Review: Nikki Hallam

Friday

People who describe Wacken Open Air as “A metalheads wonderland” aren’t exaggerating, they’ve just been here before. Those lucky enough to live within driving distance seem determined to outdo themselves every year, turning the campgrounds into a festival all of their own. How do you know you’ve found a local’s camp? Oh, there are signs. This year our neighbours had somehow brought an actual sauna on a trailer, because apparently sweating out yesterday’s bad decisions wasn’t challenging enough already. Over the years at Wacken, we’ve seen hot tubs hauled in by tractors, fully built stages hosting their own bands and campsites that rival small villages.

Friday was off to a good start, even the morning walk to the showers came with its own spectacle. On this morning, festival-goers were up early, marching around in hazmat suits, proudly wielding toilet brushes, which could only mean one thing. Czechia’s purveyors of toilet humour Gutalax had a lunchtime set that was fast approaching and it was their first time bringing their unique, er… Grindcore to Wacken. There was no time to brush our teeth, it was simply a case of grabbing as many rolls of toilet paper as possible and heading for the infield.

If anyone questioned why Gutalax were given one of the earliest slots of the weekend, the answer became obvious within minutes. They stormed onto the stage to the Ghostbusters theme song, sporting gas masks with giant portable toilets standing proudly either side of the stage and suddenly the infield was packed before most people had even finished breakfast. Their set barely stretched beyond 40 minutes, but when most of their songs are over in two, that’s hardly surprising. Before long, toilet brushes were flying into the crowd as giveaways, just in case anyone had forgotten to pack one.

Lead pig squealer (and occasional frog croaker) Martin “Maty” Matoušek welcomed everyone who’d made it out of bed, suggesting most of us were probably still recovering from the night before. “For those seeing us for the first time,” he grinned, “we’re a boy band from the Czech Republic. We play disco music and we love to dance.” Cue absolute disorder. Toilet paper sailed through the air alongside sexy blow-up dolls — held up by their, er… orifices — and hazmat suits replaced battle vests today. Wacken understood the assignment. Tracks like Diarrhero and Shitbusters are never going to be mistaken for poetry, but Gutalax have carved out a wonderfully bizarre niche that somehow works perfectly. Sometimes you don’t need to understand it, you just need to embrace the silliness.

If there was one band that absolutely blew the (imaginary) roof off the Harder Stage, it was Canadian rock powerhouse Danko Jones. They kicked things off with Guess Who’s Back and within seconds the entire field was shouting back “MEEEE, MOTHERFUCKER!” with enough enthusiasm to make it very clear that frontman Danko had us eating out of the palm of his hand. There’s something ridiculous about the energy he can generate in the middle of the afternoon, suddenly we were dancing like teenagers at our first school disco, surrounded by all our mates and knowing every bloody word.

Between Wanna Get High?, Everyday Is Saturday Night and Had Enough, we’re lost in a blur of addictive hooks and infectious chorus chants. Bodies flew overhead and a Canadian flag crowd-surfed its way towards the stage. Our own crew did their best to make themselves impossible to miss, jumping on shoulders and bopping around like we’d collectively forgotten we were supposed to be conserving energy for the rest of the festival. Judging by the livestream, we may have succeeded.

Our homemade signs, fashioned from the remains of a sacrificed tablecloth, proudly proclaimed “OHHHH BABY! YOU’RE MY LITTLE R’N’R” — a surprisingly worthwhile investment when they closed with You’re My Little RnR. Danko is so wonderfully magnetic yet equally wholesome, filming a video for his mum and joking about where bad grades can get you before turning the camera towards the madness unfolding in the crowd. He has that rare kind of charisma that never tips into arrogance and it’s obvious he genuinely loves bringing people together and having a good time. This wasn’t just one of the best sets of Wacken, this was the set of the festival and for us, this was the moment Wacken peaked.

Shuffling a little to the left, we nabbed ourselves a spot in front of the Faster Stage for Black Label Society, fronted by the unmistakable Zakk Wylde, kilt and all. Having been around since the late ’90s, BLS have had plenty of time to perfect their particular brand and the stage looked every bit the part. Skulls adorned the microphone stand along with a crucifix and the band sported their signature leather vests with the BLS logo emblazoned across the back. Guitars were swung behind heads and thrown around with the kind of showmanship only Zakk can really get away with — for him the laws of physics are merely a suggestion.

Then it came time for a much more poignant moment. Zakk’s friendship with Ozzy Osbourne is well known and the tribute to his old friend was genuinely beautiful. Photos of a young Ozzy flashed across the screens as they played a cover of No More Tears. This gave the enormous Wacken crowd a moment to remember the Prince of Darkness in all his glory and it was a fitting nod to a friendship that stretched back decades. Closing with Stillborn was always going to be a fan favourite. For many, it’s the song you hear and instantly think of Black Label Society, carrying years of nostalgia and memories with every groove-laden riff. Behind all the distortion and southern-rock swagger, the heartfelt tribute to Ozzy added an emotional punch to an otherwise incredible BLS show, proving that after nearly three decades, these riffs still hit just as fucking hard.

Then came dinner, so naturally we headed to the Wackinger Village for what I affectionately call Medieval Subway — fresh homemade focaccia, every topping imaginable and enough garlic sauce dripping down the sides to keep the vampires away. With so many bands back-to-back, it was sometimes a struggle to remember that eating was actually quite important.

Next up on the Harder Stage were New Wave of British Heavy Metal icons Saxon and we were ready for them as they opened with a newer release, Hell, Fire and Damnation. Formed in 1979, Saxon are kings of old-school heavy metal and are one of the bands that paved the way for generations to come. “We played Wacken in 1992, maybe this is the last time we will play Wacken, let’s make it a good one!” declared Biff Byford, before wishing co-founders Thomas and Holger a very happy 35th anniversary. No one messes with Biff either. Before playing Motorcycle Man, he told the photographers to all fuck off and proudly reminded us that when they wrote the song, social media didn’t exist.

While Saxon were busy making history on stage, Biff had already cemented himself into Wacken history too, with his hand prints added to the permanent Wacken Walk of Legends in the village, right in front of the Landgasthof Stage. Wacken’s own answer to the Hollywood Walk of Fame.

Biff had another good laugh as metalheads attempted to launch their denim and leather battle vests onto the stage, seemingly hoping to predict the next song. Unfortunately, their throwing skills left something to be desired, but the attempt was appreciated and Denim and Leather was met with some first-rate chanting. By the time they reached Wheels of Steel, the crowd was well and truly lubricated. Saving one of the biggest favourites for the finale, Biff gave the new upcoming album Gods of Thunder a plug, then asked if we were ready (and we absolutely were), as they finished with the 1981 cult classic Princess of the Night.

Now, if you’re any kind of metalhead, you’ll know the name Bathory. Pioneers of black metal and a huge influence on many bands that sit on our regular rotation, they helped shape an entire genre. Even if you’re the biggest Bathory fan, perhaps having discovered them through a Swedish cassette passed between friends in the ’80s, chances are you never got to see them live. Aside from a handful of rumoured performances for friends at parties, there is no known record of Bathory ever playing a proper live show. With the death of founder Quorthon in 2004, hearing these songs performed live became little more than a pipe dream for many fans and Bathory became something mythical metal folklore. Until now.

Blood Fire Death, a tribute to Bathory, took to the Louder Stage. What followed was something incredibly special: part tribute, part piece of metal history and at times, a very serious Scandinavian game of ‘Guess Who?’.

The beauty of Wacken having so many bands gathered in one place is that you never quite know who might turn up and tonight we were very much in luck. Emperor’s Ihsahn took us on a journey during A Fine Day to Die. His vocals and guitar were accompanied by the eerie harmonies of a small hooded choir positioned at the side of the stage, barely visible through the smoke and flickering beacons. Eric Danielson of Watain handled the bulk of the vocals, however the guest list only got wilder.

Attila Csihar of Mayhem and Grutle Kjellson of Enslaved both made appearances on vocals, while Ivar Bjørnson of Enslaved and Blasphemer (ex-Mayhem) took on guitar duties. On bass came Apollyon of Aura Noir, with Faust of Djevel behind the kit. Seeing Faust, a former member of Emperor, play these songs was another particularly surreal moment given his checkered past. Eric is unapologetically filthy, grabbing his crotch as he manically throws the band into Sacrifice. For fans of the genre, it was difficult not to appreciate the sheer weight of royalty gracing the stage.

There is only one remaining member of Bathory, bassist Fredrick Melander, and he had indeed also travelled to Germany, bass in hand, to be part of this tribute. The Return of Darkness and Evil hit us and felt like such a powerful nod to Bathory’s history and a fitting way for all the musicians on stage to honour the band that had influenced so many of them. As sparkling fireworks poured from the top of the stage, Blood Fire Death brought the tribute to a historic close, they laid out a powerful final salute to the immense legacy Quorthon left behind.

Today was the biggest day of them all, and it certainly didn’t come without its clashes. Beer cups topped up, we legged it to the infield to catch the second half of heavy metal heavyweights Judas Priest, but there was absolutely no chance of getting anywhere near the stage, the place was rammed. There’s no denying Judas Priest were groundbreakers, helping define the New Wave of British Heavy Metal that emerged from the UK in the late ’70s and early ’80s. The stage glowed red and yellow into the night sky, while the iconic Judas Priest trident blazed across the screens and stage. We arrived just in time for Turbo Lover and our leather rebel Rob Halford was in fine form, his vocals still as sharp as ever. I’ve seen Priest play numerous times and still couldn’t tell you how many costume changes Rob manages in one show. Leather, tassels, studs and chains, you name it. I would happily pay good money for a rummage through that wardrobe.

They appeared to be leaving us with Painkiller before returning for an encore from hell — in the best possible way. Cue complete fan chaos as they ripped through Electric Eye, an absolute banger. Then, as the stage fell silent, the roar of a Harley Davidson came thundering across the festival. There could only be one song. Hell Bent for Leather. Rob rode his legendary motorbike onto the stage, revving the engine while straddling it in enough studded leather to upholster a small house, hat included. Honestly, can Rob Halford get any more fucking iconic? Probably not. He somehow still had one more outfit change left, returning in his floor-length battle vest covered in patches from his favourite metal bands before closing with Livin’ After Midnight. The lyrics appeared on the screens and the entire infield joined in, screaming every word back. And just like that, Judas Priest reminded us exactly why, after all these years, they’re still the masters of heavy metal theatre.

We had barely made it back to the Louder Stage when Emperor were already underway and we weren’t about to miss another second. Fronted by Ihsahn, one of the key figures of Norway’s ’90s black metal movement, the band tore through a selection from their back catalogue, including Inno a Satana and Wrath of the Tyrant. With a wall of flames blazing between us and the stage, symphonic layers rose up from beneath Ihsahn’s piercing vocals, creating something far more ritualistic than your average festival performance.

Then came the surprise. Samoth stood on guitar alongside Faust on drums, before Mortiis appeared on bass, completing a version of the line-up that few could have expected to see standing together again. The reaction was instantaneous, a collective gasp from the wide-eyed crowd as the enormity of the moment sank in. For many, this was their first opportunity to even see Emperor live, let alone with these musicians altogether and it was probably one of the biggest “Holy Shit” moments of the entire week.

As Cosmic Keys to My Creations & Times brought the performance to a close, it felt as though we had been looking through a window into another era. For a brief moment, Wacken disappeared and we were somewhere else entirely — a dark basement in rural Norway, watching a handful of musicians forge a sound that would travel far beyond those walls. A time of burning churches, newspaper headlines of murder and a black metal scene still in its infancy. Decades later, standing among thousands at Wacken, Emperor somehow managed to make that distant past feel very close indeed.

After an immense 12-hour day, we were somewhere between walking and hobbling when we decided to take a shortcut through the Wasteland. Rookie mistake. The Wasteland has a habit of swallowing you whole and sure enough, we were immediately caught in the Wacken time vortex once again by the rockstars of the apocalypse, Megabosch.

This year I believe they played 12 or more shows! At this point they’re practically a Wacken house band and for good reason. They’re sexy, groovy, armed with frankly an irresponsible amount of firepower and backed by Wasteland go-go dancers. I’m still not entirely sure who was in charge of the flamethrowers that night, but I do know now — you don’t wander into a late-night Megabosch show in the Wasteland and expect to keep your eyebrows. The flames will decide their fate. Eventually we escaped and staggered back to camp, only to discover a Manowar dance party still going strong. Someone handed us some homemade spirits, which seemed like a perfectly sensible decision at the time.

It was not.

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