“For me, Bloodstock Festival is more than a music festival; it really is a Second Home.”
Bloodstock goes well. For the first time in years, I arrived before noon and managed, after hammering my tent pegs into some resistant ground, to erect my tent. Acquiring my air mattress and deck chair, the festival truly begins.
Thursday becomes heavy, it always is. The Sophie Lancaster stage is awash with talent as Dead Flesh christen this year’s Bloodstock. Though I was numerous beers deep by Thursday’s end, I heard many positive things spoken regarding Gnome’s set, and for a three-piece, too. It’s also the first time I drink with friends to the very closure of the Lemmy Bar in the main arena, but that’s what Thursday is for: Getting smashed.
Friday begins. After grabbing my pre-ordered merch, I moved into the Lemmy Bar with the idea of getting a pint, then withdrawing some cash. What actually happened was I bumped into a bunch of wonderful friends, had multiple points bought for me, swigged multiple flasks of rum, and we had an amazing time just chatting and having a laugh whilst Shrapnel and Famyne tear up the main stage. It’s a beautiful day, and there’s never been a more official piss-up than Bloodstock.
Konvent are my first major band I was excited for on Friday. Guttural vocals, crushing riffs, with women who look like they could kill you, what’s not to like? They’re easily the heaviest act of the day thus far. Konvent are the kind of act that will give you a neck ache in the morning, given the devastating weight their riffs serve. There’s not a comprehensible word uttered throughout their set, yet this only contributes to the atmospherically total experience Konvent provide.
Flotsam and Jetsam are one of the very few classic thrash bands I hadn’t seen before this year’s Bloodstock. There’s a sizeable crowd, young and old, with a decent pit opening up in the middle. The crowd are more than on board with the band as circle pits begin despite the sun’s rays beating down upon us.
Following a slew of bands, we needed some campsite rest, especially out of that sun. This respite allowed us to recover strength before Nailbomb’s signing began, during which wait we noticed Napalm Death’s own Shane Embury moving through the crowd. Something for next year, perhaps? I attended the aforementioned Nailbomb for their signing; the chance to have Max Cavalera’s signature, amongst others in the band, is too strong an opportunity to pass up.
Then we come to the announcement for 2026. Announcing twenty-five bands towards the twenty-fifth anniversary next year, Bloodstock announced amongst others: Black Spiders, Vended, Death Angel, Municipal Waste, Biohazard, Orbit Culture, 200 Stab Wounds, Nevermore, Sepultura, Cryptopsy, Carpenter Brut, Lamb Of God, Slaughter To Prevail and Judas Priest.
“Nailbomb’s set was the greatest I’ve ever seen on the Sophie Lancaster stage — an hour-long explosion that never wavered, never let up or showed mercy.”
It’s not hyperbole, it’s simply a sheer fact, Nailbomb’s set was the greatest I’ve ever seen on the Sophie Lancaster stage. Their set was one hour-long explosion that never wavered, never let up or showed mercy. The energy the band came out and ended with was utterly nuclear; they were ripping into their guitars, smashing those drums, they commanded that stage with such finesse and ease, they seemed born for it. The last fifteen minutes saw the band hurl everything they had in one seething, volatile blast after another and another. The crowd, through pits and crowd surfers and horns thrust into the air, gave Nailbomb their all, packing out the tent to its maximum. People were pouring in throughout the whole set. They left the stage to a torrent of applause. If Cavalera ever brought this Nailbomb experience back to Bloodstock, I’d be ecstatic.
The Spirit are the first major band of an already packed Saturday for myself. Though they’re far from the fastest or flashiest the weekend will offer, there’s an inherent professionalism embedded in their performance. The band may play a fusion of heavy/black metal; however, their stage presence speaks volumes; they don’t need to be the most bombastic to create the greatest impact. One would have to be one not to recognise the precision and care their songwriting possesses, so when a riff or change occurs in the track, you know it’s done with the utmost control. These are guys who take their craft very seriously and want to ensure every minuscule detail of their performance is noteworthy and bristling with entertainment.
Warbringer took to the stage with a frenzy, and frankly, you know exactly the performance they’ll provide. The band can do no wrong live if you ask me, having seen them numerous times before their Bloodstock appearance this year. Kevill’s vocals are as ferocious as they’ve ever been, and though the sun beats down once more, it does nothing to quell Warbringer’s ravenous hunger to destroy their audience. Kevill’s ability to rile the crowd up into a rabid stupor is revered, yet here, with the grander crowds, he’s able to project his generalship to hundreds and hundreds of people at once. The biggest circle pit I’ve yet seen is declared upon playing “Living In A Whirlwind”. The grounds are yellowing after a dry weekend, though rain has fallen in recent days, culminating in dust bowls akin to the onset of tornado activity. Preparing a vast wall of death for their final track, “Living Weapon”, Warbringer pull out all the stops. It’s fast, unapologetic, electric. It’s Warbringer at their very finest. They leave the stage to a hail of applause stretching from the barrier to the further reaches of the benches by Lemmy’s Bar.
After some needed rest, Cards Against Humanity back at camp and some Paella, I headed back into the arena for Fear Factory as they performed Demanufacture in its entirety per its thirtieth anniversary. The sun may be at its hottest for the day, but that doesn’t prevent the Bloodstock crowd from coming out in force to celebrate this landmark record. After seeing some of their set, I decided to retire to my campsite for more rest, hydration and enough hot sauce to make me regret my choices. I could have gone to see Undeath, but after a busy day, I needed to put my feet up and so I chose to relax. Though we did not end up seeing Machine Head, we could certainly hear them and the fireworks going off towards the end of their set. The roar of the crowd was incredible, and Rob Flynn’s ability to whip them up into a frenzy was proven yet again. That’s the beauty of Bloodstock; there’s no need to go see every band or headliner if you feel you don’t need or want to because much of this festival’s appeal is simply being with your friends and having a blast back at camp. But after multiple early rises, I was shattered and thus went to bed the moment Machine Head were done.
Come Sunday morning, I was relieved I did just that; getting a legitimately full night’s sleep at Bloodstock isn’t always guaranteed but catching up on sleep was needed, especially when you have Mastodon, Gojira and Obituary all one after the other this evening. After some needed food and coffee, I got properly dressed and dedicated time towards the merch markets, sprawling with variety such as shirts, jewellery, patches, hats etc.
Barbarian Hermit plays this sludge/doom hybrid, waking the morning masses. Though their sound is built upon vast slabs of riffs and drumming, their songwriting is plentiful with nuanced and brooding sequences that broaden what newcomers may perceive of the band, all before returning to the power that gets the crowd headbanging en masse. It’s evident the band loves performing here, whether it’s their frontman’s small dances between his vocals, the energy their drummer brings to his kit or how their bassist flings shirts into the crowd; Barbarian Hermit never rests on their laurels nor gives in to complacency.
The beers flow. One Machine assaults the main stage, the pyro spews forth, and the grass only continues to yellow as the heat refuses to relent. Rivers Of Nihil are next, and whilst they offer a progressive/technical outlet, I respect the inclusion of their saxophonist on stage. It’s easy to stick to the established metal formula, so breaking the mould is no small feat at a major metal festival. It’s something different, a little removed, from the typical course of big live shows.
The same can be said for Feuerschwanz, who make their UK debut, with violins and bagpipes in tow. Attired in Roman armour reminiscent of Zack Snyder’s 300, the band unleash a delightfully ridiculous display of power metal that gets everyone going with fun aplenty. Here, the band are focused on providing a splendidly silly time as opposed to something crushing. This is excellent festival music; a strong number of drinks have been consumed by now, and thus, most are prepared for some succession of shenanigans.
Overcoming the tragic loss of Trevor Strnad, The Black Dahlia Murder finally return to Bloodstock and with a mighty audience to boot. Their new frontman gives plenty of crowd interaction, as, for many, this will be their experience if the band is with their newest frontman.
But after finally needing some shade and water at camp, another Spudman’s meal later, I was prepped at last for Mastodon. Considering the recent developments behind the scenes, Mastodon came out utterly swinging with this renewed lease of life. It’s been eleven years since I first saw them live at Sonisphere ‘14, and here they blow that previous occasion out of the water. The band are truly ecstatic to be here as each member brings their all with strength and vitality in spades. With each song, they remind us just why they’ve blown up in the last ten years as their signature sludge and progressive sound rakes in old and new fans alike, just as crowd surfers multiply as easily as horns rise aloft. Ending their set on a cover of Black Sabbath’s “Supernaut”, Mastodon conclude their set with a shower of applause. Here’s hoping they return soon. That was a headline-worthy performance.
With hydration, food and rest, I waited for Gojira, sitting down somewhere I wouldn’t feel hemmed in yet with high enough to see unobstructed. It’s here I noticed the state of the ground; with hardly any rain, a slew of circle and mosh pits and constant boots hammering it, the grass has been reduced to battered, dehydrated straw; it just crumbles to dust in your hand, littered with old confetti.
“Gojira pulled off what can only be described as The Bloodstock Headliner Performance To End All Bloodstock Headliner Performances.”
I previously said Nailbomb did the greatest set I’d ever seen on the Sophie Stage. Then Gojira came on to pull off what can only be described as The Bloodstock Headliner Performance To End All Bloodstock Headliner Performances. That was a work of art. With a singalong to Ozzy Osbourne’s “No More Tears” bleeding into Gojira’s opening, the band and Bloodstock’s stage crew unleashed everything they had at us. Double-massive screens, a digital backdrop, a multi-tiered stage layout, confetti, pyro, billowing smoke machines; it was as massive, if not more, than I was expecting. I was in a certain place where I was bringing people crowdsurfing over and, as the crowd moved, and bodies churned, and the masses swayed, little by little, I edged forward to the point I was in the front two rows to the barrier. Hit after hit after hit, including the track they played during the Opening Ceremony of the Paris Olympics, too. It was the fastest hour and forty-five-minute set I’ve seen, and even then, by the very end, you still hoped for more, knowing it was clearly done. With Gojira’s set done, the main stage field was cleared out. I would see Obituary, but knowing I’m seeing them play Manchester come October, I decided to call it a night.
We reminisced about Gojira, concluding together that it was indeed the headliner future acts needed to beat now. Looking back, it had been an exceptional Bloodstock, and knowing we each had to travel back in the morning, we retired for the night.
Morning came, and thus began the reluctant yet inevitable task of tidying up and packing away the campsite. It’s always sad to see the campsites clear out, the tents come down, the revelries cease, but it must be done until the following year. Bloodstock is a festival where I see many people just that one time of the year, and so I went round making my goodbyes and thank yous and wishing them safe travels. But knowing that we all around my campsites have acquired our tickets for the 2026 edition fills me with joy, knowing that at least once next year, I can see every wonderful person at once in that campsite.
So began the journey home, though feeling like zombies, returning to reality after sealing ourselves away in that bubble we call Bloodstock. For me, Bloodstock Festival is more than a music festival; it really is a Second Home, and over the years, I’ve become dearly acquainted with its layout, its merch markets, its stages, but most importantly, the people that make it so worthwhile and memorable. For without great people, Bloodstock would not be celebrating its twenty-fifth anniversary next year; without great people, there would be no Metal To The Masses and no New Blood stage; without great people, Bloodstock would not have surpassed its seven-hundred capacity of Derby’s Rescue Rooms and expanded outdoors in an open-air environment.
I do, truly, adore Bloodstock, and whilst some may not believe the hype given its miniature size, I thoroughly recommend you try it at least once. Bloodstock 2025 is one of my favourite years to date. Next year shall be my eighth edition; see you there perhaps?
