The Mud! The Sweat! The Beers! Papa Roach, Machine Head, Gojira and Guns N’ Roses lead the charge at a wet and wild edition of Europe’s biggest heavy metal party...
As slogans go, Wacken Open Air’s ‘Rain or shine!’ can seem a little odd – until you run into a year like 2025. The weather makes a difference wherever you are, but four days of downpours in the rich green fields of Schleswig-Holstein can literally change the face of the festival. And with over 110,000 people here, there are plenty of feet to plough it up.
“I guess it’s going to be a wet one,” organiser Thomas Jensen grins wryly to co-founder Holger Hübner as the skies open during this year’s infield opening ceremony. A wet one is unequivocally what we get.
Ruggedness in the face of the elements is metal as fuck, however, so it’s more a change of flavour than a total washout. With everything from the world-class metal market, an actual farmer's market, complete with multiple cheese counters, to the metal swimming pool and an acoustic stage in the local church spread across a sprawling, near-400-hectare site, getting bogged down isn’t ideal. But exploration is always worth it. There’s even a Space Camp this year, with actual astronauts and exhibits courtesy of the European Space Agency. And if you don’t come to them, the Mad Max-alike Wasteland Warriors might just come to you.
Beyond that is the sense of community, which is only tightened when the clouds burst. From helping push/tow each other around the car park, to offering shelter and mysterious warming beverages, it is the kind of international co-operation and camaraderie the United Nations could only dream of. It extends to the highest reaches of the organisation, too, with Thomas and Holger actively roaming or cycling around the site all weekend, making improvements on the fly, and an army of food and drink vendors – from burger vans to currywurst, beer to fishbowl cocktails – that would put most other metal gatherings to shame. It really is an event unlike any other on earth.
With that in mind, we stepped into our wellies, pulled on our ponchos and grabbed our beer steins to bring you all the wet and wild highlights from heavy metal’s ‘Holy Ground’ in 2025...
There’s nothing like a little sex and sacrilege to start your festival off right. Grey skies have already begun to swirl over Wacken, but all eyes are on the black-and-white-clad troupe of evil nuns invading the Louder Stage on Wednesday afternoon. Overloading the innuendo with slinky original cuts Forbidden Zone, My First Peak and Carnal Liberation, it would be easy to dismiss mysterious quintet Dogma as scantily-clad provocateurs – all dark divinity and broken habits – but there is real skill in their shred-heavy attack. Blowing their excellent cover of Madonna's Like A Prayer early on is an odd move, but a razorblade medley of iconic riffs beginning with Ozzy's Crazy Train and Sabbath’s Paranoid supercharges the momentum. And by the time they get to uber-seductive closer The Dark Messiah, the huge crowd are kneeling in devotion. Nun more metal, indeed. (SL)
“We are Warbringer from Los Angeles, California and we don’t give a fuck about the rain,” growls John Kevill as the veteran brutalists crash the rust and wreckage of the Wasteland Stage. “We are here to beat the shit out of you!” That’s basically what happens as the modern thrash mainstays roar through unequivocally-titled bangers Firepower Kills, Hunter-Seeker and Woe To The Vanquished with fire in their lungs and acid in their veins. A plea for listeners not to keep taking shit like everyone has for the last 40 years and to “start offing some of these rich motherfuckers” adds a thrillingly current political slant to Remain Violent. But by the time they whip into the apocalyptic Total War, everyone is too busy throwing down to really care. (SL)
‘I am a dwarf and I'm digging a hole / Diggy, diggy hole, diggy, diggy hole!’
First on after the opening of the festival infield – home to the massive Faster and Harder stages – Italian power metallers Wind Rose set the tone with their cover of The Yogcast’s Diggy Diggy Hole – this afternoon featuring Saltatio Mortis mainman Jörg Roth. Not just because it's a weirdly apt soundtrack as acres of green fields are quickly dug up by the tens of thousands of fans rushing in, but also as an irresistible drinking song, and a showcase of metal at its most defiantly silly. It’s not just a one-song show, of course. Clad in hilariously unwieldy armour and fully bought-in, vocalist and Matt Berry lookalike Francesco Cavalieri and his merry men take us to the depths of Moria and back again courtesy of non-stop bangers like Dance Of The Axes and I Am The Mountain. Because there’s no problem a hammer can’t solve. (SL)
Hanabie are the perfect antidote for the soggy festival blues. Contrasting hard with the liquid brown squelching underfoot, their prickly neon overload forces the field full of punters over at the Louder Stage to flip their frowns upside down. Racing on in front of their bright pink backdrop to the sound of pounding techno and clapping hands, the Tokyo electronicore collective are the kind of band who would have once struggled to find their place at the none-trver Wacken of old. Bangers like O•TA•KU Lovely Densetsu, Bucchigiri Tokyo and Spicy Queen have their roots in extreme metal, sure, but they’re painted so bright and pumped up on such a sugar rush that they feel like something else entirely. In 2025, they go down an absolute storm with brave punters dressed as unicorns and Disney princesses beating up the battle jackets in the pit. (SL)
There's a bit of Alan Partridge/Sue Cook unwieldiness to the paired billing of original Nightwish singer Tarja Turunen and their former bassist/vocal lion Marko Hietala, given that he doesn't appear with the Finnish sympho-metal legend until eight songs in. It's handy, though, as it immediately begins to lift soggy spirits. Tarja's own solo stuff is decent enough on its own, particularly the apt and chuggy Tears In Rain, but when her colleague arrives and the punchy intro to their old band's immense Wishmaster thunders out, it's a notable change of gear. Few could do a cover of Phantom Of The Opera as convincingly as them, both in absolutely fantastic voice, and the version of old classic Wish I Had An Angel is a reminder of what a powerful pairing they are. They should get together more often. (NR)
Judged on their exploits in the UK alone, Beyond The Black still feel like relatively unproven symphonic metal challengers: an outfit with some distance yet to go. It’s a whole different ballgame in their home country. Stepping out in Wednesday’s de facto subheadline slot, Jennifer Haben and her Mannheim-based bandmates look every bit the heirs apparent to heroes like Within Temptation and Nightwish. Indeed, 11 years since they announced themselves properly at Wacken 2014, the band have grown spectacularly, with Jennifer in particular radiating confidence and star power. Truthfully, they’ve yet to produce the era-defining hit that could send them stratospheric. In the meantime, strident opener In The Shadows, flame-wreathed fresh cut Break The Silence and a fantastic Free Me – with Tina Guo guesting on cello and Jennifer wrapped in golden angel’s wings – are more than convincing proof that their rise will only continue. (SL)
That's longstanding Chilean death metallers Pentagram, not longstanding U.S. doomsters Pentagram. Either would be a treat, of course, and even in this muck, the underground legends are ripper. Doubly so, as they're currently celebrating 40 years on the job. And what fine work they do. As one of the first to really see how faster, harder and louder metal could go, not to mention more evil, today they are as delightfully evil as you'd expect, and so old school you half expect them to bring out a cane to use on posers. With no fucking about, they put bands a quarter of their age to shame, not least in the evil department, something they remain true masters of. Proof? The always brilliant diabolism of Demoniac Possession. Mud may have calmed the pits, but, as evidenced here, it's got a long way to go before it stops the headbanging. (NR)
The weather is murder as the clock ticks towards midnight. The sky dumps sheets of rain. Chills run down the backs of raincoat-clad backs. Anguished screams emanate from the darkness as unseen punters lose their wellies in the mud. Who better to get stuck in with, then, than SKYND? An unsettling proposition at the best of times, there’s something extra-eerie about soaking in their serial-killer obsession and spindly stagecraft under conditions like these. Enigmatic vocalist-of-the-same-name Skynd did a sit-down talk with criminal profiler Florence McLean to a big crowd last night, but it’s secondary to the more instinctive storytelling of glitchy odes Richard Ramirez and Aileen Wuornos this evening. Brilliantly, too, the biggest cheer of the evening is reserved for a song about one of Germany’s own: the Rotenburg Cannibal Armin Meiwes. Lecker! (SL)
Although not mentioned as much as you might expect onstage, the loss of Ozzy is keenly felt at Wacken. He did, after all, headline in 2011, on top of being basically the reason any of this happened at all. The enormous drone tribute in the sky is a wonderful touch, but the greatest salute, Ozzyfied, wasn't even booked as a tribute at all – they've been on the bill for ages, and played last year. By chance performing in a great slot on the day that the great man's final procession travelled through Birmingham, what should have just been a good-time piss up to a load of classics becomes a genuinely emotional farewell. It gets enough of a reaction when any band busts out a Randy riff or shouts The Double O's name, but Ozzyfied are a genuinely brilliant and well-observed act, costume changes, Zakk Wylde guitars and all. The usual Ozzy slam dunks – Crazy Train, Bark At The Moon, No More Tears – are excellent, as are the volley of Sabbath cuts at the end. But it's when lookalike singer Henning Wanner admits that playing Mama, I'm Coming Home would be too much for him that the gravity sets in. It's an all-too-real moment, but it does mean that, instead, there's a welcome airing of lesser-spotted ballad Dreamer. As the drones in the sky read, we love you, Ozzy. A cracking salute. (NR)
No-one is more excited to be back at Wacken than 3 Inches Of Blood. Returning to the Holy Ground for the first time in 17 years, the Canadian heavy metal revivalists could be forgiven for looking a little downcast at the torrential rain on their parade. Instead, they embrace the moment, overloading the Wasteland's impressive pyro kit, then daring the hardcore audience who’ve braved the elements to match that kind of fire. Indeed, there are few songs better to send denim-and-leather-clad bruisers storming the gates than Battles And Brotherhood or Trial Of Champions, and seeing them dusted off and deployed at full volume this evening is a genuine steely treat. (SL)
Well-intended as they always are, Battles Of The Bands too often end up being competitions in who can get more mates to the show than who’s actually the best band on the bill. Wacken’s international Metal Battle genuinely feels like a bringing together of the best-of-the-best, with entrants flying in from countries as scattered as Costa Rica and China, Kenya and Kyrgyztan. Ireland’s entry AeSect are a particularly interesting proposition, combining the twang of mid-era Metallica, Machine Head’s stomp and the frostbitten buzz of Dissection with enough effortlessly charismatic personality to get the early risers in the mood. They might fail in convincing everyone to circle-pit in the puddles, but they’ve won a horde of new fans regardless. Sláinte! (SL)
“Okay, I know that everyone here is over 50,” goads Tommy Victor before launching into Prong’s vertebrae-cracking closer Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck, “but I want to see a circle-pit, anyway!” The kind of band that would fit better in a sweaty warehouse well after midnight than on a drizzly afternoon like this, the New York industrial thrashers struggle to hit full gear at Wacken this year, even with the implacable punchiness of Beg To Differ, Prove You Wrong and Whose Fist Is This Anyway?. It’s just that with contemporaries like Ministry and Nailbomb knocking it out of the park later in the weekend, it seems that even their pointiest jabs don’t quite leave a mark. (SL)
One of the great things about Wacken is the opportunity to see bands being rightfully celebrated on giant stages that they truly deserve. So it is for German metal legends Grave Digger, marking their 45th anniversary. Often cited as one of the forebears of power metal, they're a much harder proposition than that title suggests, with a far heavier, more Motörhead-ish backbone and sense of speed, not to mention Chris Boltendahl's brilliant mix of harsh, rasping growls and enormous, full-lung singing. Huge, huge, headbanging songs like Kingdom Of Skulls and the shout-along of Valhalla are killer, as is former guitarist Uwe Lulis joining them for a one-two of Excalibur and bagpipe-tastic rager Rebellion (The Clans Are Marching). It ends with a ripping Heavy Metal Breakdown, which is something of a misnomer – after almost five decades, Grave Digger are firing on all cylinders. (NR)
If death metal is often like a splatter movie, all cartoonish violence and more blood than could actually ever fit into a human body, Chicago's Macabre are more like The League Of Gentlemen. With a beyond-detailed knowledge of the infamous, real-life murders they sing about, and a pedigree with old fashioned heaviness, there's also a deeply dark, desert-dry sense of humour at work. They've got a song about Jeffrey Dahmer putting corpses in a bathtub, entitled Scrub A Dub Dub, another dealing with Ted Bundy's Volkswagen called The Wheels On The Bug. All of this is explained in calm, monotonous deadpan by Paul Giamatti-lookalike frontman Corporate Death, always in the "This is a song from the album... It's about a guy who... It's called..." format. It would be stupid were Macabre not so brilliant at it, and there's a sick joy in a song like the excellent The Unabomber simply existing. Mr Death is cut off as he introduces the final song, leaving with a simple "mic off" instruction rather than any goodbye, depriving us of one last kill, but it's been brutal enough. And an unexpected LOL. (NR)
Stepping up in a rare spill of sunshine, Alice Guala looks electrified to finally be at Wacken. Telling of her journey from Italy via the UK to this moment in northwestern Germany, the Lake Malice vocalist practically drips with belief that if you work hard and take your chances anything is possible. It’s fitting, then, that their show this afternoon feels so much like victory snatched from the jaws of defeat as the synth-streaked sounds of Power Game manage to draw a legion of punters from across the, er, lake of water in the arena. Where, aesthetically and sonically, the core duo of Alice and Blake Cornwall have at times seemed to struggle with the sheer volume of influence in their hyperpop onslaught, too, today they seem steady-handed and streamlined. A triumphant flash flood of colour from players more than ready to take their chance on upcoming autumn support runs with Scene Queen and Enter Shikari. (SL)
Some will try to tell you being metal's not a competition. That's poser talk. It's also completely academic, as Hellbutcher would win every time. The Swedish lifer's got more chains, spikes and leather than any other band on the bill put together, not to mention a bigger Iron Maiden collection, and his skullet is admirable testament to his old assertion that "it's not a hairstyle, it's a statement – as long as I have one hair on my head, it will be long." But it's in the former Nifelheim legend's wild-eyed enthusiasm for metal – real, proper heavy metal – that he gets his power. Even their line-check sees drummer Devastator leading an impromptu sing-along as he warms up with a blast of Priest's Painkiller. When the main man arrives and they tear manically into The Sword Of Wrath, it's a full-on evil metal explosion. Throughout, he's a (surprisingly endearing) metal god, all foot-on-the-monitor stances and clawed hands. It helps that songs like Satan's Power and Perdition are completely killer speedfests. Even not having enough material for their slot isn't a problem, more an excuse to bang out a note-perfect cover of Maiden instrumental Losfer Words (Big ’Orra), Bathory's Die In Fire, and a closing slash through Venom's immortal Black Metal. A masterclass in what this stuff should be from one of the best ever to do it. Hail! (NR)
One of those artists who just seems to belong at Wacken, German guitar hero Michael Schenker is famous at the festival for his contributions with old muckers Scorpions at their epic 2006 headline and as part of his own Michael Schenker Group. The MSG are back in 2025, but this year is a celebration of his tenure with iconic London rockers UFO. Sporting his iconic furry hat/sunglasses/vest combo and throttling his Flying-V, neither the 70-year-old Michael himself nor songs as timeless as Doctor Doctor (Iron Maiden's legendary intro music) and Too Hot To Handle are showing any sign of wear and tear. But, obviously, the highlight is when Guns N’ Roses’ own Slash strides onstage a few songs in for a rendition of Mother Mary that threatens to bring the house down. (SL)
Tonight is the final date of Guns N’ Roses’ globetrotting Because What You Want & What You Get Are Two Completely Different Things Tour and, for better or worse, they deliver exactly what it says. On one hand, it is genuinely stirring to watch festival organisers Thomas and Holger pausing their seemingly endless duties to settle in on the VIP viewing deck to watch a band they’ve dreamt of booking for years. You can’t really argue with the effort Guns put in, either, with an epic three-and-a-half hour setlist that runs the gamut from Welcome To The Jungle, Mr Brownstone and evergreen Wings rework Live & Let Die to Nightrain and November Rain. Plus, their covers of Black Sabbath’s Never Say Die and Sabbath Bloody Sabbath are both better executed and more agonisingly poignant than they were at Back To The Beginning just a few weeks ago.
Unfortunately, Axl Rose still struggles at times, simply unable to hit the high bar he set himself decades ago. There are muddled moments where he seems to be out of step with the rest of his band, too, which feel both bamboozling and unforgivable at this level. Barnstorming to a close with Paradise City and stepping offstage beneath a spectacular drone-show of their iconic logo lighting up the sky, they’re still fucking Guns N’ Roses, mind: one of rock’s greatest ever bands. They just need to hold off playing live again until they’re sure of delivering a performance to truly do themselves justice. (SL)
When Guns N' Roses were dubbed 'The Most Dangerous Band In The World' back in the day, nobody had reckoned with Al Jourgensen and Ministry. The days of smack, getting raided by the FBI and generally being the dodgiest band ever to sell millions may be far behind in 2025, but they're still the most 'fuck you' band here, albeit with a slightly more mischievous glint. Either way, if you're feeling discombobulated and weird from general festival life, seeing the Chicago industrial legends tearing it up in the middle of the night is actually quite the tonic. Or, you sink more easily into their mad world, at least. Thieves, Rio Grande Blood and LiesLiesLies are harsh blasts of perfect industrial-metal noise that feel like you're being fed into a car crusher. Al struts around like a really fucked-up Keith Richards, occasionally picking up a guitar only to play a couple of notes at the end of the song on it, but he looks like a motherfucker doing it. And few moments of the weekend hit quite the temperature that the double whammy of N.W.O. and Just One Fix do. Still, after so long, nobody does it better. (NR)
What do you call a metal dinosaur? Heavysaurus! What do you call a metal dinosaur’s dog? Heavysaurus Rex... And this morning, they really do, to a staggeringly huge crowd. Born in Finland back in 2009, the colourfully-costumed lizard-like headbangers might be best known as purveyors of children’s entertainment, but today proves that metalheads are all really just big kids at heart. Coming on to John Williams’ iconic theme from Jurassic Park, many are still stuck on the wrong side of security as they munch through Super Monster-Auto, Pommesgabel [French Fry Fork, AKA Devil Hands] and Dinos woll'n euch tanzen seh'n [Dinos Want To See You Dance, to the tune of Rock You Like A Hurricane], but there’s still plenty left to sink their teeth into. Their medley of The Trooper, The Final Countdown and Master Of Puppets was always going to go down a storm, and seeing hardened pit bruisers bouncing around with dozens of small children to epic closer Dino-Metalheads is one of the most heartwarming scenes of the whole festival. It’s fashionable to complain about rock’s dinosaurs clogging up festival bills, but we’d always give these guys a break...(SL)
Most other years, cult Gothenberg blues-rockers Graveyard would be one of the hottest tickets on the Wacken timetable. On this biblically muddy Friday, though, it seems that many of those who got up to take in Heavysaurus have retreated back to their tents. They’re missing out – Graveyard are the kind of contrarian, capital-A Artists who live for days like these. Songs that seem to exist outside time or place – as full of feeling and meaning in swampy field in Germany as in any dusty bar room in the American south – Please Don’t and From A Hole In The Wall rumble with anger and longing, lustiness and heartbreak. It’s astonishing closer The Siren that steals the day here, though. With frontman Joakim Nilsson telling how ‘As the beasts were closing in, panic struck my mind / Swimming through the mud, yes I was swimming through the mud’ there isn’t a soul listening along who can’t sympathise. (SL)
NECKBREAKKER seem to be getting everywhere at the moment, and with good reason. The tools of their death metal trade may have been forged by the likes of Entombed and Dismember while their dads were still struggling to get into the pub, but the Danish crew bring a youthful vitality to the game that thrusts some hefty smelling salts under the old corpse's nose. They've also got a hardcore-shaped fist up their sleeve to give everything a bit of extra heft. The usual pits are far smaller today than normal, but there's still people literally diving into the massive puddle in front of the stage to a rabid version of Shackled To A Corpse. Singer Christoffer Kofoed then tells everyone to come forward, promising no pit. Instead, he says, he wants "everyone to fuckin' bang your heads". Fortunately, they have chonk-tastic riffs for that as well. Another win, however hard, for a band full of promise. (NR)
Ask anyone in the know backstage and they’ll tell you that Florent Salfati is one of the most exciting young vocalists in heavy music. Able to sing, scream rap and rage in equal measure, his potential has no ceiling. LANDMVRKS' arrival on one of the two towering main stages feels like a kind of coronation. Looking uncannily like a younger version of Stray From The Path frontman Drew York, Flo channels that legend’s aggro and adaptability, granting a snapshot of his full range on powerful opener Creature, before rampaging on through Death, Blistering and A Line In The Dust. Substantially stickier underfoot than their average show, it initially seems like fans are happy just looking on in awe at the video screens. But eventually they’re reminded that no-one stands still for Marseilles’ finest, and by Self-Made Black Hole, waves of crowdsurfers are tumbling over the barricade – and even security can’t help busting shapes. (SL)
There's a lot of singing along going on at Wacken, but few quite so jubilantly hooligan-ish as the a capella chorus of Angel Witch's eponymous banger. The NWOBHM legends' whole set, in fact, is one of the most rollockingly fun of the weekend. The enthusiasm for tearing through songs like Atlantis or White Witch hasn't been dulled in the 45 years since they were released, while newer stuff like Dead Sea Scrolls and Death From Andromeda add a bit of new flair to proceedings. In fact, a couple more newies wouldn't have gone amiss. But then, with a clip full of such bangers, what do you lose to make space? Anyway, Angel Witch still rule. (NR)
Inimitable Fudge Tunnel frontman and producer extraordinaire Alex Newport might have long since stepped back from touring, but the version of Nailbomb – his infamous collaboration with Max Cavalera – that rocks up this afternoon feels about as close to the original as we’re going to get. Featuring an all-star line-up, with three members of Pig Destroyer, GAAD bassist Jackie Cruz and Max’s son Igor on drums, they demolish with a performance that picks up the intensity around about where Ministry left off last night. It would be nice to say that Blind And Lost or World Of Shit are less relevant today than when they were written, but each one feels even more visceral, violent and vital – likewise the covers of Doom’s Exploitation and Dead Kennedys’ Police Truck. At least all-guns-blazing closer Sick Life is an ideal soundtrack to cathartically hammer blood into mud. (SL)
"I normally do a 'get down,'" muses Harvey Freeman, realising asking people to squat in standing water is probably not the way to win friends. Instead? "I wanna see the biggest fucking mud fight." Graphic Nature are on raging form today, with 404 sounding particularly venomous, and even weightier than normal. It's also exciting seeing them in foreign climes, where they're having to fight harder than usual for it. With Fractured and Locked In slugging hard, it shows just what solid iron this band are made of, just as Harvey's chat about the importance of not just manning up when something's wrong instead of trying to understand it and get on top of it properly shows their big heart. And though Killing Floor doesn't get the usual reaction of its title today, it's nevertheless a grand showing from a brilliant British export. (NR)
“Wacken Open Air, what the fuck is up?” grins Laura Pleasants through dark sunglasses as grey skies transition to blazing late-afternoon light. “We are Kylesa, I think we bring the sunshine!” And riffs. Mostly riffs, in fact. Brilliant six-string work has never been in short supply here, but the feast of munchy guitar served up by the sludgy Savannah overlords is simply staggering. Still just nine shows in following a 10-year hiatus, they’ve evidently hit that sweet spot between freshness and well-oiled practice. The chemistry between Laura and co-vocalist/guitarist Phillip Cope is as intriguing as it’s ever been, with the alternately droning/driving delivery of Tired Climb and Don’t Look Back still utterly irresistible. Still, it’s the monumental heaviness of Running Red and Scapegoat that ensure today will linger long in fans’ minds – and neck muscles. Roll on their UK return at ArcTanGent! (SL)
With her blood and bandages, Mimi Barks is perfectly in keeping with the Wasteland Stage's rusty aesthetic. Despite being dressed to the nines, she also has absolutely no qualms about hauling herself over the barrier into the crowd to spit her lines from the middle of the muddy pond that is the pit. Somewhat incredibly, she emerges some time later apparently without a spot of dirt on her. Then again, the doom trap witch is already grimy enough, with WORMGIRL and the scattergun, German rap of MONTANA sounding particularly 3am-under-a-streetlight even in the incongruous sunshine. BANSHEE, meanwhile, with its huge chorus and abyssal darkness, is absolutely massive, even when placed next to her brilliant cover of Linkin Park's crawling. New music's coming, she tells us, and it's going to blow our minds. Just seeing her like this, we completely believe her. (NR)
There's a definite sadness in watching Orange Goblin coming in to land for the final time, after 30 years of some of the finest, big-arsed stoner-metal the UK has or will ever produce. That is, until they start playing, and the thoughts of them doing their last show in December are boistrously barged out of the way by the joyous riot that is a Goblin gig. The one-two opening of Solarisphere and the ever-heavy Sabbath-and-Motörhead stew of Scorpionica is absolutely bananas, and from here, it's a trip through every era of their career, from early favourite Saruman's Wish from their Frequencies From Planet Ten debut, to newie (Not) Rocket Science. Amongst it all, Blue Snow remains one of the best songs to come from a British metal band ever, and They Come Back is one of the greatest shout-alongs about zombies you'll ever hear. Even shorn of hair and off the booze these days, Ben Ward is still a loveable, oafish metal maniac, a proper man-mountain frontman who also feels just like your mate who's been allowed up to do a song. It's fantastic. We're losing something great, no doubt, but the Orange fuckin' Goblin are going out on a proper high. (NR)
Cometh the hour, cometh the band. When Papa Roach’s name appeared up in lights at the spectacular end of last year's fest, there were murmurs throughout the audience about whether they were big enough, heavy enough, or just plain exciting enough to deserve top billing at the world’s biggest metal festival. Few could have imagined the sheer chaos that unfolds as they finally step up to the task. Drawing not just hands-down the biggest crowd of the weekend (imagine feeling cramped in a farm field…), but one of the biggest ever seen at Wacken, the Vacaville bad boys pull out all the stops to own it.
“My family are back home 5,000 or 6,000 miles away, watching this on livestream,” gushes Jacoby Shaddix. “But we’ve got plenty of family here, too!” On another night, it could be the sort of quip the savvy frontman drops out of sheer charm. This evening it’s obvious he means it.
Opening with an onscreen ‘video premiere’ for new single BRAINDEAD feels odd and impersonal, representative of the colder, corporate tendencies they’ve sometimes slipped into in recent years. But as soon as Jacoby and the lads step onstage, there’s no lack of the flesh-and-blood feeling that made us all fans in the first place. Opener EVEN IF IT KILLS ME is a new song, but it’s a massive pop-rock banger delivered with raw defiance. Blood Brothers and Dead Cell catapult people back a quarter-century. Then we’re off. From Getting Away With Murder and ...To Be Loved to a cover medley of Linkin Park’s In The End with Ozzy Osbourne’s Changes it’s like a working resume to prove they can manage shows of this size. And with flame jets belching smoke-rings into a golden sky, huge video production, fans roaring back every word and even a cheeky drum solo, they absolutely nail it.
The encore is somehow even better. Between Angels And Insects segues via a bass solo into Infest. Then Jacoby announces that “it’s all nu-metal from here on out”, taking Wacken on an outrageously audacious whistle-stop medley of Korn’s Blind, Deftones’ My Own Summer (Shove It), Limp Bizkit’s Break Stuff and System Of A Down’s Chop Suey. Obviously they sign off with thunderous old favourite Last Resort. Yet it feels like the first step of a once unthinkable new chapter, a tease that Papa Roach’s greatest successes are somehow still to come. Believe. (SL)
If Papa Roach are Wacken 2025’s boldest headline booking, Dimmu Borgir’s return in the Harder Stage late-slot might just be its safest. Festival favourites whose history on this hallowed turf goes back across seven appearances (starting in 1997), Norway’s beloved symphonic black metallers understand exactly what shows like these are all about. The crowd might have dwindled a little but the sound seems to have swollen exponentially, with Moonchild Domain, Puritania and Interdimensional Summit bursting out of the speakers and swooping through the night. It’s pure evil, yeah, but it’s luxuriant and defiant and darkly life-affirming, too. Frontman Shagrath is a demonic master of ceremonies, conjuring all manner of maleficence, while his bandmates stand guard like imposing acolytes. Progenies Of The Great Apocalypse borders on orchestral overload, positively Wagnerian in its scale and strength. But it’s Mourning Palace that sends everyone off into the night, the frostier, more jagged edges a perfect primer for whatever is lurking out there in the dark corners of the campsite. Hellishly good, exactly as you’d expect. (SL)
If it feels like Sweden's The Hellacopters are delivering even more rock'n'roll good times than usual, it's because it's legendary frontman Nicke Andersson's birthday. Not that any of them need it, but Carry Me Home, Everything's On T.V. and Token Apologies from this year's stonking Overdriver do, indeed, have an extra spring in their step. On Tuesday night, before the festival properly got going, the forecourt of the village petrol station became the place to drink for those wishing to explore the town. Imagine early Aerosmith turning up to play an impromptu show on the pavement, and you have The Hellacopters – cut from the same cool cloth as The Rolling Stones, but with a big streak of punky grit under their fingernails. Nicke is the perfect embodiment of both, a charismatic (but cooly quiet) superstar with a calm, loose vibe, like a slicker Lemmy. In the bluesy lament of So Sorry I Could Die, they have a song that turns the midnight mud into a dive bar, and while it's perhaps wise superstition that they don't play Reap A Hurricane in such conditions, the ultra-suave riff that announces By The Grace Of God is endlessly classic, schooling every other band here in just how you're supposed to do a riff. Some bands may have arrived by helicopter, but they'll never quite have what The Hellacopters have. (NR)
Party Cannon fans keeping an eye on social media on Friday morning are subject to a call to arms. “Be at Wacken’s Wasteland stage come 11 o’clock,” they are told, “and prepare to lower your IQ!” Even with that kind of fair warning, no one is really prepared for the levels of silliness the Scottish slam scamps unleash. From wheelie bins in the mosh pit and push-ups in the mud to the Wasteland complex’s pyro kit being pushed so hard there are a whole crew of firefighters wringing their hands nervously at the side of the stage, it is unbridled, high-calibre chaos. Songs as unintelligible as Human Slime, Thirst Trap and Weird, Not Illegal might not inspire the biggest sing-alongs of the weekend, but they do fire up the most enthusiastic crowd participation with bodies tumbling in all directions and taking (voluntary and unintended) facefuls of mud. They’re all grinning by the final bell, mind, even if it’s through masks of flame-grilled grime. (SL)
"Welcome to Germany!" bellows Schmier, spotting the number of flags from around the world flying in front of him. "Welcome to thrash metal in the afternoon!" Whatever the Destruction mainman has had for breakfast, it's put him in a very good mood. And a very energised one. As one of the German Big Four alongside Kreator, Sodom and Tankard, Wacken is a home away from home, and an easy win, but they still rip through Eternal Devastation and the gloriously yobbish sing-along of Nailed To The Cross like they have something to prove. Which just proves how monstrous they can be. Clearly having a laugh, Schmier is an excellent master of ceremonies, and through all the flexing and sweating he does to "the first riff we ever wrote" that makes up the essential Mad Butcher, he looks like he's having the time of his life. Announcing that politicians are all "assholes" before the 'tude-riddled No Kings No Masters only adds to his good time. They end with Thrash 'Til Death. You imagine they really, really will. (NR)
System Of A Down have never played Wacken. Maybe they should, as August Burns Red’s set-starting rendition of Chop Suey goes down even better than Papa Roach’s take about 16 hours earlier. It’s a fun moment, albeit not exactly representative of the rest of a set which heavily underlines the Pennsylvanian metalcore mainstays’ credentials as festival heavyweights in their own right. “Thank you so much for such a beautiful day,” JB Brubaker greets the muddy masses with no hint of irony. “Is this August Drips Brown?!” laughs one unbelieving observer. Yet the enthusiasm with which JB and his bandmates tear through Paramount, Composure and Defender confirms they really are just that fired up to be taking command of the Faster Stage. Even given the bedraggled, broken look of those down the front it does feel odd that there isn’t a little more action for songs like Bloodletter and Vengeance. But by the final one-two of Marianas Trench and White Washed the faithful have properly shaken themselves awake and are tumbling freely over the top. Consider Wacken scorched. (SL)
“I’ve been into metal since I was very little,” smiles Floor Jansen. “Not that I ever really was very little, of course…” A towering 1.83 metres in the flesh, the current Nightwish vocalist is even more of a figurative giant in the world of symphonic metal. From ReVamp’s Wolf And Dog, to After Forever’s Energize Me, to Nightwish’s Amaranthe and rocked-up solo cut Invincible, this is a remarkable showcase. It's also a reminder that Floor is both virtuoso and megastar, able to slay and salve in the course of a single breath. Leaning into the heavier end of her catalogue, there aren't the heartfelt alt. pop stylings of My Paragon or more purely operatic highlights like her cover of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s Phantom Of The Opera, but there can be no complaining. She closes with a stunning three-song salvo that seems to acknowledge her past, present and future: After Forever’s Face Your Demons, Nightwish’s Nemo and her own Fire. On today’s evidence, there is no upper limit on where she could go next. (SL)
It's strange that a band so long in the tusk as Mastodon should only just be making their Wacken debut, but it's also quite wonderful that now they have finally arrived, it's in the crushing form they're on right now. Delivered with louche coolness, The Motherload, Crystal Skull and Megalodon are the perfect balance of muscle and twisting groove, backed by weird, psychedelic visuals that threaten to loosen what's left of your brain even in the late afternoon light. All of this is even more reassuring in light of the recent departure of guitarist Brent Hinds, that the beast can't be knocked from its perch so easily. The man currently handling the job, Nick Johnston, is a more disciplined prospect than the wild, earthy brilliance of his predecessor, but he still slots in perfectly, duelling with Bill Kelliher seamlessly. Blood And Thunder hoving into view toward the end would have been a barnstorming final hit on the afternoon, but it's outdone for once by actual closer, their cover of Sabbath's Supernaut. As as Back To The Beginning, it's incredible not just that a band who aren't Black Sabbath can nail the exact level of swing needed to make the song work, but that Brann Dailor is singing (perfectly, we may add) at the same time as he's playing the unexpectedly tricky backbone. You may have been worried that Mastodon may be about to go extinct. Not so. Not so. (NR)
Stepping onstage to a version of Riddle Of Steel/Riders Of Doom from the Conan The Barbarian soundtrack and boasting a backdrop featuring the grim reaper carrying a naked woman on the back of a bat-winged goat, Night Demon seem determined to prove their metalness before they’ve even played a note. If that doesn’t do it, then their no-holds-barred 10th birthday run-through of Curse Of The Damned just might. There’s nothing all that big or clever about the old-school attack of a song like Screams In The Night, or the groovier swagger pulsing through Curse Of The Damned. But so committed are the traditionalist Californians to the cause that you can’t help but be swept up in it all. Playing the album in order does mean they end on the slightly more downbeat Save Me Now, but the hardcore are so banged-out by that point they’re happy to just swing hips and play air guitar. Horns up all the way! (SL)
Even after all these years, Blackie Lawless still hasn’t quite mastered the the art of getting fans psyched up for a show of this size. Everyone should be excited, he tells us towards the end, because this tour is the last time W.A.S.P. will play 1984’s self-titled debut in full. Probably. Maybe. But the tour will be continuing through most of the rest of the year in Europe anyway, too. So, if you don’t like today’s rainswept showing, y’know you’ll probably still have another chance anyway. Deficiencies as a hype-man aside, though, the infamous shock-rocker – bravely clad in white boots – and the well-drilled current assemblage of his band are in fine form, roaring through I Wanna Be Somebody and Sleeping (In The Fire). And although their refusal to throw in Animal (Fuck Like A Beast), which was dropped last minute from the album’s original release but did make the 1998 CD reissue, feels like poor form, they make up for it with Wild Child and Blind In Texas. There’s still a little sting left in their tail! (SL)
"Can you turn up," demand Midnight, "the fucking HELL?!" That's their job, really, and the hooded U.S. thrash-punks deliver it with both fists as they tear through a set dedicated to cuts from their essential Complete And Total Hell album. A metal band playing punk? Punks doing metal? Either way, it sounds like Motörhead playing in a graveyard, with an onstage wildness that underlines quite how hard they know how to rock'n'roll. They're also blessed with that rare genius that sounds very easy and simple on ragers like All Hail Hell, I Am Violator and the extra-speedy White Hot Fire, but requires a just-so touch to get right, like the Ramones. For such a raucous racket, they also have one of the best sound mixes of the whole weekend, with Athenar getting a rich, heavy bass tone that would make Geezer Butler jealous. But what you're really here for is three blokes in hoods, leather jackets and bullets, going at 100 miles per hour and screaming 'Blasphemy' and 'Devil' a lot. You get it, with a force that sees broken bass strings as they come to a crashing end, making inverted-cross hand gestured with their middle fingers. Going to Hell never felt so right. (NR)
Obituary grew up around the swamps in Florida which makes them an ideal soundtrack as conditions underfoot continue to deteriorate. Not that anyone is complaining. Blowing all and sundry away as opener Redneck Stomp segues into a hilariously apt Threatening Skies, their brand of brutish death metal basically screams ‘suck it up and start swinging’ with zero softening of the message even between decades-old favourites like By The Light or Body Bag. There’s some deference to their heroes, with a cover of Celtic Frost’s Circle Of The Tyrants and a quick flourish from Black Sabbath’s Black Sabbath as they tear into irresistible closer Slowly We Rot. Spilling from the pit black and blue, mud brown and blood red, though, tonight feels more like a wholehearted celebration of Obituary themselves, who remain amongst death metal’s most bizarrely underrated bands. (SL)
Years ago, K! saw Within Temptation do an enormous, grand show with an orchestra, choir, ballet dancers – it was exactly as magical as you imagine. Somehow, getting soaked from the latest downpour, they lose nothing of that charm. It's pretty epic, actually, hearing earlier cuts like Ice Queen backed by the elements. Anyway, nothing can dampen just how radiant Sharon Den Adel is today, doing an even more impassioned turn than usual to fight the conditions, with Faster and Stand My Ground getting an extra shot of power, not to mention a fighty grit. Wrapping herself in a Ukrainian flag from the crowd for the anti-war lament of Wireless, there's clearly a big heart behind the big pomp, but no matter what they do, today they are on fire. Closing with a spectacular Mother Earth as the sky once again falls, it couldn't be more dramatic if they'd actually planned it. Absolutely sensational. More than normal. (NR)
“Gojira have played at Wacken many times,” blinks Joe Duplantier early in the French titans’ elemental set, “but never did we imagine that we would be playing this stage at this time.”
Indeed, tonight feels like a milestone moment. Gojira have headlined festivals before. They’ve played the Olympics. But taking top billing at Wacken is perhaps the ultimate honour for a band who wrote The Heaviest Matter In The Universe. They don’t play that song tonight. In fact, they only play three from before 2012. But having built their reputation of progressiveness and forward thinking, it is only fitting that what we get is more a snapshot of who Gojira are now, and a tease who they may be, rather than any nostalgia trip.
Only Pain, The Axe and Backbone lay down their marker with fast and furious brutality. Stranded proves they can write riffs as good as anyone’s, without sounding like anyone else. Flying Whales is still an unforgettable oddity, sensitive as it is savage, with tonight’s selection of inflatables getting wet even when they are up in the sky.
Lean and mean almost to a fault, there is no indulgence, nor any hint of wasted time. We get their cover of Black Sabbath’s Under The Sun / Every Day Comes And Goes from Back To The Beginning. We’re graced with a performance of their Olympics’ arrangement of Mea culpa (Ah! Ça ira!) featuring mezzo-soprano Marina Viotti, too. And Joe’s more eccentric brother Mario comes out from behind the drum-kit to boast about his double-bass abilities. But every moment is folded into a polished, fast moving whole. A mass sing-along for The Chant feels like vindication for the more melodic flourishes on 2021’s Fortitude, while Amazonia showcases perhaps its most primal bludgeon. L’enfant Sauvage raises the tension and technicality. And, suddenly, we’re being left with The Gift Of Guilt. Hypnotically downbeat but utterly brilliant, it is the kind of song with which only Gojira could end a show of this magnitude: angry, indignant, offering only the faintest glimmer of hope. Because the grandest stages deserve the most urgent message. Gojira’s is painfully great. (SL)
Shimmering across the night sky, the vast drone show announcing the first bands for Wacken 2026 right before Machine Head hit the stage concludes with a new festival slogan: ‘PARTY ON!’ It seems to be one that Robb Flynn has taken to heart. Faced with absolutely atrocious conditions and some of the heaviest rain of the whole festival, it takes a small miracle to keep exhausted fans engaged. Fortunately, those kinds of victories are a Machine Head speciality. Whether inciting chaos with raucous opener Imperium, supercharging Ten Ton Hammer with dozens of inflatable mallets (and beers) chucked into the crowd, or revving up the circle pit with CHØKE ØN THE ASHES ØF YØUR HATE, the crowd are clenched in their grip and throttled hard for 90 glorious minutes.
Having accustomed fans to their far longer, more in-depth ‘An evening with…’ showcases, this 12-song set could have felt a little insubstantial. Instead, it’s just perfect: a final shot in the arm before most of this knackered crowd calls curtains on Wacken 2025. From the biblical Locust to the spring-loaded From This Day, it’s a thrilling reminder of how much ground Machine Head have covered, too. And as the shotgun blast of Davidian gives way to cathartic closer Halo it’s proof that despite what most promoters seem to think about about Machine Head’s ability as big festival headliners, given what they make of an opportunity like this there really aren’t many who could do it better. Old-school brilliance soaked in beer and brown-eyes. Cheers, fuckers, as always! (SL)
'And as the clock strikes midnight' King Diamond arrives, at truly the only hour he should ever appear onstage. With an enormous haunted house/hospital to play on, and singing into his customary human bone mic stand, the Danish master of macabre is having a whale of a time telling his metal horror stories tonight, opening ceremonies with the double-bill of The Arrival and A Mansion In Darkness from his classic Abigail album (surely one of the best opening throws in metal history), and only getting spookier from there. Halloween gets a massive shout-along, working its charms even though we're still three months off. When he rolls out his dear old grandmother for Welcome Home, meanwhile, it's the only time you'll hear 10,000 people shrieking 'Grandmaaaaaa' and not sound ridiculous. He's got a lot of banter as well, impishly taking the piss between songs. The delay on his new album remains frustrating, but still, The King remains the perfect ringmaster at his Satanic circus – the greatest show in Hell. (NR)
Closing out Wacken 2025 proves to be something of a poisoned chalice for Fit For A King. On a drier year, their late-late show would be the toast of the festival, a packed-out last chance to chug beers and bang heads. As it turns out, the hammering downpour and dropping temperatures ensure only a plastic-wrapped hardcore turn out. With water sweeping onstage, sporadically even obscuring the the video feed, it is clear that the Texan metalcore crew appreciate the devotion.
“Thank you all for sticking it out til 1am in this…” frontman Ryan Kirby beats his chest, before powering into the incredibly impassioned No Tomorrow and Begin The Sacrifice, fresh from eighth album Lonely God which just dropped yesterday. It’s the fitting refrain from When Everything Means Nothing (‘Yeah, I was born in the rain…’) and far heavier old favourite Backbreaker that really stoke a little warmth. And although meeting the crowd’s appeals for one more song isn’t possible due to having a fill-in bassist for ‘Tuck’ O’Leary, they do announce that next year will see Fit For A King’s much drier first-ever European headline run. Everyone here will surely be there, probably still trying to get the last of the dirt from under their fingernails.
And with that, Wacken 2025 is in the history books. Back at the tent, there’s a lot of wiping away mud and wringing water from clothes before we head to the airport. It’ll be damn good to get in a warm bath and a clean bed. But somewhere in the back of our minds we’re already feeling the twinge of excitement for next year. Pack a raincoat and suntan lotion. We’ll see you down the front: Rain or shine!
Wacken Open Air returns July 29 – August 1, 2026. Get your tickets here.
Read this next:
