The big review: Bloodstock 2024

Motörhead’s Bomber is hanging over the arena entrance at Bloodstock 2024. There’s a massive area cordoned off for the “official” late-night bin jousting. And on Saturday there are dozens of punters kicking around dressed as prehistoric beasts (and in Jurassic Park cosplay) for the festival’s ‘Dinosaur Day’.

This year feels like the fest’s biggest ever. Building on existing attractions like the videogame arena and battle re-enactments, metal-themed workout sessions, market stalls, and the excellent gallery featuring Lemmy’s ashes and a mock up of his dressing room, as well as exhibitions of photography by Paul Harries and Ashley Maile, there's enough buzzing activity to keep the average battle jacket busy for a weekend, even if they hadn’t booked any bands.

But Bloodstock have outdone themselves on that front, too. Stacking up rising forces Hellripper, Burner and Grove Street alongside peerless legends Opeth, Amon Amarth and Satyricon and new British heavyweights Architects and Malevolence alongside leftfield – for them, at least – offerings Clutch and Flogging Molly, it’s a hell of a line-up. Virtually every set we catch is a stormer, spurred on by a red-hot crowd enjoying the scorching weather. But with horns aloft and beers in hand we delve into the good, bad and ugly from one of the best Bloodstocks so far…

Hellripper do what they say on the tin as the party gets started on Thursday night. Where it’s sometimes felt like James McBain’s blackened thrashers haven’t gotten their full due at home in the UK, they’re greeted as champions, ramming the tent and setting off the circle-pit with sticks of solid sonic dynamite like All Hail The Goat and Goat Vomit Nightmare – starting a caprine trend that runs through BOA24 to Amon Amarth’s Heidrun on Sunday night. The violence threatens to get out of hand at points, with punters being pummelled into the dirt, but by a climactic Bastard Of Hades, everyone’s smiling through the blood and bruises at one of Britain’s fastest-rising bands. (SL)

Evergrey have serious Bloodstock pedigree, having cropped up before the festival even went ‘Open Air’ back in 2004, but they struggle to follow the chaos of Hellripper. For one thing, travel issues mean the Gothenburg prog-power metallers arrive at the festival without any of their own equipment and have to play on borrowed gear. Beyond that, somewhat akin to Friday headliners Opeth, they have dozens of deep cuts which helped shape modern European metal, but they’d rather showcase fresher cuts like Falling From The Sun or Misfortune, dipping into only the epic melodrama of A Touch Of Blessing from anything prior to 2016. In fairness, there’s loads of techy quality throughout the set, and it’s a small miracle they manage to play anything at all, but they could do with having a bit more fun to finish off a boozy Bloodstock on Thursday. (SL)

It’s quite the task to bring the curtain up on the Ronnie James Dio Stage for the weekend. It’s one Oxford riff champs Desert Storm make light work of, with a bag full of enormously heavy grooves, and exactly the right vibe to get in the mood for a whole load of rock in the sunshine. While their spine is one of Clutch-like bluesiness, which would be appetising enough on its own, they’ve also got a neat line in unexpected diversions, as well as a guitar tone to die for. Being visibly stoked to be in this spot, having appeared at the fest previously on the Sophie Lancaster Stage, only makes their 30 minutes more enjoyable. By the end, they’ve got a whole field nodding their heads and wiggling their arses, and it’s a well-earned victory for one of the British stoner underground’s most consistently dependable groove machines. (NR)

“This Sophie Lancaster Stage means something,” Burner frontman Harry Nott beats his chest as the they hit full force with a blistering EF5. “Fuck the far right! Fuck xenophobia! This is a song about tornados killing racists!” Still only on their second-ever festival set, the south London crushers have no right to be nearly as mercilessly brilliant as they are in the late-morning slot on Friday, but the Bloodstock faithful lap up a cocktail of black and death metal poured over some serious hardcore crunch. Songs as commanding as Pillar Of Shame and An Affirming Flame already feel capable of stepping up to the next level. (SL)

It may be an unspoken rivalry, but it’s hard not to compare Nervosa’s scourging Friday set with that of their old frontwoman Fernanda Lira and drummer Luana Dametto in Crypta in pretty much the same slot on Saturday. They attack Death!, Kill The Silence and Perpetual Chaos with exactly the levels of aggro those song titles demand, outdoing their São Paulo-based competition in terms of sheer ferocity. With a high sun desiccating the pit and dust really beginning to swirl, though, it’s evident most punters who’ve shown up aren’t interested in such redundant comparisons, and are more than happy to let themselves just be Guided By Evil. (SL)

In the 12 months that have passed since Green Lung were announced on the screens at last year’s fest, they’ve already managed to outgrow this lunchtime billing. If the sheer amount of shirts and patches wasn’t a clue, the enormous crowd they emerge to is proof that the London heathen doomsters have become one of the most exciting bands in British rock. Out under the sun in the fields of Catton Park, their intro tape’s promise to take us “Beyond the cities and motorways of modern England” to an occult Albion of “forgotten woods and mysterious standing stones” is easy to believe.

Mountain Throne, The Forest Church and a particularly deadly Maxine (Witch Queen) elicit enormous sing-alongs from the congregation, while on the orders of singer Tom Templar, Hunters In The Sky sees crowdsurfing bodies flying over the barrier. At the opposite end, they have the balls to pull out the quiet, folky Song Of The Stones in the middle of all this, before Tom demands the world’s slowest circle-pit for One For Sorrow. Dedicating it to those who’ve felt the cold hand of depression, his defiant declaration that “At least we have heavy metal to drown it out” is as wonderful as the joy of so many people belting out the chorus. Be in no doubt: Green Lung are awesome. If you still have yet to do so, open up your heart and let The Devil in. (NR)

It’s been a minute since Grand Magus last graced Bloodstock’s stages, but it’s pleasing to report that, other than the size of singer JB’s moustache, absolutely nothing has changed about the Swedish trio. Heavy metal as served by Judas Priest in the late ’70s is still the order of the day, Like The Oar Strikes The Water is one of the most iron-blooded songs you’ll hear all weekend, and JB is still one of the finest guitarists and singers you could possibly hope to watch. New banger Skybound is, predictably, a muscular piece of riffery, and it’s reassuring that a band can stay so unwaveringly true to the classic metal cause after so many years. One might wonder if a little more pomp and ceremony might not go amiss, but then again, with songs like Hammer Of The North and the powerful Iron Will in their arsenal, you’ve got all the power you might need already. (NR)

As wildfires rage on the outskirts of their native Athens, Greek black metal legends Rotting Christ bring their own infernal heat to Bloodstock. Just-dropped 14th album Pro Xristou (‘Before Christ’) came loaded with the biggest hooks and most accessible sounds of their career, and that sensibility spills over into even older tracks Non Serviam and Grandis Spiritus Diavolos today: an approach that wins them a legion of new fans. Their European tour with Behemoth and Satyricon should be one of the most devilish highlights of 2025. (SL)

“We are Wolf from Sweden,” announces Niklas Stålvind as the Örebro speedsters pick up to juggernaut momentum, “and we play British heavy metal. Coming here feels like coming home!” They get a fitting welcome, from an army of fans who’ve always been drawn to the NWOBHM-worshipping sound of Shoot To Kill, Shark Attack and The Ill-Fated Mr Mordrake. Almost 30 years into their own journey, they inject plenty of first-hand personality into those songs, too, with every air-guitaring maniac in attendance relishing the opportunity to Speed On! (SL)

As guitarist Ivar Bjørnson tells K! this afternoon, Enslaved somehow work at a much broader range of festivals than most. Turns out they also work at basically any time of the day. So it is that at teatime on Friday, the Norwegians’ proggy black metal feels like the perfect soundtrack, just as it would under darkness, or on headphones in a wintry forest. In particular, Forest Dweller sounds great, fully capturing the band’s sense of both vast Scandinavian chill and cool, weed-y psych. Indeed, the smell of non-legal cigarettes soon blows across the field, sweetening the sounds of The Dead Stare perfectly. The only thing missing is singer Grutle’s usual amount of Blackadder quotes between songs. Either way, they remain leaders in a field of one. (NR)

The heat is beginning to take it out of fans by the time Darkest Era sweep on. On one hand, the epic Irish metallers’ promise to drag us across Sorrow’s Boundless Realm and into One Thousand Years Of Night is an alluring offer for Bloodstock’s more melting inhabitants. On another, though, there’s just not the level of interest and devotion that a band with this much dark power deserve. Regardless, the handful of passionate Irish who’ve made the journey and refuse to wither in the heat eventually stoke an atmosphere worthy of The Morrigan. (SL)

Some bands have a wall of death. Hatebreed have a ‘Ball Of Death’: a massive band-branded inflatable that sends punters ricocheting across the pit before somehow ending up over the wall into the VIP enclosure where there’s an amusing struggle to get it back out. They’ve got walls of death too, of course. And push-pits. And circles. And a bit where a fan on one guy's shoulders somehow ends up headbutting another guy four rows in front of him. Three decades in, the Connecticut bruisers might not wield the same unhinged violence they did as fiery upstarts, but deathless battlecrys To The Threshold, Perseverance and I Will Be Heard confirm there’s still enough gas in the tank for frontman Jamey Jasta to keep his promise to come back and play here for their 40th anniversary in another 10 years’ time. Hopefully our ribs will have recovered by then… (SL)

The chances of Manowar ever playing Bloodstock are vanishingly small, and with American metal legends Manilla Road no more following the death of mainman Mark Shelton, there is a gap for herculean, biker-y, oddly catchy, unambiguous heavy metal to be filled. Hello there, Eternal Champion. From the moment singer and seven-foot bicep Jason Tarpey – a man who earns his living as a blacksmith – arrives onstage in an executioner’s hood, they have the Sophie tent enraptured by pure heavy metal mania. Is it cheesy? Piss off, poser. Is it awesome? Oh yes. Coward’s Keep and an absolutely devastating I Am The Hammer are pure metal perfection, while the band’s relentless, galloping energy is infectious for anyone who’s ever banged their head. Some wonder if Bloodstock has changed from its pure metal roots. Eternal Champion put a fuck-off sword through such nonsense. (NR)

On paper, Clutch’s brand of cranked-up, down and dirty rock’n’roll should be absolutely perfect for Bloodstock. And, dropping crowd-pleasing mega-bangers X-Ray Visions and The Mob Goes Wild within the first third of their sundown set, it looks like they’re on course to steal the show. The decision to leave aside big songs The Regulator and Electric Worry for deeper cuts A Shogun Named Marcus and Spacegrass – frontman Neil Fallon howling like a deranged preacher through thick black glasses into the setting sun – is a little more divisive, though, delighting a minority of their hardcore in attendance, but leaving broad swathes of casuals somewhat perplexed. (SL)

It’s wild to think, nowadays, that The Vintage Caravan first crashed into our consciousnesses as a band of upstart teenagers from a small town in southern Iceland. In a prime slot tonight, they’ve grown into a proper blues-rock machine, with frontman Óskar Logi Ágústsson cutting an ostentatious figure in tasseled white jacket and cowboy hat as his band kick out the jams around him. Throwback bangers Cocaine Sally and Midnight Meditation rock the space hard, and with decades still ahead of them it’s fascinating to think how far the these guys might still grow. (SL)

"You guys voted for this setlist,” shrugs Mikael Åkerfeldt with cod-hangdog resignation as Opeth’s headline set gets going, “which is why it's all old songs. ‘We haven't done anything decent in 15 years!’ Message received.” Of course, such accusations aren’t fair at all on the Stockholm legends, whose unheralded metamorphosis into one of the world’s pre-eminent prog bands rightly won them a legion of new fans. It’s just those of us who were there for the 20-odd years before that sorely miss the times when they were one of the best heavy bands around, instead. Our criticisms from Wacken last week still stand: seriously, how has a ‘fan-picked’ set ended up without a song like Blackwater Park? And as Bloodstock’s proper Friday headliner, the current eight track setlist feels a little insubstantial. But with big Mikael on feisty form (“What’s up, you Limey fucks!”) and giving the classics we do get – The Grand Conjuration, Demon Of The Fall, Deliverance – their dues, this third Bloodstock headline is proof that Opeth remain amongst metal’s most important and impressive elder statesmen. (SL)

“Ruin someone’s fucking day – everyone’s a target!” Good morning, Cauldron. At half 10 in the AM, some may find it a trifle early for the Brum hardcore quintet’s excellent battering, but there are plenty more going absolutely ham in the pit for them. Giving the metal aerobics just outside the tent a run for its money with an outbreak of two-stepping, they’re as great a wake-up as you could ask for. “I didn’t fucking come here to stand still!” yells singer Frazer Cassling with a wink, having just admitted that, “I’ve never been up this early.” He should do it more often. The breakdowns are chunkier than a lorry full of Yorkies, while their speedier moments make you wonder what the hell’s been going on when Frazer says they’ve never had a circle-pit before. Even a slight tech delay can’t halt the fun, and on a stage like this, you get a widescreen view of quite what gnarly potential this band have. Hubble bubble, we can’t think of a rhyme, but Cauldron are awesome. (NR)

Finding themselves in a pre-11am slot, Deitus are at an undeniable disadvantage here. Their brand of Satanic black metal feels a little exposed out in the pale morning light, and the thunderous rattle of Straight For Your Throat and A Scar For Serenity do anything but help the bangovers. They’re not the types to back down by any means, though, and eventually they take the field by strength of force. Extra credit for a closing cover of GG Allin’s Bite It You Scum: a special treat for those stuck conducting business in the oven-hot portable loos. (SL)

Is there anything unpeople can’t do?! Having already proven themselves at far breezier gatherings 2000trees and Kendal Calling this summer, as well as opening for fucking Metallica, the rising UK collective formed from remnants of Press to MECO proceed to storm Bloodstock, too, tempting an impressive midday crowd into the shade of the tent with the honeyed melodies of going numb and overthinking before knocking them cold with a cover of Nirvana’s Territorial Pissings. They somehow only get better and better on the phenomenal smother, moon baboon and garden. It’s on to ArcTanGent next weekend. Expect them to absolutely level that place as well – before continuing take over the world. Early Biffy Clyro levels of potential and excellence. (SL)

If their compatriots/old colleagues in Nervosa are the more intense of São Paulo’s (not-so) gruesome twosome this weekend, Crypta are the ones more clearly suited to stages as big as this. Much as she’s become a metal superstar in her own right, there’s something of the gurning uber-theatricality of Trivium’s Matt Heafy in Fernanda Lira’s relentless command of the crowd. Amongst the ferocious melody-tinged death metal of The Other Side Of Anger, Poisonous Apathy and From The Ashes, too, they’ve got truly heavy songs easily capable of engaging legions as big as today’s. (SL)

With no live guitars, electronics a-go-go, and a heavy rap element, it’s arguable that Mimi Barks is a weird one for Bloodstock. Then again, the German doom trap icon is a weird one everywhere. That’s the best bit. Here, her sinister, shadowy assault fits perfectly with the more evil end of what Bloodstock has to offer, and from the moment she barrels onstage in a PVC dress and genuinely unsettling contacts, she’s a force of nature. Playing at her audience, rather than simply to them, it’s an assault that, when it lands properly, perfectly displays Mimi's spooky, dark heart. She herself performs with the focus of one who is the very centre of the universe, scream-rapping her way through RAD with a focus that’s scary in its intensity. New songs like the furious Montana and House Full Of Fakes from her forthcoming THIS IS DOOM TRAP album are like a thrilling cross between music and barbed wire, and as she heads into the crowd at the end to cause more mayhem – and scare the unprepared – you’re once again left with the sinful feeling of having been part of something as exhilarating as it is disturbing. RAD, indeed. (NR)

Though the tents provide welcome shelter from the day’s hot sun, that’s simply a welcome bonus for those who have packed out the Hopical Storm New Blood Stage for Hellbearer. The Mancunian thrash squadron are like watching an old Bay Area VHS, all youthful energy and exuberant sonic violence, charging through each song like late entrants to the Olympic 100m sprint. A pit swirls in front of them, to their clear delight, and as they reach a breathless finish, it’s clear Hell really ain’t such a bad place to be. (NR)

With an inverted crucifix burned into his forehead and a trailblazing brand of blasphemous black metal, there was a time when Deicide frontman Glen Benton felt like one of the most terrifyingly dangerous people in all of music. For some here he still is: a broad contingent kneeling at the dark altar of Once Upon The Cross and Carnage In The Temple Of The Damned. With the advancing of the years, though, many now see Glen as one of metal’s kookier oddballs, with several punters turning up in Cookie Monster T-shirts in tribute to his absurd, infernal growl. Regardless of lingering fear-factor, the Floridians still deliver a scary good time. (SL)

With a beefy, classic sound that calls to mind the big riffs of Corrosion Of Conformity, High On Fire and Orange Goblin, London’s Flamebearer are onto a winner from the moment they start. Which would be good enough on its own, but in singer Andy Valiant they have the sort of frontman built for getting festival crowds having an absolute rager. His Buckfast cutoff lasts all of five minutes before it’s discarded and he’s proudly singing from his beer belly, assuming his true form as a wild-eyed mountain man, relentlessly demanding the attention of those gathered to watch their awesome riff fest. A cover of W.A.S.P.’s Wild Child only sweetens the deal and underlines their pure rock intent, and they clatter to a close with a clutch of new friends tucked in their pockets. (NR)

On paper, Whitechapel should be a perfect building block in this year’s metalcore-heavy Saturday. Packing eight albums and close to 20 years of techy deathcore, the Tennessee boys deliver the sharp, serrated sounds of Forgiveness Is Weakness and Prostatic Fluid Asphyxiation with high sheen. But up alongside the other, distinctly British bands at this end of the bill – and with a sunbeaten, well-lubricated crown frankly more interested in having fun than ripping each other apart – they lack the humour and relatability to really make their mark here. (SL)

More than once during Malevolence’s titanic sub-headline show, frontman Alex Taylor appears to be struggling to keep his scowl in place, tempted to burst out laughing at the absurd chaos unfolding in front of him. “Fucking hell,” he cracks, eventually. “This is a dream come true.” We could shout out the crunch of Malicious Intent, or the magnificent sludginess of Still Waters Run Deep, but the audience are the stars of the show. With full sympathy to the kids and camp-chair dwellers who got tangled in the chaos of a circle-pit round the sound desk, and the security struggling to catch all (record-breaking) 901 crowdsurfers, this is simply fucking awesome – to be part of and to behold. (SL)

Sylosis suffer some borderline catastrophic technical difficulties, with frontman Josh Middleton’s guitar out of action for a large chunk of their set. With his old (other) band Architects headlining the main stage – with a shout-out to Josh himself – there’s no danger that he’ll be letting this slip through his fingers, mind. Instead, the monstrously chunky sounds of a climactic Deadwood and Stained Humanity become testament to the importance of determination in the face of adversity. Victory snatched from the jaws of defeat. (SL)

It feels like many of the bone-headed brutalists and painfully conservative metal gatekeepers are out to shoot down Architects’ landmark Bloodstock headline before it’s even begun. They’re ‘too mainstream’, apparently, ‘not heavy enough’ or simply ‘haven’t earned’ this privilege. What’s most remarkable about the Brighton boys’ set – compared to those of, say, Parkway Drive or Killswitch Engage in recent years – is that they seem to feel no particular need to fight for it.

As at their even-bigger showing at Wacken last weekend, Sam Carter and co. seem almost too cool, treating this like another (very good) day at the office. And while the modernist munch of Seeing Red and Deep Fake does benefit from machine-like delivery, this is a band whose journey has been overloaded with emotion, so it feels odd not to see it spilling over at a big, big occasion like this.

Yes, Hereafter and Doomsday are still mind-bending trips into the darkness of grief. Sure, Animals is a song that will probably eventually buoy them into metal’s biggest leagues. And, yes, the vast majority of the crowd here are having a ball. But when the most memorable moment comes with a bemused-looking Sam facing off with a battle-jacketed stuffed goose handed over from the crowd (massive “GOOSE!” chants, obvs), it’s perhaps not the night to remember many of the hardcore had come to expect. (SL)

Raised By Owls know exactly what they’re doing. There’s been a full-throttle online onslaught in advance of their opening appearance, including a ‘Party Political Broadcast’ and even a news article on the BBC announcing that frontman Sam Strachan would be having his septuagenarian mum Barbara up onstage to join them.

If the local Derbyshire lads can talk the talk, they can absolutely walk the walk. This is a massive audience, and every one are left chuckling through their morning coffee/beer with self-aware bangers Comedy Metal Is A Fucking Embarrassment, Dance Like Barney Greenway and I’m Sorry I Wore A Dying Fetus T-Shirt To Your Baby’s Gender Reveal Party. They’re all dressed as priests, too, which makes Barbara’s extended cameo as a foul-mouthed nun – offering to get her top off for those who come to their signing session – all the more hilarious. We’re absolutely hooting. (SL)

“Do y’all motherfuckers like frogs?!” Counting the number of froggy hats in the crowd, as well as folk in onesies (in this heat) and one guy in the pit in full inflatable suit, yeah. Bristol’s Froglord are in some ways a very silly idea, with their robes, masks, scenery-chewing dramatics and amphibian idol at the front of the stage. They’re also brilliant, with a skill in thick doom riffs and stoned-psych bits that match the toady horsing around. Sadly, among ace titles like Die By The Slime, they haven’t yet done a Saint Vitus worshipping number called Frogspawn Too Late (that’s free, you can have that), but in a grand display like this, that would be gilding the lily… (NR)

Between sinister black metal bits, doomy moments and more on-the-nose hardcore chonk, Bristol’s Moon Reaper make sense of a mixture that can so often refuse to gel. Today, having been invited back after previously treading the New Blood Stage boards, they’re absolutely on point. Singer Şirin Ann Bozkurt’s growls are fierce, even as she smiles her head off, while Morgan Cradick’s riffs and screams cut a glassy slash through their weightier moments. Absolutely killer. (NR)

Sunburnt and severely hungover, Sunday at Bloodstock requires a band to either rattle the audience out of their sorry states or to simply soothe them through it. To some extent, Swedish prog metallers Soen adopt the latter tactic, with sprawling, humanitarian anti-war songs Memorial and Martyrs sprawling out in the sun just a few hundred metres from the UK’s National Memorial Arboretum. Really, though, these are songs that deserve to be really picked apart and dug into, and on a day like this, few in attendance are still capable of that kind of advanced thought. (SL)

Items that are less cheesy than Beast In Black’s barnstorming performance: cheesy Wotsits, seven-cheese deep pan pizzas, actual blocks of cheddar. It’s divisive stuff, to be sure. The more straight-faced in attendance – and a fair few of those with any kind of sonic lactose-intolerance – can’t stand the international power metallers’ OTT shtick. But a vast majority of the people here today seem entirely on board with the shredded synths and face-melting six strings of Sweet True Lies, Power Of The Beast and Blind And Frozen, as a Blade Runner-stylee backdrop plays out on the big screens like mid-’80s Maiden dragged through a parmesan factory. Expect Yannis Papadopoulos and company to have climbed much further up the bill on their inevitable Bloodstock return. (SL)

“What the hell is going on in there?!” laughs one dishevelled punter as he spills from the fray during a frantically chaotic showing from Grove Street. What, indeed? Part hardcore, part crossover thrash, all videogame-loving good times, the Brit upstarts have sometimes seemed to struggle to find their place between the aggro of the ’core scene and the old-school attack of metal. On today’s evidence, they’ve stopped giving a shit, chucked everything they love into the mix and started reaping some marvellous rewards. From the cowl-wearing, axe-wielding executioner onstage, to the multiple rubber dinghys and body boards carrying crowdsurfers over the barrier, and chill hip-hop beats bridging Caught Slippin, Born II Lose and The Path To Righteousness, it’s a bold, brain-mangling mix. But boy is it one hell of a good time. (SL)

“Good evening!” yells Warpstormer singer Richard Morgan at all of half two in the afternoon. “I have absolutely no idea what time it is!” Clearly, but the Warhammer-obsessed quartet are experts in ‘hero-questing space-crusading heavy fuckin’ metal’. Which is a bit like Orange Goblin at twice the speed. An exuberant whirlwind of hair, sunglasses, air punches and almighty yelling, the frontman is basically your air-guitaring mate who’s managed to get onstage, leading the band through their riotous stoner punk like an Orc warlord. “Do you like riffs?!” he yells at one point, after the band have already played loads of them and only dragged more people into the tent. It ends with him atop the crowd, clearly having the time of his life. There’s a new album in the can – miss out on it when it’s released, or be a heretic. (NR)

More than three decades into their existence, SEPTICFLESH have carved themselves a deep niche without ever breaking too far from death metal underground. It makes days like this all the sweeter, as thousands of fans descend on the main paddock to bathe in the sweaty blasphemy of The Vampire Of Nazareth, Communion and Hierophant. One of the hottest days of the year may have sapped some of the energy from their audience at this point, but A Desert Throne and Anubis were made to drag the shadow into such sun-beaten scenes. An ageless masterclass in their trademark Dark Art. (SL)

After the froggy fixation of Froglord, Goblinsmoker announce that their songs are basically about, “A toad king who spends all his time smoking goblins.” Clearly, there’s something in the (pond)water in British doom at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s getting results. The Geordie trio just have a knack for greasy, slow riffs that bubble with sinister menace, while frontman Adam Kennedy has the most maliciously thick guitar tone since Electric Wizard’s Come My Fanatics…, like a chainsaw made of fuzz. Only managing a hat-trick of tracks in their half-hour set (“This is our last one because our songs are so fuckin’ long,” he laughs), they’re nevertheless a thrilling trip through the bogs of doom. (NR)

Dave King seems more bothered by the fact his pint of Guinness is getting warm than any complaints that his legendary Celtic punks Flogging Molly are a weird booking between SEPTICFLESH and Carcass. Fair play, because they deliver one of the most rollickingly enjoyable sets of the weekend. Where violin-toting folk-metallers have always been ten-a-penny at festivals like this, there’s something refreshing about watching a band as soaked in the real boozy warmth of Irish folk jig their way through A Song Of Liberty, If I Ever Leave This World Alive and What’s Left Of The Flag in front of a field full to its brim. Sláinte! (SL)

If Carcass’ decision to wrap 2021’s Torn Arteries in artwork which substituted fresh (and not so fresh) veg for rotting viscera, some wondered if the Liverpudlian death/grind masters had lost their appetite for ridiculous rot. Not so, it turns out, as they fill Bloodstock’s massive video screens with horrible close-up imagery of wince/vomit-inducing infections and injuries, like kids who’ve just discovered rotten.com. It’s matched by a relentlessly gruesome sonic attack, with inimitable frontman Jeff Walker sneering through Genital Grinder, Pyosisified (Rotten To The Gore) and Reek Of Putrefaction with a look that dares us not to feel just a little bit sick. Disgustingly good, as always. (SL)

Amon Amarth’s titanic production actually feels like it’s a bit too big even for this stage. The towering Guardians Of Asgard, a horned helmet-shaped drum riser, and the massive World Serpent Jörmungandr are all competing for space with the most epic pyro show we’ve seen on these shores this summer. On top of that, there's an actual shield wall of cosplaying Vikings, and a band of musical berserkers at the absolute peak of their game. Top that with songs as absurdly brilliant and brilliantly absurd as Heidrun, Deceiver Of The Gods, As Loke Falls and Under The Northern Star, and the experience of being in the middle of this outsized show actually has an edge over last week’s career-defining Wacken headline gig because it feels like it’s bursting at the seams.

Better conditions mean the audience are able to fully indulge, too, going to battle in a bone-splitting circle-pit and having an embarrassingly good time ‘rowing’ along to Put Your Back Into The Oar. The question persists whether any band has the chops to take the more theatrical end of metal onto the biggest stages when the time comes for the likes of Iron Maiden to call it a day. And while, 32 years since their own beginnings, Amon Amarth are no youngsters, their ability to indulge metal’s sillier excesses – right to their Valhalla-rattling limits – without ever feeling like they’re taking the piss ensures they’re up there in pole position. Odin approved! (SL)

This summer's hectic festival run marks Satyricon’s first shows since September 2019, but there’s little sign of ring rust as they rock up to close the weekend, racing towards a midnight curfew. Just getting to hear songs as iconic as Filthgrinder, Now, Diabolical and Black Crow On A Tombstone would be treat enough after so long away, but Satyr, Frost and an ensemble of visibly overjoyed bandmates throw everything into a set packed with pent-up urgency and swaggering evil. A magnificent closing salvo of Mother North and K.I.N.G. sends everyone off into the midnight gloom on an unassailable high, but it’s the broader ability to mix adrenalised joy and delicious darkness that makes the great Norwegians the perfect band on which to close Bloodstock 2024.

Can Bloodstock 2025 top one this? With heavyweights including Machine Head, Trivium, Gojira, Emperor, Obituary and Creeper already announced, there’s every chance they can step up to another level of metal magnificence. Come whatever may, we’ll catch you down the front! (SL)

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Bloodstock 2025 takes place at Catton Park from August 7 – 10.

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