Dear Diary: On Location at Dark Mofo (Day Five)

Dark Mofo 2025
Hobart, Tasmania
Diary Entry: Day Five

“Brought to light once again.” - ‘Upon Frigid Winds’, Godslastering: Hymns of a Forlorn Peasantry, Marz Riesterer, Hulder, 2021.

‍“The light” is fundamentally an almighty essence of our existence. Whether through belief, science or even what living entities depend on, “light” is a lifeblood that is vital and also, especially artistically, a fascination.

The entire city of Hobart is radiant with mostly one colour through its surroundings of darkness during Dark Mofo, the primary colour “red”. Without embarking on a list of where red is found in everyday life, for instance: Traffic lights, film titles, Taylor Swift, fire trucks, apples, Split Enz, prestigious carpet colours, blood, wine – alright, just wave that red flag already… The further attraction of the festival is the prominent use of that luminescent and attention-grabbing colour throughout the city.

Imagine that colour being subtracted from the visible spectrum upon entry into an industrial warehouse, where fluorescent white light beckons, blinds and bombards spectators in an array of mind-altering flash bolts. An intensity that actually distorts vision and even direction; so much so that standing upright becomes a complexity.

This was the astounding atmosphere that Nonotak’s SORA disturbingly and delightfully devised. Located in Dark Park, the dark and deserted warehouse features kinetic beams oscillating and surging due to an imperceptible wind, and it evokes the entrancing landscape of the Japanese night sky. For this writer, feelings of weightlessness and even delirium overtook the mind, body and soul to the extent that time and space disappeared and escaped my consciousness.

I returned the very next day, as did thousands more festival goers.

“Brought to light once again.”

HYMNS TO THE DEAD at the Odeon

Imperial Triumpant, Hulder, Spectral Wound and Slimelord
Odeon Theatre, Hobart TAS
‍June 11, 2025

‍“The eye is always caught by light, but shadows have more to say.” – Gregory Maguire.

Although this award-winning writer from New York is more-than-likely, thousands of kilometres away from Hobart, when this event took place, his quotation above is remarkably befitting to the extreme metal mini-fest known as Hymns To The Dead, and as a counterpoint, to the SORA light exhibition.

‍SORA caught the eyes of thousands of people, Hymns To The Dead deafened and exhilarated capacity crowd into a headbanging oblivion.

The amazing fact that Mr. Maguire’s most celebrated work is for a novel turned Broadway Musical, and now Film series entitled Wicked, is all the more suiting as a theme for the devastating sounds of heavy music articulated by the four international outstanding outfits on this night.

Understandably though, this scribe has “more to say.”

Before the opening act, the self-professed swamp death metal band SLIMELORD were to take the Odeon stage, the backing soundtrack was of a rather peculiar atmosphere. One would expect music of heavier realms, possibly of the bands performing this evening, or even past groups who have played this Wicked mini-fest. This was not to be, the noises of birds chirping and echoes of the wilderness’ natural tranquillity hypnotised the attendees. This was assuredly to be short-lived, as soon this serenity was to become savagery.

The Leeds-based quintet crept onto the stage while the theatre was engulfed in pitch black, the suitably green lighting glowed once the initial post-black metal riff of ‘The Beckoning Bell’ sensationally scoured through the sound system. The remaining musicians then exploded in tumultuous resonance, as if igniting a wildfire to the swamplands their soundscape is inspired by. A siren-emulating guitar riff had every spectator at full attention – this metallic bell was undeniably beckoning.

Vocalist Andy Ashworth bellowed and screeched as if he had morphed into a prehistoric bear – it was brilliantly barbaric. The seven-minute epic moved between sludge, blackened death, and even deathcore enthralments. It was achieving the point of overstimulating, but it was impossible to remove one’s focus from the engrossment.

“Thank you, we are SLIMELORD from Leeds, UK.”

‍‘Gut-Brain Axis’ experimented with death and doom fusions and spoken word passages. It was creepily evil and dazzlingly devastating. The guitar solos would have had Skwisgaar Skwigelf saying “That isk not sucking”; Dethklok aficionados would surely appreciate how significant this statement is.

‍‘Batrachomorpha Resurrections Chamber’ fascinatingly fused Black Sabbath movements with the extreme metal of previous HTTD performers Canada’s Chthe'ilist. ‘Tidal Slaughtermarsh’ then exhibited moments of Encircling Sea, with intervals of noise rock and the marvellous melancholia of Darkthrone. It was all over a bit too soon, but as for an introduction to Australia and an initiation into Hymns’ mini-fest, SLIMELORD were lords of the swamp.

On this correspondent’s sixth venture to the festival, there is undeniably one constant that has occurred every time, a jaw-dropping discovery that builds a fondness beyond fandom; an obsession. Canada’s Spectral Wound were that outfit, and their expansive blackened death rock’n’roll was a maniacal magnificence that shone light and embraced darkness in scintillating synchronicity.

An eerie march onto the stage introduced the Canucks to Hobart, with each member presenting their instrument to the audience, besides vocalist Jonah. The frontman hid away to a degree, facing the drummer, and when the opportunity arose, enjoyed swigs of a Cascade Lager. ‘Fevers And Suffering’ was the launchpad and instantaneously, that celebratory aura was felt immensely. A black metal instruction is without doubt, a paramount part of the five-piece’s formula; however, there is so much more incorporated with their artistic conveyance which separates Spectral Wound from an ocean of outfits within that sound domain.

Earlier Kvelertak and primitive Deafheaven are brothers in rockin’ metal racket, though this just sheds light on the spectrum. Spectral Wound incorporate a skate punk undertone that is exemplary. Their sound is seismic and thrilling and when Jonah screeched: “Join us, join us, join us in decline…” during ‘Aristocratic Suicidal Black Metal’ – Tasmania did, Cascade fuelled and loving it. The mosh was jumping, cups seemed to fly from every angle of the venue, and Spectral became celestial party animals in merriment of extreme metal madness. ‘Less And Less Human, O Savage Spirit’ harnessed a punk rock groove that was above infectious, ‘A Coin Upon The Tongue’ was an anthem MØL wish they crafted and ‘Twelve Moons In Hell’ burnt an imprint on the souls of the theatregoers that simply read: “Spectral Wound”.

There are few opportunities in life when one gets to experience the “bucket list” band. Washington’s Hulder are of that classification for this South Australian wanderer. Essentially a one-woman forest dwelling black metal project, the idea of seeing Marz Riesterer perform in Australia appeared to be above inconceivable.

Until Dark Mofo 2025…

In the twilight of Odeon’s obscurity, the band floated onto the platform – strikingly a wiccan aura encompassed the building. Cavernous noises of sinister ambiance bounced off the walls; surprisingly this was not a raw sounding emittance, it was a full production and ceremony. Monumentally, this was to be THE experience. ‘Bestial Form Of Humanity’ was given a full theatrical treatment, the eminence of foundational acts Ulver, Myrkur, Behemoth and Emperor all coalesced in a discordant cacophony of symphonic black metal hysteria. This showcase was not just an illumination of who Hulder is – it was a ritual that enveloped Tasmania. This vivacity was broadcasted in every track throughout the exhibition; the new album Verses In Oath is a black metal paradise. 

One show was not enough; this artist needs a nationwide tour under captivating production nationwide to properly present HULDER.

‍Imperial Triumphant are a New York based jaunty progressive death metal three-piece clothed in long, flowing black robes and gold-coloured masks that are reminiscent of historic Egyptian trends and almost sex cult complexions.

Feel free to re-read that introduction…

‍‘Goldstar’ opened their ceremony; it trickles in with what seems to be a century old butter commercial soundtrack – haunting. ‘Lexington Delirium’ follows with a prog-country-metal guitar ambience and continues to become more jangular and terrorific as it unfolds. Bassist Steve Blanco is instantly enigmatic, twitchy dance moves, odd poses, perplexing crowd interactions and infectious odd energy overwhelm the witnesses. Zachary Ezrin is the guitarist and vocalist, but the limelight is shared equally. Drummer Kenny Grohowski is thunderous in his performance, interchanging between heart-rendering cyclonic trouncings, to the most intricate jazz improvisations known in the genre. Due to this, it was an all-encompassing absorption for all present of musical oddity.

‍‘Gomorra Nouveaux’ was amazingly abstract and devastating, as if Anaal Nathrakh decided that sci-fi music for the Star Wars rebellion was absolutely in their wheelhouse – it probably isn’t, but Imperial Triumphant can undisputably pull this off George Lucas. ‘Devs Est Machina’ was not of this universe, in the best way possible, if we are to return to the Star Wars reference, imagine The Max Rebo Band undergoing a death metal makeover. ‘Chernobyl Blues’ was a jazz doom exploration, probably the national anthem to one of the weird planets in the franchise. It accelerated, probably under Han Solo’s instruction, but hey even Jabba The Hutt couldn’t deal with this intensity and speed. The force is with Imperial Triumphant.

‍‘Pleasuredome’ was the cinematic masterpiece of the extravaganza, it literally felt like the walls of the Odeon were going to collapse under the complexity of progressive death metallic hardcore, especially with the cabaret jazz interlude (you read that correctly). Then, the closer ‘Eye Of Mars’ was that frenzied pièce de resistance of non-sensical extreme metal grandeur that actually, describes this band flawlessly.

Champagne was sprayed, a bugle was brought out but not played in proper fashion, voices similar to robotic Daft Punk broke up the intensity of the expansive musical fusion. It was powerful, it was noisy, it was dark and light at the same time…

It was Imperial and Triumphant.

Words by Will Oakeshott @teenwolfwill