FRIDAY
The home for those who worship The Riff, and all the far-flung places it can take you to, a sold-out Desertfest once again finds its community of longhairs, denim warriors and the facially hirsute hitting Camden in search of the next sonic high. Day one’s early-comers find are a bottomless chasm of repetitive sludgy soundscapes. Riffs reverberate around the Black Heart, often seeming directionless, yet always mesmeric. Bedouin-masked trio take desert rock into the Tatooine wastes at the Powerhaus, drawing you through a drone reverie whose Middle Eastern scales and rolling
