BLOODSTOCK OPEN AIR – CATTON HALL DERBYSHIRE 12/08/09 - 16/08/09

A DRUNK METAL FAN’S EYE VIEW!

Last year, I had the great fun of taking my far better half Dr McSquirrell to her first festival, and surrounded by fellow Metal Team UK scribes, we charged from stage to stage, flashing passes, taking photos, and reviewing for the joy of fellow metal heads. This year, a bizarre situation arose; with assorted work, family, and marital commitments, I found myself just about the only representative of the website you’re reading heading to the show, and despite promises of pit passes and free tickets, I just wanted to enjoy myself, and soak up the atmosphere of what must truly be the UK’s number 1 metalfest as nothing more then a fan. That said, bolstered one night by a belly full of scrumpy and a brain full of metal, I did promise a festival diary, so, viewed through a haze of mead, metal and mates, here we go.

Thursday 13/08/09

Firstly, let me point out, I’m an old git, and I’ve been going to metal festivals since 1986. Back in the day, I’ve turned up with nothing more then money for drink, the clothes on my back, and one memorable year a poncho and 24 bags of crisps stuffed in my pockets. Now, as I rapidly approach 40, with surgically rebuilt knees, and a pay packet that screams out for comfort, myself and my better half set off to meet mates at the car part at midday before the music starts, well equipped with food, booze, lights, inflatable mattress and electrical pump, and a multi-roomed tent that is a far cry from my poncho of old to get to Derby for Bloodstock 2009.

Arriving at just before midday, when we were promised the campsite would open, instead, along with hundreds of others, we found ourselves queuing in a field a fair old hike from the venue, and held for over an hour without explanation before an epic feeling cross country toil towards the arena. I’d felt guilty beforehand that I’d decided to buy a goods trolley to carry kit across, but after dragging just my campsite essentials along a grassy path (I’d promised myself no booze until the tent was up this year), I’m glad I’d given into the temptations of Home Base! Even when we finally got to the gates, it was galling to find the reason for the delay seemed to be that those on public transport and shuttle bus were ahead of us, and the car park was held back to let them enter!

Finally through the friendly security checks, and with wrist bands strapped in place, we met up with friends and headed to the camp site. Bloodstock had rearranged again, and campsite A, adjacent to the entrance was filling fast. Us wily old rockers waited for the B camp to open, and trudged in, a bit away from the main crowd. First thing I noticed was how many more toilets were on offer this year. I know, a devoted metal head shouldn’t care, but as a long time festival goer, I can assure you, a portaloo where you don’t need a step ladder to avoid your friend’s deposits is a must.

Camp is established, with fellow veterans selecting a spot away from the main drag, but with good loo access, and the important duties of the barbecue and meeting mates occurs, after a second trip to the car to grab food and booze (via the bar, of course) occurs.

The true joy of Bloodstock is that it’s a metal festival, pure and simple. Trends of Emo, Screamo, Pop Punk, and whatever tickles a Kerrang influenced adman’s sense of profit are ignored. As such, trendy wannabes are few and far between, and the camp fills out with true metal fans. The whole point of arriving a day before the bands start is not the excellent metal market, the fun fair, or the karaoke; it’s meeting with fellow steel bleeding metal fans that you encounter at exclusive gigs and festivals a couple of times a year and reminisce with. Floppy haired trendy fly by night fans are in a real minority, and as the barbeques are burning at one of the camp’s many fire pits, I’m able to meet friends old and new, and discuss metal through the night, fuelled by a mutual love of metal, lubricated by drink, and aided by a camaraderie that is rare to find. I’m told by the program that there was karaoke, comedians, and a disco with live show, but compared to friends old and new, it had little appeal.

Friday 14/08/09

Waking up early, and finding the local loos are still very usable (thankyou Bloodstock for the extra facilities), more mates area arriving at the car park, and another hike with the trolley, fuelled by a breakfast of mead and scrumpy, means the circle is complete for the weekend. Tents are set up with friends from Dundee, London, Nottingham, Glasgow, and Essex, and after a few elbow benders, it’s time for the metal to commence. Openers were meant to be cock rockers Million Dollar Reload, but a rumour is spreading that NWOBHM heroes Blitzkrieg are first on. Wolfing down the morning meal of toast, beans and mead (spot the theme!), at 11am Blitzkrieg open the festival in a storming fashion. I remember the band from a couple of decades ago, and only the vocalist is an original member, but none of the hundreds and hundreds who bustled to the main stage care; metal is being delivered with skill and grace, and it’s time for hair to fly and heads to bang. With showmanship and dedication, Blitzkrieg were a worthy opener to a worthy festival.

Drinking and meeting duties meant that the errant Million Dollar Reload did little but register as a background noise of cock rock, and Insomnium made no mark, but my German speaking girlfriend had me back to the front for Die Apokalyptischen Reiter. I’d never heard of, let alone heard this act, and as a leather clad gimp took to the stage, I convinced myself it was just another OTT German act. I stand corrected. Singing in their native tongue, and with me not understanding a single word, the total musicianship and enthusiasm of D.A.R. had the whole crowd circling, screaming, and pumping fists in the air. Chased around the stage by their whip wielding keyboard player, the constantly grinning vocalist had the crowd whipped(!) up to a frenzy. I don’t know what the band were singing about; I only know it sounded and felt right, and the grin of the vocalist was transmitted and plastered into every face in the crowd. All weekend, this was the only band I can remember to announce a last song, and have the audience chanting, ‘we want more! We want more!’ If unadulterated fun was a measure, D.A.R. should be selling out Wembley soon.

Next up on the main stage were Municipal Waste, the only non European act I could discern on the bill. Okay, I’ve seen them at Islington and Camden Underworld before and they were fun, but with the memory of Billy Millano blasting in my ears (the in-car iPlayer, set to random, had fired out a load of Stormtroopers Of Death on the drive here), the Waste just sounded like a poor tribute act. I know that the pit went wild, and that when they called for crowd surfers it looked like salmon trying to get upstream to mate, but somehow, it didn’t work for me.

Post lunch, my next band was Sodom, and my only conflict of the festival. Last year I was dashing from stage to stage. This year, with the quality of the main acts, I didn’t get to the unsigned once. This is no reflection on the talent at the unsigned, I was just too busy. It’s been a good 20 years since Sodom blasted out their thrash in the UK, and for the first half of their set I was wrecking my neck to their Teutonically efficient take on the genre. Sadly, Godsized were playing on the Sophie Stage, and I had to dash across. Dedicating their performance to the much lamented Les Paul, father of so many Gibson guitars, Godsized played a crushing set of blues inspired stoner rock. Okay, the lead guitarist kind of gave away the band influences with his DOWN cap, but this is a band that could well challenge the U.S. dominance of the genre head on, and win out with pure quality.

The main stage and Saxon now called, and for an hour Biff and his merry men plied a combination of classics like ‘The Band Played On’, ‘Denim and Leather’, and ‘Strangers in the Night’, bolstered with more recent numbers that held their own as leather and stud clad fists pumped in the air and threw the horns. With so many years of experience behind him, and an innate knowledge of what a crowd wants, Biff Byford led his fans through 30 years of metal, in an anthem laden set of timeless metal.

I’d like to say what I felt of Arch Enemy, who headlined Bloodstock in 2007, and the reformed Carcass, but drinking and socialising duties meant I missed both whilst my better half raved over the power metal styling of Pythia on the Sophie stage.

Saturday 15/08/09

It’s day two of the festival, and a morning fry up and drink up has the gentle background of Uncle Rotter and Battlelore, the necessity to drink more mead and scrumpy backed up with sausages and beans on toast meaning the first band of the day is Wolf. Clad in brand new matching Anvil shirts, this bunch of crowd friendly metallers drag a bunch of fervent head bangers on stage to support them through an all too quick blast of neck wrenching numbers. Their set may be short, but the fun instilled by this Swedish four piece for what is to come is high. The Nordic assault continues, with Entombed blasting all comers to the main stage with their good natured combination of thrash and death. Pummelling out tracks from their early days to the latest offerings had me moshing for all I was worth, surrounded by a phalanx of like minded fans. I know that I’ve often said I’m not into the more extreme metal, but here, Entombed were projecting what they had to say through growls and brain meltingly heavy riffs.

Any complaint I might have had about there being too little doom on the bill was displaced by the bass driven set of Candlemass. Okay, the vocalist these days looked like a bouffant version of Mitch Benn, and the band seemed constantly amazed to be playing in bright sunlight rather them a dark gloom, but Candlemass enthralled the whole crowd, myself included, with sonorous bass lines and epic vocals, combined with the vampiric posturing of Rob Lowe on vocals. Compared to his habit clad efforts of old, he held the crowd in the palm of his hand.

Following up the Germanic thrash of Sodom were Kreator. I’d already seen them more times then I care to admit, including this year’s superlative show at Camden, so the antics of waving the flag of hate didn’t get me in the pit, just had me banging along appreciatively at the back as true veterans in 20 year old plus shirts regaled me of tales of gigs of yesteryear. All I can say of Kreator is that, as ever, the music, the interaction, and the pit, were awesome.

Apocalytica passed me by in an alcoholic haze, and it was only with Blind Guardian, grabbed by the hand by my better half, that I left the pub tent to stagger to the stage. I admit, power metal has never been my thing, and Dr McSquirrel was wearing a ‘Twist in the Myth’ hoody purely because she likes dragons. However, as soon as they hit the stage, and I found myself in a sea of mythological shirt I realised why these German veterans had such a huge fan base; they can play. Crystal clear vocals of myth and magic cut through a soundscape of perfectly played instruments, having the audience chanting along to every vocal break, whilst every note was met with cheers and cries. I may not learn to enjoy power metal, but this superlative display had me appreciating it.

Next up were Cradle of Filth. Drinking duties took over!

Sunday 16/08/09

It’s the final day of the festival, and along with friends, having decided that Europe and Satyricon aren’t for us, myself and my better half start ferrying the campsite kit to the car. This doesn’t stop us enjoying the day’s opener, Beholder. Plying the audience with simple balls out metal, with every pumping fist adorned by a S.O.P.H.I.E. bracelet, and fronted by Si’s massive presence, whilst this band with their solo album might not breach the trendy market, their dedication to a selfless cause, as well as their uncategorised balls out metal had metal fans’ fists pumping and horns flying.

The next act I caught was Girlschool. If you like rock and metal, they shouldn’t need and introduction, and I’m not going to provide it. All I can say is, after the terrible recent tragedy that the band weathered, this four piece owned the stage with an hour of uncompromising rock. Okay, Angela Gossow from Arch Enemy may scream more extreme, but in terms of living the life, Girlschool know how to survive and play.

With the car packed and ready to go pre Satyricon, the final two bands I caught were Turisas and Amon Amarth. I’d love to put on my muso head and tell all about both, but it would be an unfair reflection. Turisas, with their army of red faced battle metal followers played the festival crowd for all they were worth, splitting the audience into rival chanting clans, whilst their hardcore fans waved plastic axes in the air.

Amon Amarth simply took to the stage, and for an hour blasted the world with their sagas of Nordic myth. I know, they claim to be death metal, and I don’t like the extremes of metal, but every vocal was growled out so that every word was heard, backed up by years of hard touring and a genuine joy of being on stage. My better half had asked me if there would be a pit, just before elbowing to the front for their set. I told her ‘yes’ but that was nothing compared to the desire of getting a decent photo of what must be one of the world’s premier metal bands.

So, without having drunk all day, I headed south on Sunday. What can I say to the organisers? Please, sort out the parking and trek to camp! Please, get 2008’s Brother’s cider back in the beer tents! Apart from that, would I go again? Here’s a hint; I’ve already paid for tickets for 2010 for me and mine!

Spenny Bullen Click here for photographs

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