Another year and another sell-out for the fantastic Damnation Festival. It’s heartening to see that a festival so obviously built from the ground up by fans more interested in art than financial gains is going so strong. A highlight of the metal calendar, what stands Damnation apart from its peers (apart from the willingness to listen to the fans) is the organisers’ desire to keep things eclectic. Certainly all the acts reside within the heavier end of the spectrum, but where else would you find the sublime progressive rock of Vola rubbing shoulders with the skull flattening grind of Napalm Death and the arty excursions of The Ocean? Such eclecticism is to be celebrated and, with four stages running throughout the day, not to mention a wide array of food courts and bars, there’s always something to engage the attention.
Since last we visited, Leeds Students’ Union has undergone a substantial overhaul. With more space, new toilets and a wider variety of food outlets catering to almost every taste, the middle floor in particular feels less labyrinthine than in the past. The staff deserve praise, too, for their friendly, helpful demeanour even as the venue fills considerably as the day wears on. It’s not all perfect, however. The lower-level stages are, at times, bafflingly difficult to get into, with queues for Batushka, in particular, stretching way out into the food court. Anyone who didn’t make it in well before their show, seemed unlikely to make it in before at least half way through and a number of people abandoned the attempt. Such problems are not unique to Damnation, to be sure, but they need to be addressed nonetheless. Nonetheless, 2018 sees Damnation impress with their organisational skills, even in the face of a fire alarm that sees the building evacuated in the middle of the afternoon. A small hiccup, well-dealt with, it hardly detracts from the day and the staff do their best to get everyone back in as safely and quickly as possible.
Unaware of the impending interruption to their set, we arrive at Damnation in time to catch the legendary cancer, who take to the Jaeger stage with considerable energy. As the lights dim, we’re instantly plunged into a nightmarish miasma of crushing death riffs and occasional thrash elements. Tracks such as opening number Cancer fucking cancer are delivered with such focused rage that it’s hard to believe that the band are celebrating some thirty years of extremity and, if the sound is a little ropey at the outset, it soon settles into place. Better still, the band are also poised to unleash new material, having inked a deal with the mighty Peaceville Records, and we get a crushing down the steps from that album, showing that the band have lost none of their skills when it comes to penning death metal anthems that grab the listener by the throat. It sits comfortably alongside classic cuts such as into the acid and the band clearly go over well with a crowd which swells considerably as the set progresses, although things do come to a somewhat premature halt with the aforementioned fire alarm.
Fresh from a trek with Boss Keloid OHHMS are an increasingly impressive live act, with bassist Chainy, in particular, impossible to pin to the stage (much to the consternation of the security who seem entirely unsure what to make of the errant musician). Promoting stunning new album exist, OHHMS are an unforgettable act fronted by the enigmatic Paul Waller, who seems so utterly lost in the music at times that he disappears into a trance-like state when not unleashing his harrowing vocals. Tearing through the blistering subjects the A-side-gobbling behemoth that, despite its twenty-three minutes, is so inventive it seems to pass in a fraction of the time, OHHMS are simply untouchable and they provide an early highlight of the day. Quite what the future has in store for this articulate and impassioned band remains to be seen, but one thing is clear – the band are progressing at a phenomenal rate and exist captures the band at the peak of their not inconsiderable powers.
Proof that initial impressions can be deceptive, Australian prog monsters Ne Obliviscaris take to the Jaeger stage amidst a flurry of tech-death riffs and relentless blasts of percussive might. However, this is no one-dimensional display of technical dexterity and, as the set progresses, we are treated to clean vocals and violin passages, all designed to lull the listener into a false sense of security before the next seismic riff detonates. Playing to an impressively large crowd, Ne Obliviscaris unleash the likes of devour me, colossus (part 1): Blackholes, whilst recent album urn is well-represented with several tracks including the lengthy Libera (part 1) saturnine spheres. An impressive outing that benefits greatly from a vocal crowd, Ne Obliviscaris are making unique excursions into an extreme form of prog that is equally brutal and beautiful and their inclusion on the bill is well-justified.
Next on the Jaeger stage, unstoppable death machine Anaal Nathrakh make for distinctly uncomfortable listening. Opening with a potent obscene like cancer, the band play their hearts out, as is only to be expected, but Dave’s vocals frequently seem to become lost under the sheer visceral power of his band, which detracts from the overall performance. Nonetheless, these purveyors of extremity remain peerless in their dedication to nihilism and, as the show progresses, the stage drenched in blood red light, the audience starts to resemble patients on a psychiatric ward, drugged into submission by the propulsive, semi-industrial noise in which the band deal. Enjoyment is, perhaps, not quite the right word, but Anaal Nathrakh shows are, nonetheless, communal experiences – cathartic in the extreme – and the band deliver a typically coruscating set.
Over on the Eyesore Merch Stage, something sinister is about to arrive. The last time we caught Arabrot, the band were touring the stunning record the gospel, and their performance has remained long in my memory as one of the most remarkable spectacles I have encountered. At that particular show (at a Secret Cinema event in Stoke), the band played in an abandoned office building made over to look like a 1930s asylum. Today, shorn of such a theatrical backdrop, I wondered if the band could possibly live up to the expectations of my memory. In simple terms, the answer is a resounding yes, but, in point of fact, Arabrot shattered all my expectations with a performance so otherworldly it saw goosebumps break out upon my flesh. Drawing heavily from both the gospel and new long player who do you love, the band have long progressed beyond the confrontational punkish noise white-outs of efforts such as solar anus to embrace a darker, more atmospheric sound that sits somewhere between Nick Cave and Killing Joke. That’s not to say, however, that the guitars have been cleansed. Arabrot’s performance, which opens with gospel and then proceeds through the brand new warning and (yes!) the whore is the city, reaches its formidable peak with the lengthy, sonic youth-esque the horns of the devil grow leaving the crowd stunned and shaken. The band of the day with no shadow of a doubt in my mind, Arabrot are simply immense.
Back over on the Jaeger stage, Entombed AD continue to ply their trade off the back of some of the finest albums death metal has to offer. Lars-Goran Petrov remains a dynamic figure, his threatening stage presence enhanced by an unholy growl which guides the audience through evergreen classics such as wolverine blues and its notable that our talented photographer struggles to catch him, so vigorous is he in his movements. With melody no more than a fleeting glimpse amidst the torrid riffs, this is pure, primal death metal, delivered with a primitive gusto and the packed out room responds in kind.
Also on the Jaeger stage, the legendary Ihsahn needs no introduction, his role in the black metal scene more than enough to secure him a place in the musical history books. Nonetheless, his reinvention as a solo artist in the vein of Devin Townsend has been wondrous, his adoption of an obsidian form of prog (with occasional blackened elements) nothing short of awe-inspiring. His set for Damnation sees him drawing heavily from recent album Amr and tracks like lend me the eyes of Millenia and Arcana Imperii manage to be both melodically melancholic and yet brutally heavy in the live environment, with Ihsahn and his band setting a trance-like pace that transcends genre. It’s a powerful performance, but the tracks have a tendency to be at a similar pace with the result that they start to blur into one as the set runs past the half-way mark. Fortunately, a rousing celestial violence keeps things moving and Ihsahn benefits from a much improved sound over the earlier acts.
Known for their visceral performances, The ocean Collective are a band from whom you can’t afford to take your eyes for even a second. Opening with The Cambrian Explosion and Cambrian II: Eternal Recurrence, it seems we might get the new album in its entirety, a feeling further compounded by the appearance of Ordovicium: the glaciation of Gondwana. However, the band have other plans, and a highlight of the set is announced as liquid bubbles through the PA and the band introduce the epic Hadopelagic II: Let them believe (from Pelagial). At some point amidst all this, effervescent vocalist Loic Rossetti launches himself into the crowd, clearing the photography pit and landing in the heart of the audience, his mic cable flailing as the security look on aghast as they try to figure out what the hell has just happened. It’s a part of what makes the band so enthralling and, safely back on stage (and now under the sternly watchful eye of security), the band continue to take every opportunity to engage the crowd, with both guitarists looking like they might follow their vocalist into the steaming pit. Drawing from the new album, Pelagial and the band’s masterpiece, precambrian, The Ocean Collective are a truly special act and a guest appearance from label mates Rosetta only adds to the feeling that this is a special show indeed.
It’s hard to write about Napalm Death, so widely covered are these legends of the extreme metal scene. Still devastating, these fiercely political, fiercely humanitarian firebrands have been wreaking havoc upon the mosh pit for more years than a good portion of the audience have been alive. With 2015’s blistering album, Apex Predator still on the agenda, as well as recent compilation Coded smears and more uncommon slurs, the band vent their utter disgust at the corporate agenda with tracks such as multinational corporations, instinct of survival, smash a single digit and, as an early-set highlight, standardization (from the aforementioned compilation). Barney is in a chatty mood, his between-song raps typically charismatic as he lays out the Napalm Death philosophy, and the juxtaposition between his inter-song banter and his explosive vocal performance is dizzying. The band even take us back to the still-untouchable debut, with the title track and, of course, the ridiculous you suffer, delivered as icy blasts of cathartic noise. A genuine institution, Napalm Death are seemingly incapable of disappointing their fans and they bring the festival to a satisfyingly brutal close.
Damnation 2018 proved, once again, the glorious eclecticism that lies at the heart of extreme metal. With a bill taking in everything from progressive metal to grindcore via sludge, death and doom, there was so much to choose from that it was impossible to see all the amazing acts spread across the stages (the clash between The Ocean and Vader proving to be the most egregious). Well-organised, although the horrific queue that built up to the lower stages is definitely something that needs addressing moving forward, Damnation 2018 had more food, more beer, more space in which to sit between bouts of sonic violence and a truly stunning line-up and it remains an essential date on the metal calendar. Roll on 2019!
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