Live Review : Damnation Festival on November 9th 2025

There is a lot of talk this weekend about community. About the unique community that Damnation and the associated “Two promoters'” podcast have created, and about how that community spreads between fans and artists. From meeting Keith from Deadguy in the pit to seeing James Scarlett propping up the bar, nodding along, it is clear that everyone is here because they love this music. There are no posers, hangers-on or musical tourists here. Damnation is a celebration of a community that cares about the bands it supports and each other (the proliferation of tribute t-shirts to fallen Damnation hero Bri is proof of that). They show they care by turning up, and on day two, it is a story of full houses after full houses right from the word go. 

If yesterday was about stretching the confines of the Damnation brand then today is about celebrating its past glories. The bill is a who’s who of Damnation house bands, pod mainstays and forum regulars, Devil Sold His Soul even sport a “Maths with Gav” t-shirt. Recent discussions on “2 promoters, 1 pod” have cast aspersions on reviews that like everything but the honest truth is that day two of Damnation is such a treasure trove of musical riches that it is impossible to find a negative word to say about any of the performances.

Hidden Mothers are part of the family, they were Damnation attendees long before they were considered to play, and they still regularly contribute to the festival's active forum. They therefore naturally pull a large crowd of enthusiastic observers keen to support one of their own. Their brand of heaviness is really interesting in that the brittle corrosive element is there, but it is married to a more expansive and psychedelic sound that is reminiscent of indie bands such as Spiritualized. They may be on whilst the hangovers from last night are still prevalent, but they manage to engage the audience impressively and it looks like they are having the time of their lives, finally getting on to the Damnation stage.

Over on the now entitled Cult Never Dies Stage, Ted Maul are performing a one-off resurrection. Now this reunion may not get the headlines of Oasis but it's obvious that for a gathered few up front, this is the equivalent of the second coming. Ted Maul existed for a brief but potent period in late noughties when they confounded expectations by deftly mixing drum and bass and heavy as fuck metal. Silent for 13 years, Gav has dragged most of the original line-up out of cryofreeze and unleashed them on an unsuspecting world. They are having the time of their lives as they carrier across the stage causing as much chaos as possible. Solomon J Lucifer Christ (who now fronts the much-fancied Red Method) is a brilliantly disruptive force, encouraging as much violence down front as he can get away with. A spirited return of a band that we never knew we needed so badly.

The crowd for Conjurer’s half midday show on main stage is astonishing. It stretches all the way back to the barriers for the bar queues in the far reaches of the room. Having performed their astonishing debut in full at the pre-show on Friday, today is all about their newly released record “Unself”. They begin with the title track from that album, and its fragile almost ethereal opening provides a discombobulating moment of calm and tranquillity before the noise inevitably kicks in. Like a lot of the really good stuff this weekend, Conjurer expertly traverses different worlds. There is a harsh heaviness, but it is tethered to an introspective emotional intelligence that is reminiscent of Pallbearer at their most sorrowful (an influence the band themselves cite). They are utterly incredible, building the sound in layers of textured beauty and then letting the hurtling guitars rip. It is the perfect combination of pristine songwriting and effortlessly emotive performance. A show that will indeed enter the Damnation Hall of fame.

Back on the now branded Meliora stage (probably the first time ever a software development company has given their name to a stage at a metal fest) it is the turn of another member of the Damnation brethren. Din of Celestial Birds have performed before, but as a super sub. This is their first proper booking at Damnation, and they fit the bill perfectly. Guitarist Andie Gill is probably more synonymous with the festival's vibrant online community than the organisers themselves, so it feels weird to see him in his sort of day job. There is a joyful exuberance to their brand of post-rock. It sidelines the melancholy and instead lets in the sunshine. It is infectiously positive and breeds a sea of happy smiling faces. Beautifully rendered and full of the hope that we all need, it lands exceptionally well.

A small stroll away, another return to action is underway. <code> haven’t been active in a live context for a decade. Whilst lumped in with the British Black Metal scene, there was always something more cerebral and cinematic about their sound. They prove that their stirring and tempered take on this usually brittle and coarse sub-genre was way ahead of its time. They are astonishingly vital, creating a stirring atmosphere that bewitches the listener. Rather than just pumpable those present, their version of black metal is much more subtle and reserved. It lulls you into submission with its intelligence as opposed to just going for the jugular. Highly impressive.

For an older section of the audience, Onslaught are the moment that many of us come in. Like war stories, the tales of purchasing “Power from Hell” on release are shared as badges of honour. They felt different to American thrash. They were brought up not in the sunshine of the Bay Area but in the drizzle of Blighty and that shared heritage made them particularly enticing for a British audience. There was also a dirtiness and non-conformity that stretched back to punk champions such as Discharge and the Exploited. They perform another damnation curated special set, digging deep into both the aforementioned “Power from Hell” and its follow “The Force”. They also have a secret weapon in the form of the man who is at the end of the day, the voice of Onslaught, Sly Keeler. Having quit for a second time in 2019 due to family reasons, this afternoon sees his miraculous return to the fold. His voice is as powerful as ever and drives the song perfectly. In the end, we only about half of the album, but hearing seminal tracks such as ‘Death Metal’ and ‘Power From Hell’ itself is worth the admission price alone. Coupled with a frantic but faithful cover of Iron Fist it is a blistering celebration of a band that influenced a lot of the heavy shit on display this weekend.

Back in clash city it is all about the punk aesthetic. With a dividing wall between them Coilguns and the old faithful Stampin’ Ground are proving that politics and music do mix, and the best way to protest against the system is to jump around a lot. The former hail from Switzerland and are, from the get-go are a blurred vision of flailing limbs and displaced bodies. They possess an admirable social consciousness and see their job as getting the audience to simultaneously think and move. Louis Juckler is an incredible front person. He is a ball of hyperactive energy that bounces around the stage in a perpetual circular movement. They frizzle with kinetic intent, and the level of interaction is infectious. Musically, they happily play with convention, there is a groove to their heaviness but rather than be filthy and funky it feels’ pristine and pop. As if Kylie decided she actually cared about world affairs and formed a punk band. Both brilliant and inspiring.

On the other side of that well-worn wall, Stampin Ground are well over capacity. The room is chocker and they add fuel to the fire by continually demanding bigger and bigger pits. Whilst they never broke through, Stampin’ Ground have cultivated a reputation of being one hell of a live band, with part of that due to their incendiary performance at Damnation ’14. Today, they take that high bar and vault over it. They are amazing. Brutal, raging and brimming with potent power. There are shoutouts to Gav for getting them back together, a wall of death that stretches to the soundesk and that song. ‘Officer Down’ has become the anthem of British hardcore. Solomon J Lucifer Christ joins them for it to marshal the troops, and the whole thing is a beautifully cohesive mess. An astonishing return and a Bloodstock booking next year shows there is more to come.

Primordial are yet another band with a venerable history with this festival. This is their fourth appearance but their first in the new(ish) home. Their brand of expansive Celtic metal works well in a massive hall. It takes on an epic storytelling vibe and tracks like ‘To Hell or the Hangman’ feel cinematic, muscular and widescreen. It's not exactly power metal, but it has that anthemic, chest-beating quality. Big, voluminous, and perfectly at home in an arena, they, as ever, absolutely slay it.

Back over with the double headers, it is very much a case of beauty and the beast. The beauty is the stark, ornate, crisp prog of Psychonaut. Cascading walls of fragility that interlace with each other to become towering cathedrals of vulnerability. It is all exquisitely rendered, and it feels as if every note is intrinsically and meretriciously placed to build these wonderful aural structures. It is another example where it is just a joy to watch the three members create.

However, at the other end of the building it is getting distinctly ugly and chaotic. Raging Speedhorn are the alpha and the omega. They are the one act this weekend that links us back to where it all started as Speedhorn had the honour of headlining the first Damnation (though as he tells us later, our Frank wasn’t there as he had temporarily left the band at that stage). Something is reassuringly consistent about Speedhorn, in that they are always an unpredictable mess. That is their beauty, the ability to exist just on the right side of unruly and unkept. A Molotov cocktail time bomb that threatens to go off the rails but always makes it round the bends, just. The room is once again heaving and there is a wonderful feeling of expecting the unexpected. The set is allegedly fan chosen, though it is more likely that uber fan Gav has slipped them a list on a fag packet with “play this” scribbled on top. We get a typical Speedhorn show, but wilder and more anarchic. There is a joy in this madness, and this is why Speedhorn continue to be a name to uphold. 

Last time they were here Pig Destroyer made an unholy mess. Performing “Prowler in the yard” in its entirety, they turned the entire room into an undulating maelstrom of bodies. It was an impressive sight. A whole room going ape shit before teatime. They have therefore earnt their inclusion on today’s Damantion’s greatest hits mainstage bill. The chaos is a little more restrained this time around, but they still manage to be reassuringly rough and ready with the Duracell bunny (apparently, he is a fan) leading the charge in the pit. We still get a fair bit of Prowler, but this time around it is balanced with an equal amount of stuff from its successor, “Terrifyer”. One of the many astonishing things about Pig Destroyer is how the electronic beeps and whirls never feel clean or synthetic. They have the same worn sheen of dirt as the guitar, and combined, the whole thing feels wonderfully battered and bruised. It doesn’t eclipse that set, but it makes a valiant attempt.

Devil Sold his Soul are trying to get nearly an hour and a half's worth of material into three-quarters of an hour. They have agreed to do a set based on their inspirational first EP and first album, but sadly, the combined run-time doesn’t match the minutes they have been allotted. Inside, we get a truncated version of both meddled together. Functioning now as a part-time recreational project for their impressive six members, they come across as giddy fans that have won the lottery. Constantly thanking those present for choosing to watch them, they also get into the spirit of things by sporting t-shirts inspired by Gav and James Scarlett’s podcast and throwing out in in-jokes connected to it. Musically, they are a fantastic mix of fragility and aggression. The duel vocals of Paul Green and Ed Gibs mix between harsh and harmonious and beautifully offset the swirling music underneath. They definitely deserved longer to do their masterpieces justice, but they still manage to be majestically wonderful.

Going up against them are one of modern metal’s most inspiring success stories. Hellripper is a one-person studio project of wonderkid James McBain. In a live setting, he is joined by three session musicians (including bassist Andy Milburn, who is celebrating his birthday today) who manage to bring his vision to life. They simultaneously venerate the past of metal and celebrate its future. It is fast and furious, but there is an intriguing depth to his material. It manages to sound like what has gone before, but also reassuringly and refreshingly different. A new album is imminent, and if teaser Kinchyle (Goatkraft and Granite) is anything to go by, it will be a ripper (pun intended)

Anaal Nathrkah get the prize for the largest crowd of the weekend. The size of the audience they pull into the main hall is frankly insane for a band as penetratingly intolerable as Anaal Nathrakh. It speaks to the wonder of Damnation that six thousand people can gather to watch something as nihilistically nasty as this. Anaal Nathrkah are extreme metal incarnate. They are not speed, death, black, industrial or sludge metal; they are all of them, at the same time. They sound like the end of the world, and though others try, there is just nothing like them. Mick Kenny is still off doing Brazilian funk (don’t ask), so our Dave continues to be backed by most of Voices in this re-booted version of the band. No new material seems forthcoming, so instead the setlist has been recalibrated to bring in a whole host of deep cuts from their impressive back catalogue. ‘Of Fire, And Fucking Pigs’ and ‘When the Lion Devours both Dragon and Child’ both return after a decade's absence and Dave makes a virtue of the fact that he is trying to broaden the musical ability of the band. As ever, Dave is at the heart of everything. His voice soars like a bird of prey, and his deadpan wit is wonderfully esoteric. ‘Obscene as Cancer’ is movingly dedicated to Tomas Linderburg of At the Gates and Dave seems genuinely emotional as he pays tribute to a man he called a friend. A greatest hit ending is promised, and Forward see’s the place explode. As bruisingly brilliant as ever, with the only niggle being where the hell was ‘Do Not Speak’?

The world is split into two types of people: those who have experienced the majesty of Nordic Giants and those yet to. They are a life-affirming transcendental experience. Two figures covered in feathers, each in their own neon pod, noodling away on multiple instruments as they accompany short films that play above them. It is an astonishingly emotive encounter, hypnotic, immersive and frequently unbalancing. The videos make the music and music makes the videos. They exist in a beautiful symbiotic balance, each enhancing the other. It is a spiritually fulfilling experience, and the room is full of people having moments, or maybe it is just the time of the day.

Next door Author & Punisher are being exceptionally heavy, far heavier than you would expect from an electro duo. It is slabs of solid granite heaviness smashing down onto the stage in a torrent of discombobulating unworldly noise. Invigorating but simultaneously off-putting it is sensory overload of sound. 

Patrik Jenson is resolute that The Haunted never split up or went on hiatus. Things just got in the way, and they went quiet for eight years. But here they are back with a new album and ready to prove they are far, far more than an At The Gates spin off. You can clearly hear the lineage and the melodic death is strong with them. But there is also a pulsating aggression at play. The melody is in many places dialled down, and the guttural death is played up. In many ways, they have more in common with prime-time Entombed than they do with the band that birthed them. They are excellent this evening and you can't help by blown away by the musical dexterity on display. Adrian Erlandsson remains one of the most impressive (and prolific) drummers out there, and he pounds away with rhythmic procession. His partner in Jonas Björler, is equally dextrous as he drives the tracks with pounding bass. It is just a joy to watch musicians of this calibre play.

Mantar continue the trend of the weekend of doing something different with constructs we thought were sacred. They create a sludgy minimal sound that is barbaric and shorn of comprise. By dispensing with bass completely, everything is reduced to a carnal organic soup of potent brutality. It is heavy, uncompromising and at times blisteringly slow. The creeping velocity means it feels like a cold finger running down the backbone, off-putting but also intriguing and alluring. Torrid and totally immersive. Running concurrently is one of the crown jewels of this year's bookings. 2024’s “Songs of Blood and Mire” was one of the best black metal albums in years. A pure torrent of hate, it just accelerated in frenzied, antagonistic evil.

Getting Spectral Wound back to this country is seen as a blinder only possible with the strong early sales this year’s festival. The room is accordingly heaving, with many seeing this as their last must-see before they head off home. They are astonishingly good, a whirlwind of icy distorted guitars and malevolent atmospherics. Shrouded in half-light and smoke, vocalist Jonah towers over the audience. It is such a powerful and evocative performance. There is barely any interaction, it is just brutal and haunting track after brutal and haunting track. Truth if ever you need it, is that getting your tickets early pays dividends.

Damnation 2025 has been a case of constant oneuppersonship. Every time you think you have witnessed the set of the weekend, another act comes along, says "Hold my beer!" and proceeds to beat six shades of shit out of your expectation. With Amenra, it is slightly different; we know how good they can be, the festival has borne witness to it before on two separate occasions. However, we have forgotten just exactly how high that bar of good actually is. They are an astoundingly ferocious and frighteningly perfect beast. They create waves of undulating, and unstoppable sound that come crashing down upon the audience. It's like being in an unforgiving tempest of a storm. The point where it stops, or at least the intensity slightens, feels like brief respites where we fight to regain composure. Vocal torturer Colin H. Van Eeckhout performs with his back to the crowd, rocking in a coma of personal agony, he screams at the images that play on the large screen behind them. As said, even if we know how fantastic Amenra are this show still manage to defy our expectations and eke out another strand of originality. Unbelievable.

Midway through Warning’s emotionally wrought retelling of “Watching from a Distance”, front man Patrick Walker states it is really rather special to record an album that people want to listen to, and it is even more astonishing to record an album that people still want to listen to twenty years later. Some artists can be rather coy about their masterpieces, but Patrick is acutely aware that he and his band created something rather extraordinary with “Watching from a Distance”. It is a bleak treatise on loss and rejection and speaks to every unrequited and desolate feeling we have ever had. This is a note-perfect rendition that manages to strain-out every ounce of anguish in the album. It is a heartwrenching experience. There is no hope within “Watching from a Distance”, is just the personification of perpetual underachievement and all-encompassing self-doubt. For a festival in its dying throes they pull a rather impressive crowd, and the tears start to flow moments into the opening track. For those who have lived with the album for the last decade, it has soundtracked break ups, divorce and tragic loss. Therefore in real time you can see it trigger those feelings across the room. An emotionally affecting hour that once again showcasing the majesty of the album that Patrick and his compatriots created. 

As headliners of the Cult Never Dies stage Wiegedood are partaking in quite the incredible marathon of a performance. Stretched over a frankly ridiculous two-hour length they bring us the entire “De Doden Hebben Het Goed” trilogy in chronological order. For an audience that has been experiencing extreme and demanding music constantly for nearly 48 hours, it is rather a stretch to expect them to commit nearly hundred and 20 minutes to this endeavour. Consequently, the attendance is far sparser than you would expect for a set this special, and it empties even further when it starts to clash with Napalm Death. These who do commit are treated to a hypnotic and absolutely incredible performance that just transfixes the watcher. The three albums are presented exactly as they are on record. There is a warmth and vitality to Wiegedood’s black metal that makes it feel distinctly less nihilistic than their peers. It's full of hope rather than hatred; the blazing intensity is used to signal a need for change rather than a desire to destroy. As it all finally comes to an end with “De doden Hebben Het Goed” III’s Parool, there is a realisation that not many of us have made it through the whole thing, but those who have, witnessed something extraordinarily special.

Just like that feeling of elation that hits you in the last yards of a marathon, there is a sense of achievement to have made it all the way to the final band of the weekend. Being honest, whilst they are legends within their own lunchtime, Napalm Death’s crowd is not the largest of the weekend. Having said that, it still manages to be explosively violent. Those who are left decide to expend whatever reserves of energy they have left. It sparks back into life for one last spin of the dial, and the bodies flow over the barrier. Barney, early on, points out this one crucial component missing. Mainstay Shane Embury is having the time off to do life things and a musician named only as Adam has been brought in to on his words provide in Barney’s words a different haircut on his right. 

Napalm death quite rightly become the most odd member of the national treasures. Everyone knows the name and everyone knows they are synonymous with political discourse and pure nihilistic noise. There is something triumphant about their inability to change over forty years and their continued commitment to their values and their beliefs. The screens scream out their manifesto to speak out against intolerance whenever they see it. Whilst many peel off during the set and head home there is a hardy few who stay to the bitter end, and it is a valiant display that proves why Napalm Death are now considered a rightful headliner of this sort of events.

And there we are. Damnation 2025. Complete. It is a masterful success in every area. After four years at Bowlers, every wrinkle and niggle has been ironed out. Everything works exceedingly well, the organisation feels slick and professional but also warm and caring. The chairs, which do give it an air of a Chris de Burgh concert, are still a testament to the personal touch of this event. Damnation 2025 took what was already a fantastic example of how to work with the community and just accelerated. The thousand blind booked tickets for 2026 proves that the event will go from strength to strength, and we just can't wait to see what will happen next. See you next year.

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

Napalm Death + Wiegedood + Warning + Amenra + Spectral Wound + Mantar + The Haunted + Author & Punisher + Nordic Giants + Anaal Nathrakh + Hellripper + Devil Sold His Soul + Pig Destroyer + Raging Speedhorn + Psychonaut + Primordial + Stampin’ Ground + Coilguns + Onslaught + <code> + Din Of Celestial Birds + Conjurer + Ted Maul + Hidden Mothers