Heavy metal on ice and mosh-pits in hot tubs: What happened onboard 70,000 Tons Of Metal

In theory, 70,000 Tons Of Metal is easy to sum up: a fucking massive luxury cruise liner jam-packed with killer bands and metalheads from all over the world. Around the start of February each year it charts a course out and back from Miami, Florida to one of a revolving selection of Caribbean island paradises. It’s a music festival with bed and brekkie included in your ticket – and sunshine is guaranteed. Pretty sweet. The thing is, that business card synopsis doesn’t even scratch the surface of the surreal experience of actually being on board. A startling collision of worlds where the genteel pastel-coloured surrounds of the Independence Of The Seas are overrun by a black-clad barbarian horde, it’s an experience that needs to be lived to be understood. Thrillingly so.

One minute you’re stuffing your face alongside members of Sepultura and Tankard at the bottomless buffet. The next you’re being sprayed down with sunscreen by the patented Pool Boys & Girls like a car at the paint shop. Step onto the deck and lunatics are having circle-pits in hot tubs and passing out in sun loungers. Duck back inside and get lost (repeatedly) in the maze of other stuff on offer. Jump in a glass elevator with members of Finntroll, then stumble out of it and find Suffocation legend Terrance Hobbs holding court in the casino. Pull up a seat for a lesson in Estonian folklore with Metsatöll mainman Varulven. Get vinyl signed by Stratovarius. Take part in an epic metal bellyflop competition that pulls as many gawkers as any band. Unlimited soft-serve ice cream is available on tap. There are no all-inclusive alcohol packages, mind, which is fair enough, given the borderline dangerous beer and cocktail consumption that happens anyway.

Music is central, of course. Each of the 60-odd bands booked plays twice, with most delivering custom sets. The first performances each day are at breakfast time and the last wraps up around dawn. It’s a gleeful endurance test that challenges even the most hardened headbangers.

But even more important are the friends you make along the way. With a series of fringe events in Miami – including a spectacular Heavy Metal Beach Party – marking an extended lead-in, Vice City itself has become a pilgrimage site for the festival faithful, and newcomers are welcomed with open arms. Many ‘Survivors’ tell of how their first cruise was supposed to be a ‘once in a lifetime’ treat but now they wouldn’t think of missing the boat. Everyone from mega-passionate head honcho Andy Piller to the distinctly un-metal boat staff and – crucially – the bands themselves are fully bought-in. Since 70K’s maiden voyage in 2011, more than a few imitators have sprung up, but there’s no argument from anyone here about which one is best. With that in mind we grabbed our passport, packed a beach towel and pulled on our gnarliest Hawaiian shirt for the titanic trip of a lifetime…

The Independence Of The Seas sets off from Port Miami at a gargantuan crawl but Onslaught floor the throttle right from the get-go. Fast. Hard. Chaotic. Bodies skittled at a hilarious rate. Studio B doubles as an ice rink during ‘normal’ cruises and dudes are toppling as if staff hadn’t boarded over the frosty floor. The veteran British thrashers are celebrating 40 years of underrated debut Power From Hell this evening, and although fresh-faced current frontman Dave Garnett looks a little out of place celebrating that milestone – as well as sitting out the record’s multiple instrumentals altogether – he loads bangers like Thermonuclear Devastation full of all the burn they deserve.

“Twilight Force?” one punter rolls his eyes. “More like Twilight Farce…” Safe to say the Swedish LARPY bois aren’t favourites among the more painfully straight-faced of 70K’s fanbase, but their brand of symphonic theatrical cheese is exactly what those on a sillier wavelength want as they knock back the first few piña coladas of a long few days at sea. This first set is all about 2019's Dawn Of The Dragonstar and it's got all the unselfconscious magic fans of that record know and love. And if that’s not enough they've organised a Magic: The Gathering crossover event later on the cruise. Stop, guys, leave some Elven-Queens for the rest of us…

Most of the time on 70,000 Tons, the pedigree of the actual bands is somewhat of a secondary concern to the fact you're seeing them do their thing on huge stages lofted out on open water. Candlemass' awesome first set in the Royal Theater would send a chill down your spine anywhere. 40 years in, iconic bassist Leif Edling and his merry band of grey foxes peal through epic doom classics like In Solitude with the relaxed assuredness of old hands on holiday, enjoying themselves as much as the fans. An extra shout out to their sunbeaten Sunday Pool Deck set, which is the most magnificent mismatch between sound and scenery you could imagine. All together everyone in attendance: ‘Please let me fry in solitude…’

Striker are madcap, shred-heavy glam rock revivalists from Edmonton in Alberta, Canada. Which makes no sense because that city is far inland and their songs couldn't possibly be written by people without easy access to speedboats. And automatic weapons. And lots and lots and lots of fireworks. 70K's bonkers more-is-more scheduling means it's after 4:30am by the time they get properly up to speed, but songs like Best Of The Best Of The Best and Sucks To Suck deliver more of an energy uplift than 100 Jägerbombs. Not to say smashing them doesn't help, too.

Google the motivations behind Total Death's music and they're normal enough for death-doom stalwarts. Hate. Sadness. Desperation. Pain. You can add to that the tragically sparse crowd for their close-out over in the ice rink. Only about half of the handful who turn up are actually conscious, but those who still have a grip on their surroundings get a feast of harder-than-black-painted-balsawood brutality. Having come all the way from Ecuador, it's a shame that there isn't a legion of devotees ready and waiting, but when a song like Campo de Rosas unleashes its full bloodthirsty bite, there are always jaws on the floor.

"I'm worried about finding myself in a Marilyn Monroe situation in this wind," grins beefy Ex Deo (and Kataklysm) frontman Maurizio Iacono as the sea breeze plays havoc with his Roman pteruges (the soldier’s loincloth thingy) mid-set. The Canadian death metallers' historical schtick feels a little surplus to requirements, given their outrageously high power delivery is cranked to deafening volume to compensate for the wind. It’s a roar like the Colosseum baying for blood and the steely swing of I, Caligvla and Romulus ensures we are all Christians to the lions.

Ihsahn is all over 70K 2025. Mere hours after having delivered a mighty In The Nightside Eclipse setlist with Emperor on Thursday, and a couple of days before he turns up doing a cover of Iron Maiden's Wrathchild at the 'All Star Jam', Norway’s busiest experimentalist lays out a fascinating first solo set. Deeper, weirder and featuring more Norwegian language cuts than you might expect at a pool party, it is testament to his vision and uncompromising attitude. Unfortunately a loose connection somewhere in the PA delays kick-off and continually disrupts momentum, leaving a potentially awesome event feeling something of a missed opportunity.

70K had already announced all of the promised 60 bands before they chucked on Accept's legendary original frontman Udo Dirkschneider as the icing on the cake. He's most welcome, especially at Friday evening's no-holds-barred showcase, which seems to pull every one of the (many) Germans in attendance out for a sing-song through teutonic anthems Balls To The Wall and Fast As A Shark. It's not quite as tight as Accept's own sets from last summer, but with this catalogue of classics to draw from he could hardly fail.

There's an impressive crowd milling around at 3am for the debut show from outrageously talented new prog collective The Mourning. Not only is this the first time they've played together to a paying audience, it's the first time they've all met one another in the flesh. As epic, unruly compositions like The Wind and Smooth Seas unfurl you can feel the virtuoso guitars, bass, synths and vocals competing and overlapping in a way that's probably still to click into its final form. So compelling are the talents at play, however – the influence of giants like Rush and Tool, Opeth and Steven Wilson writ large – that it’s still one of the sets of the weekend.

Stumbling into Swiss industrial black metal demons Samael summoning all sorts of ancient evil in front of an array of hot tubs in the early hours is one of 70K's most devilish pleasures this year. Slip into some swim trunks. Soak your weary bones. Sell your soul for a run-through of 1996 classic Passage safe in the knowledge that a 30th birthday playthrough for Ceremony Of Opposites is still to follow later in the weekend. It is one of the most striking examples of the dark magic 70K is capable of conjuring in the small hours. Sure, only the most unhinged are still up and about in that deepest darkness, but the atmosphere is suffocating.

Day three of each 70K cruise sees the ship stop in port at that year’s designated destination, and 2025 is all about a return to Ocho Rios, Jamaica. Spilling off the boat at sunrise with the last of day two’s bands still echoing from the speakers ratchets up the sense of sheer strangeness again, but we love adventure and that’s in no short supply on the Jamrock. Once you’ve fought through the swarm of street sellers who attack the boat – more used to hawking their wares to wealthy pensioners than disastrously hungover metalheads – there is a fantastic sense of island cool about Bob Marley’s hometown. And once everyone has had their fill of green, black and yellow souvenir shopping (and, for those who partake, copious quantities of weed) it's off to smash endless cocktails and Red Stripes sitting on white sand as pelicans scoop fish from the sea.

The mighty Tankard keep the booze flowing as they welcome us back on the boat with what is legitimately one of the greatest-ever festival party sets. Time Warp. Beerbarians. A Girl Called Cerveza. Freibier. Die With A Beer In Your Hand. Nobody does tipsy thrash and sozzled shred any better, and this audience hurl themselves into every sing-along and opportunity to do something silly as even the ship’s horn seems to be honking its approval. Frontman Andreas 'Gerre' Geremia has arguably never been happier to be at the heart of the action. And that’s saying something.

Trouble frontman Kyle Thomas seems to be having the time of his life, soaking up the madness as well as delivering some of the boat’s biggest sets. Seemingly better known by many on board as the singer from the mighty Exhorder, he’s filled the space left by the irreplaceable Eric Wagner since 2013 and is at pains to stress when asked that this version of the band is about paying their respects. They do exactly that with a fantastic 40-year celebration of classic album The Skull in the ice rink on Saturday. And although songs like Pray For The Dead and Fear No Evil are never going to be 100 per cent without Eric’s singular, mesmeric delivery, it feels like a worthy celebration of one of metal’s unsung icons.

So stacked is this year’s 70K line-up that a few of the shredheads spilling into the Royal Theater seem shocked to have found out Symphony X are here. But the New Jersey prog-metal titans don’t take long reminding us why that is a very big deal. With guitarist Michael Romeo delivering some of the flashiest six-string pyrotechnics of the whole damn trip while towering vocalist Russell Allen stalks the stage like a nightmare alter-ego of Dream Theater’s James LaBrie, classic cuts like Set The World On Fire (The Lie Of Lies) and Paradise Lost are duly knocked out of the park.

Ihsahn is back on the pool deck again for Emperor’s second set of the weekend: a run-through of the black metal icons’ 1997 opus Anthems To The Welkin At Dusk. Having toured this show extensively in recent years, it doesn’t feel like quite the event it once would have, but the clear comparison at 70K between this open-air showcase and the eerier Royal Theater run-through of In The Nightside Eclipse on Thursday emphasises the contrasts and harmonies between the twin masterpieces. Where a song like Into The Infinity Of Thoughts inspired a creeping atmospheric unease, here Ye Entrancemperium and With Strength I Burn are allowed to fly spectacularly free, emphasising the possibilities in black metal that so few have exploited as compellingly as these old masters. An unforgettable moment under the hot dark Caribbean sky. Commiserations to the poor dude who puked in the party pit…

Swashbuckling power metal is peak 70,000 Tons, and Stratovarius deliver it in spades. A big crowd who’ve been boozing hard for most of the day already are beginning to flag a little as we tick past midnight, but they manage one last big push for Timo Kotipelto and the boys. From a blinding Visions (Southern Cross) to the scorching World On Fire and the wild Hunting High And Low, it’s a reminder why the great Finns are absolutely massive in Europe and that they simply do not disappoint on days like this. Kippis!

It’s properly time to batten down the hatches up top. Above and beyond their regular theatricality, there’s high drama for Delain’s Pool Deck appearance as high winds lead to substantial delays and threaten to literally blow the stage away. Vocalist Diana Leah seems to draw confidence and power from the ordeal, however, injecting even more of the force and passion we already know from songs like We Are The Others and The Gathering. The short storm blows itself away relatively quickly in the end, but it’s conjured a performance that will live long in this crowd’s memories.

Hate draw graveyard shift duty on the Pool Deck come the last hour of darkness, and they attack it with vicious aplomb. The Polish extremists are often overlooked in favour of the giants of that scene from their homeland, but with the aforementioned high winds still buffeting the boat, soul-savaging thumpers Erebos and Rugia are doled out with elemental power. True, soaking in a hot tub and sipping a fruity cocktail isn’t the best situation in which to sincerely connect with sounds as infernal as these – and a golden dawn has fully broken by the time they leave the stage at 6:20am – but their darkness will not be diminished.

“Thank you to all you crazy guys who got up early to catch a rock band that’s been going for 40 years already,” grins indefatigable Flotsam And Jetsam singer Eric A.K. Knutson as the Arizona legends step up to get Sunday started. “...and to the even crazier ones who just haven’t been to bed!” Fewer than four hours since Hate finished up, it looks like more of the latter than the former but the classic thrash stylings of Hammerhead, I Live You Die and Brace For Impact are just about right for those keeping the party rolling. Using Danny Elfman’s Batman theme as an intro tape on a morning this scorching is an odd choice, but everything else is as on target as it always has been.

Ice cubes aren’t even lasting the walk between the bar and the mosh-pit so hot is it by the time Suffocation arrive for their demolition, but they manage to crank the temperatures further still. The last-day banter is now in full flow, with a sex doll being bounced around like a beach ball, a dude dressed as a piñata toppling over folks heads, and a handful of reprobates dressed in cod-MAGA ‘Make America Drunk Again’ red, white and blue chanting ‘U-S-A! U-S-A!’ Even still, the most ridiculous thing to take in is quite how heavy the New York legends still manage to be. Not that they see it as any kind of laughing matter. From Seraphim Enslavement to Infecting The Crypts it is just unbridled carnage that leaves the uninitiated aghast.

“Okay,” grins livewire Super Monster Party frontman Rei Sega. “Now we’re gonna do something different…” It’s one of the understatements of the weekend as the video game-obsessed crew oversee an incredibly unhinged flash flood of colour and chaos. Based out of Miami, they're the closest thing to local favourites that 70K has on offer and a packed-in audience throw everything into seeing them steal the whole damn show. Punters chucking Mario Kart shells at each other across the room. Dozens of special outfits, from a black metal Pikachu to Ronald McDonald and Grimace. Some giant pink monster, possibly an obscure Pokémon, ‘laying its eggs’ in the middle of it all. There are circle-pits, conga lines, punters crowdsurfing in inflatables from the pool and more chaos than you can wave a controller at. And SMP have the songs to match, from bonkers bops like Dance Dance Revolution (Til The Death) to Blue Hurricance (a speed metal banger about Sonic The Hedgehog) and smashing closer This Is Doom!. The games have just begun.

The Pool Deck seems transformed as Hammerfall step up for the penultimate ‘main stage’ show of the weekend. People are everywhere, hanging off balconies and craning decks for a view. Beers are being hammered like there’s no tomorrow. The atmosphere is crackling. And the Gothenburg power metal legends deliver the best imaginable performance to keep things boiling over: great buckets of melted cheese like Hammer High and Last Man Standing that get you singing yourself hoarse and pumping your fist like some kind of broken toy. From production (including the trademark hammer guitar) to sound, they proudly straddle the line between ridiculous and sublime, and in voicebox-busting closer Hearts On Fire they have probably the finest moment of the festival.

Completely switching up the tone, Finnish death-doom collective Swallow The Sun have turned up with a six-strong group of dancers from Ballet Finland, layering another layer of conceptual intrigue to their already-dense 2008 EP Plague Of Butterflies. Written more like a traditional ballet or opera than any regular set of songs anyway, it’s intriguing to see such a bold, conventionally non-metal presentation. However, in the midst of the last-night festivities it does come across a little too serious and perhaps even a touch drab. But such experiments should be encouraged in future. Just imagine Gojira alongside Cirque du Soleil or Iron Maiden with a fleet of Morris Dancers...

With a show branded as their ‘Farewell At Sea’ there’s no better band on whom to close out 70,000 Tons than the always-monstrous Sepultura. Their long goodbye has begun to draw out at this point – and the awesome energy of youthful drummer Greyson Nekrutman begs the question why on earth they wouldn’t try writing at least one more album – but it’s impossible not to feel the twinge of emotion knowing the days are numbered for songs as important as Ratamahatta or or as bludgeoningly iconic as Roots Bloody Roots. There’s little bittersweetness here, though, as hulking vocalist Derrick Greene has to stop himself from cracking up at some of the more outlandish examples of fancy dress, while Paulo Jr and Andreas Kisser are visibly relishing the fact their career is still throwing up fresh challenges and opportunities as outlandish as these. There’s probably not been as much violence on a boat down here since the height of piracy, but as always with the great Brazilians, the parting feeling is one of brotherhood and cleansing catharsis.

Almost immediately, it seems, the outdoor stage is being disassembled, the cleaning crews are out in force and we’re pulling back into Miami to hand the ship back to its more conventional clientele. But no-one is going easy into the good night, as metal karaoke is sung on until dawn, canapés are devoured and promises are exchanged that new friendships around the world will be kept up until the next time we can get together back onboard. Ultimately, that’s the really beautiful thing about this crazy voyage – one that’s about so much more than watching bands on a ship.

70,000 Tons Of Metal returns in 2026.

Read this next:

• 11 bands who wouldn’t be here without Sepultura
• Ihsahn: “A black metal artist allowing someone to tell them what to do? Nobody wants that…”
  
• Delain: “I am so grateful that our fans gave us another chance”