NORTHWEST TERROR FEST 2024: A REPORT ON DAY TWO

(We are very fortunate to have two wonderful talents reporting on the 2024 edition of NCS-sponsored Northwest Terror Fest — writer Gonzo and photographer John Malley. Together they have made it possible for those who weren’t there to get a sense of the experience, and to remind those of us who were there how great it was. Here’s their report on the fest’s second day. Find the Day One report here. We’ll bring you Day Three tomorrow.)

As I got out of bed on Friday morning, still riding whatever high Amenra left me with the night before, a random intrusive thought barged into my brain without warning:

“Is insanity a prerequisite for going to festivals?”

Perhaps. In any case, my immediate reply to my own thought was, “No, but it probably helps.”

I feel like this is usually where I’d follow up by reassuring you all that yes, I did in fact pass my last psych evaluation and no, I am definitely not an unhinged jetlagged sleep-deprived writer about to binge on eight straight hours of music and stimulants for the second night in a row.

But if I did that, I’d be telling at least one lie. (I’m not saying which part.)

Visiting Seattle always means getting together with old friends, and despite my otherwise packed schedule, NWTF weekend always leaves room for some of that. It helped that a couple of my dear friends made the trek from the suburbs to join the festivities tonight, with Eternal Champion being the main reason.

 

Before doors opened at 4, though, we walked up Pike St. to check out the Metal Market inside the infamous Narwhal bar. This was a new edition to the festival this year. As it turned out, many of the market vendors also appeared at other festivals throughout the West, including Fire in the Mountains. Paths had no doubt crossed as a result, and it’s always fun to rehash that weekend with anyone else who was lucky enough to have been there.

All of the vendors’ art was pretty kickass as well, featuring everything from handmade paintings and art to metal-inspired clothes. If you missed the Metal Market this year, you missed out.

And of course, my dawdling up the road from Neumos meant that I’d already missed local openers Undulation. Fortunately, I popped in just in time to see the party animals in Colony Drop get the upstairs crowd going.

 

After one song, I realized this band could easily be a soundtrack to making very bad decisions. It’s the same vibe as Municipal Waste on stage, complete with breakneck thrashing guitars in white high-tops and bandanas. There was something delightfully unhinged about seeing a band like this when happy hour was barely over.

 

Downstairs at Barboza, a different party was set to go down. One-man industrial act Physical Wash was about to make us all remember the glory days of Front 242, and I was here for it.

NWTF always manages to find heavy bands that feature exactly zero guitars, and I’ve always admired that about the festival. Almost every year I can remember, there’s been a willingness to take risks on all-but-unknown acts that would be otherwise out of place on other fest lineups. Not here.

Physical Wash regaled the basement-dwelling crowd with upbeat, old-school industrial that was a far cry from anything else we’d see today, save Mvtant’s set later that night. As someone who spent most of his 20s in spooky clubs dancing to stuff that sounded exactly like Physical Wash, I appreciated the nostalgia.

 

Upstairs, we were about to hear some melodic crust punk from Tijuana-based Habak. They wasted no time going straight to the jugular, but the interesting thing about their sound: It’s not afraid to wear its heart on its tattooed sleeve. Vocalist Alex would later tell me the band “isn’t afraid to go a little emo” at times, but after watching her savagely howl on stage for 30 minutes with her band furiously pounding its way into creating a mosh pit at 6 p.m., I can’t say I saw much of the “emo” part myself.

Either way, their set was already a highlight of the day. They were my favorite discovery so far.

 

Staying for all of Habak’s set upstairs meant I would be walking into a very sweaty and crowded Barboza. The appropriately named Abyssal was already well into their first song, which sounded like a Bell Witch intro. Once they got it going, though, their brand of dissonant death was well on display, but I had to pop out early to get a good spot for Messa upstairs.

 

Coming all the way from Italy, this doom crew captivated the eager crowd almost instantly. Everything about this band just screamed “atmosphere,” from the (dare I say) elegant stage presence, to vocalist Sara channeling Grace Slick, to guitarist Alberto ensnaring these beautifully written songs in shimmering leads. I heard lots of chatter in random conversations about how excited everyone was to see Messa play, and their set didn’t let anyone down. Every mile they flew was worth these 30 minutes.

At the end of their set, I felt a powerful lust for pizza. Big Mario’s, my routine late-night pizza savior on Capitol Hill, was just a convenient 3-minute walk from the venue, so it was time to feed the writer, lest you all get a completely shit recap of the weekend. (I’m still not sure how that’s going.)

But, my enjoyment here would be short-lived – none other than Crypt Sermon was on next. The pace of NWTF is often unrelenting, and I learned long ago that planning ahead is key. My lack of planning also meant I completely missed Annapura’s set, which I heard great things about.

 

Despite being an all-too-ephemeral experience, Big Mario’s was just as good as I remember it being. When I got back to Neumos, there was Crypt Sermon, commanding the stage like they owned it. New song “Heavy is the Crown of Bone” was a total crusher, while old favorite “Christ is Dead” was worth the mild case of indigestion I got from inhaling my pizza slice. Sacrifices must be made, and Crypt Sermon was here to make sure all of them were worthwhile.

It was right around this time when the fest was hitting capacity. Crypt Sermon left everyone buzzing, and spirits were high. Speaking of high, that Saints joint I smoked from my earlier visit to The Reef was hitting in all the right ways. Just then, I overheard someone yelling amid the crosstalk during the set change.

“Who are you here to see?” one guy asked to his friend.

“I’m not here to see anyone – I’m just here for Terror Fest, my guy!”

Moments like that are when you begin to realize that this festival has arrived, whatever it meant. The community that festivals like these are building is truly something special, and it’s a privilege to watch it grow a little more yearly.

So, what better way to follow up a sentimental moment than with some knuckle-dragging goddamn death metal?

 

Grave Infestation was more than happy to provide the soundtrack to that. Waiting in the basement like some hammer-wielding minotaur, the Canadian cave-dwellers thundered and roared with enough rumbling bass and galloping tempos to bring the house down – literally. Their 2022 full-length Persecution of the Living is truly savage, and hearing a lot of it live was a bloody good time. Extra points for the track “Slaughter, then Laughter.”

We were rapidly approaching the time when the big guns came out to play. Friday is always the wildest night of NWTF weekend, and tonight would be no different. Sumerlands was up next, rounding off what vocalist Brendan Radigan referred to as a “Philly sandwich” after Crypt Sermon played. And considering that 3/5 of Sumerlands are also members of Eternal Champion, these guys were in for a busy night.

 

Sumerlands galloped through a great set, with highlights including “Twilight Points the Way” and “Dreamkiller.” In the hands of a less talented band, songs such as these may wander too far into “cheese” territory. But, Sumerlands has both the songwriting chops and musicianship to deliver satisfying results. Dreamkiller is one solid album, highlighted by Radigan’s vocals.

Outside, the sun was finally setting. The glare shining through the side door at Neumos was long gone. With darkness descending on the biggest night of the festival, there was a decisive sense of “it’s prime time” inside these walls.

 

It was only appropriate that Eternal Champion would be bringing their sword-wielding sorcery to the stage next.

And when they did, a few things happened:

1. For the first time this weekend, I was covered in my own beer
2. The barrage of inflatables, usually reserved for the final set of the weekend, rained down from the rafters a night early
3. One spirited mosher grabbed an inflatable killer whale and began riding it around in a circle while waving an inflatable sword
4. There was more than one inflatable sword battle during the set

If you love metal, it’s hard not to love a band like Eternal Champion. They expertly navigate the middle ground between incredible songwriting and over-the-top cheese. “Skullseeker,” “Ravening Iron,” and “The Armor of Ire” were all enough to grab my friend by the face and shout the lyrics along in a “we’re all barbarians now” enthusiasm that only a metal show could bring out of me.

And really, those are the moments I live for.

And when the hulking Jason Tarpey came out brandishing a sword while cloaked in a chainmail hood for “I Am the Hammer,” the weekend officially hit its peak.

[Editor’s Note: Not long after the completion of NWTF we were all shocked and very saddened to learn that Brad Raub, bassist for Sumerlands and Eternal Champion, had passed away at the age of 36. We extend our heart-felt condolences to his friends and family, and will treasure all the more his appearance at the festival.]

 

It was almost fortunate, if not outright merciful, that there’d be a 30-minute set change until Forbidden would close things out tonight. Catching our collective breath while recapping Eternal Champion was a must.

As per usual, I was running on fumes. But the prospect of seeing Forbidden live was more than intriguing enough to keep me in the game – at least for a little while longer.

I’ll save the endless speculation and theorizing of “Why didn’t they ever get bigger” for another time, but it’s safe to say that Forbidden is still one of metal’s most criminally overlooked bands. Their dizzying fretwork and breakneck tempos were almost too much for the exhausted crowd to keep up with. That still didn’t stop the band, whose members have played with everyone from Death to Machine Head to Exodus, from effortlessly shredding old-school thrash anthems like “Forbidden Evil” and “Twisted into Form.”

All in all, it was a set that had the decisive oomph of a festival headliner. With a metal scene that loves a good comeback in 2024, it seems like the members of Forbidden have found themselves standing on fertile enough ground to write their first album in almost 15 years. But that’s just speculation.

For now, I could only speculate about how much sleep I’d get before Day 3 of this madness tomorrow. If I wanted any degree of coherence, this body would need to have a short coma first. What I felt in this moment, though, was that satisfying kind of exhaustion you feel after a long day of serotonin overload. I looked forward to getting one more day of it.