We sent José Carlos Santos to check out this year's ace Roadburn Afterburner. He came back in one piece, so was all too happy to give us the low-down...

Roadburn 2011 was my fifth already, but this was the first time the gods of doom, airplane flights, hotel fares, volcanoes and other assorted ruling deities of this world converged towards allowing me to stay for the Afterburner. Just like how the festival itself became a part of my very own being, right from the first time I set foot on the 013 all those years ago, so too this little addendum will become a habit that no circumstances will ever take away from me again.

It all makes sense once you get to the venue (Midi Theater and V39 are closed for this). The Afterburner mood is a totally different one, and you suddenly realise why this isn't just the fourth day of Roadburn, and why it's called the "Afterburner". Lots of people are sitting down on the floor outside, tired and/or relaxed, the place is a little less busy and crowded, and there are fewer shows, with only the Main Stage and Green Room operating, which means fewer clashes and a fortunate absence of that anxious feeling of your four favourite bands playing all at once. The Afterburner is the perfect transition to the horror that is real life post-Roadburn, delivered at a time when you just can't, physically and mentally, take one more full festival day, but you still don't want to leave just yet and won't mind half a dozen more good shows to wind down before bidding Tilburg farewell for another year (unless you happen to be local or attend Neurotic Deathfest, in which case, I kinda hate you).

The choice of artists is apt from the beginning, as the western/desert psychedelia of Spindrift and the harder but still languid stoner jams of local Dutchmen Sungrazer compete for the crowd's early attention at 3.30pm. Both are sunny afternoon music, so the word "compete" isn't really completely accurate, especially as lots of people seem to switch hazily between the two almost adjacent rooms, as if the two bands are just two different parts of a very laidback whole. Sungrazer extend their set for a while longer than their temporary brothers-in-song for this afternoon, and just a couple of minutes after they leave the Green Room, Eli Brown's short but oh-so-sweet introduction is heard as a rallying call over on the Main Stage: "Hi, we're the Blood Farmers from New York, and we're here to play some doom".

Even if the legendary doomsters reunited back in 2007, a lot of those present haven't had the chance to see them live since then, so it's with a sense of extra excitement that this long-awaited concert is witnessed by an enraptured crowd. True to their horror theme, selected film footage is projected during the whole show, and while nipples and foreheads being sliced in half by a razorblade and Coffin Joe's creepy presence are seemingly at odds with the relaxed atmosphere of the day, they fit the heavy doom of the American trio perfectly. For those who indulge a wee bit too much in the pleasures of the sweet leaf, the rumbling basslines and the combination of gruesome images probably sends their mind into overdrive, but everyone survives the much-applauded performance and hangs around for what turns out to be the show of the day.

The Coffins guys seem to be as ecstatic as the audience when they come on stage, as vocalist/guitarist Uchino offers a broad smile, takes a photo of the audience and spends quite a long time admiring the huge projection of the band's distinctive logo behind drummer Ryo. Fortunately, all niceties stop when the aggression starts. The stench of putrid old-schoolness and total Autopsy worship (right down to Uchino's t-shirt and teasing intro to the last song) fills the air for just under an hour, a ferocious display with huge, cavernous sound and remarkable feeling from the Japanese trio. It's the tracks from 2008's 'Buried Death' that go down as highlights, but everything just reeks of pure doom/death metal perfection.

After this metallic rush, it's up to (or, rather, down to) Dead Meadow to inject some chillaxin' into the proceedings, which they do with typical aplomb. Minds are expanded, limbs become soft, and halfway through I bet everyone would just like a comfy sofa to collapse onto and to just let the Washingtoners' very particular brand of dreamy psych-rock wash over them. When we wake up, Dragontears and The Machine's Green Room shows are sadly long gone, but the hardest clash of the day is up next - the two Blacks, Black Mountain and Black Pyramid, are paired together, which means a bit of running to and fro is in order.

Fortunately, they're slightly mismatched timewise, so it's possible to witness the start of Black Mountain, with the lovely Amber Webber and the ridiculously talented guitarist/vocalist Stephen McBean and their shining smiles filling the Main Stage with atmosphere, devotion and amazing songs. Despite the wonderfully enveloping performance of the Canadians, halfway through the need for a stronger kick emerges, and so off we go to the Green Room,where Black Pyramid are shooting off those eternal riffs from their self-titled 2009 debut that we haven't forgotten yet, and probably never will. It's evil-sounding stoner at its best, easily up there with the best of this kind of thing we've witnessed in the previous three days from Ramesses, Acid King or Church Of Misery. Wait, Church Of Misery didn't play this year. Sorry, force of habit!

(video by Luana Magalhães)

There's still time to catch the final part of Black Mountain and they're still as wonderful as almost two hours before when they started, but to ensure our minds, bodies and ears are totally shot before we head home to resume the suckage of daily life, Sourvein come on and totally nail it, a bruising and passionate gig which forces our sore necks to headbang brutally for one last time. Troy Medlin has never exactly been shy on stage, but the imposing frontman seems to be in a particularly talkative mood tonight. As culmination to his often funny ramblings, right before savage and entirely appropriate closer 'Dirty South', he offers a shining piece of wisdom that unintentionally serves as  a closing statement to this entire Tilburg shebang we indulge in every year - "It's not their time, man, it's our time now!", he declares passionately. Right on, bro.

PS - If you prefer pretty pictures over long words, you can go here for an Afterburner photo gallery by yours truly!

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