older and some of them have their own kids) whose polyrhythms made us sing their equally complex lyrics with every breath: "perpetually perplexing the simple". With beloved new and old music, a huge musical longing had finally been fulfilled despite the slim hopes of it ever happening. But as life arranges things, perhaps this meeting would have a sequel…

Photo: Joe Singh, Eivor

I adore the following band, Pupil Slicer, to a superlative degree, but something inside me seemed broken from what I witnessed before. I sat at the edge to watch them, enjoying probably the best show of theirs I have seen. An untamed cloud of dust from the festival’s most vigorous mosh pit rose into the air. Year by year, Kate grows bolder onstage, driving the crowd to extremes with only a few notes, while Pupil Slicer’s new members have bonded completely. And how hard "Gordian" hits! It is worth noting that drummer and founding member Josh Andrews was absent, but for the best possible reason: he had recently become a father! Since Pupil Slicer’s performance would run slightly shorter than Eivor’s parallel set, I decided to leave early and catch a little of her. I will give her more words despite spending only ten minutes there, because admittedly Eivor won over the entire festival. Perhaps the festival’s most unexpected and unconventional booking, Eivor’s folk music and its spectacular quality, dressed in traditional instruments and flawlessly executed lighting, commanded attention and left everyone talking. Next time, she deserves our undivided focus.

If anyone had told me High On Fire would be playing beside me and I would not go to see them, I would have said a prayer despite not believing. I would have done the same if they told me A. A. Williams would be playing next door while I stood like a rock nearby - at least I could hear her, since she was on the immediately adjacent stage. Yet thanks to the fortunate circumstance of having seen High On Fire twice last year in two blistering shows, and of having the chance to enjoy A. A. Williams in Athens, I devoted myself to a sacred purpose: holding my front-rows spot for the culmination of everything we had come to see over these four days.

Photo: Abbi Draper - Scott, Cult Of Luna & Julie Christmas

"This album was not supposed to be played live," Cult Of Luna and Julie Christmas said of "Mariner" ten years ago, when they arranged a handful of performances and played it in full. With the memories of the monumental 2017 Athens concert, one of those rare performances, still indelible, I knew one thing: this experience would change your life and redefine what you consider a great concert. Very few people in the world have seen "Mariner" live more than once. Knowing that I am one of them fills me with pride. The Main Stage falls into the silence of a church service. Silhouettes emerge through the smoke. A mask resembling an astronaut’s helmet, filled with lights and crystals, carries with it a familiar silhouette. A silhouette covered in signatures she herself asked the audience to give her because, "Who am I to sign for you? Sign me too," as she said on the morning podcast, embracing the emotional connection that a signature ultimately offers. With them, the first notes of "A Greater Call" freeze the air.

If I had to describe to someone who had never heard this record what it is like to experience it live, I would compare it to diving into the sea and realizing that the depth lies beyond your sensory limits. Or boarding a spacecraft and becoming stranded in the infinite universe, still breathing oxygen but with no idea how much longer you can endure or whether this is, in fact, the end. Julie Christmas’s interpretive skill has been praised even by people with no connection to her music. Her deep feminine anguish and simultaneously childlike, innocent growls occupy the space like ghosts. The kindred musical soul she has found in Johanes Persson has been proven in many ways, and this translates with absolute precision into the return to "Mariner". Even more, the evolution of the massive sound of Cult Of Luna’s live performances over the last three years made the whole frame larger, so large that the crowd shouting "You have to spit to see the shine" during "The Wreck Of S. S. Needle" could have raised a tsunami, despite being kilometres away from the sea.

Photo: Jez Pennington, Julie Christmas

All around, people inhabit worlds of their own, reliving personal battles inside their heads. For almost the next half hour, "Approaching Transition" and the unsurpassed "Cygnus" unfold to bid a final farewell to Fernhill Farm; to unearth a live performance some thought had been buried forever - but what creature of the night truly dies unless you drive a stake through its heart? In every roar from Johannes, in every movement of Julie’s body, the truth of "Mariner" was not diminished in the least if this was your second time. One, two, ten, a hundred. If I knew that every ten years we would see "Mariner" live, it would be reason enough to endure another decade. Rumor has it that Battlesnake, who brought the festival’s live music to its final close at their own Silent Disco, were wonderful, but my very early flight before dawn sent me to pack up my home and leave immediately, however not before daydreaming about what had happened to me that day and realizing I had experienced one of the finest musical memories of my life.

Instead of an epilogue

Since we usually close our multi-day festival reports this way, I will preserve the tradition and add a few final words. It is a major achievement to be an independent festival relying primarily on non-profit organisations, volunteers and the public’s love, and still attain such recognition and quality across every aspect of the festival. With a masterfully constructed lineup for lovers of strange, heavy music, respect for people’s needs, sound and cleanliness, and many environmentally friendly initiatives, Arctangent Festival has built a village where, within an hour of arriving, you understand why the British love it so much. My passion is discovering places like this, communities like this and people like this: sharing moments, keeping the stories and spreading them, inviting more people to share them with us.

We live in a difficult age: violent, indifferent, warlike. Yet amid misery, death and malice, heavy music has managed over the last decade to begin changing from within. It has become more inclusive, both in the identities of the artists who create it and in the audience it attracts, finally building safe spaces. I cannot guarantee that there will not be one, two or three strange or even intrusive people (in any sense) in a place like Arctangent Festival. But I know that anyone displaying such behavior will immediately face consequences, while the person subjected to it will receive immediate protection. As I mentioned at the beginning of the report, I made this journey as a solo female traveler and did not feel uncomfortable, distressed or, worse, unsafe for even half a minute. That takes effort.

Fernhill Farm may have been bid farewell by Arctangent for the last time, but we are moving toward something new, bigger and more beautiful. As long as things remain as they are, it will have my wholehearted support and presence, a type of support that comes not only from me, but also from other organizers within and beyond the country. A reminder that if you have no solidarity with others who might be competitors, then your solidarity is somehow poisoned by capitalism. We have the power to create initiatives such as a respectful festival focused a little more on the experience, despite its strong emphasis on music. And this is not true only during festival season. Love, share, and ask for help when our times weigh you down. We have only one another and our art.