Review & Photography by Manny Manson for MPM
Wolverhampton is a town with steel in its soul. Built on the bones of industry and raised on the holy trinity of Sabbath, Priest, and dare I say Robert Plant, it’s no surprise that one of the UK’s most beloved grassroots venues—KK’s Steel Mill—feels like sacred ground to rock fans. Founded by K.K. Downing of Judas Priest fame, the venue fuses raw industrial charm with modern stagecraft, a cavernous hall of metal and sweat and roar, where heritage and heaviness collide.
Tonight, a packed and expectant crowd gathered not just for a show, but for something closer to a communion. Outside, for once the rain had stayed clear and not soaked the streets of the Black Country, but inside KK’s, a different kind of storm was brewing, a storm that would span eras, genres, and generations. A night that promised both spiritual incantation and fretboard fireworks. The old gods and the new.
Opening tonight’s bill were Wytch Hazel, the Lancastrian quartet who’ve been quietly conjuring their own peculiar alchemy for over a decade. And following them, none other than the great Michael Schenker himself, here, celebrating fifty years since his UFO debut with a full-force set of classic anthems and deep cuts. It was a night of contrast, sure, but also of symmetry. Both acts deal in legacy. Both channel a higher power. Both, in their own way, worship the riff.
Wytch Hazel appeared first, robed in white, their necks adorned with crucifixes and their stage presence somewhere between medieval monks and Victorian occultists. Their aesthetic is unmistakable, deeply pagan and entirely devout.
Formed in Lancaster by singer/guitarist Colin Hendra, Wytch Hazel have carved a unique path through the contemporary rock landscape since their debut Prelude in 2016. Drawing from the heavy blues of early Sabbath, the melodic flair of Thin Lizzy, and the stately solemnity of British folk, theirs is a sound both familiar and otherworldly. Following Prelude came II: Sojourn in 2018 and then III: Pentecost in 2020, each album deepening the band’s identity, pairing scripture and solos with a sense of unflinching earnestness. This isn’t tongue-in-cheek cosplay. This is sermon by Les Paul.
Their set opens with “The Fire’s Control,” the blazing opener from IV: Sacrament. The riff is immediate, majestic and propulsive, with Hendra’s voice ringing out like a clear bell over its churning chords. There’s a purity to it all, a defiant clarity, the likes of which feels increasingly rare in a genre too often obsessed with irony. This is Wytch Hazel’s great strength: they believe in their music.
“I Am Redeemed,” this one from the earlier III: Pentecost, follows with its grand marching rhythm and ringing dual leads. Hendra and second guitarist Alex Haslam (Big Al) trade licks with unhurried precision, their playing evoking Wishbone Ash and early Maiden in equal measure. Andy Shackleton on bass and Aaron Hay on drums provide the rock-solid backbone, the rhythm section understated but never lacking in drive. The crowd is attentive, absorbing it all with silent reverence.
“Still, We Fight,” a standout from II: Sojourn, ups the drama with its triumphant vocal line and rolling toms, before “Archangel,” from III: Pentecost, offers a stately, near-processional groove. This is music steeped in ancient imagery and spiritual metaphor, but it never tips into the pompous. Instead, it feels earthy. Real. Lived in. The crosses they wear aren’t props. They’re part of the fabric.
Then comes “Dry Bones,” another thunderous track from III: Pentecost with a swaggering bassline and one of Hendra’s finest vocal performances. The lyrics draw from Ezekiel, yes, but the delivery is more NWOBHM than hymnal. And then, something new. “The Devil Is Here,” another from II: Sojourn snarls with urgency. It’s heavier than earlier material, but retains that melodic backbone. Think Blue Öyster Cult by way of Lindisfarne.
Up next comes “Woven,” an upcoming cut from their soon-to-be-released album V: Lamentations (due in July), a somewhat ethereal track built on layered guitars and haunting harmonies. If Wytch Hazel’s past albums conjured fields and firelight, this song feels more like stone and smoke, a deeper, darker chapter. “Elements,” another debut from the new record tonight, builds on that momentum with galloping rhythms and a surprisingly intricate solo passage.
“Spirit and Fire,” back to III: Pentecost, is all uplift and shimmer, perhaps the most overtly devotional track in the set, but its fervour feels genuine. There’s nothing hollow or performative here. Wytch Hazel aren’t here to convince you of anything, they’re simply sharing what they feel. The closing song, “Healing Power,” is a fitting finale, and a final taste of the new album, it swells and soars with clean vocals, righteous harmonies, and a closing riff that lingers in the rafters long after the lights dim.
Wytch Hazel leave the stage not with bombast, but with quiet gratitude. They’ve transformed the space, opened the ceremony, lit the candles, invoked the names. And now, it’s time for the fire to be passed. As the incense clears and the final chords of “Healing Power” fade into silence, the mood in KK’s Steel Mill shifts. Gone is the sacred hush; now comes the charge. While Wytch Hazel offered reverence and ritual, what follows is a full-blooded rock resurrection.
Michael Schenker’s “My Years with UFO” 50th Anniversary World Tour has arrived, and tonight marks the opening of its UK leg. If Wytch Hazel were the prelude, this is the main event, the celebration of a guitarist whose legacy casts a shadow over the very genre itself.
Michael Schenker’s name is etched into hard rock history. Bursting onto the scene in the early ’70s as a teenage prodigy with the Scorpions, he joined UFO in 1973 and, over the next five years, helped craft some of the most enduring and influential hard rock records ever made: Phenomenon (1974), Force It (1975), No Heavy Petting (1976), Lights Out (1977), and Obsession (1978). With his white Flying V and unmistakable tone, he became a cornerstone of that era, melodic, fearless, and utterly unique.
As the lights drop once again at KK’s Steel Mill in Wolverhampton. An expectant hush swells through the crowd. Moments earlier, Wytch Hazel had transformed the room into a flickering cathedral of medieval power and spiritual conviction, now, anticipation turns electric. The air thickens. And then it happens: the scream of Led Zeppelin’s Immigrant Song crashes through the house PA like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart. The riff alone is enough to summon goosebumps, but what it signals is even more exciting—the arrival of one of hard rock’s most storied guitarists.
Michael Schenker is about to take the stage.
This is the UK opening night of his “My Years with UFO” 50th Anniversary World Tour. It’s not just a gig, call it a victory lap. A retrospective journey through a back catalogue that has helped to shape hard rock and heavy metal as we know it. But unlike many legacy tours, this one feels fiery, alive, charged with intent. There’s reverence, yes, but also raw energy, KK’s is buzzing with it!
And then he appears, under the lights, no leather jacket, with sleeves rolled up nowadays, Flying V slung low, his white hair hidden by a sunglass laden fluffy hat and neck scarf, arms bared save for tattoos and an elbow support. Schenker walks to the front of the stage with the quiet confidence of a man who knows he changed the game and doesn’t need to boast about it. The band lock in behind him and bang, they’re into “Natural Thing,” the 1976 classic from No Heavy Petting. It’s like a piston firing into life. The riff is greasy and nimble, the tempo urgent, the crowd immediately lit up. Schenker’s fingers move across the fretboard with practiced ease, but the sound, tragically, is a little buried in the mix. The guitars are underpowered, hidden beneath a punchy, slightly over-forward rhythm section. The low-end is too prominent, and for an artist like Schenker, whose career has been built on lyrical solos and biting melodic phrasing, it’s a frustrating mix.
But it’s not enough to derail the energy. “Only You Can Rock Me,” from 1978’s Obsession, rolls in next, and the band begins to settle. By the time they hit “Hot and Ready,” also from Obsession, the opening track on side B, the rhythm section has found a groove and the crowd is fully invested. There’s a communal joy rippling through the venue, everyone knows the words, everyone is here for this celebration.
The band Schenker has assembled for this run is solid and well-drilled. On vocals is Swedish singer Erik Grönwall, stepping into the shoes of Phil Mogg, no small task. Grönwall, best known for his work with H.E.A.T. and a short stint with Skid Row, brings a bright, soaring voice and an energetic stage presence. He’s not trying to mimic Mogg, but instead sings the songs with his own flair, hitting the high notes with power, if not always with perfect clarity. Sadly, his vocals too suffer from the muddiness of the mix, a sentiment echoed by many in the venue on the night. He has the pipes, without doubt, but they often fight for airspace against the booming bass and drums.
Still, his energy is infectious, and when the band kicks into “Doctor Doctor” from 1974’s Phenomenon, the room erupts. This is the big one, the anthem, the moment everyone’s been waiting for. Voices rise in unison, arms go up, and Schenker finally starts to emerge from the murk with a blistering solo that reminds us why he’s worshipped by guitarists across genres. It’s not just fast—it’s articulate, measured, emotional. Schenker was only 18 when he penned this classic UFO track, it was their first to enter the top 40, back when we had an eclectic ‘POP CHART’.
The night is structured around the classic UFO era, pulling heavily from the seminal records: Phenomenon (1974), Force It (1975), No Heavy Petting (1976), Lights Out (1977), and Obsession (1978). From “Mother Mary” and “I’m a Loser” to “This Kid’s” and “Lights Out,” each song arrived like a call to arms, an explosion of tightly coiled, melodic hard rock that has aged with incredible grace. The twin leads and punchy arrangements still sound vital, relevant, even revolutionary.
The rhythm section keeps things driving. Barend Courbois (Blind Guardian, Tank) handles the bass with muscular precision, his tone booming through the mix, perhaps too much at times; especially over of stage right, but giving each track a thunderous low-end that ensures nothing sounds too flat. On drums, Bodo Schopf (also of the Michael Schenker Group) is a machine, as ever he is tight, powerful, playing with both restraint and muscle. Guitarist and keyboardist Steve Mann, a Schenker mainstay, fills in the cracks with deft rhythm playing and tasteful keys, providing atmosphere without cluttering the sound.
Then, something beautiful happens. The band downshifts into “Lipstick Traces,” a haunting acoustic instrumental from Phenomenon. It’s a brief, reflective pause in the set, a chance for Schenker to show his more lyrical side. He segues straight into “Between the Walls,” a deep cut from 1975’s Force It, where it’s segued with the previously played, “This Kids” tonight the pairing works brilliantly. The acoustic to electric transition is seamless, and for the first time all night, the venue falls into a hush. The crowd watches, listens, breathes with the music. It’s intimate, powerful, and a stark reminder that Schenker’s mastery lies not just in shredding but in soul.
That emotion is pushed even further with “Love to Love,” one of the night’s true highlights. Originally from 1977’s Lights Out, the track builds slowly, patiently, with Mann’s keys laying a lush backdrop for Grönwall’s vocal, which here finds space to shine. When Schenker’s lead finally arrives, it’s nothing short of stunning, achingly melodic, restrained, and full of character. It’s the kind of playing that transcends technique. You feel it in your chest, and through the hairs on the back of your neck.
From there, it’s full throttle to the finish. “Let It Roll”, from 1975’s Force It, brings back the chugging swagger, while “Can You Roll Her” from 1976’s No Heavy Petting and “Reasons Love” dig deeper into the catalogue. There’s no filler here, just a barrage of stone-cold classic tracks played with fire, shot, straight from the hip.
Then comes the set closer, “Rock Bottom.” The masterpiece from 1974’s Phenomenon. The epic. The one every guitarist in the crowd has been waiting for. Even with the low guitar mix, it’s immense. The main riff lands like an earthquake, and the solo that follows is a journey in and of itself, building, tumbling, ascending. Schenker is fully in command now, his fingers dancing, not fighting. This is what he does best: take a crowd to another plane without a word. The ovation is long and loud, a perfect way to end a set…
However, they don’t leave the stage, Schenker grins and taking the mic, simply asks, “Do you want two more?” The crowd roars. Of course they do.
“Shoot Shoot” (Force It) is all bite and swagger, one last blast of the full-throttle UFO sound. And then, fittingly, the closer: “Too Hot to Handle” from the incredible 1977 album Lights Out. Schenker dedicates this final song of the night to Phil Mogg and the late, great Pete Way. There’s a real tenderness in the tribute, Schenker doesn’t say much, but his eyes and the music do. It’s a reminder that this tour isn’t just a showcase of great songs. It’s a eulogy of sorts. A love letter. A celebration of the people who made those songs what they were, and the fans who have kept them alive for five decades.
And as the final note fades, and the lights slowly come up, you can see it on people’s faces: they’ve just seen a living legend, not going through the motions, but still delivering the goods.
Was the sound perfect? No. The guitar, criminally, was often too far back in the mix. Erik Grönwall’s vocals deserved more clarity, more spotlight. And yet, despite those technical flaws, the show shone. Because what mattered was there: the songs, the emotion, the connection.
The legend that is Michael Schenker is not simply a virtuoso. He’s a survivor. A craftsman. A visionary who chose melody over machismo, who walked away from commercial success more than once to follow his own compass, fought demons at every turn, but brushed them away. And tonight, standing before a crowd of believers at KK’s Steel Mill, he reminded us why that matters.
There may be younger bands, louder bands, faster bands. But few can claim a catalogue like Schenker’s. Fewer still can step onto a stage 50 years in and play with such passion and purpose.
Tonight was more than a greatest hits package; it was a sonic masterclass. A moment. And for those who were there, it’ll echo in their heads and hearts for a long time to come.
