Sunday arrived like a slow-building riff, lumbering, steady, deliberate, and absolutely loaded with anticipation. After two days of relentless volume and soul-shaking performances, the final chapter of Desertfest 2025 promised no less intensity, only a deeper descent into the heavy.
Desertfest London – Sunday 18 May 2025
Words And Photography: Ash Nash
With hangovers fading and ears still ringing, Camden stirred to life once more as fans packed into venues from the Greenland place landing zone outside the Black Heart, chasing that last hit of distorted glory before the curtain fell.
There was a tangible sense of camaraderie in the air, nods exchanged between strangers, worn band shirts telling stories of past gigs and shared taste. Sunday was not just about endurance; it was about savouring the moment.
A final communion of the faithful, ready to be led into the doom-laden dusk by some of the most gripping acts of the entire weekend.
Khan – Electric Ballroom
Kicking off Sunday at the Electric Ballroom is no small task, but Australia’s Khan rose to the challenge with commanding poise and spine-tingling dynamics.
The venue, already beginning to fill with weathered festivalgoers sipping coffee and beer in equal measure, felt transformed the moment Khan hit the first shimmering notes of their set.
What makes Khan stand apart is their control. Wielding so many genres in one band is not easy, but they somehow weave introspective prog, grunge-tinged stoner grooves, and emotionally charged vocals into sprawling, melancholic landscapes.
A soundscape so colossal filled every inch of the Ballroom’s wide stage and sweeping balcony with slow-burning atmosphere and carefully sculpted distortion. It was a set that felt both spacious and intimate, like wandering through a thunderstorm with a heavy heart.
Highlight of their set were the band’s three-pronged vocal harmonies shone against a backdrop of brooding riffs. If there were any doubters in the room, Khan left them speechless. This was more than an opening act. It was a statement.
Bobbie Dazzle – Underworld
If there was a moment on Sunday where Desertfest got its groove back, it was the arrival of Bobbie Dazzle at The Underworld. Nestled beneath the streets of Camden, the venue’s low ceiling and sweat-slicked walls played the perfect foil for a band that brought high-octane swagger and sequin-soaked chaos to the heart of the heavy.
Hailing from the UK’s loud and proudly eccentric hard rock scene, Bobbie Dazzle are a glitter-drenched grenade lobbed into the stoner and doom-dominated lineup and what a glorious detonation it was.
Blending the desert-born riff worship of Kyuss with the flamboyant theatricality of The Sweet, the band strutted on stage like they owned the place. And for the next 45 minutes, they absolutely did.
From the opening chords, they hit the crowd with a blast of glam-fuzz energy, all swaggering riffs, stomp-ready choruses, and unapologetic showmanship.
Their frontwoman is a walking embodiment of ’70s rock’ n’ roll excess, prowling the stage in stylish boots and catsuit and tossing cheeky grins between glowing verses and high-flying choruses.
But it was not all about the glitter. Behind the sparkle was serious substance tight-as-nails rhythm work, soaring guitar leads, and a stage chemistry that radiated pure joy.
The Underworld, usually home to far more sullen offerings, was transformed into a dancefloor of denim and doomers letting loose. Even the most hangdog of Sunday revellers could not resist bobbing along.
Some threw themselves outright into a cheeky little pit as if to say: “Why shouldn’t we boogie to a fuzzed-out banger?”
Bobbie Dazzle knew how to work a crowd. Between songs came hilarious off-the-cuff banter, riling up a weary audience until they were whooping and hollering like it was Friday night all over again.
In a festival often dominated by introspection, bleak soundscapes, and funereal tempos, Bobbie Dazzle were pure, unfiltered escapism and a blast of technicolour in a monochrome world. They did not just play a gig. They threw a party.
And judging by the grinning faces pouring out of The Underworld after their set, that party might just have been the most fun anyone had all weekend.
All shortly before the air-conditioning broke in The Underworld.
Chöd – Electric Ballroom
Later in the day, my journey to the Ballroom took a darker, more experimental turn as UK newcomers Chöd descended like a spectral force, a cunning surprise.
Leaning heavily into ritualistic Doom, drone, and industrial noise, the band conjured a sonic séance that felt almost too big for the physical world.
Cloaked in shadow and bathed in monochrome light, Chöd brought with them an unnerving energy, meditative yet menacing. This Sunday of Desertfest definitely has more Doom this year.
Each track felt like an invocation. Layers of feedback and low-end chaos wrapped around chant-like vocals and sparse percussion, pulling the audience into a trance state.
In a festival known for heaviness, Chöd delivered one of the most emotionally intense and immersive sets of the weekend. Less a concert, more a communion with the abyss.
Slump – The Dev
Over at The Dev, Slump proved that small rooms can house big energy. The Birmingham band brought a feral mix of punk-infused sludge and psych-noise chaos that had the upstairs venue bursting at the seams.
With their snarling vocals, swirling feedback, and breakneck tempo changes, Slump were like a Molotov cocktail of influences like Electric Wizard meets Black Flag via Sonic Youth. Their intensity was immediate, and they wasted no time between songs, launching into each one like it was the last they would ever play.
For those lucky enough to squeeze in, Slump delivered a set that felt explosive, unpredictable, and absolutely exhilarating. A future main-stage band in the making.
Slift – Electric Ballroom
When Slift finally emerged, the Electric Ballroom exploded into technicolour. The French trio are the stuff of psych-rock legend at this point, and their live set felt like a rocket ride through time and space.
With visuals swirling behind them and fuzz dialled up to galactic, Slift delivered an unrelenting onslaught of cosmic energy.
Their synergy is spellbinding tight as ever, yet wildly adventurous. Ilion, from their latest album, unfolded like a science fiction opera, all motorik rhythms, soaring leads, and thunderous low-end. Bassist Rémi Fossat anchored the chaos with primal groove while his brother Jean’s guitar lines spun out like solar flares.
The Electric Ballroom crowd lost themselves completely. Heads banged, arms raised, people swayed like seaweed in space. A euphoric, transcendent set that reminded everyone why Slift are psych royalty in the making.
Earth – Electric Ballroom
Closing out Sunday night at the Electric Ballroom and indeed offering a meditative coda to the chaos of Desertfest were none other than Earth, a name that sits atop the pantheon of drone, Doom, and minimalist heavy music.
As the lights dimmed and Dylan Carlson, the band’s quietly mythic founder, took to the stage with minimal fanfare, the room did not erupt, it exhaled. A hush fell like dust. Everyone in the room seemed to know instinctively this was not going to be about volume or spectacle. It was going to be about space, tension, and tone.
Formed in Seattle in the early 1990s, Earth are widely credited as pioneers of Drone Metal. Their early output, including the genre-defining Earth 2, set a new template for heaviness, stripping Metal of its speed and bludgeoning impact and replacing it with infinite sustain, repetition, and sonic gravity.
Over time, Carlson evolved Earth’s sound into something more expansive and Americana-inflected, retaining the droning repetition but infusing it with the dustbowl twang of country, western blues, and the open-road melancholy resonate of an Ennio Morricone cinematic landscape.
The Electric Ballroom, grand, resonant, and steeped in musical history, proved the perfect vessel for Earth’s meditative sermon. The acoustics allowed every guitar note to ring out with aching clarity, reverberating through the venue like a prayer carried on the desert wind.
There was no need for distortion-laden theatrics or crowd-rousing banter. Earth instead invited you to listen closely—to feel every sustain, every pause.
As the opening notes cracked the air the band set the pace immediately: glacial, deliberate, rich with texture. Carlson’s guitar tone, clean, warm, and endlessly resonant, was the anchor, orbiting around hypnotic patterns that seemed to fold in on themselves like the turning of the earth.
Accompanied by long-time collaborator Adrienne Davies on drums, each cymbal hit and tom roll was executed with incredible patience, never breaking the spell but deepening the sense of slow movement, like tectonic plates shifting beneath the venue’s floorboards.
The audience, a mix of longtime devotees and intrigued newcomers responded not with moshing or shouting but with reverent stillness. It was one of the few sets of the weekend where phones stayed largely pocketed.
People simply stood, heads tilted, letting the vibrations wash over them. In a festival known for riffs, roars, and ferocity, Earth offered the opposite: a still point. A reckoning.
As the set drew to a close, the band did not so much finish as dissolve. The final tones stretched out into the rafters of the Electric Ballroom and then into silence, not with abruptness but with grace. It did not feel like an ending. It felt like a door slowly closing behind you—an invitation to carry the quiet with you.
Earth’s performance was a reminder that heaviness does not always come from volume or speed. Sometimes, it comes from presence, intention, and the courage to let a single note breathe.
At Desertfest, amidst a weekend of sonic extremes, they offered something singular: stillness in motion. A fitting and transcendent end to a monumental weekend.
Famyne – The Black Heart
By the time Famyne took to the stage at The Black Heart, the upstairs venue was beyond capacity, shoulder to shoulder with diehards in patched battle jackets, curious newcomers drawn in by the growing buzz, and fellow musicians lining the edges in quiet respect. The anticipation in the room was thick, and rightly so.
For the Canterbury-based five-piece, this show felt like more than just another Desertfest slot. It was a victory lap of sorts celebrating their steady rise from the Doom underground to main stage slots at Bloodstock and beyond.
With the lights low and the amps humming, the Canterbury Doomers Famyne launched into a set that felt almost ceremonial in nature. From the first chord, it was clear this band was not just playing songs. They were conjuring something.
Their sound, deeply rooted in traditional Doom, channels the grandeur of Candlemass and the emotional pull of Warning but with a distinctly modern edge. Every track was delivered with intention, theatricality, and soul.
Frontman Tom Vane is a presence all his own. Clad in black and swaying like a prophet at the altar, his vocals ranged from deep, resonant bellows to aching, melodic cries that cut through the fuzz and reverb like a knife.
His performance was both commanding and vulnerable, a rare and potent mix. You could see the expressions on faces change with each shift in tone as if the entire crowd was being ushered through a shared spiritual experience.
The setlist drew heavily from the band’s self-titled debut and 2022’s II: The Ground Below, with highlights including the soaring, tragic weight of For My Sins, a track that seemed to physically shake the walls of the Black Heart.
Between songs, there was little banter. The music spoke for itself, hanging in the air long after the last note faded; their tightness as a unit was unmistakable.
Guitarists Martin Emmons and Tom Ross weaved together intricate harmonies and funereal leads, while bassist Chris Travers and drummer Mike Ross held the backbone with seismic authority. It was heavy, yes, but never bloated. Each song breathed. Every silence felt earned.
What made the performance all the more powerful was the setting. The Black Heart, dark, intimate, and low-ceilinged, offered no barriers between band and audience. It became less a gig and more a ritual, a safe haven where the Doom faithful could gather and feel something deeper.
As the final chords rang out and the crowd erupted into heartfelt applause, it felt like we had all been through something. Something sacred.
At Desertfest, Famyne proved they belong at the very heart of the UK Doom revival, forward-thinking, emotionally resonant, and absolutely unmissable. If this show was a glimpse of what’s to come, the future of British Doom is in incredibly capable hands.
Desertfest 2025 – Final thoughts
Desertfest 2025 was one to remember. A festival of friends, new and long-standing, you are always welcome in a place like Desertfest. As people say their final goodbyes and the dust settles on another unforgettable Desertfest, one thing is for certain. 2025 did not just raise the bar; it tore it down and rebuilt it in fuzzed-out stone.
Personal highlights ranged from Famyne’s thunderous statement of intent to Stoned Jesus’s incredible earth-shakingly good show at the legendary Electric Ballroom.
This year was a masterclass in heaviness, heart, and raw musical power. Konvent dragged us willingly into the abyss with their pitch-black Doom, while Zeal & Ardor blurred every line between ritual and rebellion, ending the weekend in a blaze of genre-defying fire.
This was something more enlightening than just a festival. It was a pilgrimage, a weekend where riffs reigned, souls were stirred, and the spirit of the underground proved it is alive, thriving, and louder than ever.
Until next time, Desertfest – long may you Doom.
