Back to England, back to Scarborough, back to Fortress. Before the music, there was Heathrow chaos, Google betrayal, sea-view swooning, beans on toast, sunburn, Whitby crowds, dog-hair beer, and a Dracula purchase that was absolutely necessary.
Friday night in Billstedt began with basil lemonade that tasted suspiciously of pesto and ended with me asking a drummer for a picture of his white cowboy boots. I had a fantastic time.
I was at Atmospheric Arts Festival in Speyer last weekend. Here’s the field report.
It includes a poncho, a bathrobe, singing bowls, Riesling Schorle, a bat t-shirt, an emotional breakdown courtesy of a Canadian post-black metal band and the phrase "Hansi Kürsch of depressive black metal".
So yes. I had a good day.
Doom on Valentine’s Day seemed like the obvious choice. Bell Witch and Aerial Ruin brought Stygian Bough Vol. II to Hannover—and somewhere between shared silence, a Backstreet Boys giggle and seismic bass, I finally find the words.
Pre-show chaos, noise confusion, slow emotional collapse, and me, once again, questioning whether I’m still fit for this line of work or if I’ve just developed a worrying habit of having minor existential crises in front of fog machines.
The one where I chased James McBain through a field, got the photo, and smiled so hard it nearly broke my face. A gloriously unhinged travel diary from HOA 2025, featuring Hellripper, chaos, and the best kind of cringe.