Jonny Numb

How does one begin to encapsulate the blur of a weekend-long music festival? If, by some grave misfortune, you stumble across my old LiveJournal, you will find exhaustively detailed accounts of trips up to Montreal and Toronto for the long-defunct Kinetik Festival, including my impressions of the bands, the venues, and my general physical and mental state as the days progressed.

For a guy who doesn’t get paid by the word – or at all – I sure do like to write a lot.

Dark Force Fest was to be my first Goth/Industrial/Synth/Post-Punk/Whatever You Wanna Call It festival since Cold Waves briefly expanded its tentacular reach from just Chicago to Los Angeles and New York City in 2018.

Five years. Damn.

Five years ago, I was 37 years old. A fossil! (And the less said about the lumpy protozoa I’ve evolved into since then, the better.)

When one gravitates toward the spectacle of folks who man (and wo-man) synths on a stage with oft-distorted vocals, it goes without saying that the spectators aren’t the folks who typically turn out for (or have the disposable income to spend on) a Taylor Swift show.

And, not unlike the horror cons I’ve been to over the years, for all the extravagant fashion, art, and multi-colored hair on display, the folks at Goth/Industrial festivals tend to be some of the friendliest and most accepting people you could hope to meet. (Granted, there are some who appear offended to the core of their ashen souls if you don’t at least glance at the hours they spent putting their corsets and knee-high boots on, but I digress…)

When Dark Force Fest – and its superlative lineup – was announced late last year, me and my friend Lizard pounced on tickets and booked an AirBnB for our stay in the Parsippany-Troy Hills section of New Jersey.

An aside (before I never speak of it again): New Jersey drivers are assholes! (With apologies to my NJ friends who likely weren’t out driving at the exact same time we were over the weekend!) Seriously, though – what’s up with these maniacal death-wishers?!

I had been to the Parsippany Sheraton on two prior occasions for Chiller Theatre, so I had a modest awareness of the space. That said, I was curious and concerned about the possible turnout for DFF, since the fire marshal shut down Chiller due to capacity issues both times I was there (if people were liquid, then the corridors were a muddy river after a hard rain).

I still stand by my assessment of the Sheraton’s Bavarian facade: it’s like the castle where all the disturbed military men reside in The Ninth Configuration.

After checking in to our AirBnB (about 15 minutes from the hotel) and changing into our respective “going out” attire (for me: a recently-purchased blazer from Goodwill with some pins and a driver’s cap) and stopping for some much-needed sustenance at the delightful Hapgoods (another Bavarian-looking establishment), we headed over to the Sheraton. For all 3 days of the event, we were able to find a parking space in the main lot, and the hotel itself never became crowded to the point of being suffocatingly impassible.

To be completely honest, things seemed a bit off-kilter right from the start: we entered through the main vestibule (front-center) of the building (reception/check-in to our right; bar/restaurant to our left) and didn’t see any clear place to show our tickets and get our wristbands. (Later that night, someone would be positioned next to the restaurant, asking attendees to show their bands.)

So we ventured down the corridor toward the Grand Ballroom (where the bigger acts were playing), and found the staff checking people in. We picked up our wristbands and a program, briefly eyed the commemorative festival T-shirt, and began our weekend adventure.

“Yeah, Jonny…but what about THE BANDS?! We came here to read about THE BANDS, man! Goddamn!”

[sinister laughter leads to a whispered:] “To be continued…”