Review by Gary Spiller for MPM
Now that the festival is into its second half, I’ve reached the point where I’m not entirely sure what day it is anymore. This morning, after two days of much metalliferous variance, it certainly feels like Friday is the new Saturday. Weekends lasting three or four days, well you won’t find any complaints here as I always believed that there is an imbalance created by too many weekdays. One thing that is certain, however, is that the ‘Sold Out’ signs are up once again, like the preceding two days, with day tickets selling out over a fortnight in advance of the day.
The weather forecast is assured with today being the only day with no hint of any rain across the duration of the festival. However, there is a strong wind to contend with that brings challenges for stage and sound crew alike. We’re blown merrily across the empty infield as we head to our ‘stations’ for the forthcoming merriment and mayhem.
With a full 16 bands on the roster Friday commences even earlier than the previous two days. The day commences at 1120am, with the redneck rampage of Rodeo 5000. You can’t beat a good old-fashioned slobberknocker to get the day underway and clear the blurriness. Founded by the familiar face of Simon Erichsen – the singer who puts the Hurley into Rockharz favourites Mr. Hurley & Die Pulveraffen – there’s an eclectic array of not just instruments but headwear too.
A singular glance at the motley crew gathering onstage, to a western infused intro, and you can swiftly conclude that the following half an hour is gone be hell of a riot. Amidst the ‘standard’ rock band fare instrument-wise there is a banjo, a violin and I swear blind I noticed a washboard. However, it’s the cranial attire that wins the contest hands down. Of course, there are cowboy hats and bandanas but the pièce de resistance, for my satisfaction, is the drummer’s racoon hat; a thing of absolute beauty.
Distant bells toll and with banjos firmly plucked it’s right on with the show. An indubitable foot-stomper ‘Rodeo 5000’ – the band’s late 2024 debut single – is a jaunty refrain of the badlands. Think The Dukes of Hazzard encountering hard rock ethos at a dusty crossroads. With a good deal of farmyard noises and a slice of 70s comedy essence (weirdly Benny Hill’s ‘Ernie’ comes to mind) ‘Pestizide’ rollicks about fervently. Beer is swilled for breakfast and there are smiles all around with this Germanic redneck frivolity.
We reach out for the keys to the flatbed Ford and take a swig of moonshine straight out of the still for the jolly hillbilly ramble of ‘Splitternacht I’m Pickup Truck’. The brightly coruscant tumble ‘Hoch die Becher’ follows as the entertainment continues to flow unabated. It’s a rodeo romp fuelled impressively by violin and banjo alike especially in ‘Die Hammer’. A plushie penis bobs about, above head height, in the crowd and somehow doesn’t appear out of place adjacent to a neighbouring unicorn.
Rockharz has certainly enjoyed in its morning hoedown and a particularly rumbustious ‘Mein Stammbaum ist ein Kreis’ cranks up the riot levels. With a yee-haw and yippee-ki-yay this beer and bourbon fuelled hustle draws to a close leaving a large morning crowd thoroughly invigorated.
From the deep south we emerge into an arenaceous clime with the uncomplicated lines of Mönchengladbach’s Motorjesus. Founded nearly 40 years ago under the rather charming moniker The Shitheadz the band’s revolving door of members stabilised somewhat just over a decade ago. This coincided with a gradual steady climb up the German album charts with the last two albums – ‘Hellbreaker’ and ‘Streets of Fire’ – both achieving midway positions in the top 40.
The five-piece arrive slightly early on stage and set about, with little fuss, giving Rockharz a stiff shake by the scruff of the neck. It’s gone noon so such behaviour is not only permitted but strongly encouraged. Heading back to 2014’s ‘Electric Revelation’ the opening brace of ‘Trouble in Motorcity’ and ‘Dead Army’ haul us into the granular, dusty heart of the wastelands. “There’s no escape” growls vocalist Chris Birz somewhat ominously. However, the band’s brand of desert metal is proving to the midday Rockharzers, and no-one is seeking a way out.
Motorjesus’ no thrills, no nonsense barrage of caustic riffage is proving more than palatable fare for the hardy lunchtime gathering. The hard driving ‘Somewhere From Beyond’ oozes classic NWOBHM from every pore with the track’s guitar solo sparking furiously. An admin error is recovered from before a note is raised in anger with combustible ‘Fist of the Dragon’ being correctly slotted in prior to the rampant, crushing might of ‘Hellbreaker’.
The stoner rock of ‘Motor Discipline’ is hauled in from the gates of Hades with oodles of Desert Storm and Clutch to feed the masses. Its fearsome thunder burns rubber tearing up the asphalt with abandon. It’s clearly a track regarded, by fans and band alike, as a signature one and is an apt set-closer to bring a triumphant end to a monstrous half hour of humongous, honest rocking n’ rolling.
There are times when the wheel doesn’t require reshaping merely a wee tweak here and there; sometimes all that is needed is some cans of beer, followed by an inflatable tyre, launched into the crowd. This is one of those times and Motorjesus, to their absolute credit, have delivered by the truckload.
Something I 100% adore with Rockharz is the breadth and depth of bands the festival booking team consolidate for our perusal and enjoyment. Whilst there is always a given respect for the legends and might of historical tomes there is always an eye cast upon those who are about to pen new chapters. It’s early afternoon and all those gathered afront the Rock Stage are about to be firmly hoisted into the 21st century with the modern melodic death metal stylings of the intensely metalliferous Osnabruck quintet Hiraes.
Although in the infancy of their career, having released two albums since formation in 2020, this is a band that is far removed from being described as an overnight sensation. What we see before us this afternoon came together when the one-time instrumental quadrumvirate of Dawn of Disease and Britta Görtz (former singer of Cripper) joined forces. Both elements had released five albums apiece but had hit the metaphorical buffers in musical terms.
When a band says, “See you in the pit!” you don’t normally take those words quite literally. However, this is precisely what occurs during the rage of ‘We Owe No One’ when Görtz and guitarist Oliver Kirchner hop into the midst of the circle pit By this stage, three tracks into a set of storming magnitudes, the Rockharzers are pretty much whipped right up by the five piece’s battering ram onslaught. The strongest of fortifications wouldn’t withstand the colossal output of Hiraes.
Görtz and Kirchner eventually emerge unscathed from the pit, with to finish off the stirring heraldic metalcore of ‘We Owe No One’. The third of a triplet of selections from most recent release ‘Dormant’ it follows in the turbulent wake left by the opening numbers ‘Through The Storm’ and ‘About Lies’. A hat-trick that lays waste to all about, each track leaving its organic fingerprint in the mayhem created. Spontaneously chanting the band’s name Rockharz expresses its feelings for them.
The commanding march of ‘Solitary’ and the atramentous ‘Dormant’ – the two title tracks that Hiraes possess – neatly bracket the hyper-velocity metal of what I believe to be ‘Nightflight’. Combining melodic shafts of light with darkened layers right from the raging abyss works so well for Hiraes and demonstrates why the might of Napalm Records is right behind them.
I’m totally ensnared by the time the accelerator crashes through the floor for ‘Under Fire’ rises from the pyre. Its breakdown is to die for and packs an almighty strike that unleashes one hell of a slap. With a gentle intro that ramps up in scale of intensity ‘Undercurrent’ is the tastiest of melodic morsels. Within the space of two Rockharz appearances, just twelve months apart, Britta Görtz has firmly established, in my mind, herself at the spearhead of 21st century metal vocalists. After witnessing her emphatic guesting for 2025 headliners Heaven Shall Burn it’s great to get the context of her amidst the skilled ranks of Hiraes. With day three headliners Kreator awaiting in the shadows there is, naturally, more of Görtz to come.
We are slap bang in the middle of the afternoon but the shadows increase in their dimensions and a deepening pitch-blackness descends. A sepulchral tone is set in readiness for Norwegian gothic metallers Gothminister, the first international band of Rockharz’s third day. A singular skull, adorning the mic stand, scans out across the fields of the festival and beyond from its commanding perch. Motionless as the fabled gargoyles of Cologne’s cathedral an underworldly serenity is emitted.
The majestic intro spreads its leathery wings as smoke sweeps across a red bathed stage; an ethereal gothic female voice shepherds the Scandinavian quartet stagewards. Having released eight albums (six of which are represented here this afternoon) since formation in 1999 this is a band that is considered a stalwart of the industrial metal scene. Delivering a rock-solid fusion of machinery, electronica and gothica they hold a reverential place in Germany’s metal scene with several singles hitting the top ten of the German alternative charts.
Commencement is with the set-opening theatrics of ‘Darkest Side of Earth’, one of five singles released ahead of the forthcoming ninth long-player ‘We Are All Demons’, confirming that the darker side has, indeed, arrived. A haunting blend of Paradise Lost and High Parasite the track sets the scene for the rest of the set.
Unstoppable as the seismic forces of an earthquake Gothminister roll right into the industrial darkened metal of ‘I Am The Devil’. Infectious and instantly accessible the Devil’s Wall itself quakes as vocalist, and driving force, Bjørn Alexander Brem prophesises mid-track “The land will be yours again.” A foreshadowing of Satan’s intent in these parts perhaps?
Dashes of Mono Inc phosphoresce intermittently through the electrifying gothic of ‘Demons’ as Rockharz, captivated, absorb every drop of darkness. Possessing a touch of symphonic, in the vein of Orden Ogan, melded with NDH ‘Ich Will Alles’ takes a bow as a million stars salute. A Cimmerian conjuring ‘Star’ kicks with a Rammstein-ish infection that ensnares before heading into the compelling despatch of ‘The Sun’. An intriguing alloy of Mono Inc and Gary Numan being drawn under by its vortex is not up for negotiation.
Taken to the ‘Darkside’ Rockharz is enshrouded in a monochromatic landscape as signatures are requested upon the metaphorical dotted line. The underworld arises snarling with talons clawing in the ferocious ‘Dusk Till Dawn’. Infernal forces are put to employ and give an insightful glimpse of the afterlife. After a few gremlins rearing their ugly heads in yesterday’s sound mix it’s worthy of note that today, thus far, has been gifted with an exemplary balance.
Coupling a Sisters of Mercy underpinning with Neue Deutsche Härte in ‘Liar’ sees two centuries spectacularly collide in a track that is able to revive the most despondent of spirits. Brem enquires “Are you ready for one more?” before he and his darkened legions deliver two final numbers. Demonic abominations are untethered in the high velocities of ‘Battle of the Underworlds’ ahead of the crowning finale of ‘Monsters’. I can be extremely grateful for yet another fine introduction courtesy of Rockharz that I’m happily taking home with me, danke schön.
One overriding thing I keep noticing is Rockharz’s loyalty to bands who have been longtime advocates of the festival. Another noteworthy observation is that the German metalheads are, on the whole, rather partial to a drop or five of Irish Folk; whether it be punked up, sped up or metalled up doesn’t matter one jot as it all goes down a veritable storm.
In the later hours of the festival’s third afternoon we reach a point of conjunction of these two elements. Notching up their seventh set at Rockharz, equalling the mark of fun metallers and fellow Erlangeners J.B.O., are speed-folksters Fiddler’s Green. The festival ‘genre-o-meter’ is swinging wildly; we’ve gone from an early morning hoedown via metalcore to a tea-time Celtic knees-up and Rockharz appears to be well oiled for the occasion. Hailing from Erlangen, the smallest of Bavaria’s eight cities, this industrious sextet, with over 2000 gigs to their name, celebrated their 35th anniversary last year.
The intro tape combination of firstly ‘Nellie the Elephant’ and then ‘I Want To Be Irish’ is an ingenious couplet. Both are firmly rooted in the punk ethos and encapsulate the band’s carefree outlook. Emerging to the latter the six-piece are right into the melting pot with the Celtic broth of trad Irish number ‘P Stands For Paddy’. There’s foot stomping and whirling aplenty as Rockharz is stirred into further shenanigans.
To the punked-up party anthem of ‘Bottoms Up’ the arena bounces along upon the Devil’s dancefloor. This could so easily be Dropkick Murphys or Flogging Molly onstage such is the strength of conviction emitted. We’re persuaded to get ‘Down’ upon our creaking knees for some Pogues-infused mayhem blended with a spicy dash of ‘Bella ciao’ lobbed in for good measure. Why have just a single measure when a triple is on offer?
The graphic nature of the traditional anti-war folk song ‘Mrs. McGrath’ gets a rousing re-working and deservedly garners a hearty reception. The band are in full flow and top gear for the Irish road-tripping full-on romp of ‘A Night In Dublin’; they need to be and Rockharz respond in kind. Channelling Flogging Molly and adding The Pogues into the conflagrant brew ‘A Good Old Irish Bar’ that is from the same riotous vein as ‘Seven Drunken Nights’.
Matters are momentarily slowed down a wee bit with the wistful strains ‘Green and Fellows’; being proud of my Cornish ancestry I can relate to the lyrics relating to the pull of homelands. After dropping down a couple of gears the accelerator is pressed down for the breakneck speeds of rattling rocker ‘The Bog’. There’s utter mayhem with violinist Tobias Heindl getting in on the surfing lark aboard an inflatable dinghy remaining ‘afloat’ for the first part of the merry jaunt of ‘Yindy’. The frenzied ‘Victor and His Demons’ ratchets up as the town is painted several shades of red afore an all-out rocking re-imagining of ‘The Wild Rover’ brings the curtain down upon a fine three quarters of an hour of speed-folk that takes us carousing into the early evening in ship shape and Bristol fashion.
It’s incredibly rare for a band to come close to engaging my ire, especially one that I’ve been looking forwards to seeing for the first time in thirty years. My only time I had caught Brooklyn hardcore / hip-hop crossover legends Biohazard was at the final Monsters of Rock at Castle Donington back in 1996, the band were in their uber prime and the thought of butting heads with them once more was a tantalising one for sure.
However, not all reunions go completely to plan, and this is one that sadly falls in that particular category. It’s not their music, far from the case as the band succeed in crushing Rockharz, their tracks are still rammed full of energy and urban grit. However, for no readily apparent reason the four-piece abruptly end their set fully eight minutes ahead of their allotted time. Following seven tracks of to the brim intensity I’m left feeling somewhat short-changed to the tune of a couple of numbers.
Of course, there are a number of plausible explanations, such as technical failures, logistical issues, health complications and so forth, but nothing is readily apparent or forthcoming in the time following what was, when considered in isolation, a storming of the bastions set. Biohazard lay down their initial marker with the utilisation of the ‘Rocky’ theme ‘Gonna Fly Now’ as a mettlesome intro. The feral alleyway hounds step out into the main thoroughfare ready for a takeover.
Springing right into action vocalist/bassist Evan Seinfeld declares “We’re Biohazard motherfuckers!” before instructing “Germany I want to see you front to back, side to side as one!” They’re headlong into the thrashing megalopolitaness of the cobra strike of ‘Urban Discipline’. The title-track of their million-selling second album is rammed full of slamming breakdowns and pays respect to the likes of Suicidal Tendencies and Hatebreed. Rockharz is fully pumped up and rightfully so.
The inspection of ‘Urban Discipline’ continues with the bare-chested rage of ‘Shades of Grey’; in fact, five of the seven tracks that set about demolishing Rockharz are drawn from this release. No doubt it’s an album held in high regard by the band; it was their first commercial success and most certainly threw them a vital lifeline at a time when they hadn’t long negotiated out of a deal with Maze Records. Released via Roadrunner in 1992 ‘UD’ proved a springboard for a contract with Warner Bros. and further elevations.
An untamed reflection on the perilous state of the world currently ‘Fuck The System’ is unmuzzled from last year’s ‘Divided We Fall’, a super-charged battering ram this is a track that undeniably possesses a burning furor. A behemothic middle finger to ‘the man’. The nitrous-fuelled buzzsawing of ‘Wrong Side of the Tracks’ sees a massive pit spinning seemingly out of control. Guitarist Billy Graziadei, down on the barrier, gets a closer look at the action that this heavyweight brawler has sparked off. They’re clearly satisfied as Seinfeld notes “Danke schön, we love you motherfuckers!”
The arena erupts, reacting to the bludgeoning of ‘Black and White and Red All Over’ a pointed critique of racism that holds relevance over 30 years after its penning. Its barbed words are carried along by a torrent of chainsawing metallic foreshadowing. Creating outward emanating shockwaves, the brutal ‘Punishment’ results in a sizeable blast radius that paves the way for the set-closing rock-crushing ‘Hold My Own’. For anyone wondering as to what fully body-slamming a juggernauting freight train feels like you needn’t look any further.
Without further ado the curtain is drawn as outro ‘No Sleep Til Brooklyn’ sounds forth and we’re left feeling a touch deceived by the shortened set. This is clearly a choosing from within the band’s structure as Rockharz doesn’t adjust its scheduling accordingly; the band following goes onstage as per the timetabling so there’s time sufficient for a couple more tracks if Biohazard had chosen. Why they didn’t has left me somewhat baffled; the Brooklyners had whipped up a total storm and Rockharz was revelling in their pugilistic might. Whilst a shade perplexed, I’m more than willing to understand should it prove that there is a rationale for this choice that reveals itself in time. One thing is for sure that Biohazard have lost none of their impact, they sure as heck still pack one hell of a punch.
Charged with, what could be considered in these parts, the somewhat unusual task of rousing the arena from a slightly extended break – proceedings normally run with total precision here at Rockharz – Californians P.O.D. step into the breech. Under bright mid-evening skies, a western-styled intro breaks the hushed quiet that had begun to threaten blanketing Rockharz momentarily. Brass instruments strike a forbidding tone across the arid sand prior to vocalist Sonny Sandoval bounces onstage with an introductory “Wazzup Rockharz? Let’s go!”
The anthemic ‘Boom’ kickstarts the set in emphatic fashion with its classic nu-metal lines. Trucked in from the multi-platinum album ‘Satellite’ it ensures a Rockharz eruption on a scale dwarfing the might of Krakatoa. The affable Sandoval is an instantly likeable character with an effusive nature, fronting the band with an energetic, wholesome presence.
An ocean of raised hands from a seething arena greets the flow of urgency that is ‘Rock the Party (Off the Hook)’. Whilst, on the whole, nu-metal, and its general bagginess, never truly grabbed me in any particular way (in fact, Limp Bizkit and the repulsive wannabe frat boy Fred Durst especially provided a turn-off) P.O.D.’s sleekness proves to myself that one can be late to the party and catch up on the pace as the Stateside inner-city streets are teleported to this relatively rural corner of Germany.
Acerbic mosher ‘Murdered Love’ packs a redolence of both Hatebreed and Suicidal Tendencies. “Remember me” implores Sandoval as he thrashes his red mic wire wildly. Tremendous levels of energy are generated by the infernal rage of ‘Drop’. The otherworldly slamming of ‘I Got That’ provides a non-stop onslaught upon all the senses. With a brief snippet of ‘Helter Skelter’ P.O.D. swerve into a less anticipated cover of The Beatles’ ‘Don’t Let Me Down’. The band’s soulful underpinning tempers the quaking angst in ‘Satellite’ demonstrating a gentler side.
Tameless seismicity runs amok during ‘I Won’t Bow Down’ as a crowdsurfer cascades over the barrier in a wheelie bin. Sandoval, clearly impressed, states “That is the coolest thing I’ve seen all tour” adding his endorsement “If you can ride a trashcan, you can ride anything!” Surfing a tempestuous tsunamic surge ‘Soundboy Killa’, replete with elements of Faith No More, goes a long way proving a single shot is all that is required.
With a stacked back catalogue what startles me is that it’s only courtesy of this band’s impressive showing at Download a few weeks ago that I’ve connected with them. Talk about being late to the party, over 25 years late in fact. The dam bursts in the full throttle ‘Southtown’ ahead of the emphatic ‘Youth of the Nation’. The latter, despite its heavy density, bounces along and Rockharz, firmly onside, lustily sings the track’s title.
Binding of souls the rally call of ‘Afraid to Die’ demonstrates there is plenty of life remaining in this particular rock n’ roll hound. With time for one last hurrah, no short-changing herein, any infection control protocols that are in place are breached by the overriding contagions of signature track ‘Alive’. This is a band who, to myself, appeal rather than repel and I, for one, am grateful for the couple of occasions, this summer, I have had to see them live. It’s been P.O.D.’s first time at Rockharz but it will not surprise me if it’s not their last.
With a career in rock n’ roll stretching back to the start of this century perennial hard rocking party animals Airbourne have continuously defied all the gauntlets thrown in their direction. Unashamedly derived from a particular influence they have strived hard to bring hard rock back to the people and to more intimate settings rather than soulless corporate stadium events seemingly beloved of a certain generation of outfits.
This is blue collar rock n’ roll and something that strikes a resonant chord with the band and their fans alike. To hell with the gatekeepers and critics who mock the quartet for being carbon copies. Rather than the band themselves this negativity is where the repetitiveness actually lies. Ignoring these sleights Airbourne have forged a band-of-the-people identity that is squarely theirs and theirs only; being a Quo fan back in the day I can relate to this. It’s a gimmick-free one that brings rock n’ roll firmly to basics, a get out on stage grab it by the balls and give it everything sort of an approach that has punters returning time and time again.
As the glowing solar sphere, out towards the west begins to dip below the horizon a large crowd has gathered in front of the Dark Stage. Metallica’s ‘Seek & Destroy’ barrels from the PA as techs bustle about. It’s a classic most apt for Airbourne, a band who have laid waste to many a stage over the years. As cymbals clatter and AC/DC inspired riffs flame, so Rockharz claps along in expectation.
Bare-chested Joel O’Keeffe storms on stage punching the air wildly with abandon. The instantaneous artillery barrage is the very definition of no-nonsense and the initial heavyweight impact of ‘GUTSY’ – the lead single from the forthcoming eponymous studio release – is trademark Airbourne. There are sharp harmonies across the frontline and balls are firmly pinned to the wall as hot metal sparks fly.
Rockharz gleefully receives its first ‘machine-gunning’ from Joel as matters roll right into the snarling and growling antipodean leviathan ‘Too Much, Too Young, Too Fast’ that lacks any compromise whatsoever. The beers quite literally fly and whilst the air cools with the setting sun, so the atmosphere begins to heat right up with the band stoking the furnace to melting point. The track’s flamboyant finale is just how rock n’ roll was designed.
With stabbing riffs and a pulverising low end ‘Hungry’ is the veritable hyper-paced wrecking ball. Ballenstedt tremors, something feels like it’s going to blow as truckloads of crowdsurfers ‘go over’. Having just embarked a packed summer schedule Airbourne are lean in sound and appearance; ahead lies a couple of months of criss-crossing Europe including slots at Wacken and Maiden’s Eddfest at Knebworth. This is a band who isn’t shy of a bit of graft; hard touring goes hand in hand with hard gigging!
Sirens wail with planes unseen high above as air raid sirens are cranked into action as Joel lobs beer crowdwards prior to the typically wild ‘Live It Up’. The hard trucking ‘Raise The Flag’ follows with Joel, atop a roadie’s shoulders, shooting off into the crowd. It’s feral and raw hard rock and there’s no complaints to be heard. Wielding Satan’s battering ram Airbourne scale tortuous heights with ‘Breakin’ Outta Hell’. It’s all in a day’s work for these Aussies.
Melding a foundation of Chuck Berry with a structuring of AC/DC results in the anarchic ‘Ready To Rock’. Searing six-stringing reaches out and electrocutes without mercy. The highway rocking of ‘Alive After Death (Last Plane Out)’ gives a further tantalising glimpse into the forthcoming album. The showstopping finale of ‘Runnin’ Wild’ serves up hand-grenades for dessert. Rockharz are fully primed and one thing that is beyond any debate is that Kreator have one hell of a job in front of them.
Alongside Destruction, Sodom and Tankard this evening’s headliners Kreator are considered one of the ‘Big Four’ of Teutonic thrash metal and hold a highly reverential status here at Rockharz. Formed in 1982 in the Ruhr heartlands of Essen Kreator are, like Ensiferum on this year’s opening day, racking up their sixth appearance here at Ballenstedt; no higher acclaim is necessary in my humblest opinion.
Having shifted in excess of 2 million units in album sales Kreator have seen a renaissance in terms of chart positions with their last four releases, including 2017’s chart-topping ‘Gods of Violence’, all gatecrashing the hallowed territory of the top five of the German album charts. Signing to Nuclear Blast at the beginning of 2010 has certainly paid dividends. Overall, this German powerhouse has released a remarkable sixteen studio albums of which, through diligent set curation, eleven are represented across the course of the ninety minutes that follows as the last notes of Maiden’s ‘Run to the Hills’ echo about.
Thrashing glory in human form ‘Seven Serpents’, hauled in from this year’s studio long-playing offering ‘Krushers of the World’, receives a reverential reception from the Rockharz ensembled, such that is reserved for only the most influential. The melodics in the atmospheric mix showcase the guitaring of Sami Yli-Sirniö adjacent to Mille Petrozza’s hellbound riffage.
With a Celtic passion amidst the tempestuousness the teutonic thrashing of ‘Hail to the Hordes’ wields an addictive element that is nigh on impossible to resist. I along with the overwhelming majority of the large gathering are under the conjuration. Petrozza motions a request for a wall of death before unleashing the ferocity of ‘Enemy of God’; the first of what proves to be eight title tracks summoned tonight.
The Richter Scale is maxed out by the ultra-rapid-fire contusion of ‘Satanic Anarchy’ and the second track off ‘Krushers’ further demonstrates there is certainly more chapters in the story of Kreator to yet be written. As per the album that bears its title the behemothic flood of ‘Hate Über Alles’ is preceded by the Western-infused taped segment ‘Sergio Corbucci is Dead’. An opportunity to gather one’s senses ahead of the next round of devilment.
Assembling flashes of Helloween-drenched shredding ‘People of the Lie’ streaks across the night skies. Responding to Petrozza’s call for “Old school crowdsurfing” Rockharz happily comply with a constant stream during the equally ol’ school thrasher ‘Betrayer’. It’s quite possibly a number to match those we saw during Alestorm’s 2024 performance.
The full-frontal onslaught of ‘Krushers of the World’ proves an irresistible kinetic with its mesmerising thrash setting about burning down all within a considerable circumference. With its melodic intro ‘Hordes of Chaos (A Necrologue for the Elite)’ lures in the unwary before the accelerator is applied intransigently rising to a furious stampede, the ultimate terrorizer.
Flames reach ever higher with bells tolling and the lighting rig menacingly flashing red. Harnessing the fires of hell the magmatic thrasher ‘Satan is Real’ demonically captivates. The atmospheric ‘Mars Mantra’ bridges the void leading into ‘Loyal to the Grave’ and the delights of ‘Phantom Antichrist’. Two torch bearers emerge setting fire to a pair of tortured pagan figures; I have to give the utmost respect to the love that German metal bands display for the use of pyrotechnics.
Hiraes’ dynamic vocalist Britta Görtz joins the fray for ‘Tränenpalast’, last year’s igneous collaboration that takes its deserved place on ‘Krushers Of The World’. The gates that lead the way to the underworld are ripped clean off their hinges and tossed aside as if mere rags. Lava threateningly broils as the magmatic ‘Endless Pain’ takes matters up a number of levels. 2020 single-only release ‘666 – World Divided’ continues the elevation as midnight nears.
The ultimate thrashing avalanche ‘Violent Revolution’ is my personal Kreator track of choice. A howling beast that sets the heavens afire with its dystopian blaze it teeters upon the edge of the ever-opening cataclysm. The majestic thrashing of ‘Pleasure to Kill’ is the final push into the abyss as Kreator go out in a ball of flames. Synonymous with power, speed and an unworldly density Kreator have once again provided the necessary evidence, in the extremely unlikely occurrence that should it be require, that they are a band at the very top of their chosen game.
Photography by Kelly Spiller for MPM
