There’s no compelling reason to visit Leeuwarden. I’m sure many disagree, but in my humble opinion it’s a city just like any other city in the Netherlands, with its canals, little bridges and shopping streets with the exact same stores you’ll find anywhere else in the country… but then a little less pretty because modern concepts like ‘citymarketing’ and ‘spatial planning’ came along at the expense of its historical assets. 

The only reason why you might possibly want to go there is because at times some kick-ass festival takes place.

Enter Into The Grave.

Frankly speaking, the Netherlands is the fountainhead of dance and trance music, DJ’s like Tiësto, Armin van Buuren and Hardwell getting international crowds raving… But you see, I might be Dutch, but I absolutely despise this kind of music and even more the events related to it (just like I never had marihuana plants growing in my garden and my favorite evening activity is NOT visiting legal hookers). If you need to take such an amount of drugs to be able to enjoy yourself at those parties, how could you say the music is any good?

No, then metal festivals. I never saw any frantic chewing or overheated ranting on these kind of get-togethers, beer is the liquid that bonds the crowds. Scared staring of passers-by aside, there’s honestly no kinder and sociable group than metalheads.

Since I was 12 I’ve been visiting the concerts and festivals, and because as a girl I was a rarely seen phenomenon in between the grunting and pogoing (something that drastically changed the last decade: there are shitloads of chicks nowadays), I’m only used to being treated as a princess… long-haired tattooed men with furry chests and savage beards taking me on their shoulders so I could see the show or forming a human shield to protect me from the whirling moshpit. People sharing drinks and chanting the lyrics of their screaming heroes as a team, helping each other up after being slammed down, giving the other an amicable foot if crowdsurfing is desired. Yes, metalheads are my kind of crowd.

This friendliness was once more underlined once I put a little message on the festival’s Facebook-page, asking if anyone could give me a ride all the way up to the land of the north. Within a day I had several reactions to choose from, people wanting only a sixpack of beers in return. And honestly, besides our practical carpool-agreement, Nick and Sander were the best possible company for the weekend, lightening up the darkness of our music with hilarious anecdotes and forthright laughter. 

Following the trail of our GPS-system we concluded with fair surprise that the festival-campsite was located right in the city center, as (apparently) so was the event itself. So long with the swampy fields tucked away in the countryside, in the middle of absolutely fucking nowhere. Does that mean an upgrade in facilities? No, it does not. There was no running (drinkable) water, that one Dixi-toilet for a few thousand people soon had its pile of feces sticking out of the opening and within a day the rain had turned the grassland into a mudslide… but who cares right, that’s all part of the experience, it has its charm in some inexplainable way. 

That wasn’t the only aspect characterized by poor organization: as they kicked off with a pretty awesome band, The Charm The Fury, we had left in time to not miss out on this worthy opening act (that I luckily saw before in the Sugar Factory in Amsterdam). But if you schedule a band at 4PM and open the gates at 3:45PM, that’s not gonna work mate. From all sides the streets of Leeuwarden were clogged with the dark long-haired masses that could just hear the music echo in between the buildings, while the band was playing for an basically empty terrain. An absolute lose-lose situation. 

But if you have such a bad start, the only way is up right? When we finally passed ticket control and security, the second band already started playing. Flotsam and Jetsam, the American trash metal band that I mainly know because of Jason Newsted’s contributions before he entered Metallica. Jason’s out, but the fire’s still on. The nice ‘n tight musical play, Knutson’s shrill releases and the up-tempo contagious beat were enough to warm up the crowds and get those heads banging.

It made up for the entire disillusion that’s called Metal Church, the next act, and got us properly pumped up for Alestorm! A party I couldn’t possibly have anticipated. 

So for the record, I’m not talking about Halestorm, that screaming rockchick with the awe-inspiring voice, but ALESTORM, the Sco’ish pirate-ensemble warbling about booze and boat fights. I never knew there was such a thing as a party metalband, but thank the devil there is! Kilts on, hairs wild, tongues flapping out of their mouths and their music pumping, these men know how to let a mob go absolutely apenuts.

I screamed, I jumped, man, I even sat on the floor rowing an imaginary pirate ship with hundreds of folks around me doing the same thing.

People hugged each other while folk dancing, crowdsurfed the masses on rubber boats and inflatable crocodiles… Alestorm is one wild ride! One that I wouldn’t want to have missed for a hundred ducats and a bottle of rum. They’ve got a new subscription to their fanlist!

As the band name ‘Powerwolf’ kind of obviously hinted to that dramatic opera-tenor-whining of powermetal (not a fan) and the childish artwork on their records never really got my juices flowing, I opted for a very necessary peepee-break once their show kicked off. However, sitting in that plastic cage with my pants down I listened to the muffled sounds vibrating over the festivalground and concluded that I underestimated those Germans. It sounded more like heavy metal to me, and their stage act for sure didn’t lack enthusiasm… their costumes and make-up gave more the impression of a black metal band, but maybe I should just shut up and stop my narrow-minded categorizing. 

It was already time for the headliner of the first day: Saxon, one of the hotshots of the New Wave of British Heavy Metal. Which immediately gives some crucial information. You see, the NWOBHM-trend marks the end ’70s… that’s a handful of decades ago, don’t you think? And now I was submitted to a wide variety of age-related jokes this weekend, as my travel company was 19 ad 22 years young and I hit 30 that week before (but in my defense, they were shocked as they estimated me 24), but STILL: I’m a frivolous child of the ‘80ies, I’m a young green flower, I limit myself to Mötorhead if you don’t mind when it comes to NWOBHM. Saxon, not my thing. 

Time for the afterparty! Teenagers Nick and Sander decided to head back to the tents for an early night, but the young  30-year-old headed to the club! And not alone, I had met some interesting company, or frankly, they met me. It’s pretty cool to suddenly hear behind you “Stephanie, Stephanie van Hoeijen!” and find your guitar heroes from the Belgian trash metal formation Bliksem smiling at you… loyal readers of this blog, if I have to trust their words. 

And man, do they party like rockstars! Even though the “Nijlpaard” (meaning Hippopotamus) doesn’t sound all that bad-ass, this cool venue hosting the black metal band Monolith Death Cult plus a metal-dj made the night vanish before I even noticed it. 

And then in the morning you realize that you might be young in the mind, but your body tells a different story when alcohol comes along.

All you need after a night of zero sleep and a sea of wine is to start the day with some ear-caressing music stimulating body and mind. Not with Ember Falls. The electronic bleeps and zooms of this Finnish emo-gathering made me wish I never left my leaking tent in the first place, and that cloud burst of rain pouring over us didn’t quite help to enlighten my mood. Next. 

Pro-Pain is a not so much of a metalband, but more hardcore… which is funny, because this is where two very different subcultures meet. Hardcore is a louder version of punk, with a more profound role for guitars, which makes them approach… right, metal! I always find it interesting to see both stereotypes, the bold tattooed guy wearing caps and jeans & the long-haired headbanging metalhead in black,  partying in harmony, all the while overcoming such stereotypes. They both like hard, loud ‘n aggressive, they both screw the rules and they both know how to appreciate their music. And so do I,  I appreciate Pro-Pain’s music a lot. Those riffs, just what I needed.

And it only got better with Textures, a talented progressive metalband from our own soil. Complex and innovative, there’s much reason to adore these screaming men. Don’t get too excited though, this is their last tour before their break-up. Yeah, I don’t know why either. I’m just grateful I got to see them live several times before their cd’s are all that I got left.

As my friend Bart arrived to see me after 1,5 years (I’m not visiting my own country that much), we decided to ditch Whitechapel for a well-deserved lunch break. We arrived back just to catch the last 20 minutes of Sodom, some German trashband from the ‘80ies. I concluded I didn’t miss much, as it all sounded like one long song. I need a bit more variety to hold my attention.

That’s where Life of Agony comes in, their upbeat tunes and tempo changes getting the crowds rowdy. Not only on a musical level they know how to intrigue and captivate, also as a band they won’t bore you with a lack of variety.

You see, I saw them live before, when they still had a male vocalist. Today the same person was singing, but she turned into woman.

I think that’s pretty damn awesome.

We left Overkill for what it is and instead prepped for the real highlight of the day, the main and actually only reason I visited this festival: ARCH ENEMY! 

I remember the first time I saw them live… I had never heard of them before, but the catchy band title was enough reason to stand there front row as a little 15-year-old. The music built up and behind the scenes the singer already started grunting... so deep, so low and so intense that I couldn’t expect anything else but a giant bearded Viking of at least 120kg entering the stage soon. I therefore couldn’t believe my eyes when I skinny blonde chick in hotpants came into sight, discharging demonic sounds coming straight out of the underworld. This woman, Angela Gossow, turned into my childhood hero, I wanted to be her when I grew up. 

In the meantime Angela withdrew as the singer and face of the band, instead taking on the role of manager, and attracted Alissa White-Cruz as her replacement (just like Angela another vegan, just saying… #govegan and stuff). This was the first time I was about to see her in real life, and I couldn’t help but being a tiny bit skeptical… but I decided to trust my idol’s judgment and truth told, their last album War Eternal was a blast. And so was this performance! Holy mother of jesus! That energy, that whole intensity of it! The way this band builds this wall of sound into one big bombastic death metal spectacle, and how this smoking hot blue-haired woman fills them up with her deep growls being pushed up from out of her toes… it’s just one big dark fairy tale.

The whole show I was glowing, being completely consumed by the pure magic of this music. Arch Enemy, thanks for existing. 

And yes, if you have to play after these maestros as the supposed ‘headline’ you’re not gonna get an easy time… but Amon Amarth makes it work though. Viking metal in its purest form. In my opinion they might have slightly overdone it with their stage full of battle ships, dragons, spiked helmets and their toast out of a drinking horn, but well, they surely got their message across. I got a whole new appreciation of folk metal that night, playing off my playlists with bands like Finntroll, Ensiferum and Skálmöld on repeat for days to follow. A noble closing act for fantastic weekend. 

I didn’t sleep, I spent hours floating in a pool of rain water inside of a leaking tent and my personal hygiene got a beating like never before… but man, was it worth it!

Metal unites, metal satisfies and metal never lets go.

Until we meet.

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