Dan Hillier
After all, music festivals are typically life affirming events. Regardless of their demographic and genre, the festival environment as a whole is one intentionally designed to a place where everyone can blissfully disconnect from the humdrum mundanities of life and the systematic anxiety that has long become entwined within the social fabric of modern life. They’re places to relax, pursue hedonism and revel with like-minded folk – certainly not environments to reflect on our approaching demises and what lies beyond the veil we all must pierce one fateful day. However, much like the populace of ArcTanGent discovered last month, it’s hard not to reflect upon the subject when greeted by Arizona’s Holy Fawn.
“Surreal. If I had to choose one word it would probably be surreal”, states guitarist and vocalist Ryan Osterman on the band’s full capacity set within the cavernous confines of ArcTanGent’s main stage. “It was a dream”, grins guitarist Evan Phelps on the subject. “As a musician, that’s the fucking dream. It felt like something I had visualised for a long time with these guys. It was so special to be able to look out and see that many people [watching us] play the first song we ever released. When we first went up there, I looked at Ryan and just started laughing. It seemed so ridiculous that there was that many people. It was incredible.”
Related: ArcTanGent Festival 2023: The Review – Friday
A vessel for ruminations on the nature of death and what may wait for us for when we are unshackled from our earthly bonds, Holy Fawn’s genrephobic sound – one they personally dub as being “loud heavy pretty noises” – mirrors the essence of thoughts surrounding mortality. As seen in their debut album Death Spells and last year’s wonderful follow-up Dimensional Bleed, their work is fatalist and suffocating. Yet, its doom-laced shoegaze and post-rock orientations are alluring, tender and haplessly and hypnotically intriguing. Above all else through, it’s intimate. Which is an adjective you wouldn’t ordinarily associate with ArcTanGent’s main stage, a tent designed to host somewhere in the region of 10,000 people.
“It was definitely scary at first, but as soon as we got into it, we just went into our normal mode of just shutting that part of the brain off and giving 110% energy and all we have”, cites Evan again on the set just hours previously. “Making sure that you’re putting 100% of your emotions in there is the best thing that you can do to keep such a large scale show as intimate as you possibly can,” continues Ryan. “Unless you’re a lead singer, you could go into the crowd and grab hands, high five, stuff like that. But for us, we’re dancing on pedals and playing guitar. I think the best thing we do is just be emotionally present and express our gratitude for the situation. Keeping that connection is absolutely pertinent to keeping it intimate.”
But as the conversation continues, we once again enter the realm of death. It’s a bizarre thing; as previously mentioned, festivals are environments host to nothing but life in its most verdant form. So the question must be asked – what’s it like playing songs on the most macabre subject possible in a setting reserved for affirming life? “I honestly didn’t really think about it like that, but you’re right”, laughs Ryan with a smile that counteracts the density of a subject some would deem taboo. “I mean, we’ve rolled into here and this is like this the coolest, happiest place on the entire planet. And we are just singing songs that are crushingly depressing.”
“The way I see it is that death and what lies beyond is the greatest human wonder”, continues Evan. “If you can recognise and appreciate it for what it is, you’re only going to appreciate being alive so much more. So I think, hey, death can be a relief” – a call back to one of their biggest singles – “but actually, enjoy right fucking now, living in the moment. It’s not gonna last forever.” Ryan, in the same vein, agrees. “This festival has been something that we’ve been wanting to attend just as spectators for years, so being able to be here is incredible. Yeah, we’re singing about some dark subjects, but I do think that it’s something we all tend to think about and gravitate towards, whether it’s intentional or an intrusive thought. You can lean on it if you want to go in a darker realm or you can use that as fuel to be in the present.”
Naturally, the human connection at the core of Holy Fawn’s sound and ethos works in tangent with the subject of death that lies in the band’s output. Often, death is a subject of great taboo; some, in an attempt to silence the prospect of its arrival and its finality, refuse to discuss it. Others, maybe requiring solace in the face of something so incomprehensible, must do so. For Holy Fawn, as Ryan explains, to be able to discuss this has been nothing but a crucial aspect that works in synergy with their ethos and values of intimacy and connection.
“We’ll chat with people before or after the set and they say, ‘hey, this has meant so much to me, I’m so happy to finally get to see you or see you again’. That personal connection is incredible. We’ve had people that have messaged us telling us, ‘hey, I’m undergoing chemotherapy right now and listening to your music during those treatments is honestly making this suck a lot less, or it’s helped me get through it or distract me’. I get absolutely stupefied and lost for words. I can’t fathom that. I’m so grateful that something that we’re so emotionally invested in and passionate about is helping someone in that capacity, even if it’s just one person. It’s colossal. The human connection is absolutely so important and special for us.”
“Talking to people about their experiences, interpretations of death and connecting with it has opened a broader view of it. I don’t know if it’s changed it, but it’s made me very conscious of the fact that it’s not just me, or it’s not just us that are dwelling on this kind of stuff. I think it’s a very intrinsic human trait to think about this kind of stuff. Whether it’s good, bad or you’re afraid or you’re positive about it. I think it’s something that definitely does bind a lot of us.”