The Black Procession Tour – Newcastle Academy 2, 26th February 2010

A lack of hair, more than compensated for by a collection of circle pits…

It was a cold, rainy night in February. I was waiting, coatless, outside an Academy. And yet I WASN’T seeing Lamb of God. Say what?

Instead, The Black Procession tour, which has been weaving its way up and down the country for the last week or so, comprising some big, fat, no-nonsense metal for all to partake of. Well, alright then, I suppose I’ll give it a go.

First on the bill, Glaswegian deathcore crew Man Must Die, the replacement band for All Shall Perish who had unfortunately pulled out of the tour some time ago. They were worth turning up early for, despite their repeated insistence on demanding a ‘circle pit’ which, in a Scottish accent, just made me think of Lorraine Kelly trying to organise a knitting club on GMTV. The pit that stuttered into existence was quite appropriate then, featuring about three 15-year-olds tripping over each other and a big bald bloke who eventually cleared the space for a spot of Greco-roman wrestling. I shit you not. From a musical standpoint, closing track ‘Kill It, Skin It, Wear It’ is quite catchy really and I think these chaps are more than capable of holding their own at this level.

Next up were Bleeding Through. The crowd had swelled by this point and they definitely created some atmosphere. Those of you who know me, or have ever read my blog, know that I’m really only comfortable with a metal band when they’re good and hairy. In fact, my enjoyment of a band is probably directly correlated with their relative hairiness. Your hairs are your aerials, after all. It came as no surprise, then, that I really didn’t connect with this band, as they seemed to be suffering from a nasty strain of collective baldness, well, aside from keyboard player Maria Peterson, allegedly one of the hottest (read: only) women in metal, yet clearly not really essential to the musical proceedings, other than to lend some impressive round-the-clock headbanging with the only hair on the stage.

I also feel it is my duty to point out that the ‘circle’ pit they created was not geometrically sound at all; it was more of an elliptical shape, really. Most irregular. It was large, though. It struck me at that moment, that circle pits really must be the most masculine way for a large group of blokes to skip around in a circular formation together.

To be fair to Bleeding Through, they certainly got people going, but I found the music generic and they did little to impress me in all honesty.

Hatebreed on the other hand, are severely follicly challenged, but they seem to be the exception that proves the rule (whatever that actually means). They whip the crowd up a notch immediately, everyone shouting along with their catchy brand of metallic hardcore (I refuse to call it metalcore as I don’t think it actually IS, really). They tear through songs from a variety of albums, have some good banter with the crowd despite verging on overly cheesy Americanisms at times (‘who has more heart than you? No-one!’) and are thoroughly entertaining, particularly as I can’t shake the feeling of lead singer Jamey Jasta reminding me of Fred Durst, which lends things a slight comedy over-tone, for me at least.

It’s clear from Machine Head’s soundcheck that the warnings I’ve had from previous attendees on this tour are going to be borne out here tonight too – it’s going to be LOUD. Thankfully I’ve brought along some earplugs and they are rammed into my ears by the time the headline act take the stage, yet it still sounds like a regular gig to me – I think this means, it’s LOUD. My vibrating sternum was testament to this, in the absence of aching eardrums.

As promised, the band give us a sort of ‘greatest hits’ set, inasmuch as they pick highlights from each of their six studio albums, as well as debuting old tracks – ‘Spine’ from The More Things Change gets its first airing EVER in the UK, and ‘Blood For Blood’ from Burn My Eyes its first in 8 years. This pleases me as I’m an old-school Machine Head fan, and hearing six tracks in total from across their first two albums is pretty good going. Also, they are three-quarters hairy, which makes me feel at home again. Highlights for me include ‘Old’ and ‘Bulldozer’ as well as the rare tracks, and of course the crushing crescendo of final song ‘Davidian’, which never fails to grab every metal fan in the room by the throat and squeeze.

Gig over, I was smugly aware that I was probably the only person in the place that had retained some form of hearing. For my first gig since the Lamb of God tour, it was a good one. It kicked the crusty Wrath-infested cobwebs away and reminded me that life goes on – there are many more gigs to be had, many more bands to bang my head to. Although I have to say it did feel strange not hearing ‘Richmond motherfucking Virginia’ at the beginning or ‘last chance to dance’ at the end (Robb Flynn almost said it… but not quite). I did sort of feel like I was being unfaithful. But Lamb of God can rest easy. I may have been with Machine Head… but I was thinking of them the whole time.

Lamb of God Wrath 2010 Tour - The Review

When I first considered the notion of following a band around the UK for a full headline tour, it seemed a bit absurd. It would clearly be tiring, expensive and a physical and mental challenge – was it really worth the bother? Having made a good stab at it with Tool back in 2006 I knew that seeing one of your favourite bands live, repeatedly, was ample reward for the output of effort. But this was five dates in five days, covering large distances and the threat of suffering whiplash and liver failure on a daily basis – was I man enough?! I clearly couldn’t do it alone, and was egged on every step of the way by the Norwegian Congregation members who inspired me the take this tour on in the first place, Ilona and Tone, and by my newly-acquired fellow Lamb of God-loving buddy, Dan. Without them, I wouldn’t be where I am today, literally in some cases! More on them later!

I never know where to start in these situations, and even when I’m about to post on one of the most amazing weeks of my life the problem doesn’t go away – in fact it’s worse, as there is just so much to say. But at least it’s possible to give it SOME structure, so to follow the advice of Julie Andrews (and which self-respecting metaller wouldn’t?) – let’s start at the very beginning.

DAY ONE – Tuesday 9th February

An agonising morning at work (why oh why didn’t I just take the whole day off?!) preceded the walk to Central Station in Newcastle, where my week of Pure American Metal™ was about to begin. A fairly relaxing train journey later I met up with Claire Allatt who would be joining our merry band of metallers for the first leg of the tour. After checking into our porta-hotel (Etap, Birmingham) we rocked up at Scruffy’s for a well-deserved pint and to rendevous with the LOG crew (poetry corner alert). The Norwegians greeted me with a thunderous Lamb of God chant and it became clear they were as crazy as their 17-date European tour suggested. Dan took about five minutes to nickname me ‘Mum’ due my superior age (and intelligence, of course!) and it was clear we were all going to have a week to remember.

We had a couple of pints, wondered what the hell we were letting ourselves in for, and made our way to the O2 Academy, where we arrived just in time to catch the last song of first support act, Between The Buried And Me. I say the last song, although it was a 10 minute piece, but it turned out to be the only song they played that night – it’s a mystery as to what went wrong but it must have been very disappointing for fans of the band, who found themselves attending a somewhat different show to that which they might otherwise have wanted.

As I have seen most of the bands five times this week I’ll only review them once – BTBAM will come later. August Burns Red made a good first impression on me – energetic, tight and punchy, they went down really well with the Brummie crowd and really livened up proceedings.

Not in any rush to drag myself away from conversation with the most excellent Manu Patel, I only caught the back end of Job For A Cowboy – I have to confess to not having been a huge fan of this band before the start of the tour, and I wasn’t blown away by them on my first viewing, although being so far away from the action could have had something to do with it.

Dan, Claire and I made a joint decision to remain watching from the balcony for Lamb of God; it seemed logical to experience as many different viewpoints as possible in our five days, and having a full view of the stage made a nice change, seeing the full kit, backdrop and band! The guys made an explosive start to the tour, the setlist featuring much of latest album ‘Wrath’ as well as some older favourites and classic tracks. Personal highlights were the spine-chilling guitar duet preceding ‘Grace’, and ‘Reclamation’ which sounded just devastatingly good and had me punching Dan in the arm with excitement that it had made it onto the setlist – what a tune. The self-proclaimed (and Randy-proclaimed!) 'home of heavy metal' had surely proved its worth tonight.

As it goes, it appeared that we’d all forgotten it was still the middle of the most blisteringly cold winter since records began or what have you, so we all went back to the hotel, donned extra layers and headed back out to hang by the buses. Chatted to some fellow fans and tried desperately not to freeze solid whilst waiting to say hi to the guys. We got to have a quick chat with Mark Morton and Chris Adler and take a couple of photos which was pretty sweet, Randy Blythe was in the pub already apparently and the others had managed to get by us somehow so we went to the nearest kebab shop and satisfied our hunger with kebab meat, the most metal fork in the world and a really big knob. A good start to the tour? I'll say.

DAY TWO – Wednesday 10th February

Managed a spot of breakfast in the glorious Pallasades shopping centre (one of the true jewels in Birmingham’s crown – how I miss it!) before literally throwing a bottle of Diet Coke down the stairs at New Street station, jumping over it as it exploded and leaving it behind me as I rushed off to catch my train back to Newcastle. I am so rock and roll.

It was kind of strange coming home in the middle of the tour but it was good to experience some home comforts before heading out for show number 2, via Geordie metallers’ mainstay Trillians for an obligatory pre-gig pint (read: pints) with the other half.

The Academy in Newcastle was the smallest venue we would visit all week and the most relaxed – it’s not sold out and although lively, we’re still able to watch from near the front. We’re there from the beginning this time, and catch a full Between the Buried and Me set, which although still only amounting to around 25 minutes, is better than yesterday. They are just as impressive as expected – mind-pulverisingly technical grindcore fusing beautifully with spacey jazz-infused melodic sections; this band really are ones to watch, and despite their odd billing on a tour primarily composed of more mainstream metal bands, they impress each night without fail, and make a small army of followers very happy indeed.

Lamb of God are on point tonight, the sound very good with the vocals higher in the mix than they sometimes tend to be, which is a very good thing. The crowd may be smaller than the average on this tour but they are perfectly formed (if I do say so myself) and it’s a night of slightly (read: very) tipsy head-banging goodness and an all round thumbs up. Staggered home (well, got a cab because we’re lazy) and enjoyed the luxury of getting out the Breville and having a stupidly cheesy sausage and cheese toastie made for me – and that’s where the home comforts ended!

DAY THREE – Thursday 11th February

Despite being two gigs down and three to go, the travelling part of the tour felt as though it properly kicked off for me when Dan’s Lambrover™ arrived to pick me up at around 11:00am Thursday morning. Finally I was travelling with my partners in crime, and we were all in high spirits as we set off for Glasgow. It’s a pleasant road-trip from the North-East to Scotland and was made even better by the copious amounts of metal, Pringles, Jaffa Cakes and general hilarity that ensued. I explained to our Norwegian friends the concept of fried Mars Bars, and why the Scottish and English don’t get on, we saw a massive cock on a hill (really!) and arrived in Glasgow in good time, navigating the city centre with aplomb despite the seeming desire of all buses to crush us on our way. The Lambrover had now become the special bus – Scotland was not going to know what had hit it! Our accommodation was the Euro Hostel which wasn’t too bad really, and we started our evening activity in the hostel bar with another well-deserved pint.

I met up with John Todd and some other Scottish boardies who proceeded to encourage me to drink rather more cider than I had originally anticipated, and rock up at the gig too late to see BTBAM. Watched ABR from the back and found them just as entertaining as on previous days, especially whilst slightly drunk and standing on the Barrowlands’ bouncy floor.

Then was my time. Following a combination of peer pressure and morbid curiosity I had made the decision to do something that I’ve literally never done before – watch a metal gig from the barrier (Swallow the Sun didn’t count – there were only about 30 people watching!). I made my way to the front with surprising ease and practised my photography skills on Job For A Cowboy, who I have to say by that point had started to grow on me. It did help that they were rather easy on the, er, camera lens. It got intense after that and the camera was laid to rest (see what I did there) for the impending arrival of our protagonists.

And what an arrival. Glasgow just tips the other shows as my personal favourite gig of the week – purely because of my proximity to the action, eyeball to eyeball with the Virginian metal gods and able even to share a few words with them at the end of the show, and have a very sweet Glaswegian security fellow retrieve a pick for me that fell short, as well as a setlist for Dan. Nice. As far as the gig itself goes, it’s clear that Randy Blythe enjoys Scotland, he was enthusiastically bigging up the Scottish, he executed his one and only stage-dive of the week and foolishly (to my horror) advised everyone to ‘go off like you’re at a Celtic Rangers game’. Oh god. Somehow, my ribcage came through relatively unscathed. It was a top gig despite Willie’s speaker cutting out during the last couple of songs – he tried beating it with his fists to fix it but strangely this clearly tried and tested reparatory method didn’t work this time – I wonder why?

I went a bit mental after that, possibly due to the dehydration and the large volumes of other people’s sweat that I had absorbed through every pore, and after getting out I realised that Jagermeister was really the only answer to the as yet un-asked question, and so we walked to the Cathouse in Glasgow, accompanied by a rousing rendition of ‘Bob the Builder’ in Norwegian. Which surprisingly, keeps popping into my head even now. Had a good night in the Cathouse dancing like a loon to various metal classics and fondling the chain mail wall hangings.

DAY FOUR – Friday 12th February

The morning in Glasgow was shared between Subway and Boots (breakfast subs, eyeliner and ear plugs all being tour essentials, of course!). The trip to the latter establishment included one of the worst ever suggested possible chat-up lines for a person to use on a metal singer, and the less said about that the better. We took to the Lambrover for the long haul to Manchester, and endured a long and fairly quiet road trip (although that was mainly due to us all being temporarily deaf) before hitting a run of bad karma which included getting lost repeatedly in Manchester City Centre, both in the car and on foot, finding out that our hostel was an absolute hellhole, and me forgetting my ticket halfway to the venue. The mood was low, probably just due to tiredness and aching bodies, and we needed a pick-me-up for sure.

We put the stress behind us with a chill and a beer outside the academy (making up for lost time due to my error by hailing a cab – which turned out to be a very good plan indeed!) It occurred to us that it might have been somewhat ignorant for us not to at least learn the names of the members of Job For A Cowboy, as we seemed to be bumping into them every five minutes, and providing them with smoking paraphernalia, but it slipped my mind. I really will do better next time. Had a brief chat to Mr Morton which was nice and chatted to some of the other fans waiting outside. It was feeling quite normal by this point to be doing what we were doing, ie the full tour, perhaps even a bit soft, in consideration of what the Norwegians were doing, but the more people we told, the more it seemed that actually, it was quite a feat – people were impressed, jealous, or just thought we were crazy, but in all our travels we didn’t encounter anyone else doing anything even remotely similar, so perhaps we weren’t so normal after all?

After a miscalculation in door times resulting in a long wait in the cold (what was new!) I managed to get on the barrier for the second night in a row, although it was surprisingly bloody cold up there and extremely crushed, and I bailed out during LOG’s third song – two days in a row is just too painful, and I’m not an elastic-boned teen anymore. I drank a pint and a half of liquid in about 30 seconds and enjoyed the rest of the show from the relative calm of the bar.

Post-show, we talked to Campbell who berated us for not getting to soundcheck that day – apparently there was a failure to communicate the night before, oops! We re-arranged for tomorrow in London – nice. Chatted some more to Chris who informed us we had been the subject of some discussion between the band – they were considering changing up the setlist for us! I asked if they did requests. To my surprise he said sure, what did I want to hear? I was thrilled to find out that my actual request (Descending) had been played in rehearsal that day for possible inclusion in tomorrow’s setlist – double nice. We were about to head back to the hostel when super-dude sound dude Spud (no, I didn’t think that one through before typing it) invited us along to a bar they were going to – triple nice.

Big Hands bar on Oxford Road is so very cool in a laid-back, retro-cum-hip-hop chic way that I actually had to remind myself out loud a couple of times that I was still in Manchester and not in Soho. I can’t actually decide whether it went up or down in the cool stakes when 20 minutes or so after we arrived, there was a mass influx of American band and crew members, although the place literally lifted off its feet. And got about 30 decibels louder when Randy Blythe walked through the door.

It was amusing as hell watching these guys let their hair down and the night that followed was pretty damn sweet. Notable highlights included chatting to Spud who was an absolutely sound guy (see what I did there. Oh, somebody please, stop me), chatting to Chris about his admirable devotion to his wife (don’t forget kids – it’s not cheating unless you’re Tweeting!), as well as discussing beer, hotels and crane-driving, watching Randy Blythe sitting in a kebab shop talking to some kids before heading back to the bus devouring some unidentifiable food as aggressively as if it were still alive, watching Willie Adler getting his groove on to some hip-hop before walking straight into a sandwich board and knocking it over on his way out of the pub, and generally just gaining a little insight into what metal bands actually do when they’re out on the town in another country. They hang out and have a beer, apparently. Who'd have thunk it.

DAY FIVE – Saturday 13th February

The final day of the tour loomed large, but we still had plenty to look forward to. After a brief and disturbing sleep in which I dreamt so realistically I woke up not sure what was real and what wasn’t, Dan and I set off down south in the Lambrover, sans Norwegians as they were travelling by train that day due to their hotel being in a considerably different area to ours.

The bad karma of yesterday’s journey was gone and we made great time despite the bloody 50mph speed restrictions (the M6 toll road actually gained us some time despite costing us money). We had a pit-stop at Dan’s country pad before catching a train into London where we had a mad dash from King’s Cross to our hotel and back again, and then to Brixton, where miraculously we arrived early enough to purchase a couple of beverages and have a giggle by the bus. It was a journey of about 6 legs and we managed it in just over 6 hours – go us!

After a chilly wait on what had to be number 1 of the top 5 coldest roads in Britain (yes folks, we’ve experienced them all this week!), we saw a familiar face. Campbell came over and said hi, checked we weren’t weirdos and hadn’t stabbed anybody and then invited us onto the bus, which was most hospitable of him, particularly as he offered us a beer. He couldn’t find his smokables which was a disappointment, but the short time we were there enabled us to view the rather plush surroundings that metal superstars are accustomed to these days – well, plush for a bus, anyway! It was warm, with comfy leather seats and mirrored walls and ceiling. My arse hadn’t felt anything nicer all week. It was also tidy and didn’t smell, both of which came as something of a shock to me.

Norwegians finally in tow, the lovely Spud took us inside the venue for the soundcheck. Stage -left by the sound desk, we were face-meltingly warm and had a view all the waiting faithful on the street outside would envy – the four musicians from Lamb of God rehearsing for that evening’s set! They played four songs which was more than we could have hoped for, including Descending and Vigil as promised (although we later found out they wouldn’t be putting them into the set after all – but at least we had heard them!) It was a shame that Randy’s reluctance to do soundchecks meant we had to provide vocals ourselves, but I can’t say we minded much as it goes. Rehearsal over, the guys all came over to say hello which was damn cool of them, they were probably just wondering when we would go away, but the way I see it, being recognised by your favourite band as a stalker still counts as being recognised! We even got the chance to have a proper chat with Willie outside the venue which was cool and I even managed to restrain myself and not squeeze him, which I’d been dying to do all week, I should have done it really – might not get another chance!

The pub then occurred – another leather sofa actually, and although not quite as comfortable, I still managed to sink into it and relax for a while. It was starting to hit home that we were coming to the end, felt a bit subdued so went to find some fast food and another beer.

Brixton Academy itself was packed, but we had taken the decision to stand well back and take it all in – and it was a good decision. Not that it helped much – being crushed in the pit or on the barrier might have stopped me from shedding a rather emo tear as ‘The Passing’ started up, I’m not ashamed, it had been a long and memorable week, and I snapped out of it once ‘In Your Words’ kicked in. Was just the right amount of pissed to bang my head and groove like a crazy mofo for the entirety of the gig, and it was probably the best of the week in terms of sound and lighting so it was good to be able to enjoy those from the comfort of a relatively remote position in the crowd. I got some great photos including what turned out to be a fairly lucky shot of the actual last moment of the tour – just that realisation put the lump right back in my throat, soppy mare.

We decided that we had said our goodbyes earlier and that any further stalking might result in a restraining order so we headed to Tottenham Court Road to sample the finest alternative establishments it had to offer, namely Intrepid Fox and Cro Bar, the latter of which was so crammed at the front I ended up sandwiched against the wall by MetalHammer editor Phil Alexander, who heard the tale of our adventure from Dan and seemed quite impressed! Then a wander back to out hotel via one of the most excellent (duuude) busking guitarists I’ve ever seen. We sat outside the hotel for a moment of reflection before rudely awakening the member of staff on Reception to ask him to allow us into the hotel, where I crashed for the final time.

EpiLOG

And so there it was. What had initially seemed like a whimsical way to spend a few days, had turned out to be one of the most memorable weeks of my life, and certainly my best ever experience with a band – such genuine, down to earth guys – I would be honoured to drink with them again, and hopefully in the not too distant future. On Sunday morning I discovered muscles in my neck that definitely weren’t there before, and reality hit home hard on Monday when I checked the damage to my bank balance and returned to the daily grind, but the memories will live on for a long time, and for the metallest week in my existence, I would like to thank the following people:

Dan – for being my ultimate tour buddy, with me from start to finish, one helluva cool dude and of course, son!
Ilona and Tone – for being great fun, getting me excited and making me realise the pure awesomeness of being on the barrier!
My other half – for tolerating this crazy notion, for getting me pissed in Newcastle, for his toastie-making skills and for making me giggle on Friday night
Spud – for being good company and an all-round cool dude, and hooking us up!
Lamb of God – for inspiring me to make this crazy trip, for bringing the metal on point five nights in a row, for being genuinely nice, humble guys and appreciating us as fans, and for laughs and good company on a few occasions. (And for not reporting us to the police for harassment at any point).
Claire – for keeping me company in the Rent-a-Hotel and getting down with us in Birmingham
John (DLF) – for being a fine host and showing us a great night out in Glasgow
Glasgow Security guy – for keeping an eye on me and sorting us out with a pick and setlist!
Howard Winchester Hotel, Kings Cross – for reminding us that everywhere isn’t as bad as Hatters Hostel in Manchester

Wrath Maths!! For those of you who were wondering, the numbers that matter….

Miles travelled – Almost 1,300 (600-ish in the Lambrover, 680 on the train)
Lamb of God gigs attended – 5
Crazy Norwegians – 2
Ciders consumed – 28
Bruised ribs – numerous
Crocked backs – 1
Pounds in weight lost –2
Items of clothing containing other men’s sweat – at least 14
Frost-bitten hands – 2
Metal magazine editors impressed – 1
What the hell’s going on here?! – 183

Gan Geordie – daily
Money spent – Could have been worse…!
Job For A Cowboy members names known – 0
Guaran-fucking-teed – 42
Mops fetched – numerous
Inane grins - infinity
Awesomeness factor out of 10 – 11
Exaggeration factor – 100 billion %

There are many more photos from the trip, if you want to check them out, here are the links...

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=392210&id=670500433&l=2495f9370d

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=392907&id=670500433&l=c08a251c84

Sonisphere, Barcelona - 11/07/09

It was an overcast but humid afternoon in the Catalan region of Spain. The other half and I arrived at El Parc del Forum, south-west of Barcelona city centre at around 14:00, still a full hour before doors opened. It was our first experience of a European festival and the late start time came as a welcome relief having enjoyed one two many cervezas in the Rock and Rolla bar on Escudellers the previous night. Presumably due to the midday heat, the late start would meant a typically continental but distinctly un-British finishing time of 2:00am. Rock and roll!

Following successful dates in Holland and Germany, Barcelona was to be the third leg of the new touring rock festival Sonisphere which will culminate in August with a two-day stint at Knebworth, UK. We had a long day ahead of us but collected our tickets and proceeded to mill about with the metal-hungry Spaniards outside the grotesque urban sprawl that is the Forum. The £90 million building itself looks like the navy blue lovechild of something pointy and the 1980s, and caused much controversy when it was opened in 2004. The festival was set in grounds of the Forum building, by the harbour, and my first experience of an outdoor gig taking place entirely on concrete. I felt somewhat relieved my crowd-surfing days were over as the thought of crashing onto that floor was somewhat disconcerting, and continued to show my age by worrying about whether I might get a bit of a sore bottom.

The first band of the day were local metalcore outfit The Eyes, down on the second stage, which with its stone terracing one side and grassy bank on the other created a miniature bowl effect which made for an impressive sound. The Eyes got the day off to a flying start with their energy and enthusiasm, and had a dynamic sound despite noticeable timing and tuning issues. They obviously revelled in such a large home crowd, and apart from the frontman who pulled an exceptional selection of rockstar poses, the band came across a bit like excitable puppies. I can't blame them to be honest considering the company they were keeping. Definitely one to watch for the future.

Due to the already infamous Machine Head cancellation cock-up (more on that later) and queuing for Sonisphere money (that too!), we sadly missed Gojira’s first song, but pelted back down to the second stage to catch the rest of the French eco-metallers’ set (term manufactured for want of a better genre!). They blew the Spanish crowd out of the water with an assured performance, of which ‘Flying Whales’ was the highlight, along with ‘Backbone’, which lead singer and guitarist Joe Duplantier dedicated to Lamb of God frontman Randy Blythe. It was an unexpected bonus when Blythe burst onto the stage and joined them for the second half of the song, lending his explosive vocals and boundless energy to an already top notch tune. Blythe retreated to the side of the stage after embracing Duplantier and from that point onwards, watching him air-drumming and enthusing over Gojira’s performance was almost as entertaining as watching the band themselves.

Another homegrown band, Soziedad Alkoholika, were the first band to take to the mainstage, but we opted for some lunch instead, the hardcore punk on offer not really our cup of sangria. Instead we spent 8 Sonisphere Euros apiece on two buckets of Estrella Damm and took our precious nectar to a comfortable spot on the terraces to wait for Mastodon.

Shoot me down in flames if you will, but anyone who knows me knows my opinion of Mastodon, and can probably predict how this next review is going to go. Having seen them support Tool four times in 2006 my mind was made up about this band some time ago; they are a total marmite band for me and try as I might, I haven’t been able to get over my dislike of them, their strange pseudo-prog sound or their occasionally asinine offstage behaviour. However in my defence, and in the spirit of giving second chances, I had a listen to a couple of tracks from the band’s 2009 release ‘Crack The Skye’ on their Myspace page, after I was told it was a step in a different direction for the band, and I have to say that I almost… enjoyed the songs I checked out. Perhaps I would be pleasantly surprised.

Buoyed by my new-found ambivalence, I waited with an open mind for what I hoped would be a step in the right direction live, also. Sadly I was to be disappointed. The new material which showed promise online did not come across well live at all. The vocals sounded strained and far too Ozzy-influenced. The second track they played harked back to their failure to impress me three years ago and my other half, not blessed with the patience of angels like myself, dragged me away after that.

I can’t say I was that upset about this, especially when we discovered what else was on offer. A small crowd were gathered in an opening and eager to see what the fuss was all about, we went for a gander. The video I took speaks for itself.

*video to come!

Blaas of Glory, from the Netherlands there, showing that there really is a satisfactory alternative to Mastodon.

The middle order bands were the real meat in the metal sandwich and next up were my pet band of 2009, Lamb of God. The were the first band I saw on the mainstage and as it turned out, it was a day of firsts – Lamb of God’s first ever show in Spain, nonetheless! The crowd were primed and ready, and I had no complaints as they tore through a ‘greatest hits’ style set, other than that it wasn’t long enough. But if they played their entire back catalogue uninterrupted, that still wouldn’t be long enough for me. Even if it contained an acoustic set, some barbershop quartet work and an exclusive rendition of their little-known covers album ‘LOG do Dolly Parton.’ Okay, I’m exaggerating. They’d never do an acoustic set.

But anyway, I digress (‘I must beware of riding off on my pet steed Tangent’, as Richard Dawkins said in ‘The God Delusion’ much to my amusement). Lamb of God are top quality live performers and never let the crowd down, just as the crowd never let them down. This was confirmed for me as around halfway through their set, a dazed-looking boy emerged from the moshpit to promptly vomit right in front of where we were standing, narrowly missing my feet. The decision to wear trainers instead of sandals was looking like an increasingly sensible one. This was reinforced again when to my astonishment, I almost participated (involuntarily, of course) in the traditional ‘wall of death’ during final song ‘Black Label’. Luckily I managed to stand my ground while hundreds of teenage boys in Metallica t-shirts hurled themselves at each other around me. I am a rock. And NOT because I’m old and boring. No, really.

At the end of LOG’s set, Randy Blythe urged everyone to ‘go see Down on the other stage’ which funnily enough struck me as a jolly good suggestion, so we joined the mass exodus from main to second stage and managed to find ourselves a decent spot just as Down wandered on in their own characteristically aimless way. The set that followed was one of my highlights of the day, the excellent sound quality doing their chunky, groovy sound plenty of justice and the second litro cerveza sitting comfortably in my belly whilst I danced like a loon. Phil Anselmo was in quite a chatty mood although he seemed concerned that the non English-speaking crowd might miss his point. Don’t worry Phil, we all think Down rock.

The set closed with the southern contingent of the bill lending members to replace the four Down musicians to create one mighty jam-filled love-in of a Down doughnut, with Mark Morton of Lamb of God taking Kirk Weinstein’s guitar, and three members of Mastodon taking over the remaining musical duties. Aside from Brent Hinds’ excessive widdling (they just can’t help annoying me, can they), it was another great moment in what was shaping up to be one of the finest days in metal history! (Ah hyperbole, how I love thee. Let me count the ways. There must be at least a billion).

Due to the stage reshuffle after the Knebworth/Limp Bizkit fiasco, Machine Head were now on the mainstage. I was understandably a bit grumpy with them due to all the problems surrounding their cancellation of the UK Sonisphere and the subsequent backlash, and prepared to be distinctly underwhelmed, as I had been earlier in the year at their support of Metallica’s arena tour. However, unlike Mastodon who failed to wow me despite my optimism, Machine Head banished my festering cynicism by quite simply kicking major buttocks. They were the loudest band of the day and the extended set length allowed them to showcase such classic tracks as ‘Old’ and ‘Bulldozer’ which were a wonderful surprise. We watched from a distance due to tired feet and hunger but I have to say, Machine Head really impressed me, so kudos to them.

Live by the mask, die by the mask is a phrase that readily springs to mind when it comes to Slipknot. Once you’ve seen them a couple of times and the gimmick has lost its novelty you start to realise that they don’t have the most gripping music to back it all up. Yes they rock hard, live, and are always a spectacle, but the songs, the newer ones in particular, just don’t sustain my interest anymore. Yes, the gimmick works for them – having 9 members (only 8 today admittedly, due to a death in the family of percussionist Chris Fehn) wearing masks, bashing oil drums, rotating drum risers – it’s compelling viewing and it will keep the kids entertained for as long as the band wish to keep the circus rolling. It’s just not my bag anymore.

And so to the headline act. The legendary wait for Metallica’s arrival is not what it used to be. I’ve only just left the bar when they take the stage, just 15 minutes behind schedule, and tear into ‘Fight Fire With Fire’ at breakneck speed. The pace doesn’t slow until the opening bars of ‘Fade To Black’, four songs later. I have to say, having seen Metallica eight times already, it never fails to pull the rug from under me when they manage, yet again, to surprise me. I had been avoiding looking at setlists for the summer stint of their tour and ‘Fade To Black’ just crept right up on me, tapped me on the shoulder and metaphorically, pulled my emotional pants down. I won’t lie to you, my eyes became slightly moist, must have been the dust or something. I never thought I would see them play that song live, and it was very special, I have to say. Okay, end girly moment.

In fact, Metallica played at least four songs that I had never heard them play live before and that’s really something considering my track record with the band (I say 'at least' because I feel it might have been 5 or even 6 but minus the setlists from the early days of seeing them, I can’t be 100% sure). I went away a very satisfied Metalli-fan, once again.

The day drew to a close at a curfew-demolishing 2:15am (you’ve got to love continental festivals) and we forced our weary feet the 40 minute walk back to our hotel where we stuffed some paprika Pringles in our faces before crashing out in a most comfortable bed. Sometimes, just sometimes, it really does beat a tent in a damp British field.