Anyway, this is what I wrote when I got back home.
Bloodstock 2006
The Bloodstock Festival has been running for several years. I’ve been to the last three and had a great time at every one. So this year I took a risk and booked my ticket before the lineup was even close to finalised.
As it turned out, the 2006 festival was to feature a significant tinkering with the usual formula. Headliners for the Saturday night were to be Yorkshire Doom merchants My Dying Bride. This raised a few eyebrows among the forum regulars, many of whom prefer their Metal a tad livelier. “Not to worry” quoth the organisers, “The Special Guest will be someone a bit more to the liking of the Power Metal crowd.”
Not surprisingly, when Swedish Marilyn Manson clones Deathstars were announced the reaction was …not exactly euphoric.
(Now there may be some among ye heathens that are asking “Wherefore the problem? It all sounds the same anyway.” To which I would reply “Imagine you were waiting to see The Who and Spandau Ballet turned up instead. Now wait there while I get the rope.”)
So, this year‘s festival had the definite potential to be underwhelming. The Friday lineup was a strong one but Saturday had two bands I wanted to see, three I planned to check out because they might be good and at least two who were going to have to pull something special from the hat to stop me wandering off to the bar.
And now: The festival itself.
I arrived in Derby ahead of schedule so took advantage of the extra time to grab a pint and a bag of (underwhelming) chips before checking in. Freshly bathed and having laid on the deodorant with a trowel I set off into town, possibly trailing a sweet smelling cloud behind me. After side-trips to the bank (to collect beer tokens), Reveal Records (to collect shiny things),) and a couple of nearby pubs (to spend beer coupons and eat meat in a bun) I came at last to the Assembly Rooms.
The first band on in the Darwin Suite were youngsters Awaken. Unfortunately they were still trying to sort out their sound and by the time they started I was almost due to be somewhere else. Still, what I heard sounded OK so better luck next time.
The last time I saw Midlands Power Metal veterans Marshall Law was in a tiny pub in Stafford. It was a gig that’s still in my top 5 thirteen years later so my expectations were high. Not just me. The mad Jocks next to me started a chant of “Marshall! Marshall! Marshall ******* Law!” that was quickly taken up by those around them.
As it turned out, the Law took the theory that rock is best served by young whippersnappers and stamped all over it in big heavy boots. Like Raven last year they played an absolute blinder. Easily my favourite band of the day despite some very stiff competition.
Next up were the first of the overseas contingent. Sweden’s Majesty might have a frontman with a definite muffin top thing going on atop his leather strides and they may be all too obviously in thrall to mightier names (Manowar and Priest, mainly) but they put on a great show. It helps that their songs tend to be punchy anthems to the glory of Metal.
Power Metal bands do seem to have a fondness for side-projects. In this case Savage Circus features, or featured, assorted members of Iron Saviour and Blind Guardian. To be honest the CD was OK but nothing special and unfortunately the live set was…OK but nothing special. I can’t quite put my finger on why they didn’t inspire me. Admittedly after the first two bands of the day they did have a lot to live up to.
I decided to give my crumbling knees a break and watched German/US Ritchie Blackmore fans Axel Rudi Pell from the balcony. Mr Pell (the guitarist, don’t’cha know) has been very prolific over the years, releasing a steady stream of albums since the early 90s. Only two of these I actually own so that could have been awkward. Luckily Mr Pell and his band (hyperactive singer Johnny Gioelli, peripatetic drummer Mike Terrana and two Germans clearly chosen for their prowess rather than their looks.) put on an energetic show that seemed to hit all the right notes with the faithful down the front. Special mention must be made of the keyboard player’s fondness for picking up his rig and wandering around with it on his shoulder while playing. Despite unfamiliarity with the material I was impressed.
Last year there were some complaints that the Saturday bill was over-heavy on female fronted bands. Possibly in reaction to that, there were only three on this year’s bill. One of them was Friday’s headliner in the small Darwin Suite. To-Mera. I stuck my head round the door to give them a listen and was less than impressed. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?
Last time I saw Primal Fear the Germans played a superb set that came very close to stealing the show. Would they be able to replicate that or would familiarity breed contempt? Yes, they could, in fine style indeed. As with a lot of bands, material that doesn’t really convince on CD comes alive when performed by a band firing on all cylinders and when surrounded by enthusiastic metalheads throwing the horns at every opportunity. Actually owning a PF CD this time around helped a lot.
My last port of call before returning to the hotel was the local KFC. Where the staff managed to give my order to the wrong people and give me the wrong drink. Oh yes, then there was the cheeky get who wandered over, looked at my book and said “That far into it? You’ve had a good festival haven’t you?”
Day two started with a visit to BHS to buy socks and breakfast. Thence to the Assembly Rooms.
The Boy Will Drown had bemused the denizens of the Bloodstock forums on their addition to the bill. A name that was decidedly Emo-esque and a lack of sound samples on the website had led to expectations being very low indeed. As it turned out, the handful of punters that wandered in when they started playing saw a band that play an unusual brand of prog-jazzy-WTF?-Death Metal that’s not really my cup of tea but seemed to be played well.
H.O.S.T.I.L.E are easier to sum up: - The bastard offspring of Lawnmower Deth (Rampant silliness) and Three Inches Of Blood (Galloping, epic songs. Two vocalists). Possibly the first, last and only time you will ever see a Hobby horse on stage at the Bloodstock festival. I rather liked them but certain reviewers clearly didn’t get the joke.
Since I wandered into the Main hall when Illuminatus were finishing the last song, the first band I actually saw on the Main Stage were war-painted Italians Spellblast., who I watched from the balcony. Like a lot of bands at the moment they mix traditional sounds into their brand of Metal. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it jarred. I described them elsewhere as Hey Nonny Nonny Power Metal which should give you the rough idea. Not bad but the next band in the Darwin Suite showed how to do this properly.
I knew I was in for something spectacular when Irishmen Mael Mordha trooped onstage dressed like Brian Boru’s bodyguard. Their imposing, bearded and berobed lead singer declared their presence with a blast from his warhorn and then the mayhem began. There was absolutely nothing pastoral about this. Rather, Mael Mordha’s brand of folk-metal is wild-eyed and coming downhill swinging a bloody big axe. Awe-inspiring.
Since Melodeath is a subgenre I am only vaguely interested in I decided to forgo Finland’s Omnium Gatherum in favour of a wander round Derby, possibly involving a pint or three and a plate of curry. Curry I found not at all but I did investigate an art gallery (displaying pics of Israeli pillboxes. Hmm) and had a rather nice plate of Cajun chicken (In a pub down a side street I shall probably never be able to find again)
Tourette’s Syndrome had the honour of being the first Australian band ever to play Bloodstock.
They also had the unfortunate honour of being the first band ever to be relegated from the Main Stage to the Darwin suite. Due to transportation problems they were stuck on the motorway round about when they should have been playing. Since the original spot was during my midday walkabout this meant I would have missed it anyway. The new, later spot in the Darwin suite gave me the chance to see them after all.
I can’t say I was really getting the point of what Tourette’s Syndrome were trying to do. Their tattooed frontwoman had energy to spare, throwing in the odd bit of aboriginal dancing when not screaming into the mike, but their brand of aggro-metal was a bit too”Kerrang” –esque for me and I wandered off after a song or two.
(Why is being a Kerrang-esque band a bad thing? Just mention that magazine to any Power Metal fan and wait for them to start foaming at the mouth. Turncoat, media whore bunch of arsehamsters that they are)
There seems to be an unwritten law that Bloodstock must have at least one Finnish band per year. This year there were two; the afore mentioned OG and Machine Men.
One welcome trend for this year was that due to more careful planning I managed to get significantly closer to the stage than I usually manage. Since the flash on my camera is only effective at point blank range this was quite handy.
Anyway…
Most reviews of Machine Men tend to mention Iron Maiden at some point and the likeness is close enough to invite DNA testing. A solid performance but cut short for some reason. Still, it gave me an extra ten minutes in which to hit the bar.
And now to the band many Power Metal fans considered to be the real headliners of the day.
I first encountered Germany’s Brainstorm via a Wacken festival DVD and, being rather impressed, went in search of more. Attempts to pick up a few songs via Limewire being hampered by a 70s jazz-funk band sharing the name. (And wasn’t that a fun listening experience…) I gradually acquired, via more licit means, some Cds and put them on heavy rotation.
Right from the start Brainstorm came out with all guns blazing. Their frontman, the energetic, eversmiling Andy B Franck, was easily their most effective asset . Granted, he did have to get the audience to sing a chunk of one song but that was because he was laughing his head off. Clearly he was having a great time, even cajoling the crowd into a chorus or two of “Rule Britannia” and leaping into the photo pit to get up close and personal with the diehards in the front row.
It also helps that Brainstorm songs tend to be muscular singalongs at the thrashier end of PM, powered by a thunderous drummer.
The highlight of the day, of the festival, very nearly the year. After this, things would slide downhill a bit.
(Incidentally, wouldn’t it have been nice if they’d brought some t-shirts with them?)
One overpriced pizza and beer later I took station in the balcony for Bristol thrashers Onslaught, newly reformed after over a decade’s absence. This was the pre-Steve Grimmett lineup so no “Shellshock” no “Welcome to Dying” and certainly no “Let there be Rock”
The band themselves seemed OK. Granted the guitarists were a bit static but the vocalist and (especially) the bassist more than made up for it. At one point they squared off for a spot of gut-barging. Later on the bass-player was bounding around the stage like Tigger with a firecracker up his arse.
The reason I wasn’t paying full attention to the band was that something absolutely fascinating was going on in the audience. For the first time ever I got to see a full-on moshpit in action.
Let me take a moment to explain moshing. There are subtle variations but loosely it consists of a section of the crowd pushing each other around to the music. Think an after pub playfight with a thrash metal soundtrack. The “pit” part comes from the space that quickly opens up around the people doing this.
While the people in the pit were having a great time those around them were not always so happy. One particular mosher came very close to getting thumped after he bounced off a spectator one time too many. Truth be told, he won himself few friends by his confrontational behaviour all through the set.
And now on to the most controversial band ever to play Bloodstock.
Deathstars
Within Temptation and Amon Amarth had not been universally popular choices for last year’s event but that was nothing compared to the storm that erupted when this lot were confirmed.
I rather enjoyed them.
There were some things I could take issue with, it has to be said. The onstage shape-throwing seemed somewhat over-rehearsed and the lead singer’s patter was woeful.
Here comes a lecture.
Part of a lead singer’s job is to engage the audience and just generally get them onside. Most of the singers on display put a fair bit of effort into this but aside from a few mutterings about his broken zipper and ‘would any of the girls in the crowds like to help him out?’ there was little rapport to be seen.
And Deathstars needed all the help they could get. A sizeable segment of the crowd was openly hostile. I’m not sure which annoyed them more. The sample-heavy music or the band’s make up and generally camp stage manner. (I’m fairly certain no other band has brought a feather boa onstage at this particular festival) When the singer slid up behind the guitarist and gave him a wee cuddle certain Bloodstockers made their displeasure known in no uncertain terms. Shouts of “**** off” and “Gay! Gay! You’re Gay!” were hurled at the stage along with a plate of food and at least one bottle. Rumour has a bag of shit airborne at one stage too.
The set itself I enjoyed but the ugliness that came with it I could do without ever seeing again.
I could have done with some good old-fashioned fist in the air, glory of metal, singalong Power Metal to pick things up.
What we got was a band that came onstage and launched into a plodding dirge.
My Dying Bride were clearly not the draw the promoters had hoped for. From my balcony seat I could see that the hall was barely half-full. To put things in perspective there were less people present than had been in the room for After Forever’s halfway-up-the-bill slot last year.
I had promised myself that I would give them a fair chance to impress me. “I shall give them five songs” I declared beforehand. “Then I shall decide whether to stay or go.”
Two songs in and I was already contemplating an early exit. The lead singer clung to his mike and droned on over leaden, funereal riffing. Behind him the guitarists ambled around the stage and when the female keyboard player wasn‘t fiddling with her boob tube she was just looking bored.
“Maybe I need to be down on the floor and soaking up the atmosphere for this to make sense” I told myself and wandered downstairs. Nope. More mike-hugging, more material lumbering along at snails pace. For one brief moment, as the fifth song started, my hopes were raised by a burst of faster Paradise Lost riffing. Then it slowed down again and I had had enough. For the first time ever I walked out on a headline band.
The evening was not yet a total loss though. There was still the Sitwell Tavern, a noted biker pub, to investigate. It lived up to my expectations in being an old school rock pub playing old-school rock music (Including 70s proggies Curved Air) and being full of old-school rockers. My kind of place really. I wished I’d stayed longer. I also wish I hadn’t got lost trying to find the exit and wandered into a cupboard. ..
It would certainly have been a better idea than moving on up the road to the First Floor rock club. Which was full. Of indie kids. Listening to indie music. Waiting for the indie band setting up to play their set.
Not that I have anything against Indie kids but this wasn’t what I had expected and not only had I paid to listen to music I didn’t like but I could not get bleeding served! After 15 minutes of hopeful looks at the bar staff and mounting claustrophobia I used my countdown trick. ( I count down from 100 and if I haven’t been served I sod off. Think of it as giving the universe an ultimatum) It didn’t work so I flung my free-drink ticket on the bar and stomped off into the night and back to the hotel.
So, the conclusions.
Despite Saturday night ending in a feeble whimper rather than a bang I still had a good weekend. I enjoyed the vast majority of the bands and hope that the significant downturn in numbers is not repeated next year.
I picked up a lot of shiny things, discovered an energy drink that caused me to twitch and hear the voices of the dead and got to see many, many interesting people wandering around the building.
I await news of Bloodstock 07 with interest.
Obviously that never happened. Early announcements had Blind Guardian confirmed but with the Outdoor festival up and running, the promoters decided to concentrate all their efforts on the new event and that was it for the indoor festival.
I hung around the Bloodstock forums for another five years before realising that I didn't really belong there anymore and walked away. Another chapter closed.
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