“Come, My Fanatics” It’s taken a good long while for me to write this reminiscence, much to Louise’s chagrin. It’s not my fault, though, I swear. After all, one does not simply review Roadburn. You’ve got to experience it first, let the dust settle, let it all sink in. There have been memories made, friendships forged, maybe a broken heart or beer bottle to contend with, and above all, there was the music – that glorious swirling cacophony of heavy riffs, howling voices, spacey trips, crushing melodies, industrial clangs, and even the odd blastbeat. So savour it. Swish it around your mouth like a dram of Laphroaig, and drink it down straight. Soak it all up like that first sunbeam after a bitter cold winter, and let yourself start counting the days ‘til your next stroll past the Cul de Sac and through the 013’s doors. We here at Iron Fist have what you might call a bit of a soft spot (read: all-consuming passion) for this most unique and welcoming of festivals, and are endlessly grateful to the wonderful Roadburn staff for inviting us along on their cosmic journey. 2013 was the best year yet, but then again, we say … Read More