Live Review : Download Festival - June 12th 2022

Well, that's went blooming quick. No sooner has it all started than the final day is upon us. But it is all good. The sun is still shining, there are still some alcoholic beverages available to purchase (it's cider but any port in a storm) and we have a brace of bands to watch. The first port of call is Bristolian symphonic metallers Control The Storm. Given the price of fuel these days they must have blown their appearance fee in the first track as there is an awful lot of pyro present. In this country, we haven't been too wedded to the more exuberant and bombastic side of metal, so it is actually really refreshing to hear a band of this ilk speak with a thoroughly British accent. I have a real soft spot for the pomposity of symphonic metal, and it is obvious from the start that Control the Storm does it well. They may not attract a huge crowd (it’s Sunday, there are hangovers to nurse and the rather overrated Wargasm are on the main stage) but those of us who are here thoroughly enjoy it.

The camp counter is ratcheted up at least 10 more glitter-covered notches with a deliciously over-the-top cover of Bonnie Tyler's ‘Holding Out For a Hero’. Completely and utterly unnecessary but still wonderfully flamboyant fun. The fire also continues and by the end of the show, there are certainly in arrears with Download in regard to the amount of propane they must have used. Power metal usually gets short shrift at UK events, so hats off to whoever booked Control the Storm and I hope the fact that they were utterly fabulous means they will be even more adventurous next time.

Back to Dogtooth we go, for one of my personal finds of the weekend. The Velveteers were on my rota as a placeholder, something to do until Powerwolf came on. But Jesus they are utterly incredible. Think Stevie Nicks fronting a variant of The White Stripes where there are two drummers and both of them can play their instruments a lot better than our Meg. I keep thinking I've seen all the inventive ways of presenting our music, and then a band like this comes along. Two drummers whacking away in synchronicity works, it works astonishingly well. It creates a primal echo chamber, a rumbling reverberation that shakes the very foundation of your soul. Then on top of that you have the slight frame of Demi Demitro, she may cut a waiflike figure but she has an astonishing voice. It has a sultry sixties vibe to it, partially raspy but also capable of great clarity when required. What they produce is retro rock but thoroughly modern retro rock. It is very hard to pigeonhole them, above and beyond saying it is really rather fabulous.

Still, punch-drunk how good the Velveteers were, we head down the hill towards Powerwolf. Now back in 2016, Amon Amarth pulled out a headline set at midday on the Sunday, today Powerwolf has managed to repeat the feat. Now and again this country connects with a power metal band. Previously it had been Sabbaton but now it seems that the flowing robes had been handed to Powerwolf. They understand implicitly what a crowd wants in the early afternoon of the last day, they provide more audience participation than a Rocky Horror convention and more camp humour than the entire Carry On back catalogue. 

As our Alex points out in his review there is an awful lot of pontificating, but that is the point. Essentially Powerwolf are a Gothic comedy routine with added songs. All this adds up to one of the most entertaining hours of the whole festival. Everything that Iron Maiden got wrong last night, Powerwolf get right this afternoon. The continuous call and response give the game away, as this is a pure and utter pantomime. Brilliantly choreographed and stonkingly fun but still pantomime. I suspect that the thousands of punters squeezing the front would not dream of purchasing a power metal record, but I also suspect that the songs that they will be humming when they leave site tomorrow are ‘Demons are a Girl’s Best Friend’ and ‘We Drink Your Blood’. As far as I'm concerned that’s job done.

Over on second stage, Massive Wagons are conducting a smash and grab raid under Powerwolf’s noses for the title of the most entertaining band at Download. The stars seem to be pretty much aligned in their favour as from the off they are in stunningly good form. Starting with ‘Backs to the Stack’ is a genius move, infused with everything that made Status Quo the most exciting band on earth circa the mid-70s, it is the most perfect opening salvo. As they cruise into ‘Billy Balloon Head’ it becomes obvious that our Baz has cracked why Springsteen manages to interact with the entirety of a stadium. The secret is to use the cameras and Baz gleefully gurns into any lens that will have him. There is such a wonderful joyfulness about Massive Wagons, they are not earnest, but neither are they stupid. They are a spit and sawdust rock 'n' roll band that seems to have cottoned on how they transfer that to the big stage, potentially making the same leap that Queen made many decades ago. It's all about showmanship and Massive Wagons have got that in spades.

I really wish we could have stayed longer but we have a date with a band of pirates back on the main stage. The simple fact is that Alestorm are a shit band with shit songs. However, they also manage to personify the Download spirit more than any other band on the bill. They are good, clean (well sort of clean, just don't play your grandma the anchor song) stupid fun and there are times when only that will do. That probably explains why their milkshake has brought almost everyone on-site to the yard. It is shit pirate costume o'clock and the space running from the main stage to the lighting tower is a veritable sea of inflatable cutlasses. It's daft and it's bonkers, but it seems to be what everyone needs. So Alestorm may be shit but they'll be the one band everybody will be talking about when they go home.

Compared to Alestorm, who are a multicoloured carnival of absurdity, Tremonti feel rather staid and boring. Yes, Mr Tremonti himself is an awesome guitarist and yes, he seems to have been in almost every band that matters, but his solo stuff just feels dull. I may well be suffering from Scottish pirate metal withdrawal symptoms, but try as I might I just don't connect with the ditties that Mr Tremonti and his friends are supplying.

I skulk off in search of other pleasures and find myself in the presence of a rather perplexing Modern Error. Perplexing in that I don't know what to make of them and perplexing in that I'm convinced the singer and guitarist are the same people (they turn out to be identical twins, which after a long weekend of drinking starts to genuinely fuck with your head). There's a little bit of industrial, there is a bit of alt-metal and there are parts that go all Bullet for my Valentine on our bottoms. I'm still not quite sure what there were doing, but pretty sure that I will hunt them out elsewhere to get a second opinion.

Back in the second stage, the audience is a strange mix of people, like me, who adore Baroness and the friends they have dragged along to witness the greatness of this georgian juggernaut. Baroness are an unholy mix of primal sludge and intricate prog. Long ago they realised that prog's Achilles heel was the length of its songs. Quite simply they take the imagination and experimentation of prog and deliver it in neat five-minute packages. There is something hypnotic and transcendental about their groove. The riffs seem to be simultaneously corrosive but also full of warmth. As I said everything feels very simple but also very complex. As ever they just burn off the stage and the seemingly telepathic relationship between John Baizley and Gina Gleason has brought a whole new dynamic to the band. As always utterly wonderful.

Volbeat seem to have made Download’s late afternoon slot their very own, being at least the third time that they have appeared in it. As a band that will next weekend headline festivals all over the continent, they always seem to have an uphill slog in this country. There is not a bad attendance for them, and they don't get a bad reaction, however, it still doesn't feel that the UK audience has cottoned onto the fact that they are so darn special. As an uninitiated friend standing watching with me utters "it's Elvis fronts Metallica is it?”. Yes, it is and that's what is so good about it. This is bluegrass metal, a combination that they have been flogging now for over twenty years and a combination that nobody else seems to have cottoned on to. As ever they just ooze off the stage, a potent mix of smooth charisma and highly tuned musicianship. The set list is precision-engineered to make you want to dance because, for all my proclamations about bluegrass metal there is an infectious level of boogie-woogie here that just bores into your soul. As ever those who love them whoop and hollow and those who don't love them are probably packing their cars. They were wonderful, but sadly come two years hence they will be sitting in exactly the same position on the bill.

Fire from the Gods are currently getting some seriously positive vibes. They seem to be regularly topping ones to watch lists and they certainly popped up lots when people are discussing who they will go and catch this weekend. Musically, to my ears, they come across as Five Fingered Death Punch fronted by an in his prime Ice-T. They have punch and they have the presence, they just seem to be lacking in originality. Because as much as I enjoyed the twenty minutes I spent with them, I kept finding myself going “oh that sounds like this” and “that sounds like that”. There is something there, I just think I just need to work out what they actually want to be.

I'm not sure what number resurrection this is for The Darkness? It could be return from the dead number two and it could be return from the dead number three, well in all this excitement I kind of lost track of myself. What is true is that for a band that many people would view as superfluous in this day and age, they have pulled one hell of a crowd. Maybe it's a case that The Darkness were so far ahead of their time with their reinvention of classic rock that it is only now that they have finally found their place. Certainly, in a world proliferated with twentysomethings recycling Free and Quo riffs, their brand of flamboyant rock 'n' roll feels right at home. During the half an hour that I see them (I have other places to be), they are utterly magnificent. Justin Hawkins has physically matured but still seems to be the same cheeky chappie that won our hearts twenty years ago, he also knows how to work a crowd better than any other frontman that I see this weekend. The Darkness are indeed back in business and as Mr Mustaine would say business seems to be good.

I leave Mr Hawkins conducting his unique brand of audience participation and head to Dogtooth for one last visit. This one is special as the band is special. Twin Temple are completely out of sync with the rest festival and also completely in sync with the rest of the festival. This is satanic doo-wop, essentially how Amy Winehouse would have sounded if Pete Doherty had introduced her to Satanism as opposed to hedonism. It's metal in that it shares the same obsessions with the power of darkness, but it is also distinctly un-metal in the fact that it sounds like a lost Nancy Sinatra record. What is interesting is that they are positioning their brand of Satanism as being a champion against injustice, tyranny and inequality. Let's face it Christianity has not had much truck in tackling those issues so what's wrong with letting the other guy have a go? There is a delicious dash of post-modern irony about the whole thing, and it is wonderful in its macabre mischievousness. However, there is a novelty value here and whilst the release of a second album is imminent the real question is whether the concept will stretch to a third? 

The fundamental difference between British and American punk is that the former was produced by poor stupid angry kids whilst the latter was produced by rich clever angry kids. Case in point, the Descendants’ Milo Aukerman has a PhD in molecular biology whilst at best Johnny Rotten scraped through the school of hard knocks and the University of getting the shit kicked out of you. This means there's always been something more cerebral about the stateside take on punk. It has the same rush of pure energy but there is always more of an edge of sly intelligence to its lyrical content. Less nihilism and more cutting social commentary.

The Descendants have been at the heart of "clever" punk since their formation in 1977. This is their fifth coming after they reformed in 2010 following a fourth hiatus. Something must keep pulling the members back into the melee and that is probably the fact they have still got so much to say. This is punk as a weapon of constructive disruption. The desire for wanton destruction (a primary ingredient of the British variant) is not present, instead tonight's thirty-odd tracks take a decidedly comic, but undoubtedly witheringly pessimistic, look at the state of the world today.

Because The Descendants have been such a fundamental part of the American punk scene since its inception, you hear all of its various incarnations in their music. The tracks veer from in-your-face despondency, through Pixies-esque laid-back surf anthems and onto the bouncy sugar-coated variety that is dominant today. For a bunch of geezers in their late 50’s and early 60s, they are surprisingly sprightly and brimming with youthful energy. I asked earlier why they keep coming back to this, the answer seems to be because they are having a whale of a time. And because they have a whale of a time, we all have a whale of a time. A thoroughly decadent way to end the weekend.

However, the weekend is actually not done yet, there is one headliner to go. Now my track record with the Biffy Clyro ain’t good. Over the last 20 or so years, I've seen them dozens of times at dozens of different festivals, yet they have never impressed me. They have always, to me, come across as a pound shop Radiohead, bereft of any ideas that are uniquely their own. However, there are those whose musical tastes I highly respect who highly regard them and Mr Copping has booked them to headline a second time on the back of, in his words, "their incredible live shows". Never let it be said I haven't got an open mind; therefore I wander to the front with my “impress me” face on. To be honest it doesn't take me long to get to the front because the place whilst not empty would happily fit into the description of sparse. It seems a large number, if not half the ruddy festival, has taken this as an opportunity to head off home for an early bath.

To these ears, unfamiliar with the material, the opening feels anticlimactic and sadly it's all downhill from then. The second number sounds like the first and seems to lack any intention to want to grab me by the throat. The third contains predominantly acoustic guitars and seems intent on slowing down what was already a very pedestrian set. By this stage, I've started to play ‘I Spy’ by myself to keep myself amused and by the fourth song I am considering gnawing one of my own legs off just so I got something to do. I make it to the fifth track before they finally manage to break my spirit and I begrudgingly head towards the exit. Let it be said that I tried, I was more than happy to give them the benefit of the doubt, but I found nothing to convince me that they deserved my attention. I applaud the organiser’s attempts to broaden the musical palette at download, next time though can you put something nasty, fast and obnoxious on the second stage as an alternative, please.

And so with a slightly bittersweet taste in my mouth, I head home. To be honest my Download this year has predominantly been about the undercard. In my humble estimation two of the three main attractions spectacularly underperformed, but there was a whole wealth of goodness to be found further down the pecking order. That is the beauty of Download, it's the ultimate all-you-can-eat buffet of differing genres and variant styles. If you have the inclination you can run from one extreme of our musical world to another. You won't like all of it but you should experience all of it (look I did a full five songs of Biffy Clyro, I want a medal). It is that appreciation of the diversity and the variance that will stay with me long after memories of the actual music have faded.