Review: Nikki Hallam 

Let’s be honest, sleeping at Wacken was never really an option. The unofficial 6am alarm clock competition returned in full force this year. Neighbouring camps once again battled for the title of most ridiculous wake-up call, blasting the dulcet tones of animal documentaries, questionable bedroom noises and some truly painful bathroom sound effects. Nothing says “good morning, Wacken” quite like being violently awakened by noises you’d rather not identify.

Thursday marked the point where Wacken Open Air 2026 was in full flow. The campsites buzzed with anticipation, but with temperatures forecast to hit a sweltering 32°C, the hottest day of the week, many opted for a quick escape into the village to cool off at Wacken’s outdoor swimming pool. Rumour has it swimwear was optional. Whether that rumour was true is probably a mystery best left unsolved.

Throwing some electrolytes down the hatch after the previous day’s antics, we made our way to the Louder Stage for Northern Irish rockers Therapy?. Opening with Nausea, frontman Andy Cairns proved he’s as much a comedian as he is a musician, effortlessly whipping the crowd into the perfect mood. The band’s infectious energy was impossible not to feed off, and Andy’s dry humour only added to the fun.

“This is an old Irish folk song,” he deadpanned before launching into Potato Junkie, prompting thousands to gleefully shout, “James Joyce is fucking my sister!” at the top of their lungs.

To celebrate drummer Neil Cooper‘s birthday, the crowd was enlisted to chant, “Neil, Neil, drum like a motherfucker!” before he delivered a thunderous drum solo worthy of the occasion. They wrapped things up with their 1994 classic Screamager, where it became clear there were plenty of old-school fans in attendance. Forget the circle pit, this crowd opted for what could only be described as a ‘jumping for joy pit’.

With plenty of painful clashes on this year’s timetable, the unusually dry ground at least meant we could leg it between stages in good time to catch the end of a set. Next stop was the W.E.T. Stage for something at the complete opposite end of the spectrum: Swedish black metallers Craft.

Everything about Craft is raw and uncompromising. Like many 90s Scandinavian black metal bands, they arrived with fire and just enough nihilism to make you question whether smiling was allowed. There was no crowd banter or comedic interludes, just blackened, intense hatred.

Vocalist Markus, almost hidden beneath a curtain of hair with dirt-smeared arms, barely cracked an expression as the band ripped through their set with pure aggression. Their final declaration, I Want to Commit Murder, made for one of the day’s more surreal moments, as metalheads in unicorn onesies and oversized sombreros enthusiastically sang every word back while bopping about.

It was classic Wacken.

As powerful as the performance was, though, we couldn’t help but feel Craft deserved a slot after sunset, where their sinister atmosphere would have hit even harder.

Over on the neighbouring Headbangers Stage, death metal stalwarts Firespawn ensured Thursday’s heavier side was well represented. A towering portrait of the late Lars-Göran “LG” Petrov dominated the backdrop as an opening montage celebrating his life played across the screens.

“Let’s fucking headbang for LG!” roared vocalist Jörgen Sandström, who stepped in when the band reunited in 2025 following LG’s passing in 2021.

Frustratingly, the sound system had other ideas, cutting out three times during the set, although the atmosphere never wavered. The most poignant moment came before The Emperor, when bassist Alex ‘Impaler’ invited LG’s actual battle vest to be hung on the microphone stand, front and centre stage, before proclaiming, “Wherever you are reigning from on your throne, you’ll always be The Emperor.”

For one final farewell, Firespawn closed with Lucifer Has Spoken, accompanied by a sample of LG’s vocals. It was a deeply moving ending and, from the expressions on stage to the raised fists in the crowd, it was a fitting reminder that while LG may no longer be on this plane of existence, his voice and influence continue to resonate through Swedish death metal.

Wandering over to the Wasteland Stage, England’s Wytch Hazel provided the perfect soundtrack to dinner. Dressed in matching white tunics, they looked every bit like wandering minstrels on a quest, sitting somewhere between Monty Python and a travelling folk troupe, with guitars in hand.

Frontman Colin Hendra stood centre stage with a gold cross fixed to his microphone stand, confidently switching between soaring vocals and intricate folk-inspired guitar work, pausing only to dramatically flick his golden cape back over his shoulders.

As the crowd belted out the “woah-oh-ohs” of Still We Fight, the band’s infectious positivity spread across the Wasteland. Wytch Hazel’s rich harmonising and unmistakable 70s NWOBHM influence certainly grabbed passers-by and swept them into the show.

While their dazzling twin-guitar leads never felt self-indulgent, songs like Healing Power showcased the band’s softer side, wrapping the Wasteland Stage in a warm, almost magical hug.

With the Bullhead City stages calling to us all day, we were back in front of the Headbangers Stage and Norwegians Blood Red Throne were introducing something new while celebrating their past.

For many in the crowd, this was possibly their first opportunity to see new vocalist Sindre Wathne Johnsen fronting the band, and he wasted no time making an impression as Ripsaw Resentment tore through the speakers. His vocal style adds a fresh dimension to Blood Red Throne’s trademark sound, breathing new life into the songs while remaining true to the brutality that’s defined them since the late ’90s.

Tracks including State of Darkness and Deliberate Carnage kept a healthy circle pit spinning, while guitarist Iván “Meathook” Gujic stole plenty of attention with his Dimebag-esque stage antics.

Introducing Daniel “Død” Olaisen, the band’s last remaining founding member, was a fitting reminder of Blood Red Throne’s enduring legacy. Their groove-laden riffs made this set impossible not to enjoy, while Sindre’s assured performance suggested Blood Red Throne’s next chapter is in very safe hands.

The walk to the Harder Stage in the infield was enough to tell you something special was about to happen. It had taken 35 editions of Wacken Open Air for Sheffield legends Def Leppard to finally make their debut on the Holy Ground, and judging by the sea of bodies stretching into the distance, the welcome they’d been waiting decades for was well and truly earned.

You don’t survive nearly 50 years in rock without writing a few classics, and Def Leppard rattled through them with commanding presence. Whether they’ve been soundtracking your life since the late ’70s or simply make an appearance at every karaoke night, Thursday quickly turned into one giant chorus. We knew the words.

The atmosphere carried a real sense of nostalgia, helped by the giant screens displaying photographs from the band’s early touring days, a touching reminder of just how far these five have travelled together.

A surprise rendition of Personal Jesus provided an unexpected twist before the hits kept coming with Let’s Get Rocked, Rock of Ages, Photograph and, of course, bassist Rick Savage leading the band into Hysteria during the encore.

Joe Elliott remains one of rock’s most distinctive frontmen, his voice effortlessly balancing grit with melody into that stadium-rock sound we fell in love with.

Finally, the moment every fan had been waiting for arrived. As the opening lines rang out and they launched into Pour Some Sugar On Me, the heavens clearly decided sugar wasn’t on the menu. After four days of dust, they had other ideas, opening up and drenching the Holy Ground instead.

Nobody flinched.

Drenched and smiling through every word back at the sky, the Wacken faithful gave Def Leppard the welcome they’d waited to deliver.

One last surprise awaited as Wacken officials gathered the crowd for one enormous family portrait, destined to be printed on a festival T-shirt. Safe to say, I’ve already got one on order.

It was a fitting way to bring Thursday’s bands to a close.

By the time we wandered back home, the campsites had disappeared beneath a thick blanket of fog and temperatures had dropped enough to finally justify digging out a hoodie. At camp, the day’s debrief was well underway.

Sharing recounts of the day’s highlights, every ridiculous moment was picked apart over whisky, with each retelling becoming just a little less believable than the last.

That’s the beauty of Wacken. Somehow, the stories sound completely made up, yet every one of them is true.

The laughter carried well into the night, and before we knew it, Thursday had quietly become Friday.

https://www.wacken.com/en/tickets-shop/ticket-overview-2027/