Live Review : Download Festival on June 11th 2023

All things must end and we reach the fourth and final day. Whilst it is still hot enough to boil a monkey’s bum, there are thunderstorm warnings a plenty with not one but four potential typhons heading towards Castle Donington.  With all the shenanigans with sackings and members not travelling, there is a real question mark about how many members Slipknot will have when they grace us with their presence at the culmination of the festivities. But we have a whole heap of bands to sample before we get there.

We once more mix it around and today we start our odyssey on the main Aphex stage for New Delhi’s finest Bloodywood. Their ascent has been extraordinary and the inclusion of them (and the Hu) on today’s running order shows how darn cosmopolitan metal has become. We are regularly accused of being insular and closed minded. Yet here are thirty thousand metalheads getting down to a band welding bhangra beats onto furious guitar riffs.  

They go for a fusion approach, skipping unashamedly from vintage metal to the authentic New Delhi sounds and back again without missing a beat. Like many emerging bands they speak openly about their own struggles with mental health. What could come across as a bandwagon jumping actually feels like a brutally honest testimony. Metal’s ever-growing international presence means that we are inevitably heading towards a non-western headliner. Whether that will be Bloodywood is another matter, but even if it isn’t they are certainly effectively barging down the doors to make it happen.

ROCKFLESH members have been to every single Download (and the more vintage amongst us were at the Monsters of Rock before that). We all emphatically and unanimously agree that Lorna Shore are the god darn heaviest Murtha Fuckers to have ever graced the main stage in the entire history of these shindigs. They have breakdowns that can level mountains. As the monolithic riffs crush down, I can quite seriously feel my fillings rattle. They know this afternoon is important as it is not often an artist this niche is given the opportunity to lord it on the main stage. This is very much a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for Lorna Shore and then grab it with both hands. 

Will Ramos is far more than just a champion gargler. Yes his vocal acrobatics are something out of this world but he also possesses that magic show business stardust that separates mere singers from real front men. His charisma just oozes off the stage. Even though musically Lorna Shore are probably a bit too much for a hefty slice for most of the watching audience, Will’s enthusiasm and eminently likeable persona wins people over. It may be tough listen but you just have to marvel at the technicality of the whole thing. 

Lorna Shore are not a band to do things by half and they end the show by playing the entire Pain Remains trilogy. The amalgamation of stirring symphonics and crashing blast beats just shouldn't work but they somehow managed to marry them together with such ease. Every now and again a band manages to emerge from the underground and make it all the way to the top without once sacrificing or compromising who they are (Metallica and Slipknot are cases in point), we may well have witnessed the next exponent.

The Hu have become a word-of-mouth sensation. They are a metal band that doesn't play metal. They are a rock band who don't use rock instruments. They are a world music band who have happily stuck two fingers up at the civility and general condescending nature of that movement. They are a metal band on very much their terms. They play traditional Mongolian folk music, but they do so with the heft, ferocity and conviction of a god darn heavy metal band. Whereas Bloodywood fuse different genres and textures together, The Hu stay remarkably true to their musical roots. They have just turned up the heavy and imported across-the-metal attitude.

The groovesome, cover of ‘Sad but True’ is enjoyable but actually unnecessary because The Hu have enough ammunition with their own material. They are doing something highly original and very much on their terms. It is that independent spirit that has attracted all the plaudits. However as good as the Hu are, there is a certain matter of the mighty Amity Affliction on the other stage. My current curtailed mobility means that I have tried to avoid "sprinting" between stages this year. However, the temptation of Queensland’s finest is too much to bear. 

Whilst they still get dumped into the metalcore pile, they long ago outgrew that label. What they are doing now is an un-categorizable melodic variant of heavy metal that combines sweeping choruses with driving riffs. In the meagre 30 minutes they are allotted, we get a high-speed canter through some of their finest moments. Essentially this is precise and incredibly tight power pop, music you can simultaneously sing along to and bang your head with glee. Ridiculously entertaining.

We return to the main stage to be faced with foreboding white cloth and equally foreboding dark pendulous clouds. All our gods have abandoned us as it’s time for the blasphemous might of Behemoth. The stage covering is removed to reveal Nergal in all his ridiculous finery, ready to scare the bejesus out of God-fearing Christians everywhere. There is only one fly in their precision applied face paint and that is most people seem to have plumped for the alternative entertainment of Avatar. For a band of Behemoth’s stature and standing, the turnout is ridiculously small.

However Nergal is not going to let a bunch of traitorous no-shows spoil the party. It might still be early afternoon, but we are going to get a headline sets whether we like it or not and the rapidly gathering storm clouds just add to the ambience. We get fire, we get incense, we get ridiculous headwear, and we get more posturing than a Miss World contest. We also get some of the finest blackened metal known to man or beast. The final run of ‘OV Fire and the Void’ into ‘Bartzabel’ and then into ‘Chant for Eschaton 2000’ is extraordinary and proves beyond doubt that black metal does indeed belong on the big stage (even if everyone else fucked off elsewhere for half the set).

I have no interest in I Prevail so we decamp one last time to the Dogtooth and the very English appeal of Green Lung. If you listen to them with closed eyes, you can imagine that the creators of this 70s-tinged jaunty doom were ageing hippies with long beards and unkept hairdos. Actually, there are a bunch of freshly shaved trendy younglings who really look like they should be in a hip and happening indie band.

Somehow they've ended up with the wrong memo and are creating some of the most wonderful trad-sounding metal that I have heard for a good long while. They seem to have had the same premonition as Ghost and realised that evil music can be catchy, commercial and filled to the brim with rousing choruses. They are majestically wonderful and for all their catcalls to Satan you still leave the show with a spring in your step and a song in your heart.

Soen are struggling. They are behind time and the drum kit seems to have given up the ghost (probably cursed by whatever satanic rituals Green Lung were up to). There is a lot of pensive shuffling on stage as frustrated musicians deal with frustrated soundmen. But then suddenly it all kicks into gear and we are off. The faffing and technical failures mean that we get just four songs but they still manage to effectively demonstrate the depth and magnitude of their sound. Joel Ekelöf ‘s voice is exquisite. It is the aural equivalent of bathing in warm decadent chocolate. He has a commanding but also humble presence and alongside apologising for the hurried nature of the set he promises new material to come. They may well have been on stage for no more than a blink of an eye but they still accumulate many many new friends.

If I'm honest I was disappointed that Download didn't take the opportunity to promote Parkway Drive into that elusive headline position. They seem an absolute cert to be the next outfit to be allowed to ascend to that most sought-after of positions. Parkway Drive's reaction to being given the special guest berth is to say “fuck it we are doing a headline show anyway”. This evening they are nothing short of phenomenal and absolutely stick their flag in the ground to be the metal’s next big big thing. Ominous torchbearers flank their entrance and then from a standing start they crash into a vital and vicious Glitch. The energy pulsates off the stage and you can tell they are absolutely waiting for this moment.

 Winston openly talks about the frustrations of the grounded in Australia during the pandemic and the fact that this is their first European festival season in four years. He comes across as both overjoyed and relieved to be here and prowls the stage with utter conviction. Dedicated is (pun intended) dedicated to all those who have stuck with them since the beginning. What could have been a mawkish statement rings with God's honest truth. Yes, their sound has softened over the years and yes, they have embraced a much more traditional form of metal but they are still the same bunch of geezers from Byron Bay.

To prove just how much a man of the people he is Winston goes wandering during ‘Idols and Anchors’ and ends up far far from the main stage bang in the middle of his audience. It is an incredible thing to watch as he stands perched on an immensely accommodating lad’s shoulders as hundreds of souls stream in a circle pit around him. You can shove your showing off and your vanity ramp's, this is stagecraft. This is how you win over an audience. He crowd surfs back to the main stage and we get probably the only duff notes on the set. ‘Darker Still’ is essentially a poor man's ‘Nothing Else Matters’ and Winston is his voice is just not cut out for it. What should have been reflective and philosophical just comes across as painful. 

But they recover quickly, and we get a frantic absolutely astonishing final one-two of ‘Bottom Feeder’ and ‘Crushed’. The latter calls for the entire stage to be bathed in flame. But they are not done yet and are now stripped to the waist Winston returns one final time for an outstanding version of ‘Wild Eyes’ with the audience “Whoo-ooy-ooing” to their heart’s content. Tonight Parkway Drive proves they not just playing with the big boys, they are absolutely schooling the big boys. If they are not headlining within three years, then frankly there is something very wrong with the world.

What was very evident during Parkway Drive’s set is the mass exodus after ‘Crushed’. You see it isn't just our friends from Australia who are evident headliners in waiting, over on opus we have another pretender for the throne in the shape of their satanic majesty's Ghost. The rise and rise of Papa Emeritus and his nameless ghouls is the stuff dreams are made out of.  Over 12 years their stock has built and built to the point where they are genuine festival topping material (see Sweden Rock Festival 2023). The magnitude of the pull is evident by the sea of people that stretches from one end of the second stage field to the other.

The reason Ghost are so revered is the fact that they manage to combine pure camp theatre with some of the best and most addictive singalong ditties you will come across this side of Abba.  Our mate Tobias has realised that everyone loves a chorus, and he has written a whole shed load of shiny pop nuggets full of refrains designed specifically for the audience to scream back at him. They may not yet have had a bona fides chart-topper, but the set is still the case of hit after hit after hit.

Because of time and staging constraints, the pantomime tomfoolery and numerous costume changes are quite drastically reduced. Papa Emeritus IV apologises for the absence of his “father” and instead stays in the one persona for the whole show. But we still get fake dollars during Mummy Dust and enough posing to fill a years’ worth of Vogues. What is so refreshing about Ghost is the fact that everyone is in on the joke. This is not some sort of post-modern ironic "I'm laughing at you because you're laughing at me”, actually this is a mutually appreciative piece of opulent theatre. It's extravagant, it's pompous, it's grandiose and it's just wonderful.

There is a genuine concern that the wheels are beginning to come off the seemingly unstoppable juggernaut that is Slipknot. With three storms converging on site, there were worries about how many people would stick around to see them. There were worries about just who would be in the band and let's not forget the last album was a bit, well rubbish to be honest. We needn't have worried because Slipknot are not a band to let us down. From the off, it is obvious they have something to prove and that is they are still the greatest live spectacle in metal. The first four tracks are delivered with little fanfare and unabridged. They flow into each other like some colossal stream of brutal consciousness.

Corey doesn't speak until we get to ‘Psychosocial’ and then he confirms what we all were hoping was true, the geezer in the clown mask is the clown. “We've got them back” proclaims Corey and whilst in essence he is just a man who hits an oil drum with a piece of wood, the clown is the linchpin that everything that is Slipknot and having him back onside just means that the whole place takes a collective sigh of relief.Slipknot is still Slipknot and we can now lean back and just enjoy the chaos.

It feels like the band have also realised that the recent releases have been, well lacking and instead of force-feeding us pale imitations of their previous glory, they go for broke and concentrate on the tried and tested tracks. There is a magnificent run of pure adrenalized mayhem when they pull out the ‘Heretic Anthem’, followed by ‘Eyeless’, followed by ‘Left Behind’ and topped off by ‘Wait and Bleed’. Any doubts are absolutely swept away at that point and Slipknot prove that they are still the phenomenon that they always were.

The other remarkable thing is no one has gone home. The crowd stretches as far as the eye can see and actually feels bigger (if that's possible) than Metallica’s the night before. The utter passion and conviction with which the words to ‘Purity’ and ‘Surfacing’ are spat out by the crowd proves beyond doubt that these nine masked men still matter. The corrugated masses move as one and front to the back, every fucker jumps.

We get an encore because of course we are going to get an encore and more importantly after having been temporarily benched, ‘Spit it Out’ is back. Numerous acts have tried it this weekend (including a particularly half-arsed attempt by Bring Me the Horizon) but Slipknot are the original purveyors of the whole crouch down and jump up nonsense. In other people's hands it feels a bit like a gimmick but when Corey does it, it becomes something ceremonial. Something deeply important and something utterly unique. We all crouch and then we all leap up in chaotic synchronisation.

If I'm honest I had come to bury and not to praise Slipknot but once again they show that when their back is against the wall there is nobody, nobody in their league. They are anarchy personified and whilst they celebrate a fifth headline show here the most important thing is that they proved that another five is not out of the question. 

And so, with that it is all over. It never rained, it was far hotter than really is comfortable and there were points when there seemed to be too many people in one space. But, but. It still managed to be utterly magnificent. Download will always have its downsides and there is a genuine feeling that profit will always outweigh customer experience. But it still manages to be an absolutely astounding weekend and just the sheer weight of performances will always make up for other inadequacies. Roll on 2024 (though to be honest I’m quite happy to go back to the archetypal three-day set up and would even welcome a little rain…..).