It was one of those days... After partying with Carpenter Brut the night before, it took some serious motivation to get our tired bodies going again. Luckily for us, Saturday was the quietest day, with a selection of bands to check out to broaden our horizons, but not many must-sees... and, above all, a very, very slow start to the day. All for Metal had some strong arguments to get us out of bed at 2 p.m. Very, very strong arguments, in fact.
ALL FOR METAL
Let's end the suspense right away: no, All For Metal and its conquering heavy metal hits is not exactly a band whose music is in tune with our editorial line. Yes, we went there mainly for fun. It's only at a festival that we would risk going to see something like this. Muscles! Looks straight out of a Conan the Barbarian fan convention, songs about war, Norse mythology and... metal, of course! As their eponymous opening song says: “it's all for metal, and metal for all.” On stage, everyone puts on a show: we really like bassist Florian Toma and his funny mask, but all eyes are on the two singers, Tim “Tetzel” Schmidt and Antonia Calanna. One is German, the other Italian. The one with the bigger muscles sings with a big voice, the one with the smaller muscles sings with a high-pitched voice (and doesn't even have a working microphone at the beginning of the concert). Both of them are having a blast.
We wonder a little what we're doing here, hoping that no one has recognized us in such a compromising situation... But we have to admit that All For Metal has that typical German band efficiency for stringing together anthems that entertain a captivated audience. The atmosphere is good, Tetzel strikes a series of Mr. Muscle poses and invites Motocultor to flex his muscles with him. His verdict? “Verrry strrrong, Motocultoorrrrr!”. We're delighted, our muscles have been validated... and we think that this big guy must have been thrilled to play in something that rhymes with “Thor.” Active only since 2022, All For Metal has everything it takes to become a must-see at festivals, between two more serious acts. We came out a little dumber, but a lot stronger.
NI
On a more serious note, after seeing the burly Viking knights of All For Metal, we went to see Ni. Is one the consequence of the other? If we had asked the knights who to see next, would they have said “Ni”? Ni denies any (Ni !) affiliation with the aforementioned bodybuilder Viking knights. Ni is also spelled “ni,” “NÍ,” “ni! ni! ni!” and even “niiii.” Without a moment's hesitation, we opted for Ni. The band from Bourg-en-Bresse blurs the lines with their crazy noise-math-rock, incomprehensible rhythms, jazz influences, and subtle electronic touches. Their latest album, Fol Naïs, is a playful and hallucinatory maze.
We were expecting a slightly boring concert with neatly dressed guys doing something cerebral. Not at all! The Massey transforms into a chaotic playground for the band, which inevitably evokes the madness of Mr. Bungle when Patton isn't turning it into a thrash metal band, or an intellectual, lightened-up version of Igorrr. Bassist Benoît Lecomte embodies all the dissonance and weirdness of the music with his ultra-expressive facial expressions, guitarist François Mignot's hair displays psychedelic enthusiasm... The other guitarist, Anthony Béard, looks more studious and doesn't have crazy hair, but he wears a bright red Cannibal Corpse T-shirt, which is enough to bring a good dose of chaos. We thought we'd go see Ni in a hurry and tell ourselves that at a festival, with the fatigue and the crowd, it wouldn't have much effect. In the end, we had a lot of fun watching this bunch of weirdos who manage to embody all the madness of their music on stage.
RENDEZ VOUS
We'll spare you the obvious puns about Rendez Vous. The post-punk band bursts onto the scene with its usual nonchalance, and even some cocky insolence. Black sunglasses are de rigueur, the look of those who have taken great care to give the impression that they don't give a damn about their look (the life expectancy of Simon Dubourg's T-shirt is about 40 seconds, but we're particularly fascinated by Elliot Berthault's Dark Funeral T-shirt and joggers combo! Rendez Vous isn't necessarily a band that you appreciate most in broad daylight, on a huge stage... But we'll have to get used to it, as their growing popularity inevitably increases the size of the venues. Yet here, in the shade of the Massey Ferguscène tent, their charm works, thanks in particular to the rage that seems to drive them. The concert is aggressive and danceable, overflowing with urgency and burning energy despite the coldness of the synths. Visceral minimalism, blatant 80s influences (but not only: there's a bit of 90s shoegaze, a bit of industrial...), noise and attitude: Rendez Vous gives it their all. The show reaches its climax with the performance of Last Stop, an emotional peak sublimated in its live version, which is twice as long, and an atmospheric instrumental finale that is both introspective and intense.
POESIE ZERO
“Les Vieilles Charrues, are you ready?”. THE big chaotic moment of the day started with this pun, a nod to the other festival taking place in Carhaix. From the very first moments, you could sense that something was happening over at the Bruce Dickinscène stage. A huge crowd gathered to sing along to the choruses of songs from L'album Bleu. Unless it was the choruses from LALBUMBLEU, ALBUMBLEU, ALBUM BLEU 3 or the recent ALBUM BLEU, Pt. 1 followed by ALBUM BLEU, Pt. 3. Who cares, it's shitty punk, “crap but better than everyone else,” in their own words. As people everywhere shout: "C'EST NOUS LES PUNKS, ON N'AIME RIEN À PART LE PUNK, ÇA ON AIME BIEN" (“WE ARE THE PUNKS, WE LOVE NOTHING BUT PUNK, THAT'S WHAT WE LIKE" - we've left the capital letters but spared you the numbers on the keyboard in Caps Lock mode instead of special characters!). Poesie Zero is a parallel universe made up of crazy dancing (the more electronic flashes of TECHNOFLIC work really well), a rain of human limbs, and punchlines shouted by François-Xavier Josset between songs. Les Vieilles Charrues suck, because there are loads of metalheads here and metalheads are dumb!
You rarely see things like this. It's deeply enjoyable and cathartic, but also unifying. By wrapping a sincere and straightforward message in an ultra-outrageous form, Poesie Zero can be enjoyed both for its fun or more serious part, with its blunt, in-your-face, teeth-knocking-out approach. The message is clear: obviously no one likes fascists, as they say, but playing at Motoc' (sorry, Vieilles Charrues) is an opportunity to ask, before OLALA IL FAIT CHAUD, whether global warming is the fault of “festivals where everyone comes with their own vehicle.” With their rat masks, their crowd surfing, their turbulent-regressive titles (TU VAS QUITTER TON TAF, TRUCS DE SALES NAZIS DE MERDE...), Poesie Zero acts like a bratty kid but, perhaps to its own detriment, also exudes a kind of benevolent tenderness that is strangely touching in its false naivety. A great moment of nonsense, chaos, and life.
So obviously, Poesie Zero irritates and divides. Punks are annoying. They serve no purpose, they don't like anything except being punk, they're a bit stupid. We will obviously hear many people saying, ‘Enough already, artists shouldn't get involved in politics.’ For us, we first need to determine whether Poesie Zero is really ‘involved in politics’, as their over-the-top approach oozes as much self-mockery as it does honesty. Let's say they're as much involved in politics as they are in music. We then need to determine what is ‘political’ at a time when Nazism is once again considered a political opinion... However, in our view, prohibiting artists from ‘engaging in politics’ would be dangerous and unacceptable. No one can tell an artist what to do or not to do. Artistic expression comes from personal emotion; artists express themselves on what moves them, what revolts them... subjects that inevitably become political. Regardless of political affiliation, censoring an artist's expression would then prevent any debate, any discussion, any possibility of questioning oneself and progressing. Everyone is free to appreciate or not appreciate the content or form, whether through heavy-handed jokes or long, demagogic speeches. Criticism is healthy. Preventing people from expressing themselves is the hallmark of sick and criminal regimes.
What's more, it helps to anchor an event in a particular era. In 2022, we remember the many Ukrainian flags waved at festivals (with a memorable performance by Jinjer at Hellfest, before Ministry took to the stage to the sound of the Ukrainian anthem, for example). Cultural events are not separate from history. This year, many Palestinian flags were displayed on stage: Motocultor 2025, as its name suggests, takes place in 2025 and is inevitably marked by current events. Limiting artists to the role of ‘court jesters’ who entertain us in the most neutral and apolitical way possible would be to forget the role of the king's fool. To say that ‘it was better before, when artists didn't feel obliged to get involved in politics’ would surely please Jean de La Fontaine, Victor Hugo, Georges Brassens and Pablo Picasso! Artists are free to express whatever they want, even if it means getting slammed for it afterwards. Too bad if the idiot who spent Kerry King's concert yelling ‘we're not faggots!’ or another who liked that ‘at least in this band, there are only white people, yeah, I'm proud of it!’ didn't like it. (What courage, really, admirable, it must have taken a lot of risk...). It was the inevitable interlude after the storm unleashed by Poesie Zero. To help you get over it, here's a little gallery of people enjoying the moment... because at Poesie Zero, ultimately, the show is almost more in the audience than on stage!
PELICAN
We have to admit that after Poesie Zero, our minds are a bit foggy. The fatigue of the festival, the succession of concerts, etc.: Pelican comes at a bad time. We don't remember much about the post-metal band's show except for their taste for heaviness, which is enjoyable when the heaviest riffs crush the back of our heads and the Americans' doom impulses groove under the shadows of the Massey Ferguscène. Pelican embraces several trends, losing us in its lightest reveries before recapturing our attention when the sound thickens. It is in these moments that the more atmospheric side and technical prowess of the musicians burst forth, giving us a glimpse of a more visceral and personal facet without which we would have continued on our way to a shady spot to catch our breath.
ENSLAVED
Enslaved, based in Bergen. Connoisseurs know that between its cute painted houses, beautiful promenades and Fantoft Church, Bergen is the capital of black metal. But Enslaved has come a long way since the early 90s, trying their hand at more progressive sounds. So it's not your typical black metal band taking to the stage at Dave Mustage, as the broad smiles of the highly expressive musicians quickly make clear. Guitarist Arve Isdal is a show in himself, with his many facial expressions and postures. Enslaved is fun. While purists will probably prefer the demonic flavour of Jotunblod, we enjoy the rock'n'roll spirit of Heimdal or the gothic and sinister touches of Heavenless and Isa. It's not the most memorable concert of the festival, but seeing Enslaved is like meeting up with an old friend: the pleasure of habit, the immediate familiarity with proven expertise... and, above all, a charismatic and welcoming attitude. Enslaved breaks the ice and doesn't take itself too seriously, making for a very enjoyable moment that is accessible enough for everyone to enjoy.
MØL
The fun is over. The sun is slowly setting on the festival and darkness has returned to Massey Ferguscène. While waiting for Møl, a guy in the front row warns us: ‘Watch out, this is the best band in the world, you'd better take some great photos.’ We tried, we promise. If you've never seen Møl live, you're not ready. First, there's the band's look. We're absolutely delighted to see them wearing the same ugly shirts as in their recent promo photos, a far cry from the ‘black metal’ dress code. Then there's Kim Song Sternkopf on vocals, a whirlwind of energy, warm and elusive, who can't keep still and embodies all the storms contained in the music with his body. Møl doesn't care about obeying the rules and takes us on a wild ride, combining intimate rage with moments of poetic reverie. They can be compared to Alcest, the inevitable reference in blackgaze/post-black metal, but we appreciate the Danes' bite, infectious aggression and extra fire. The result is dizzying highs, a thrilling and captivating musical rollercoaster ride off the beaten track... but above all, total commitment on stage. A huge slap in the face, crazy, free, intimate, possessed by a multitude of emotions.
ENVY
Let's stay with atypical poetry and inner turmoil with Envy. A few blue lights, lots of smoke: the dreamlike, surreal atmosphere sets the scene. We're not here to see the real world, but rather to lose ourselves in the company of this Japanese band whose creativity continues to dazzle. Hidden under his ever-present cap, Tetsuya Fukagawa is a master of ceremonies who is as elusive as he is expressive (his arms, perpetually in the air, speak for him). Logically, Envy devotes a large part of their set to their latest album, Eunoia. With heart-wrenching screams, whispers and introspective spoken word, the singer lives in the moment. We are always surprised by the contrasts in Envy, between luminous, reflective lulls that tend towards post-rock and more hardcore, rage-filled explosions (the recent Lingering Echos, for example, sometimes sounds like a feverish exorcism). The audience lost themselves in the haze and savoured the unique atmosphere that Møl and Envy had created at the Massey, leaving galvanised by the beauty that emanated from this series of concerts.
SNOT
Enough poetry, Snot is playing at the same time as Trivium. Seeing Snot in 2025 is a curious experience, as the band seems trapped in a time capsule. Snot is best remembered for their 1997 debut and only real album, Get Some, which rubbed shoulders with the greats of the 90s neo-metal wave... but the death of singer Lynn Strait in 1998 doomed a career made up of short-lived reunions. It's unclear whether the current lineup is intended to last... but we're surprised by the power the Californians exude live! Helped by a new singer, the very committed Andy Knap, Snot delivers punk energy that adds to their testosterone-fueled nu metal. The band plays tracks from their album, which never seem dated, and adds a tribute to Ozzy in the form of a cover of Black Sabbath's Children of the Grave. The audience, who probably never thought they'd get this chance, is having a blast. It may be less spectacular than Trivium, but it's also more fun!
TRIVIUM
On the main stage at Dave Mustage, the blockbuster of the evening is about to begin. There are lots of microphone stands on stage, but it's not just so that all the musicians can sing; no, it's so that Matt Kiichi Heafy can run around freely on stage and always have something to shout into, wherever he is! Trivium is a sure bet, a riff machine, an ultra-efficient steamroller that seemed to be at the top of its game with its latest album, In the Court of the Dragon. Trivium recently celebrated the 20th anniversary of the album Ascendancy, and we're delighted to see that the setlist for the evening isn't devoted to it beyond the first two tracks: a little variety won't hurt!
Not having any tracks from In the Court of the Dragon, on the other hand, is disappointing: released in the midst of the pandemic, the album didn't really get a proper live showing, at least in Europe. Heafy runs around, sticks his tongue out when he's not singing, and belts out the hits (Pull Harder on the Strings of your Martyr and Catastrophist played early in the set, and The Sin and the Sentence at the end, ensure a good first and last impression!). Meanwhile, In Waves blows the Motoc' audience away, Trivium of course covers Metallica (Master of Puppets) and presents its latest track, Bury with my Screams. Heafy, perhaps inspired by All For Metal earlier, flexes his muscles almost as often as he sticks out his tongue. With its spectacular lighting, infectious enthusiasm and non-stop set, Trivium fully fulfilled its role as the day's bosses, leaving several exhausted festival-goers to make their way home.
BATUSHKA
Then something unexpected happened. As half past midnight approached, the Verdammnis Incorporated delegation decided to take a quick look at Batushka's performance on the Supositor Stage before going to see Cult of Luna. Batushka is accompanied by a whole decorum: eight-string guitars, almost complete immobility, anonymous musicians hidden by their stage costumes, songs from the album ПАНИХИДА (Panihida, ‘Requiem’) all with the same title... Of course, we must mention here the schism that befell the project led by Krzysztof ‘Derph’ Drabikowski, when his concept was stolen by Bartłomiej Krysiuk, who usurped the name Batushka for years until a court ruling finally banned him from using it. The ‘fake’ Batushka became Patriarkh (and, ironically, regained the artistic interest it had been lacking), while Drabikowski's Batushka could once again look to the future.
A ritualistic atmosphere, liturgical black metal inspired by the Orthodox Church, the smell of incense, shadows of graves at the back of the stage... The setting created by Batushka in the open air, under a black sky, is impressive. The black silhouettes stand out, static (as a friend at the show said, ‘if they started running around, we'd mistake them for jawas’), adding a ghostly presence to this gothic midnight mass. For once, the concert is probably best appreciated from a distance, to fully enjoy its scale and majesty, rather than from the front rows. We remember the complicated photo conditions under the Massey Ferguscène tent, which we imagine, like the previous evenings, to be drowned in smoke and blue lights... So, at the risk of incurring the wrath of fans of the legendary post-metal band, we finally decided to skip Cult of Luna and remain a little longer in the solemn power emanating from Batushka.
KAP BAMBINO
It's 1:30 a.m. and Motocultor's choice of after-party acts is enough to unsettle the most die-hard metalheads: on one side, there's punk/rap band Krav Boca, and on the other, Bordeaux-based electro-punk/synthpunk/chiptune duo Kap Bambino. We start our evening with the latter, crossing a few bewildered glances along the way from people wondering what the hell is going on. Imagine the scene: in the middle of a metal festival, the main stage is belching out overexcited boom-boom-boom-boom, while Caroline Martial runs around like a possessed woman, dancing in the audience for entire songs. Her partner Orion Bouvier remains monolithic and discrete behind his machines.
We savour the minimalist melodies that sometimes lean towards darkwave (the aptly named Batcaves) and the pounding rhythms (No Domination, very punk in its intensity), while the lyrics spat out with aggression sometimes give us the impression that we've stuck our fingers in an electrical socket. The crowd may be sparser than for the better-known bands that played on the same stage earlier, but Kap Bambino delivers a possessed performance. It was great for shaking your booty like crazy. Less known by the metal audience than Carpenter Brut and not benefiting from the same idiotic buzz as Little Big, Kap Bambino nevertheless struggles to draw a huge crowd. Some people will complain that it was indeed a bold programming choice... but we had a great time!
KRAV BOCA
Meanwhile, there are smoke bombs and another form of chaos on the Bruce Dickinscène stage. Krav Boca is not only an explosion of rage, it's also afreak show that we would love to join. Hoods covered in make-up, a mandolin, an aerial hoop act and performances by Fafa, a bizarre, masked figure who plays with fire and throws jets of sparks with an angle grinder... Krav Boca is a spectacular feast for the eyes and ears.
From the very first moments, with the sinister Intro from their recent album Heretic and its heavy riffs, Krav Boca imposes its atmosphere of the end of the world, freedom and rebellion. Their latest album emphasised heaviness and leaned more openly towards metal, and the show reflects this: with burning rage, Krav Boca unleashes itself. It's ultimately much more energetic and aggressive than anything else we've seen during the rest of the day, despite the mandolin, despite the rapport with the audience and the desire to party. A completely crazy, atypical freak show, full of generosity.
Our tops 3 :
Maxine : Batushka, Envy, Trivium
Pierre : Møl, Poesie Zero, Batushka
