Saturday arrives and the weather is threatening us with rain. However, with the spacious layout of the arena and the fact that the bar is in a tent, impending downpours do not dampen the spirits of the attendees.

Today’s openers are Ransom, a NWOBHM band brimming with irrepressible energy. They bound onto the stage with the giddy untamed enthusiasm of a gaggle of toddlers. They proceed to give us a set that is both traditional and tight. They tread a well-worn path but they do it impeccably well and the crowd duly pull out their air guitars and get down with them. 

Spirits remain high for The Wicked Jackals, a band who knock out plenty of competent party metal peppered with catchy choruses and a whole heap of enthusiasm. Their sound has matured a lot since Rockflesh’s last dalliance with them, and despite (or maybe because of) a couple of lineup changes in recent years they seem to have settled into their own skins and perform with rampant confidence.

King Voodoo are another band with a fairly traditional metal sound but yet again the passion they exude more than makes up for any lack of originality. While they aren’t breaking any barriers sound-wise, they draw a decent crowd and competently fulfil that early afternoon itch competent and compelling performances.

White Raven Down describe themselves as modern heavy melodic rock. Whilst there is a dalliance with the traditionality of the previous two acts, there also seems to be a distinctly different sound emerging. They lean into the melodism creating great sweeping singalong moments. 

Spyder Byte are a bunch of glammed-up reprobates with an upbeat sleazy sound and a bucketful of infectious attitude. Their rock is a little lighter, a little less serious and well up for a party. It is a concoction that sits very well on the tongue and whilst the material is very easy to consume it doesn’t stop it from being sumptuously delicious. 

Star Circus also deviate from the metal but this time in the veritable direction of classic rock. Whilst they are obviously highly conscious of the foundations of the music that we all love they simultaneously managed to be vibrant and fresh, with catchy riffs and a touch of brightness. There continues to be something wonderfully uplifting about watching a bunch of youngsters whose parents weren’t even born in the 70s, make a magnificent din. 

Dead Demons take us back to the metal with a set reminiscent of an even more doomy Black Sabbath. There is a change of guard upfront and the crowd is older and a little more grizzled, with air guitars are once again out in force. They manage to sprinkle their doom with some nice spacious choruses and overall it is an enjoyably forceful set

On the other side of the site, Haxan are providing a foot tapping and bum shuffling whale of a time. An all-female classic rock trio from South Wales they prove that stripped-down rock ‘n’ roll doesn’t have sell by date. They may not be forging any new musical highways but their rampant enthusiasm and obvious musicality goes down well with the crowd. 

Nasty Ratz have come all the way from Prague. They obviously face some sort of sound difficulties and their set starts 20 minutes late. This means many of the crowd who had come in to catch a glimpse of them have given up the ghost and gone off elsewhere to be entertained by the time they finally make it on stage. When they finally got going the music isn’t bad, but the vocals struggle and the whole thing feels slightly half cocked. 

Luckily they are followed by Sam Miller, a genial northern cheeky chappie with a fine line in bubblegum AOR. It’s cheesy and catchy, instantly hummable and happy. With his white jacket and flowing locks Sam is like an ice-cream man; vanilla on the surface but always with the promise of hidden depths. It’s frothy and lightweight but it’s still rock and Sam has a great selection of gurning guitar face as well as the bounciest bass player on the stage today in Benji Faith. Despite the onset of a little rain a good time is had by both band and crowd. 

There’s a real buzz at the moment about Moskito. The Trailblazer tent is rammed back to the bar and their short but sweet set is incredibly warmly received. What they do immensely well is splice jaunty indie with straight-up rock. They are bouncy and brimming with youthful energy. They have a bucket fall of bangers they may well owe a debt and a half to the Primal Scream’s “Rocks”, but still feels distinctly exciting. 

And then we have the emergence of the Scandinavians. The drizzle has begun in earnest now, but it can’t dampen our enthusiasm for Confess. The Swedish sleaze kings have recently parted company with their second guitarist, so the sound is a little thinner than we are used to. They make up for this though with a raw, emotional set of down and dirty riffing. This band has mastered the art of a punch-the-air chorus, and every song is stuffed with places for the crowd to get involved and bounce along with them. The mood is brought right back up during their set, and even though it was still raining the day suddenly seems a lot brighter. 

They are followed by Hell’s Ditch, the current side-project of festival director Lee. In an inspired bit of marketing they had packed the Trailblazer stage by promising some line-dancing, but sadly this was not to be. We did however get a set of upbeat noughties pop-punk crossed with emo and just a touch of metalcore. It is cheerful, it is happy, it is throwaway but most importantly it is fun. Who needs a cowboy hat anyway, right?

South of Salem hit the stage in a blaze of pyro and cheerleaders. Much has been written in these hallowed pages about this band in the last couple of years, as they have slogged around the circuit with their unique blend of goth and glam rock. All that work is finally paying off and tonight they give us a set that is polished to perfection. The lyrics may be dark and deep but the show is pure theatre and their corpse-painted faces blur into one as they rush about the stage trading licks, harmonies and the catchiest songs this side of the last time we saw them. 

They are engaging, exciting and just a little bit enigmatic, using the smoke cannons to great effect to highlight the strength of their performance rather than make up for any weakness. The set is half-and-half old songs from their first album and newer ones from the recently-released “Death Of The Party”, and they use all the tricks – the crowd is parted like the Red Sea to sing the woah-oh-oh bits in the choruses, horns are up and fists are pumped, the crowd knows every word and sings along with . On the strength of this performance it’s entirely possible that one day this will be a band where you will be able to say “I saw them when…..” as they travel the world selling out arenas and such. 

And so finally we have the headliners. When announced, there was much scratching of heads and mutters of “Who”? but regular readers of these pages will be familiar with Finnish thrashers Lost Society. They have been around in various incarnations for some 12 years now, starting out as pure thrash Metallica-alikes and gradually finding their own style that’s somewhere between Slipknot and The Cure. Singer Samy Elbana has been very honest in both interviews and his lyrics about his struggles with mental health, and there have been many ups and downs with both the band and Samy himself over the years. 

Tonight then is an experiment – it’s Lost Society’s first festival headline in the UK and it turns out to be an absolute triumph for them from start to finish. As usual the band wear dark uniforms bearing the mysterious logo, whilst Samy is a shining star in a white vest emblazoned with the slogan “Cult Leader”. He prowls the stage like a caged big cat, occasionally stabbing the crowd with a thousand-yard stare but equally bursting into the biggest cheesiest grin as well. It’s very obvious that this is a new Samy, an energised Samy, a healthy Samy, and as he holds this unlikely crowd in the palm of his hand his excitement, gratitude and yes power are palpable. 

But what of the music? Well there are some eight albums of material to cover and the set skids up and down touching on all of them. They display their thrash roots, they also bare their souls to us. They have an energy that’s enticing, and it doesn’t take long for all the doubters to come out from the edges of the field and crowd to the front of the stage so they too can become part of the cult. There is pyro galore, flames and sparklers threaten the band’s collective eyebrows on a regular basis and occasionally they disappear in a cloud of haze only to re-emerge, guitars aloft, and rip the night to pieces. If this field had a roof they would have torn it off!

 The performance is flawless, the sound is crystal clear, the lights are blinding and the whole experience is breathtaking. Highlights of the set include Samy, alone with just a piano backing track, voice breaking as his experience with mental breakdown is re-lived during ‘Suffocating’. The twin guitars wail, necks in the air, as notes are wrung out of them. The whole thing comes together beautifully, and the roar of the crowd for what was largely an unknown quantity is both amazing and gratifying. As I head back to my van after the show the field is ringing with cries of “Wow, what a band” and it’s obvious that although many thought that Call Of The Wild had taken a bit of a gamble on them delivering the goods, it’s paid off handsomely and deliver they did. 

Check the “In The Flesh” page for more photos!
Call Of The Wild Galleries 2024