There are several moments tonight when I am just blown away by the force of the bands on display.
Everything about Die On Planes furious racket from the slow Sabbath-like riffing that defines much of their one-tune, 25-minute set to the moaning chant at the end that alternates between nihilistic screaming and a raga-like throat-singing. The point when Donovan Miller’s sticks begin to shred, sliver and splinter in his hands as Butcher Birds amp things up on Bare Arms. Then, later, the pent ferocity of Stacey Coleman’s vocals throughout new song Volt.
And when headliners The Smokestack Orchestra shove even more bottom-end grunt under the engine courtesy of a second drummer. I don’t know if it’s a permanent thing — it’s not as though Skritch is a lightweight on the skins — but it was glorious to watch and just as popular with everyone else judging from the enthusiastic, drunken dancing going on.