HOULE
‘If your evening ended with DOOL, your morning shall begin with Houle’: the second day hasn't even started yet and fatigue is already making us say silly things in a tone of ancestral wisdom as we drag ourselves under the blazing sun towards the Dave Mustage.
It took at least Houle to make us brave the heat: their black metal from the sea brings a breath of fresh air and attracts a much wider audience than just black metal fans. Far from being a mere gimmick, the oceanic theme haunts Houle's performance deep beneath the surface: sure, there are striped shirts and fishing nets, but that's not all. The melodies exude the epic power of sailors' tales filled with mystery and storms, while Adèle Adsa, a.k.a Cafard, a.k.a Adsagsona, the singer, is a tidal wave of energy, cavorting on stage with the limping gait of a sea dog with a wooden leg. It's angry, tormented, possessed, ferocious... but Houle doesn't forget to vary the emotions and make their music more accessible at times, with rare passages of clear singing serving as bright spots but also helping newcomers to immerse themselves (Le Continent, epic and evocative, is one of the highlights of the concert). Between the effective and personal music, the artistic direction and the power of their performances, Houle is building a fine reputation for themselves. This was probably the last time we'll see them at breakfast, and we're not complaining – being shaken up like that first thing in the morning could give us seasickness for the rest of the day!
WEGFEREND
Taking advantage of Belenos' last-minute cancellation, Wegferend find themselves catapulted onto the stage at 2pm. We can therefore enjoy this delicate concert. The trio, composed of sisters Manon and Alexia Cazaméa and Thomas Boissier, smiles at its audience, the most receptive of whom are mesmerised by the minimalist melodies and reassuring vocals... Despite its elegance, the performance suffers from the weather conditions: Wegferend's music sure carries some sunlights in it, but we would have preferred the more intimate atmosphere offered by a tent or a smaller stage, which would have helped to make the ritual more immersive! Being the mischevious teases that we are, we had a little fun with a slight moment of uncertainty when, towards the end of the set, Thomas Boissier asked the audience: ‘Do you like war?’. The reactions are mixed, given the international context: um, what are we supposed to say? Is war cool or not cool? Then he asks again: ‘We can't hear you, Motoc, do you like... rumbling?’ Aaaaah, now we understand better, it's okay, rumbling is cool! L'Ost est en Marche allows the set to end on an epic and intense note, with a few martial connotations in the percussion. In the meantime, the Toulouse band has drawn us into their dreamlike world of legends and journeys, embracing their role as travellers/storytellers (when Wegferend launches into The Wayfarer, our brain connects the two languages and finally realises that, hey, of course, it's the same word! And what's more, Wayfarer is the name of a band that will be playing on the same stage later on!). A kind of interlude by the fireside, in short, but at 2pm.
FIVE THE HIEROPHANT
Until later in the afternoon, our schedule consists of going back and forth between the the Bruce Dickinsène, whose unusual open-air configuration proves to be much more pleasant than we initially feared (the venue is rarely crowded and allows you to enjoy the concerts while breathing freely!), and the shadows of the Massey Ferguscène, where a promising interlude of ‘brass and darkness’ begins! The London band Five the Hierophant's concert begins in a hushed atmosphere, as the hooded silhouettes of the musicians emerge from the smoke. Brass instruments, but not only: the four musicians use a whole range of equipment to give their music a mystical touch (gongs, horns, etc.). Live, the heaviness of the ensemble is amplified and the Massey is immediately plunged into a trance between drone, doom, psychedelic, black metal shadows and dark jazz reveries. The faces are closed, concentrated. Between the hypnotic repetitions of these long, drawn-out pieces (‘When do we applaud?’ wonder those who want to express their enthusiasm without coming across as boorish) and the swirls of smoke, the audience is captivated and respectful. We listen, we let ourselves be enchanted by this mysterious, sometimes disturbing music, whose most visceral impulses burst forth with tenfold power (Initiatory Sickness and its arty cacophony becomes explosive cathartic chaos). We emerge spellbound and surprised to see that not only is it still daylight, but that, quite simply, the rest of the world still exists.
WAYFARER
Wegferend dropped the word earlier in the day: Wayfarer, the wanderers, those who travel on foot. We return to the Bruce Dickinscène to listen to what these wanderers have to tell us with their black metal tinged with Americana and North American folklore. With their sober, black dress code and full-on American gothic attitude, the quartet took advantage of the dusty, sunny setting to plunge us into their world from the very first notes of The Thousand Tombs of Western Promise. There is something both excellent and a little disappointing about Wayfarer: we admire how the band's theme avoids the trap of crude and caricatural gimmicks, giving the music a very special flavor without veering into ostentatious gadgetry (Wayfarer does not overplay like the Polish band Me and that Man did the day before, in a different genre)... But this discretion may also leave festival-goers feeling unsatisfied, who, depending on the time and mood, were hoping for a little more fun. Wayfarer combines subtlety and power in sinister groove tracks that mix catchy tunes and developments that keep us on the edge of our seats (The Cattle Thief, with its melodic breaks, clear vocals, and a few more doom-laden touches, or False Constellation with its more poetic melancholic wanderings). More demanding than the label “cowboys who play black metal” might suggest to newcomers, but also infinitely more satisfying, Wayfarer packs a punch and succeeds in conveying a spirit of freedom while paying homage to the ghosts encountered along the way. Top notch.
IMPERIAL TRIUMPHANT
Walking between Bruce Dickinscène and Massey Ferguscène, episode 18. After the brass section of Five the Hierophant, it's Imperial Triumphant's turn, who, in the blackjazz genre, is a true elephant (we get the rhymes we deserve). The comparison ends there (well, they also wear togas, but they have funny golden masks), as the approach is radically different: the New Yorkers' music is crazier, more experimental, dissonant, fast, and liberated. Rather than trance, they sow a kind of chaos, exuding the frenzy of the Gotham of 100 years ago, drawing obvious inspiration from Fritz Lang's Metropolis. Luxury and deviance, decadent grandeur and rock ‘n’ roll, their black-death-metal-jazz mix is unsettling... but entertaining. Between the costumes and the attitude of the musicians, who are very communicative and involved, Imperial Triumphant is not (just) something to be savored like an overly salty cocktail with an underripe olive, a sophisticated pout plastered on a pinched face to look good in society. No, Imperial Triumphant is FUN.
First of all, it's FUN because you don't understand much of it, and it doesn't get any better with each concert: although their sound is now much more accessible (like Goldstar, their latest album, which was well represented this afternoon), you still wonder if the fans have understood something that escapes you... But it's also FUN because the pleasure that Zachary Ezrin and Steve Blanco take on stage is as obvious as it is contagious (we won't speculate on the mood of drummer Kenny Grohowski, hidden at the back of the stage behind his kit and his mask): these two are having a blast playing with sounds, creating their bizarre, improbable, and unique beast with a freedom and a surprisingly refreshing playful approach. And then there are the cowboy boots. And sparks. And, of course, the traditional bottle of champagne sprayed on the front rows. We still feel like imposters in a cult whose codes we don't understand and which hasn't yet unmasked us, but what fun we're having!
BLACKBRIAR
Looking back on the day so far, we've seen intense black metal, introspective folk reveries, misty mystical rituals, and avant-garde deviance. Each of these bands required a certain effort on the part of the audience to immerse themselves in their respective offerings. It was time to relax... and get ready for Lacuna Coil, who are playing in two hours. So we returned to the Bruce Dickinsène to discover Blackbriar live. In terms of easy listening, we were well served: the songs flow effortlessly, the most painful rough edges residing in the rose thorns that adorn singer Zora Cock's microphone stand. It's not unpleasant for the alternative metal genre with gothic touches, sometimes borrowing from Lacuna Coil, sometimes from Epica. It's easy to be seduced by the catchy, almost pop-like tunes that are comfortable to assimilate, if you're in the mood. We are particularly fascinated by bassist Siebe Sol Sijpkens, who comes on stage with a huge smile, shaking his blond hair with crazy enthusiasm and spinning around in all directions, kicking the air. The fun show factor!
LACUNA COIL
Life as a media at a festival is sometimes full of unexpected events and obstacles. The timing of our interviews meant we missed Darkenhöld and arrived just in time for the start of Lacuna Coil's show. Just in time, but already too late: clumsy management of the photographers meant we only had about fifteen seconds in the pit to take pictures! Although the Italian band is not among the headliners at major festivals and seems doomed to never break through the same glass ceiling for twenty years, everyone goes to see them at festivals. Everyone goes to see them because everyone listens to them or has listened to them. Even those who don't admit it. Lacuna Coil remains eternally associated with a kind of nostalgia (often around the Comalies era), even though their latest album, The Sleepless Empire, is a succession of ultra-effective hits reminding us that we should think about conjugating all this in the present tense.
And then there's Cristina Scabbia and Adrea Ferro's energy as friendly as ever behind their horrific makeup. It's a shame that the Cristina's microphone was acting capriciously at the start of the concert, leaving her voice too far in the background. After a start to the concert devoted to Black Anima, it was time for a string of hits from Sleepless Empire (Gravity, I Wish You Were Dead, Never Dawn... and, of course, Hosting the Shadow, the band bizarrely introducing their “very special guest”, Lamb of God's Randy Blythe, who was obviously absent from the stage but gave the audience a moment of false hope. For nostalgia's sake, Heaven's a Lie and the cover of Enjoy the Silence will bring everyone together: those who can't admit it will continue to listen in secret, but everyone will keep Lacuna Coil's choruses in their heads for the rest of the day!
EIVØR
Then comes a cruel dilemma: Kerry King or Eivør? In other words, the metal legend, a sure bet we've seen a bunch of times with Slayer or more recently in his own band, or let ourselves be enchanted by the Faroese singer's pop-folk tunes? Hey, we're VerdamMnis, we're at a metal festival, it's a no-brainer: of course we're going to see Eivør! Especially since almost everyone else seems to have made the opposite choice... all the better, we're comfortable in front of the Bruce Dickinscène, among those who know why we're here. A spectral presence bathed in blue light, Eivør contrasts the coldness associated with her world with her warm attitude, creating an intimate and welcoming atmosphere with her smiles.
We are won over when, speaking entirely in English, she explains how much she loves France, French food, the French people, etc., etc., only to let slip a single French word, a delicious “merde!” in the middle of this glowing list of our qualities! Eivør suspends time and takes the audience's breath away, breaking the usual codes associated with anything labeled “Nordic folk” (you know, the martial binary percussion and all that) with Í Tokuni, the haunting electro-pop highlight of a show that combines mystical incantations and slightly creepy, mysterious whispers with an almost robotic sound supported by industrial-flirting electronics. There, in the open air at dusk, the effect is striking.
KERRY KING
However, we can't completely resist the urge to catch a glimpse of Kerry King, just for the sake of it. We arrive just in time for Slayer's Disciple. Arriving at a Kerry King concert during Disciple is almost like showing up at Laibach during Tanz Mit Laibach, at the Rolling Stones during Paint it Black, or hearing the beginning of Beethoven's 5th Symphony and leaving right after: you feel like you've heard the essentials! Especially since almost immediately afterwards, he follows up with Raining Blood, whose intro alone obviously causes an earthquake of ecstasy. Well, we've really heard everything we needed to hear, and while the urge to shout things like “God hates us all,” “I reject this fucking race, I despise this fucking place,” or “Awaiting the hour of reprisal, your time slips away” becomes irresistible, the wisest among us make a huge effort to hold back: the clouds of dust look like something straight out of Mad Max: Fury Road as the crowd surfers sprint back into the chaos. We grit our teeth for this one guy who the security failed to catch and who fell badly, because we're not sure he'll be able to grit his teeth again (mistakes can happen, but we told you yesterday that the security staff sometimes seemed overwhelmed, understaffed or insufficiently prepared)... We're not going to pretend to have an excessive interest in Kerry King's album, or even to be able to distinguish one song from another, but it was a big hit, enjoyable and unmissable for fans of furious thrash metal.
TRIBULATION
Then came one of the most eagerly awaited moments of the 2025 edition: Tribulation, outdoors, at nightfall. With their latest album, Sub Rosa In Æternum, the psychedelic death metal band had taken a turn towards gothic rock, which we were more than eager to discover on stage. While waiting for the concert to start, a surreal scene unfolds before us: the security guards, cigarettes in mouths, suddenly panic: what is that thing smoking on stage? Oh dear, someone must have thrown something that could catch fire, right? We tried to tell them it was just a stick of incense, part of the band's stage props, after a quick “I don't give a fuck” that settles the matter, two of them (it took at least that many) quickly remove this dangerous fire hazard and rub it vigorously on the floor to prevent Motocultor from being engulfed in flames. Clearly, missing a crowd surfer a few minutes earlier has made them nervous! We certainly didn't dare snatch their cigarettes away from them and inflict the same fate on them as that poor incense stick, which had suddenly become as dangerous as a bottle of shampoo larger than 100 ml at an airport.
Macabre makeup, lighting straight out of a 1970s/1980s Italian horror film, and the sinister attitude of dusty ghouls: Tribulation finally takes the stage with a presence that immediately commands respect. The set begins exactly like their latest album, with The Unrelenting Choir and Tainted Skies. The clear, sepulchral voice of Johannes Andersson, the singer-bassist, may be a recent discovery, but it resonates with solemn force in the Breton night. Tribulation has always had a mystical, retro flavor, but has pushed the boundaries of gothic horror: it's macabre, it's beautiful, but it's also very rock ‘n’ roll. Guitarists Adam Zaars and Joseph Tholl put on a show, striding across the stage, striking poses, and interacting with each other: Tribulation is dark and heavy, but also devilishly entertaining, drawing us in with its characteristic riffs.
The sound may be less saturated, but the style remains recognizable, still imbued with that dark magic and psychedelic 70s energy. We wondered if the old tracks would be reworked to fit Tribulation's evolution. Nightbound, Melancholia, and Strange Gateway Beckons are played with the utmost respect for their original intent, allowing us to appreciate a real consistency, despite an obvious stylistic evolution: Tribulation, far from losing its identity, seems to be asserting it more than ever. And it took at least Murder In Red, a gothic anthem straight out of a Dario Argento film, to finally drive the choruses of Lacuna Coil and Slayer heard earlier out of our ears!
DIMMU BORGIR
When Dimmu Borgir plays at Hellfest, due to the “editorial” distribution of the stages, it's under the Temple Stage tent... and it's far too small. Here, the Norwegians are given the place of honor they deserve, the big stage, in the open air. The competition from Finntroll playing at the same time, although serious in the hearts of fans, seems to have little impact: the crowd is massive. The size of the stage does justice to the show put on by Shagrath and his band. Bright colors, tons of smoke, a set that brings to life the “dark castle” evoked by their name... it looks damn good! We are delighted to have Puritania hit our eardrums as soon as they take the stage: with its relentless rhythm and possessed scansion, the anthem has lost none of its power. It's grandiloquent, excessive, insane, wild. Quickly, pyrotechnics come to support Interdimensional Summit and Gateways. The atmosphere is hellish and theatrical, the show majestic.
After such an intense start, however, we quickly fall into a certain routine: sure, Dimmu Borgir doesn't come to town every three months, but with no new album since 2018, the best-of-style setlist ends up feeling repetitive. We laugh at this slightly drunk guy in the audience who confused the Imperial March with the beginning of The Serpentine Offering and starts belting out the famous tune (seriously out of tune, of course!). We're happy to hear Stormblåst, an old track whose grime contrasts with the slightly too clean symphonic flourishes of the rest of the concert... As for the rest, we'll mainly remember the visual impact. Dimmu Borgir needs a stage that can showcase the full scope of its scenography... but also needs a new album!
IHSAHN
While waiting for Ihsahn, two questions circulate: is it possible to get through the summer metal festivals without coming across his beard and glasses, whether with this project or Emperor? And, above all, could we possibly miss this great artist? We then discovered that taking photos under the Massey Ferguscène tent is going to be a sport in itself: in addition to the complicated lighting conditions that we had already guessed the day before, security has decided to take matters into its own hands: no more than 3 to 5 photographers at a time, and a substantial cordon of burly men stands between us and the barrier to catch the crowd surfers. We're a bit curious : where are the crowd surfers at atmospheric, avant-garde, or progressive concerts like Five the Hierophant, Ihsahn, etc., but at least they're safe!
As usual with Ihsahn, the stage design is disarmingly sober. He doesn't need makeup or costumes; he is Ihsahn, and he's there to make music, not put on a show. To the point of seeming austere at times (we remember that concert at Hellfest 2022 that left more than a few people cold). He shares with Imperial Triumphant, who played a few hours earlier, a taste for the unexpected, for exploration, for refusing to take the easy route. It's a shame that live, the orchestral dimension of his latest eponymous album is somewhat lost, depriving the songs of their grandeur. While Ihsahn is still as fascinating to listen to (more than to watch), we find ourselves regretting that they don't choose to surprise their audience by launching into more accessible songs (just imagine if Twin Black Angels or South Winds had been played tonight!). Ihsahn deserves credit, and we are always impressed by the ease with which he carries us along in what seem like almost improvised moments... But after midnight, with fatigue and habit setting in, we also have the right not to get into it. We've seen him a lot, and ultimately, we also have the right not to be as surprised or dazzled, or to want something less demanding.
CARPENTER BRUT
It's perfect timing, as Carpenter Brut's turbo-fiesta arrives just in time! As we saw at Motocultor 2023, this is the perfect kind of show to end a busy day, with the genre's master blending synthwave and metal to make you forget your fatigue and bring a breath of fresh air after hours of saturated riffs. Lightheartedness and fun: everyone finally relaxes, including in the space between the stage and the barriers, where photographers and security staff start dancing together. We had to wait until the end of the second day to really feel this festive atmosphere. With Tribulation and Klone playing earlier, several of us were hoping to see Johannes Andersson come on stage to sing Leather Terror and Yann Ligner show up for Maniac... but for technical reasons, this would not be the case tonight (notably because Tribulation was leaving the festival at 1 a.m., half an hour before the show was due to start!).
Enough talk. The ritual is about to begin. The Backstreet Boys provide the intro to set the mood, red lights shine, a distinctive silhouette stands out against the backlight, silently waves and takes his place behind his microphone, accompanied by guitarist Adrien Grousset and drummer Florent Marcadet, both members of Hacride. Then, as usual in recent years, they kick off with the beginning of the album Leather Terror, with Straight Outta Hell and Widow Maker. Carpenter Brut combines his knack for instant hits with a taste for violence and industrial metal, hitting hard while being absolutely exhilarating and irresistible. It's a blast. We've already heard this setlist before, but it doesn't matter: with a new tour looming in early 2026 and a new album in the pipeline, this may have been the last time we heard this more aggressive side of Carpenter Brut!
The lights are dazzling. It's colorful, flashy, fun, uninhibited. Carpenter Brut is a steamroller, but a flashy steamroller full of confetti. The studio guests follow one another on tape, first Gunship, then Mat McNerney's unique voice (Grave Pleasures, Hexvessel) resounds during Beware the Beast, the first relaxed moments of the concert, as the tension gives way to the glam touches of Leather Teeth. With his live band members, Carpenter Brut gains extra power on stage. The set features some great transitions (Day Stalker / Night Prowler and its crescendo of murderous madness, the haunting musical phrases of Disco Zombi Italia that herald a lighter segment with Imaginary Fire, Monday Hunt, and Hairspray Hurricane for those who want to dance with cheerleaders while chewing gum...) until the unchanging finale, which features Carpenter Brut's two best-known tracks, Le Perv and Maniac. A true unifying climax to this second day of the festival, the concert leaves Motoc' in a festive mood, while night owls continue to hang around the site, shouting the lyrics to Maniac. It's for moments like these, when everything comes together (the schedule, the conditions, the music, the atmosphere in the audience), that we love festivals. Change one ingredient and the recipe probably wouldn't be the same, but here, it was perfect.
Our tops 3 :
Maxine : Tribulation, Carpenter Brut, Wayfarer
Pierre : Tribulation, Carpenter Brut, Houle
