The road to Clisson is like going to a big family meeting: there's the pleasure of reunion, but there's also its share of apprehension. For us, covering Hellfest each time is a mixture of fascination for this spectacular festival, genuine admiration for the exceptional quality of the line-up, which offers a varied range of 'rock music' in the broadest sense of the term... But we're still sceptical and uneasy about the festival's questionable communication on issues that have become essential to our society (sexual violences and ecology, to name but a few), and also about the size of this media monster, which siphons off all the attention and energy to the detriment of more modest events. So it's like signing a pact with the Devil, knowing you'll be joining the ranks but also enjoying a unique and rich offering, in the hope that the festival will grow. At this year's press conference, the emphasis was placed on the fact that the festival is lagging behind on "numerous social issues", and on its determination to make progress on these issues, to communicate better and to find solutions to the environmental impact. We're waiting to see how things evolve on this front, and hope that it's not just a question of publicity stunts - we can only encourage any concrete initiative.
To go straight to our photo galleries, go to the bottom of this article.
As for the rest, we have to admit that we don't really understand the large-glass-only policy, the "ecological motivations" quickly disappearing when you realise that beer is only available in pints, whereas soft drinks, strangely enough, can be kept in half glasses: an incentive to wasteful consumption... We are not thrilled. We also feel sorry for people who find themselves needing to go to the toilet. Or to drink water. The queues are monumental and once again point to another recurring problem: although sold out in the blink of an eye, Hellfest welcomes too many people for its space. Getting around is an ordeal and everything becomes a tideous epic.
So let's concentrate on what brings us together (or, when it divides us, let it be with passion!): the music. The festival's line-up is also evolving. Aware that time is marching on and that there's an urgent need to rejuvenate its headliners, Hellfest has called on fewer seventy-somethings than usual, even if it means propelling some really young bands to the top of the bill (Marseille's Landmvrks, standing in for Bad Omens, proved they've got what it takes). When we arrive on the site, we don't pay too much attention to these big bands, who are often far removed from our editorial line. We headed straight off to Morne. The familiar shadow of the Temple Stage, crushing riffs, rage and despair: Morne lives up to its name, with no frills, just a cold, desolate face, the perfect antidote to the blazing sun and the already titanic crowd (don't even think about the number of toes per square metre, it's enough to drive you mad). On the Valley side (but what's the idea of putting all this in the open air, when one of the festival's worst faults is its lack of shelter - from the sun or the rain?) Khemmis is more expressive and ebullient, but with his heavy / doom mix, we're stuck with the heavy, sullen shrivelling, and that suits us perfectly. The melodic touches lighten things up and give the compositions a sunny aspect that goes well with this late afternoon, although the impact isn't the same under the sun.
We've heard all sorts of worrying rumours about metalcore. It's said to spread serious illnesses... There are even whispers that, to top it all off, it's possible to 'get a kick' or 'enjoy it', serious disorders that manifest themselves in hideous, face-distorting smiles. Since we're not afraid of anything, we checked with Ice Nine Kills. In the meantime, we were very embarrassed by Slaughter to Prevail, who already fascinated us neither with their primitive infrabasses and breakdowns, nor with the neo-Nazi friendships of their singer Alex Terrible and his videos explaining what it means to be a real man... The ten minutes without music during which the singer tried to force a giant wall of death, descending into the audience and harassing the crowd to force them to split up, proved that when you do things to prove on the internet that you have the biggest one, well, you do them all wrong. The whole thing was sluggish and lacked spontaneity, but we'd like to thank them for their initiative: at least, while they were doing it, we could enjoy the relative silence!
Ice Nine Kills, on the other hand, well, as you can see, er... Yes, well, we had fun. We really enjoyed it. Don't go shouting it from the rooftops. Guys who come straight out of American Psycho with their falsely impeccable golden boy looks and who serve us smooth but effective theatrical metalcore packed with horrific references while putting on a gory show full of props : it always has its effect. Decapitations, zombies, masked serial killers: Ice Nine Kills dust off the grand-guignol with appetite and a lot of very fun. Later in the evening, we'll be treated to a double dose of the genre with Landmvrks, whose presence on the Main Stage after dark (a rarity for a French band) confirms the meteoric rise of these little Marseilles natives, who don't let themselves be intimidated by the crowd, or by a technical problem that cuts off their sound for half a song. They devoured this huge stage with the energy and generosity that have made their reputation, well done.
But don't get the idea that just because we 'dig' metalcore, we've become likeable people. No, no, for us this first day is best enjoyed under the tents. (DOLCH) spread their dark, melancholy rock with doom and drone influences: the synth strings haunted the audience, hypnotised by the mystical atmosphere. While outside the sun is still beating down with all its vicious little might, the German band imposes a nocturnal atmosphere of coldness and poetry. Cold and poetic? The same can't be said of Brujeria and their funny cartel delirium, all bandanas and clichés about the Robert Rodriguez version of Mexico (there's even a severed head planted on a flag), whose blend of grind / thrash / hardcore with three singers is a treat. There's no finesse to it, but it's a lot of fun, right up to the Macarena parody, Marijuana, at the end!
After that, we had to find an antidote before our neurons finally died, and Sylvaine's poetic interlude came just at the right moment. Although we're still mourning the cancellation of Gggolddd, Katherine Shephard's band are a very good palliative. For their first Hellfest, Sylvaine didn't take the risk of performing an acoustic set like their latest EP, but instead put on a 'classic' show, blending black metal fury with more intimate, dreamlike outbursts. It's heavy, it's tempestuous, it's beautiful, right up to a solo conclusion with the amps unplugged on the elegant new Eg Er Framand.
As you stroll around the site, the big news is the impressive Gardienne des Ténèbres (Guardian of Darkness) created by the Machines de l'Ile in Nantes, who are already behind the magnificent steampunk fantasy creatures that enchant the city. While we have a few reservations about its location, which doesn't necessarily show it off to its best advantage, the creature is a real eye-catcher and makes a real impact when it finally comes to life, spitting out misty clouds and a few flames. There's something unreal and fascinating about watching it turn its face in the night.
Dark Tranquillity, phone home? Come on, let's pay a visit to this sure-fire melodic death band, whose latest singles give us hope for their next album. On stage, it's neither very dark nor very "tranquille": the musicians put on an energetic show with lots of smiles on their faces, showing great cohesion despite a line-up that's been completely shaken up around mainstays Mikael Stanne and Martin Brändström. No surprises, and no worries either (apart from the sound check at the Temple next door, which interfered a little): Dark Tranquillity know how to win over their audience with impeccable know-how. The Norwegians of Shining, on the other hand, will be far more divisive: lately the band has been abandoning its more pop and consensual recent work to play in its entirety the Blackjazz album that has so defined their image. It's aggressive, wild, crazy and veers towards the noisy avant-garde when the unstoppable Jørgen Munkeby takes it upon himself to use his saxophone and other brass instruments to plunge the Temple into a dissonant cacophony that's delightful for some, unbearable for others. As brilliant as it is radical, it's a blast to listen to while gritting your teeth: as night falls, here's a welcome breath of stimulating fresh air!
Going to see Cradle? Not going to see Cradle and going home early? Well, we'll give in: our sympathy for Dani Filth and her theatrical gothic second degree have won out over our many bad memories of his band's concerts. Cradle of Filth live isn't always perfect. We'd have been better off ripping our tongues out of our mouths: the lighting is beautiful, the sound is impeccable, both full and powerful, and Dani is in fine form. We were amused when he overplayed his clear, deep, sepulchral voice, and ran around the stage in his cape amidst the pyrotechnic effects, while on guitar Marek Šmerda and his Pinhead look from the Hellraiser films almost stole the show. The icing on the cake is a setlist in the shape of a best-of, covering the band's career in ten tracks, from the hellish frenzy of Principle of Evil Made Flesh to the grandiloquence of Existential Terror, not forgetting the cult hits Nymphetamine, Born in a Burial Gown and From the Cradle to Enslave. Has working on a live album recently given Cradle of Filth a boost? Who knows? In any case, it comes as a pleasant surprise.
Our top 3 (in alphabetical order):
Pierre : (DOLCH), Shining, Sylvaine
Erick : Cradle of Filth, Morne, Shining
