Review & Photography by Manny Manson for MPM
Friday nights at Stonedead are a different animal to anything else in the UK festival calendar. The main Saturday gets all the headlines with its stacked one-day line-up, but the Friday has grown into a family gathering, a pre-party that’s really more like a secret headline show in its own right. It’s where the anticipation mixes with familiarity, where old mates and new ones collide in the campsite, where Paul Anthony’s voice booms out of the PA like the unofficial town crier of Planet Rock City, and where the air smells like burgers, beer, and that elusive thing called belonging. In 2025 it wasn’t just a warm-up, it was christened “Monster Friday Party,” and as always it was a title that turned out to be no exaggeration.
The sun was dipping low as the party goers filed in, that golden wash over Newark Showground making every plastic pint cup glow amber. The mood was perfect: relaxed but ready to boil over, like everyone had been saving up the week’s tension just for this moment.
The first blast of guitars came from Jayler, those young upstarts who’ve been carving a name with songs that sound like they should have been spinning out of jukeboxes in dingy bars fifty years ago. They had the tricky job of breaking the seal on the night, but from the first thump of Down Below they had the crowd leaning forward, ears pricked, fists pumping. Down Below came out earlier in their catalogue of singles, a slab of raw blues-rock muscle that translates ten times heavier on stage, and hearing it kick open the night felt like someone tearing the wrapper off a long-awaited gift.
No Woman swaggered in next, all smoky riffs and cocky vocals, the sort of song that makes you picture denim flares and cigarette smoke, even though these lads weren’t born until long after that era had passed. It was delivered with so much attitude you could almost believe they’d lived every lyric. The field seemed to sway with them, already swept up in this collision of young blood and old spirit.
Then they pulled out Lovemaker, but not just the single that hit in 2024, no, this was the long version, stretched and teased into something almost decadent. It had that extended jam section where guitars twist around each other like serpents, the kind of indulgence you don’t expect from a band still at the beginning of their story, but it worked because it was soaked in enthusiasm. You could see the band enjoying every second as much as the audience, the smiles on their faces as wide as the necks of their guitars.
And just when you thought you had their measure, they rolled into Riverboat Queen. That one’s still got the shine of newness, having dropped June 29th this year, but live it already feels like a classic in the making. The riff is infectious, the chorus is a fist-pumping shout-along waiting to happen, and the crowd didn’t hold back in giving it that treatment. It was proof that Jayler aren’t just retro kids trying to play dress-up, they’ve got songs with hooks sharp enough to cut through the noise of 2025. Over the Mountain thundered after it, the guitars climbing and tumbling like, well, like mountains, with solos that dared the crowd to keep up.
They wrapped their set with The Rinsk, an oddball closer in name but not in impact. It was the sort of track that leaves you buzzing with the thought, “these guys are going somewhere,” and judging by the roar that followed, the field agreed.
There’s something magical about watching a young band win over a festival crowd. Jayler’s set had all the loose edges and wide-eyed hunger of a group still writing their story, but that’s what made it glorious. They were the sound of tomorrow learning from yesterday, and it was the perfect way to light the fuse for the rest of the night.
When Sweet Electric took the stage, the atmosphere shifted. If Jayler were the kids sneaking into the party, Sweet Electric were the ones dancing on the tables once they got there. They’ve been dropping singles like confetti these past few years, each one a glittering chunk of sleazy, stomping fun, and their set was like emptying that confetti cannon right over our heads.
They opened with Heir to the Throne, one of their earliest singles from 2022, and it still sounds as vital as the day it was released. It’s got that mix of pomp and swagger that makes you grin even before the first chorus. Leading the Blind followed, a little darker in tone, giving the set some grit beneath the gloss, before Killer Katharina slashed into the night. That one, from 2024, has a riff sharp enough to shave with, and the live delivery made it feel like the stage itself might catch fire under the weight of it.
Then came Living It Up, which is exactly what it says on the tin. It’s the sound of Friday night distilled into four minutes, and as the chorus rolled out across the field, you could see arms rising, drinks spilling, and smiles breaking everywhere. When they dropped A Feel Good Love Song, their 2025 single, it was like slipping a little sweetness into the swagger, not too much, just enough to remind everyone that even rock and roll monsters have a soft side.
Somewhere in the Middle gave us a breather, a sway-along that felt almost contemplative, before the band yanked us back into party mode with Party Rock Anthem. That 2024 banger isn’t just a song, it’s a mission statement, and live it hits like a bottle of champagne shaken and sprayed across the front row. Get Up kept the energy high, and then Hard Times, their 2023 bruiser, closed the set with a big stomp that left the field breathless.
Sweet Electric are the kind of band who could play in a shoebox or a stadium and make it feel like the best night of your life. They’re glossy and cheeky, but they’ve got the riffs and the songs to back it up. Watching them at Stonedead, under the gathering dark, felt like watching a glam-rock circus barrel into town, loud, proud, and impossible to ignore.
By the time Tyketto walked on, the crowd was a heaving, sweaty, joy-buzzed mass, primed and ready. And Tyketto didn’t waste a second, they opened with Strength in Numbers, the title track from their 1994 album, and punctuated it with an actual bomb blast of pyro that lit up the night sky and rattled the earth underfoot. It wasn’t just an opening; it was a declaration.
From there, it was one of those sets that reminded you why this band are spoken about with such reverence. Wings, from their 1991 debut Don’t Come Easy, soared as brightly as it did three decades ago, the chorus lifting the whole field on its shoulders. Then came Rescue Me, another gem from Strength in Numbers, its pounding rhythm pulling us all into its orbit.
Summer Days rolled in warm and nostalgic, the kind of song that makes you wish you could bottle the feeling of standing in a field singing with strangers. Mother Mary came after, its spiritual weight filling the air with something close to reverence, before Circle the Wagons and The Run pulled us into the newer chapters, both from 2016’s Reach. These tracks proved that Tyketto aren’t just a nostalgic legacy act, they’re still writing songs that stand shoulder to shoulder with their classics.
And then came the heart-stretchers. Seasons floated out over the crowd, its bittersweet beauty catching people off-guard and leaving more than a few misty-eyed. Heroes Die Young reminded us why Don’t Come Easy is such a beloved record, its defiant spirit resonating even stronger now than it did in ’91. Lay Your Body Down and Standing Alone followed, both from the same album, each one a reminder of how Danny Vaughn can take a lyric and make it feel like it was written just for you. Sail Away came drifting in like a lullaby for the restless, its gentle ache offset by the roar of thousands singing along.
They weren’t done though. Last Sunset, from Strength in Numbers, fell like a curtain closing on the daylight, a poignant moment that seemed to hold the whole field in suspended animation. And then, of course, came Forever Young. You could feel it coming before they even struck the first chord, that collective intake of breath as the crowd prepared to give everything they had left. When it hit, it was electric, the anthem of anthems, the one that makes strangers hug and old friend’s cry. The final pyro blast exploded as the chorus rang out, smoke swirling into the night like the physical embodiment of every memory tied to that song. It wasn’t just a simple closer, it was a promise, a shared vow that no matter how many years pass, some things stay untouchable.
By the end of it, the field was buzzing with that unique blend of exhaustion and elation that only a night like this can deliver. As Paul Anthony spun a few tunes to finish the night we can reflect on the evening. Jayler had given us the raw fire of youth, Sweet Electric the glammed-up sparkle of rock excess, and Tyketto the timeless anthems that bind generations together. Paul Anthony threaded it all with his easy humour and warmth, making the night feel less like a concert and more like a family reunion. It was cheesy, of course, how could it not be, when you’re shouting Forever Young at the top of your lungs in a field as explosive pyro brings it all to an untimely end, but it wasn’t sickly. It was the good kind of cheese, melted and golden, the kind that makes the whole meal worthwhile.
As people drifted back to the campsite, the songs still hummed in their ears, snippets of choruses and riffs spilling out of half-remembered singalongs by the burger vans. Friday night at Stonedead had once again proved itself more than just a warm-up. It was a headline in its own right, a Monster party that justified the name, and a reminder that sometimes the best nights aren’t the ones you plan, but the ones that catch you by the heart and don’t let go.
