Bloodstock 2024 – Festival Review

Bloodstock
Catton Park, Walton-on-Trent
8th-11th August 2024

Bloodstock Festival returns to the normally serene environment of Catton Park, Derbyshire. It’s another hot one, and not just for the pyrotechnics. Simon Reed surveys the action.

It’s the second week of August. The UK seems to have descended into hell. There are pitched battles on the streets and rent-a-bigots conscripted via some shady online operators have discovered a taste for setting fire to things. In the midst of this, along rolls Bloodstock Open Air, a music festival that embraces only the heaviest of metals. Sure, at Bloodstock you can still gaze into the depths of hell and there is an abundance of pyro; but fortunately, the bigotry and intolerance currently prevalent in our towns and cities is left firmly at the front door. It’s a cathartic experience.

Indeed, besides the music, it’s the atmosphere at Bloodstock and the complete absence of discrimination against minority groups of any kind that keeps bringing me back here. Anything goes, and everyone embraces it. This year, that also includes dinosaur themed fancy dress which finds inflatable T-Rex’s mixing it with inflatable Pterodactyls in the circle pits.

It’s a great size too. It might be dwarfed by the somewhat more mainstream Download, but it’s far more than just a niche, boutique affair. As well as a little stage in the Serpents Lair VIP area, there are four others. The biggest, the mighty Ronnie James Dio, has all the biggest hitters; but it’s pretty mainstream in so far as any of this stuff is. The circle pits have large diameters. Sometimes very large diameters. There’s a complete absence of shade and when it’s hot, my word, it’s hot. The Sophie Lancaster stage is under canvas and always serves up at least one performance so quirky I leave questioning whether it was all a bizarre fever dream. The EMP stage is a tarp with open sides stretched over a few hundred square feet that has a special atmosphere all of its own. Finally, the New Blood tent offers space to winners of heats in Metal To The Masses, a grassroots competition championing unsigned bands. You might witness the next big thing in here. At the very least, you find bands looking to be seen, giving it the beans.

My first foray this year is to check out one of those bands in the New Blood Tent; Norwich-based By Virtue Fall. It’s a late morning slot but there’s a respectable crowd along to soak up a metalcore sound that the band describe as ‘a sonic assault on the senses’ and I can ascribe to that. You wouldn’t play it to your grandpops.

There are a commendable number of female-fronted/fully female formed bands this year, and one such in the latter category is Nervosa, my first appointment on the Dio stage. The Brazillian four-piece play classic thrash to an appreciative crowd. Frontwoman Prika Amaral gives it the growls.

Next up on the big stage are Green Lung, one I was particularly looking forward to, having seen them atop the mountain blowing away Steelhouse Festival a couple of years ago. They eschew machine gunning 32nd note kick drums in favour of doom/stoner rock; more Black Sabbath than black metal. They’re a band most certainly in the ascendancy, as evidenced by a crowd which is exceeding anything that might be expected of a modest Friday lunchtime slot. Green Lung close with One For Sorrow and a request for the slowest circle pit in history. It starts with some swirling keyboards. “It’s OK, you can do it during the ambient bit” instructs frontman Tom Templar. Then there’s an admonishment: “That’s walking pace! What do you think you’re doing?”

By early afternoon, the sun is beating down and the shade in the New Blood tent feels an appealing prospect again. There’s two types of performance in here. The majority are bands in the early throws of their existence giving it everything to impress. I’ll see loads through the weekend, but right now I’m watching Somerset rock band Tim Whyte and The Deadbeats and they’re revelling in the other type of performance; just out to have the best possible time. Frontman Whyte is clearly slightly mad and the whole band are hugely enjoyable.

Delivering the ‘giving it everything to impress’ performance variant on the New Blood late on Friday are Born Zero. They were M2TM finalists in Birmingham and have filled a slot vacated by West Lothian’s She Burns Red, who sadly pulled out of Bloodstock due to unforeseen family circumstances. Born Zero take full advantage of the opportunity and are excellent. Vocalist Levi Louie has enough energy to run a small town and more jumps than a knackered Reliant Robin.

Before the weekend is done, I’ll see other high octane sets on this stage from Convey, Black Hole Divers, Crucible and Sathamel; and one that really stands out from Brighton-based Crowgod, who headline on Sunday. Crowgod are fronted by Alana Rose Martin, who is enigmatic and engaging in equal measure. Her barefoot movements alternate between the ethereal and the extreme; they complement Crowgod’s doomy sludge to perfection.

There’s more female-fronted activity on the Sophie Lancaster stage on Friday when the symphonic death metal of Dutch band Haliphron makes the canvas flap. Singer Marloes Voskuil is another remarkable vocalist with a growl so intense she could leave a grizzly with knackety knees.

I’m happy to admit that I’m far from a connoisseur of the more hectic musical offerings on offer here; but I’m fortunate to have a couple of mates who really know their stuff and they steer me in the right direction. An example where help is required is for the band Hatebreed, who despite being a metal powerhouse of two decades standing, are not making my radar bleep. My guidance material was that Hatebreed are ‘Biohazard on steroids’. Having seen and photographed Biohazard up close a couple of times, it’s hard to visualise how crazy the spectacle of ‘Biohazard on steroids’ might be. The first clue presents upon entering the Hatebreed photo pit, where the provision of crowd control personnel to help punters over the barriers has multiplied three-fold. The second clue presents as we are banned from standing on step stools to get a better view of the stage. When the band starts, all becomes clear and a crowd surfing conveyor belt ensues. An enormous branded black inflatable with ‘Ball Of Death’ written on the side bounces around the arena.

There’s still time for a couple of standout performances before Friday headliners Opeth close out the Dio stage. On Sophie, Icelandic proggy rock three-piece The Vintage Caravan are superb; though it’s hard to know what I’m more taken with – the excellent musicianship, or bassist Alexander Örn Númason’s gloriously camp cut-off denim shorts and cowboy boots combo.

Clutch are the penultimate act on the main stage. The sun is setting behind the audience and it’s blinding. Accordingly, frontman Neil Fallon performs in the darkest of shades. Clutch are a proper rock band, but compared to some of the acts on this weekend it’s like spending an hour with a crooning Ed Sheeran. That’s not to say it’s wimpy shit; it most certainly isn’t. Fallon is superb and truly engaging and the music is excellent. Sometimes, it’s just nice to get a break from the rumbling of double kick drums, and the audience seem to think the same. Clutch go down a storm.

Opeth start shortly after 9pm and are the only band on the Dio stage to benefit from any semblance of noticeable stage lighting; or at least they would, were they actually being lit by any. There’s a spangly matrix screen behind the band and some moody blue hues from above but not a whole lot of spotlighting. It’s not great for photographers but does suit the progressive death metal vibe of a band, who, after 35 years, remain at the top of their game. In sonic terms, think of a gruffer version of Rush only with Scandinavian bassoon vocals instead of Canadian tin whistle ones. In a fine display of democracy in action, the fanbase voted for the setlist. Frontman Mikael Åkerfeldt explains with glorious self-deprication “This is why it’s all old songs. We haven’t done anything decent in 15 years.”

There are no clashes during a Dio stage headliner at Bloodstock – I suspect the result of a contractual arrangement rather than a practical one. This means a long wait for Igorrr, the final band under the Sophie canvas, and an exodus from the main stage arena that Moses would be happy to put his name to.

Having never heard of them, I don’t know what to expect from Igorrr and this is a good thing because with zero expectations, what follows is even more insane. Igorrr is actually the name of the musical project ascribed to French musician Gautier Serre and Wikipedia describes his sonic offering as ‘a variety of disparate genres, including black metal, baroque, breakcore and trip hop’. It is as strange as it sounds. Given Serre lists his influences as Chopin, Bach and Cannibal Corpse, this perhaps ought not to come as a surprise.

The show starts with retina-piercing searchlights from the back of the stage whilst a DJ on a podium spins some disks. When Serre appears through the gloom, he’s not easy to spot as he’s dressed in black and appears to have rolled around in a pre-lit barbeque. He’s easy to hear though; the growls are as intense as anything I’ve heard today. And just as you get used to the growls, up pops Marthe Alexandre in a flowing red dress to sing mezzo-soprano operatic parts. When she’s not singing, she spins around, bangs her head and/or generally just looks demonic; this is a metal gig after all. This year, as every year, the Sophie Lancaster tent has served up its slice of weird.

Saturday dawns. It’s the only day of the festival with any probability of rain in the forecast and there’s a bit of light drizzle in the air. Following yesterday, many (including me) are donning the after sun and, as tomorrow is scheduled to be the hottest day of the year, I think we’re all happy with overcast skies for now.

UK black metallurgists Deitus open up the Dio stage. The arena is respectfully full but if anyone was hoping for a gentle start to help get over Friday night’s excesses, they don’t get it. The music is brutal. So is the face paint; the band look like they’ve collectively been through a car windscreen.

There’s further gender equality on offer on the main stage today. Next up are Ukrainian melodic metal band Ignea, and their frontwoman Helle Bohdanova is standing next to the blue and yellow flag of their nation that we’ve all come to know so well. There are a few Ukrainian flags of solidarity in the arena too and the band spend time thanking the crowd and the wider UK audience for their support. Helle is not unlike Tatiana Shmayluk of similarly Ukrainian band Jinjer in that she can switch from angry growls to sweet, pitched vocals at will and in the blink of an eye. I don’t know what the Ukrainians put on their cornflakes, but they seem to churn out these amazingly talented and versatile singers with regularity.

Ignea are followed by Brazillian all-female death metal four-piece Crypta. Crypta actually share some DNA with yesterday’s Brazillian all-female death metal four-piece, Nervosa, who appeared on the same stage almost exactly 24 hours ago. My untrained ears can’t really tell them apart, though Crypta do have a slightly more indecipherable logo; and if you know your extreme metal bands, you’ll know that indecipherable logos are very much de rigueur.

The Sophie tent is offering more quirky stuff this afternoon. US band Ludovicho Technique attract a large crowd. Frontman Ben V is an arresting figure, all face make up and talons, whilst the rest of the band prefer masks, shawls and complete anonymity. German trap-metal artist Mimi Barks follows. A drummer and an anonymous figure behind a deck assist in the sonic landscape. There’s not a pointy shaped electric guitar in sight, but Mimi makes up for this with plenty of angsty writhing and contortions. It’s pretty intense stuff.

Also pretty intense, but in an altogether more humorous vein, I find UK grindcore band Public Execution for their 30-minute set on the EMP stage. This space always delivers something special, and for me this year, this is it. Vocalist Kyle Townsend has a couple of sheets of A4 under his feet covered in writing. I figure it must be lyrics until it becomes clear it’s actually the setlist because each song is at most around 45 seconds long and there’s a lot of them to get through. They all sound essentially the same (crashing guitar and drums – there is no bass) plus screamed unintelligible vocals. Fortunately, Kyle introduces each one and gives us the lowdown, though some don’t really need much explanation. The song You’re A Fucking Prick for example, weighs in at around eight seconds and exclusively contains the lyric “You’re a fucking prick”. You get the idea. Under the tarp it’s packed, the crowd is well into it and the whole thing is a hell of a lot of fun.

Back on the Dio stage, things are a lot more serious. First, the day’s ongoing battle between drizzle and sunshine has been lost by the drizzle and the sunburn is now getting gently baked again. Secondly, Floridian death metal veterans Deicide are rearranging some internal organs with music of the most intense kind. In his youth, singer Glen Benton proved his metal credentials by getting an upturned cross branded into his forehead. It was about this time he decided he was probably never going to be a chartered accountant. These days, the scar tissue is still there if you look for it and though his appearance might be less satanic, Benton’s music certainly isn’t.

Tennessee deathcore band Whitechapel follow, and before anyone has time to draw breath Malevolence, Sheffield’s masters of metalcore, are up for their third Bloodstock appearance in four years. I’ve seen the other two performances and there’s no denying the band are fully deserving of their inexorable rise up the main stage schedule. This year they are the final band to play on the Saturday Dio undercard, and I’ve no doubt in the eyes of many they are the de facto headliner. The audience are up for it.

It was always going to be an intense affair. This is confirmed when once again the crowd control measures have multiplied. and for the second (and last) time there is a prohibition on use of step stools in the photo pit. What follows exceeds the wildest expectations of security, the audience and probably even the band themselves. It goes completely nuts. A record 901 crowd surfers go over the barrier in a 75-minute set; that’s one every five seconds. A circle pit forms around the sound tower that is so wide the peripheries take out the people not looking to get involved. I’ve no doubt the people who loved it absolutely fucking loved it, but the performers also have a responsibility to keep people safe. If history such as the shitshow that was Woodstock 99 tells us anything, it’s that there’s a fine line to tread and if you step too far over it, things can get very ugly, very fast.

Things certainly do get very ugly, very fast for Sylosis and their set in the Sophie tent. During opening number Poison For The Lost, it’s clear things are not all well with singer Josh Middleton’s guitar. There are some roadie interventions that remind me too much of Nigel Tufnel’s radio pack picking up the USAF in Spinal Tap and if that isn’t awkward enough, the entire guitar and its backline then goes down. It’s hard to conceive how this can happen given the band have just concluded a successful soundcheck, but we are where we are and no amount of fiddling with things seems to fix the problem.

You have to feel for Middleton, who is suffering every guitarist’s worst nightmare and it probably doesn’t help that his ex-touring band, Architects, are about to headline the Dio stage. “The trouble is, in these situations I don’t know any jokes. I’ve only got riffs”, he says. It feels imprudent to point out that that was a joke, and under the circumstances not a bad one. He goes on to perform vocal duties only and the set proceeds with no lead guitar. The band pick up a lot of well-deserved love in the process.

It’s fair to say that Architects were not a universally popular choice as one of the headliners for this year’s Bloodstock. Having had the temerity to sound a little less metalcore and a little more accessible in recent years, the band even have the chutzpah to play some of the new stuff live. And don’t get the most hardcore of metalheads started on the confetti canons at the start; that’s the sort of thing Taylor Swift would do. If you can see through the mist of incredulity and accept a band can be allowed to evolve, what we actually get is the highly professional delivery of anthemic singalong bangers like Deep Fake and Animals mixed with plenty of older, more brutal stuff such as Gravedigger, Royal Beggars and Nihilist. The former actually sound pretty good in the Derbyshire air and the latter should surely keep all but the most ardent of extreme headbangers happy.

Appropriately for a Sunday morning slot, festival favourites and local lads Raised By Owls come out dressed as priests. It’s all part of the comedy schtick that gives us song titles such as Ross Kemp On Gang Bangs and I’m Sorry I Wore a Dying Fetus T-Shirt To Your Baby’s Gender Reveal Party. Frontman Sam Strachan brings out his mum Barbara who, whilst dressed as a nun, offers to show the party faithful her tits (her words) if they show up to the signing tent.

As promised, the final day at Bloodstock turns out to be a scorcher. I’m in t-shirt and shorts and I’ve new found respect for the inflatable dinos. The temperatures in those suits must be nearly as devastating as an asteroid wiping out the Yucatan Peninsula. The net result of all this is that today I spend more of my time chilling, people watching and actually sucking up the atmosphere than I do racing between stages with the camera – at least until the sun has begun to release its grip on the day.

If Raised By Owls were the morning fun for the Dio stage, the afternoon variant comes in the form of Dave King and his band of Celtic punksters, Flogging Molly. You might think a band who occupy a space shared by the likes of The Dubliners and The Pogues might be out of place at an extreme metal festival, but King is in his element here. In the 1980s, he used to front Fastway with Motörhead’s ‘Fast’ Eddie Clarke, after all. This is just as well, because Flogging Molly’s hugely enjoyable and well received set is in fact a warm up for Carcass, one of the nastiest bands on all weekend. With song titles on offer such as Reek Of Putrefaction, Genital Grinder and Exhume To Consume, Liverpool’s finest grindcore export really aren’t ones for the vegetarians.

I might have been less enthused with the camera today, but one I’m definitely headed to is Infected Rain in the Sophie Lancaster tent. It’s not for the music so much as the visuals, for Infected Rain have in Elena ‘Lena Scissorhands’ Cataraga (vocals) and Vadim ‘Vidick’ Ojog (guitar) some of the finest dreads in metal and they certainly know how to use them. They bang their heads, they flail their hair, and Lena in particular has locks so extreme that when they’re thrown about she more closely resembles an alien character from Doom than the consummate singer she is. It’s not for nothing that she was named by local media as ‘the most eccentric vocalist in Moldova’.

With the sun finally accepting defeat and the light show finally getting its chance to shine, Swedish melodic death metalheads Amon Amarth close out proceedings on Bloodstock’s premier stage. Of course, Norse mythology abounds and drummer Jocke Wallgren sits atop a giant Viking helmet complete with horns that wouldn’t look out of place at Disneyland. I’ve seen less pyro generally at this year’s Bloodstock, but my god Amon Amarth make up for this in the final 90 minutes. After the week they’ve had, any police constables in the audience are probably experiencing PTSD, and it’s so hot in the photo pit that when this is over I’m definitely going to be checking in the mirror for eyebrow privileges.

As we leave the pit, we pass a little army of cosplaying Vikings complete with spears and shields. They take our place for the rest of the show and they’re essentially the Dallas Cowboys cheerleaders of the Norse metal world. It’s all a little bit ‘behold the children of Stonehenge’, but is undeniably a lot of fun for all that. As is the custom, during Put Your Back Into The Oar, the audience take to their bottoms and pretend to propel themselves across the North Sea. It’s all quite silly, but at least it’s family friendly and a world away from some of the craziness the arena experienced just over 24 hours ago.

And so, my latest Bloodstock comes to an end and as per all my others, I really cannot say enough good things about it. Yes, some of the music is crushingly too brutal for my delicate ears, but the intensity, quirkiness and pure entertainment in some of the performances, allied to the spirit of the place continues to make this the most compelling festival experience of my year. Roll on 2025.

Headliners for next year have already been announced and they are Trivium, Machine Head and Gojira. Tickets are already flying out of the door and you can get them here, though early birds, campervan slots and all VIP options have already sold out.

~

Words and all photographs by Simon Reed, except Hatebreed ‘Ball Of Death’ photo by Frank Ralph. Simon’s website Musical Pictures is here and you can visit his author profile for Louder Than War here. He posts on X as @musicalpix and is on Instagram at musicalpictures.co.uk. He successfully retained his eyebrows.