Back in my day, the Dungeons and Dragons band of high school misfits occupied a territorial outpost in the cafeteria. Ramones tshirts, eyeliner on males, trolls safety pinned to their backpacks, the cabal exhibited an admirable idontgiveashit attitude toward the world. Largely offspring of wealthy AWOL and/or hippie parents, the kids found solace in fantasy or sci-fi realms. Fast forward to 8/31/25 at Neverending Books ( a logical extension of the cafeteria outpost) and the kids are all growed up. Armed with some keys, synths and noise boxes the group still exists. By day, they might be art teachers or work at Walgreens, but on this night, they got to gather with their fellow nerds and bask in their true selves. Dungeon synth is a genre that I’m hoping you’ll look up. A mash of “ medieval New Age music” with “Friar Tuck cosplay” ensued. Grab your flagon, pull up a bear skin rug and take a journey through the Epping forest soundtracked by this crew. How did I get here? Local renaissance (baroque?) man Adam Matlock has been hyped on this blog many times. He is the accordion vocalist focal point of avant weirdo outfit Dr. Caterwaul’s Cadre of Clairvoyant Claptraps, he sang on several challenging Anthony Braxton free jazz big band scores, and recently viewed with his skewed show tune bombast of An Historic. Fitting then, that he inhabits a dungeon synth persona named Herbalist. An unabashed wrangler, Adam forged a triple bill of the genre. I arrived late so I missed the Herbalist set, and it seems that Ozregoth from RI had transportation problems, so I was left to view middle offering Unsheathed Glory. From the bucolic pastures of the Berkshires, UG took to the stage. A solitary figure with two keyboards and some effects boxes, UG rambled through his set. Dressed in a Robin Hood shirt, headband, and calf high boots, UG did his thing. The instrumental music was mournful or suspenseful dotted with canned percussion and some wordless vocals. The music had some unsettling distortion, it was unclear if it was intentional. I’m assuming if unwanted, Adam would spring to assist. Towards the end of the set, UG pulled a sword from its scabbard, a touchstone of Glory Unsheathed. Absent was the parental admonition, “careful with that thing”. For those that think the D&D kids just gave up and conformed to the world around them, I am happy to report they are alive, well, and as weird as ever.
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