Festival | Hellfest 2024 - Day 3 @ Clisson - 29 june 2024

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Hellfest, day three. Up until then, we'd been bragging that we weren't even a little tired. Well, this time it's starting, and fortunately the day's programme is giving us insomnia as we've been anticipating some of the gigs. Still not tired? Well, to tell you the truth, we missed the start of Përl's set and believe us, it was with a heavy heart. The band, winners of the Voice of Hell springboard (and deservedly so!), put the Valley in a sullen mood with their poetic post-metal made up of cathartic explosions and melancholy lulls. The music is both enraging and beautiful, and while the rain and the early start to the day didn't help the band gather a huge crowd (but, by golly, despite our protests, nobody decided to put the stage back under a tent during the night - a scandal!), we appreciated the coolness and greyness that went so well with the mood.

If anyone made the most of the rain, it was Eihwar. We're almost getting used to seeing bands triumph like this early in the morning (remember Shaârghot in 2019). An eye-catching visual, a Temple Stage ideally placed at the entrance to the festival to attract curious early risers and a shelter for those afraid of getting wet: all the ingredients are there to catch attention. The electro-pagan duo's approach is uninhibited and fun, more a festive, chaotic fantasy than a pseudo-historical posture (they told us all about it in an interview), and they unleash one powerful hit after another. The Temple is transformed into a dancefloor at breakfast time, and Asrunn's possessed dances are a joy to behold, contrasting with the more withdrawn and mysterious silhouette of Mark at the machines. Eihwar offer a cocktail whose apparent simplicity in no way detracts from its effectiveness: it works straight away, it's epic, mystical and danceable, the audience is delighted and there's something touching about seeing these two, who appeared from nowhere barely a year ago, meet with such success. Let's hope it lasts!

Let's yo-yo a bit: after Eihwar's orgiastic ceremony, Konvent shatters our smiles with a heaviness akin to funeral doom. Singer Rikke Emilie List is an ominous presence with a look that imposes a mystical atmosphere: Konvent's ritual is of monumental power and heaviness, and you'll come away with your head spinning. Then it's back to the Temple for another costumed fiesta, this time with the Mongols of Uuhai. Like The Hu, they mix traditional music from their homeland (the famous throat singing is part of the mix, of course) with big, catchy rock. Uuhai's strength lies in the energy they exude, particularly singer Ts. Saruul, whose enthusiasm alone embodies Uuhai's message: the name is a rallying cry, the equivalent of our Hurrah.

Although we'd planned to spend the day more or less in front of the Valley, with a few forays to the Temple Stage, we ventured over to the Main Stages to see Alien Weaponry, who were in the same time slot as two years ago, in front of people waiting for Metallica, just like two years ago. No album has been released in the meantime, so we were expecting a repeat performance. In the meantime, singer and guitarist Lewis de Jong's hair has grown. The trio have gained in confidence and presence, and take advantage of the Snake Pit set up for Metallica to get closer to the audience. Their catchy metal groove, infused with Maori culture, works as well as ever: it's hard-hitting and catchy. We can't wait to see them grow and take things to the next level.

Scoop at Hellfest! Scandal! Infamy! It's nearly 1pm and the Valley is still in the open air - it's the second year in a row and it really can't go on like this! The unfortunate consequence is that it's impossible to get into Spotlights' set, even though we've been waiting with bated breath. We love them, their introspective post-metal/shoegaze mix with grunge touches is strikingly elegant, but here, under the sun, with a not-so-great sound, not helped by tiredness, it's complicated. Such a universe lends itself to intimacy and penumbra. Game over. Fortunately, there's shade under the Temple, and Wayfarer's blend of Americana, western and black metal can creep in and seduce with its melodic touches. The western background remains discreet, avoiding the funny folkloric stuff, but we'd perhaps have liked to see it pushed a tad further for more singularity. As for the rest, it's class.

No rain, but no dazzling sun either: the conditions for seeing Brutus were good... And that's without counting the impressive crowd. What's happened at Brutus in recent years? Well, quite simply, Unison Life, a post-everything marvel (punk, hardcore, metal, rock, pop) that the trio have been relentlessly defending on stage ever since. Brutus is everywhere, all the time, but above all in our hearts: this afternoon, the Belgians are inhabited. Behind her drums, Stefanie Mannaerts gives her all with rage, smiles, pain and sweat, playing with the cracks in her voice like nobody else. What a performance! We've seen Brutus before, and we've always thought they lacked a little something, or that throwing them out in broad daylight at a festival was criminal. But that's all in the past: Liar, Miles Away, Brave, What Have We Done... Brutus turned their audience inside out and, because of lack of space, people sometimes had to follow the concert from improbable angles where you couldn't even see the giant screens. Fortunately, we were able to see them one last time before they got too big, because next time we'll have to stick them on the Main Stage.

After Brutus, we could have gone back under the Temple to see Kvelertak or Corvus Corax. Instead, we prefer to take a breather and hold on to the echoes of this last concert, savouring them a little longer before the next emotional rollercoaster. The fact that we're playing Brutus and Chelsea Wolfe one after the other is enough to make us feel less tired. Three weeks after a memorable concert in Paris (we told you about it here), Chelsea Wolfe took to the stage in her usual sober fashion. It's a shame that the Valley, still in the open air (let's take bets: in a few decades' time, we'll still be moaning about this while feeding pigeons on a public bench), prevents us from enjoying a light show that is nevertheless impressive indoors. That will be the only drawback: in a cyclical process since She Reaches Out to She Reaches Out to She, Chelsea Wolfe is highlighting her latest album, already a synthesis of her work, but also leaving room for her entire discography.

The gothic trip-hop/industrial sounds (the live rendition of Feral Love is to die for) mutate into mystical doom with 16 Psyche, as a light rain begins to fall on the captivated audience. By the time you get to the magnificent Carrion Flowers/After the Fall sequence, it's pouring down. But it's not rain: the sky, torn apart, weeps at the beauty of the set. Aren't we feeling well? What a pleasure, all this sadness! The weather was in perfect harmony with the mood, and we couldn't have wished for better. We don't know who put the Valley in the open air, but let's give them a promotion: it's an idea of genius! Today's bonus? The return to the stage of Konvent's singer and her unfathomably deep growls on Vex and an acoustic finale on Flatlands.

Fortunately, there's a bit of levity afterwards: Nekromantix and their psychobilly show, under the rain, goes down very well. Thirty-five years in the music business, a characteristic coffin-shaped double bass, infectious energy and a crowd that's given room to breathe thanks to the combined action of the rain and the approaching Metallica concert, draining the crowd to make room on the 'smaller' stages: these are the ingredients for a good time. Mr Bungle is still a bit of a mismatch: it's pouring down, we're soaked, but we can't resist the rare opportunity to catch up with Mike Patton and his crazy project. Let's face it, that's the main attraction of the set. Facetious and unstoppable, he keeps the show going with his silly jokes worthy of Beavis & Butt-Head and his eccentricities, in the middle of a line-up full of familiar faces (hello Scott Ian and Dave Lombardo).

But what about the music? Well, there are two versions. You can either get caught up in this messy but slightly more accessible than expected set, which is packed with covers and has the merit of pleasing the crowd (with guest appearances by Andreas Kisser on Sepultura's Territory and Wolfgang Van Halen on Loss in Control or Speak or Die by Stormtroopers of Death - Scott Ian obliged - renamed Speak French or Die)... Either you're a bit disappointed, when you finally get the chance to see Mr Bungle live, to be treated to a set that's half covers and half tracks from their latest album, The Raging Wrath of the Easter Bunny Demo, their first in twenty years but a re-recording of a 1986 demo and not necessarily the band's most interesting material. A sort of shattered thrash metal cover band, Mr Bungle either delights or annoys, depending on the mood, and the performance relies heavily on the shoulders of its frontman. Nevertheless, My Ass is On Fire towards the end of the set is a real treat, bringing out the quirky, ramshackle, generous and all-round talent we'd have liked to see a bit more of this evening. Verdict: choose your side. Option 1: when you're Mr Bungle, you've got to be more than just a fun cover band in the middle of the day or at a music festival. Option 2: when you're Mr Bungle, you don't give a fuck, you do what you want and nobody tells you what to do.

The rain is too good. Metallica is too good. The combined effect of these two factors means we're treated to a private concert by Julie Christmas! Not many people turned up for the last show in the Valley this evening. We were soaked and freezing, but we wouldn't have missed this rare and unusual artist for the world. We didn't really know what to expect, so we were all the better for it. Here she is, arriving on stage wearing a bizarre mask, like a fly's head, and a dress in the shape of a stylised Christmas tree covered in tinsel (we're not called Christmas for nothing): we're immediately won over, and the icing on the cake comes from the music, with her entrance to Bones in the Water by her group Battle of Mice.

It's theatrical, heavy, funny, disturbing, visceral, epic and furious all at the same time. The singer, in her role as a bizarre, childlike and creepy creature, is on springs. Her performance, like her music, is elusive, varied, at once cathartic, intimate and completely mad. Watching her frolic, scream and shake her head in her funny costume, one word comes to mind: zany. Julie Christmas is totally zany. Her mix of doom / grunge / punk / alternative rock, an unlikely cross between Amenra, Björk and Queen Adreena, is zany. The title of her latest album, Ridiculous and Full of Blood, sums it up: it bleeds, it smiles with sincerity but also a certain distance. She spills her guts while putting on a show. Monumental, ramshackle, playful, the latest tracks follow on from each other, with the refrains of Supernatural, the tension of Not Enough and the hushed mysteries of The Lighthouse echoing through the night. Johannes Persson of Cult of Luna, here on guitar, roars on End of the World. This schizophrenic outburst, touching and liberating, ended with the artist hugging his audience. It was incredible, it was crazy. For us, it was probably the best concert of this 2024 edition, both a confirmation and a stunning surprise.

Our top 3 (in alphabetical order) :
Pierre: Brutus, Chelsea Wolfe, Julie Christmas (mais avec plein de mentions spéciales pour Eihwar, Përl et Konvent, comment choisir ?)
Erick: Julie Christmas, Mr Bungle, The Interrupters