Live Review : Download Festival on June 9th 2023

Understandably we are all a bit confused. Friday feels like Saturday, Saturday like Sunday and Sunday like an excursion to the surface of the sun. It’s also hot, dusty and really busy. Any inclination that the Bring Me The Horizon day would see a lull in attendance is soon knocked on the head. The place is jumping and jiving from the get-go and the sold-out signs on all the BMTH merch makes it clear that they are not making up numbers as we wait for Metallica Part 2. 

Our day starts back in Dogtooth with American scuzzy blues duo Taipei Houston, who sound like the Black Keys with sprinkles of early Queens of the Stone Age. Unlike the other comparative of the White Stripes, they actually are siblings, and their shared surname of Ulrich probably gives away how they have acquired such a prestigious opening slot.

Mancunian goth punk quartet Witch Fever follow and they seem rightfully pissed at the world my generation is leaving for them. Music is political whether you like it or not and Witch Fever wear that politics on their sleeves. They are proud foot soldiers in the culture wars and make a point in calling out the continued trivialisation of sexual assault. Indeed, they seem intent on pushing back against the sexism and misogyny that is still inherent within the music business. Musically they share the magpie-like agility of their fellow Generation Zers, gleefully and irreverently plucking from the past and contorting it to create new sonic frontiers. Fierce and freestyle they prove that punk isn’t dead, it's just been passed onto its grandkids.

Download is often perceived to be rather safe and mainstream in its booking choices. However, that is rather a fallacy as the inclusion of Pupil Slicer proves. There is simply nobody like them in that they managed to traverse the very boundaries of what is actually music. To the uninitiated, they may sound like discombobulated noise but there are subtle patterns and great melodic chains to be found but they are really really buried. The fascinating thing about watching Pupil Slicer is wondering how they manage to find as musicians coherence within their wall of sonic distortion. It's stunning, invigorating and it's just so different from everything else out there. Beyond the apostles down front, the rest of the dogtooth tent don't know quite what to make of them but the fact that they are here plying their wares amongst establishment is a victory enough.

Undeath are plotting the future of death metal by going very much back to the basics of genre. Over the years it has been gentrified in so many different ways that you can argue that has lost its inherent power and ability to shock. Undeath are intent on peeling that all back and returning to the primal organic ooze that bands like Obituary, Possessed and Death originally rose from. 

This is death metal with all the trappings removed. It is short, nasty, nihilistic, corrosive and utterly wonderful. For 25 minutes they utterly own the place, stomping around the shop like a herd of hyperactive elephants. Screw technicality and screw any sense of melody. This is death metal stripped back to its unpleasant and rotten core and it utterly utterly incredible.

Moving out into the sunshine and across to the second stage it's time for a complete change in texture and consistency. You see whilst being a particularly maligned and underrated art form in this country, we have a fully-fledged symphonic metal takeover taking place on the Opus stage. When Epica last played here in 2019 they attracted no more than a mere handful of spectators and a confused dog named Trevor (I might be making it up about the dog). I'm not sure what has happened during the intervening years but the place is absolutely rammed for their return fixture.

They also have brought with them what equates to a headline band setup. Two mechanical dragons (that's what they look like from my vantage point if they are another mythical being altogether sue me) spew fire across the expanse of the field and there is enough platforms and ladders to have a rather effective real-life game of Mario Bros.

Performance wise they have also brought their A-game and Simone Simons seems to be in particularly good spirits hurtling herself around the stage at breakneck speeds. There may be a teensy weeny bit of competitiveness going on in terms of Epica wanting to plant their flag in advance of the coming symphonic heavyweights of Within Temptation and Evanescence, but whatever the reason they are simply stunning this afternoon.

Captivating and full of luxurious opulent wonder, everything just seems to click. The audience is also swept along the first notes of ‘Abyss of Time’ all the way to the dying embers of ‘Consigned to Oblivion’. The gleeful faces of the band illustrate that they too realise that there is something extremely special going on this afternoon. Maybe this is the moment the UK finally wakes up to the wonder of extravagant symphonic metal.

I'm not sure whether it is the calibre of what is on offer or my reduced level of mobility but this year I make just one visit to a pop punk neon saccharine factory that is the Avalanche stage. It is for the unexpected but not unwanted return of Merthyr Tydfil’s finest, The Blackout. I am not a core kid, but I have always held a candle for their irreverent and arcane brand of post-hardcore. They seemed to jettison the histrionics and self-delusional tones of other acts and instead were about simply having a good time, which to be honest in my view is the best reason to be in a band. In many ways, nothing has changed. They are as chaotic, discourteous, and impertinent as ever. There is less hair and more waistline but apart from that it's like the last seven years hadn't happened. 

There was always a real connection between the Blackout and their audience, and it is evident that this is still very much in place. Their evangelical followers are no longer teenagers and a number seem to have procreated and brought their own offspring with them to experience the elation of this return. There is such an emotionally charged feeling in the air that is impossible not to be swept away with the pure happiness that is pumping out of the tent. ‘This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things'‘ is the top 10 smash that they never had and the entire tent screams along like it is once again 2010. Turns out that no matter what they say, you can go home and it is jolly good fun.

By the time I return to the second stage field it is already beginning to redefine the term rammed. On paper it might seem to be a genius idea to put the double-header of Within Temptation and Evanescence on the second stage, in reality, it creates a simultaneous crowd surge and bottleneck that borders on the unsafe. Stadium fillers over on the continent, it seems like Within Temptation may finally be getting their dues in this country. The reaction when Sharon den Adel and her wandering minstrels take the stage is simply astounding. Aside from three songs from the forthcoming record, we get a veritable greatest hits set essentially giving us everything we would want from a Within Temptation show. The sun may still be shining but the breeze has picked up and Sharon finds herself blustered around the stage. “We don't even need a wind machine” she comments with her tongue firmly in her cheek. 

It is that humility mixed with slick commerciality that makes Within Temptation such a sumptuous proposition. Sharon talks with heart-breaking honesty about the death of her father at the beginning of ‘Supernova’ and even though everything is immaculately rehearsed there is still so much warmth and humanity at play. They are all obviously moved by the sheer scale and substance of the reception that they receive, and it is clear that this is more than just another gig. ‘What Have you Done Now’ ushers a mass sing-along that resonates to every corner of the field and final song ‘Mother Earth’ closes the deal with absolute consummate showmanship. An acquired taste, my arse.

At this point my evening deviates from my well laid plans. GWAR have been postponed a day because their equipment hasn’t arrived (and an unplugged GWAR set is probably use nor ornament to no-one) and having left the confines of the Opus Stage there seems to be no feasible way back in (more than later). So expectedly I find myself in the company of Architects, who utterly own the shop. As always there is real vulnerability to their performance. They may well be finally sub-headlining Download but they have got the hard way. ‘Doomsday’ is as ever dedicated to the memory of Tom Searle and Sam Carter spends as much time eulogising about his imposter syndrome as he does singing. He talks with brutal honesty about the long road to this point and reveals that whilst he may be clad in the sparkly trousers of a rock star he doesn’t feel it. 

It has taken them ten albums and various changes in sound and personnel to get to this point and they are hyper-aware that it is unlikely that the vast majority of tonight’s crowd have been there for the entire voyage. Therefore, they concentrate exclusively on the last three albums (apart from a singular opening salvo of ‘Nihilist’ from career highlight “All Our Gods have Abandoned Us”). It’s a clever move that means that the set feels tight and focused rather than sprawling and unfocused. They might not be the nihilistic noise kids that they once were but what they prove tonight is they are completely at ease connecting with a crowd this size. That headline set is now there for the taking…

©edmasonphoto

©edmasonphoto

©edmasonphoto

So Evanescence was my next destination, but the simple fact is that you can’t get within the same postcode as the Opus Stage. Whether they are there out of curiosity or out of serious dedication, the entire festival attendance has decamped to the second stage field and it is a solid wall of people from the ice cream truck forward. So instead, I head to Dogtooth for Carpenter Brut. As a cursory glance there are great similarities between them and last night headliners, Pertubator. However Carpenter Brut are very much the Stones to Pertubator’s Beatles. Whilst the latter are precise and almost quite clinical in their sound, there's a lot more fuzziness and actual warmth to be found in the former.

Live Franck Hueso is ever flanked by guitarist Adrien Grousset and drummer Florent Marcadet, from French metal band Hacride. Their combined contributions mean that is never just feels like one geezer playing with his synths. Thre is a real expansion and depth to the sound that takes it beyond simply being rave metal. This evening they start at 80 miles an hour and just accelerate. As I said in my previous review whilst Pertubator was magnificent it does sometimes feel like a hundred different variations of 80s telly tunes. With Carpenter Brut it is different and the closest I can get is to describe it as the Prodigy when they would really hit their stride. On many occasions this evening it stops being electronic music altogether and becomes heavy metal just led by sequences and samples. It is fervently joyful and the whole tent is caught up in the euphoric whirlwind. 

It begins to empty towards the end as people head off to find their spot for Bring Me The Horizon but most people stay in order to bath in the utter post-modern ironic lunacy that is they cover of ‘Maniac’ from the Flashdance soundtrack. It is 3 and a half minutes of pure deranged disco magic and voices that only yesterday screamed "die die die" along with creeping death are screaming " She's a maniac, maniac on the floor and she's dancing like she's never danced before” with utter rapture.

Say what you like about Bring Me The Horizon the staging for tonight's controversial headline appearance is nothing short of spectacular. They have broken all thoughts of conventions by placing the drum kit and synth set up on either side of the stage, high high up on a massively elongated platform. What this does is suddenly expand and extend the space available to them. Rather than focusing everything down to 4 dudes playing within a tightly confined space, they instead provide an experience where everywhere you look there is something to visually devour. They also managed to spectacularly mesh state-of-the-art video screens and animation with real-life performance art. It feels revolutionary, it feels boundary-breaking but most of all it feels like it belongs here.

Ollie talks openly about the nerves that come with headlining such a prestigious and actually ultimately conservative event. In fact, he talks an awful lot. Simultaneously deriding and bantering with his audience, pushing and encouraging us to give the band every last iota of what we've got. He is also disarmingly honest about his personal demons and insecurities that come with being a member of the human race. He connects with every one of a hundred thousand people stretched out before him in a manner that few others can. 

If there were any doubts that Bring Me The Horizon were ready for this moment, then they are dashed by the tenacity and the ferocity of their performance. Some may say that they no longer operate within our world and if that is true then this show is a triumphant return to our shores. Yes, there are moments of synthetic and saccharine pop but there are others where they are as heavy as fuck. The inclusion of special guests Nova Twins and Amy Lee just adds to the atmosphere that this isn't a run-of-the-mill festival appearance for them.

Without compromising their newfound status as alternative rock superstars they manage to convincingly headline a heavy metal festival. By the time we get to ‘Can You Feel My Heart’ they have every occupant of the field (all the way up to the top of the hill) eating out of their hands. Revolutionary, radical, and in places monumentally heavy they have not only reclaim their crown but prove it is there for the taking any time they want it.