And just like that it’s Sunday and that great stretch of metal that was laid out before us, has now just shrunk to a single day. But what a single day and how many blooming people have turned up to join us! From the get-go, the place is heaving and it feels very obvious that the site has reached its 25,000 cap. Phoenix Lake’s drummer sprints onto the stage with the air of a man who has just woken up and realised he needs to be somewhere else altogether. They are a pleasantly efficient symphonic metal outfit that bring more bombastic intent than is strictly necessary at 10:30 in the morning. Lana Phillis has a real presence to her and serenades the rapidly filling tent with both panache and enthusiastic charisma.

Over on main the Republic of Ireland's Dead Label are continuing their slow but steady ascent into the mainstream of the rock fraternity. Hats off to them for their tenacity and their drive as they seem to have been pretty omnipresent in the scene over the last five years. What they do isn’t bad. Whilst they do sometimes veer into identikit alt-metal, there is enough eccentricity and flair here to make them stand out from the crowd. Overall, they produce enjoyable and listenable music which at this time on a Sunday is really all we want.

Overthrone are clear crisp route 101 metalcore. Bouncy choruses, soaring vocals and more energy than the Duracell bunny on speed. Their chief virtue is that they look like they're having an absolute ball careering around the Sophie stage. There is nothing more life-affirming than watching four people absolutely adore doing what they do.

It's probably horrendously lazy journalism and bordering on cultural stereotyping to say that Uuhai sound like The Hu, but I found very little to differentiate them from their Mongolian brethren. It's very well done and provides a much-needed pallet cleaner after three days of shouting and growling. However, as with The Hu, I don't find quite enough to engage me and once the novelty has worn off, I find my itchy feet urging me to visit another stage.

Stengah are astonishing. Like seemingly every other metal band to come from France they are not content with following a templated or preordained genre. Instead, we get a highly progressive take on tech metal that seems intent on confounding the listener at each and every turn. Where we expect a riff to go right it goes left, time signature shift when you expect them to stick and then stick when you expect them to shift. The amount of variance within even one song would in, other hands, mean that it all comes out a bit of a mess. But here they manage to pull that mess together into a coherent and astoundingly listenable whole.

Do you crave heavy metal played as frankly heavy metal should be played? Then All Hail The Yeti are the band for you. This is a heavy metal band playing heavy metal. There are no other influences, there are no other interferences and there is certainly nothing as banal as genre splicing going on. They are magnificently tunnel-visioned ploughing their furrow with authenticity and self-determination. They know what they want to do, and they know what the audience wants to hear. There is nothing new here at all but when this is done as well as this, frankly there is no need for innovation.

And yet again we move from one precipice of metal’s vast and varied empire to another as Tuskar manage to deconstruct and recalibrate the whole meaning of metal within their 40-minute slot (video interview HERE). During these reviews, I have been guilty of dishing out the superlatives like sweeties. However, if any band deserves the moniker extraordinary, incredible, and frankly unassailable then it is Tuskar. Two-piece acts are not uncommon in rock and metal but what is frankly revolutionary about this lot is the way they have subverted who does what.

Tom Dimmock’s guitar provides the rhythm and groove. He weaves a fascinatingly complex foundation on which his musical partner Tyler Hodges then builds upon. So far so ordinary. However, what then drag this into the extraordinary is the fact that Tyler plays drums. For forty minutes we get drums as the lead instrument. It's the drums that show the way, it's the drums that provide the meat in this open sandwich.

 Now I despise drum solos as much as the next man, but that's not what Tyler is doing. He doesn't play in a repetitive and circular manner, instead, he convolutes and contorts his drums into beams of pure kinetic energy. It is unique, it is astonishing, and it is frankly the best thing I see all weekend.

Tribulation are black metal transfused with the sensibilities of Goth (video interview HERE). What that means in practice is that the aggressive harshness is replaced by a heart-wrenching fragility. They exude a dark emotive energy, heavy but also subtle and ethereal. To use grand oversimplification metal plods where Goth swoons, and this afternoon Tribulation are very much in that swooning mood. There is an innate beauty at the heart of what they do. They use rugged pulsating riffs, but they are peppered with melodic undertones that soften the blows. A windswept neo-romantic set that proves that even Black Metal can be tender.

If I'm honest I'm not quite sure what Cobra The Impaler are actually doing but whatever it is, it's bloody marvellous. What hits you first is the size and scope of their sound. It's massive. Full of soaring melodies and crescending guitars. There are anthemic qualities, but there is enough girth and weight for it not to slip into self-indulgent territories. Instead, there is a precise and premeditated game plan going on here, creating accessible but simultaneously uncompromising metal. The songwriting is sublime. Everything is measured out and just the right consistency. No elements outshine any of the others. Just incredible.

Jesus on a bicycle, Decapitated have pulled a crowd. For the first time in my long history of Bloodstock going, the main stage field has become one gigantic impenetrable mass of people. Basically, you can get as far as the rock society tent but that’s it. It is obvious from the start that there is a real affinity between band and festival. Waclaw and Rafal both seem genuinely moved by the reception that they are afforded. Decapitated have had more than their fair share of hardships so it is particularly gratifying to witness 25,000 people hold them in such staggeringly high esteem. With the amount of goodwill and adulation pouring their way, this set is nailed on to be a success whatever the band does. But they don't stand on their laurels and instead plough forward with an awesomely constructed set of pure death metal.

Whereas Decapitated seem to be very happy to riff on the old skool, Invisions are about as modern as they come. Clean, crisp riffs with bouncy choruses and plenty of pop sensibilities. A saccharine fuelled explosion in a sherbet factory.

You can tell Ugly Kid Joe are still trying to comprehend how they are still doing this thirty years down the road. They take full credit for bringing the California sunshine and they seem intent on dispensing as many good time vibes as they can. They were heavy rock at a time that nobody was listening to heavy rock and that innate desire not to conform still shines through to this day. This is slick arena rock with a wry smile and a large dollop of self-awareness. 

They are blatantly aware that the vast majority of people are here for three songs and three songs only. In response, those songs are strategically placed around the set to ensure that our collective attention is retained for the full 45-minutes. ‘Neighbour’ and ‘Cats in the Cradle’ elicit an almost choral response (as does an exquisite Andreas Kisser’s aided version of ‘Ace of Spades’) but it is ‘Everything About You’ where the place just goes nuts. A nihilistic ode to teenage derision, it has aged spectacularly well. Custom built to be screamed along with, twenty-five thousand voices do it proud!

Church of the Cosmic Skull are the bastard children of ELO and The Eagles, fronted by Charles Manson. You know those people your mother always warned you about? Well it is them, on acid, with an organ and a tambourine. This is a Sunday afternoon service provided by the local cult. It is hypnotising, it is mesmerising and it is packed full with luscious melodies. I try to leave on numerous occasions, but my body feels transfixed. The complete antithesis to anything else on the bill, but frankly a soul-cleansing moment that is both ludicrous and redemptive.

The resurrection and redemption of Sepultura is complete. 2020’s “Quadra” is their finest piece of work since “Roots” and this evening they reward a headliner size crowd with a set of headlning proportions. The set list is beautifully choreographed, balancing choice cuts from the new album with fan favourites from the days when it looked like the band were about to become the next Metallica. Derrik Green has been their imposing front man for over 25 years, and he has long since exercised the ghost of Max Cavalera. He owns the stage and it becomes blazingly obvious that the Cavalera-era material now irreparably belongs to him.

The final 20 minutes of the set is stunning and captures the imagination of every heavy-metal lover in the vicinity. They go from ‘Refuse/Resistinto Arise’ into ‘Ratamahatta’ and culminate with ‘Roots Bloody Roots’. It is a closing salvo that other band can only dream of and it proves just what an important band they are in the evolution of this music. Yes there have been lean years, but in one fell swoop Sepultura show why they can never ever be written off.

Back on Sophie, Embodiment are doing a mighty fine impression of classic In Flames. Their brand of death metal is both technical and melodic and they burn off the stage with the conviction of someone who knows what they're doing is really rather good.

KK’s Priest have ridden to Bloodstock's rescue to replace the downed Helloween. Fears (and potentially expectations) that they are merely a souped-up Judas Priest band are dashed when they dispense a highly competent set peppered with a good chunk of their own material. When they do delve into the Priest back catalogue they go for deep cuts as opposed to the more obvious crowd-pleasers. He may now look like your great aunt Maude on the way to that S&M evening at Dog & Duck but Mr Downing is still an incredible guitarist and he zips around the stage with the speed and dexterity that really shouldn't be possible at his age.

However, the most exciting aspect of the show is seeing "Ripper” Owens back in action. Half man half mythology, he is part of a very small contingent of people who can say that they've been portrayed by Mark Wahlberg on screen. He remains an absolutely stunning frontman, owning the stage with authority and charm. As super subs go it turns into a rather spectacular replacement.

The Sophie stage is a hard one to fill due to the fact that entry is only from one side but Zeal & Ardor have packed them in up to the absolute rafters, with the overspill trailing back as far back as the Dodgems. It's incredibly edifying that a band this different playing this hard and lose with metals conventions have managed to bring this many people to the yard. The legend of their inception is now carved into the metal lexicon, Manuel Gagneux being challenged online to combine black metal with African-American spirituals. The result has spiralled beyond anyone's expectations.

There is a fizzling energy at the heart of Zeal & Ardor which is the potent power of voice. Normally heavy metal is led by the guitar but here it is the stringent tones of Manuel (and his two backing singers Denis and Marc) that guide the tracks forward. It is utterly stunning and consumingly mesmerising. The songs here tonight are simplistic in their minimalism, but deadly in their delivery.

 Because everything is stripped back, when the waves of corrosive riffs do arrive their impact is massively enhanced. The show may well have started with an audience made from roughly half devotees and half curious bystanders but by the time they slip into ‘Baphomet’, it is obvious that they managed to convert everybody to their cause. A ringing indictment for the utter majestical impetus of doing something different with metal. Absolutely amazing.

This Sunday every other T-shirt on site is a Megadeth one. It may well have only happened recently, but Dave Mustaine and his ever-changing lineup of contributors had finally ascended to legendary status. The anticipation is palpable, and the reaction is registrable on the Richter scale. The band have leaned into this newfound Imperial position by sharpening their act and dispensing with the sloppy performances that blighted them in previous decades. Tonight, there are not just on form, they are in incendiary form. 

Even though we are still within the album cycle for “The Sick, The Dying and the Dead!” they make but one visit to the latest creation. Instead, they take us on a rollercoaster journey across their highly impressive back catalogue. We stop in at ten of their 16 players including a rare outing for ‘Mechanix’ from their debut release, “Killing is my Business…And Business is Good”. The set is beautifully balanced, providing enough big drop moments for those whose interest waned after “Countdown to Extinction” but also containing a plethora of hidden gems for fans that have stuck around for the duration.

An on-form Dave Mustaine seems to now be de rigueur occurrence. He growls, he banters, and he genuinely seems happy to be here. The final furlong of the set proves beyond doubt why Megadeth are now held in such high esteem. ‘A Tout Le Monde’ flows into ‘Tornado Of Souls’ which then capitulates into ‘Symphony of Destruction’ and then we culminate with ‘Peace Sells’. An absolute masterclass in anthemic high-quality thrash.

But they are not done. The aforementioned ‘Mechanix’ makes its long overdue return and then we get a final encore of ‘Holy Wars…The Punishment Due..’. It is obvious that Megadeth are now incredibly comfortable with both their heritage and their position in metal’s hierarchy. By doing so they have finally reached the point where they can throw out headlining performances like this, which feel special and way above the ordinary. 

But there is one more band to go and fittingly for the year where Bloodstock truly embraced hardcore, it's the revitalised crossover kings Biohazard in their reunited classic Graziadei/Hambel/Seinfeld/Schuler line-up. Biohazard have always existed at the point where punk and metal meet. Their skillful absorption of the best qualities in both camps has meant that they have always remained a potent and unpredictable live act.

Billy Graziadei immediately deals with the elephant in the room by declaring that they will not be a repeat of their 2014 Bloodstock performance when over 300 people came over the barriers to join them on stage. He gleefully encourages us to make the orange jump at security work for their money but he makes it abundantly clear that the stage is this time a no-go area.

What is abundantly clear though, is how much the four of them are enjoying making music with each other again. They spa and banter in a way that is only possible if you have the utmost respect and trust for your fellow bandmates. Because this tour is an unashamed exercise in looking backwards we get nothing but nuggets from the first three albums, which means that everything aired is at least 30 years old.

They also make a point of playing tribute to original drummer Anthony Meo who died last month. Brevity has always been one of punk's virtues and the whole set is done and dusted within an hour. But this is very much quality rather than quantity and in a tornado of noise and posturing they prove that they are still simply one of the most crushing live acts around.

And that's it. Four days, umpteen bands and an ocean of smiles, hugs and general camaraderieship. Bloodstock is special because of the people who make it. Bloodstock is special because it doesn't want to be anything else but Bloodstock. This was (especially on Sunday) the most people that I have seen on site in my fourteen years of attendance, yet Bloodstock managed to retain that feeling of communal entwinement. It still felt like a small village where everybody knows everybody and more importantly everybody respects everybody. It still felt safe, it felt familiar and most importantly it felt like home. See you in 2024.

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
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