Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
“Behind those doors
It’s a wilder ride
You can make a break
You can win or lose
That’s a chance you take?
And the heat’s on you.”
Glen Frey – ‘The Heat Is On’
After a year of patient anticipation, it’s once again that eagerly awaited time of year when 25,000 like-minded souls with an expectance of metallic-based refreshment return to a normally quiet corner in the western fringes of the German state of Saxony-Anhalt. Although Walpurgis Night has been and gone, a few weeks prior, it’s time to take flight with the hard-rocking witches of the Harz.
In the shadow of their Brocken mountain home, twixt the historic towns of Quedlinburg and Ballenstedt, there lies an airfield. One which takes its name from the latter place and for a couple of weeks each year its runway and surrounds transform into the home of the hugely respected Rockharz Festival. This year’s edition, the 31st chapter in the festival’s story, sold out well within a fortnight after last year’s festival; such is the demand to ‘Meet at The Devil’s Wall’ on an annual basis.
Germany, as a nation, has long been a hotbed for metal and rock purists and hosts, across the calendar, countless festivals dedicated purely to this most enduring of genres. Whilst not the country’s largest metal gathering – that honour lies with the likes of Wacken Open Air, Summer Breeze, Rock Am Ring and Rock Am Ring – please be assured that Rockharz well and truly punches far above its weight with stellar headliners and international and homegrown talent from a wide breadth of sub-genres.
As the familiar bulk of the airfield’s gate guardian – a decommissioned C160 Transall military transport aircraft that caused quite a bit of a stir upon its landing here back in 2012 (check Youtube and you’ll see what I mean!) – comes into view there’s a very clear sense of returning home for ourselves. Although this is just our second Rockharz this festival has swiftly endeared itself with its intimate, friendly atmosphere, pride in its identity and inclusivity combined with a continuing seeking of forward-thinking evolution and progression.
The very first improvement we notice is to the traffic management structure; colour coded routings have been clearly communicated and implemented with upscaled signage. Gone are the four to five hour long auto-schlangen (literally translated as car-snake) that plagued entry to the festival site last year; we’re all checked in within an hour of leaving the A36 autobahn. Another new initiative, opening the camping grounds on the Monday, 24 hours earlier than a year previously, has certainly reduced the pressure too.
On the stroke of Wednesday afternoon’s third hour the fortress doors to the ‘Teufelsofen’ are prised open for the opening day. The Devil, clearly distracted from his standard gainful employment of constructing the wall, has turned his attention fully to stoking up the fires with temperatures accelerating through the mid-30s centigrade; later topping out at over 38! Make no bones about it the only way to describe this intense heat is scorchio, very scorchio!
The hordes rush in and quickly the infield fills with an eager anticipation vibing throughout. Unicorns and dinosaurs rub shoulders amidst a sea of standard-issue darkened shades; Rockharz sizzles in the unrelenting sunshine. Mr Jovi reports it’s 99 in the shade, the hottest day of the year thus far, and a meeting with the fabled Sahara Jack and Suntan Sally appears a most realistic of possibilities.
Although Rorkharz’s opening baton had been robustly taken by the satirical grindcore of Excrementory Grindfuckers we opt for something much more within our comfort zone to kick off our festival with. Faroese folk metallers Týr swoop in from their northern climes immersed in their Viking heritage. It’s a safe bet that these extreme temperatures are well above the band’s comfort zone – the highest recorded figure in their native islands is 26.3 °C – but this doesn’t dissuade this rampaging quartet from despatching an explosive 35-minute-long set.
A longtime Rockharz favourite this is Týr’s first appearance here at Ballenstedt since their 2012 slot. Commencing with the instantly detonative ‘By The Sword In My Hand’ Týr are catapulted into the exalted company of the likes of Alestorm, Arch Enemy, Kissin’ Dynamite and Kreator who have all graced the stages of Rockharz on five occasions. The Vikings take to battle with the gigantic Kraken as horns and fists, alike, punch upwards about the already healthy-sized crowd.
Bassist Gunnar H. Thomsen, clearly enthused, punches the air repeatedly whilst alongside frontman Heri Joensen leads his metalliferous platoon with fearsome riffs and a warrior-like purposing. It’s heavyweight following heavyweight with the miasmic fog parting as the longships reach the rocky shoreline disgorging their cargo in the shapely form of the heavy Iron Maiden-soaked ‘Blood of Heroes’. “For tonight we dine in Hell” imparts Joensen as we all swelter in the Hades-like heat.
With seeming ease Joensen and his fellow seven-stringer Hans Hammer trade licks for apparent fun with the spotlight switching to their most recent release ‘Battle Ballads’ for the first time with raging storm of ‘Axes’ that brings a touch of symphonic dramatics in its midst. “Vengeance is my sole concern” roars Joensen leaving one and all in no doubt of collective intentions.
The Nordic mayhem of ‘Mare Of My Night’ ensues slipping into the thunder of the gods of ‘Hammered’ as a most welcome breeze briefly stirs into life. With Joensen raising his right hand aloft the folky metallic intro of ‘Dragons Never Die’ whirls into action. The Pagan / Celtic charms bring Rockharz right onside with a distorted nod towards Avicii’s ‘Hey Brother’ and its channelled patriotic vibe akin to those Visit Scotland ads of years previous.
Demonstrating their folk roots Týr take traditional 18th century Norwegian song ‘Sinklars Visa’ and wrap it up and roll it out in a contrasting metallic covering, a total polar opposite from its origins of nearly 250 years ago. The ‘Grabenschlampen’ (pit security) dampen down the massed ranks with firehoses whilst a couple of snow machines find alternative employment as ‘water cannons’ – further evidence of the elevated levels of attention to detail that the Rockharz organisational team action.
Closing number ‘Hold The Heathen Hammer High’, like their set opener, is craned in from the highly vaunted 2009 album ‘By the Light of the Northern Star’ to produce a neat bookend to an excellent set that has revelled in the hallowed Viking halls. Valhalla awaits with a triumphant embrace.
Switching across from the Rock Stage to the Dark Stage – twin stages, side by side, equal in size and technical specifications have been operated here since 2010 – and with rockets of flames 21st century German metallers April Art announce their arrival and a complete change of musical tack. This is no surprise as this wide variance, beneath the encompassing umbrella of rock/metal, is something at the very beating heart of the dynamics of Rockharz.
Bedecked in vivid red and black outfits the Gießen outfit, having graced Rockharz three years previously, go directly for the jugular with a face melting output (and water pistols!) afront several illuminated palm trees taken off the set of the video of their latest single. What could be more appropriate for the ‘tropical’ heatwave that has befallen us? The sudden heavy-as intro of ‘Break Out’ immediately grabs the attention as red-haired vocalist Lisa-Marie Watz declares “It’s time to break out!” With a Paramore / Infected Rain crossover the tiger’s roar of the opening track instantly identifies this quartet as teetering on the verge of something much bigger.
Last year’s ‘Rodeo’ album made a sizeable dent on the German charts notching a 26 position and three tracks from it wrap themselves about latest single ‘Karma is a Beach’ following the set-opening three-way introspection of 2021’s EP ‘Fighter’. The utter bulldozing ‘Painkiller’ is coupled with the bouncing entity of ‘Break The Silence’ with, in between, Watz greeting the festival masses, genuinely blown away, with a sincere “Hello Rockharz, oh my god!” The latter track a nitrous alloying of League of Distortion and Ignea which proves highly infectious.
A semi-acoustic opening is injected into ‘Head Up High’ which bursts with vividity to the clear delight of the Rockharz ranks. With the first examination of ‘Rodeo’ successfully undertaken attention is focused upon the lively ‘Karma is a Beach’, full of the DNA upon which Joan Jett and Halestorm thrive upon its booming electronic elements alongside deliciously raw guitars ensures a feelgood summery anti-anthem that claws right through the soul. As mini rainbows refract in the spray generated by the super-sized blowers Watz hits up the barrier keen to engage.
The killer-hook of ‘Jackhammer’ competes with the ever-burning sun in the heat stakes before the pounding leviathan ‘Not Sorry’ provides a highly spirited, rousing finale to a pulsating 40 minutes. Extended with truly meaningful crowd participation and an accelerated ‘Master of Puppets’ segment the set-closer goes down a veritable storm.
If there’s justice, then this burgeoning reputation will be realised manyfold with expansion into territories beyond their native Germany; might I be the first to suggest a prime spot at the UK’s Bloodstock festival?
Homegrown power metal quintet Primal Fear, formed in 1997 by ex-Gamma Ray vocalist Ralf Scheepers and bassist Mat Sinner, are the next act to take stewardship of the Rockharz helm and with them comes another shift in course. Power metal stalwarts of the German scene for over quarter of a century, the band have released a total of 14 albums of which just a whisker under half grab some stage-time this most sunny of early evenings. It’s their first post-Covid Rockharz appearance their last being some seven years ago and they’re in a most determined of moods.
They deliver an ingeniously compiled set surely constructed at the hands of an artisan curator possessing the keenness of eye normally reserved for the likes of leading archivists. A half dozen tracks, in banks of three, bestow brief reflective perusals of four of their first five releases bracket a couple of tracks from the mid to late 2010s chapter to give an articulate symmetry to proceedings.
Atop the anguished cry of angels, a solitary bell lonesomely tolls; a melancholic call out across the maelstrom as a sea of fists energetically punches skywards in the still searing airs as early evening begins to encroach. The roar of Magnuss Karlsson (recently returned to live duties with PF following a decade as a ‘studio member’) and Thalia Bellazecca’s (Angus McSix, ex-Frozen Crown) guitars fuse together in an enlivening new six-string pairing. Roused upon the robust bass of Mat Sinner and avalanching drums of André Hilgers it all serves as the ideal herald for vocalist Ralf Scheepers. The conflagrant atmosphere is tinder dry and fully ready for ignition.
A blend of Helloween and Accept the pure Germanic metal of opening number ‘Final Embrace’ – off of PF’s 1999 sophomore album ‘Jaws of Death’ – calls from the darkened crypt. Right away I’m struck with how Scheeper’s air raid siren-like vocals saw him considered as a successor to Judas Priest’s Rob Halford back in the late 90s; something that Priest axeman K.K. Downing makes mention of in his ‘Heavy Duty, Days and Nights in Judas Priest’ autobiography.
Into the present century (in terms of releases) and the speed metal of the title track of ‘Nuclear Fire’ and the capricious brooding of album-opener, and even speedier track, ‘Angel In Black’ prove a pairing worthy of notable accolade. The take no prisoners approach of the sumptuous twin lead six-string of the former along with the high-density melting together of UFO and the Scorpions in the latter this is a band beyond any reproach; one which I cannot wait to see again at a sold out Stonedead Festival back in the UK.
Following that triple-salvo there is not a singular voice of dissent to be heard upon the airfield when Scheepers greets the arena – “Primal Fear, 40 minutes of heavy metal power!” – ahead of the serene regality yet somehow equally resounding ‘King of Madness’. Its opening featuring a tone that doffs a cap in the noble direction of Saxon’s ‘Crusader’ with a sincerity that skilfully, and completely, avoids becoming merely a wretched photocopy of the original.
The earthquaking ‘The End Is Near’ provides the bridge into the second half of the set. The track’s demonic screams unleash lightning strikes all about as Rockharz melts in the firm grasp of the Underworld. Its oh-so sweet neo-classical overtures possess a gregarious touch of vintage Ozzy and Rockharz reverentially lap it up.
There’s a fleeting moment for the band to take it all and soak up the thoroughly deserved Rockharz seal of approval before launching into the venomous strike that is ‘Chainbreaker’. A touch of Maiden-esque prog metal mixed in with more than a daub of the mighty Priest that is as equally blistering as the current meteorological events.
The rasping Judas Priest influenced ‘Metal Is Forever’ receives a mighty reception afore Primal Fear wrap up a hugely fiery set with classic NWOBHM vibrancy of ‘Running In The Dust’. Is there ever a more apt anthem for this day? Despite the absolute best efforts of one and all in ‘watering’ the infield throughout the dust kicks up with the enthusiasm imparted across the infield. This beserker metal, replete with Scheeper’s banshee-like vocals, brings their fine set to a correspondingly fine end.
Running just over a quarter of an hour late, due to technical difficulties that appear to be sound related, Italian symphonic power metallers Rhapsody of Fire are up against from the off having to condense their set into the remaining 30 minutes allotted to them. To their absolute credit they do this with nothing in the way of negativity and an absolute truckload of joyous intensity even minus bassist Alessandro Sala who has been unable to make the trip to Germany.
With their roots in the formation of Thundercross, back in 1993, challenges have plagued this outfit with name changes and band splits throughout large swathes of the band’s career. A seemingly never-ending revolving door of musicians about sole remaining founding member Alex Staropoli, an enigmatic figure behind his keyboard, has been stabilised in the last few years. A period of cohesiveness only bettered by a nine year stretch that began in 2002. Remarkably amongst the turbulence a weighty arsenal of 14 albums has been released.
Rockharz continues to bake as the fireball in the sky commences its descent towards the western horizon whilst the comprising quintet are introduced as “valiant warriors who battle evil” by their intro tape (not their usual ‘The Dark Secret’ intro which has been eschewed probably due to the constraints of timings). A rather tasty consummation of Yngwie Malmsteen and Within Temptation the opening opus ‘Unholy Warcry’ is heartily received by a patient Rockharz crowd.
The heraldic landscape of grandiose lyrics and theatrical flair continues into the rousing spirit of ‘Rain of Fury’ that gallops along at a fair lick with more than a touch of Helloween immersed in a West End musical all enveloped in the serenity of a swallow – speed and grace in one spellbinding package. The melodic symphonic opus of ‘I’ll Be Your Hero’ takes centre stage afore the folky metallics of ‘The March of the Swordmaster’ sees Rockharz bouncing along.
An imperious cannonade ‘Dawn of Victory’ rampages along and bears witness to a tornadic circle pit opening up; even with the evening proceeding the sun remains high above the distant peak of the Brocken out to the west, the dust kicked up by rotational bodies does nothing to obscure the unrelenting rays. Wide-ranging vocalist Giacomi Voli punches his heart as he salutes the crowd; it’s emphatic stuff for sure.
With a folky fringe to its powered output the sprint of ‘Emerald Sword’ all too soon draws a conclusion to RoF’s curtailed set. Although Rockharz has received 30 minutes I know I’ve seen sufficient herein to ensure that I indulge in further of this outfit in the future. Imagine a theatrical version of Dragonforce, one which weaves conceptual fantasy lyrics with equally high-end metal and you’re well on your way to the flamboyant realms that Rhapsody of Fire inhabit.
After taking an extended break, through the following three bands, to fully rehydrate, cool down and generally ensure our wellbeing we return to the arena in time for Finnish semi-classical / semi-metalliferous troupe Apocalyptica to fully shred up the following sixty minutes with their homage to the behemothic might of Metallica. An incredible feat, in my book, given that this quadrumvirate of Scandinavians comprises three cellists accompanied by one drummer.
It’s fully 30 years since the first, and to date only time, I’ve seen Metallica live but the moment the haunting Ennio Morricone composition ‘The Ecstasy of Gold’ begins I’m instantly catapulted back to standing inside the Castle Donington circuit readying myself to be totally annihilated by a band at the absolute pinnacle of their powers. Like that night the hairs on the back of neck stand to attention, the only difference is this evening that we will witness how close the realms of heavy metal and classical, from the latter’s perspective actually are.
The maybugs dance in the cooling dusk as clouds build up to the southwest beyond the Harz Forest serving as a potential portent to the possibility of some very welcome overnight precipitation. Above a waxing half-moon has reached its first quarter as thunder rolls forth from the Dark Stage, ominous tones quakingly rumble as one by one the four components of Apocalyptica file on stage.
On a moodily illuminated stage classical and metal embrace as opening number ‘Ride The Lightning’ gets proceedings off to a spinetingling commencement. Perttu Kivilaakso raises his horns as he and his colleagues strike right off the scale from the off. Hands wave side to side elevated above the heads of the assembled crowd in time to the mellow segment of this 41-year-old track; sometimes things are simply timeless.
What follows is nothing short of stunning, a tribute like no other to one of the most influential bands that rose from the 80s. Selected slices mainly selected from the first five Metallica albums form the core of the set; it’s what elevated these four Finns into the spotlight with their 1996 debut ‘Plays Metallica by Four Cellos’.
Rockharz sing word-perfect, at the request of Kivilaakso, to the ever spectacular ‘Enter Sandman’ as the clouds begin to thicken with the tempestuous call emanating from the PA, co-founding bass cellist Paavo Lötjönen, leaning over the stage front, beckons the ranks into further action as the tubthumping despatch radiates. The deeper into the set we journey thus the boundaries between the contrasting elements further blends and melts away. A spellbinding ‘Creeping Death’ takes on a galloping stampede as a cooling breeze shifts across the festival grounds.
With the tolling of a lone bell there’s just one track that could possibly follow and we’re returned to the seminal ‘Ride The Lightning’ epic with a cataclysmically blinding ‘For Whom The Bell Tolls’. Anyone doubting the metal ‘worthiness’ of the cello should doubt no more as Kivilaakso roars “Let’s fucking go!” as he and his sidekicks despatch a heads down, no-nonsense, balls-to-the-wall version.
With the band silhouetted by some serious back lighting we stray, for the only time this evening, away from Metallica’s first decade with rasping ‘St. Anger’. It’s brooding and melancholic in balanced parts and undeniably captivating. Without missing a beat ‘Blackened’ takes over the reins seamlessly. Lötjönen’s fellow co-founder Eicca Topppinen takes the central stage for a sterling ‘Master Of Puppets’. It’s as epic as Eddie Munson’s rooftop delivery in Stranger Things and so ably demonstrates that nearly 40 years is still as relevant as upon its day of inception. Kivilaakso ‘throttles’ a killer solo taking the track into new dimensions that defy the known laws of physics. With an outro detonation so this masterclass is drawn to an explosive conclusion.
“Whistling with a cello could be interesting” Kivilaakso muses as he considers a version of ‘Wind of Change’ if the wind doesn’t stop. It is most serious of business but there is time sufficient for injections of humour. ‘Seek & Destroy’, the oldest track in the set, is ‘attacked’ with zeal and static energy crackles enthusiastically. Magically the cloud above breaks and stars shine through.
Seated the triumvirate of cellists ramp the atmospherics further upwards with the artillery burst despatch of ‘One’ not exhibiting one jot of diminishment. The impactful lyrics are as meaningful as the day penned; perhaps even more so given the parlous state of the present-day world. It’s fist bumps and hugs all about as the band take their thoroughly deserved adoration at just after 11pm following an hour of the finest classical Metallica covers. Let’s face it the likes of Bach, Beethoven, and Dvořák can be retrospectively considered the headbangers of their era.
Less than ten minutes after Apocalyptica victoriously depart the Rockharz stage so the headline slot is readied for the British NWOBHM outfit Saxon. A booming intro, a foretelling of the battle between good and evil, reverberates about a darkened stage, a platform respectfully awaiting the arrival of these five hard-rocking individuals who, as a collective, have navigated times of both strife and success. The term legend is banded about far too simply nowadays in fits of nostalgia, but Saxon are simply that.
Literally just a few days prior an official band statement was released announcing the immediate cancellation of 10 summer shows and festival appearances due to iconic singer Biff Byford undergoing an emergency procedure. Including prestigious slots at Pol’And Rock, Wacken Open Air and Summer Breeze the dates, mercifully didn’t include the band’s top-of-the-bill commitments here at Ballenstedt.
For 25,000 Rockharzers this appearance will be the band’s last before Biff receives the treatment he evidently requires. Amidst the reverent appreciation of the fine spectacle received in their allotted 80 minutes there’s an additional tsunamic wave of well wishes rightfully swelling throughout. There are no visible signs of whatever it is ailing Biff and little mention of it too; that’s the working-class grit one associates with this proud Yorkshire establishment.
With formation 50 years ago there’s a mightily impressive 24 studio albums, plus a couple of cover albums, stowed in the back catalogue. Just as impressive is the prominent levels of modern-day relevance that this industrious outfit maintains whilst simultaneously being cited as influencing or inspiring a wide breadth of bands from Mötley Crüe to Metallica via Dream Theatre. A third of those albums are showcased tonight and quite incredibly there’s eight title tracks sprinkled through the duration of the 15-song set.
It’s with the bone crunching precise titular number of last year’s release ‘Hell, Fire and Damnation’ that the pace is set with Byford’s demonic scream. Saxon are a well-oiled machine with each component well versed; evergreen bassist Nibbs Carter is up and down, on and off the frontline whist Byford cups his ear beckoning to the massed assembly; not that they require any encouraging though as the arena threatens to erupt. Recent addition to the ranks Brian Tatler wrings one heck of a solo from his trademark Gibson Flying V afore handing over the baton to fellow six-stringer Doug Scarratt who returns the compliment.
Further title tracks following in the high revving form of ‘Power and the Glory’, as the clock is wound back a fraction over 40 years, and the unrelenting, immovable force that is ‘Dogs of War’. Rockharz is shaken right to the core by the forces employed in this metalliferous ram-raid. The aptly well-honed ‘Madame Guillotine’ dovetails, with accuracy, amidst several tracks plucked from the band’s highly fecund early 80s chapter.
The V-twin of ‘Motorcycle Man’ timelessly purrs with the throttle pulled right back. Before unleashing a triplet from 1980’s gold-certified ‘Strong Arm of the Law’ Byford and Co. take a moment to savour the electrifying atmosphere they have generated. ‘Heavy Metal Thunder’, a veritable storm, passes swiftly by in a blur of hair prior to Carter brings in the anthemic ‘Dallas 1 PM’. The hat-trick is rounded off with the title track (what else right?) itself. Byford muscles in shoulder to shoulder with Carter, Tatler and Scarratt in time-honoured tradition; so many owe so much to Saxon.
The exultant ‘1066’ is a slight, but welcome, surprise inclusion and shows how highly thought of ‘Hell, Fire and Damnation’ is thought of within the band’s ranks. “C’mon, let’s go!” exclaims Byford before the quintet launches into predatory strike of ‘Solid Ball of Rock’. As the midnight hour approaches it’s apparent that Saxon have plenty of juice left in their tank.
Written about 1980’s Monsters of Rock festival, sparking an annual event that became renown as a metal mecca, ‘And The Bands Played On’ is, to this day, an utter undeniable classic capturing a pivotal moment in time. Something that raw and bleeding anthem ‘Denim and Leather’ does in bucketloads too. Sadly, gone are the days of popping down to the local record store and reading news/reviews in Kerrang! or the NME; how times change yet somehow Saxon remain an appreciable dynamic.
The muscular metal of ‘Wheels of Steel’ whips up Rockharz a total treat with Byford videoing the crowd “This is our last show for some fucking time as you know” he sagely notes. It’s the only reflection on his forthcoming treatment. The unbridled anthemic joy of 1984’s ‘Crusader’ blasts forth before the curtain is brought down by the evocative earthquake of ‘Princess of the Night’. Its pure racing steel raises the metaphorical roof with consummate ease; the thunderous despatch garners a marvellous reception as eyes begin to turn to the planned end of August return. Saxon have played a blinder and presented a rich high-grade metalliferous masterclass. It was never in doubt to be honest.
Photography by Kelly Spiller for MPM
