Graspop 2001

Friday	Saturday
Campfest	Marquee 1	Marquee 2	Main stage
Metalium Ancient Rites Devin Townsend Destruction Rose Tattoo Nevermore Action in DC	Unleashed Orphanage The Haunted Macabre Six Feet Under Within Temptation Marduk	Awkward Thought Reach the Sky Backfire Shelter Sick of it All Dropkick Murphys Suicidal Tendencies	Pist.On Kill-II-This Farmerboys Primal Fear Savatage Motorhead Megadeth Cradle of Filth Judas Priest

Friday

Nijmegen, Friday 5.00 p.m.: the tent, food and drinks have been packed, along with a clean shirt, socks and underwear. Me and my partner in crime, Doctor PC are all set to journey down south, to the Graspop festival in Dessel, Belgium. For years it has been a smaller, but all the more relaxed alternative to the Dynamo festival, and it's proven to have an interesting bill every year. It's bound to be another thrilling edition, with the likes of Judas Priest, MotЖrhead, Megadeth, Six Feet Under, Sick Of It All, Dropkick Murphys, Nevermore, Rose Tattoo and lots more.

Traffic is heavy on a Friday afternoon, but we meet no real delay. Doc PC rolls a spliff. "You got the good stuff with you, Doc? "Nope, I'm smoking the last bits right now. Don't wanna take it into Belgium." "But Doc, you know that 'possession of drugs' is almost legal now, it's officially tolerated in Belgium." "Well, that might well be the case, but I don't want to run into an asshole cop in Belgium who busts my ass, not for possession, but for importing." Ehm, a slightly paranoid reasoning, but you can not be too careful with Belgium cops. Unlike most of the people in the motherland of all good beers, they are not the most warm and welcoming crowd you'd wanna hang out with.

After 90 minutes we arrive at Dessel. We park our car at the side of the road, carry and drag all our gear to the campsite. We find a good spot, put up the tent, and are ready too start our weekend in heavy metal heaven. We hurry to the 'Marquee 1' tent which functions as the campsite stage tonight. Oh, oh, security checking for cans of beer and other drinks are up ahead. They turn out to be very sociable. If you keep you're unopened can in the pocket of your coat, they just give you a smile and let you pass. If you're drinking openly, you first have to drink it before you can continue to the Marquee 1. It gives a good impression of how relaxed things are at the Graspop festival. Upon arriving we meet up with friends and find out that both Metallium and Ancient Rites have already played. "Good shows?" "Yeah, they were quite all right."

Ancient Rites almost played at their home ground this afternoon. I personally would like to see them in the dark, but this also was all right. And you can say that this band has become popular after their great "Fatherland" release. Many people were singing along and I also couldn't resist the urge to jump in the pogo pit myself to make a few spins. The perfect sound and motivation of the band certainly helped with that. Ancient Rites also was here to promote some new material and that made me enjoy songs as "Victory of Valhalla", "Exile (Les litanies de Satan)" and of course songs as "Mother Europe" and "Fatherland" of their previous release. One thing is for sure. They sound even as tight as on their latest release "Dim Carcosa". And that's no irrelevant information for the people who still have to go and check out Ancient Rites this summer. This band is slowly getting bigger every year. (Beun)

With the first casualty of alcohol in the bag ("They've got a Fosters' bar over here, and you know Harm and Fosters. He's already out completely." Yeah, that sounds exactly like Harm's way.), we wait, drink and chat with the lads till the 'nutty professor of metal' Devin Townsend is ready to teach us a thing or two.

Devin Townsend displays his humor in the first minute. "Do you like metal? Do you like metААААААААААААААl?" He asks the audience in falsetto 'drag queen' style. Ozzy Osbourne comes to mind: Let the madness begin! It's a fitting quote. Devin Townsend live is a cacophony of sounds, an all devouring 'twister' of bombastic guitar, noise and other disturbances. A bizarre, but dazzling mixture of Devin's solo work and Strapping Young Lad stuff, that even in its quiet moments radiates both genius and madness. At the heart of it all is Gene Hoglan, methodically and mechanically abusing his double kick. BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, BOOM, Hoglan fires away often peaking at 220+ bpm. You'd almost think he was the sole instigator and godfather of Hardcore "Gabber" House. (Grumpy)

Next up are Destruction. It's almost hilarious to see the German trio play a strong and very tight set. Back in the day Destruction was notorious for their poor and sloppy live shows, caused by lack of talent and an overdose of beer and stronger 'illegal' substances. But all is well that ends well. Destruction have actually learned to play 'clean & tight' and deliver a strong, entertaining 'best of' set. The long leather dust coats and the eighties metal hairdo are the icing on the cake. We loved it! (Grumpy)
And you, Dr Prog?

Anybody remember last years' Dynamo Open Air? When Entombed was cancelled and Destruction was more than happy to fill in the gap on the bill? That particular show was THE show of the day for me and when I learned that they would be on this years' Graspop Camp fest, I was anxious to see how the band was doing a year later.

The legendary "The end is near.." intro came thundering down the speakers as soon as I set foot on the wooden marquee floor and when I left I once again was very impressed... The crowd was into it, the band was into it so nothing could really go wrong and luckily it didn't. One Destruction classic after another furiously came down upon the thrash hungry fans; 'Eternal Devastation', 'Invincible Force', 'Eternal Ban', 'Bestial Invasion', 'Curse

The Gods' being a few. With the release of the new album coming up soon ('The Anti-Christ') they also featured a new song which sounded really well and very much in vain of the old songs. Schmier, singer and bass player smiled from ear to ear when he saw how Destruction was being celebrated and when the last song ' Mad Butcher' was announced the marquee almost exploded...Destruction made it back....back to stay!! (Dr. Prog)

When Rose Tattoo hit the stage it's party time, 'Down Under' style. Rock 'n' roll in it's purest form: honest, straightforward and catchy. Anything goes: you may thrash like a maniac, bang your head, dance, clap your hands or just sing along with all the classics that pass by. Rock and Roll Outlaw, The Butcher And Fast Eddy, Bad Boy For Love, Remedy, Assault & Battery, Suicide City, Nice Boys, there's no end to it. With a good sound and eagerness to perform that equals a 'Great White in a feeding frenzy, The 'Tatts' win over the willing crowd in a jiffy. The entire audience celebrates them. In contrast to their club gig in the Plato club in Helmond (The Netherlands) a fortnight ago, drummer Paul DiMarco has finally got his shit together. Together with bass player Steve King he provides a firm yet swinging foundation for the rest of the band to shine. And whether its Rob Riley's riffs or Pete Wells' slide guitar solo's, shine they do. However, the undisputed star of the evening is Angry Anderson. The tiny but brave skinhead, measuring just over 5 feet, sings with every bit of emotion and dedication he's got. His crispy, screeching voice hasn't lost any of its power or touch in two decades. Frequently improvising alternative vocal lines, the man oozes blues and soul. It's simply magic. (Grumpy)

Nevermore played a stunning set. It's one of those nights were the Seattle rockers, who always give their everything on stage, rise to an extraordinary level. Their latest album Dead Heart In A Dead is the centerpiece of the set. And with the exception of The Heart Collector and Believe In Nothing (both from Dead Heart In A Dead), the more quiet songs in Nevermore's oeuvre are left out. Instead, the band chooses to bring a high octane, aggressive show. Seven Tongues Of God, Beyond Within, Narcosynthesis, We Disintegrate, Engines Of Hate and Dead Heart In A Dead World, they all radiate a tremendous, overwhelming power and an intense, sinister atmosphere.

Being known for their exquisite and audacious interpretations of other musician's compositions, Nevermore include no less than three covers in the set. The Sound Of Silence (originally a sweet ballad by Simon And Garfunkel transformed into a mean, gruesome monster) is an obvious choice, because it's featured on the Dead Heart In A Dead World album. The provocative Bauhaus medley Silent hedges / Double Dare and crushing Jefferson Airplane's cover White Rabbit (the obligatory 'Sanctuary' song in the set) both are a surprise. The latter sounds a bit rusty and stale. It's obvious the band hasn't played this one since the first European tour in 1995. Apart from this, Nevermore once again prove that they are the finest traditional, yet fully 'up to date' heavy metal act who, technically, dynamically and emotionally, have yet to meet their match. (Grumpy)
Is that correct, Beun???
Well, after the first tones of this American fourpiece I knew it already. This most definitely was the best band to headline this campfest. Nevermore has become very popular after the "Dead Heart in a Dead World" release last year. The club shows they did this year were well visited and the band also played at bigger venues. Perhaps their music has become more mainstream and acceptable for a bigger crowd (I actually don't know). What I do know was that I saw a band in top condition. Every member played really tight and even singer Warrel Dane had brought his good voice.

Songs as "Narcosynthesis", "The Heart Collector" and "The River Dragon has Come" sounded great. And even some old songs from the "Dreaming Neon Black" release were in the setlist. And the nice part was that I, again, was standing in front of the stage singing along with a bunch of people when Mr. Dane invited everybody on to the stage. It truly was an enjoyable sight to see almost hundred men standing and singing along on stage wit the rest of the band. Nevermore eventually got the ovation they deserved. One hell of a headliner. (Beun)

Headliner? You had another thing coming, eh Grumpy?

Action In DC used to be an exciting AC/DC tribute band, with singer Mario Vermulst keeping the spirit of the late Bon Scott very much alive. As usual it takes Mario a few songs to warm up and relax, but once he's on a roll there's no stopping him, the resemblance with Bon Scotts' voice becoming so uncanny it sends the shivers down your spine. Of course one has to give credit where credit's due. Mario used to be backed by a band which fully understood that the key to the magic of AC/DC lies in the fact that they not only rock, but always add that subtle swing. It's that swing which gives the Aussies their irresistible charm and (sex)appeal. So up to now the only point of criticism one could rightfully give Action In DC was that their solo guitarist lacked the natural skill, talent and feel the real Angus Young has. Hey, who doesn't? We can live with that.

Unfortunately various line up changes have done Action In DC more harm than good. The new Angus Young impersonator tries to hide his diminished skills by overacting his role. It makes him into a caricature of Angus, which at times becomes not only annoying, but even insulting. Come on man, it's supposed to be a tribute, not a clown show! However, what's worse is the rhythm section. The drummer, obviously and sadly a Simon Wright fan, follows in his idols footsteps by doing nothing but lay down a hard, square beat. The rhythm guitarist and the bass player follow his example by rigidly bashing out their riffs with a thick, low powerhouse rock sound, which rips every little bit of the street-smart bravery and freshness the real AC/DC has to utter shreds. In 60 minutes Action In DC manages to set hardrock back some twenty years. Back into the stone age, when hardrock was often wrongly described as being 'the dumbest boy in class'. Guess there must have been some truth in that prejudicial remark after all. What a shame. (Grumpy)

Off we are for a quick bite and a good night sleep. It's 3.30 p.m. Sweet dreams everybody. And sleep tight. I know I will.

Saturday

I wake up from the warmth of the sunlight. I just stare at nothing to slowly come to my senses. After a while P.C. also awakes. "What's the time Doc?" P.C. takes a look at his watch: "7.00 a.m." Oh no, this can't be true. I want more sleep. Yet wide awake I am. Grrrr, p%^s, d*&n, s~:t, f@#k. "My watch is probably incorrect", says the Doctor. Knowing it isn't, I gladly embrace the little lie (That's it, Doc. You're totally right). I leave the tent, sit down on the grass and let out a series of nasty coughs. Time for my first cigarette of the day. I role it and smoke it, staring at nothing, taking my time to really wake up (Don't wanna be grumpy today). Slowly the activity on the campsite starts. Gradually people are waking up and begin to make breakfast for themselves accompanied by heavy sounds from their ghettoblasters. Breakfast┘ coffee┘oh yes, I need coffee! And more nicotine! Time for cigarette # 2. Me and 'the Doc' visit the big tent on the campsite where they are serving breakfast. The smell of bacon & eggs invades my nostrils. Don't want any of this stuff. So let's just order coffee. After waiting in a queue for 5 minutes I finally get to order my coffee. "Sorry, no coffee. Come back in 10 minutes and maybe you'll get lucky then." T-e-n w-h-o-l-e m-i-n-u-t-e-s. That's like an eternity Oh my God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me! Shut up, you little wimp!, says a tiny voice in my head. I accept my fate and take comfort in the alternative: Cigarette # 3. After ten minutes we try again to get coffee. And hallelujah, mission accomplished. What a sweet luxury.

After a nice stroll around the campsite, meeting (old) friends and acquaintances, the gates to the festival area are opened. Let's hurry, because we don't want to miss our "date" at 10:40 a.m. with the lovely Valium, rock 'n' roll vamp and bass player with Pist.On. Val looks lovelier than ever, sporting a battle dress, lots of tattoos and her long, fluorescent yellow hair. But the overall opinion about Pist.On is quite negative. It's obvious that the New Yorkers and former protИgИs of Type O Negative's Josh Silver haven't progressed that much since their strong debut album Number One. It seems like the band has lost its sense of direction. Apart from the fact that it's neither flesh nor fish, the material from their new CD 'Sell isn't memorable at all. Pist.On's interpretation of the Smiths' classic 'Shoplifters Of The World' still is nothing short from sublime and the highlight of the show. But with only a handful of people that have decided to check them out at this early hour, it is quite obvious this gig is one battle that Pist.On won't win. (Grumpy)

Kill II This take the stage at 11:25 am. They put on a good show, relentlessly firing away their modern metal missiles at the steadily growing crowd. The resemblance with a band like Fear Factory is obvious. Staccato riffs are linked with near mechanical beats and a huge thundering groove, molded in a semi-industrial setting. The music of Kill II This might not posses the sheer quality, depth and technical precision the work of their established American colleges is known for, but The Brits make up for this with commitment and the proverbial blood, sweat and tears. The crowd shows their appreciation with a warm applause. It's well earned. (Grumpy)

At noon, the whole Marquee 1 tent is filled with about 5000 fans. What a big surprise! They've all come to see the live rebirth of Unleashed, rising out of its own ashes like a phoenix, after calling it quits some three years ago. Back in the day, supporting Bolt Thrower and Nocturnus February 1991, Unleashed were four enthusiastic, naive youngsters, as green as grass. They still thought that the record company gave them a camper and a good amount of money without Unleashed ever having to pay back the whole sum (there go the royalties). They couldn't hold their liquor, missed two gigs because of severe hangovers and at one time even stopped after ten minutes with their gig, because all member, drunk as ever, where playing a totally different song. But after the release of their debut Where No Life Dwells, Unleashed (alongside Grave) rapidly evolved into the leading band of the second wave of Scandinavian death metal. Though a second wave band, Unleashed were never second rate. They were a class act, prime stuff with a noticeable style: dark and heavy, yet smoothly rolling like a well oiled panzer division. And let's not forget frontman Johnny Englund, with his ever sympathetic presence and characteristic grunt.

What a glorious return it is for Unleashed! From the first note onward the sound is superb. The Swedish quartet plays a totally sensational set, filled with only classics. "Never Ending Hate", "Berserk", "The Immortals", "Death Metal Victory". It's like an audiosonic blitzkrieg. The tent explodes. People force their way to the front and throw themselves into the whirling pit, the rest watches the whole spectacle with a huge smile on their faces. Johnny, who has thrown his old grunts overboard and now sings with a raw, sharp voice, is genuinely surprised and moved: "We didn't think a lot of people would wake up early to see us. But here you are, so many of you! I want to thank you all for your support in the past and for not forgetting us." Screams, a giant applause, the massive response rolls through the big tent like thunder, from all the way in the back to the front rows. Honoring the mighty Unleashed and urging them to push onward their attack. "Beyond The Creation Of Time", "Execute Them All": the whole experience is over and done in thirty minutes, which is way, way too short. Still, everybody's really pleased, because this was one of the most awesome, intense half hours of the year. (Grumpy)

Farmerboys' mixture of metal, (eighties)pop and some rap elements thrown in for good measure seems a somewhat odd and forced attempt to make them stand out amongst all the trendy acts that have jumped on the nu-metal bandwagon. But the Germans fail to show genuine originality, or a refined taste for arrangements. And they are light years away of being the charismatic demagogues & master manipulators of hollow rhetoric that Limp Bizkit are. The activity and energy that Farmerboys display on stage is a very positive effort, but it can't disguise the fact that their music is nothing short from a smoke screen of stubborn riffs 'n' jumpin' rhythms and poppy melodies that outgrows the crowd's attention span within a few songs. (Grumpy)

Shortly before this festival, Bad Religion, the headliners in the Marquee 2 tent cancel their gig. The whole program is shifted forward and Reach The Sky is added as the second band in the Marquee 2. They play old school hardcore, based upon the blueprint that band as Youth of Today made a dozen years ago, with the occasional melodic punk influences. It is safe to say that originality isn't a 'must' within the conservative hardcore genre. It is more important to use or avoid the real clichИs in a creative manner. Reach The Sky succeed in doing this. They're young, committed, aggressive and at the same time fresh, inspired and inviting. They easily hold the audience captive. Everybody stays, listens and shows their appreciation. But things never get fired up. Everybody saves their energy, because there's just too many hardcore 'n' punk heavyweights to come. Reach the Sky haven't reached that class yet. They are a good middleweight, able to deal some nasty punches, but to deliver a knockout in one devastating blow, is something that is still out of their league. (Grumpy)

To share the main stage with their idols Judas Priest must be very special for Primal Fear. Their metal music 'pure sang', reflecting tradition and old fashioned craftsmanship, gives a big nod to the Birmingham Metal Godz. It's a plunge back in time, back to the eighties, the days of true heavy metal, which feels strangely refreshing. Then again, you can leave it up to these German veterans to really invoke the spirit of the era of denim and leather. It brings back fond memories of metal maniacs, side by side, row after row, banging their heads and shaking their clenched fists. For a few moments, I wish I had my long hair back. Alas, I'm slowly but steadily going bold. (Grumpy)

What to do next? See The Haunted in the Marquee 1 or Backfire in the Marquee 2. It's somewhat of a dilemma. Having seen them quite a few times and knowing that Backfire, as always, will undoubtedly live up to their reputation of being Euro-hardcore act no. 1 and play a blistering monster show, I decide in favor of The Haunted. It's my first opportunity to actually see them perform on stage and I'm real curious whether they live up to their 'rumored' reputation as a live sensation. The Haunted are totally hot this afternoon. Sharp as a razor and furious as a troop of rabid pitbulls, totally off the wall and over the top, the Swedes create an immense surge of energy. Seeing the band in such a killer mood is awesome. But up front the unbalanced sound is a major disturbance. There's no low end, just way to much high end, up to the point where it quickly becomes irritating, annoying and finally utterly unbearable. What a disappointment! Positioning ourselves just behind the mixing desk proves to be only a minor improvement. This really sucks. Damn the idiot that calls himself a sound man. What a f┘..g disappointment! ┘.Oh well, let's just get something to eat and go see┘ Wow, wait just one minute! ┘Only three yards outside the tent the sound is just perfect. My saddened heart rejoices. And sitting on the grass, enjoying the warmth of the sun and the beautiful sight of all the differently clothed metal- punk and hardcore freaks passing by, I'm finally able to fully absorb the Haunted mighty thrashmetal inferno in all its evil glory. Ain't life grand. (Grumpy)
Well, is life grand, Beun?

I saw this band live once in the Metropool in Hengelo (Holland) but it seems that they can also play some bigger venues without losing anything of their intensity.

At high speed the band played songs as "Bury Your Dead", "Hallow Ground" and "Revelation". The Haunted certainly isn't the most original Swedish thrash band of this moment but they sure as hell kick ass. I really could not stop banging and playing air guitar (and drinking Fosters 0,5 liters of course). And if Slayer allows you personally to play their songs as covers you did one hell of a job. What a band. (Beun)

On the early Saturday afternoon it was time to go and check out the masters of murder, Macabre. What a sick and disturbed band that is, in a positive way of course. Everybody should know this thrash orientated death-metal band from the U.S.A. and their great interest in all kinds of massmurderers or serial killers. Every song started with a thorough explanation of the crimes these butchers committed. It also was enjoyable to see the diehard fans screaming a long at these moments. Macabre was playing a very strong set and the Graspop audience was at their feet. The sound was sparkling clear so that songs as "Dahmer" and "Hitchhiker" sounded very cool. Also the strange faces and outfits formed an exception in the, dressed in black mentality, death metal genre. (Beun)

Six Feet Under surely knows how to play at bigger outdoor festivals, remember the great show in the Dynamo Tent two years ago? And now Graspop. The first thing I noticed was that the audience wasn't that enthusiastic compared to the other bands this afternoon. Perhaps it had anything to do with the kind of monotonous stage presentation of the band. Only Mr. Barnes was walking, that says it all. But on the other hand the band was playing a great show. Songs as "Warmachine" and "Bonesaw" were played well, and they even found some time left to play "War is Coming". The only thing I did not understand was why they were touring right now. I know the summer festivals are a nice moment to promote your band but there is a new release due to come out in August. Well, it must be me. (Beun)

Just when it starts to get a little dark it was time for one of the biggest Dutch atmospheric doom metal band Within Temptation. And you could clearly see that this band isn't only popular in our own little country. Thousands of people were standing packed in the big camping tent waving their hands as some kind of slaves on the moves of the attractive vocalist of the band, Sharon den Adel. But that wasn't very surprising. Within Temptation certainly sounded great today and as expected they were here to promote their latest release, "Mother Earth" of which they played songs as "Deceiver of Fools", "Mother Earth" and "Caged". And they promoted this release well. Within Temptation decided to drop the grunt vocals some time ago and also today I did not miss them at all. The (light) show was great and the audience was receiving Within Temptation as heroes. Great job, although it isn't really my kind of music. (Beun)

Based upon their thrilling early releases, Savatage have always been a bit of a "holy institute". Even when, starting with the album Streets, Savatage headed into a more orchestral and melodic direction and later went on to recruit Zachary Stevens, who had far to clean a voice for my taste, I have always maintained the utmost respect for Savatage. This respect is based upon the outstanding level of songwriting and musical craftsmanship their albums display, and an unblemished, killer live reputation. Although their latest release Poets And Madmen shows a band that, to a certain extent, fails to come up with new 'n' fresh ideas and starts to repeat itself a bit too obviously, I never lost faith in Savatage's talents. Hey, everyone is entitled to make a mistake or two. But nothing could have prepared me for the total disaster I witnessed at Graspop.

In 50 minutes, Savatage totally lost all their credibility. Gone was the aggression, the convincing power, the bravery, the refinement, the fluency and technical precision of their play. Everything that used to be their trademark was totally blown to Smithereens. The entire band played a totally uninspired, messy, haphazard gig. Savatage resembled a corpse that crept out of the closet to haunt the stage, making some faint guttural noises that are accompanied by the sound of two crows screaming in the wind with squeaky voices. No, serious. Savatage's new singer, sporting an out of place "gothic look", cannot make us forget his predecessor Zachary Stevens for a single moment. Whereas Zachary sang with ease and stability, confidence and expression, his successor sings with a strained, overdone voice. In no way is he able to disguise the constant trouble he experiences hitting the right notes. He's barely holding on by the skin of his teeth, to that fine line between 'in key' and 'off key'. And "What's His Name" simply tries to scream his way through Sirens and Gutter Ballet, songs from the John Oliva era, often winding up an octave below the original vocal lines. And as for that other crow goes, Mr. John Oliva himself, in the flesh? Well, it's a well known fact that John, after experiencing serious vocal problems for years, has almost completely lost his voice. Still it sounds like he's managing fairly. But when he screams into the microphone at the near the end of the last song, yet next to nothing is audible, a funny feeling of suspicion creeps up from deep within. Are John Oliva's vocals are being sampled? I decide to ignore the incident. Because with or without John actually singing, this show was a total embarrassment. (Grumpy)
What do you think of that, Dr Prog?!!
A lot of metal fans were waiting to see and most of all hear what the new singer of Savatage would be like. The band warmed up in the USA a bit for this European tour and that showed. From the first notes of 'City Beneath The Surface' it was clear that the band was in optimum shape. A bit confusing though was the fact that new guy Damon hardly sang anything; Jon 'Mountain King' Oliva, took the microphone and sang the first couple of songs and proved that he still can sing. But what about the new guy? He seemed a bit nervous, dancing around, looking like a Gothic Metal singer weaving his arms around but when his first clear voice sipped through Jon's lead it became obvious why the band recruited him in the band. Later on in the show when he also did some songs that usually were sung by Oliva this fact was emphasized even more... Not only did he resemble the previous singer Zachary Stevens, he can sound like a young Jon too! Several Sava epics came by; 'Of Rage And War', 'Gutter Ballet', 'Dead Winter Dead', 'Hall Of The Mountain King', the inevitable 'Chance' and the ever beautiful 'Edge Of Thorns'.
After the getting used to the new guy the crowd grew into the set and greeted each song with a loud applause. The only song of the 'Poets And Madmen' album was 'Commissar' and the well-known Savatage energy rolled upon the crowd. An impressive show especially while it was the first show for the new guys in the band for this amount of people: 25.000. The band will return to Europe for a club tour and all I can say about it; go and check out the rejuvenated Savatage, you won't regret it, I'm very sure. (Dr Prog)
See Grumpy, it wasn't all that bad...

Doc PC surprises me by stating he wants to go and see Shelter. "Macabre put on quite a poor show last time," he adds. I'm not complaining, since I can't remember ever seeing a single decent live show by the deathmetal outfit with a bizarre, but funny interest in serial killers. So Shelter it is. The Krishna hardcore posse, led by Ray Cappo, has undergone some drastic line-up changes. Cappo's longtime friend and Shelter's co founder Porcell has left the band. His replacement listens to the nickname Supergrass. He is young, driven and plays his guitar with a fluent eloquence. Ray Cappo's ex-girlfriend Shri plays rhythm guitar, giving Shelter a more solid foundation and an extra bite. Old timer Franklin Rhi is back on bass and behind the drums sits Sean Sellers (of Good riddance fame), who learned Shelter's material in just one week before going on tour with them. Ray Cappo has been through quite some troublesome times the last few years, giving him a dubious reputation amongst straight edge hardliners. But nevermind what anyone says, on stage Ray is still the hardcore icon he's always been. The man radiates positive energy to feed a nuclear power plant. When he isn't moving and jumping around on stage, he's singing in between or on top of the audience. The lively show consists mainly of new songs and material from When Twenty Summers Pass (In The Van Again, Public Eye, Spirit Blinded, Look Away, Killer Of My Dreams and the title song). But Ray knows exactly what made Shelter famous. It's classic tracks from the hit album Mantra: Message Of The Bagghavat, Civilized Man, Here We Go, Empathy and Letter To A Friend. They are not left out. When I ask the Doc whether he likes it, he just smiles. And when the last notes of Shelter have died out he adds: "Man, this was so good! The music, the lively performance, the whole interaction between the band and the audience. Everything!" Another fan has been won. I just smile back at him, recognizing the same enthusiasm and excitement I felt when I saw my first Shelter show. (Grumpy)

Hello, we're MotЖrh┘┘. Megadeth, and we're gonna kick your ass? Something's not right. Instead of MotЖrhead, Megadeth have taken the main stage. What the hell is going on? Dave Mustaine explains that MotЖrhead's bus had broken down and there still on their way to the festival as we speak. So he agreed to go on earlier than planned, giving Lemmy & Co. the opportunity to make it to Graspop in time to play their show. Megadeth's professional set is almost entirely filled with classics: "Wake Up Dead", "In My Darkest Hour", "Peace Sells┘", "Tornado Of Souls", "Hangar 18", "Silver Bullet" and "Symphony Of Destruction". The band is in tip top shape, every song is played with perfection, but overall the show is quite stale. This is due to the sound being real polished, as is the case on their latest CD The World Needs A Hero. It's obviously a matter of taste and choice. But still, I can't help wondering how hot and exciting Megadeth could have been with a nasty, gnarly sound. Especially when taking into consideration that their first time around on the Graspop festival, some 5 years back, Megadeth played a mega aggressive set that was nothing short of sensational. (Grumpy)

Hello, we're MotЖrhead and we're gonna kick your ass! Finally they have arrived. Lemmy & Co. immediately blast into fourth gear with "We Are MotЖrhead". "No Class" passes by┘"Metropolis". The sound is thick, heavy and transparent. And that's exactly the way we like it. "Civil War", "Going To Brazil", "Over My Shoulder", "Ramones" (dedicated to Lemmy's close friend, the late Joey Ramone), the Sex Pistols cover "God Save The Queen", "Bomber" and "Overkill" they are all bashed out with the usual no nonsense attitude. Yeah, it's one of those nights were MotЖrhead has more spunk and 'killing capacity' than an entire German 'Tiger II' tank division. The show is an impressive display of the 30 odd years of rock 'n' roll experience that Lemmy has under his belt. What more can we say? Nothing much, except that MotЖrhead's style has virtually remained unchanged over the years. And they still haven't lost a single bit of their appeal. MotЖrhead quite simple was, is and will always be (till they day they 'retire', which is probably a word that is not in Lemmy's dictionary) one of the most thrilling, unique and respected examples of rock 'n' roll in its purest form. And, believe me, that's one hell of an achievement! (Grumpy)
Can't miss you're sharing that opinion Beun?

Also one of these bands with a reputation you can't compete with. This band has brought out so many records and played so many live shows I even cannot remember. Perhaps that's also because of the fact that Lemmy is two and a halve times as old as me. And on the early Saturday night the 3 three lads from England stepped onto the stage speaking the legendary words: "We are Motörhead, and we're gonna kick ass". And hell yeah they did. Young and old fans were standing together and singing along with classics as "Metropolis", "Bomber", "Overkill" and of course one of their biggest hits "The Ace of Spades".

And I can only make one single conclusion. Motörhead does still kick ass after all these years. The machine sounded as tight as ever and it still didn't bore me. The sound was as hard as ever but that wasn't any problem for the thousands of people in front of the stage. I don't know if I am right but could it be possible that this band is still getting more popular? (Beun)

Let's go Murphys┘ Let's go Murphys┘ chanting fills the Marquee 2 with anticipation┘ Let's go Murphys┘ Let's go Murphys┘ The eager fans are growing restless. Can't wait one minute more┘ Let's go Murphys┘ Suddenly┘ finally┘ the sound of bagpipes fills the air. This is the moment everybody's been waiting for: the gang's all here! The Marquee 2 explodes and joins in with the band: "For Boston, for Boston, we sing out loud and proud!" It's hero's welcome The Dropkick Murphys fully deserve. They are undeniably the most happening band within the hardcore 'n' punk community, single-handedly responsible for giving the entire scene an uplifting, creative kick in the butt, and whilst doing this, launching themselves into a league of their own. The Murphys put out a sublime set filled with Irish folk anthems, drinking songs and tales of triumph & woe. Instant classics such as "The Legend Of Rinn MacCumhail", "Which Side Are You On", "Blood And Whiskey", "Curse Of A Fallen Soul", "The Rocky Road To Dublin" and "Heroes from Our Past". All around numerous crowdsurfers ride the waves of the slammin' and dancin' masses, which shed no blood, lots of sweat and only tears of joy. Everyone lets his or her voice be heard, loudly singing in unison with Al Barr, starring in his role of lead singer and master of ceremonies. And what a tremendous thrill it is, hearing 8000 fans sing "Amazing Grace", "Forever", "The Wild Rover" and "A Few Good Men". It's sweet euphoria!

Sadly Ryan Folz isn't present today. Playing the mandolin, tin whistle and dulcimer, he normally is one part of the traditional folk element within The Dropkick Murphys, the other part being Spicy MacHaggis on the bagpipes. He had to return to Boston early, after receiving the tragic news that one of his loved ones had died. Halfway through the set, All Bar dedicates a minute of silence and the song "Finnegan's Wake" to Ryan, family & friends. For one minute the roaring crowd is so quiet it gives you cold shivers down your spine! This single moment is exemplary for the whole show. Whether it's long hair, spiked hair, short hair or no hair at all, it's all for one, one for all. Everybody celebrates the Dropkick Murphys in true harmony and for three magnificent quarters of an hour, there really is unity among all the different factions within the hardcore 'n' punk scene. It's the bright and shining, glorious highlight of the day. All hail the Dropkick Murphys! (Grumpy)

We skip Cradle Of Filth. Prejudiced as I am against the majority of blackmetal bands it doesn't seem fair to review the infernal Brits. So instead it's time for a big snack. Starved as I am and the king-size vegetarian sandwiches being sold out, I throw my principles overboard, ask the Big Man in the Sky to forgive the sin I'm about to commit and devour a big Shish Kebap. Yeah baby, Ritual Carnage. It's tasty as hell. From a distance, I see a ten foot man, posing as Satan himself, swaying and staggering around on the stage. This image confirms my prejudice that Cradle Of Filth is utterly childish. Enough said now, I wasn't going to voice my personal opinions.

What to say about Suicidal Tendencies? It's rather a personal thing. Their self-titled debut was a revolution and a revelation, as were the albums that followed: Join The Army and How Will I Laugh Tomorrow. And their early shows were magic, good, clean, violent fun, exactly the way it should be. I solemnly pledged my allegiance to Suicidal Tendencies. Started wearing blue bandanas, bermudas, white socks, cotton shoes, the whole thing. Cuz ST were the real deal. They were heroes, they were saints. Their music was like a best friend you could party with or could spill your guts when things looked grim and black.

And then they split up┘to reform several years later. But things just ain't like they used to be. Sure, Mike Muir does his thing, the psycho raps and mental stage act. And Mike Clark has lots of muscled riffs in store. But the most significant element ain't no longer there: leadguitarist Rocky George. A one in a million, modest guitar hero. He had a totally unique style, combining his impressive technical abilities with a natural feel for melody and fluency. His solo's, written in service of the songs as a whole, not only added an extra dimension to the songs, but they elevated the music to an artistically higher level. Now what about his replacement Donald Pleasance, also playing in Infectious Grooves, Muir's sidekick show that almost overnight became more successful than Suicidal Tendencies after ten years of hard labor? He's a fairly talented guitar player, but not a genius with a specific style of his own.

Now, before somebody cries "Remember The Dynamo" in defense of their 'highly respectable' idols. Yes, Suicidal Tendencies absolutely played a great set at The Dynamo Open Air 2000 edition, there's no denying it! It even showed more than a hint of the old glory. And yes, I was very pleased and relieved, thinking that I might once again embrace my personal favorite hardcore band. But, I repeat, but┘everything exactly fell into place at exactly the right time. The whole band was in an exceptional condition: hot, wild, hungry, accurate, soulful.

But when the circumstances aren't that special, like Graspop, it's a different ball game. Muir can consider himself lucky that the ST youngsters don't see through the whole bullshit or quite simply don't give a shit, due to the fact that the songs are classics that haven't lost a tiny bit of their appeal or significance. The sound was messy; The performance average; And Mike Muir was pimpin' the whole goddamn 'ST experience' like it's a meaningless gimmick. Get real Mike! Suicidal Tendencies looked like a friggin' cover band doing a fairly decent set of Suicidal classics! It's fairly good, but fairly good ain't good enough! And it never will be the real thing. But then again, who am I? I'm just a sentimental old fart who does nothing but state that "things used to be better in the old days". But you know what? I'm right. I know it. All the old school Suicidal maniacs know it, and damned if it ain't so, the band know it! So Mike & Mike, I've got a two letter word for ya: ST! Stop This! (Grumpy)

It's 11:05 pm. Covered in darkness, the stage is set. The mechanical intro starts gradually rising towards a climax. With a big flash, the lights are turned on and Judas Priest is on its way with Metal Gods. The sound is a tad too sharp, but having dealt with the problem after Touch Of Evil, Judas Priest are Heading Out To The Highway in top notch shape. They're back to do some serious business.

"Newcomer" Tim "Ripper" Owens gets his first real test of the night with Victim Of Changes. With an amazing ease, he passes the test. Technically Ripper is a superb singer. His voice is flexible and strong. And whereas Mr. Rob Halford would sing off key in the higher regions at least a couple of times during a show, Ripper misses not a single note. In fact, Tim Owens can scream higher and much, much longer than his predecessor did (using the same amount of echo) as he demonstrates during the final scream of Victim Of Changes. Talk about endurance!
On the other hand, Ripper's voice doesn't quite have the finesse and character Rob Halford's voice has, nor does Ripper possess the commanding and charismatic presence Halford has on stage. Still, it wouldn't be fair to slag down Ripper Owens. On the contrary, Tim Owens is already the best replacement Judas Priest could ever have hoped for. But the real promise lies in the years to come. Because, regardless of the level of maturity he's already gained as a vocalist, Ripper is still in the process of exploring his talent, overcoming existing limitations and discovering new possibilities.

Surprisingly Judas Priest experience difficulties in winning over tonight's crowd. It's not the music itself. Songs like Breaking The Law, You've Got Another Thing Coming, Green Manalishi (With The Two Pronged Crown) and The Ripper can all be labeled ' timeless classics'. Nor is it the way they're played. Judas Priest are without a doubt the ultra tight killing machine they've always been. And it sure as hell isn't a lack of commitment. Energetic as ever, the old timers bang their head from start to finish. No, it's the way the songs are arranged in the set. Opening up with three mid paced songs isn't quite the turbo start that immediately grabs the fans' attention for the length of the whole show. It's a question of dynamics. Why not open with Painkiller, an instant knockout for sure. Instead, Priest ends the regular set with this unstoppable 'roadburner'. But the real 'beginners' mistake Judas Priest make is taking far too much time in between the songs. We're not getting tired are we? Just when things are about to heat up, another annoying pause comes along. It takes away the drive and spirit of the gig.

But all is well that ends well. Towards the end of the set Priest make a strong comeback with a handful Golden Oldies. And after giving the audience a massive slap in the face with Painkiller, The Priest return to the stage and really set things straight with Electric Eye, another high speed racing monster. The whole crowd finally sings along. The fact that The Priest, before a strong finish with Hell Bent For Leather, come up with United (probably the worst song ever written by the Brummies) and cheesy chart buster Living After Midnight, doesn't matter anymore. (Grumpy)

It's been a great day for everyone. Graspop has been a great festival. It's had its triumphant highlights and downright disappointments, but all in all it was a bright and shiny day, filled with loud music that has once again blown our eardrums into kingdom come. But that's what it's all about. We wouldn't want it any other way, would we now?

All pics by Marcia Gransbergen